Losing My Religion

I’ve met God across his long walnut desk with his diplomas hanging on the wall behind him, and God asks me, … Didn’t I realize that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness? Can’t I see how we’re all manifestations of love?
I look at God behind his desk, taking notes on a pad, but God’s got this all wrong.
We are not special.
We are not crap or trash, either.
We just are.
We just are, and what happens just happens.
And God says, “No, that’s not right.”

Yeah. Well. Whatever. You can’t teach God anything.

― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club




My favorite local coffee shop in town does that thing where they have two tip jars, and wherever you put your tip is answering a question. For example, this morning’s question was “Which Harrison Ford?” The two tip jars were labeled “Han Solo” and “Indiana Jones.” I’ll confess, I paused a long moment deciding in which jar to drop my coins. (I mean, seriously, could there be a more difficult frivolous question? They are both my #1 answer!) 

I have a pretty good time checking out what categories they come up with every day, and studies show that these “category” tip jars actually garner more tips than unlabeled jars. This is because it’s the very nature of our brains to want to put things into categories. 

Categories, and their corresponding labels, help our brains make sense of large amounts of information quickly. I’ll skip the cognitive psychology lecture for you though. What’s important to know is that the labels our brains create (aka schema) work really well for most things in this world, but they create a lot of problems when we apply them to human beings. It is much more difficult to imagine and see people for the complex individuals that we are, and our brain actively fights this by wanting to categorize everyone. This, of course, is how we end up with ugly things like racism, sexism, classism, etc. 

Lately, I’ve been pondering not only how we put others into categories, but ourselves as well. We see ourselves in very specific ways, and sometimes I wonder which came first - the labels we have for ourselves, or the behaviors that give us those labels. And what happens when those things change, but no one wants to change their label for you?

 ~ 

When I was 22, I was nearing the end of a six-month road trip with my friend Charlie, and her biggest stress in those final days of traveling was what she called “ having an identity crisis.”

“Who am I,” she asked fretfully, “if I’m not a nomadic adventurer living out of a van?” 

It was a label she was about to lose - one that she liked very much. 

~ 

Here’s a good test of the labels people have for you. When people introduce you at a party, what’s the tidbit of info they share about you? Mine, without fail, is always exactly the same. 

“This is Gretchen. She runs hundred-mile marathons.” 

Although I completely, 100% identify as a Runner with a capital “R,” I still cringe lately when I hear this introduction. It’s not just that I have to bite my tongue and politely refrain from informing people that there is no such thing as a hundred-mile marathon, that a marathon is a specific distance of 26.2 miles (okay, unless you’re in South Africa, but I digress). It’s mostly the fact that then I have to talk about myself. Specifically, I am obligated to talk about running “hundred-mile marathons.” 

But lately, I feel completely talked-out on the subject. I’ve written thousands of words on it. Like, what else could I possibly have to say about it? I didn’t even write a race report for my last hundred-miler because meh. I didn’t care to. 

When I run into people around town, or see friends I haven’t seen in a long time, the conversation inevitably starts with, “How’s the running going?” And lately, the answer is always, “Oh, I’m not doing much running lately.” (And invariably, no one believes me.) 

Like I said, I completely identify as a runner, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. When something has been such an ingrained part of your life for so long, it doesn't just disappear. I also don’t think you need to be actively doing it to still see it as a part of you. But here’s the thing: I’m starting to realize that might be the only thing people see me as. A runner. 

Before training for ultras sucked all of my time away, I was many things. A rock climber, a painter, a knitter, a skier, a photographer. I think it’s fine that I don’t have as much time for those things; it’s all a choice. But I still see them as part of who I am. Labels that fit me.

You know what I’m getting off on these days? Teaching. No joke. This is what’s taking up all of my time. 

It’s not because I’ve become some crazy workaholic. Ha! Never. It’s because I’ve somehow reached this magical little place in my career where things are interesting and exciting, where I am supported professionally and creatively, where I have confidence in my skills but a drive to learn moremoremore every day. It is quite possible, in fact, that it is learning that I love more than teaching. 

I struggle to explain it all adequately, but somehow, the passion and creativity that used to go into writing, that used to fuel me through 80-mile training weeks, is all going into my classroom. And it’s FUN. 

