Sometimes More Than Others

On my recent trip to Mexico, we signed up for one of those guided tours. Not the kind where they stamp your hand and shuffle you through like cattle but certainly the kind that you take when you're in a foreign country and you want to go through the jungle without getting eaten by jungle creatures, lost, or worse, be out so late you miss the Red Sox game.

Through some streak of luck, reservation confusion and the magic that is "Mexican Time" (which is just like Island Time for any who may be more familiar with that concept; believe me when I say EXACT SAME THING), we ended up on a smaller, later starting tour with only four other people. And our guide, who was this hilarious self-proclaimed Mexican-American who immediately made you feel that even if you hadn't ever been to camp as a kid and had the "cool counselor" that the next six hours were going to totally make up for anything you might have missed. "I have a Mexican girlfriend now," he said, "I had a Dominican girlfriend before. And all that means is now instead of everyone getting their ass kicked, it's now just me." This is how the day started.

As we went on our hiking/biking/snorkeling/zip lining adventure, each activity became more fun than the last. Also, being in a very small group, we had a ton of time for a lot of "extras" that wouldn't otherwise occur. At one point our group was having a really hard time deciding if we wanted to eat, float in a cenote or drink beer first. "Float, eat, drink," I told our guide. "Dang, are you single," he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. All I could say was "let's not go there." Sure, a little retro but I was serious. We did not need to go there.

Which sort of brings me to my point, the point of all this. There was a moment, when I stood at the top of a tower that was something like a billion feet in the air, looked at the three hundred sixty degrees of jungle canopy around us, took a deep breath and lifted my feet off the platform and felt, without any doubt, that there was no other place I would have rather been on Earth. Think about that for a minute; that feeling of knowing you are one hundred percent right where you think you ought to be. I didn't need anything else. I needed no one else around me. I wasn't anything but right there.

I felt a similar feeling when I walked in the door tonight. It's been drizzly and rainy all day. I'm still getting over this cold and the feeling that my head weighs sixteen pounds. I let the dog out, kicked off my shoes, and put on my slippers and a sweatshirt. I put the teapot on the stove and while I waited for the water to boil, I sat down at my table and looked out onto the patio and thought, this is good. It is good, like that zip line in Mexico. But with one difference, I really would have liked to have someone sitting at the table with me. At least once in a while.

Pieces of perfect

We stayed at this little darling hotel on the quiet end of town. We walked through the rainy streets with bags and no umbrellas to get there and if the warm colors and adobe spiral staircase weren't welcoming enough, the staff was. They knew our names from the moment we walked in the door and offered us everything from directions to umbrellas to comfort us. The manager, whom I nicknamed Pavarotti because he was singing when we walked in, helped me reacquaint myself with Spanish. It turns out I can find more than the beer and the bathrooms when I'm in Mexico*.

It was an interesting place to see the fusion of different cultures. It always amazes me how if you take the time to talk with people and make the effort, you'll get an amazing response. You go from feeling slightly lost and very out of practice to knowing that yes, even with the barriers of language and culture differences, you can make friends anywhere.

Like the young lady at a small bakery we stopped in for dessert one day. Though it was simply apple pie, there was something oddly magical about her teaching us to call it tartleta de manzana as we ate it and read magazines while Springsteen tunes floated out from the back room. It was a fantastic contrast that settled me. One step up, two steps back, indeed.



The sky also happened to stay in a constant state of bright blue, of which the thought only causes me great discomfort today. It is fifty-four degrees (F) in Colorado right now and I didn't see blue sky all day. Call it nature but I think it's Colorado's karmic way of getting back at me for pining after others.





Mexico, and likely any place if you'll let it sink in, is filled with detail. And just a couple steps away from the mainstream, you'll see this more and more. Little things people do and say that show an effort to be unique. An effort not only to stand out but to do it in a way no one else does. We should each be so lucky to have these efforts noticed. We should be so lucky to always try to make the effort at all.


I must admit, was not enough time. But when is it ever? I took an entire week off running (not to mention every other endeavor) and I have to say, for the first time in a while, I really miss it. I miss the open road and the air being stolen from my lungs. I miss the sweat and the way it clears my mind. Oddly, though I so badly believed I needed to be taken away, I missed my feet being on the ground. And if we know anything at all, we know it won't be long before I'm floating again anyway.

* See Me: 101, #70.

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Last week's guessing game answer: C. I made it up. And if the above didn't make it obvious enough I will just explain by saying I think it would be nearly impossible for me to be friends with someone that so decidedly hated warm weather. There's just a certain basic level of understanding that must occur between friends.

Don't listen to me, I'm high on corn

Today I returned from a whirlwind road trip from Colorado to Iowa, via Omaha, Nebraska. All I can say after roughly 2,800 miles on the road, 13.1 of those miles spent running and yet another reminder of how blessed I am to have wonderful friends is I'm exhausted and I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

It was the change in scenery, the miles put on the car, surviving a half-marathon I was entirely unsure about and being around running friends (with whom, you know, no subject is off limits) that put me right where I needed to be. I wasn't sure about this trip, for many reasons. One, of course, being the running but also being so unsure of the steps I've been taking in other parts of my life. It turns out packing a lot into the last bit of Summer is just the thing to remind yourself that those steps, both running and otherwise, are inevitable.

