Last night I had the most vivid dream of my entire life. Basically I was hanging out with one of my Disney roommates when we got a text from my other Disney roommate showing us her new tattoo of the state of Utah on her forearm. Don’t worry guys, she’s from Mississippi so clearly everything you are about to read will make perfect sense. She then sent us another text demanding we get to the tattoo parlor immediately. When we got there another one of my Disney roommates was in the artist’s chair getting Sleeping Beauty Castle tattooed across her ENTIRE BACK. And like, it was all these weird pastel colors and had this made up – but super profound – quote from Alice in Wonderland and dream me was INSANELY JEALOUS of it all. So then we did the only natural thing and sat around eating pizza while we watched my roommate being tattooed by a five year old.

Which is to say, I think it is time I finally got serious about my Disney ink.

That castle is gonna look SO GOOD on my back, y’all.

Kidding. Sort of.

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As you probably know by now (because I bring it up all the effing time), when I decided to start training for a half marathon I didn’t even have a single 5K to my name. I spent the majority of my training making everything up as I went along and it wasn’t until I showed up to run the race that I actually realized just how much I still had to learn as a runner. Today, nearly two years from when I started training for my first half marathon, I started training for my first ever marathon. In order to mark this momentous occasion I have put together ten things I wish I had known when I first started training those twenty three months ago.

It wasn’t long before the “hahaha the internet tricked me in to running a half marathon” jokes ran their course and I realized I actually had to, you know, train for the thing. As far as I was concerned, here were the facts as I saw them:

1. I had five months to learn how to run 13.1 miles while ensuring it wasn’t the last thing I ever did.

2. I didn’t know shit about running.

Desperate for answers I turned to the Google machine, but all I got were results like: YOU BETTER NOT FUCK UP WITH THE WRONG SHOES and HERE ARE TEN MILLION STRETCHES YOU NEED TO MEMORIZE AND DO FOREVER and DON’T FORGET THIS $300 WATCH THING THAT DOUBLES AS A GPS SOMETHING OR OTHER and YOU CALL THOSE MUSCLES? GET THEE DO A GYM IMMEDIATELY.

So yeah, it didn’t take long before I was cursing the internet for tricking me in to running a half marathon and began brainstorming my best exit strategy. And sure this might seem really obvious to some of you, but it sure as shit was news to me, because it turns out all you really need to start running is to start running. Yup, you just need your own two feet. Save all the fancy shit for later. Actually, even then you don’t need most of it. But more on that later.

Once I finally started running I was absolutely thrilled to learn how quickly being able to run only one block without stopping turned in to being able to run two blocks without stopping. All of my overwhelm from the initial weeks became a distant memory. Bye bye overwhelm! HELLO RUNNER’S HIGH. In a few short weeks I became a woman transformed. All I wanted was to run and run and increase my distance as quickly as possible. It didn’t take long, however, before my body revolted. It was all, “Um, excuse me. I was totally willing to play along with this weird running game you decided to play without consulting me but now I’m gonna have to put my foot down. Back to the couch we go!” And just like that my knees started to hurt all. of. the. time. In addition, I had my first ever encounter with shin splints and spent all of my non-running hours hobbling around like an 80 year old woman.

I had made the entirely too common newbie mistake and ignored all of the running literature that told me how important it is to start slowly. Because I had absolutely no running background, my body needed the time to build up the proper muscle strength to support my new hobby. When I started increasing my “mileage” too quickly, I began to put myself at a much greater risk for serious injury. So I dialed my training back a bit, became best friends with my ice pack and before I knew it the pain in my knees was a thing of the past.

It didn’t take long in to my new life as a runner before pretty much all I ever wanted to talk about was running. I was amazed to learn how many of my friends and acquaintances were also runners. Surrounding myself with runners was an invaluable resource. Not only were we able to swap running stories and pointers, but they were also the ones who understood when I couldn’t go out on a Saturday night because I had a long run early on Sunday morning. They gave me the encouragement I needed and I loved watching our relationships grow over our mutual hobby. To this day I often have a hard time striking up conversations with strangers, but the second I find out they are runners you won’t be able to shut me up.

Not only do I love to talk about running but I also love to read about running. If you want an unrelenting source of inspiration and motivation read books about runners doing incredible running things. Reading about running has taught me so much about the many possibilities in the world of endurance running and probably deserves all of the credit for putting ideas like “run a marathon on all seven continents” in my head. The two books that helped me the most when I first started running were Born to Run and The Long Run. I honestly couldn’t recommend those books enough.

When I was about half way through my training, I learned that I am allergic to alcohol. This was one of the best things that happened to my running career because it taught me that what I eat matters. I hadn’t realized it at the time, but my excessive alcohol consumption was negatively impacting my training (among so many other things). With the huge improvement that quitting alcohol for my training brought me, I began thinking about what I ate before, during and after my runs. I finally put it together that whenever I had a side cramp during a run I could usually trace it back to what I had eaten in the hour or so before I hit the pavement. I also learned that what I ate within the first thirty minutes after a workout significantly impacted my recovery.

