When I was younger, I always thought the phrase “If you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes” was only a Colorado phrase. After all, it is true here. Storms blow in and out in a matter of minutes, you can wake up to snow and then drive home later with your windows down. Parka in the morning, shorts in the afternoon.

It was only as I got older and started listening to what others said (read: started paying attention to someone other than myself) about where they lived that I realized this phrase counts for pretty much everywhere. While the Northeast is known for a consistently snowy winter, and the South is known for a consistently humid summer, and the Northwest for it’s consistent… uhhh? What? Clouds? Someone in each of those places will promise you that the weather is not something on which you can rely. One moment you’re blinking in the sun, the next you’re running for cover from the pouring rain.

As every place does have it’s “normal” weather patterns, I can remember always being thankful to live in Colorado and listing the bad-tempered weather as a reason why. Now, I know better. And really, it seems to be less about weather anymore, anyway. This makes my more logical—and perhaps reaching— adult mind come to the conclusion that if I’ve been waiting five minutes here, I could wait five minutes anywhere.

For the next few days, in fact, I’m going to be waiting five minutes in a place something like 3,000 miles from Colorado. And guess what? It’s true there, too. Five minutes, ten minutes… whatever. And maybe you don’t really need to run from the rain anyway, because where I’m going you really have no place to be.

So I’d like to pose a question (or two): What do you love about where you live? AND, do you think you could love somewhere else just as much?

I’m excited to see the answers to this. I’d like to believe I could make a life anywhere, regardless of surroundings, but I don’t know. (Though I would be lying if I said it wouldn’t always be a little about the weather.)

My mother and I went out for ice cream yesterday.

“This is going to undo everything I’ve done. Ugh. This is so not the time for me to… Hello? Are you listening?”

“What? Yes. Of course I’m listening.”

“No you’re not. Ha! You’re looking at that guy over there.”

“What? I am not.”

“Yes, yes you are. I just caught my mother checking out a man.”

“Whatever. You did not.”

“Mom, he’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

“There is no age limit on looking.”

“Oh, so you’re looking at younger men now? Oh, wow. My mother is a cougar.”

“What?! What is a cougar?”

“A cougar is you. You are looking at men in my age group.”

“Well, first, I am not. Second, I could if I wanted to.”

“Oh my god. My mother is a cougar. And confident about it. I’m going to need more ice cream. My mother is a cougar and I’m eating ice cream to relieve the stress. This is what my life has come to.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

Thanks, one and all, for your comments and emails on the redesign. I appreciate it very much. The messages saying it was an “escape” or that it made you feel like you were getting away are a HUGE compliment.

I hope to have a couple other features up and going soon and will try to get that Internet Explorer issue fixed, as well.

Again, Delicious Design Studio is doing such a great job with this and, let me tell you, has a rapidly-filling schedule. So get on over there if you wanna make your blog prettier.

Thanks, everyone!

If you’re seeing this before, say, noon on Thursday (or, now, after) it’s because two people might be pretty tired. One because she worked really hard on this redesign, and the other because she stayed up late relentlessly sending 90 emails to the first person.

There is still a little tweaking to go (like if you’re using a certain version of Internet Explorer, things may not look right to you), but let me be the first (and only?) person to say welcome to JustRunJustLiveJustBe’s new look.

Thanks so much to Delicious Design Studio not only for working very hard on this, but for being so patient with a person who has far too many questions for her own good (me— as if there was a question there).

But more on all that coming soon.

For now, some of us are just pretending we’re here:

I told you it was coming, didn’t I?

What do you think? Feedback welcome!

(And for those of you who never leave comments but are all over the emails, it’s justrunjustlivejustbe[at]gmail[dot]com.)

Two nights ago, a friend of mine invited me to boot camp. Normally, if you join a boot camp, it is something you have to sign up for, pay for, and commit to. But, her cousin is the instructor so I was able to join in for a session.

Oh. My.

Boot camp is hard, y’all. And I know those of you already experienced in this arena know this. But I did not. I with my measly running, bike riding, and twice-a-week weight lifting was not familiar with getting my but kicked by someone I used to think was a nice person. I will say it right now: I’d rather run 30 miles than have that man make me do one more push up.

In college I had a trainer I called Sarge. He was ex-military and it showed. He got me into better shape than I ever thought possible. Compared to my friend’s cousin, Sarge was a teddy bear. A teddy bear who would let me stop to catch my breath once in a while.

Well it turns out Cousin Tony, we’ll call him, got his boot camp training as a drill instructor in the Marine Corps. I think that’s a lie, though, because I’m pretty sure no one on this side of hell could have taught Tony to be so cruel.