And there's nothing like being with people who accept you, your choices, and your bad jokes just the way they are to reassure you that by taking advantage of every minute, you are doing just the right thing. Because when I think about that inevitable "end" we all will reach one day, it will not matter that I ran slower than I should, or that I passed up a chance for promotion because it didn't feel right or that I put off getting the carpets cleaned. Yes, all of those things might bother me, but it really doesn't matter.

So after an all-too-fast weekend and keeping myself up late tonight to do homework that I just didn't seem to get to before now, I can at least be assured of a few things: we really do only race one person, weekends and life go far too fast, and you shouldn't wear a skirt in a cornfield.

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P.S. I am so sorry to my Minnesota and Iowa blogging friends. There was just no time for an extended visit. I totally think this should be in my life plans soon, though. Believe me, I need no excuse to meet strangers from the Internet. Heh.

My Windshield on the World, Wyoming & Utah Edition (Part 8, probably)

Here we are, two days from the weekend that, in the United States, marks the end of summer. Sure, go ahead and wait until September 21st if you'd like, we'll all sit by while you pretend it's not the end. And we'll secretly laugh at you because everyone knows you're just living in a fantasy. Truth be told, I'll live in that fantasy with you a little bit anyway. We've still got those Indian Summer days ahead of us out West here, and if you think I'm packing up the flip flops before the first snow, well you don't really know me at all.

It has been quite the trip, this summer. Months filled with babies getting older, pirates, unforgettable moments of turquoise water and perfect days, friends and fireworks, live music, oh so much music, refusing to let Summer go by too fast, early mornings, calling it quits, sisterly bonding, and realizing that life, no matter my inability to predict, has some really great things in store. And if all that isn't a reason to take one more week and live it up for all it's worth, it ought to be.

Tomorrow I'll be hitting the road one more time for the year. I'm headed through corn country, then up the corn belt (I have totally made up these names and really have no idea what is or is not identified as corn country or the corn belt). All this for, you guessed it, friends. I'm meeting one, and going to do the race in the hometown of another. Hey, we do what we gotta do.

Upon returning, I'll spend a total of twenty-four hours at home before heading out again, but this time, there will be no race. Remember this little scenario from a few weeks back? Well, a decision was eventually reached. After careful examination of personal schedules, work schedules, flight schedules (and availability) and, well, a little bit of pure fantasy, we decided we'd head to the beach. I know how shocked you are right now, that I would make that decision. I promise, I did not coerce my friend. I can't help it if I'm really super excellent at travel research.

I will admit, it was not our first choice. We considered New York City (more hustle than we wanted, and I mean that in a good way), New Orleans (flights just did not work- this was a huge disappointment), and the West Coast (but then realized there were some flight restrictions and it made no sense to start in the middle of the country, head East and then turn around and head West). So, when it came down to it, South of the border became the obvious choice.

I'm about to cover more miles than I can count, set foot in approximately seven cities, three airports, several corn fields (how could I not) and several more cantinas. I plan to update in between to the two so as not to confuse corn and tequila but in the meantime, I'll leave you with some windshield commentary from my last trip.

Happy Labor Day weekend, my fellow Americans. And happy end of Summer/whatever season you may be leaving behind right now to all.

Utah, via Northern Colorado and Wyoming:

After getting through the madness that is North Denver these days, you're reminded Northern Colorado still has some wide open spaces. And thank God for that.

But as soon as you cross into Wyoming, you're also reminded that fireworks aren't legal in Colorado.

Lucky for us, Pyro City is just a drive away.

Once you're all stocked up on the sparklers, you can head out into the wild blue yonder that is Southern Wyoming. Wind farms, a repaving project and, oh yes, a little red Corvette (look closely, waaaay up ahead) kept me company for hundreds of miles.

Sooner than you think, however, you'll be near Utah and entering the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. Or at least the sign says so.

Then, if you're really lucky, you'll participate in a 178 mile relay with eleven of your closest and sweatiest friends. And it will be beautiful!

And if you're really, really lucky, the van your team uses is a rental so when you back it into a tree in the middle of the night because you're driving barefoot and parallel parking, it will not matter.

All too soon, though, you'll be headed home.

As you drive those hundreds of miles back, you'll stare out into the wild blue yonder that is southern Wyoming and know that every mile, both driven and run, was totally worth it. Because they always are.

Welcome mat

Alright, fine. It has come to this. It has come to another end to another day where I can't seem to find enough time. I am overwhelmed. It's these times I feel like I'm not being a good enough... anything (insert the following terms: friend, employee, daughter, sister, runner, dog owner, etc.).

