Writing is an odd activity. Especially for me. Most the time when I write, I know exactly what I’m going to say. That’s because the writing I’m paid to do comes from somewhere else in my mind than the writing I do here. The writing I’m paid to do comes from logical facts, ideas and conclusions whereas I’d be hard-pressed to find a lot of logic in a lot of what I’ve written here.

So, embracing that observation, here’s a very illogical list of things about me:

1. I like to eat popcorn for dinner. But it has to be made on the stove, not in the microwave.

2. I played hockey as a kid and loved it.

3. I know how to play poker, but not well.

4. I like Southern food enough to wrestle someone twice my size for a good piece of chicken.

5. When I’m in the South, I insist on drinking sweet tea as if it’s more vital to life than air.

6. I love driving on the highway.

7. City driving makes me feel out of place.

8. One day I’d like to see the country from one of these.

9. Even when I write here, I need to write in a real pen-and-paper journal almost every day.

10. My dog gets to sleep on the bed on cold nights.

11. I want to learn to play the piano (”Heart and Soul” and “Jingle Bells” don’t count).

12. I can’t relax on the weekend until the house is clean.

13. I’m training for a marathon this year.

14. I want more money to travel.

15. I have a “techie” job and though I never thought it would be possible, I love it.

We could have made it. We could have worked around schedules, personalities and goals.

We could have spent time traveling separately, grocery shopping together and leading independent, yet codependent, lives. And it would have worked, for a while.

For a while I could have looked at him lovingly, admired his accomplishments and felt his arms around me. For a while he could have been my cheerleader, my date, and my friend. He would have cooked, I would have cleaned. He and I could have been ‘we’, for a while.

The while never came. I never saw it’s face or heard a knock at the door. Or, more than likely, I did see and hear it but I knew I shouldn’t answer. I knew in my heart that it had the wrong door, the wrong people.

So, for a while we were friends. We spent time, money and conversation. But never anything more. Sometimes, it sucked. I wanted/needed something to the point that I wanted to invite it in, even if just for a while. There were days when all I saw was the good, the right. But those days never stayed long enough to deny the wrong and eventually, I had to let it go. True, we each had an empty space but his was not my size, nor was mine his.

It took a while for me to realize but if something’s not right, it’s just not right. Even for a while.

It’s hard to believe trails looked like this just a few short months ago. Now, if I were to run outiside, my snot would freeze.

Valentine’s Day is sweet. It reminds people about love. The Hallmarky part of the day gets on my nerves, but other than that, it’s not really a terrible idea to celebrate.

I sort of like that there’s a concentration on love, in general. I think if we thought about love and what it really meant to us more often, things could be a little sweeter all the time.

It’s annoying that there’s aisle after aisle filled with red and pink in the grocery store. It’s very sweet when the elderly lady next to me asks me to read the ingredients off a box of chocolates because her husband of fifty-seven years has allergies.

It’s overdone when someone sends three dozen balloons to a girl in my office when they’ve only been dating a week. It’s sweet when the wife of another coworker finds a way to sneak in the building the night before and leave her husband’s favorite cupcakes on his desk.

It’s ridiculous to see the commercials imploring men to buy expensive “gifts of love” in the form of diamonds. It’s sweet when I hear the guy in the next cube call his young daughters and tell them they’re his Valentines.

A lot of people talk/post about how they hate the day. They don’t like that it’s couple-focused and they just want to go to sleep for the day and wake up when it’s over. I can understand that. If you let it, days like this can bring up some bad feelings. Heartbreak can haunt you. Cards, flowers, etc. can overwhelm a person, if that’s what it’s about for you. It’s just not for me, though. It’s just about love, in any form. And that is pretty sweet when you think about it.

In honor of the mother-in-lawless everywhere, I’m adopting one for the weekend.

My sister’s baby shower is this weekend and her mother-in-law flies in to join us today. She’ll be staying at my house. We’ve only met once so there’s no telling what the weekend has in store. All I know for sure is that I went home last night, spent hours cleaning the house, stocking the pantry and fridge, flipping mattresses and washing the dog to insure a good impression on a mother-in-law that isn’t even mine.

