We Can Learn to Love Again

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I’ve started this post quite a few times over the last week, but I’m still tongue-tied. Still hurting for people I’ve never met.

There are so many blog posts out there where people so very eloquently express, moreso than I could, just what the running community is feeling. This is OUR sport, and how DARE someone mess with that.

Friday was incredibly rough for me. It’s tough to face down the reality that a simple matter of geography could very easily have changed “them” to “us.” I’d have been at that race had I lived in Boston. GCB would have been called in to deal with that, had we lived in Boston.

That would have been us, had we lived in Boston.

All I could do Friday when I got home was cry into his shirt. It’s another jolt, forcing me to stare straight into the face of mortality, and the mostly unspoken and truly terrifying possibility of him not coming home to me.

And then? I feel overwhelmingly guilty. Guilty that I’m looking at this selfishly. Guilty that I’m not taking advantage of the fact that my city isn’t being attacked, that my legs are still there, that I can run whenever I want, yet I’m not doing so.

Last year in the midst of all the “I hate running yet I’m still training for junk” feelings, I recommitted to running more times than I can count. Promises to myself that I would dedicate my time, my energy, and my focus to getting better, being healthier, getting READY for those races ahead of me.

And look how well that worked out.

I feel like this time is different. This time I’m committing to remembering why I love this. To running for those who can’t. To doing this because I WANT to, because I can. To teaching myself, learning to love this again.

Training for Tough Mudder starts this week. There is no choice but to train for this one. It will not be possible to walk the last third because I didn’t train hard enough.

But I won’t take this for granted. I get to do this because I can, because I love it.

Because no one will keep runners from running.

Boston strong.

Happy

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I am happy.

So happy that sometimes it feels unfair, like I’m taking more than my share. I recognize this is flawed logic, but still.

Reasons that I’m happy!

  • Just spent the most PERFECT weekend with GCB. Pub crawl Saturday, quiet Sunday, anniversary and Cardinals home opener Monday, and waffles and turning in the keys to my old apartment Tuesday. I don’t know that I can fully express JUST how good it feels to be done, DONE, with the old place. When I moved in, I was finally back to living alone (which I truly enjoy). But this, the living with the boyfriend thing, is SO MUCH BETTER than living alone. That and the perfect weather on Monday, baseball being back, recreating our first date (Ted Drewes!!), and just relaxing made all four days out of work so worth it. Going back to work today was rough. Ha.
  • This weekend my lovely friend Josey, along with her awesome husband and daughter, are coming to St Louis! Baseball, good friends, beers. What more could you ask for?
  • NEXT weekend, my roommate from my freshman year of college, Laura, and her husband are coming in for the Tap’n’Run. That weekend will be HOCKEY, good friends, and beers. And running.
  • And then there are the plans. OH the plans! Trips to the lake and to Chicago; my sister, brother-in-law, and adorable nephew coming to Missouri in July; going to visit family in Baltimore in May; concerts, baseball games, SUMMER, a new nephew!!!
  • On top of that (there’s more?!). The running. And GCB running WITH me! Tough Mudder in September, then a month later a Halloween half marathon. I am SO excited to have him want to share in these type moments with me. I really hit the jackpot finding him.

Things are just so, SO good right now. I feel lucky every single day.

Perma-grin, right over here.

Run, Baby, Run

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This morning I woke up to GCB’s alarm. This in and of itself isn’t so odd, but what is odd is that today was the GO! St Louis marathon.

That I didn’t run.

After he left for work, I got out of bed, walked across the living room, and opened the blinds. I stood there watching hundreds of people running in a race that just last year I was singing and chanting and in some points skipping my way through.

It’s the first half marathon in St Louis that I’ve missed since October. Of 2011.

The feeling was bittersweet.

You see, running and I have had a very tumultuous relationship for the past little while. Remember last August? I do. I HATED running at that point. And I hated that I hated it so much.

I’ve been a runner for the better part of my life. Hating it felt odd, alien.

A couple weeks ago I set out to take a walk through Forest Park. I haven’t really done a whole lot in the way of physical activity since the marathon, and it was one of the (rare) beautiful days we had earlier this “spring.” Once I got out there I realized I couldn’t just walk. I was tingling with the anticipation I normally got before a run I wanted to do.

WANTING to run again is one of the most beautiful feelings.

