JustRunJustLiveJustBe

Here we are, two days from the weekend that, in the United States, marks the end of summer. Sure, go ahead and wait until September 21st if you’d like, we’ll all sit by while you pretend it’s not the end. And we’ll secretly laugh at you because everyone knows you’re just living in a fantasy. Truth be told, I’ll live in that fantasy with you a little bit anyway. We’ve still got those Indian Summer days ahead of us out West here, and if you think I’m packing up the flip flops before the first snow, well you don’t really know me at all.

It has been quite the trip, this summer. Months filled with babies getting older, pirates, unforgettable moments of turquoise water and perfect days, friends and fireworks, live music, oh so much music, refusing to let Summer go by too fast, early mornings, calling it quits, sisterly bonding, and realizing that life, no matter my inability to predict, has some really great things in store. And if all that isn’t a reason to take one more week and live it up for all it’s worth, it ought to be.

Tomorrow I’ll be hitting the road one more time for the year. I’m headed through corn country, then up the corn belt (I have totally made up these names and really have no idea what is or is not identified as corn country or the corn belt). All this for, you guessed it, friends. I’m meeting one, and going to do the race in the hometown of another. Hey, we do what we gotta do.

Upon returning, I’ll spend a total of twenty-four hours at home before heading out again, but this time, there will be no race. Remember this little scenario from a few weeks back? Well, a decision was eventually reached. After careful examination of personal schedules, work schedules, flight schedules (and availability) and, well, a little bit of pure fantasy, we decided we’d head to the beach. I know how shocked you are right now, that I would make that decision. I promise, I did not coerce my friend. I can’t help it if I’m really super excellent at travel research.

I will admit, it was not our first choice. We considered New York City (more hustle than we wanted, and I mean that in a good way), New Orleans (flights just did not work- this was a huge disappointment), and the West Coast (but then realized there were some flight restrictions and it made no sense to start in the middle of the country, head East and then turn around and head West). So, when it came down to it, South of the border became the obvious choice.

I’m about to cover more miles than I can count, set foot in approximately seven cities, three airports, several corn fields (how could I not) and several more cantinas. I plan to update in between to the two so as not to confuse corn and tequila but in the meantime, I’ll leave you with some windshield commentary from my last trip.

Happy Labor Day weekend, my fellow Americans. And happy end of Summer/whatever season you may be leaving behind right now to all.

Utah, via Northern Colorado and Wyoming:

After getting through the madness that is North Denver these days, you’re reminded Northern Colorado still has some wide open spaces. And thank God for that.

But as soon as you cross into Wyoming, you’re also reminded that fireworks aren’t legal in Colorado.

Lucky for us, Pyro City is just a drive away.

Once you’re all stocked up on the sparklers, you can head out into the wild blue yonder that is Southern Wyoming. Wind farms, a repaving project and, oh yes, a little red Corvette (look closely, waaaay up ahead) kept me company for hundreds of miles.

Sooner than you think, however, you’ll be near Utah and entering the beautiful Wasatch Mountains. Or at least the sign says so.

Then, if you’re really lucky, you’ll participate in a 178 mile relay with eleven of your closest and sweatiest friends. And it will be beautiful!

And if you’re really, really lucky, the van your team uses is a rental so when you back it into a tree in the middle of the night because you’re driving barefoot and parallel parking, it will not matter.

All too soon, though, you’ll be headed home.

As you drive those hundreds of miles back, you’ll stare out into the wild blue yonder that is southern Wyoming and know that every mile, both driven and run, was totally worth it. Because they always are.

Alright, fine. It has come to this. It has come to another end to another day where I can’t seem to find enough time. I am overwhelmed. It’s these times I feel like I’m not being a good enough… anything (insert the following terms: friend, employee, daughter, sister, runner, dog owner, etc.).

I walked around all day feeling as though I was in a bubble. Several times I had to stop myself to check and see if I was dizzy. Was the room spinning? Was I spinning? My mind feels clogged. Nothing seems to settle it. I hate that feeling.

I think it’s fear. It’s got to be. It’s fear making a short visit and I’ve got to figure out how to entertain it without letting it take over my life. I recently turned down a promotion, you see. Sure, promotions are good and include many good things like more responsibility, better titles and, of course, more money. But after a week of thinking it over, I just couldn’t get my head around the idea that I wanted it. Because I didn’t.

And when people asked why, all I could say is “it just isn’t right.” People do not understand this. They get that ‘does not compute’ look on their faces and stare at me as though I’ve lost my mind. It’s the only answer I have, though. My heart is just not in it. At some point, you come to realizations about what you want for your life. And despite having to pay for school and my ever-persistent beach habit, money is not everything. My heart, however, is. It took me the full week in limbo to become comfortable with saying that.