In the final weeks leading up to my half marathon I fell in to a really bad habit. I would diligently run all of my runs throughout the week, but when it came time to run my long run at the end of the week I decided a nap sounded nice instead. This is exactly how I found myself on race day standing at the starting line never having run more than eight miles in my entire life and wondering why I had ignored all the times I was told to never skip the long runs. These runs are important because not only would they have gotten my body used to running for two or three hours at a time, but they are valuable opportunities to try out new strategies for replenishing electrolytes, water, and glycogen. Because here’s the thing: I am in charge of how I feel at the starting line. Race day was going to arrive whether I liked it or not and I was in charge of how I spent those many months leading up to the race preparing. Which is to say, that standing on the starting line on that chilly October morning I felt more nervous than I had ever felt as I realized just how much I had messed up my training. Trying to keep the nerves at bay, I realized that I was still in charge of how I felt at the starting line and shifted my thoughts from what I did wrong to what I did right and how much I was going to dominate the shit out of this race.

Like a lot of new runners, I was obsessed with the thought that in order to be a runner I had to run fast. I felt like it was cheating to run slower than nine minutes per mile. Even though I totally was in no shape whatsoever to be running a nine minute mile, I insisted upon running that fast at all times. This is largely why I ended up walk running my entire first half marathon. I would run too fast for four mintes and walk for one or two. When I hit the six mile mark during my race, it finally dawned on me that I had completely approached running wrong. By the time my next half marathon rolled around I ditched the idea that real runners run fast and accepted that real runners run. I finished that race without a single walk break at a pace of 11:30 per mile. Because, whaddya know, slow and steady literally finishes the race.

My favorite part about running a race of any distance for the first time is that my actual for reals only goal is to cross the finish line. I have no PRs (personal records) to worry about. No matter how the race goes, crossing the finish line will be my own personal best – pace be damned! So I might as well take my sweet time and enjoy the hell out of the journey. Because that is the most important thing I have ever learned about running: if I’m not enjoying the journey, what’s the point? Running should be fun!

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When I crossed the finish line of my first half marathon three thoughts immediately went through my head:

1. Holy fucking shit I actually did it!

2. People who run marathons immediately have to do this again.

3. There is no fucking way I am ever running a marathon.

Now, imagine if you will my surprise upon finding myself less than two hours later about to devour the most epic barbecued feast of my entire life eagerly nodding in the affirmative after being asked whether I would ever consider running a full marathon.

It was as if those finish line crossing thoughts had never even happened. I was just like, “What do you mean I said there was no fucking way I would ever run a marathon? That’s silly. If running a marathon means more of this running high then I will run marathons until the end of time! Sign me up, baby!”

But then, you know, the high faded and I was like “bahahaha as if suckers!”

So imagine if you will my even greater surprise to presently find myself less than twelve hours away from workout one of my first ever marathon training plan.

To which I say, what is this life???

Also, I’m pretty sure I have lost my if and only know of when. Because WHEN I cross the finish line of my first marathon (four months from Wednesday!) I am pretty sure that my head is quite simply going explode seeing as there are no other possible options at that moment.

To celebrate (?) the beginning of my marathon training tomorrow I will be sharing the ten things I wish I had known when I started training for my first race. Cause, you know, my absolute favorite game is “how many people can I trick in to running all of the races with me?” *cough* I’m looking at you Olivia *cough*

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Today I was at work mindlessly cleaning some menus (life after college amirite?) when out of no where a giant, white hummer limousine pulled up in front of the restaurant. To my horror, I watched as the back door flew open and twenty grown-ass adults came tumbling out of the thing and made their way to my host desk. And I’m not just talking grown-ass adults like you and I pretend to be, oh no, I’m talking grown-ass adults in their forties and fifties.

As I watched them approach, I could feel my annoyance grow to dangerous levels. Immediately I assumed my defensive position and battened down the hatches for the storm that was about to hit. Large, boisterous parties in the middle of a dinner rush are the things nightmares are made of.

Once inside, the least drunk of the group stepped forward and asked how long the wait would be for twenty – because of course they didn’t have a reservation*. When I informed her that it would be close to a thirty minute wait, I fully expected the usual eye roll huff and puff routine that most large parties without a reservation perform. Instead, the woman’s face lit up and she was just like, “THAT’S AWESOME. GIVE ME A HIGH FIVE!” So, I mean, of course I did and in an instant my mood changed from annoyance to joy as I began to suspect I had just found my new best friends.

While the rest of her group proceded to high five everyone in sight on their way to the bar, the woman explained to us that all of their kids were at prom and that while the kids were dancing the night away they decided to steal the limo and have a party of their own because it seemed like such a waste to have that limo doing nothing for three hours. And that’s when I knew I had found my new best friends. Because these parents are totally doing life right. Like, I’m sure their kids had an amazing time at the dance but I can guarantee their parents had a better time.