So I did what I normally do, turned on some music and went to set my watch timer, and was stopped dead in my tracks.

My watch still carries my marathon time.

I couldn’t erase it. That time, though maybe not what I intended on it being, means something to me. It means bull-headedness determination. It means doing something greater than I’ve ever done. It means dealing with an abhorrence of something that’s always been my solace and somehow pushing through it anyway. It means being so damn stubborn that quitting was just not an option, even if it meant hobbling eight miles through various Disney parks. I am more proud of that time now than I was the first month after I finished that race.

So I left the time where it was. And I ran.

Just because I felt like it.

I’d like to say that muscle memory and still being in decent shape helped me have an awesome run, but, well, people fall quite a bit when instead of working out, after work habits include eating columns of Oreos, watching too much TV, and gratuitous napping. It was a short run, punctuated by walking and side stitches and that pesky little voice in the back of my head that yells “DUDE, they’re watching you stop.”

And it was the most glorious run ever. Because I MISSED it. Because it reminded me of what I loved.

Because it reminded me that mile splits and sub-8 minute mile goals and being better than anyone out there is not the point. The point is to feel free, content, relaxed.

I don’t think I’ll time anymore runs.

The stress, anxiety, flashbacks to those horrible feelings are not worth it.

It’s finally spring. My running shoes are bright pink. Bright pink seems like a perfect color to paint this city with.

New apartment, new running locations (like the steps under the Arch), new attitude.

Feels good.

I Like to Move It, Move It

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Dudes. It happened. Moving happened.

My apologies on the silence, but seriously, do you know how much time it takes to go through three years of accumulated junk? Long time. And now it will take time to unpack a majority of said junk (the stuff that made it through my THROW AWAY ALL THE THINGS phase). BUT. Moving is done.

My boyfriend is my roommate, and that is AWESOME.

And, because I’m so much more excited about the bread nuggets in this salad than I should be, I’ll leave you with a picture. This is the view from the roof of our building.

I love this place.

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Two Weeks

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Two weeks from today GCB and I sign the lease to our very awesome, very OURS, very downtown loft.

Guys, I am FINALLY moving back into the city!!! I lived in the Central West End for a year back in 2008, and I LOVED it. I loved being able to run for less than half a mile and end up in Forest Park. I loved walking to assorted eateries and coffee shops. I loved the noise, the PACE, the fact that it seemed to pulse on exceptionally busy days. I moved straight to U City after the CWE and have been here for the last four years.

But oh man, I am so excited to get back. This time it will be even better! This time I’ll be MUCH more financially stable. Not to mention the whole “walking distance to both Busch Stadium AND Scottrade” thing; being super close to things like our favorite restaurant, my dentist, and the place I would go for PT on my hip; guaranteed parking spots; grocery store super close; etc.

The fact that I’m finally going to officially live with GCB? Icing on the cake.

The only problem? It’s still two weeks away. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW FAR AWAY THAT IS?!

You see, two weeks is too long to go ahead and pack my kitchen, since we still use the majority of stuff frequently (hell, yesterday I used a pie plate to make chicken pot pie….when I’d originally thought I’d be packing it yesterday). Clothes? Yeah, right. I live in the midwest. I will probably need t-shirts AND hoodies over the next couple weeks. And you’ll all be pleased to know that no, in fact I cannot pack my bathroom stuff either as I’m quite attached to regular bathing.

I just…..I want to move NOW. I want it as bad as this Harbaugh wants cake. I WANT IT NOW.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQzni6JZuGw

Welcome to the Jungle

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I didn’t think I would ever do this.

Let’s face it. I have been a blogger of one kind or another since back in the days of xanga. I have ranged from everyone reading being someone I know to no one reading being anyone I’ve met to some mutation of the two.

It’s never been 100% public. Until now.

What you see before you is the last year or so of what I had to say. The stuff before that? Doesn’t matter.

I mean, sure, it matters in an existential “I’m who I am because of those ‘before’ things,” but doesn’t so much matter in a “let’s show this to everyone” way. That part of me, while still there on the interwebs, will be just….there on the interwebs. A memory. Fading, as memories are wont to do.

So why change my mind now? Impulse I suppose.

The thing is, I already know there are those who won’t like or will disapprove of what I say/how I say it, of what I do, of who I am. And that’s fine. Don’t like? Don’t look.