After 120 minutes of Tony handing my butt to me on a platter, we were finally finished. I really have a great amount of respect for this kind of work out now. Shocking even myself, I thanked Tony for allowing me to join the class for one night. “You should come back,” he said. “You can thank me some more.” Yeah, Tony, we’ll see. Right now my abs are going to be thanking you until next Thursday.

Spending time in different environments lately has contiued to fuel that desire for change that I’ve talked so much about lately.  While I’m happy over all, it’s getting harder and harder to get excited about the same little things.  Part of this is my fault.  I’ve spoiled myself over the years with changing jobs or homes or the people around me at intervals timed just right enough so that nothing starts to feel old, or at least not all at once.

It’s a little sad, really.  Sometimes I feel like I should be able to enjoy something for longer than I do.  On the other hand, I always rationalize these decisions by telling myself that if I weren’t meant to change, to do more, that I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have that desire inside me to… go.  But I do.  And it’s getting really hard to deal with, which is a tough thing to say without sounding ungrateful. 

On top of that, I also start to question myself. I start to wonder if I’ve traveled down the wrong path completely.  Again, the rationale is that of course we are not ultimately on the wrong path, but seeing that day to day has become a little cloudy for me. 

What it often comes down to lately is, I sit at a desk all day.  Well, that’s not true, sometimes I sit at tables in conference rooms.  I don’t really mind this.  I am pretty good at the work I do while sitting in those chairs and I’m blessed to work with good people who also do good work.  There are just days when it doesn’t feel like enough.  I like to think that it’s because of balance that I start to blame the day job.  I feel like that’s what takes the blame when I have no other distractions.

Distractions.  That’s it.

I guess I need to be distracted.  Constantly.  Which also sounds ungrateful and a little bratty.  So if I don’t have something like school or training or, heh, a person to think about, I start to question where I really am.  And then I start to question everything else.

I’m not sure where I was headed with this.  It’s possible the answer is nowhere. I need some kind of map, I need to be pointed in the right direction. I guess I just needed to work through that a little and put all of those thoughts somewhere.  Because sometimes, if I don’t work through it, I start to feel like I’m going through all of this on my own, with no direction at all.

Woman does, however, lock keys in car and therefore goes without camera for daylight hours.

BUT! BUT! I do have photos coming from a friend! And when I receive them and take a few minutes to photoshop the looks of terror off the faces of everyone (including myself) I promise they’ll be right here on this site.

Not only did the tractor driving go well, but the rest of the weekend was pretty Western also. Which isn’t surprising, I guess, since I do live here.

For example, a few pictures from the rodeo:

Here’s some news: Horses are fast. And I guess my motion photography needs work. (Noted.)

And here’s what happened on Saturday, Tractor Day:

- Begin drive out to friend’s ranch.

- Enjoy view of miles and miles of beautiful, rolling hills of eastern Colorado.

- Turn off paved road, drive more miles down dirt road.

- Have no problem on dirt road. Enjoy kicking up dust. Consider self “country girl.”

- Arrive in friend’s driveway.

- Leave everything in car, including keys. After all, this is the country. Keys are always left in the car. Have always done this with no problem. Is normal. I know this. Am “country girl.”

- Visit with friends.

- Get first tractor lesson. Friend warns of dangers of “7,000 pounds of steel in your control.” Try not to cry.

- Tractor driving goes shockingly well (more in upcoming post). None dead or wounded. Did not throw up or wet pants.

- Ride horses. Ride horses for a long time. Love it.

- Then haul kids around on horses for a long time. Kids in shorts and Crocs. Silly “city kids.”

- Time for tractor again. And hay ride for silly “city kids.”

- Go to car to get camera. Must have photographic evidence.

- Pull on door handle.

- Does not open.

- Continuing pulling as if not familiar with this phenomenon of LOCKED CAR DOOR!

- Check all handles. Proceed to use select language. Not lady-like. Am “country boy.”

- Tell friend bad news. “Your car locks automatically after thirty minutes,” says friend. “Ours does that too.”

- Will drive tractor anyway. Cannot disappoint “city kids.”

- Have friend with beautiful Canon D-SLR [that I covet] take pictures.

- Drive Farmall tractor in many circles on pasture, towing children and hay behind.

- Still none dead or wounded. Possible mild whiplash.

- Call Triple A.

- Drink a beer.

- Listen to jokes all night about one’s ability to have very blonde hair and very red neck. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I should have the photos in the next day or two— just in time for when I begin to have feeling in my butt again.