I walked around all day feeling as though I was in a bubble. Several times I had to stop myself to check and see if I was dizzy. Was the room spinning? Was I spinning? My mind feels clogged. Nothing seems to settle it. I hate that feeling.

I think it's fear. It's got to be. It's fear making a short visit and I've got to figure out how to entertain it without letting it take over my life. I recently turned down a promotion, you see. Sure, promotions are good and include many good things like more responsibility, better titles and, of course, more money. But after a week of thinking it over, I just couldn't get my head around the idea that I wanted it. Because I didn't.

And when people asked why, all I could say is "it just isn't right." People do not understand this. They get that 'does not compute' look on their faces and stare at me as though I've lost my mind. It's the only answer I have, though. My heart is just not in it. At some point, you come to realizations about what you want for your life. And despite having to pay for school and my ever-persistent beach habit, money is not everything. My heart, however, is. It took me the full week in limbo to become comfortable with saying that.

This decision is helped by school. I'm not going to school to move up in my current line of work. Yes, I could use this education to do so but that's not my goal. Many people don't know this. They haven't asked, but I don't advertise, either. It's difficult to express to them that although I may be doing very good work and being a good employee (who gets offered promotions, hello!) that I want more. I am not going to be that person that tells someone that while they may be very happy with their job, well it's just not good enough for me. So I keep my mouth shut.

All the while, as I maintain my silence and hope and pray that I am making the right decisions, I feel very alone. Yes, I have friends and family that know about my goals and support me but no one is in my head, or my heart. No one really knows this feeling, this need. I know that it is impossible for anyone to completely understand, but it feels very lonely. Lonely is the welcome mat for fear, and fear is coming in. In fact, it's having its own personal wrestling match with sanity. My sanity.

No, of course I am not going to lose my mind over this. Of course I know it's the right thing to do and even if things work out much different than I plan (damn good odds there, right?) I still need to follow this road. I would much rather try than go along with something where I'm okay but not fulfilled. I can sleep at night knowing I at least tried. I can do that. It's just some days, well, it's really hard to feel like you're living on nothing but a dream.

The part about the run isn't really the point

Yesterday morning I got up at about 5:00 a.m. (yes, on a Saturday) to get my run in. I wanted to do twelve miles and avoid the heat. I'd also had a thrilling Friday evening of watching Music and Lyrics (we thought it was just "eh") and going to bed early so I figured I was setting myself up for a great morning run. Aren't I mature.

Well, almost because for some very non-mature reason, my idea of carb loading on Friday night was cereal and popcorn. I know. So for miles 1-3, I felt great. It was easy. Just about that time when I started feeling that great I-could-run-forever euphoric feeling that never comes around often enough, my poor choices from the night before came back to haunt me. We'll just say it felt like someone was putting a citrus peeler under my ribs and stirring. And trust me, I could get much more graphic than that, but even the memory alone is far too painful.

And you'd think I would have stopped, but no because despite my upper abdominal muscles being in some sort of seizure, I was determined. Well that determination took me another five miles before I gave up and walked the remaining mile home. Nine miles felt like nineteen. I sat down on the couch and stared at the wall, asking myself why I'd ever gotten up to begin with.

But I'm not really telling the entire story, here. There was actually another reason I got up early yesterday. I wanted to get that run out of the way because I had somewhere to be.

Some friends of mine have a small ranch property in Eastern Colorado- you know, horses, cows, pastures- and I'd been invited out to ride. Yes, horses. I am not going to lie, I was Christmas morning excited about this all week.

I've been around horses on and off my entire life. I can't remember my first ride and I've never owned my own horse, but I've always had friends with horses and I've always known enough to get by. So when I pulled up yesterday after having driven down miles and miles of dirt road and my friend said "are ya ready?" I was. At this point, I still had no idea we were actually going to be doing anything with a purpose. Sometime during the whole "saddling up" process, my friend says we're going to move some cows. Wait, what?

I'll save the whole story of how I had an internal freak out and managed to stay calm and just tell you, this is some of the most fun I've ever had. And the most tired I've ever been. Some friends from up the road (or "over yonder" as I started calling it- I know, I'm hilarious) joined us and we herded and moved the cattle from one pasture to an adjacent pasture in less than an hour. I probably just used five words incorrectly and sounded like some ridiculous city girl, but that's fine.

It was hot, dirty, tiring, and so much fun. And when we were finished, and did some "fun" riding, we came back to the house, had a couple beers, watched an incredible rain storm blow across the prairie, followed by rainbows and a beautiful sunset.

I was told I am allowed to come back and help again. And I will, next time I'm over yonder.

.

I think I'm ready for my spurs now.

Now who wouldn't want to run down this road?

(Look closely, those are balloons. Isn't that cool or am I just too easily amused?)

An open road. Few things entice me more. Even sleep-deprived, in pain and having skipped breakfast, I couldn't wait to run down this.

What sight makes you feel like hitting the road?

