As It Turns Out

Life is really hard.

And 2017 hasn't been my year.

I didn't post about here, but we lost Granny B in June. Even though I know that we can't live forever, living without her has been supremely difficult. She was my fiercest critic and my greatest fan. And I miss her terribly every single day.

And it turns out that no matter how much you want to be the person that someone needs, you can't. I wrote last week about Babe and his struggles with mental health. And this week, despite how much I love him, due to the things that he is going through, he is unable to be in a relationship with me anymore.

I'm devastated.

Completely wrecked.

Incapacitated.

Folks, I don't know how to go on.

I know that I will figure it out, that's what I do. I'll spend a few days in a total depression and then I'll pick it all up and start making plans again.

But in this moment, I want to curl into a ball, crawl into a hole, and stay there forever.

How do you go on when you had plans for a future that is not longer a possibility?

How do you move on from a love that you don't want to live without?

How do you stop crying?

Cue the Hysterical Laughter...

You know how they say, "Make plans, and God laughs at you." Or something to the effect?

Well, I think he's upstairs saying, "Airplane, you're hilarious!"

In my last post, over a year ago, I made mention that I was dating someone. And, surprise! he's still around. I think he's the one. We aren't without our flaws, but somehow we fit perfectly together. 

So, being the Type A planner that I am, I started planning.

In my head (and sometimes out loud) I had a schedule, and for the most part, things were working along on that schedule. 

And then that proverbial rug got pulled out from underneath me. 

What I haven't blogged about (well, besides everything for the last 15 months or so) is that Babe* has some mental health struggles. He's the most amazing man I've ever met, but he struggles with depression and sometimes it gets really bad and he begins to think that the world may be better off without him.

Trust me, it wouldn't be.

But the thing is, he's not alone. In 2015, suicide was the tenth leading cause of death overall in the United States, and there were twice as many suicides than homicides. In fact, men are 3.5 times more likely to commit suicide than women. 

But no one is talking about it. If I told you that Babe had cancer, you would be immediately sympathetic to his cause. You would ask what his course of treatment would be. You would want to help. But if I tell you that he is trying to get better in a mental health institution, you would be more likely to change the subject. Or get uncomfortable with the topic. Or judge him.

To be honest, I don't think I fully understood the extent of the issue until I was in it. But, here I am.

I love a man who struggles with mental illness. And while my plan may be in tiny pieces scattered all over town, my love is working to get better, and I am right beside him.

These Are the Days

{Disclaimer: I started to write this post over a week ago, and am just getting around to finishing it.}

So here's the thing. This morning one of my Facebook friends posted an article about being a mom and living in the moment, etc. 

And, I get it. It's hard to be a mom. I can only imagine. I watch my sister and sister-in-law do it on a regular basis. I watch my friends do it both in person and from afar. I can not imagine that it is easy having another person rely on you for everything they need. Hell, I don't even have a pet for that reason. 

But not living in the moment is not reserved for moms who are too overwhelmed to appreciate the beauty of life. It is something that every single person struggles with. 

I am single and child-free, and most days I am overthinking things so much that I don't even know what fucking moment I'm in.

I recently visited a friend who struggled with depression for the last few years. She's had some shitty things happen in her life, and to help her deal with it, she got on medication. And it helped. But she read something in the last few weeks that made her think that maybe she could change her perspective. She read something like, in order to find peace, you must first practice faith, hope, and thanksgiving.

Sounds easy, right? 

Think about the last time something bad happened in your life. Whether it was the death of a loved one, not getting the job you wanted, or anything else that upset the balance of your life. What was your reaction? Did you sit down and thank God for what he did give you? Did you ask him why he would do that? Or did you start to question your faith?

I don't typically get religious on here, and I don't mean to now, but I think this a point that needs to be made.

When we practice faith, hope, and thanksgiving; we are ultimately happier. If every morning you woke up and made a list of things that you were thankful for. And did the same thing before you went to bed, don't you think you would be generally happier? I mean, your day would begin and end in the most positive way possible.

Try it for a week.

When we live in the moment, when we try to truly experience everything that is happening to and around us, when we are thankful for the simple things, I think we are more at peace.