It seems ironic to me that “teacher” is a label that most of my friends do not ascribe to me. Or maybe they do, but it just doesn’t sound as exciting as “runs hundred-mile marathons.” 

I don’t know that this joyride through my career will last forever, but I’m onboard until the tracks run out. And since summer vacation began in mid-June, I’ve been dipping my toes back into some of those other identities. Rock climber, guitar player, maybe even writer. 

~ 

In the past, my training has been fueled by my love of racing. For some reason, it’s not fashionable for non-elite runners to admit to competitiveness. This is especially true, I think, for women. But I’ll go ahead and own it. I have always loved racing. Even when I’ve had less-than-optimal fitness, I’ve nearly always toed the line at races with an intention to throw down my best performance. I mean, otherwise, what’s the point, right? 

I love running, but signing up for a race has always been what gets me out the door to train. I am religious about writing out a season-long training plan for myself, and meticulous about recording the results of each day’s workout. 

Or at least, I used to be. 

At the moment, racing just isn't as sacred as it once was, and the daily prayer of going for a run is most often left unsaid. 

So I guess it’s not surprising that a waning interest in racing over the last few years has led to a dramatic drop in my running mileage. That’s okay. I have other labels to embody. 

Since the Broken Arrow Skyrace in mid-June, my racing calendar has been completely blank. It’s something of a disconcerting feeling, but there’s also something new and exciting about it. It’s as though, with no specific goals to train for, I am rediscovering other reasons I love to run. 

Community appears to be a big reason. At least half of my runs in the past month have been with friends and/or group runs with the Donner Party Mountain Runners. These people give me a reason to get out the door, and they are completely awesome to boot. 

Meditative alone time is clearly my other motivation. I’ve written many times before about the relationship between running and writing, so it comes as no surprise to me that when my running mileage drops so too does my inspiration to write. Most of my writing is an act of reflection, a processing of my experience or that of others, and that reflection nearly always begins when I am out on the trails. Without that uninterrupted time for my mind to wander, to give my thoughts the freedom to follow any path and see where it leads, I find it nearly impossible to squeeze my enormous emotions and jumbled ideas into the inadequate packages of words, sentences, and paragraphs. 

~ 

We all take on roles and identities throughout the course of our lives - ones that evolve and change. Child, student, athlete, nerd, musician, parent, teacher, artist, lover. The ones that stay with us the longest may have the most impact on shaping how others see us and how we see ourselves. Girl, daughter, runner, friend. 

While it’s not so easy to shed these various identities like dirty clothes at the end of the day, maybe we can still claim them even if it’s not who we are every day. When I am injured, I am a runner. When I am uninspired and write nothing, I am a writer. When I only lace up my shoes one day a week (or month), I am a runner. When I write horrifically bad poetry that no one will ever see, I am a writer. When I run three miles instead of ten (or 30, or 100), I am a runner. When the only writing I do is writing comments and feedback for revision on student papers, I am a writer. 

What I find somewhat surprising is that, of those two identities - runner and writer - the one I miss the most right now is writer. 

 ~ 

The more labels I pin to myself, the more I feel I am defying any single one of them. Of course, we all defy our labels, in spite of our brains’ need to have them. Is this because we are all “unique snowflakes of special unique specialness”? Not exactly. I think we just are who we are, and human beings can be a difficult puzzle to solve. 

I think that for people to understand and connect with one another, we must, as author John Green encourages in many of his writings, imagine others complexly. This includes how we imagine and see ourselves. Snowflakes are unique, but puzzles are complex. 

~ 

This summer, I have embarked on a quest to rekindle the fire of my various passions. No teaching - it’s time for EVERYTHING ELSE! 

This includes running, which, I’m not kidding, I feel like I’m completely rediscovering. In a very low-mileage way, that is. I returned from an early morning track workout with DPMR one day this week and declared, wide-eyed, to Andrew, “God, I feel so good!” Like, what a wondrous thing! Who knew? 

It also includes writing. Even if all I manage to cobble together is a collection of confusing and somewhat unrelated thoughts about labels and identity and running. 

Running and writing: the Han Solo and Indiana Jones of my identities. They are both my #1 answer.

New identity: Ski Mountaineer. (Mt. Shasta summit, 14,180') 

Summer Summary

It's raining in Truckee!! Hallelujah. (Okay, it was raining when I started this post. That was last weekend. But the sentiment is the same.)