Living Anyway

At it again. There are roads to drive, roads to run. I’m off to do the relay thing. It’s brand new to me, I really don't know what to expect. I’m doing it anyway.

I haven’t conveyed my anxiety about this event to anyone. There are a couple of reasons but perhaps the most important is I’m just not properly trained for it. In my mind I’m not, anyway. If you look at either of the training schedules and then compared them to my log, it is, in a word, frightening.

The race organizers encourage diligent training for this. From what I hear of my team and dozens of others, many choose not to follow the plan anyway. This does not make me feel any better. The plan has you running two or three-a-days (I have done a few), doing speed work (does not compute) and running hills (which I’d like to avoid but here in mountain land, I fortunately cannot).

I have not been running this way.

I have been running for fun. I have been running for stress relief. I have been running to get the travel weight off and the sun on my face. I have not been wearing a watch. I have been running just enough to not piss off my knees. People around me are very disapproving of this. They think I am crazy or "asking for it" by running. I am running anyway.

(Sidebar: These are the same people, however, that send me ridiculous email "surveys" that I never answer because they ask questions like: If you died and were trapped in a bubble and could see no one for the rest of eternity, what three things would you take with you? And then they get upset when instead of saying photos of my family or inspirational novels I respond with beer, birthday cake and Jimmy Buffett. I just don't think about being trapped in a bubble of the afterlife. I prefer to think about life.)

My doctor, the ever-wise, blue-eyed comedian that he is, says running cannot make my knees worse. It is up to my discretion and my pain tolerance, at this point. That’s sort of like putting me behind the counter at an ice cream shop and telling me it is up to me what to do with the ice cream that day. Does he not know me at all? I have permission, I CANNOT CONTROL WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.

There’s another side to this, though. It’s the me side. The side that cannot wait to get on the road for 500 miles just to complete 178 more with my team. A team of men and women of all ages, from all over, of all different abilities. The fun, the running, the work, the up all night, the celebration, the smell of the van after fifteen hours or more. I cannot wait.

So there might be a little pain. So I might be slower than I’d like. So I might stink. Might. Might. Might. If I can’t make it any worse by running, then I’m going to go ahead and make everything else better.

I won’t live in the might, I’ll just live anyway.

Carribbean Conversation

I think coming back from vacation is the closest we'll ever come to knowing what our own birth was like. There we were, all happy and warm and content and then, it's all gone. And we're shoved into (or back into) a world with cold air, loud people and responsibility.

Not that there was doubt beforehand, but the gods were on my side on this one. I had busy times, quiet times, times with friends and alone time. That was probably what I needed most, though I frequently have a hard time admitting it.

Everything I might have been worried about in the beginning was nothing more than a distant thought once I stepped off the plane. It's so easy, when you leave so much of your little world behind, to just be here. To just be in a place where there are no measures, no expectations and very few people to care who you are or what you're doing. Of course, there are those there to see and be seen. There are always those. But they don't take anything from you, from your experience.

The sailing was great, even with uncooperative wind.

"I don't know," said our Captain, "I think the mountains are calling me again."
"I understand," I told him. "Just remember, Doug, it gets cold up there."

A day on White Bay. Or was it two?

"How long were you there?"

"Just for the day."

"Really?"

"I think so... I'm pretty sure. You get sucked into some kind of Live Slow vortex over there."


Some time spent snorkeling... never a disappointment on St. John.

"Did you see the shark?"

"WHAT?! What shark?"

"Oh... ummm, nothing. Turtle. I meant turtle."


In come the waves, out go your cares.

"It is a known fact that all troubles and cares dissolve in sea water."

"All of them?"

"Yes, but as a Plan B, we have rum."


Palms growing any way they choose.

"This is supposedly the nude beach."

"Like all year round?"

What else would you rather see when you walked over a hill?

"Doing a head stand in salt water hurts."

" Honey, I think doing a head stand always hurts."


One of the billion photos I took of boats.

"One day, I promise, I will have my own boat down here."

"Cool, can I be your first mate?"

"Sure. But the first mate does all the work, you know?"

"Never mind. Who drinks all the rum? I want to be that guy."

Token Things

This afternoon, when packing my suitcase (hello, procrastination) I was trying on clothes just to make sure nothing fit weird or had holes in it or something else equally as likely to surprise me when I'm thousands of miles from home, or a Super Target. As I rolled things neatly into place in my bag, I came across a strange-looking wooden token. At first, I could not figure out where this might have come from or how it got into my tote. There was some lettering on it, but it was mostly rubbed off and looked like it had spent a lot of time in someone's pocket.

I looked at the token, turned it over in my hand and searched every file in my mind about when and where I could have come across the thing. As it often does, my mind wandered, and I thought about all the traveling I've been able to do over the last year. I've been with friends and family, tasted new foods, stamped the passport, stood at the top of mountains and at the edge of the sea. I've run, I've been lazy, I've taken long drives down highways that were once only a place I'd read about. I've seen the sun rise in the East, set in the West and many places in between. I've met remarkable people, heard incredible stories and have been continuously reminded that being with people, talking with them, and connecting with them is an amazing privilege.