I started dating someone recently. It is still new and mostly exciting, and I think I've learned as much about myself since meeting him, as I've learned about him.

It's such a fun process. Getting to know someone new. And, for me, getting to know myself through that person.

Bringing it back to the original start of this blog:

When I read that article that my friend posted about being a mom, I got upset. I get so tired of people acting like because I'm not married and don't have kids, my life is somehow less. Or even easier. 

And then I realized, I'm not doing myself any favors by getting upset. The thing is, I love my life. Don't get me wrong, I have my challenges, but in general, my life is pretty great. 

I'm visiting some friends in Denver this week and one of them said to me the other day, "You have such an awesome life! You just live it."

And I do. For all of my Type A/scheduling crazy, when an opportunity arises, I try to take it. And in the end, I try to have no regrets. 

A Resurrection!

I've been wanting to get back to regular blogging for a long time now. 

Hilarious things happen to me on a regular basis and I should be sharing them with everyone. And some not so hilarious things happen that I should also share. And I just never get around to actually opening the computer and typing it all up.

But this morning I was over at Granny B's and something happened and it was just the sign I needed to get this thing fired back up.

So here goes nothing...

Last night Granny B left me a message that she had a ring for me and she wanted me to come by the house to get it. 

Some of you may know that there is a silver ring that I wear probably 363 days a year that Granny B gave me. I cherish it. And I get so many compliments on it. I love it dearly. 

{Sidebar: a couple of months ago LaVa and I did a ride-along with the fire department and they told us to bring workout gear and we would do PT with the boys. You know me, I can never pass up an opportunity to show some boys up, so when it came time to workout, I changed and took off all of my jewelry. I could have sworn that I just set my ring on top of my clothes so I wouldn't forget it. Then in the middle of our workout, we got a call and there was no time to change, so off we went. Then we grabbed lunch. Then we got another call. And another one. And by the time we got back to the station, my ring was the last thing on my mind - getting out of my disgusting stinky workout clothes was really topping the list! So I changed my clothes and left. The next day, I realized that I didn't have my ring. I searched EVERYWHERE! I emailed the battalion chief that was on shift with us. It was gone. About two weeks later, I was looking in my small crossbody purse for something I found my ring. I nearly cried, I was so happy!}

Either way, for that reason, when she said she had a ring for me, I was super excited. So I called her back and we made plans for me to stop by this morning and have a cup of coffee with her and pick up the ring. 

For those of you who do not know, Granny B lives in a gated community. So you have to talk to the guard every time you go visit her. Because we are on her regular visitor list, we get monthly passes, but you still have to pass through the guard gate.

There is one particular guard who seems to be quite fond of Granny B, and every time he is at the window when I have to renew my pass, he asks about her and tells me to tell her hello.  I didn't have to renew my pass this morning, but he was at the gate so I rolled down my window and waved as I went through.

So we are sitting at her kitchen table having a cup of coffee with her caretaker when the caretaker asks, "Did you see Anthony at the gate this morning?"

I said that I did. Granny B asks, "Did he say anything about me?"

Whizzuh-wuh? Are we in junior high? Did she just ask me if the man at the guard gate asked about her? I almost felt like the next thing she was going to do was to have me call over there and ask if he likes her while she listened on the other phone.

But no. What she did next was much better!

Granny B: I don't even know if I remember what he looks like anymore. The only reason I met him was because they were fixing the regular gate so I had to go through the visitor gate. He asked me my name and I told him and then he asked how I was doing.

{Sidebar: I believe what actually happened was that when she told him her last name, he made a comment about it not being an Italian name, but that is neither here nor there.}

Me: Oh yeah? And from then on he was smitten?

Granny B: Well, then I found out he was married. Damn it! (as she slams her hand on the table)

Me: That's the story of my life, Granny B! The story of my damn life.

Granny B: I would have had him over for pasta or something.

Me: (laughing hysterically)

Granny B: I'll tell him, 'Get rid of your wife and I'll show you.'

Caretaker: You'll show him what?!

Me: (trying to catch my breath and wipe my tears because I haven't laughed this hard since Friday morning with LaVa.)

