Friday, August 30, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Hugs and Quiches
If you would have asked me at 10 years old where I would be at 27, other than saying "on Broadway" (oops), I definitely would have said married with kids. I had a plan for these sorts of things, and I'm way off schedule.
And if you would have asked me at 10 years old if I would ever be training for a half marathon to start my life over again at 27 (let's assume I knew what a half marathon was at 10 years old), I would say HELL NO. I had crayon wars to think about, books to read for CARP, and many meatballs to consume. Honestly, I would have said HELL NO at 26, too.
So there you have it. The moral of the story here is not to distrust your 10-year-old self. It's the bigger picture - that sometimes life throws you curve balls. Things you can't always predict will happen, but you have to genuinely believe were meant to happen for a reason.
Not everything in life is linear like this painfully relatable, grossly realistic list of the 26 Stages of Taking Up Running. And even then, I'm torn between 23 and 24, and forever fixated on 21 because you might mistake my foot x-rays for the claws of a jacana. I may or may not be able to walk on lily pads...
So, stuff got real in my last post. Then I fell off the blogosphere for a few weeks. But the good thing is I was busy doing things that made me happy. Developing an addiction for horse racing, going on vacation with my godson (ironically to Hersheypark - uh oh, that place is hilly!), lots of good music, a perfect wedding, doubleheader tapas and margs (with my 5-year NYC crew), a long overdue home GRUNCH, a scenic tour of a rebuilt city #STTS (you're welcome), and a solid 4.5 mile group run...
And amongst all of that pure joy, I actually opened myself up to someone else for the first time in a long time. Someone patient and kind that I will be forever grateful for. Someone I may have been resisting for being too far, but I've also let closest to my heart. But more to come on that, I've still got 60 days ;)
Forget plans, just enjoy your hugs and quiches... YOLO.
And if you would have asked me at 10 years old if I would ever be training for a half marathon to start my life over again at 27 (let's assume I knew what a half marathon was at 10 years old), I would say HELL NO. I had crayon wars to think about, books to read for CARP, and many meatballs to consume. Honestly, I would have said HELL NO at 26, too.
So there you have it. The moral of the story here is not to distrust your 10-year-old self. It's the bigger picture - that sometimes life throws you curve balls. Things you can't always predict will happen, but you have to genuinely believe were meant to happen for a reason.
Not everything in life is linear like this painfully relatable, grossly realistic list of the 26 Stages of Taking Up Running. And even then, I'm torn between 23 and 24, and forever fixated on 21 because you might mistake my foot x-rays for the claws of a jacana. I may or may not be able to walk on lily pads...
So, stuff got real in my last post. Then I fell off the blogosphere for a few weeks. But the good thing is I was busy doing things that made me happy. Developing an addiction for horse racing, going on vacation with my godson (ironically to Hersheypark - uh oh, that place is hilly!), lots of good music, a perfect wedding, doubleheader tapas and margs (with my 5-year NYC crew), a long overdue home GRUNCH, a scenic tour of a rebuilt city #STTS (you're welcome), and a solid 4.5 mile group run...
And amongst all of that pure joy, I actually opened myself up to someone else for the first time in a long time. Someone patient and kind that I will be forever grateful for. Someone I may have been resisting for being too far, but I've also let closest to my heart. But more to come on that, I've still got 60 days ;)
Forget plans, just enjoy your hugs and quiches... YOLO.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Rapid Fermentation
My apartment smells like Jolly Ranchers.
That's not necessarily a good thing. You see, tonight I was "shaking well" some delicious V8 V-Fusion goodness, when... POP!
Not only did I scream as if I was watching a red wedding and my heart skip a few beats, but there was Acai Mixed Berry something EVERYWHERE. And then I go through the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief in approximately 30 seconds:
Running has been a GREAT stress relief for me. Yesterday, when I was thinking about an impending job move and debt and coordinating transportation to a funeral, I decided to just run. And 30 minutes is all you need. There's nothing like pounding the pavement to shake off the feeling you might have been poisoned.
