Either it's Black or it's White

Enough already. Stop this meteorological vacillation. Either it's spring or it's still winter; weather cannot be combined like altered meal patterns-brunch, linner.

Sprinter? Yeah, it just doesn't work. Unless winter trips on a hurdle and spring will work on it's starting block performance.

Come on, 801. Come on.

But you are lucky that despite winter's jealousy of spring's popularity, my outings with old and new friends alike did not suffer. Three nights in a row... one for the books.

Chariots of a Small Burning Flame

After finishing a marathon six months ago, my running perspective has most certainly been altered. An 8 mile training maintenance run suddenly became standard and only difficult at the end.

{Tangent} My philosophy: the last ten minutes of every run, no matter how in shape you are, should be challenging. However, I'm not so sure how beneficial this philosophy is of mine. I find motivation to go for a run on a more consistent basis waivers, as I realize that I will be in some degree of pain at some point! But anyway.... {See, I warned you...}

So when I signed up for the Salt Lake City Half Marathon a couple of months ago, I felt no apprehension. It's only 13 miles, no big deal. My training regimen even reflected this thought process.

In other words, I really didn't do much.

However, the night before as I carbo loaded with my two brothers at the DoDo restaurant in Gateway, I suddenly felt nervous. It is a competition after all, and because I have retired my hard worn soccer cleats, I craved competition. I craved to be sore after a race; it means my body is getting stronger. I craved pushing myself to to the limit. I love to defeat my mental devil that likes to tell me to slow down... take a quick walk... it's okay if your time isn't as good...

Must...!

Not....!

Listen....!

While devouring my delectable Italian Chicken Salad sandwich, I remembered how difficult my first half marathon was. I remembered how much I told myself at mile 10, "Why are you doing this? This isn't even fun." My nerves began to jitter.

Saturday morning, I began the race at 7am. Before I knew it, I was done. I had finished the race at 8:53am, one hour and 53 minutes after I had started. That meant I averaged an 8:30 minute mile.

Holy smokes. I didn't know I could do that, for 13.1 miles straight. But I did. And it felt so good!

I crave competition: satiated. I started in the back so I could pass people, and not be passed.

I crave pushing myself to the limit: Done. Finished the race with a personal best record.

I crave to be sore: Ohhhhh boy, maybe I should be careful of what I wish for.

And I was so pleased to know that my post collegiate athlete body is still capable of training very little, but can still have game. And even though the satisfaction of completing a half marathon versus a full marathon is different, one is not better than the other.

Marathon: I did it. I finished. Woohoo. A bucket list item can be checked off.

Half Marathon: Not only did I do it, but I went for a good time and got a PR out of it. And my knee didn't even swell (contrary to a cantaloupe sized joint six months ago).

Moral of the Story: It's time for new running shoes.

Weekend Memoirs

After a disappointing Utah Jazz loss Friday night, Henry Poole is Here lightened the mood. And the Costa Vida sweet pork salad, swedish fish, starbursts, and Reese's peanut butter eggs did a good job, too.

Thanks, Matt for letting us crash your place; and I apologize, again, for my absence these past months. I am back in action. I had to figure out what was most important to me, as I had suddenly become far less important in someone else's life.

So to reiterate my facebook status, "'all we have is right now. And we have to act on that.' which is why I woke up and ate starbursts for breakfast." Again, I had to figure out what was most important to me. Toast and jam in the kitchen, or breakfast in bed? Clearly, we know the winner.

Cheers to Grant, as the Bayou offered yummy drinks, live music, and stimulating conversation. Aren't you glad my anger resolution has, like, a 2 second turn around? It only meant we were both challenging one another's core beliefs, something that needs to be done... periodically.

And I think we established some good ground rules for me:

I want and deserve someone who will fight to have me.

Who will know what he wants when he meets me.

Who will recognize something good and will hold onto it.

So Grant, cheers, to that.

Now let's go find Robert Pattinson.



PS: Shout out to Randi Baker! Thanks for reading girlfriend. Every time I lick my hand for salt and suck on a lemon post Jose, thoughts of you are inevitable. And last weekend was no exception. I hope you and the puppy are happy and healthy!

The details are in the fabric.

I know I am not alone

when I say,

the smell of a new j. crew

merino wool sweater,

is a ridiculously beautiful thing.

But,

is it as heart warming as a phone call from daddy-o?

Or as tender as a shout out in my baby sister's blog?

Or making a new adorable girlfriend, Christine?

Dare I say the new clothes' scent is beat out by sentimental relationship warm fuzzies?

Yes, I do dare.

Warm fuzzies rule.

A quickie

First "business" trip. Done and done.

And no I am not misusing quotation marks. It didn't feel like "business" felt appropriate when sitting in pajamas (remember, those are my scrubs) and having no need to have my cellular phone permanently attached to my ear. Nah, I couldn't call this business when seven men dressed in khakis, baby blue sweaters and pinstriped collared shirts boarded the Dallas Airport rental car bus. Now these men meant business. One gentleman in particular spoke in an overtly loud intonation, as if he felt needing to prove himself to the man sitting across from him at 9:30pm was crucial to next day's sale.

And perhaps I should have asked to borrow some of their business clothes, or perhaps that overtly loud intonation, as the task of renting a car proved to be tricky. Was it the pajamas? Was it my yankee accent? Or did the fearful wrinkles in my forehead clearly spell out, "This girl is far from Kansas"? Either way, it was like pulling teeth to get any kind of customer service. Note to self: a smile goes a long way.

After an hour journey from Dallas to Denton in my Dodge Journey which smelled of strawberries and orange pesticide, I cozily curled up in my hotel bed and fell asleep to the soothing sounds of Jay Leno. Note to self: Find the genius behind the creation of the GPS and send the biggest bottle of scotch. And then send another one.

Upon entering the bariatric practice Wednesday morning, I finally got the smile I was lacking from the night before. Southern hospitality rang true. And continued right on into grub time. "Black Eyed Pea was ordered in for lunch," the nurse said to me, as if I knew exactly what this was, and as if I should be running from the patient's room straight for the kitchen. "Oh! Right!" is all I could muster. Right....

"What's this?" I ask as I lift the tinfoil top from the takeout package.

"Chicken Fried Steak."

"Oh! Right!"

Right....

But the chicken fried steak was not the best piece of this little biz trip; the only thing that could top such edible satiety? Sunshine. And warm wind. Ohhhhh, that felt so gooooood!!!

Or perhaps practicing adjustable gastric band fills on fake fat slabs. Or charging everything to someone else's credit card. Flight? Paid. Rental car? Nada. Hotel? Zip. Sweeeeeeeet.

But for a girl who is quite independent, occasionally to a fault, this trip was definitely not without apprehension, stress, sweaty palms, and nervous laughter at every "recalculating route" warning from the lovely GPS female voice. However, it appears wrong turns and a grumpy Dollar Car Rental receptionist were the only hitches to this small gig. Of that I can forgive and forget.

But the real burning question is, can those I left behind in the Lone Star state forgive and forget my lunchtime blunder?

Meh, just charge the momentum created from the serious eye rolling to the company's credit card.

----------------------

Next stop?

Cincinnati, Ohio. Coming in June 2009.

Watch for it at a theatre near you.