It's all good because the only cold that's here right now is mine

Over the weekend, the virus I've been "entertaining" finally kicked in. Honestly, it's really nothing more than a cold and it's not some foreign disease but rather something more common contracted from a sixteen-month-old child.

Aside from a slightly heavier-than-normal head and aforementioned child screaming into my ear just for fun, the weekend has been the September ideal you might always dream about. The house is clean, the laundry is finished, football has been watched, the dog was walked and pizza was eaten.

And the point of all this? Well, I think I am accepting that Fall is here. We will not utter the words "Summer is over" because that is entirely unnecessary. Rather, we will just say we like football and changing leaves and the Indian Summer-ish days that are upon us.

Mostly, I am loving it. Even when I'm seeing things through a cold-medicine haze, when you consider that the team won, there's word that my sister's husband is coming home from Iraq by Christmas, and there are beautiful things all around, it's not hazy at all. In fact, it's actually quite clear how good everything seems to be.

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.

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.

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.

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I think I'm ready for my spurs now.

Every Day is a Glory Day

I close my eyes. I can hear the splash of the water, the laughter of the children. I take a deep breath, the scent of chlorine and barbecue fills the air. The sun beats down, it feels more like July than August. The Dog Days, these must be them.

Work was heavy last week. Every day worked seemed to be followed by an especially demanding evening. The curse of doing too much. The consequence of having it too good. I look around, it's all here. Now. An afternoon in time. A beach ball lands at my feet and instinctively I kick it back into the water.

The sky above is a remarkable blue, and I remember that no matter where I lay my head there's just no sky like the one here, at home. It's deep and wide, it's clouds are bright white. It this sky I stared up at, on my back, from the grass of my childhood front yard, making shapes out of nothing. My feet are hot on the pool deck and it brings me back to the moment.

I can't quite put my finger on what it is here lately. I can't quite understand why it's suddenly so easy to take stock. To look out into the blue or into the faces of people I care about, and realize how lucky I am. Maybe it's just summertime, maybe it's the hard work, maybe it's age. I can feel it, though. It's tangible. Although I'm not ever likely to stop trying to do more and work harder, I'm glad I can see where I'm at. It's a quiet reassurance to know that even if it were to all stop tomorrow, I'd still have known it today.

Life is more like a river than a lake

Yes, there is a possibility that I have just been allowed to have it too good lately. Though I've been working hard enough to come home at the end of the day and tell myself "you've worked hard, you need a break" I also think I've been pretty lucky with the breaks so far.

If nothing else, I've at least been lucky to have spent them with really wonderful people. Although the places and the weather have all been beautiful, I can't help but think the people you spend your time with, if they're really awesome people that you love, would be people you'd be with anywhere.

I found myself thinking that a lot over the weekend. Around the campfire or on the lake shore, I just sat back and took it all in. I'm always in fear a little of bringing up the good. I don't want to brag anyone to death or, heaven forbid, make it all go away by talking about it. At the same time, though, that is what the good is about, isn't it? It's there to enjoy- to celebrate as if this feeling, this moment itself might be what we always use to define good.

Earlier in life, at times when I didn't know what awful really was, I wasn't great at recognizing life's truly good moments. I didn't really know the stark, meaningful contrast between love and hate or peace and fighting. Hate was the girl that purposely kicked sand on me, war was a yellow button I wore on my jacket.

Growing up, growing old, is such a bittersweet contrast in itself. The nostalgia, the lust for those days gone by is only overshadowed by the appreciation that develops over time. Over the weekend, as is often when friends get together, the question came up of would you ever go back in time?

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My first instinct is to say yes, knowing what I know now, of course. But then I think about it, and realize nothing I remember would have been remotely as grand had I not had the privilege of innocence. I wouldn't have cared deeply about getting a perm or missing an episode of Beverly Hills 90210. I wouldn't have gotten butterflies at the thought of a boy sitting next to me on the bus or have been surprised by Halloween haunted houses. So no, today I'd say going back would just not work. Mostly, it would prevent moving forward. It would prevent weekends at the lake, to be with friends and reminisce.

And what are good weekends with empty margarita glasses and clear blue skies worth if you can't reminisce about being seventeen again? I certainly wouldn't be able to tell the story of the last time I was at this here lake, when the girls met up with the boys, likely all having stretched the truth with the parents. Where we walked shoulder to shoulder, wondering if he was going to take our hand. The boathouse where the girls would go to tell one another which boy liked them and which was a "loser." The hill where, in the late night hours, you might sneak off and, you know, read.