It is truly a small, small world and also, it is a blast. I have and have had more fun than anyone ought to be allowed. For all the reasons I feel confused or somehow lost, there are a thousand more to make me feel profoundly blessed and at peace. I can't explain how the things in my life, like work, writing, running and travel balance me. To have the opportunity to be rewarded and challenged by the life you choose is a very special thing.

The last couple months have not painted a perfect picture. There has been death, anger, sadness, strife, bad news, worse news, and many an akward moment. I thought about this as I held that token in my hand today, and the memory came back to me. The token, at least as I've known it, was laying in a crack in the sidewalk as I trapsed in front of a small shop on a humid, sunny, perfect island day. In a quiet mood and waiting for dinnertime, I bent down to pick up the token. It ended up in the pocket of my shorts and a few days later, while on a boat docked in the Caribbean, the token fell out of my pocket and onto the ground.

"You dropped this," said the man who'd been intently cleaning the boat.

"Oh, thanks. I have no idea what it is, I just picked it up the other day."

"It looks like a token... I wonder what it will buy?"

We laughed a little, and joked a lot about what you could get "these days" for a token. We talked for a while but never seemed to come to any real conclusion, though I do remember laughing for a good twenty minutes about the hilarity of the word "squall." (Say it a lot of times, you'll laugh too.)

Though I still don't know what that token was meant to buy, for me, today, it bought a memory. So I'll take it with me on this trip, too. With any luck, it will buy a hundred more.

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I'll be away for the next couple weeks doing the token Caribbean things: sitting, watching, sailing, snorkeling, thinking, breathing... you know. There is a chance, if I take advantage of some friends, that I'll be able to post a bit while I'm away. I know that if I spend twenty minutes laughing about random weather terminology, my bloggie friends are going to want to know, right?

Heh.

So anyway, I'm off for now. Thanks for taking the time to come to my blog, both new and "old" alike. That human connection thing I was talking about earlier? Yeah, that includes you. And you... and yes, even YOU.

Believe: to have confidence in the truth, the existence, or the reliability of something, although without absolute proof that one is right in doing

UPDATE: I meant to add this before now but this "Believe" exercise thing is, apparently, something well known on NPR. I don't know who came up with it or how it came about, but I think it's awesome.
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Well first she did it, and I thought "wow, I cannot attempt that." Then, she did it and I thought "dang, this isn't going to be easy." Then, she did it too and I thought "this is just too much."

But, like most things I do, I wasn't one hundred percent sure about it and yet, I did it anyway. After all, I am, if nothing else, a believer.



I believe that it’s okay to like stuff. I believe we are too hard on ourselves for wanting to consume what’s out there. The issue isn’t spending or buying, it’s control.

I believe happiness is a choice. Every thing, every day. Digging through crap will result in finding a pony.

I believe in the little things, like holding a door and saying “good morning.”

I believe life is very, very short but too long a journey to travel alone.

I believe our bodies are a gift, and we should make every effort to learn to love and treat them as such. I believe we are built to break a sweat.

I believe in kindness, and empathy.

I believe in the power of family, babies and puppies.

I believe you can find peace on the sea, at the top of a mountain or on your living room sofa.

I believe we were created, because I believe there are things that science just cannot explain.

I believe there is absolutely no replacement for education.

I believe music should move you, even if it’s just dancing in the car.

I believe you should approach every situation as if those involved have the best intentions. You will sometimes be disappointed.

I believe, when all else fails, you should laugh.

I believe the ocean has the capability to cure.

I believe shoes should not hurt your feet. This is probably also why I have forty-two pairs of flip flops (a.k.a. “thongs” for my Aussie friends).

I believe in Fall football, drinks with friends, and Sunday afternoon walks.

I believe you can make friends anywhere. I believe I have.

I believe a group, whether your soccer team or your entire nation, must believe in itself to succeed.

I believe we have a responsibility to our planet. I believe most of us don’t take this seriously.

I believe in questioning “the way we have always done it.”

I believe some things are worth the calories.

I believe in travel and broadening your horizons.

I believe harmless superstitions are healthy.

I believe in working hard, and playing hard.

I believe, even with all this, I’m really only on the cusp of knowing all I will truly believe in this life.

My Windshield on the World, Part 8

This latest edition of My Windshield on the World finds me in L.A., a trip I took nearly six weeks ago. It seems so long ago that there's a part of me that questions whether or not it even happened. However, as I learned, L.A. can have that effect on you.

Especially in traffic.

It starts out sort of innocent- I think that's it's strategy.

You see some nice views and think "hmmm, not so bad."

Then, out of nowhere, you're in the middle of something I can only define as definitely not Colorado. If anyone from or familiar with L.A. reads this blog, it appears as if I'm going many different directions in these photos. To that I would have to say, uhhh, yeah.



That's sort of how the entire weekend felt, like one big circle of traffic.