Granny B: Sorry to be so bold, but when you're desperate, you know.

YOU GUYS! Granny B is 93 years old! I'm not sure my heart can handle this kind of talk!

What If?

I've been struggling a lot lately.

I feel like I say that a lot. But I think if we are all being honest, we struggle more than we are willing to admit. And since I'm all about being honest, I'm laying it out for you all right here.

I've been struggling with motivation. I'm struggling with who I want to be. I'm struggling with who I currently am. 

It seems like I am searching for all the wrong things in all the wrong places. 

Tonight I was scrolling through Facebook and there were two things that made me think - first was an article about a young man who was killed in a car accident, the second was a flashback post from a friend who was in a car accident that should have killed her 8 years ago.

And it got me thinking. (You knew that was coming.)

What if today was your last day on Earth? Would you feel like you lived a full life? What would people say about you? 

What if tomorrow you got a second chance at life? What would you do differently? 

So, that's what tomorrow is for me. It is a second chance at this. It is the chance that I'm going to take to be everything I can be. To get my priorities in line, and stick to them.

It is time for me to start loving me and being me. Stop trying to do things to please others. Or be who they want me to be. 

Why is that so hard to do?

It's Legal Now

I've been meaning to tell this story for some time now.

Towards the end of last year, I learned about a mentorship program through a local nonprofit and I just knew that I needed to sign up for it.

In order to do that, I needed to get fingerprinted at the police department. The day that I went in, I happened to be wearing the ring that LaVa gave me for Christmas.

It isn't a diamond ring and I wasn't wearing it on my left hand. These details will be important in about five seconds.

The city where I work uses police volunteers to do the fingerprinting. So I was dealing with an older gentleman - probably in his late 70s.

As he was dipping my fingers in ink and pressing them onto the paper, he was making conversation. On the fourth finger he asks me, "who made you that ring?"

Me: It was a Christmas gift from one of my girlfriends.

Him: Oh. What did you get her?

Me: Umm. I can't actually remember.

Him: I guess it wasn't very meaningful. Are you guys serious?

All of the sudden I realize that he thinks I said that my girlfriend gave me the ring. There's no way I can get out of this now. And certainly no way to tell him that I got LaVa a sleep shirt that says, "The Snuggle is Real."

By this point we are on to the second hand and I'm hoping that we can get out of this conversation before it gets any deeper.

Wishful thinking.

We sit down to finish the paperwork and he keeps asking questions. Do we love each other? Are we going to get married? You know that's legal now?

I tell him that, no, we aren't getting married. He asks why. Then says, "you're not sure yet, are you?"

Exactly! I'm not sure I am an actual lesbian, Sir! I told you that one of my girl.space.friends. got me this ring. Not my actual girlfriend.

Of course, I didn't say that. I just smiled. Then he asks, "is your family ok with it?"

We were so close to being done. I just said that they were. Though when I left there and called Match to relay the story to her, I decided that I should have started crying and said, "no. I haven't been able to tell them."

Get It From Within

I really should be sleeping right now if I'm going to get up and make it to 5am CrossFit, but if there is one thing I have learned about myself, it is this: if I start thinking that I want to write something, I need to open the computer and start writing. It seems that the inspiration and words never come to me again.

Often I read something that speaks to me. Either negatively or positively, it moves me to change who I am or how I do things. Tonight I read one of those things.

It was about self-validation - only it really wasn't. But that's what I got from it.

And just prior to that, when I had gotten undressed and was standing in front of the mirror, I was admiring myself. (I know, it sounds ridiculous.) Honestly, I have some weight to lose. And I know I could eat better. But when I looked in the mirror tonight, I liked what I saw. It was kind of soft, but it was also kind of feminine. 

But too many times throughout the day, I let myself be burdened with the words other people are saying. And the thing is, they aren't even saying them to me. Or about me. Why am I so vain to think that their words are a reflection of me?

I know that I am too caught up in society's definition of beauty. No matter how much I want to say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, when someone talks about how beautiful someone is because they are "tiny" or "have a bangin' body," I feel like they are saying that I am not beautiful because I am neither of those things.