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I don't need to go back to that. Remembering it is part of the magic. And life, in it's sneaky, quiet way just keeps getting better and better.

Your Town

At times, I very seriously toss around the idea of moving. Of just picking up life and going somewhere different and new. I long for something new, more diverse, richer. Different.

Mostly for curiosity (but also for that little nagging voice that's always saying "go go go") I look into things like climate, crime, the job market, proximity to mountains/trails/beaches and whether or not the town has a reputable microbrewery nearby. Like I said, mostly for curiosity.

The thing is, I really love my town. I love the hot summers and the cool mountains. I love the lifestyle people embrace here. I love that my family is nearby. I love that there's an airport close that will take me anywhere I could ever think to go. I appreciate the winters (though you know I do not love them) and I look forward to Spring and Fall. I am involved in the community and have good friends here. And SUN! We have so much sun.

But I still wonder.

I think about the Northwest- would I be lost without all those sunny days? I think about the Midwest- is it true what they say about the bugs? I think about the Northeast- could I find good trails? I think about the Gulf- could I take the humidity? I think about it all. Carolina? Texas? New York? Georgia? California?

Honestly, there are some places I would not live. This number, though, is far outweighed by all the places I'm willing to try. Not that "trying out" a new city is realistic for me, but it's good to know.

So how about you? How about your city? What brought you there? Why do you like it? Why do you love it? What drives you crazy about it?

One thing we learn about where we live are those little things that you really don't know until you live there. Here in Colorado, for instance, we often find transplants that don't know much about the basics of Winter driving. An example: Ice is slippery.

Say I'm going to move to your city, what would you want me to know? What wouldn't I "get" until I lived there?

There Are Worse Things

I spent many hours of last week on what seemed like a scale. I teetered back and forth, weighing things in one side, then the other. The good and bad, the action and the consequence, the effort and the reward. Much of this was, of course, due to the marathon I was "missing."

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I no longer consider my knee pain an injury. My knees, like much of my body will continue to be in life, I'm sure, are now just a challenge. Something I have to take special care of most, if not all, the time if I'm going to keep doing what I love to do. And I do love running.

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The product of loving running, though, is sometimes not running. This is what I decided on this weekend. Last week's decisions and vacillating were so difficult because I was focusing on all the things that wouldn't be if I didn't run. I wouldn't see the course, I wouldn't see the beauty, I wouldn't be with other runners, I wouldn't cross the finish. But, on Saturday morning before I left for the trek up to Northern Colorado, I met some friends for breakfast (Sidebar: they are truly a breakfast club. If, you know, the breakfast club were made up of four older men in their forties and fifties that both befriended and defended me for the first two years I was out in the "real world" working my very first Big Girl Job in a very male-dominated organization. They are like my uncles/brothers/fathers, depending on the need. And, they are great.).

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As we were talking about the race and me running or not,I still hadn't really made up my mind. Not completely, anyway. We were walking out of the restaurant and uncle/brother/dad #3 looked at me, put his hands on my shoulders and said "kid, there are worse things, you know." And I did know.

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I remembered that all weekend.

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As I drove up North with a friend in the car, singing loudly and badly to Bon Jovi.

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As I drove across the still somewhat empty Northern plains of Colorado, past the heifers and the sheep farms.
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As we mixed drinks and ate an obscene amount of grilled food at another friend's home later that night.
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When I stood at the finish line and watched people cheer, cry, rejoice and smile.

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When we giggled in bed that night, as if we'd stepped back in time fifteen years. As the sun shined and the clouds stayed away. As we traipsed through the little college town, gazing at the boys we're now way too old to date. When we told stories in the car, laughing until we cried. When my jaw hurt from smiling for all the cameras.

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I didn't see but the last mile of the course. I didn't cross the finish this time or wear the medal. And I didn't like it, but I didn't mind it either. There are worse things.

In Like a Lion

How do you know it's Spring in Colorado? It snows. And it's freezing on Easter. It was a wet, heavy snow. More like rain that just decided to be colder, and more spiteful. Like a scorned- dare I say- woman getting her one last gesture in revenge before she was finally chased out by the new love. It was cold and uncomfortable. The sort of cold that, when coming out of the movie theatre late Friday night and having to scrape windows, made me think seriously of moving to the desert. I even dreamed about it that night, hearing over and over in my mind "it's a dry heat."

Nonetheless, it is Springtime. There are certain signs everywhere and though it was cold and likely will be again later this week, I know I'm not the only one who's impatiently waiting for warmer days. And I'd be lying, a little, if I said I didn't at least like this weather to an extent.