I'm not just grateful for rain because of this insidious drought, but also because of that nasty King Fire. The smoke in Tahoe has been stifling the last two weeks, and folks down the hill have had to evacuate. 

Fall feels a bit in the air, and with that happy fact, I am reminded to make my usual summer wrap-up post. I may be a complete bloggging slacker, but at least I have my traditions.

Unfortunately, the short summary for this summer goes like this:

It was completely shitty.

An accurate and succinct summary, if a bit lacking on details. But truthfully, I'm tired of giving the details. 

Last weekend, my husband and I visited with some friends we hadn't seen in four or five months. I came straight out and told the wife in the couple that I was tired of updating people on the upsetting events of my life, so could we just skip the "What's been happening in your life?" question? 

She replied, "Let's just talk about trail running!"

Now that is a good friend.

So for this post, I'm going to skip all the shitty parts. I can't ignore them, but I guess I don't have to relive them here. Instead, I thought I would take this opportunity to focus on all the awesome parts of this summer.

Because you know what? Even among all the challenges - the feelings of betrayal, the injustices, the immense grief - there were still some pretty awesome things that happened this summer. Reminding myself of these things is one good way of dealing with the challenges - keeping perspective, and realizing that even a shit sandwich doesn't taste as bad when you're sitting by a mountain lake with a cocktail in hand. (Okay, I'm sorry, I will stop swearing now. Terribly embarrassing, my crassness.)

So. Awesome parts of this summer, in chronological order:



Hangin' at Western States


For the first time in several years, I was neither volunteer, runner, nor pacer. I thoroughly enjoyed geeking out as a fan.

Gary Gellin nears the top of the Escarpment.

And the finish line especially. Always a social, and very emotional place to spend time.

The Trent girls await the leader at Placer High.

See what I mean about emotions? (Pictured: Rob Krar)

More emotions! Yay! (Pictured: Max King)

Fourth of July!

The fourth is always awesome in Truckee, and this year was no different. Good friends, perfect weather, parades, swimming, barbecues, bike rides, tubing down the river. Fun!

The Dream Team at the Truckee Parade.

Family Visits

Fishing day with the boys!

Game time: "I am a Pig." "I am a Camel." (Not the most flattering pic, but certainly the funniest!)

TRT 50K

Due to the fact that I spent most of June and the first part of July injured, I dropped down from the 50M distance I'd signed up for and ran the 50K (actually 55K) at TRT for the first time since 2003. Oh wow! I think I like the 50K. No Diamond Peak climb, and it's over so fast! Plus, I won. Total bonus.

And I will tell you that staying up all night to volunteer at the Tunnel Creek AS is much easier with only 55K on your legs vs. 50M. Just as much fun though!

Pre-race with the RD

TRT 173

It seems like a lot of my adventures involve the Tahoe Rim Trail, but this one was truly unique. Five runners, four days, and 173 miles of jaw-dropping scenery. 

I don't want to say too much about this one, since I SWEAR I AM GOING TO WRITE A REAL POST ABOUT IT. I promise. I am.

But the summary is that it kind of turned out to be the gem of the summer. Two of our really big challenges were already upon me and my husband, and a third was just hitting the fan when this adventure began. I didn't know if I should even be out there on the trail for so many reasons, but it turned out to be the best decision I could have made.

I am massively grateful for the friends who put in all of the work to plan this adventure and who turned out to be amazing people with whom to share the trail!

173 Miles that looked something like this

Triumphant at the end of our journey: Me, Chris, Tyler, Curt, and Joe. (And Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.)

A New Kitchen

This is another one that I am not going to give all the details on because I really want to do a full post with before and after pictures. There was quite a process, and it looks amazing, but of course, it's still not done. (Started in April, why would we be done by October?) As soon as the back splash and trim are in, there will be lots of pictures! Pinky swear.

Here's Andrew on concrete day. This doesn't show you anything about our kitchen, does it? But just wait until you see the killer concrete counter tops he made me!!

Other Adventures

Of course there were plenty of beautiful trail miles shared with friends, (several times getting caught out in hail and lightning), and other "daily" adventures. In completely non-chronological order:


Hoover Wilderness and Yosemite with Jamie:

Jamie

Happy in the mountains

Alpine lake in the Hoover Wilderness

Running near home:

Castle Peak, Donner Summit

Desolation Wilderness with Betsy

Aloha Lake/Desolation Wilderness with Jamie and Caren

Jason's wedding with the college track crew (no running involved).