I’m wondering how I’ll entertain her- the baby shower will last three hours, what are we going to do for the other 69 hours of these three days?

I’m wondering if I have the right food, the right coffee, the right clothes… Why?

I’m anticipating like crazy- as if the impression I make even matters to her.

Is this the universe’s way of giving me practice for the future or is it just a cruel and unusual way of showing me the “other” side of marriage [and the new family you take on]?

I hoping, though, that it’s just fun. I’m hoping that it’s encouraging. I’m hoping that I will see all the joys and benefits of “family expansion.” I’m hoping that my sister knows just how much she owes me.

Lately, my running has been sub-par. It’s been sluggish, long, slow, difficult, boring and dull. Every step is a have-to instead of a want-to effort and my mind and body seem to be working together to keep it that way. I try to get excited to run only to get two or three miles in and feel like crap.

I’m not sure why this is happening. I don’t know whether to blame it on stress, work (which are really the same thing) the weather or just life. They say running ebbs and flows, especially in the winter, but I’ve never felt this bad. I haven’t gained weight, I have no injuries, I’m not more tired than normal so really there’s no excuse to be such a slug when I walk out the door or get on the treadmill.

And, as an added bonus, the running outdoors that I normally love is the hardest part. The trails, paths and sidewalks that used to pass under my feet so efficiently now seem like one endless hill. This has forced me indoors and onto the treadmill. Since the treadmill in my house is not an option (too few steps between the machine and the couch) I’m at the gym every other night begging 4 miles from my body and trying to distract myself with whatever’s on CNN. Or, like last night, I try to distract myself by watching people brave criticism and ridicule due to an extremely poor display of “talent”. American Idol and the treadmill. Previously that would have been the makings of a nightmare. Now, it’s just a means to get by.

What’s worse still is I have a 5 mile race on Saturday. How am I supposed to run 5 miles at a respectable pace when I can’t talk my body into four 10-minute miles on the treadmill? Really. Is it a break I need? I took a pretty long break after last season ended so I can’t imagine that’s it. But maybe it is. It would sure have been nice to know this before I registered for the 7 races I plan on running this year. Maybe I need a new plan.

Or, maybe I’ll snap out of it. The days will start getting longer, the weather warmer and the trails busier. Maybe I’ll find some new trails and see some new sights. Maybe I’ll get a new pair of shoes and listen to some good music and forget all about this mess. Then, I can get off this “treadmill” and feel like a runner again.

(Title stolen from a lyric in a song that has nothing to do with running, but maybe something to do with treadmills.)

There never were two more devoted sisters.

No, they don’t walk alike, talk alike or chase the same men. Nonetheless, there were never two more devoted. So what if it took us twenty-one years to figure it out, it’s worth it. The profound respect and acceptance we now have for one another is the product of those years and it appears to have arrived at just the right time.

My sister is hard to describe. I mean, how do you describe someone that’s such an integral part of your life that every time you say goodbye you feel like you’re losing part of yourself? How do you describe someone that makes you smile on your darkest day and knows how to ruin your good mood with one look? How do you describe someone who has taught you more than she’ll ever know?

She’s cute. Who am I kidding, she’s gorgeous. Always has been. She’s 5′5″, dark hair, bright smile and has never had to diet or work out in her life. She looks great in whatever she wears, even at six months pregnant. She cooks like she’s been in the kitchen for 30 years, manages finances like a pro and has a sense of humor that will kill you. Every time. It’s truly one of the most unique expereinces in life to watch your little sister- the one you taught to ride her bike- tell a joke about makin’ whoopee.

Nonetheless, I find myself wondering if life can always be this way. I wonder what’s destined for our relationship. Will we always be able to share the way we do now? Will we always be the first to call the other with big news? Will we see geographical distance as a burden rather than an opportunity? The only thing I’m really certain about is the challenges to come. Jobs, marriage, children, parents. We have no way of knowing where we’ll be a year from now. Her life takes her to far off places, my priorities change rapidly. We don’t have the freedom of consistency. We’ll have to try harder as the years pass and the miles between us grow.

I have faith we will try. We’ve been through so many challenges together, 1,900 miles is nothing in comparison. She will be there for me. I will be there for her. I know we are devoted that much, for sure.