Where am I?

Hey everyone!  I just wanted to update you all and let you know I can now be found at agirlcalledryan.com.  I hope you'll visit me over there.  I'm so excited and wanted to thank you all for following my stories here for the past few years (despite my infrequent blogging).

Yay! News!

You guys!  I'm so excited to tell you that I'm moving... again.... to Wordpress!  It's something I've been thinking about for some time now.  It's not that I don't love Blogger - cause I do.  I just feel like I'd like it to be more of an "official" blog - with a web address and everything.  So I just purchased my new, official web address and I'm cooking up a first entry.  Stay tuned - I'll post a link to the new place soon!

Thanksgiving

Photos can capture what my words often cannot.  So much has happened, friends, and so much has continued to change in me.  I'm starting to find my feet in my new home but I know I still have a long way to go.

Plenty of things that I thought I left behind me have managed to follow me despite being so far away from home.  I was lucky enough to have one thing follow me from home - my mother - who just left after coming out to spend Thanksgiving here.  It felt so good to have her here doing all those familiar things that we do on the holidays - cooking, telling stories, more cooking, laughing.  It made me feel like we're not so far away after all.

I know there are memories that reek of home: Tanqueray and tonics, shopping at Target, listening to all-too-familiar music, Christmas Ale (brought by my mom).  I'm embracing those during this magical time of year.

Meantime, I'll leave you with some pictures.  Some of my new home and some of Thanksgiving.  This year I'm so thankful for my family, my friends - old and new and having a handful of new experiences and learning lessons along the way.

Leave.

As I alluded in my previous post, I can now confirm that I am indeed leaving the O-H.  While it was always in the plan, the plan came to me faster than I came to it.  Through a series of incredible opportunities, I get to stay with the company I love in the field that I love.  With that firmly in place, I made the decision to jump. 

In less than a month, I’ll be the big 3-0.  This is truly a fresh start into my third decade of life.  I know it’s a bit early for end-of-the-year introspection but I feel that this year has brought about a myriad of changes for me and in me.  I *found* bits of me that I thought I lost.   I am trying my hand at being really honest in my interactions and transparent in my relationships after learning the hard way; I began embracing things I never thought I’d want and looked for a house (even made offers!) to buy all by myself.  I landed two new jobs in six months, exerted more control of my finances, found a new dependence on God and His timing and found deeper relationships with my parents (all three of them).  I am still learning to let go of toxic elements in my life but I have a good start.  I feel a true peace with where I am and I hope that carries me through turning 30.

With regard to the move… its manifested itself by making me feel lighter.  It’s a metaphorical changing of the seasons in its truest form.  I find that I’m feeling more bittersweet about… well… everything.  My long commute in to work is more pleasant; I’m paying closer attention to the little things like the fog rising off the water, the changing leaves on the trees, the cows in their pasture, people who go to Sheetz at the same time as me in the morning - you get the idea.  I’m taking a mental snap-shot and committing to memory those scenes that were all too familiar a month ago.  Granted, I look like a creeper with a smile on my face for no apparent reason but that’s okay by me. 

This next part is an adventure.  If I may defer to someone with an indisputable ability to describe this - Donald Miller says it beautifully: "And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play.  My hope is your story will be about changing, about something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God.  We get one story, you and I, and one story alone.  God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution.  It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?  ... Leave.  Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit.  It is a beautiful word, isn't it?  So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be.  And you will not be alone.  you have never been alone.  Don't worry.  Everything will still be here when you get back.  It is you who will have changed."

Ohio, I love you

Ohio, my love...

I haven't always known how I felt about you.

I was frivolous with you in my youth - desperately wishing for some place better, more exciting, more exotic.  I didn't bother looking at you for a few years in college when I was busy figuring out my independence.  I've forgotten you on occasion as I've been inside working during your best hours.  You've been with me so long that I started taking advantage of you.  I figured you'd always be here for me; after all, I've crawled all over you, from Cleveland to Columbus to Cincinnati and even Toledo on my way west.  I never gave much thought to your beauty.

Lately, my eyes have been open and I've been looking at you with a bit of a bittersweet feeling in my heart.  I've been enjoying your nature while on the bike trail by my house; I've enjoyed your temperate climate and tendency to always be changing; I enjoy your sunshine and blue skies during those lunch hours when I need a bit of fresh air.  I enjoy that you're the land of my family and that every road is a memory.  I haven't always embraced you but I appreciate you now.  You're better than the justification I've given you prior: "at least we don't have tsunamis/hurricanes/tornadoes."

