Welcome to Washington, Mr. President

My legs are half-frozen, my hair is a tangled disaster, my shoulders are knotted and sore from hunching against the wind...and I've never been more thrilled, inspired or hopeful in my life. Why? Because I stood on the National Mall at noon today and watched President Barack Obama take his oath of office as the 44th President of the United States.

(Above, the Washington Monument from across the (half-frozen!) Potomac.)

I was not an Obama fan during the primaries. I was pulling for John Edwards, then for Hillary Clinton, shaking my head at Obama's lack of experience and rolling my eyes at his celebrity status with so many people my age. But then, the last few months of the primaries, I started really listening to what he had to say, watching the way he interacted with people and the effect he had on them.

Once I started paying attention, I couldn't actually find anything to dislike about Barack Obama at all.

(Below, the crowd at the Lincoln Memorial, around 9:30am)

As the general election heated up, so did my enthusiasm for the Democratic candidate, this husband, this father, this basketball player, this statesman whose love of country resonates in every word he speaks. Well before November 4th, I was committed to doing what I could to see him elected, not only because he was my party's candidate but because I finally saw in him the spark that so many others were drawn to before me. The hope, the commitment to change not only for the betterment of this country but for that of the world, and the unflagging patriotism that acknowledges our country's failings at the same time that it reminds us of its greatness and its potential.

On November 4th, I cast one of the millions of ballots that helped turn Virginia blue, then sat on the floor in front of the TV with tears streaming down my face as President-elect Obama gave his address from Grant Park in Chicago. And today I stood on the Mall, again with tears in my eyes, and listened to President Barack Obama speak for the first time - seriously, hopefully, determinedly - to the American people.

I've always been proud to be an American, proud of the dreams and determination that have made us what we are, proud to be part of the astonishingly diverse heart of this country. But I've never been as filled with hope, and the belief that the status quo can change for the better, as I am today.

(Above, my vantage point from the WWII Memorial)

The day before the election, I wrote a post for my non-profit's blog, an excerpt of which I've been thinking about for the last week or so:

"I have a challenge for our next president, whether he turns out to be Barack Obama or John McCain:

Hold onto the sense of community that’s grown among your supporters, among the citizens of this country, during the campaign. It’s been a long one and we’re all tired of it, but we’re united in our desire to see a better, brighter future for America. Take that unity and hold it up for the country to see, make it clear that regardless of who any one person voted for, the next steps in American history are up to all of us. Foster that sense of community among the diverse voices that comprise the citizenship of our country – if you do, I believe that you’ll be able to accomplish more than any president in the last twenty years has dreamed possible.

Use the collective energy of that community to fix what’s broken...Gather [it] around minority groups who are too often the innocent victims of attackers who don’t understand them and only recognize them as different and therefore dangerous. Pit the enormity of that positive vibe against the negativity of...extremist positions, and let’s see if we can’t overwhelm them in such a way that makes the[m] obsolete.

I believe the American people have the power to accomplish all that and more and I challenge you, Mr. President, to harness it. The marathon[ of the election]’s almost over, but the real test of strength has yet to begin. I hope you have the guts to meet it head-on, and win."

(Above, President and Michelle Obama - on one of the Mall's jumbo trons - as he takes his oath of office)

I'm sure no one in President Obama's closest circles (and probably not many in mine, for that matter) has read that post - November 3rd was kind of a busy day for them! - but listening to him speak, the following night and this morning, I feel heard. And I believe that with President Obama in office, the dream of a united America, of an active citizenry and a government - or at least a White House - that hears and fights for the needs of its citizens can once again be a reality.

(At left, the crowd at the WWII Memorial)

If I didn't believe that, I probably wouldn't have walked the 4.5 miles from my apartment to downtown D.C. in this morning's 20-some-odd-degree weather, bundled up in tights, knee-highs, wool socks, jeans, tank top, long-sleeved tee, sweater, windbreaker, scarf, coat and fleece headband, with hand warmers in my pockets and toe warmers in my shoes, to stand with the mass of people that filled the entire length of the Mall and the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and watch the swearing-in of our 44th president. If I didn't believe that, I would likely have spent this Inauguration as I spent the last one: ignoring it, and wishing the motorcades and barricades and military checkpoints would stop messing with my routes through the city.

But I do believe it, so I wanted to be there, to watch history in the making, to watch the first moments of a presidential term I believe will bring extraordinary and much-needed changes to America. And to say: Welcome to Washington, Mr. President!

Yes, I can!

This title is more an ode to The Little Engine That Could than an Obama-ism, but both "I think I can, I think I can!" and "Yes, we can" have their roots in a concept that's been on my mind a lot today: determination.

It's one of those things they never tell you you're going to need in elementary school (with the exception of The Little Engine That Could), when everyone is making lists of good qualities, or learning how to say them in an introductory foreign language class. Nice, kind, intelligent or smart and pretty usually make the list, but determined rarely shows up, and it isn't until you're in college, or maybe even later, that you realize its worth as a character trait.