But this is me. At one point in my life, I wasn’t entirely sure who “me” was, but I know the answer now.

Hi, I’m Ann. I would like to know you. Welcome.

Welcome to the jungle. We take it day by day.

I Belong with You, You Belong with Me, My Sweetheart

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You all know that I am by no means a fan of Valentine’s Day. Not the hooplah, not the expectations, not the hurt feelings, not much of anything. Since I have been with GCB I have had a few people ask me if I was going to change my mind. No. No I’m not. He’s working tonight, and I’ll either be lifting or working through season eight of House.

That said, about a week ago Josey posted a wonderful list about her husband and the ten reasons that he’s the one for her.

I loved every single bit of it.

You see, I have been saying for the last 10 months that every single day GCB says or does something or I experience something that makes me fall even more in love with him. Every single day, without fail.

So today, in a rather abrupt departure from the type of post I would normally put up about this holiday (or the lack of post because really, it’s just another day for us), you get my list about GCB.

10. Because he makes me laugh. Our senses of humor are incredibly similar, and that fact keeps us laughing together every single day. It can be the mostly-asleep snickers that happen when he says something silly as he’s crawling into bed with me after an evening shift, or the silly jokes he makes about Frosted Flakes and dead toenails (just go with it), or even just the way he tells a story. The man’s funny.

9. Because he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in the world. He isn’t stingy with his compliments, and the way his eyes follow me, even if I’m just in a sweatshirt and jeans, makes me strut. He tells me every day that I’m beautiful. Lately I haven’t been feeling like my normal, confident self, which is entirely due to me not working out in four solid weeks, but throughout that time I’ve never had a single doubt that he is entirely attracted to me.

8. Because he is excited to experience new things with me. Training for and running Tough Mudder will be the first time he comes into my running world as more than just a spectator. I don’t play hockey, but he can certainly run. I love that he is not only willing, but entirely eager to get to share this part of my life with me rather than just watching as I disappear into the distance.

7. Because of the way he kisses me. There are the deep, meaningful, passionate kisses that leave me absolutely weak in the knees. Or the soft ones on my temple or top of my head as we’re curled up together. Or the ones when he gets home where he seems to be working on kissing every spot on my face he can get to. The best ones, though, are the ones from when we are reunited, no matter how long we’ve been apart. They are the ones that are so powerful, so staggeringly good at conveying one simple fact. That he missed me.

6. Because of the way he loves his family. I love spending time with him and his family because it is so obvious that he cares so very much for all of them. Family is hugely important to me, and I am so glad to be with someone for whom that feeling is the same. Not to mention seeing him play with his nieces me melts me into an absolute puddle of goo from my ovaries all the way out to my fingertips.

5. Because he is as big of a nerd as I am. Perhaps his nerdiness is in different areas, but we both definitely have a geeky side. I love that I could bring home a Ravenclaw pin for him as a souvenir from Harry Potter World that was meant for the Quidditch bag he had previously bought for himself. I love that he just gets it.

4. Because he is easy to talk to. I can talk to him about ANYTHING. I haven’t ever once felt embarrassed or self-conscious about anything I thought or felt, nor have I ever felt judged for holding a firm opinion. Even if we’re talking about nothing, he’s a fun conversationalist.

3. Because he is my biggest fan. Through Ragnar, through three half marathons and a full that I didn’t train for, he was there, encouraging me on and cheering for me and building me up when I felt low. He’s always so proud of me for the things I accomplish, and he doesn’t shy away from telling me.

2. Because he accepts every single facet of me. My quirks, my oddities, my opinions, everything about me, to him, is perfect. I have never and will never have to worry about being asked (or coerced) into changing one iota of myself. He loves me for me.

1. Because being with him has made me really and truly believe in the heart-stopping, breathtaking type of love that for the longest time I didn’t think really existed. I am far less cynical because of him. As recently as a year ago, I was the type who would scoff at the people who said, “I just knew,” because duh, you can’t “just know.” And then the universe laughed. I have known since our first date that I wanted to BE with him. I have known since very shortly into our relationship that I had fallen and would continue to fall hopelessly, unequivocally, end-over-teakettle in love with him. I have known for a LONG time now that I will marry this man. This love is powerful and real, and it has CHANGED me.

us

He is my person. He is who I want to share every high and every low with. His are the arms I run to in celebration and for comfort. He has the dimple I hope to one day have passed along to my children. He is who I want to wake up to every single day and whose arms I want wrapped around me every night.