Here it is: I have a chance for an adventure, Ohio, and it may take me away for a while.  I am beginning to understand that I can keep you in my heart and take you wherever I go.  You will always be my home and I don't have to say it quickly to avoid embarrassment.  I love you, Ohio.  You have so much more to offer the world than just being the misshapen heart of America.  I know that now.

You're beautiful.

Love,

Me.

For Tailey

Today has been a healthy dose of disappointment.

It started with the news that my latest offer on the house was rejected.  Not only was it rejected - it was punted right off the field.  I didn't think it was that laughable an offer.  I know that what's happening to me has happened and is happening to many people.  Friends, you are not alone.  I know many of you have felt my same disappointment and frustration too and it helps to know that I'm not alone in this.

The saddest news of the day is that our little neighborhood pet, Tailey, passed away today.  Our neighbor found him all curled up outside.  Even squirrels have their time.  He was buried by the neighbor's barn with a little stone to mark his spot.  I'm so grateful that our neighbors have come to love little Tailey just as much as we have.  Rest in peace, little Tailey.  We'll miss you from the 227.

The plan is no plan.

So I'm watching 'My First Place' and this young couple is a bit crazy.  I'm hoping I'm not that crazy.  The girl just told her boyfriend that if he doesn't "let" her have this house then he's crushing her dreams.  No pressure.  Good luck, couple.

It gives me perspective on the bad news I received today.  The latest offer was rejected.  This puts me in a choose-you-own-adventure-like situation.  I could go one of many ways: 1.) offer more; 2.) give up and move on to the next; 3.) give up completely and move to France.  Even after I make a decision there are a number of ways I could go: 1b.) stick to my budget; 1c.) realize that I could end up over-paying for the neighborhood; 2b.) look for alternate neighborhoods; 2c.) submit the 'impossible dream' offer on the over-taxed house in Shaker; 3b.) how will I pay my bills?

It's really hard for me to make these decisions for myself.  I have been soliciting the opinions of just about everyone within earshot but I know at the end of the day it's just my decision that matters.  If I'm being honest, I'm afraid someone (anyone) will tell me I made a bad decision.  I know that's inevitable because not everyone will think what I'm doing is a good idea.

Update on the couple: they're having about as much luck as I have been.  The girl just confessed that she's decorated every room in the mold-infested house, had their first child and that there's no other house she wants.  The boy just said he refi'd his student loans and her car to free up more money to make her happy.  Trouble ahead, I'm sure.

Every house is perfect until the next house comes along.  That's something that I've learned in my short four months looking for houses.  It's easy to get emotionally involved but as each disappointment comes along, it makes dealing with the next that much easier.  I'm learning, I'm figuring out what I want (and what I don't) and I'll keep looking.  This already feels less disappointing.

Oh!  Also, since I have more of a 'direction' with blogging I am considering changing the name and getting a new header.  I'm having trouble coming up with something clever.  Stay tuned.

Offer.

I've put an offer in on a home.  It's not my first offer on a home but it's still nervous-making.  This will be the third home I've offered on and by far the one that's needed the most work.  I'm anticipating that someday (hopefully very, very soon) when an offer is accepted and I become a homeowner, that it will be as transcendent as I think it will be.  I'll be a home owner.  A.home.owner.  That's a pretty big deal for a self-made vagabond like me.  It's the most permanent fixture I'll have ever had.  I'm not trying to over-inflate this simple thing that people do every day; I'm just trying to convey to you, dear friend, the depth of my inexperience.

I found myself worrying recently on whether or not it's okay to paint wood, if I should forego my desires for white wood in order to keep the integrity of the home, if when I eventually sell the home if some stranger will wonder 'what was she thinking?!'.  I worry that a fence will close me off too much to the neighbors, if it will make me seem unapproachable.  Those are silly things to worry about (I know) but I find myself thinking about them nonetheless.  I won't even go into detail that I worry about the neighbors' potential food allergies should I bake cookies or a lasagna to introduce myself.