Luckily, I was also able to see that yes, people live in California. They make homes and lives and families. Even contrary to my hillbilly-type beliefs, most of them manage to stay out of the news and lead quite normal lives.

Nonetheless, I can't help but believe that after a weekend of driving or riding the highways, you have the benefit of coming away with the true definition of healthy fear.

As It Should Be

I'll never get used to coming back from a trip. I'd like to say I'm the exact same person when I'm sitting in front of this screen as I am when I traipse down a beach (even if I'm in multiple layers of clothing) but I'm not.

The person traipsing down the beach has worries and troubles, just like the one in front of this screen. The difference is, while I'm away, traipsing down a beach, everything seems a little more possible. When I'm laughing and running with friends, the responsibilities of life are just that. They don't weigh on me, they don't keep me up nights, they certainly don't call after I've left the office and ask what drive I stored a file on (even though I sent an email stating that exact fact). They just fade a little.

Now, sitting here, everything just seems a little more heavy and a lot more there. The dates to keep, the bills to pay, the conversations I have to have but don't want to are all here, right in front of my face. They scream "you can't ignore us now! haha!" And all I want to do is close my eyes and take myself back mere hours to a time when I could concentrate on something else. Where decisions didn't have to be made and life seemed pressure less. Where I seemed confident and fearless.

And maybe that's what I miss the most. I miss the girl that lives, for a few days, like she has no cares. (Sidebar: I don't really know if that's the right approach, though. After all, I did get a speeding ticket and that is definitely something to care about.) I know that's always in me, but you tell me when you see a bill staring you in the face for carpet replacement that you feel as good as when you're eating ice cream and staring out at the ocean. It is not the same.

Of course we all know that. We all know there are ups and downs, good and bad and I think I'm good at that. I think I can take a break and fully enjoy it. I think I can write a check for a bill and well, not enjoy it but at the very least, take it for what it is. The area that needs work? Getting used to living with both. My mind believes it. My brain understands it. My heart, and the kid in me, want to lay on the floor and flail around and whine that it's just not fair!

Part of me, somewhere between my heart and mind, between the whiner and the logical thinker knows that's just how it is. That's vacation. That's friends. That's running. It's all as it's supposed to be, even if paying bills sucks.

Things You Can Learn in Virginia

You can recover from an injury and train for a race and complete it, even if you don't completely believe you can.

You cannot use curse words. You can get a $50 fine (I did not).

You cannot speed on the highways, even by a few miles. You can get a ticket (I did).

You can hang out with friends for five days and it can feel like five minutes.

You can see snow at the beach.

You can drink beer after a race and never really know if you're pronouncing it's name correctly. (Yuengling; which, by the way, is made (I believe) in the home town of the fabulous Bre.)

You can spend five hours in a car with someone and not stop talking the entire time.

You can walk with your friends arm-in-arm to the starting line to keep warm, and then run off into the sunrise.

You can get over your fear of hot tubs.

You can eat and drink more in five days than you have in the last two months.

You can realize how great it is to have people that tell you you look nice. Every day.

You can be reminded how much you truly adore someone opening a door for you. Every time.

You can realize that renting a house with stairs is not a good idea for marathon weekend.

You can be lucky enough to witness someone making great changes in their life, and at the same time, see you have the power to do the same in your own.

Good Like Sweat

Well here I was all ready to sit down and write a post about how fantastic my run yesterday was. It was seventy-five degrees (I know!!) and sunny and hot hot hot and let me tell you, I just soak that stuff UP. Yes, sweat and all. There are few things in life that are really worth it if you don't even break a sweat, right? I mean, there's running, eating, drinking, laughing, kissing, singing in the car, dancing in the car- all a little better when it's hot.

But back to why instead of writing about my run yesterday, I cannot. I'm all scatter-brained and, as my Grandmother would say, full of piss and vinegar. I've got a mere ten hours and counting until I have to have my butt in a coach class seat headed East and I haven't packed a thing!

In those first two paragraphs, I got up twice to a) get a snack and b) get another snack. Heh. Clearly I'm in no shape to be all mushy and lyrical over my absolutely beautiful and sweaty run yesterday, right? And you might say it's pre-race jitters but you know, I've never really had pre-race jitters. I only get nervous about two things before a race: that I won't be able to go pee enough times before the starting gun goes off and therefore will ruin the whole thing from the start or, that I will forget something that's important like Gu or Body Glide and then bonk and chafe- ouch! Other than that, I'm always good. I know, barring serious interruption, I'll get myself across that finish line eventually so meh, whatever. I don't freak out.

