There’s nothing easy about running sixteen miles. Except for seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and, well, all that follow. This particular sixteen had a few other tricks up it’s sleeve, such as 28 degrees with wind and an I’m-going-to-pick-you-up-at-ten-thirty-be-ready call from my mother. Translation: wear layers and hurry.

Miles one through ten passed like any other. I got into some music, enjoyed the rising sun and remembered how the benefit of cold weather is that you have to wear gloves and therefore, have built-in snot and sweat wipers. How convenient. Then, mile eleven. I started to feel the cold. My legs started to feel tired. Really, really tired. I stopped to walk a little, that helped some. Same thing in mile twelve, and thirteen. Walked twice in mile fourteen, once in mile fifteen and the majority of mile sixteen. All in all, the run took about twenty minutes longer than I’d hoped. But, the sixteen miles were covered. I’m not entirely sure how to look at it. Not a complete failure, but not a complete success. Something in between, something unsure.

Somewhere in this uncertain run, I had a chance to think about today, this last day of twenty-six. I thought of the seasons, the travel, the work, the friends; all of it. It was a year of saying goodbye at times, and welcoming the new. It was a year of many firsts, and a few lasts. A year of learning and change and yet, a year of becoming better at being me; I did twenty-six pretty well, I think. Birthdays are so unlike long runs because they don’t get harder. I suppose, though, they’re just as beneficial in that each time one comes around, you’re a little more prepared for what lies ahead.

I never really put much stock into those ‘getting older’ phrases that seem to surround us. I never thought much about the way we (hopefully) collect knowledge as we get older. Thankfully, wisdom is forgiving and allows you to posses it, even in doubt. It really does get better all the time. Or maybe that feeling is age, I don’t know. The best thing is, I don’t have to. That’s what I really feel. The unknown is allowed now and it’s not as scary as it once seemed.

I’m not sure what twenty-seven will bring. Sure, I’d like it to include good times, success, family and friends; some new, some old, some running and some beaches. Those are all things I’d like but really, I know I’ll get what I need. It may not be a complete success or a complete failure, but appropriately, it will land somewhere in between.

Running has taught me many things. First, and foremost, plan ahead. You never know what the weather, your stomach or your mind is going to do until you’re actually out there in the middle of it all. You need to be ready.

That said, it’s also taught me to change plans. I’ve learned how to be okay with six miles instead of ten or twelve instead of four. I listen to my body now. Mostly. The knee injury that plagued me over the summer is now gone (hear that? That’s the sound of me knocking on wood.) and I can run again. Obviously, I’m thankful. I’m not shattering any land speed records here, I’m just happy running isn’t trying to break up with me anymore. But there’s still a little sting there.

On Sunday, October 22, 2006, I was supposed to run the Chicago Marathon for the first time. It was a long, hard decision to give this one up. I wanted it badly, but my knee had other plans. Since there were days in the Just Run Knee Injury ‘06 saga in which I couldn’t even walk without pain, I know it was the right decision. It was safe, and logical, and smart. But it still bums me out.

On Sunday, I’ll be running sixteen miles. Yes, I know, nothing to scoff at. But it’s not a marathon, it’s not in Chicago and I’m not going to wake up on Monday, October 23, 2006 with the ability to say “I just ran 26 miles on the last day I was 26.” And that sort of sucks. Because that was the plan, and also some of the motivation.

But I know I have a choice on Sunday, still. I know that I can wake up in the morning, go about my day, run sixteen miles and feel just as good about Monday. And 27.

Afterall, it was only a couple months ago when I could do nothing at all.

___________________________________

Good luck to all of you running on Sunday. I hope, pray, and cross fingers that it’s a great race for you, all 26.2 of it.

NOTE: This story did not happen in my current office!

There’s a story, of a wicked lady, who worked in a land of very lovely cubes.

The wicked lady, we’ll call her Brenda, is generally a bad fit amongst all the other residents of Cubeland. Brenda’s motto is Talk All the Time, Even When It’s Not Appropriate. Due to this motto, Brenda’s neighbors, even those on the other side of the building, know all her business.

Years ago, Brenda married a well-to-do man, we’ll call him Chuck, who owned a car dealership. He built Brenda a beautiful home, bought her beautiful clothing and jewelry and even paid her credit card bill without ever actually looking at it. He should have looked at the bill. A mere three months after swearing to love and honor him forever, Brenda was unfaithful to her husband and managed to charge dinners, hotel rooms and even an airline ticket to her credit card for three more months without Chuck ever noticing.

Well, Chuck was finally tipped off when Brenda claimed to be going on a “business trip” and while Brenda was on the “trip” Chuck ran into several of her coworkers at lunch.

“Do you all miss Brenda,” he innocently asked?

“Yes, she must be having fun with her sister,” they responded.

“Sister?”

Chuck, being bright but not altogether sharp, finally caught on.