Enough of my neurosis.  I'm preparing for this next endeavor by reading as much as I can, watching as many Rehab Addict-like shows as I can, researching property taxes (I'm basically an expert), crunching numbers, budgeting (something I don't like at.all) and enjoying the last of my super long nails.  I'm hoping for some great news this week.  I've found that a lot of this process is really about hope.

Something new.

Friends.

It's been a while.  After months of radio silence, heartbreak, growth, maturity, etc. - I'm back.  And with some terrifyingly exciting news.  I'm on the hunt... for my own home.  That statement is something I'm still warming to.  You see, friends, I never thought I'd be one to want to own a home; especially all on my own.  It takes a village (to raise a home) and I'm lucky to know people who know people because confession: I've just recently acquired the skill necessary to hang a level picture.

I decided today during a trip to Lowe's that my trifecta of tools would be a power drill, an electric hand sander and a shop vac.  I'm overcome with the notion that there's nothing I can't do armed with those three tools.  The evolution of this idea has taken on many forms.  I've been ambivalent, I've been excited, I've been disappointed, I've been outright heartbroken and then back to ambivalence.  I'm afraid - more than I've ever been - but in the eye of that fear, there's a calm.  I.can.do.this.

Tailey and A Random Confession

 No, these photos are not of my driveway.  Nor are they of my Michigan-fan neighbor's car.  They're of Tailey.  As he's a squirrel, he's too fast for me to get any better shots of him, so we'll have to work with these.  He's the little blackish-brown blurb on the sidewalk.

Allow me to explain.  Tailey is a tail-less squirrel that lives in the neighborhood.  Lucky for me, he hangs out around the house a lot.  When I come home from work, he's out in the yard playing; when I'm watching TV in the back room, I can see him climbing up to the roof.  Everyone that comes over is confused about Tailey because he looks, at first glance, like an overgrown rat (sorry Tailey), or possibly a bunny with its ears down, even still - maybe a tail-less cat (till you see him walking on the power lines).  It's especially cute to see him playing with the other squirrels that still have tails.

Also, more randomly, I want to confess that I don't know what "brown butter" is or how to make it.  I see it in recipes for breads, muffins, scones and I avoid those recipes because I'm afraid of "brown butter".  I guess I could Google it.

honest.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about honesty.  I've been thinking about the reasons, personally, why I haven't been honest; both with myself and others.  I read an article recently in the New York Times by Dan Savage touting the benefits of radical honesty in relationship situations.  While I don't subscribe to all the ideas Dan has in the article, I do find myself aching for that sort of honesty in my relationships.  It's always easier to hide behind the shadow of who you *want* to be than it is to step into the light of who you actually are.  I've always been envious of those people that can embrace the raw honesty of who they really are; those individuals that seem to have it figured out and whose presence seems to exude an attitude of "what you see is what you get". 


I'm in this very awkward place in my 28th year.  It's a sort of transitional limbo where I'm caught between my 20's and 30's: old enough that serious decisions start actually coming up and young enough that I haven't made them yet.  Just like the countless others who've pondered something bigger, I find myself wondering why I'm not in Paris being an English translator, or why I never went and spent my summers in Lake Tahoe waiting tables (despite my being advised to), or why I let myself be ruled by fear when I was younger and hadn't even had enough experience for there to be fear.  These may be your average Saturday/middle of summer/three months till my birthday/fill in the blank musings but they're things that you never know till you KNOW.  Daring to dream bigger - it's the reason parents push their children to do new things, to blaze a new trail; it's the reason for a midlife crisis; it's the reason there are sports cars.  When I think about the reason that I am here today the only answer worthy of my time is "love".  I mean, isn't that the reason we're all where we are?  It's the ONE thing that always remains; the one answer that's always available; the one motivator to end all motivators.   


There are many ancients - thinkers - much more qualified than I am to pose the question "what is love?"  In truth, if you ask a thousand people there's a good chance you'll get a thousand different answers.  Love is so unique and individual.  Love is sometimes a feeling, other times a choice, oftentimes an action.  In our quest to quantify love, it's been a reason for break-ups and make-ups, infidelities and monogamy, babies and family pets, moving across the country or staying in your hometown, tears and joy, laughter and pain - you get the idea.  There have been poems and songs and books written about it's brilliance and despondence.  It's the riskiest of the risky and people take that risk every day, willingly.  Love is probably the most beautiful thing about the human condition.  I can feel it swelling inside of me and can understand why those ancients spent so much time on the idea.  