-----------------------
8/1/2013
Today is one year from the day I left him. Another setback for the 180, seeing that I actually went a complete full circle... the funeral mass happened to be in the one place I haven't set foot in for exactly one year. Borough Park.
Borough Park was an interesting coordinate in the map of my life. Moving in was the most exciting thing I've ever done. I'll never forget searching for apartments together, or the signing of the lease that I thought was with my roommate for life. I would come home to him sweeping with a huge, goofy smile on his face, just because he "wanted to keep the place nice for us." And I would go grocery shopping and easily drop $100 to supplement the pounds of meat he would consume, yet finally felt fulfilled because I was capable of taking care of someone. But it didn't take long after the custom-ordered couch and wood panel blinds were delivered that the rose colored glasses turned to defective transition lenses.
And each day after that continued to suck the life out of me until I had nothing to look forward to on my walk of shame back to our place but the marble countertops. I call it the walk of shame, because I had to literally walk back with my head down since I couldn't make eye contact with any of my neighbors. I was trapped in a cultural divide, as he was sucked into the zombie land of his profession. I had more cabinets than things to store in them, but my heart was bursting. I was a Stretch Armstrong reaching further than my arms could possibly extend, and he was a rare Quackers (without wings) Beanie Baby with a tag protector that I could never touch.
So yeah, today sucked. But every day is a realization that I am better now than I was before. I mean - if you like it, than you should have put an onion ring on it...
"I am better than I was yesterday, but not as good as I will be tomorrow." - UNKNOWN
That's not necessarily a good thing. You see, tonight I was "shaking well" some delicious V8 V-Fusion goodness, when... POP!
Not only did I scream as if I was watching a red wedding and my heart skip a few beats, but there was Acai Mixed Berry something EVERYWHERE. And then I go through the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief in approximately 30 seconds:
- DENIAL: What the F just happened?!
- ANGER: I'm going to sue Campbell Foods.
- BARGAINING: What if the bottle was facing my eye?
- DEPRESSION: This isn't going to clean itself up.
- ACCEPTANCE: Life goes on.
Running has been a GREAT stress relief for me. Yesterday, when I was thinking about an impending job move and debt and coordinating transportation to a funeral, I decided to just run. And 30 minutes is all you need. There's nothing like pounding the pavement to shake off the feeling you might have been poisoned.
-----------------------
8/1/2013
Today is one year from the day I left him. Another setback for the 180, seeing that I actually went a complete full circle... the funeral mass happened to be in the one place I haven't set foot in for exactly one year. Borough Park.
Borough Park was an interesting coordinate in the map of my life. Moving in was the most exciting thing I've ever done. I'll never forget searching for apartments together, or the signing of the lease that I thought was with my roommate for life. I would come home to him sweeping with a huge, goofy smile on his face, just because he "wanted to keep the place nice for us." And I would go grocery shopping and easily drop $100 to supplement the pounds of meat he would consume, yet finally felt fulfilled because I was capable of taking care of someone. But it didn't take long after the custom-ordered couch and wood panel blinds were delivered that the rose colored glasses turned to defective transition lenses.
And each day after that continued to suck the life out of me until I had nothing to look forward to on my walk of shame back to our place but the marble countertops. I call it the walk of shame, because I had to literally walk back with my head down since I couldn't make eye contact with any of my neighbors. I was trapped in a cultural divide, as he was sucked into the zombie land of his profession. I had more cabinets than things to store in them, but my heart was bursting. I was a Stretch Armstrong reaching further than my arms could possibly extend, and he was a rare Quackers (without wings) Beanie Baby with a tag protector that I could never touch.
So yeah, today sucked. But every day is a realization that I am better now than I was before. I mean - if you like it, than you should have put an onion ring on it...
"I am better than I was yesterday, but not as good as I will be tomorrow." - UNKNOWN
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