This decision is helped by school. I’m not going to school to move up in my current line of work. Yes, I could use this education to do so but that’s not my goal. Many people don’t know this. They haven’t asked, but I don’t advertise, either. It’s difficult to express to them that although I may be doing very good work and being a good employee (who gets offered promotions, hello!) that I want more. I am not going to be that person that tells someone that while they may be very happy with their job, well it’s just not good enough for me. So I keep my mouth shut.

All the while, as I maintain my silence and hope and pray that I am making the right decisions, I feel very alone. Yes, I have friends and family that know about my goals and support me but no one is in my head, or my heart. No one really knows this feeling, this need. I know that it is impossible for anyone to completely understand, but it feels very lonely. Lonely is the welcome mat for fear, and fear is coming in. In fact, it’s having its own personal wrestling match with sanity. My sanity.

No, of course I am not going to lose my mind over this. Of course I know it’s the right thing to do and even if things work out much different than I plan (damn good odds there, right?) I still need to follow this road. I would much rather try than go along with something where I’m okay but not fulfilled. I can sleep at night knowing I at least tried. I can do that. It’s just some days, well, it’s really hard to feel like you’re living on nothing but a dream.

“You should have heard it, it was hilarious!”

“So they were shouting the horse’s name?”

“Yes, over and over again!”

“And the horse was called ‘Hoof Hearted?’ ”

“Yes!”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, it was ridiculous. Hoof Hearted! Hoof Hearted! Hoof Hearted! Over and over. In their big hats and Mint Juleps in hand!”

“I can’t believe you were there for that.”

“I couldn’t believe that name.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when rednecks get money.”

“Funny, I was just thinking that’s what would happen if anyone in our family got money.”

“Same thing.”

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Disclaimer- I believe many good things happen when rednecks get money. I think it’s a nice coincidence that most of them turn out to be entertaining.

There were two half-brown bananas sitting on my counter and I didn’t feel like working. I’d just spent the day running, running errands and running after a kid, what I needed to do is clean up after it all. But I was too distracted for that. Something in my head didn’t register that 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon was really close to the end of the weekend. In my mind, I had time to spare. And everyone knows the best thing to do when you have no time for anything is to bake.
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So the two half-brown bananas and the one and only recipe I remember from childhood, and have remembered through out my life, became bread.
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It’s not impressive, really. It’s probably the same recipe you, your family, the neighbor and her family all have used their entire lives, too. Or some slight variation thereof.
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You start with the bananas, of course.

There are also eggs, just the beginning of the arguably cardiac-damaging ingredients. But if you’re me, you have a coworker that raises chickens. Chickens who live free and sing elegant melodies while they lay eggs. Or something like that. And you use these lightly speckled, sing-songy eggs for your bread.

What I love about this recipe, other than the fact that it’s in my head, is that even though it’s baking, it truly is mostly just baking. Combining all the ingredients takes about 10 minutes, the batter stands for about 20 minutes and then, into the pan and into the oven, to be forgotten about for a good 50- 60 minutes. (Note: I am so glad they invented oven timers in this time in history. I would have made an awful 1800’s baker.)

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I love something I can dump into a loaf pan and fifty minutes later, call it bread. But on Sunday, I couldn’t find my loaf pan. Really. Who loses a loaf pan? Well, me, for about five minutes. And in that five minutes, it occurred to me: bundt! I don’t know if I love using it or typing it or saying it more. But bundt, of course!

So after the mixing and the pouring and the scraping and listening to the complaining because there was “barely any batter left in the bowl,” into the oven it went. (And seriously, I have never gotten into the batter-licking thing, so please explain this to me. Maybe it is just the carbohydrate lover in me, but why lick raw batter when you could, theoretically, have more bread in the end?)

Ironically, it turned out there was extra batter. As a side effect of my ability to get this together in ten minutes, apparently, batter flies.

You should have seen her trying to lick it off, once she realized it was there. If getting entertainment out of those that depend on you for life and happiness isn’t your idea of the best fun, well you’d better be the one in charge of keeping me from having children.

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Forty minutes* at 325 would pass, though. The bathroom and the dog would be cleaned. The oven timer would sound. And the bundt would be turned over, revealing banana bread, sans nuts. Some are allergic, you know.

My intention was to bring this to work, because it is always my intention. I need bread made with eggs, sugar and shortening lying around the house like I need the proverbial hole in the head. So I sliced it and packed it up for the office.

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Most of it. Because why else did I run ten miles that morning.

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*Time adjusted for the change in pans.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you there aren’t at least a few go-to cure-alls in this world for a long week.