Spring weather is very unique in Colorado. And though I hate, hate, hate to be cold, the erratic nature of this transition in seasons fits me. It changes it's mind, seemingly on a whim (though always carefully calculated behind the scenes) and when everyone thinks it's become boring and predictable, it throws something new into the mix. Though, I assure you, if I were weather, I'd never throw in snow. It'd be more like sunshine. And beach chairs. I digress.

I suppose this is why the desert will have to wait. I'm somewhat accustomed to this changing of seasons. It's timing and it's ability to surprise from one day to the next is comforting in a way. It's weather that reminds you to soak up the moments, it reminds you of how to live. It's weather that makes you draw every breath a little deeper, to let those mental pictures of smiles on faces and shadows on the ground sink in a little longer. It's the kind of weather that makes you sit on the porch in the late afternoon, hoping to absorb a little sun in anticipation of upcoming getaways. It's the kind of weather that makes you snuggle up one evening only to run through the grass barefoot and toss a ball around the next day.

Most of all, it has promise. Promise of newness, of warmth and of more. Promise of summer bar-b-ques, outdoor concerts and patio lunches. And really, in my mind, even if I have to endure some window scraping, there's still nothing better than knowing the best, what I love and look forward to most, is yet to be.

It's Back

I'm sort of needing to be reminded why I live here right now.

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.

Lots of linkage, less content

Friday night held plans of grand proportions, let me tell you. I was to attend a "party" with my mother in which women try to sell other women things they don't need that promise to inspire all things wonderful in one's life. While I'm not altogether against these types of things, I would not say I looked forward to it nearly as much as a bottle of wine I've been dying to try since it was given as a gift at Christmas and a travel book I've been trying to get through since, well, forever.
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Somehow, the stars aligned a little (or possibly froze in place, thank you very much Groundhog Day of 2 degrees F) and the party was cancelled. I feel a little guilty, though, because [let's call her] Suzy, the party host, was involved in a fender bender and though everything is okay, she was too shaken up to host a party. There was also something about a husband's fancy car and some splainin' to do, but I didn't quite follow that. Blame the weather, Suzy, everyone else is.
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Thankfully, I stayed home with books and wine and a fully functioning furnace (ahh, heat!). Part of me feels a little boring as I have booked a few Friday nights home in the past couple months but part of me also says, who cares, it's -7 degrees outside and the streets are icy. You would be crazy to go out there! Which also reminds me that I have plans tomorrow and sometimes two nights in a row is a bit much. The cold is also totally bringing out the Granny in me. Did I mention my joints actually hurt? Heh.
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In addition, over the holidays I became the proud owner of one of these little buggers and I have yet to be able to actually use it since it's arrival. I am more than a little ready to take it out since I, though disliking math, love little things that do math and numbers for me. I have been known to be a little number obsessed, actually (see, Michelle, it's not just you) so Garmin and I are likely to be very happy together. Ever after, one might even say. Also, I hear it will tell you exactly how to get back to your starting point which will be infinitely helpful in situations like my North Carolina Woods Adventure 2006. Oh all the things the cold is keeping me from doing!
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Which reminds me, all y'all (sorry, I spoke on the phone earlier to someone in Texas, it rubbed off, as usual) had all kinds of suggestions for getting over the Winter Blues. A couple of my favorite Minnesotan bloggers suggested special lights. Several suggested tanning beds, which I know we are all against but they are soooo warm and cozy and really, what else forces you to lay still and close your eyes for ten minutes straight? Josh, in his usual I-am-a-human-search-engine way, suggested a Bahamavention which is equally hilarious and disturbing. Really, go watch it. The intro is all average, albeit angry and stressed, folks who need a vacation and then the page itself is full of people that look like they went back and shopped at JCPenney in 1984 for their outfits. Though, I suppose if you've been "Bahamavened" you don't necessarily care what you're wearing because maybe it won't last long anyway; I have, after all, been to Senor Frogs. I kid, mostly. Just not about that tropical locale part because it was [let's call him] Mr. Anonymous that hit it on the head saying "A trip to STJ would probably help!." Yes, it would. And it's coming, I promise. Not soon enough but we all know 'soon' is relative.
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I'm not quite sure how to end this so I'll just leave you with this:
(This is a scanned photo from actual film so it's a little pixelated because I stink at resizing stuff I guess, but I think you'll get the point anyway.)

Have a good weekend!

Enough

It is snowing again.

The prediction? One to three inches. We already have 6 here at my office.

I want to go home, but driving on that ice will not be fun. I should have stayed there, but software beckons.