Over the past few months, I've been learning a very important lesson.  That lesson is honesty in love.  I think about the way I interact with people and those that I love most and it occurs to me that most things are said/done in an effort to keep the peace.  As honorable an attempt as that may seem, what sort of traction is there to be expected when I've not been myself?  I've dressed my lack of honesty (I won't call it "dishonesty" because that implies I was outright lying and that's not true in 90% of cases) in all sorts of pretty dresses.  I've called it my Christianity, I've called it my self-sacrifice, I've called it being 50% of a relationship, I've called it respecting my elders, and I've called it being a good friend.  That list isn't limited - those are just the ones I could think of immediately.  While I'm haunted by golden rule cliches of my youth ("honesty is the best policy"), for some reason it never occurred to me that it was something I was side-stepping.  

Unfortunately, there isn't a moral of the story to be had.  I'm still working on it.  Every day I'm trying to step out of the grey a little more and align myself with black & white.  I realize that there is beauty in the grey and I'm learning to accept that.  I don't think Dan Savage's version of radical honesty is the answer either... I think it's probably somewhere in between.  It's something that takes work and that's where I'll be.


**The photo is of Kevin & Dave and they're wearing my jewelry.  They're honestly divas.  Courtesy of the sister.

Sunday Family Dinner Part II

Last Sunday it was R's turn for the Sunday Family Dinner.  The brother-in-law has a favorite of R's dishes. He calls it "The Fish Dish" and he'd been requesting it for weeks.

The "Fish Dish" was inspired by a dish at Chinato.  We may not execute it as well (obvi cause we're not reducing tomatoes to their perfect, dark red flavor for hours like one Z. Bruell) but it's quite delicious.  It's kind of a mish-mash that only R can put together but the general idea is white beans with chicken stock and white wine simmered down and then he adds a can of crushed/diced tomatoes and a BUNCH of thyme.  It's topped with white fish (turbot is our favorite) and arugula with a lemon/garlic/oil "dressing".  I realize I'm rubbish at writing any sort of recipe but I'm hoping to get better.

Dessert was my idea.  It was inspired by these adorable little 'crisps' we found at our local grocery.  So we made ice cream sandwiches out of them with some Jeni's Honey Vanilla Bean ice cream and raspberry and mint - just to add a little fresh.

I think it was a success.  Not that we're competitive or anything.  :)

In Pictures

Tonight the sister made us a fantastic dinner and dessert.  I've decided to show you in pictures... though the dessert went so quickly that no photos could be taken.  ;)  The star of the show was the risotto stuffed into hollowed out lemons.  A lovely risotto with an even lovelier presentation.  Dessert was mini cheesecakes with a orange zest/sugar topping.  It really set the tone for this week which is going to be my three year anniversary with R.  Many thanks to my wonderful sister for showing me that risotto is nothing to be afraid of.

Where I Am

My life is very busy at the moment.  With R and I living further apart than we have before our week and weekends are spent trying to figure out the best way to avoid extra driving.  In addition to a busy work week, I try to get to the gym as often as I can.  I'm still in one class at school which is required for my major so it demands a bit of attention.  I try to clean up after myself at home: stay on top of laundry and dishes (though I know I could do more).  I know I touched on this a bit in my last blog entry but I wasn't entirely honest about it: my brain space is occupied a lot of the time with "future" related stuff.  I think that I'm a bit consumed with "future" related stuff.  I know I mentioned previously that R helps balance me out - and he really does - so when I was considering what to blog about next, he suggested my struggle with being so future-minded.  Initially I brushed it off because I don't see it as an issue.  I justify my behavior as being "goal oriented" though in all honesty, that's debatable.  After a pretty good lunch time conversation with R, I thought it'd be a good topic to blog about because it's happening in my life at this very moment.   

Let's start with a rough definition of what "future" related stuff (FRS?) is.  It's me basically planning and plotting the future before it happens.  I'm not talking about what to have for dinner here, more like where will I be in the next year or we're talking about moving to Austin so let me pick our apartment out now or let me look at adopt-a-dog websites now so that we know what dog we're going to get when we move to Austin/Portland/Columbus.  I become emotionally invested in these "plans" so that's where some of the bad part of FRS comes in.  I'm excited for the changes in our lives that the 'm' word will bring (marriage, in case I lost you) and unfortunately I've been looking at it as though that's when our life together will begin.  R gently reminded me today that we're writing our story now, we're living our life together now and marriage is going to be a starting point for what comes next but that doesn't mean we need to discount where we are now.  I told you he levels me out.   