But I am beautiful. When I look in the mirror, with or without clothes, I see beauty. And at the end of the day, isn't that what matters? 

We can all spend our time listening to what others are saying and letting that dictate what we see, but isn't it much more productive to be who we are and tell ourselves that is the most beautiful thing there is?

In the end, isn't the world a more beautiful place if we are all just being our best selves?

Damn, We're Mean

So, here's the thing, I was prepared to tell you a most hilarious thing that happened to me today, but then one of my Facebook "friends" posted a link to a blog with a pretty ridiculous introduction about how she didn't agree with the post. Which got me thinking about the things I'm going to say next. So here I am, laying in bed with my laptop so that as soon as I click "publish" I can shut this thing down and roll over and fall asleep.

To begin with, why would a person post a link to something that they didn't agree with? I mean, if I read something and I don't agree with it, I don't think I post it on Facebook and tell everyone how the author is an idiot. If I don't agree with something, I don't want to be promoting it to other people. 

But the greater problem here is that we women are mean. Downright horrible to each other. In one breath we tell our girlfriends to love themselves and be who they are, and in the next breath we are bashing women we don't know (or even those we do) for doing things differently than us.

Why can't we disagree without criticism?

I'm not saying that I am above all this? I'm as guilty as the next person, but why? Why do women feel like we have to put other women down in order to justify who we are?

It's bad enough that we are hard on ourselves, why do we want to make anyone feel as bad as we make ourselves feel?

I just don't get it.

Lost

I'm lost, friends.

Not in a literal sense. In that sense, I'm sitting in my living room on my favorite chair with a glass of wine. But in the mental sense. 

And I think I just figured it out.

You see, for a very long time, I have spent my time being the problem-solver in my family. Doing the things that I thought would keep the peace. Saying the things that made everyone happy. Making sure that everyone got along. Not to my detriment, but certainly not to my freedom. (I don't even think that made sense...oh well)

So, all of the sudden, I decided to do what I wanted. To be who I wanted. To hell with everyone else. But the thing is: I don't actually know how to do that.

Don't get me wrong, I'm giving it the old college try, but it is a very confusing place for me to be.

And I think that what really throws a wrench into the whole thing is that I can't get away from listening to what everyone has to say about what I am doing or not doing. And sometimes it is contradictory to who I am. And sometimes it is just contradictory. And then I don't actually know what to do. And then I start to overthink it all. And then it all falls apart in my lap. 

And I feel like Alice in the rabbit hole. And I'm not even sure that's the proper example because I haven't watched Alice in Wonderland in at least 20 years, because I just couldn't handle the Johnny Depp as Mad Hatter thing.

So the moral of this story is: don't be me, kids. Codependency is real son-of-a-bitch.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

I was talking to Match last night and she was telling me a story about being in Costco in the last week and watching an older woman put back a regular turkey that cost $.99/lb. and pick up an organic turkey that would cost her $2.99/lb. She was willing to pay two more dollars a pound for a turkey that was "organic." And like Match said, how does she know that every bug that turkey ate was "organic?" How does she know that one of them didn't happen to get sprayed at some point, but just not enough to die? 

I told her that I believed that the fact that people were so willing to throw money away at an idea was signalling the end of the world. 

She agreed and shared another example with me that is really unimportant, because we then decided that the other sign was that men no longer have the ability to be men.

Seriously, if one more person tells me that I need to be the one who makes the move on a guy, I'm going to burn this place to the ground!

When did we get away from men courting women? Why do we only have a culture of "hanging out" and seeing where it goes? I don't want to hang out with you. I can hang out with my friends. If I want to date you, I want to go on dates with you. Obviously, we will be "hanging out" together on these dates. But I want them to be purposeful hang-outs. And I want you to ask me on dates. 

This is not too much to ask. I want a man to be a man. I want to be the woman in the relationship. I'm not saying that we can't be partners, but I want to be courted in the beginning. Show me that you want to be with me.

I woke up this morning and I was thinking about it some more. And here's what it comes down to:

I deserve to be with someone who wants to take me on dates. Who wants to spend time with me, and not just when he's had a few drinks to give him the courage to ask. I may like him, but I like me more. And I'm not settling for less than what I deserve.

