gratitude for being back.

there's a lot of newness around me: glasses, apartments, soup skills, immersion blenders, experiences like straightening my hair in a starbucks, curtains, blisters, running shoes, eighth and ninth grade girls, yoga poses, apple peeler corer slicers, pt stretches, etc.

and i had a realization about all of this newness-- i am done talking and whining and writing and crying and watching and controlling and hurting about the last twelve to eighteenish months. i am finally done. because as all of these new things come, the old things seem to diminish, little by little each day.

i've been looking at the process (not so much the content), owning it, making a change and moving forward. and also recognizing the continued poor choices and reminding myself, "it's not about me." (it might have been at one point, but it's not any more.) and taking responsibility for my actions, for what was a bittersweet time and finally, finally having the pleasure of sitting on the other side, literally thanking God that i can breathe again, feel like myself again, and be full of joy. how i've longed to feel joy again; real, true joy.

getting to the other side of this valley has meant things like making a flourless chocolate cake late on a friday night and being okay with it not tasting amazing. or picking the pair that is safe instead of edgy at the seventh glasses shop. and taking risks and putting myself out there, even for not-so-great sushi and funny social experiments. it's meant telling friends when feelings are hurt so i prevent myself from being passive aggressive in the future. and stopping mandy on the street corner, just so i can pause her voices for six seconds and remind her to get oatmeal the next morning. it's meant therapy and therapy and a little more therapy. and frequent calls to family members just to check-in about this and that and laugh about the infamous taxi driver. and it's meant letters and cards and texts and hellos and i love yous and hugs and baked goods and being meticulous about my eyebrows and loving my light blue twin sized bed and saying yes to painting my nails until they are just right and making every effort to not work more than forty four and dreaming about how the community around me can adopt my clients, or just adopt in general, and while running, it's meant repeating over and over and over again, "i will run and not grow weary."

ultimately, back to being myself has meant being a little less selfish. as a friend of a friend would say, "i am happiest when my life isn't about me." this is a life worth contributing to.

signs my body is getting older.

this past week i saw significant signs of physical aging in my own life and since then, i've whined to myself almost every day, "but i'm only twentysix."

one. my physical therapist says i have bad hips. or, not-so-strong hips. he's taken it upon himself to kick my ass, or hips, until the big day. ugh, BROKEN IT-BAND.

two. i need glasses. it's a low prescription, yes, but i still need them. my optometrist says my eyes need to relax and it's a sign of tired eyes. TIRED EYES?!

three. i was swinging on a swing with my client, having some friendly who-can-swing-the-highest competition, and i had to stop. why? because it was making me nauseous. I USED TO LOVE THE SWINGS.

cheers to ninethousand fivehundred and fiftynine days of life.

you're doing it, peter!

i thought a lot about the movie hook on my recent twenty mile run, specifically the scene when the lost boys are gathered around a feast and peter finally believes and consequentially gets to fly.

that was me on saturday morning, in the blowing wind and the falling rain-- finally believing. believing that i can do this, no matter what my body tells me. and that i can make it to the end, because the eight words i repeated over and over and over again got me through. i realized, to a greater extent, how much stronger my mind is than my body.

and though my consequence wasn't to fly, being able to finish twenty miles was worth it. three weeks until go-time. i am ready. bangarang!

did you watch modern family this week?

i can finally show you this! it will make more sense if you (one) watch the show and (two) know that my cousin's name is brandon, he is the camera man, and it was his birthday.

note: ed o'neill does not actually know what's going on.

holding my breath.

twenty miles, here i come.

sunday starts the oh-so-familiar taper.

the magic of this fog.

summer in san francisco from michael winokur. discovered via sfgirlbybay

there's something about san francisco's fog that makes this place so special. it's not like the central valley's deadly tule fog that i grew up with. instead it captures your mind, your attention, and for me, it makes me wonder about movement. i guess it reminds me of sufjan's thoughts on movement, too. regardless, i think about how i am changing, progressing, continuing in a forward motion instead of an upward motion (the way i often think of growth).

this fog, this city treasure that often makes me roll my eyes and shout to the sun in my teeny tiny voice, "come out, come out, wherever you are!", is perfect. and riveting. and is an almost-daily reminder that this blanket doesn't have to hide me, but i can embrace the beautiful gray mess that it is. exactly where i am, exactly in this place.

all good things must come to an end.

today i said goodbye to the very first case i opened on my own. goodbyes are never easy, especially when they really are permanent.

goodbye to you who taught me about resilience.
goodbye to you who longed for a good enough attention.
goodbye to you who cared enough to keep trying, over and over again.
and goodbye to you who just needed to be loved in a new way.

four weeks from today.

i will be a finisher.
i will remember to breathe.
i will try to convince myself to quit.
i will take it one step at a time.
i will remember my progress. as a runner, a person.
i will reflect.
i will cry.
i will hurt. and ache.
but i will be a finisher.

a word of encouragement for the marathoner, from the marathoner.

maggie says: "all i'm saying, em, is that you are not going to regret this. somedays it will feel glorious, and somedays you will fall apart and want to cuss out one of the sweetest friends you have who is always picking up the pieces for you. because that's the beauty of the beast. but that's what makes it so good. the achy muscles and the beating heart and the smell of 18-miles worth of sweat. you're doing it. and i'm so proud of you. so go ahead and cuss people out in your head when you need to. and (again) eat the good stuff while you can without apologizing. and drink lots of water and get lots of rest and say a prayer of thanks here and there for your own beautiful, incredible body with wonderful glutes and quads and hamstrings and calves and feet and toes and pony tails and all that amazing beautiful stuff."

take a pic of yourself in that dress with some red lipstick.

that was cait's idea. which dress? the one jcrew accidentally sent me. the one i didn't order.

i'm not going to deny the fact that i want to keep the dress. or at least return it for more useful clothing. is it bad to wear it once and then give it back? i mean, really, it's just like renting it, right? or borrowing it? maybe?

i guess if it were mine originally i'd want it back. but let's be real, i wouldn't accidentally send something of mine to the wrong person.

don't frown on me because my first inclination wasn't to send it back, i'm just not that holy. oh, ethical decisions, you make my brain itch.