On Journeys (Or; Go, Guy, Go...)

It's November.

That means it's National Novel Writing Month, and due to the glorious torture that is committing to NaNoWriMo, I don't usually blog much/at all during November. Because if I'm going to spend my time putting words together in a way that makes sense, I'm going to make sure they count toward that 50,000, damn it.

But I'm having a moment. Naturally, that means all planning and logic have gone out the proverbial window, and here we are.

See, this also happens to be my last evening as a 28 year-old.

Full disclosure, I'm 100% obsessed with my birthday. Not in a gross everybody-pay-attention-to-me-and-shower-me-with-gifts-all-day-yes-thnx way. I just really, really dig being alive. It's pretty much my favorite. I love having a reason to get friends together in one place and just celebrate being, and I'm going to stand by that forever, no matter how much of an internet hippie it makes me.

I also love the ritual - the bowing out of the year that was and the ushering in of the year that will be. I try to go out with a few new things and adventures. Ditto for kicking things off.

As it happens, I'm kicking 29 off in Disneyland, where I'll be spending the weekend running two races. On purpose. For fun?

Take a minute for that. I still am, and I signed up for this months ago. I'm not sure when I decided birthday meant, "Physical Challenge!" (bummed already that there are probably those amongst you too young for the reference), but there it is. A friend of mine sent a message of encouragement this morning that was simply, "Go, guy, go!" What else is there to say, besides, "Don't destroy your bod, crazy!"

I've been saying, "I really don't do things like this," except I guess I do now. With increasing regularity, actually.

If you've lurked around this digital space of mine even a little bit over the past three years or so, then you know that I've been on a journey of sorts. There have been major highs, crushing lows, and a lot of little victories and setbacks that haven't necessarily warranted documentation. Not here, anyway.

And this...man, I hate the word journey. Really, I do. It feels so lofty. This, let's say, "ongoing whatever," of mine...it's changed me. In every way possible. I'm stronger and braver and smarter. I don't spray anger everywhere they way that I did for a while - which is not to say that I have the perfect temper, but I'm doing my best while striving for better. I'm not owned by fear - not all the time, anyway. Not in the same way. I'm still working on that too.

That's the thing of it, you know. I don't think I realized it when I started, not really, but the ongoing whatever...it's always going to be ongoing. I'll always be working. And it is bitter work sometimes - soulless, joyless, painful, and so very far from fair.

But the idea of stopping now that I've got momentum...it's not an option. If I'm being honest, the idea of giving up and holding still again is actually more frightening than any unknown challenge that most assuredly lies ahead. Because now I know how much better things can get. That's not to say that I can't be present and happy with what is. Far from it - but, "what is," has to be looked after, then built upon as it becomes, "what was." We are the sum of our parts and experiences, right? Puzzle pieces.

Last day of 28, and when I look in the mirror, I see a version of myself that is puzzle pieces finally come together: the love of family and friends, the support and advice of teachers and mentors, the foundation of self-care, the messy bits - failures and frustrations and heartbreaks. The process - the assembly - makes more and more sense all the time. All of that...it made a thing. A me.

And she never wants to stop going, to stop working, to stop moving.

Guess that's growing up.

Go, guy.

Go.

On the Run (Or, All of the Pasta...)

I've been running.

Literally. I run now. It's a key component of a couple items on my list - "Finish a race," and, "Finish a half-marathon." Wait, you don't know about The List? Don't worry, it's only one post back. Check it out. I'll wait.

...

Anyway, I know what you're thinking: running is a weird thing to be afraid of. It's not that simple. The thing is, I'm not a great runner. Never have been. I have just enough form to not hurt myself, but not quite enough to look functional. I was always the last one picked for relay teams in grade school. "We like you," the other kids assured me, "But you're slow." I almost - almost - would've preferred that they just not like me.

So the running stuff...it got onto The List not so much because I was too afraid to try it, but because I had told myself I couldn't do it. Sometimes moving past your fears means reminding yourself that you are, in fact, capable - even if you'll never be anywhere near the best.

Which is all well and good, except that I do not like running. The joy that I find in cycling, that I've started to find in hiking and (indoor) rock climbing, isn't there. I get bored. Sometimes I get angry. Turns out, when I'm around other people, I get competitive. Kind of viciously. Only in my mind, of course, but I discovered during my first 10K that Mind Me can get mean. Please forgive me - it's the Call of the Wild, guys. We do what we must to survive.

I'm trying to learn to love it. Well, I say, "love"...I probably mean, "like." Well, I say, "like"...I probably mean, "mostly not hate." Because 13.1 is a lot of miles, and I've got a little over a month of training left.

Let's transition into the kitchen-y bit. A side effect of training for the race I've committed to running in the nearish future that it's way too late to back out of now what was I even thinking has been a change in metabolism. Or something. Look, I'm not a doctor, I just know that now I'm hungry basically all the time. Which is fine - I've hit a point where I'm more active now than I've been since I played sports. I'm trying to respond by staying nutritionally balanced and surrounding myself with a myriad of healthy but exciting snacks so that I don't end up hangry and confused and eating pizza all day, everyday for a week. Note: That actually kind of happened once, though, and you know what? The world didn't end. 

Sometimes, though, all your life force wants is something quick and cheap and filling. "Pasta," the wind whispers to you, "Make pasta."