It's a trait that tends to involve a lot of its friends in whatever it does: endurance, for athletes, teachers trying to make a difference in their students' lives or people trying to hold together a relationship that's hit a rough patch; tunnel vision, for the executive whose mind is set on a particular promotion or bonus or the student focused on surviving a hellacious final exam period; efficiency, for the single parent intent on giving their child the best life possible or a professional with more piles of paperwork on their desk than hours in the workweek.

For me, there's a fine line between determination and stubbornness (whose friend crankiness often tags along), and it can be hard to tell the difference - although determination usually seems to be accompanied by a feeling of certainty about the outcome that stubbornness lacks.

Being stubborn can get you in trouble, whereas being determined usually doesn't. Case in point: on a family vacation to British Columbia when I was nine or ten, my brother bought some sort of apple-flavored soda that I decided was the best thing ever invented, an opinion based mostly on the fact that he and my sister-in-law liked it, and anything they did - like drinking apple soda - I wanted to do, too. My dad told me I could have a Diet Coke instead. "I don't want no stinkin' Coke!" was my response (I have to mention that I never said things like this and it appalled me the moment it was out of my mouth, but the first week of that vacation was without my mom, so I had an extraordinary amount of sugar and caffeine in my system after six or seven days of Canadian pastry-laden meals, snacks and coffee breaks with my dad). Needless to say, I definitely didn't get an apple soda. And that unfortunate statement gets tossed back at me anytime I'm being stubborn with my family.

Contrast that with this year: in March, never having run more than 6.2 miles at a time, I decided I wanted to try to run the 33rd annual Marine Corps Marathon. I worked out a schedule and started training, telling myself I'd just see how it went. After a month of training, I was intent on crossing that finish line. There were times I got through purely on stubbornness, like the first 14-mile run I did in July when I greatly underestimated how much water I'd need and was foolishly optimistic about the fueling capabilities of a 90 calorie Special K bar. I was not going to walk or slow down no matter how exhausted and thirsty I was, goshdarnit, no way. But the experience as a whole demanded determination much more than stubbornness. And pounding toward the 20th mile on October 26th, I didn't feel stubborn, I felt determined - to do my best and to use everything my training had taught me about myself to achieve this major accomplishment.

I felt determined when I started a new job in August 2007 - I didn't know much of anything about direct marketing, but I was determined to learn, both quickly and well. And determination was my best friend when I took the two-day final exam for my French major - being stubborn about French poetry and Renaissance literature wouldn't have gotten me anything but a headache, but determination got me a degree.

I was thinking about all of this this morning as I was pulling air into my lungs and pushing it out, ignoring the stitch in my side and the knots in my shoulder while concentrating on not slipping on the ice coating large portions of the road and trying to tune out the crankiness circling in my head: I hate running at 6,600 feet. I hate running in 30 degree weather. I hate the cold. Why haven't I bought a half-zip with wicking fabric to run in yet? Why the hell am I breathing so hard after three miles? I hate running at 6,600 feet...

My mom was right next to me, keeping up with the pace I'd set even though it was almost two minutes faster per mile than her usual. When we run together, she regularly protests afterward that I'm trying to run her into the ground, but she almost always keeps up, and never fails to keep going. It's that kind of determination that's so different from the childish stubbornness I tended to rely on growing up. And it's that kind of determination that gets things done.

I think - hope - I've made a lot of progress toward relying much more on determination than stubbornness in the last few years. And I'm pretty sure that just thinking about it means I am, as well as being one of those "Oh, I'm really an adult now, aren't I?" moments that alternately make me smile and scare me half to death. I'm sure I'll still have my stubborn moments, some of which may involve stamping my foot, but I'm kind of looking forward to the adult alternative of determination, and finding out just what it can help me accomplish.

A quick overview

To kick off this exchange, I could tell you all about my degree or what I studied or what I do, but that wouldn’t really tell you who I am, so I’ll give you some random clips of myself instead and see if we can’t get started on getting to know each other.

1. Reading is one of my greatest pleasures. If I’m not in the middle of three different books at any given time, there must be something wrong. (And right at the moment, it’s George Eliot’s Middlemarch, Salman Rushdie’s Midnight's Children and The Audacity of Hope by President-elect Obama.)
2. I’ve been writing in some form or another since I was five years old.
3. I’m a stickler for details, and get really annoyed when I miss one. Which usually happens when I’m in a rush. Which is a lot of the time.
4. I speak French, and teach it as a volunteer for the Global Language Network.
5. Music is another of my greatest pleasures, and one of my escapes – I’ve been singing since I could talk, playing piano since I was seven, playing clarinet since I was nine and frustrating myself with the guitar since I was 14.
6. I love to travel. Meeting new people and finding the cultural similarities and differences that link us fascinates me. I’ll talk endlessly about them, so if I mention going somewhere new, be prepared!
7. I could happily subsist on cheese, milk, bread, chocolate (preferably dark) and red wine (preferably Côtes-du-Rhône or cabernet sauvignon).
8. I ran my first marathon four weeks ago.
9. I’m not a vegetarian, but I’m extremely squeamish about uncooked poultry, so I get most of my protein from dairy products and “veggie meat” unless someone else is cooking or I’m having a particularly brave moment.
10. I tend to over-think everything, which means I tend to be long-winded. I’ll try to control the long-windedness if you’ll try to forgive me my lapses.
    

That’s me. What about you?