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.
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