I know this was mostly a post in pictures. I don't have a lot of words these days. Honestly though, I'm hoping to find some. I miss writing.

Last summer, my sister declared it to be The Summer of Joy. We did so many wonderful things with family, knowing that with my mom's ALS diagnosis, it would be the last summer with her in good health. It truly was wonderful - three full months of family time up and down the coast.

This one was declared The Summer of Sadness. Aptly named, and thankfully in the rearview mirror.

My sister has already declared next summer to be The Summer of Healing. I'm assuming that means more family trips, and I'm all for that! In fact, I'm pretty much ready for summer right now.

Made up Stories and Young Adults

Neither novels nor their readers benefit from attempts to divine whether any facts hide inside a story. Such efforts attack the very idea that made-up stories can matter, which is sort of the foundational assumption of our species.

                                            - John Green, The Fault in our Stars

Description begins in the writer's imagination, but should finish in the reader's.

                               - Stephen King, On Writing

As a teacher of both writing and literature, I often find myself telling my students that reading and writing are two sides of the same coin. Writing, for me, is an act of connecting, of reaching out. It’s a way of creating relationships with people I don’t even know, and I’ve long believed that creating meaningful relationships is part of the important work of a life well lived.

I think this is what art in general is all about. Whether you’re a writer, a musician, a painter, a singer, a dancer – on some level, you’re attempting to connect with others.

Reading, then, is also an act of connecting. Instead of doing most of the talking, the reader does most of the listening. The reader is not, however, a passive participant. As John Green puts it, “Reading is always an act of empathy. It’s always an imaging of what it’s like to be someone else.”

You can live so many different lives through the act of reading stories. It’s possible to learn so much about so many different things through the living of those lives. It’s simply brilliant.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because I’m more of a reader at the moment than a writer. I simply haven’t had the emotional energy for creating my own art, but I’ve taken great solace in living on the other side of the equation by reading more than usual.

And what do I read? Mostly young adult fiction. After all, I do spend my days surrounded by them (young adults, I mean). But to be honest, I know that’s not the only reason I like to read what they’re reading. I love YA literature for some of the same reasons I like working with its audience: there’s just something very compelling about that time of life.

The experience of being a teenager can be exciting, confusing, provocative, scary, poignant, and incredibly vivid. That transformation from childhood to adulthood is a pivotal time in many of our lives, and one where we make a lot of choices than can affect the adult we eventually become.

The first book of assigned reading that I can remember loving is John Knowles’s A Separate Peace. I was a sophomore in high school, and I remember feeling so connected to the emotions of the characters. Not coincidentally, the essay I wrote for that book is one of the first pieces of writing I can recall really pouring my heart into. An early lesson in how good literature can inspire.

As an adult, my relationship to the genre has changed. In high school, I loved Holden Caulfield because he was so critical of adults, so full of judgment. These days, I don’t see that as such an intriguing characteristic, but his struggle to make sense of his world and growing up is one that gives me empathy for my own students. I still love Catcher in the Rye, but for much different reasons than I did as a teen.

When I first began teaching ten years ago, I did make a concerted effort to read some more current YA fiction so that I could share casual discussions with my students. I didn’t realize it would be a path to reconnecting with an entire genre of literature I’d forgotten. On one trip to the bookstore in those early years, I happened across, and purchased, John Green’s recently published, debut novel, Looking for Alaska. If you’ve talked about books with me at all, you’ll know that John Green is my favorite author, and Alaska was my first taste of brilliant YA literature since I’d been a teen myself. If I were to give you a quick summary of the book, I would say that it is strikingly similar to A Separate Peace.

Not only do I love John Green’s books (If you haven’t yet read The Fault in our Stars, go do it now! Even if you don’t think you’re a fan of YA. Just read it.), but the man himself is completely full of awesome. Through the youtube channels created by him and his brother, Hank, he has allowed his fans unprecedented access to who he is, and what he and Hank think on all kinds of topics. John Green is smart, thoughtful, hilarious, and an unabashed nerd. He and Hank have created a community of like-minded, motivated individuals who are more than just fans of the books and videos and songs the brothers create. They are participants, engaged in artistic conversations. The world needs more people like them.