I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm not particularly happy in my job.  I know that I'm on the long track of working toward a Nursing degree and it just feels so far away at the moment.  In the course of a typical work day, I silently wish away the hours and then I end up wishing away the weeks, looking toward a time when I'll be doing something fulfilling.  All I'm really doing though is wishing the time away (I won't say "wishing my life away" cause that's a bit melodramatic).  I read somewhere a long time ago that if you can be truly happy where you are then you could be happy anywhere.  And I had a teacher once whose sage words of wisdom were: "wherever you go, there you are."  I guess those two things go hand-in-hand and I understand that if I can be happy where I am in Cleveland, Ohio then I can be happy anywhere.  And it's not that I'm not happy - because I am.  I just end up wishing away the mundane in order to get to the good.  I have to spend a bit more time appreciating the entire picture instead of focusing on only the good parts.  


I know that I'll have to continually work on this.  There's nothing wrong with being "goal oriented" or even hoping for better - I just need to make sure that it's a priority to stop and smell the roses more.  Or to make sure that the ones I love know that I'm fully present in a moment with them.  I'm just going to chill out and love the life I have right where I am.

The Changing of the Seasons

I've definitely taken an "extended" break from blogging.  I really do desire to be more consistent and I won't offer up an excuse as to why I'm not.  All I can say is that school is kicking my butt, I'm working out a lot more than usual and when I'm not with the man, I like to spend my precious time catching up on trash TV.  Reading blogs is still a part of my daily routine but blogging on my own blog - not so much.  That said, the man and I have been thinking of taking a more "collaborative" approach to blogging so 'ryanjanders' may become some as-yet-unnamed blog that combines our writing and photo-taking.  I'm really looking forward to that since it'll be our first official collaboration of sorts.  While we work on a sweet blog name (butterbeans.com was taken) I'll try to keep up here.  
I've been in a sort of awkward transition that accompanies the change in weather.  Some call it "cabin fever".  The symptoms: desperate longing to be doing anything other than what I'm doing.  I look out my windows and the sky is blue and the trees (okay the pine trees) are green and I want to be outside.  However, I know soon enough it's going to be so uncomfortably hot out there that I'll miss the breezier (putting it mildly) days of spring.  I'm trying to stay focused on one day at a time but it gets difficult with the changing of the seasons and the significance of going from winter to spring.  To me, spring always holds such promise.  The gray days give way to brighter skies and sun.  While it's true that I'm not a huge champion of snow, I think that the changing in seasons is really a reminder - a marker, if you will - to look back at what we've accomplished and maybe re-evaluate goals and plans.  I'm a huge planner (have I previously mentioned that?) so by nature I'm always looking for the next thing.  Just like most things that's both good and bad.  It gives me a constant sort of restlessness.  Luckily, R helps balance me so that I'm not forever looking down the road and missing the here and now.  I'm looking forward to the changes that spring has in store.  
Random bits for fun: I actually joined a gym!  It's official!  I've been working with a trainer for about a month now and I'm really enjoying it.  Granted, my post work-out routine now consists of a hot shower and some Icy/Hot but I really am enjoying it.  I'm finding this strength that I never knew I had.  Strength that goes beyond being able to run five miles.  It's gratifying to have the ability to do what the trainer is asking me to do.  It's great to finally PUSH myself (lots of grunting going on when I'm lifting weights and I'm a sweaty mess).  While I know I still have a long way to go and I don't really think I'm down any weight, I'm starting to respect myself and my body and that's invaluable.  

Confession

I love cookbooks.

Not in the traditional way.  Not because I have an insatiable urge to continually try new recipes because, truth be told, unless it's a special occasion I'm pretty much a one-trick pony when it comes to three square meals.  Also not because I want to have a vast array of cookbooks from which to choose to make everything from meatloaf to crème brûlée.