I have never seen a happier group of parents acting so brilliantly like children. They were having the night of their lives ordering fireball shots and tequila shots and eating awesome food and laughing and riding around Seattle in a mother fucking limousine.

And that’s when I realized that that is exactly what I want to be when I grow up.

*We later found out that they had actually tried to make a reservation earlier in the week but through a weird miscommunication none of us had heard anything about it.

Also, I had to put the internet in the corner this weekend because otherwise I would be spending my Saturday night crying over all the of the awesome happening in Vegas right now without me. Seriously. My heart. It hurts. So instead I’ve been focusing on my new coolest ever limo stealing BFFs. You know you jelly, BiSC-uits!

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BETTE. MERYL. OLIVIA. GOLDIE. CHER.

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I started reading Monkey Mind: A Memoir of Anxiety by Daniel Smith today. It has been an interesting experience so far in that reading words describing feelings that are entirely too familiar to me makes me feel simultaneously reassured and less alone as well as on the verge of an anxiety attack at any moment because the words feel that familiar. When I am deep in the well of anxiety I am usually aware of how irrational I am being, but I feel so helpless to do anything about it. This is why I am often so afraid of talking to anyone about what I am going through, and often feel so alone in my anxiety. That’s my favorite part about Daniel’s writing. He does a great job of capturing the irrationality of anxiety in an amusing and familiar way.

The thing that hit me the hardest was when he started talking about how freedom is often the biggest downfall for the anxious. There is a deep-seeded anxiety in knowing you have to make a choice between one thing or another and constantly fearing that you will make the wrong choice and set off a regrettable chain of events.  The more options you have to choose from and the bigger the choice, the more intense the anxiety. This is easily the biggest hurdle I am often faced with.

A good friend of mine once told me that I am the kind of person who wants everything all at once. And it is completely true. This is exactly why I have such a hard time figuring out what I want to be when I grow up and why you’ll often get a different answer every single time you ask me.

No seriously if you had asked me two weeks ago I would have told you with complete conviction that I want to go back to school to study nutrition. Today? I want to be a high school science teacher.

Except it’s not that I no longer want to be a nutritionist. It’s that I am just leaning more toward science teacher. The desire for both has always been there – and still is. In addition to that I also want to be a writer. And a race coordinator. And a professional party planner. And a teacher of English abroad. And an EMT. And a marine biologist. And a social media guru. And a TV and movie critic. And an international volunteer. And a physician’s assistant. And a worker of seasonal jobs in exotic places. And an imagineer creating magic every single day.

See? I want to do it all.

And the thought of committing to just one of those things – even though I know that is the key to being successful at any of them – is what keeps me up at night the most. I know that the second I commit to my life as a high school science teacher I am turning my back on my life as a professional nomad. And listen, on a rational level I completely realize that that isn’t actually true, but that isn’t how anxiety works.

Anxiety tells me that once I make my choice that’s it. Forever. So I might as well not pick and be a ball of indecision until the end of my days. Except the anxiety of not choosing is worse. It’s a terrible cycle of suck, really.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, this is mostly what I dealt with for the greater part of 2012 and in to 2013. I know it all sounds kind of silly – that I am blessed with so many amazing opportunities – but the crippling anxiety I felt at not being able to figure out what I want to do with my life is exactly what led me to one of the darkest years of my entire life.

These past few months I have been focused on taking things one step at a time because I know that has played the most significant role in bringing me closer to making the big choices. I know that one day I will figure this all out, and that I am not alone in facing this kind of uncertainty. I’d probably even figure it out sooner if my damn monkey mind would stop getting in my way.

But what is the fun in that?

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glitter-less shoes

So I’m missing Bloggers in Sin City for the first time since I first discovered Bloggers in Sin City and I can already tell that watching Bloggers in Sin City unfold in real time from thousands of miles away is the actual worst.

It also doesn’t help that at least five different people I know in Seattle are travelling to Vegas this weekend, too. All for completely different reasons, too! What are the chances of THAT?

At least I have my Super Cool Party Person, Amanda, to commiserate with me.

As for my beloved BiSC-uits descending upon Las Vegas this weekend: Please have the best most sparkliest time and don’t forget to dance your mother effing faces off for me!

In the mean time I am going to re-read my recap from last year and keep myself as far away from Twitter and Instagram as possible this weekend.

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This morning afternoon I woke up to a dead bird in the middle of my living room. Two days ago I woke up to the most disgusting hair ball of all time by the stairs leading in to my living room. Two days before that I woke up to an entire bag of garbage strewn all about – you guessed it – my living room.

With the previous three statements I think it is safe to say that either a.) I should probably never sleep again or b.) something needs to be done about the animals in my life.

Possibly related: I started watching The Twilight Zone today and I’m already beginning to suspect that maybe my entire life is one giant episode of The Twilight Zone.

Finally, this is your friendly reminder that Pretty Little Liars returns four weeks from today and you all have until then to get your shit together and get caught up because that’s when I stop talking about how Rod Serling should narrate my life and instead I start narrating the lives of four very pretty little liars.

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