One of the reasons that I am allowing myself to go all fan-girly over John here is that he is such an inspiration, and with the recent success of The Fault in our Stars, more people are starting to realize it. (John shares some interesting concerns over this phenomenon in this video.) Much of what I’ve said here are similar to things John has said in his videos over the years. It’s easy to connect with someone who verbalizes so well notions that you already hold true. He sums it all up very nicely I think in this introduction to Crash Course Literature. (What? You’ve never heard of Crash Course? You’d better go check it out! Right after you finish reading The Fault in our Stars.)

I love this video for so many reasons, but one is the topic that I last heard addressed by my own high school English teacher many years ago: authorial intent. This is completely my favorite thing about reading – it is up to YOU as the reader to interpret what happened! Can’t decide whether Pi really survived for 227 days at sea with Richard Parker? Don’t understand the ending of The Giver? Really really dying to know whether he chose the Lady or the Tiger? (Questions, by the way, that all of my students ask me.) You, as the reader, have to decide for yourself, and each person’s answer may be different.  “You decide whether the swing set is just a swing set.” Author Nathan Bransford has a great post about How Art Changes With Us, emphasizing (to me) how what we bring to the table as a reader is incredibly relevant to our understanding of a story.

Another reason I’ve been thinking about these things lately is that, back in September, my students and I celebrated Banned Books Week. It blows my mind that people want to prevent teens from reading about the ugly and difficult things in this world. How else to allow them to learn about, and then hopefully avoid experiencing, those ugly things themselves? How else to keep them from being lost if they already have?

Again, literature is such an incredible tool for learning. This is Speak author Lauire Halse Anderson’s take on censorship.

Reluctant readers make me sad, but at the same time, I consider them a great challenge.  I know there are books out there for everyone. One of my biggest jobs as a teacher of reading is to help kids find books that they love. I can say that I have definitely gotten a lot better at that part of the job. How? Simply by loving reading the same books they love reading and then sharing them.

Today in class, one of my students interrupted a lesson to declare, “I finished Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children!”

I asked him if he liked it, and he was like, “Yeah, but it was such a cliffhanger!”

And I was all, “I know! He’d better be writing a sequel!”

Important conversations to have with kids, right?

(Incidentally, yes, many of my students have figured out they can derail a boring-as-hell grammar lesson by throwing out a comment about a book. I kind of consider that on-topic, really.)

Anyway, my point is, read good books. Good fiction matters because it connect us. It teaches us about each other and about ourselves, and often we don’t even realize we’re learning at all. We’re just being swept away in the power of a good story. Stories help to make the world a little bit smaller, in a very good way.

What do you think? What was the first story that swept you away? What are your favorite titles now?

Canyons

Official Signs of Spring:

• Birds chirping on the morning dog walk
• Sunny skies at Way Too Cool 50K
• Neighbors seen raking pine needles in their yards
• Shorts instead of tights, tanks instead of long sleeves
• Sundays in the Canyons

Post-run glow at Michigan Bluff

Every year between late March and the end of May, I join Jamie for Sunday long runs in the canyons of the Western States Trail. This year marks the fourth in a row, and it already has the feel of tradition. Familiarity. 

If you've only ever experienced the canyons on race day, you're missing out on their best season. Absent the stifling heat of June, fresh from beneath winter snow and spring melt, the canyons come alive in April. Lush grasses, lupine, poppies, butterflies, singletrack, steep climbs, long descents, shade, sun.

The truth is, I'm supposed to be training for a road marathon - Eugene Marathon at the end of April. But really, who wants to pound out 20 fast miles on the roads when you could take all day to do 30 on the trails in the canyons? I can give up some speed on race day for a little spiritual balm from the trail.

I often find comfort in routine. The familiar can be soothing to the soul. While the Sierra high country will always be my favorite, this time of year in the canyons holds a special place in my heart. A long run stretches the mind as much as the legs, and emerging into the canyons from the snows of Tahoe is a welcome springtime awakening. 

Just another Sunday in March

What's your favorite spiritual training run?

Top Ten Favorite Songs of All Time

Do you ever get so entangled with an idea that you can’t wrap your brain around it enough to convey it as something coherent? And then, as you’re pondering it, it grows, sprouting new, related ideas, like a Hydra that even Hercules (or Percy Jackson) couldn’t tame.