I love cookbooks for a far deeper reason.  My cookbooks are lovingly perched atop my dresser and are the pillar for my mother's beloved blue bowl.  I could think of no home more fitting for the two things that hold such sentimental value to me (the third is my precious Tiffany Somerset ring thanks to R).  I'll take a quick detour for the very brief story of the blue bowl.  It's not much of a story, really.  I think it showed up after my maternal grandmother passed away and it held the fruit in the kitchen.  I'm not sure if it was the color of the shape of the bowl but it's very light blue and very old school.  My mother passed it down to me when I moved out with specific instructions, "do not put this in the dishwasher.  This bowl is older than me, it came from a time before dishwashers."  Since then, I've moved several times and the bowl has always ridden shotgun.

Back to the cookbooks.  My phone is full of photographs of cookbooks that I see in the bookstore and I put them on my Amazon Wish List which has nothing more than cookbooks that I've scouted.  I was thinking today about the origins of my love for cookbooks and I guess it has to be a combination of several things: my love of books in general, my love of beautiful photos and my love of cooking.  As I mentioned, I scout out my cookbooks before purchasing them and I usually don't actually use them for cooking as much as I do the internet... which is kind of sad now that I've typed it.  I enjoy having them around, lining my bookshelves, acting as decor and keepsakes.  My favorite gifts are cookbooks.  Most importantly the ones with hand written notes just inside the front cover wishing me many great meals and/or lots of love.  Not much warms my heart quite like the gift of a thoughtful cookbook.  I don't know many others who are as obsessed occupied with cookbooks as I am, so I always approach gifting cookbooks with trepidation.  Just because I like something doesn't mean that other people will like it, right?

My favorite time spent is in the kitchen and cookbooks symbolize that.  To me, when you invite people in to something you're creating, it's a very intimate time.  I love spending time with R in the kitchen.  I've been lucky enough to find someone who compliments my style: he's adventurous while I'm more by-the-book.  My mother always got the sister and me involved in kitchen time.  We spent countless hours over the island sharing stories about our day, picking with fingers or forks at something we'd created, laughing and sometimes crying.  We continue to congregate in the kitchen whenever the three of us are together and now that the sister has her own place and our family grows, there are more hands and hearts involved.  

Just this week, I was lucky enough to buy my amazing R his first cookbook.  He never really says he *wants* a cookbook, so when he asked me for it, I was so pleased to get it for him.  I wrote a little note just inside the front cover wishing him lots of love.  Hopefully this is just the first in a cookbook collection for him.  It gives me an opportunity to shop for cookbooks for another - for a change.

Happy Blogiversary!!!

One year ago today I posted my first entry on this blog.  Here's to making it to two years!  Thanks for reading - I hope this continues to get better.

Eat This Now

I know the picture doesn't look like much so let me tell you what's on the sandwich that you want to eat now.

First let me tell you about Amy's burgers. I don't eat meat and I don't actively seek out things that taste like "meat" because what I really want is to eat meat. Because I don't. I like variation in my vegetarian diet. I like to eat things that are warm sometimes instead of things that are always cold and/or room temperature. I like to eat things that are filling. And most importantly, I like to eat things that taste GOOD. Amy's burgers are the best all-veggie-all-good-for-you things I've ever eaten. Yes, they're roughly $6.00 for four Texas burgers but they're so worth it. Buy them. Eat them. Love them. If you have taste buds, you will.

Now, back to the picture. R and I took these little taste-a-licious patties to a new level by adding fried egg, melted mozzarella (the real thing, not the shreds), arugula, a spicy honey mustard and tomatoes (I added sriracha to mine) all sandwiched between two crunchy pieces of lavash. Trust me, it's incredible. It's probably what you want to eat.

Do Not Give Up!

Something miraculous happened on Friday, people.

But more on that in a few.

First, I must admit that my rigorous two a days are now non-existant. I have been running consistently for the past (I'm thinking about this...) three to four months. I've been struggling. Mostly because I don't really know how to "push myself," which according to the man and the sister is essential to my running. I've been trying to keep with at least three days a week, two to three miles each outing. I must stress that I struggle with this.

So back to Friday. R & I decided to go for a run with said sister and brother in law. In our little four person running group, I'm the only one that has a hard time going the distance. My brother in law has legs for days and it appears also a bottomless pit of energy. The sister and the man are able to keep one another's pace and run about 8 miles (no big deal, right?!). And - again - I struggle through three. Friday though, Friday was different. Friday I had an attitude that I needed to do better. Friday all the conditions were right. Friday I caught the runner's high early on and rode it the whole way.