Brenda and Chuck subsequently divorced. About a year later, after she was certain anyone on her floor could recite her dramatic story of Love Gone Wrong from memory, Brenda started something new. Donnie, we’ll call this one, was her newest “victim.” (They aren’t necessarily victims as they have to know they’re making bad decisions on some level, but you can’t help but feel bad for a guy who makes a bad decision but never dreams that it would be broadcast to the entire world- but that’s Brenda.) Donnie, also a local business owner, apparently became smitten with Brenda very early on. He bought her gifts, sent her flowers and even called her during the day just to say he was thinking of her. Could it be, a true love story? A story of a changed woman? Maybe.

Except there was this one thing about Donnie that made this impossible. He was married. There is no way Brenda and Donnie’s love could be the true, wonderful, happily-ever-after thing she made it out to be, because Donnie already had a wife. “Oh, that’s just wrong,” you say. That’s wrong? What about this:

…

…

wait for it…

The wife? The woman to whom Donnie was married? His supposed happily-ever-after? Yeah, her. Well, she worked with Brenda.

That’s right, the wife, let’s call her Kristy, was a fellow resident of Cubeland. Kristy was smart, put together, kind and fun. And obviously, not privy to a huge part of her husband’s life. Until one day, Brenda, the Queen of Brazen, brought in a memento for her desk. A photo of her new boyfriend. The boyfriend she’d openly admitted was married but was “planning on leaving his wife.”

Well, Donnie never got around to actually doing that. Luckily, in saving herself, her children and her reputation of actually possessing a brain, Kristy beat him to it. Way to go, Kristy. Someone had to have a brain in this story eventually.

So now, Kristy works in another department and is happily married to a man she can trust. Chuck, also remarried, has two kids and a wife who stays home. Brenda has recently married Donnie and, as she tells it, -because you knew she would- a fairly detailed prenuptual agreement will accompany them on their journey of love. Fairytale endings are just the best, you know?

And you thought IT people were boring.

As autumn is all too soon coming to an end, I’m reminded of how I’ve always loved it. It makes me happy and it’s not just because my birthday is this month. It’s just a lovely time to embrace change.

It’s also a lovely time to look back on Summer. On all the summers, really. The good times that were had, the warmth and the freedom. If there’s one thing that I’ve always been true to, it’s my love of summer.

And it seems we really are always true to ourselves. Yes, we can change but at the same time, what we honestly feel at the core of who we are never really does.

Winter is coming, and I’m not happy about it.

Over a month ago, I drove from Seattle to Vancouver (and back). Of course, I took pictures. So many of you already know what this looks like (which I find very cool) but for those that don’t, my point of view:

Seattle, just beyond the trees.

Some water alongside the road.

I don’t know where this is, exactly.

Under a bridge.

Almost to the border.

Canada, here I come.

Obligatory rearview shot.

Welcome to Surrey.
Why, thank you.

One of many bridges in and around Vancouver.

And there you have it.

The Pacific Northwest was very dry around that time. Have you all had more rain/snow since? Still, the drive was beautiful. I recommend it and really, what more reason do you need? Ha.

Part of me feels like I’ve had enough of this road thing for a while. Next time I go, I want to go and stay put long enough to forget what day it is. Maybe next year.

Parts 1-4, if you must.

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

(Not to be confused with blogger JustACoolCat who is also so vain, but much more stylish than I.)

This time last year, I had to renew my driver’s license. The one I held before was the best I.D. photo I’d ever had. It was taken the day I turned twenty-one and you could see the excitement all over that photo. I don’t know what key to the future I thought I was getting that day, but the pay off was a decent photo on my I.D., so very hard to come by.

When I renewed my license last year, the woman at the counter was mean. She screeched out “next!” and the flashbulb was going off before I even had warning. I knew it was going to be bad and when my new license arrived in the mail a couple weeks later, well, bad would be putting it kindly. I had a half smile, half open eyes and, quite possibly, seven chins. Awful. I mean, if I were a missing person and anyone attempted to look for me using this identification photo, they would be in search of a 40 year old woman on drugs toting around a quart of Jim Beam.

So I carried this I.D. for the last year and each and every time I’ve had to hand it to someone, I’ve cringed. I’ve thought, over and over, about excuses I could use to get a new one. Could I “lose” it? No, they store the photo. Could I move? No, they just make you put a sticker with your new address on the back. Maybe I should change my name? As if I don’t have enough “funny stories” on dates these days. The other day, it hit me. I no longer have a vision restriction! The information on my license is incorrect! Guess I need a new one!

So yesterday, I hoofed it over to the D.M.V. and stood in a remarkably short line. When I got to the counter, I told the woman (a much nicer one) my situation. “Oh,” she said, “all you need to do is have your doctor put a sticker on the back saying you’re no longer visually impaired. Or, you can pay $15 and renew it.”

Best $15 I’ve ever spent.