It happens to me with the regulariuty of Old Faithful – ideas simmering beneath the crust of my skull to eventually spout upwards, a huge mess for the world to see. Except, you know, not nearly as impressive as a geyser.

I’ve been pondering, for years now, I’d say, the interconnectedness of language, music, and movement – how they are all forms of communication that weave our human souls together. And one day, hopefully soon, I am going to bring together all these thoughts, all the scribblings scattered through different notebooks, and the bookmarked articles on the internet, and the literary quotes and song lyrics, and put them all together into something coherent and meaningful. I swear, I will.

But not today.

This post is a bit of a tangent, born from my larger ideas about music. This post is pure fun.

In a separate, but slightly related, part of my brain from all these thoughts about language, and connection, and blah, blah, blah, I have been doing another sort of pondering. For several years now, I have been trying to come up with a list of my Top Ten Favorite Songs of All Time.

In an effort to impress Jack Black in High Fidelity, I have really tried to be exclusive with my list. I have tried only to include songs which have stood the test of time, ones that make me pause in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store when I hear them, smile, and go, “ahhh.” Songs that tug at my heart strings.

Still, the list isn’t perfect. I’m sure there are songs I’ve forgotten. It’s a work in progress, as is life. But I thought I'd go ahead and share it with you. To this point, here’s what I’ve got, (in order, yes):

1. Bad – U2         I don’t even know what to say about this song. Haunting. Passionate. To me, it speaks of trying to let go of an obsession. It’s the battle of the human soul with itself. It makes me crumple inside – but in kind of a good way. It’s the very best from a band which could easily fill out this entire top ten list.

2. Into the Mystic – Van Morrison            Sometimes this one actually ranks as number one (when I feel a little less haunted). I want my gypsy soul to be rocked. Don’t you?

3. Clare de Lune – Claude Debussy           Heart wrenchingly beautiful. I’ll discuss this one at greater length if ever I get around to the topic of motion/movement and expression. With no lyrics, it may not actually qualify as a song, but who cares. It’s my list.

4. Imagine – John Lennon            I won’t bother analyzing this one for you. Just listen to the lyrics. I love and adore every word. Cliché and idealistic? Maybe. But in my view – perfect.

5. Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town – Pearl Jam         The haunting beauty of Eddie Vedder’s voice is part of what makes so many Pearl Jam songs find their way into your soul. This one does it exceptionally well, and touches on the beauty (pain?) of perspective – “I change by not changing at all.”

6. Running to Stand Still – U2     It kind of freaks me out that I connect so well with songs about heroin addiction, but maybe it’s just a U2 thing. They used to sing about that a lot. And after all this time, I still love them. A lot.

7. Ramble On – Led Zeppelin       I like a lot of songs in the “rambling” genre, and I like a lot of Led Zeppelin tunes. The combination puts this one on the list, for sure. It rocks, and “My freedom I hold dear.”

8. Cocoon – Jack Johnson             For all the many, many Jack Johnson songs that I adore, it kind of surprises me that this is the one that stands out. I’m not totally sure why. I just know that if it pops up on a playlist, or on Pandora, I always reach out to turn up the volume and sing a passionate, off-key accompaniment.

9.  Girl, I Wanna Lay You Down – ALO     This is the most recent song on the list, and so I hesitate to say it’s really “stood the test of time” yet. Still, it makes me melt. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with an ALO show I went to several years ago. Have you ever been front row center when Zach Gill sang this song? I have, and I swear to you, he was looking directly at me while he sang. True story! I relive that experience every time I hear this one. So, … yeah.

10. This slot I really just have to leave open. Did you know I’m not great with commitment or closure? I feel like I need to keep this last spot flexible in case the best song ever comes along. Right now it’s a battle between Summer of ’69 – Bryan Adams (high school and college memories), Across the Universe – The Beatles (part of the whole language/connection thing – “Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup”), and Say Goodbye – Dave Matthews (just indescribably sexy). At the moment, Say Goodbye is in the lead, big time.

So, there you have it. A bit of my heart in music. And now it’s your turn, friends. Please tell me some (or all!) of the songs that would be on your all time top ten list! I'm sure it will make me want to change my list. What makes you turn up the volume, or cry, or dance around the living room like a maniac?