The scene: we start at the usual place in the MetroParks, the man (R) and the brother in law (A) take off after the sister who pretty much starts running when we get to the post that declares it mile zero. I walk to warm up. I get my jog on. Then I see the sister loop around and come back for me. I feel like I'm going to slow her down; that she's not going to want to stick with me too long. To my surprise, she sticks with me the entire way. And here's the miraculous part: we ran 5 miles!!!! Yes, that's right, FIVE MILES. I've never done that before. And I ran the entire time except a short cool down walk to the water fountain. Let me share with you what I learned on that first five mile experience:

1. The first mile is ALWAYS the hardest.

2. Just listen to your breathing... in, out, in, out - feed those muscles with oxygen.

3. There's a good chance around mile two that your legs will go numb. Your feet will hurt and you could have a cramp in your side (right around the rib area). The beauty of this is that your legs will become so jelly-like that you won't want to walk... in the name of comfort you'll have to keep running.

4. Having someone there to talk your mind out of what your body's doing is invaluable.

5. It felt GOOD!

Seeing R's smiling face when I made it up the hill at the end was priceless. Knowing that I accomplished something that I've never done and didn't know I could do comes in a close second. I know that without the sister there talking me through it I probably would have struggled through my standard three miles (which is what I did on Saturday). It just goes to show that the body is so much more capable than what the brain will let it do.

What am I going to do with this? Well, I learned that very valuable lesson so I'm going to keep trying to push myself. I have to learn cause I'm going to have to keep doing it. After all, in the wise words of blogger Anne P., never give up. Start running where you are - not where you want to be. And don't stop.

Goal: Run 8 miles by summer's end.

After all.... this is the year of living healthy

Let's do this.

I’m starting ‘two-a-days’ where I run two times in one day. The brainchild behind this is that I can’t run for long periods of time (I’m not too much of a distance girl) and usually I’m sandwiching the exercise portion of my day between work and class which doesn’t allow for much time anyway. There are a few reasons I’ve decided there’s no choice in the matter of stepping it up.

Reason number one is that I made a commitment to myself that this would be my year of living healthy. I cannot go into my thirties still struggling with my health management. It’s bad enough I’ve spent most of my twenties trying to get a handle on it. Reason number two is that my sister (who formerly termed the elliptical exercises ‘running’ and has a penchant for finer dining establishments like ‘Waffle House’ and ‘Bob Evans’) is losing a crap-ton of weight. She’s working out all the time and got a juicer and was doing a modified cleanse. I know – who is this girl?! It’s not just a competitive thing (okay, maybe some of it is) but I realized that if she can do it, I can do it. I cannot and will not be left in the dust on this, especially when I’m the one always preaching about a healthy lifestyle and watching my cholesterol and watching fats and eating unprocessed foods.

I have to identify the areas of improvement with my food consumption. And while I’m not a huge fan of ‘diets’ (they pretty much set you up for failure either during or after) I have to outline a few rules. I have to limit my bread intake. At least until I start losing weight. Since I don’t eat meat, for the last three years I’ve basically just taken the meat portion off my plate which leaves me eating a lot of pastas and breads to feel ‘full’. I need to cook more. That’s the plan for the summer when I’m not getting up at five a.m. (okay – with the snoozes more like five forty-five), going to work, going running, going to class and going to bed. I’ll have more ‘me’ time and I’m going to use that to my advantage. I just want to be healthy and since I haven’t really devoted the time to it, it’s not a surprise that I’m here, yet again, starting over. I know that R wants to see it not just hear about it. And to be honest, I’d like to see me carry out some action plan and actually accomplish this goal.

Confession: I’m a bit of a quitter. As ugly as that is to say and as much as I hate that about myself, it’s true. That said, it’s something I have to change about myself. When I’m tired of being a brunette I change my hair color, do I not? Shouldn’t the same be true for how I feel about my body? More importantly, I don't want to be a quitter on things that really matter to me. I have always wanted to be a runner. I've always wanted to be able to put on my running shoes and join the likes of those that hit the street before everyone else wakes up and enjoys the air and that alone time. It's almost like a moving meditation. It's something that I want very badly yet can never muster up the determination to push myself for. That has to change.

P.S. I have some fun food blogs that I have to catch up on… coming soon.