Automattic GM 2016

Flash talks, townhalls, workshops, presentations, projects. It was a blur, but as always, it was wonderful to catch up with some of my lovely coworkers. (I wish I could say all of my lovely coworkers, but there simply wasn’t enough time!)

Here’s a disjointed glimpse of my week in Whistler in photos/videos:

ride to whistler
comparing schedules
pes was there in spirit, and markel’s flash talk. :)
my heart rate before doing my flash talk.
checking IDs before you get into the party suite.
jerkface 9000
“literally tearing up the dance floor.” – ingrid
TOS team.
part of the hawthorne crew.
:( at the end of the closing party

#firstsevenjobs

  1. Kitchen minion (working at my family’s restaurant as prep cook, dishwasher, porter, etc).
  2. Math tutor (high schoolers).
  3. Waitress (again for my family).
  4. Sales associate (JCPenney and two children’s boutiques: This Little Piggy Wears Cotton and Cotton & Company).
  5. Research assistant (Children’s Hospital Oakland Research Institute).
  6. Museum docent (Hall of Health, a children’s health/science museum).
  7. Babysitter (a family I met at Cotton & Company).

Still Waters

Gray clouds loom in the distance that evening as we drive over the bay bridge. Sail boats and freighters are common sights in the bay, but there aren’t any to be seen; Sundays of three-day weekends are always quiet.

Dad looks out over the eerily still water, momentarily transfixed. He breaks the silence with a peculiarly dark question, jarring in contrast to the lighthearted day we had just spent together as a family. “What would you do if you were out there for a long open-water swim, with your brother or best friend, and they said that they couldn’t make it any further?”

After a brief pause, he elaborates. “Think about it. There’s nothing and no one around for miles. Do you try to save him, drowning together in the process? Or do you continue on without him?”

It was a dark hypothetical. I appreciate outlandish questions, and as a chronic worrier, my mind naturally tends toward the dark (hope for the best, prepare for the worst — as they say), but this was tragic. I didn’t want to think about it, but I did.“I’d never be on a swim like that. If I were… I don’t know.”

I consider it as realistically as I could. “He really can’t go on? What if we just turn on our backs and float awhile, to rest?”

“No, at this point, he’s done. You think he wants to die? Of course not, but he’s sinking.”

I sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do, but I know that either way, I’d be dead. I’d drown trying to save him, and if I had to leave him behind or watch him drown, I’d drown in my panic and grief.”

Dad continues to build the scene, as if my response didn’t register.“Even if I gave you a measly 10 lb weight, that’d affect your ability to swim a long distance. An entire person. There’s no way you could make it.”

“Yeah…I don’t know.”

Moments of sad, contemplative silence pass.

“This happened to me, many years ago. Think about being on a plane that’s going down, think about everything — all the thoughts, memories, and concerns that would suddenly flood your mind. All those things? That’s what I thought about in that excruciating moment.”

I sit in stunned silence, looking out over the water.

With a quiet anguish, he ends the conversation. “I don’t burden you with stories like this, but one day, maybe five or ten years from now, I’ll share.”

You’d Be a Fool to Miss It

This quote showed up on my Facebook feed the other day (h/t Anne), so I don’t know the context. It’s so lovely that I just had to share.
Go outside. Don’t tell anyone and don’t bring your phone. Start walking and keep walking until you no longer know the road like the palm of your hand, because we walk the same roads day in and day out, to the bus and back home and we cease to see. We walk in our sleep and teach our muscles to work without thinking and I dare you to walk where you have not yet walked and I dare you to notice. Don’t try to get anything out of it, because you won’t. Don’t try to make use of it, because you can’t. And that’s the point. Just walk, see, sit down if you like. And be. Just be, whatever you are with whatever you have, and realise that that is enough to be happy. There’s a whole world out there, right outside your window. You’d be a fool to miss it.
– Charlotte Eriksson

TIL: From My Podiatrist

 

For the past few months, I’ve been getting back into the habit of running. Mostly for my dad who, after doing a 15k with me and my brother, would like to do a half marathon together as well. I’ve never been much of a runner and frankly, I’ve always hated it, but for my family — of course!

During and after my runs I’ve experienced periodic foot pain, so I’ve been experimenting with run schedules, running surfaces, shoes, shoe fittings, shoe lacing, etc. Unable to figure anything out on my own, I finally made an appointment to see a podiatrist.

I got bad news, but it was a very informative appointment. After she asked about my injury history, checked out my stance and walk, and x-rayed my feet and ankles, here’s what I learned:

  • I have hypermobile joints. People have always pointed out that I’m weirdly flexible — not in a manner that’s useful of course; only in bizarre, pointless ways that elicit reactions like “EW how are your arms/wrists/whatever bent like that?!” So, this was an official diagnosis of what I already knew.
  • I have extremely unstable ankles, thanks largely to my past injuries and the aforementioned hyperflexibility.
  • Inherently flexible individuals are highly accident and injury-prone, and have a tough time becoming rigid. It’s all coming together…
  • Due to my foot shape (furthest right on this image), certain areas of my foot bear the brunt of the impact when I run.
  • When standing, my feet are very flat, which can be problematic for running.
  • I have a bipartite medial sesamoid in one foot.
  • If my ankles continue to worsen, surgery is an option — down the road.

My podiatrist’s conclusion: I’m simply not built for running, and I shouldn’t run at all.* I should instead focus on low-impact, strengthening activities like yoga, barre, and pilates. I should also wear ankle braces, boots, or high tops at all times to support my ankles.

Huge bummer. But I’m glad I have a better understanding of my body and how I can prevent further (or permanent!) injury.

*I asked what my options are if I insisted on running: custom orthotics and specific shoes.

Update: I saw an orthopedic surgeon for a second opinion. He also concluded that I shouldn’t be running… but for completely different reasons. 🤔