Run for your life...

In the wee hours of the morning, when I'm the last in line, running the trail, I'm not sure where I'm going, and I've soaked my shirt in sweat, I tell myself I'm not sure. I'm not sure if things might not be easier once I stop trying to run. I'm not sure I'm a morning person. I'm not sure this is helping me sleep better at night. I'm not sure I'll ever lose weight. I'm not sure I can actually run a mile without wheezing. I'm not sure I enjoy this. I'm not sure I can keep going. I'm not sure my legs will carry me. I'm not sure if I'm pushing too hard. I'm not sure if I'm just afraid. I'm not sure when, or if, this gets easier. I'm not sure why I'm doing this anymore. I'm not sure I'm anymore a part of this team than I once was. I'm not sure I'll ever be a running gazelle.

I tell myself I'm not sure until its the loudest voice I've ever heard. Then something weird happens. I keep running and it shuts up, I follow the turn in the trail, and I round the next bend.  

A tiny voice in my head tells me that I've made a wild, out-of-the-box completely unpredictable decision. When people pose the question, 'what would you do if you weren't afraid', I now have an actual answer. I chose to run with Gilbert Tuhabonye. If you don't know him he's an Olympian. I chose to run with Gilbert not because he was a skilled runner but because I believed in the community he built around running. I believe in why he runs, and while he hasn't convinced me to love the actual running part just yet, today he is the reason I run.

The truth is Austin sometimes seems unsurmountable, it's how growing cities work, I see unfamiliar faces and I forget who I know. The world suddenly starts to seem, big, huge, gigantic, it's a Moby Dick novel swallowing me whole. I come to the surface unsure. Then someone runs by that I recognize, they're in my running class, I see someone with a Gazelle shirt ahead of me on the trail, I take a step forward, and then another, and then another, and before I know it, I'm running again.

Lesson #59: The world is smaller than you think

So you say it's your birthday...

If you’re 30 or older you will think the next paragraph is dumb. I do too, but I can’t help it. Apparently I am dumber in my 30’s, but to honest, it kind of snuck up on me. I know the numbers go in order, but I was blatantly unprepared. I am no longer a spontaneous twenty something, I am 30. Have you ever googled 30, I have. None of those people look happy. Actually that’s not true, the guests look happy, probably because they are in their twenties. I am not ready to be 30. I don’t like the smell of anti aging moisturizer. I had this dream of highlighting my hair pink, but I can’t anymore, because I’m 30. No more piling up baskets of laundry and taking them to my mom’s house. No more sleeping till noon. I hate Ann Taylor Loft. No more piercing my belly button, or getting a tramp stamp in the shape of a Chinese symbol that means dangerous. I can no longer use moving back in with my mom as a fall back plan. I have approached this birthday kicking and screaming. As far as I'm concerned they’ll never take me alive. All my friends keep trying to make me feel better. They say 30 is the new 20. Guess what, 30 isn’t the new 20, that’s just what people in their 20’s say when they have to turn 30. I guess the positive thing is I don’t feel 30, but I was talking to my grandfather the other day, and do you know what he said? He said he doesn’t feel 87. It never ends, for the rest of my life I won’t feel my age. At least this is how I felt up until I actually had to turn 30. This is the first birthday that has felt like a physical act. I had to turn 30, it didn’t just freaking do it itself. 30 is rude.

 Ok I know you're fed up with my self wallowing right now, but just keep reading, I'm almost done.

