A return to the beginning

This evening I had the chance to hang out with the Andy sisters.  We were neighbors up until T. and I were in the 6th grade.  Sophie came with me.  It was the oddest thing--spending time with people from the opposite ends of my spectrum.

We hadn't lived in our house on Lawman Ave. very long when they moved in.  It was early evening at the beginning of September, and my mother was allowing me to make my first practice run darting across all the neighbors' backyards to return home from my grandparents' house on the other side of the block ("Don't stop anywhere.  Don't talk to anyone.  Come straight home.").  I sincerely didn't MEAN to stop.  I was running home with my tangled hair flying behind me when I spotted the two girls who weren't there earlier.  I stopped in my tracks.

They were exploring their small fenced in backyard.  Girls to play with.  I was terribly shy and had absolutely no idea how to approach them, so I did the next best thing and stared openly at them from behind the trunk of a tree.  The tree in which we would eventually spend so much time.  They quickly spotted me and called out.  I froze in terror.  I felt silly continuing to hide at that point, but I had no idea what else to do.

Soon after I found my hiding spot, someone came home and brought the girls food from McDonald's.  Oh, surely these were the luckiest girls alive!  My stomach growled watching them eat their dinner.  One of them--I can't remember which--held out some french fries in my direction.  An invitation.  Food!  My shyness couldn't resist and I left the safety of the tree.  I completely forgot that I was supposed to be going home for dinner.

Trapped/digging out

This weekend we had very few choices. For a variety of reasons not worth going into, we're out of money until payday (and we only get paid once per month). Plus, my car is having some serious issues and should not be driven until I get it fixed. Which cannot happen until after payday. Thus, this weekend we stayed in. And ate ramen noodles.

Mostly we lounged. I spent a little time clearing some clothes and other stuff out of the bedroom to give us more space. I threw away items that I swore I would fit into again. I threw away the blanket that I originally started crocheting for my grandma, because I am never going to finish it. Tears were the result.

I am still interested in getting back into running (inspired, in part, by brief encounters with my old running clothes) and Ivan agrees. I think joining the gym is our most realistic option, although we have different ideas about which gyms to join.

Last night we went to bed early.

This morning when emerging from the shower, Ivan said, "Baby, I'm sorry living with me isn't more glamorous."

He needn't worry. It's perfect.

Oh, and...

I registered for my first race in years. I'm running in the See Jane Run 5K in Alameda in June. That gives me PLENTY of time. So much time, in fact, that I'd like to not just work up to running the distance, but also to run betters splits than what I ran in my 8K.

I'm incredibly excited.

Año Nuevo

I wanted to post a New Year blog.

I wanted to curse 2009 and welcome 2010. I wanted to reflect on New Year's resolutions and my history with and without them. I wanted to say that I couldn't believe it's now been a decade since Chris and I sat on my couch in my first apartment in Richmond, VA, wondering if all hell would break loose when Y2K arrived.

Tonight I was at Safeway when Rod Stewart's "Ooh La La" came on. At first I was pleased and hummed along as I picked out my yogurt for the week. By the time I got to the frozen foods aisle, I heard:

I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
when I was stronger.

I started to cry. "Fuck," I thought. "Way to start out 2010: sobbing to Rod Stewart in front of the frozen pizza."

It's just that I really want this year to be different, and no words I can say or write can sufficiently convey just how urgently I want that. Every year I approach the new year with renewed hope about what my life might be, what I might accomplish. I suppose most people do.

This New Year's Eve I stared at the blue moon and thought about my best year so far: 2004. I finished grad school and my entire family came to be with me. My grandpa and grandmother were still here. I started training for a marathon and was in the best shape of my life. I felt like I was going places.

It's just that I've lost so much time. I have now lost years to depression, and I'll never get them back. I have always had a tendency toward nostalgia and melancholy, and my focus on absence--on the people I have loved best and most who are no longer with me for whatever reason--overtakes me for long periods of time.

They're never coming back.

I am turning 33 in a couple of weeks.

I am going to run. I am going to run my fucking ass off.