The little ball of energy I am now, rather, is pre-friend freak out. Pre Spring Break '07 freak out, actually. I'm just so excited to land in a different city, hop off a plane (with my luggage, please airline, please), and see my friends and hang out for a few days and deal with nothing consequential. The house we'll be waking up to in the morning has an ocean view, a pool table and a hot tub. We've billed the trip as Spring Break '07: Like Spring Break '97 But a Lot Less Stupidity and a Lot More Money which I think is a good thing because instead of phrases like "dude, I am NEVER doing that again" it'll be more like "dude, I am not even going to try, I have to run in the morning." Those introspective walks on the beach will consist of thoughts like "are you taking that job offer in Toronto?" rather than the post-hangover pep talks of "yes, I swear he said he likes you! Who cares if he was kissing Beth, he wrote a song for you! He likes you!" As good as those days were, it's sort of nice to know we won't ever have to choose between drinks or food again.

I plan on packing the tech gear (dang, I am nerdalicious), mostly for picture downloading and sharing purposes, but as for blog posting, I don't know what will happen. I'll either be missing for a few days or updating with something like "You wouldn't believe what Jeff did yesterday! At 8:00 he had one beer and then, an hour later, HE WENT TO BED. This trip is off da hook, y'all!"

Either way, all the best to all of you. Get out there and do some sweating.

Did I?

A friend and I were walking downtown around lunch time the other day when an ambulance from another county pulled over to the side of the road. A paramedic leaned out of the passenger window and asked for directions. I was, of course, happy to help.


Paramedic: Is this road the best way to get back to the Interstate?

Me: Yeah, just go up three blocks and left at the light. You'll see the signs.

Paramedic: Thanks! Oh, and where's the best place to get lunch down here?

Me: Well, you're downtown so just about anywhere. But it's busy, so you'll probably have better luck parking your rig if you take the next exit off the highway and go someplace further North.

Paramedic: Great, thank you!

And off they drove.

Me: Hmmm, he was kind of cute.

My friend: Excuse me, did you just say "rig" [full on air quotes]?

Me: What? Did I?

My friend: Uhh, yeah, breaker one nine, ya did!

Me: ...

I Love Other People

Yesterday gave me a lot of reasons to remember that. It's getting to that busy time again where no one has any free time. We're all gearing up for work projects, volunteer projects, Spring Break, Summer vacations, races, Grandma's birthday, warm weather... you name it, we're all busy and I know you all understand. You're there, too.

For me, it's that on-the-fence time when you're thankful to have a _______ (insert words such as: job, life, circle of friends, good community, legs to run on, etc.) but you're also seeing those free days of the beginning of the year fade away.

Work is like that for me right now. I've taken on the lead of a project along with contributing to another Super Huge project and my entire group is in a learning phase. I suppose it's the nature of this beast called software but one day I'd like to walk into the office and know exactly what's going to happen, just to see what that would feel like. The thing is, I work with some awesome people who are very different than any group I've worked with before. They are generous with information and knowledge, have a great sense of humor and are just good people. I don't have to tell you how rare this is but I'm going to; a group like mine is extremely rare. Which is why, even yesterday when I thought my head would explode with the thought of more on my plate than there already is, I am drop-to-your-knees thankful to work with good people. Long story short[er]: I got help, I know what I'm doing now, I love people. Should I ever come into very large sums of money, I'll find a way to share some with them.

I also work with some pretty great people in the non-profit world. Always being one to think "my boring cubicle world does not define me, oh no!" I feel the need to be involved in other causes. And, truth be told, it's where I'm happy. It's the right place for me, giving my time to something that needs it, under the radar. It's like having a job where whatever you do is great. It's mutually beneficial, even if you make an effort to be selfless, you're going to get something out of it. And, everyone loves a volunteer, right? Well, this volunteer loves everyone she gets to work with and is only about 50% sad that she had to miss Eric Clapton last night due to an already scheduled event. Cliche as it sounds, the faces on those we benefited were worth a thousand riffs. Sorry, Eric, I love people.

Last but never least, I think other bloggers are really cool. I love that your insight on things that get trapped in the "bubble" that is my own world can make me see something differently, and often, more simply than I can on my own. I find it pretty amazing that there's a way to say "hey, here's what I'm doing instead of Christmas gifts" because honestly, I didn't think of that. I find it super cool that there's so little caffeine in Chai tea! I find myself feeling happy to have someone that comments "you are so on top of your world." That statement rocks, even if it's not always how I feel. And I have to say, I'm beyond shocked that there are people who don't know who George Strait is. Once again, this is me realizing the bubble effect in this world. Wow, and thanks for all the comments yesterday and always. I hope those of you not enjoying warm weather right now get to very, very soon. It does wonders.

I think I'm going to Katmandu

Well, the concert was a blast. It was the most ridiculous amount of fun and music and dancing I've had in a while. I'm not really one to not enjoy a concert- I love the music from where ever I am and am a big believer in the cheap seats. However, after being in the thirteenth row last night, I highly recommend it. It's almost like you forget about the 50,000 other people behind you. Almost.

And, I gotta say, I'm amazed by a sixty-one year old man that can pack an arena and rock out like that for over two hours, including two encores. That's worth my zombie-like state today, of this I'm certain.