Sure makes that ol' joint in my last post seem even better. Right now, I'd trade a million dollars in debt for never having to set foot on a snowflake ever again. You have no idea how serious I am.

Not that you wanted to go anywhere, anyway

It may be difficult to see in this picture, but I am freaking buried in snow. That's the "view" out of my patio door and if you look closely, you can see the top edge of the drift just before the railing. I'm taking the photo from above, so you can sort of see the drift comes about a third of the way up the door.

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In other words: it was dang snowy and windy for a dang long time.

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Thankfully, the job decided it wasn't safe for everyone to come in today... I won't talk about how it took them the entirety of the "delayed start" to decide this because that would just be silly. The important part is, I'm at home and I get to wrap presents all day.

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I'm happy to get this finished now because inevitably, I've forgotten to get someone something and now I'll have a couple more days to get my act together. Yes, I've had lists -come on, who do you think I am?- but there's just always that one little gift you forget.

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I'm also a little upset with Amazon as the CD box sets I've ordered for my grandma aren't here yet and they were ordered over two weeks ago. Don't make me hate you, Amazon, just. don't. do it.

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The snow is probably going to throw a wrench in my plan for running this weekend, too. Following doctor's orders I've taken the last two weeks off from any running, so I was hoping to get my first run in this Saturday and, if that went well, I'd then be able to do my "traditional" Christmas morning run. Last year, I was able to run on Christmas day in shorts- it was sixty degrees (F). I'm guessing this year is going to be a little less pleasant.

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Though I haven't been running, I can't say I feel entirely lazy. I'm glad to have taken the time off and though I thought it would be horrible at first, I now realize the purpose of rest after a marathon: to heal all the little stuff and realize what really hurts. Heh. Really, though, I've been strength training and stretching which are two things I neglected in the past six months.

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Also, and I feel a little silly admitting this, but the Three-in-Three challenge (Nicole's idea that I invited myself to join in on) is going well. Better than expected, actually, as I've lost six pounds so far. I contribute this partly to not wanting any of the billion cookies I baked and also to finally taking the time to get to all the things I'd put off before the marathon.

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I also have gone back to the Three and Three eating habit that my trainer put me on years back (the fact that this is also a "three" thing is strictly coincidence, I promise). You eat only every three hours and not three hours before you go to bed. It's really quite easy. It allows me to plan ahead (which I believe is THE key to healthy eating) and I'm never really hungry. If I eat at 6:00 a.m. and am hungry at 8:00 a.m., I know I only have to wait another hour before I eat again. It's not torture to me and often, I forget about the schedule altogether. Another good tip is to make sure every meal or snack contains protein. Also, if you're going to include a lot of breads or crackers or something, do it before noon. I don't know why, though I'm sure there's a science to it somewhere, but this makes a huge difference.

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This also helps in getting my head together. I feel a little more successful and a little less "stuck." Life wise, anyway. I'm still stuck in the snow.

Helping of Snow

When you need to sit inside, get your house, your suitcase, and your thoughts together, it helps if it's cold and snowy outside. Thankfully, this is what I'm getting today. We're getting a good share of snow and though I hate it, it's going to help.

I'm not running today, treadmill or otherwise. According to schedule, I ought to do an eight miler today but according to my knee, I need to take some Advil, rest and have confidence that my training will get me through the marathon.

I have some good friends that are a doctor and nurse (and husband and wife) and they are both reassuring me that rest and keeping the knee from getting stiff are the best things I can do for myself right now. I am doing my darndest to believe them, afterall aside from being adorable and successful, they have something like 14 years of combined schooling and twice that in experience. And my medical knowledge comes from working at a veterinary clinic for four years and Google. Obviously, I need to listen to them.

Inevitably, though, the nerves will still get to me. I'm trying to stay calm. Trying to take care of myself. This last week before the race, I have a pretty well-planned diet, I'm avoiding alcohol and excessive sugar, I'm stretching; just trying to maintain. Later tonight might put that off course a little becuase if someone I'm having dinner with wants to order me a glass of wine, I am not going to refuse. But overall, I'm just trying to not lose my mind in taper-mode.

M friend, the nurse, told me that these last couple weeks before are PMS (Pre-Marathon Syndrome). The body and mind are a little whacky, which is remarkably similar to the actual PMS. I've tapered for half marathons a ton of times, but the experience is different. Completely different.

Which is why I'm glad the snow came today, and who would have ever though I would say that? I needed something to make me stay in, relax and take care of business. And also, a good reason to drink tea and watch a movie or two.