He is the extra shot of espresso in the latte I call life.

He makes me better, he makes me want to BE better.

He is without the slightest hint of a doubt my best friend and the love of my life.

I am so, so happy he’s mine.

Odd One

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It has been a weird few weeks. It has not been bad, but it feels like some crazy shit’s up with the universe.

  • Some of my friends have been dealing with some SERIOUS shit lately. It’s pretty well breaking my heart for all of them, so I do what I do best. Send emails full of random links to funny things. Internet hugs. You know.
  • This past weekend was Mardi Gras. It was, as expected, a bit wild. The wildest part, though not entirely unexpected, was running into a former friend’s fiance. Our conversation was pretty successful in opening some old wounds and making me feel incredibly raw. Not his fault in the slightest, but it was still certainly odd.
  • On a brighter note, GCB and I have been approved for an apartment! We move downtown in just under six weeks. Walking distance to Busch Stadium and Scottrade Center? I’ll take it.
  • So. This past Friday I went to a sports medicine doc about my hip, which hadn’t been feeling much better in the four weeks since that stupid marathon. I had X-rays done plus an exam. Diagnosis? IT band shit, plus a little bursitis thrown in on top of that. I’m now on an anti-inflammatory regiment and will be starting up physical therapy soon. The thing is, I started the NSAIDs on Friday. Today, for the first time since before the race, I went lifting. I had MISSED it, and oh man it was good to be back. I’ll probably be sore tomorrow, but you know what? Worth it. I don’t like how I feel when I’m completely idle for weeks months at a time. I mean, putting my shoes on and driving to the gym, I started to get anxious about the potential pain, but the endorphin boost, seeing the other regulars, sweating, all of it just made me insanely happy.

  • On a somewhat related note, since my hip is neither torn nor fractured, very soon (as in before the end of the week) I’ll be signing up for Tough Mudder. I spent some time today building the framework for a training schedule that I’m pretty pumped about. This, of course, was decided the day after I found out that my marathon is causing me to lose probably my entire right big toenail. After still noticing traces of my blisters. At least that race isn’t until September, giving me a little time to slowly work back into things.
Guys, things have been crazy, but also very good. I am incredibly excited about some of the things I’ve already got planned, and can tell that 2013 is going to be the best year ever.

Hips Don’t Lie

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This adventure is going to be VERY different from my last few adventures.

In fact there are two adventures I’m looking forward to in the very near future.

I know that I am less than three weeks past that stupid marathon. I also know that I am MISSING the routine, the gym, the outdoors.

Guys? I miss running.

Progress. It is awesome.

So. Adventures. No, I’m not doing another Ragnar (even though I would say yes to one in a heartbeat). No, I’m not signing up for STL’s April half marathon (or the October one, for that matter).

I’m moving on up.

September 14. I’m already excited.

However, there’s one more adventure I have to get through before I even consider training for something like this.

Next Friday I have an appointment with an orthopedist who specializes in hip injuries. You see, I have had this stabbing pain in my left hip when I walk more than ~300 feet since the marathon. I’ve dealt with hip soreness before, but in my right hip and more of an ache than a stab. It’s not debilitating, and I don’t limp (much….or noticeably), but I am absolutely petrified to even try to run on it. I won’t even go lift with it like this.

I am kind of scared as HELL about it. Best case scenario, I’m fine and just took longer to recover than I expected, so the doctor appointment will be a double-check. Worst case scenario, I’m heading for surgery.

Surgery is absolutely not wanted, but at least April has recommended to me the guy she had hip surgery with a few years ago.

One week. I’ll know in one week.

Cabin Fever

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Earlier today, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine about my upcoming, and what should have been lazy, weekend.

Tonight: Birthday dinner for one of GCB’s closest friends.

Tomorrow: Birthday dinner for GCB’s brother-in-law followed by a night out in the city for the birthday of one of my friends.

Sunday: Birthday dinner in HomeTown for stepMark’s and my sister Michelle’s birthdays.

Her response to all of this?

“Well hell, do you people in Missouri not have anything to do during March and April?”

Ba-dum-psh.