I made friends, though, with a lot of the crowd around me. My friend and I (she ten years older than me) were the only people in sight under 40. For this we received a lot of ridicule. When the lady to my left pulled out her Bob Seger ticket stub from 1977, Toledo, Ohio and the lady to our right showed us her tour t-shirt from Summer 1986, we were both asked what we were doing in those years. My, you should have seen the looks when I said "well, in '77 I had yet to be conceived and in the summer of '86, I was basking in the glow of Kindergarten graduation."

They were seriously doubting I even knew how to spell Bob Seger, much less had any idea of what the music would be. I, of course, proved them wrong when three lines into Roll Me Away the lady to my left and I had one arm around one another and the other waving in the air together, singing along. Ah, the power of music!

Now I am more than sufficiently tired and, lo and behold, endlessly lucky because I'm taking off work early today on a SUPER secret mission. A mission so important and secret and confidential I can reveal not a detail. The only thing I can say is I'm not going to Katmandu. Not yet, anyway.

Garden of the Happy*

Last weekend the Front Range was finally graced with a couple days so sunny and beautiful, fifty degrees (F) began to make me actually believe that Summer might return this year. Instead of the Winter blues, I was doing some serious Summer dreamin'. And not just the oh-I-feel-the-sun-on-my-face-how-wonderful kind of dreaming but also the oh-I-should-start-bringing-out-the-summer-clothes-and-(insert jumping up and down here) the-flip-flops-too kind of dreaming.

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One of the reasons I love warmer weather is because it gets me out. It relaxes me and allows me to appreciate everything around me more. It's not that I don't marvel at the beautiful place I get to live every day, but when I'm allowed to just sit and bask in it for a while, it makes me wonder why I ever pine for other places. Well, sort of anyway.

I feel like it's a gift to not only have beauty around me but have the ability to appreciate it.

Sometimes, I look around me and think "how can I not be happy?"

While walking around on Sunday, recovering from a great eight miler on Saturday, looking at beautiful things, appreciating things larger and more stunning than I have words for, the thought came to me: I am one of the happiest people I know. Yes, I might be a huge dork for saying so on my blog, but the best part of being happy (as well as the best part of being a dork) is you don't care. That's how good it is.

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If that's not enough, it feels peaceful too. It feels like I can walk down the street and smile at people and not even have a reason why. And so I do, and I like it. It feels natural where as times in the past, it's been more difficult.


Who knows, it might just be a moment. A part of time when I get to take a look around, at the hills and rocks where I grew up and love it for everything I've always known it to be but also things I might never have seen before. It doesn't effect me the same way other places do; it has no high and low tide, it has no shore. I make an excellent beach bum, there is no doubt.

But it does have it's own rhythm and it's own way of comforting me when I need it.

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That seems okay at times, too. With everything else life brings, the 99.99% of things you don't write about on your blog, living in a place that actually feels good and feels like home is really the best comfort you could hope for.

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And if all else fails, I also have, quite possibly, the cutest dog on Earth. That also makes me pretty happy.

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*The photos (except that of the dog) were taken at Garden of the Gods, CO.

A little right, right now

Yesterday, I finally got to get out and run on an ice and snow-free road for the first time all year. It was also a few degrees above 50 (F) which never hurts. Right around 50 with sun and no wind is what I consider perfect running conditions. It also helps if your body feels good. I did the two-a-day workout again yesterday but took it easy at lunch and saved myself for the run.

Boy, was it worth it.

I had to talk myself into a slower pace than normal because though I want to go all out, I don't want to ruin all the physical therapy and weight lifting work I've done. At least not yet. It was good to soak up some sun and just take in whatever was around me, though. I ran a route I've run at least a hundred times before but I noticed some things I hadn't before, too. The way the sun hit a certain window on the back of a house. The way the trail curved up the hill, the shadows of the tall trees framing the path. It was all very peaceful, like after all this up and down, I'd finally been allowed a calm, comfortable few miles.

The other day, Bre posted about a little ritual she has of reminding herself of what she's thankful for at the end of the day. I thought of this on my run yesterday and was nearly overwhelmed at the list I could make, and I'm someone who usually is grateful on a daily basis. A friend of mine, in fact, told me just the other day that if someone gave me a box of crap for my birthday, I'd dig through it looking for the Pony. Mostly, that's true. But on this run yesterday, I was reminded of just how many ponies I really do have.

Sometimes I can get so caught up in things not going as planned or even as hoped. I lose sight of all that I've accomplished because I'm already moving on to what's next. I start acting like things that happen as well as things I make happen are just pieces of a puzzle when, really, I think they are the puzzle. I catch myself in thoughts like will I ever do this or that when really, if I were to look back on the years, I'm already doing what I used to wonder about. It's not the dreams that aren't coming true, it's me constantly changing them that's the trouble. I think there's a balance there, though. I will always want better, want more, but I am reminded to take the time to want what I've got, too. Maybe, if we take those moments and take an inventory of what we really have, we are better suited for what's to come. Don't stop dreaming, of course, but also, stop long enough to realize that those dreams might be right now.