But I’ll back up a little. I’m still getting used to balancing a new pass time in my life, you see. It’s school, of course. And learning to make room for learning is an interesting transition. I anticipated this, or as much as I could anyway, but what I didn’t know was how much I’d enjoy it. Through all the years I wanted to go back to school, I waited for it to feel right. I resisted the idea of going back for something I “should” do and waited until I figured out what I wanted to do. And now that I’m doing it, I’m into it and it’s great.

The tough part, when you’re making room for the books and the reading and the homework is that nothing else goes away. The dog still needs to be walked, the floor still needs to be cleaned and that project at work, you know, the one that pays? Well, there’s a deadline. Oh, and have I mentioned the half marathon I’m registered for next weekend? No? I haven’t? Well there’s that, too. Which means making time for running. And if you were running as slowly as am right now, you’d know just how much time that’s taking.

All of this sort of came together last week. I was all the sudden pulling the balancing act again and though you know me too well to know this was not a unique situation, I still managed to claim that it sneaked up on me. Sometimes I think that’s why we’re all here, for me to play mind games with myself and you to put me in check with a comment that says hello, liar, YOU DO THIS ALL THE TIME.

Speaking of comments, thanks for all of yours on the ‘butterflies and fireworks’ post. Though I did receive one choice email from Patty, a nineteen-year-old college student from Atlanta, I really appreciated all the insights. You people are really remarkable. (But FYI: Do not ever, ever tell a nineteen-year-old Southern girl there is no such thing as an effortless relationship. She will disagree. And she has seven (seven!) paragraphs to tell you why.) The more I think about it, the more the idea of soul mates and timing really go hand in hand, don’t you think? Several of you commented that you believed people came into our lives, all people, at certain times for certain reasons. I couldn’t agree more. I have friends I’ve met, it seems, at just the right time in my life and for all the right reasons. These people, I have no doubt, are some kind of “soul” person, if you will.

So do you see all this thinking going on? This is the sort of thing adding to the full plate. And yeah, OF COURSE I know we all have this. I’m just saying, it got a little rough last week. By Friday, I was ready for a cold one all the while knowing I had zero energy to stay awake long enough to drink it. I thought this was going to be my cure-all.

But lo, it was not meant to be. Instead, I got a last minute invite from a friend with a spare ticket to a concert. So I cancelled everything I’d planned for the evening (read: decided cleaning the toilet could wait another day) and met up with my friend. For a few minutes I was thinking, gee, does this make me a loser? The fact that I have nothing happening on a Friday night and can just say ‘yes’ to plans at the drop of a hat? I’m now Extra Ticket Girl. Nice. But then the music started and I knew that was definitely not a loser, I was lucky.

And there you have a cure-all. Live music, any live music (well, almost), just makes all my worries and stress go away for a little while. I take a deep breath, look around and for a while, everything is a little lighter.

We may also have done the Footloose dance in the aisle. So I guess that makes two cure-alls.

However…

So I was over at Dawn’s reading her most recent post about “soul mates.” Or, more accurately, belief in them (or not). I started typing and after I’d spit out a good four paragraphs, I decided it was worth it’s own post. Also, Dawn doesn’t need my dissertation on her blog. Well, at least not ANOTHER one. (I have no good reason for all those others, Dawn. Oops?)

Dawn said she’s “never been a big ’soul mate’ person” but wondered what others think. I, of course, had an opinion.

This may come as a surprise but I’m not a huge soul mate person, either. Additionally, I think choosing to initiate a committed relationship is more due to effort on the man’s part than the woman’s*. Okay, that might not have come out right but go with it for a minute. I think, because we are very different in the ways of commitment, that it really is about timing, especially for men.

You know that guy, the one who’d date everyone? He was nice but he’d never commit. He’d have the perfect girl and somehow, some where down the line, he’d find a reason to break up with her. Then, after all that, he’d begin dating a girl and be married within six months? I think it’s largely because HE was ready. My friends and I used to call this the “next girl wins” phenomenon. It wasn’t necessarily because she was his “soul mate,” it was because a) he was ready and b) they were compatible. That’s it.

Now, even typing this, I am a little weary. It all seems very mechanical and not at all romantic. But I think that’s why it’s so much more attributed to men (in general). It’s about logic, not butterflies and fireworks. I know the dudes like the butterflies and fireworks, but I think they see that as more of a given, or a “bonus” if you will. They’d rather know they’re ready and that they’re with someone who they can stand.

So part of me thinks this is encouraging, because what it all comes down to, for me anyway, is that I want to be with someone who wants to be with me. Someone who’s ready and is aware they’re at that point in their life. Call me crazy, but I like the idea that two people can decide to be together and then decide to put in the work it takes to make (and maintain) a good relationship.

Now, as Dawn asked, what do you think? Agree? Disagree?
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*This is assuming, of course, you’re addressing a male-female relationship, which we both were.