It wasn’t until the actual week before that I decided to do something about my crotchety attitude. Everyone was asking, “What are you doing on your birthday?,” and since lying in bed crying over the loss of my twenties seemed more tiring than doing something, (crying is tiring) I decided it might be better to just face it, this was going to happen to me weather I liked it or not, so I might as well make people suffer with me. So to change my attitude, and prevent a full fledged panic attack when someone said happy birthday, I decided to google “coping with turning 30.” Turns out tons of people are just like me. They have no idea what’s happening to them either. It made me feel better to know I wasn’t alone, other people hate this too. I was so confused; I used to love my birthday, it's a known fact, kid’s love birthdays. Free cake, balloons, all the shiny faces, acting stupid, forming clicks, it was what I lived for. So I started thinking about what my kid self thought about 30, and here’s what I came up with. I’m supposed to be rich, it is how I always pictured myself at 30, married with kids, wearing baseball caps and driving carpool. The 8 year old in my head is severely disappointed in this life. In fact she’s freaking pissed. Since last week she’s been screaming “Why the hell don’t we have a Barbie dream life you B?” And I’m wondering that too? Then I realize that while I don’t have a drawstring elevator, I do have it pretty good. I mean people WANT to hang out with me, which, in adult world, means I’m cool. I always wanted to be cool! Ok, so admittedly I am not thrilled to turn 30, but I’m getting there. So here’s the thing, I would still pay a butt load of money to know what I know now and be 25 again, but if I have to be 30, well, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lesson # 57: Age is just a number.

Safe at Home

I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm not a real deep thinker. My political science degree was mostly a place holder. I'm not passionate about health care, and I don't make enough money to care about what happens to my tax dollars. Ok, so I occasionally read the drudge report, and I downloaded a CNN app, but that's about as close as I'm ever going to get to watching the news. I operate on the assumption that others will worry enough for me. That others will tell me what to do in a crisis. In my small world, on my small plot of rented land, I feel safe. This isn't the most popular way to go through life, but I promise I'm not just freeloading. I try to do little things to help, love my dog as much as possible, shop local, water my plants, say thank you, and smile at strangers. To you this may sound shallow, but I make a consciencous effort every day to remain thankful. The problem is, the world operates on a scale that I cannot control, and while I have the fear enough to worry, I appreciate the shelter. I recognize that I've only ever heard gun shots on TV. I value only ever having to watch stories about war on afilitate news channels. I can say, with a fair amount of certainty, that I will never be tortured for classified information. My location today, will remain the same at my will. I own my freedom, because others own it for me. I may not watch the news, I may never know war, but I am thankful for the people who chose to save my life everyday. 

Lesson #58: Let Freedom Ring

The life of the Cucumber Beetle

I know more than you'd ever want to know about the cucumber beetle. They are are bad little stinkers, they eat the roots and leaves of the cucumber plant, amongst other things, which you might plant in your garden, if you have a green thumb, or a farm. While covering cucumber plants at Green Gate to eradicate these tiny pests, I decided I wanted to learn more about this day glow lady bug. For this I consulted google, my source for all things unknown. If in doubt, always google. Apparently these little bugs migrate to the cucumber and overwinter. If you're like me, you have no idea what overwinter is either. Google gives a long lengthy definition, here is my best interpretation.Imagine a rainy cold Saturday, you get deep under the covers, turn off the lights, and snuggle in your marshmallow bed until summer. The cucumber beetle does pretty much the same thing, they conk out till summer under a bed of leaves, and when they wake up, they're exactly where they should be. Which is exactly why I envy this stripey little doodle. From what I can tell, this bug knows exactly what it wants. Sometimes I wish it were that easy, wake up crawl out of bed, smell the cucumber and go to town. It's so simple and yet so perfect. Exactly what life seems to lack at 29. Everything is uncertain, and difficult, and sometimes I'm just so tired. Some times I have no idea what I'm doing on the farm, I hate bugs, in fact I like Off, I love it, I love the smell, and the oily chemical feel, I don't have a green thumb, I don't cook, I don't garden, I don't like dirt, and I will always find the ant pile. But despite all the glaringly obvious reasons why I should stay inside, I find the one thing that makes me want to spend my waking hours avoiding ant piles. I love simplicity. I love that lettuce is lettuce, I love that for every problem there is a clear and tested solution, I love that you fill the four inch pot, poke the seed in, place it in the bin, water the pots and know what you're going to get in the end. I wish life was more like the cucumber beetle.

Lesson #56: Maybe it's about simplicity?