Hitting Reset

Way back around the time I was in college, Bridezilla and I decided that November was going to be "our month."

I can't necessarily remember the events surrounding us deciding that we needed a month to believe that everything was going to go our way, but it happened and it was November.

This morning I woke up and decided that I am going back to that! November is going to be my month. I am hitting the reset button and things are going to go my way.

I let October get me down and I need to get back in control. Of everything. Eating. Working out. Just being me.

Starting right this moment, I am focussing on me and me alone for the next month. I am going to eat clean. Limit my alcohol intake (I'm not sure I'm ready to give it up all together). Prioritize my workouts. Add some additional workouts in during the week. Maybe start yoga.

If you catch me being negative. Slap me.

If you catch me eating sugar. Slap it out of my hand.

If you hear me making excuses for not working out. Say something.

Let's do this shit, November!

Real Talk and Triathlons

I have a story to tell you. I'll get to that.

First, a couple of weeks ago I posted a Throwback Thursday picture on my Instagram of Granny B and I on our trip around the Northeast, and one of you commented on it that you loved reading my blogs from that trip.

That comment prompted me to go back and read those blogs and laugh hysterically. And realize how much I missing blogging. This really is like my journal.

The thing is though, other people don't read your journals, so you don't monitor what you say or worry about it not being good enough. These are just excuses - real writers don't care. They write for themselves.

That's another thing that 34 years have taught me, do the things you love to do for yourself. I have to stop worrying about what other people think. Or what their goals are. Or what successes they have had. They aren't doing their things for me. I shouldn't do mine for them.

I am a work-in-progress. Today, more than ever, I can realize that.

I recently became closer to an acquaintance and as we have gotten to know each other better, we have learned things about each other. One thing is that we are very similar and sometimes I think we share a brain. The other thing I have learned from her is that I am actually very mean to myself.

I exude confidence to the people I am not close to and I would love to tell you that confidence carries through everything, but the truth is - I am VERY hard on myself. I am learning to be better. I am learning to love every part of me.

It's a battle.

I still worry every day that I will not leave a mark on this world that I can be proud of. I worry that I will disappoint my parents and grandparents. I worry that I am not living up to my full potential. 

I have to stop worrying and just start living. 

Now, your story...

A long time ago I set a goal to complete a sprint triathlon. About a month ago, I achieved that goal.

To say that I was scared out of my mind would be the understatement of the year. On Saturday, when I had to go pick up my race packet and check-in my bike, I thought my heart was going to explode.

On Sunday morning, I started my triathlon in Tempe Town Lake. For those of you who don't know - this is not a lake you would choose to swim in on any other occasion. The water was so cloudy that when you put your hand into it, it disappeared. Wearing goggles was just a formality because you seriously couldn't see anything if you wanted to. We were swimming into the sun so the glare off the water made it virtually impossible to see even the boy where we were supposed to turn. People were running into other people, I got felt up at least four times in the first 100 meters, it was a logistical nightmare!

Finally, the crowd clears out and I make it to the first buoy. I think, here's my chance to make up some time. And I start swimming freestyle. Bad move, Airplane. Bad damn move.

Next thing I know, I look up and I'm totally off course. Apparently, when you turned the first buoy, you were supposed to swim diagonally to the next one - it wasn't a square. Shit! Time to give up the freestyle, put the goggles on my head, and breast stroke the remainder of the swim.

I get out of the water and run into the transition area to dry off, get dressed, and start the bike portion of the race. I'm feeling pretty good. I get out of transition in about four minutes and I'm off on the course. About two miles in, I get a flat tire. I wish I was kidding.

Long story short, I walk my bike up to the nearest police officer and ask where I can get air in my bike. He lets me know that there is one support truck (for 1400 racers) and he will call it. It takes at least 40 minutes for the support truck to finally pull up, they load me and my bike into it and off we go to bike repair. On the way to the repair tent, the driver tells me that if they can fix it he will take me back to where he picked me up and I can finish the race.

Part of me was hoping they couldn't fix it.

They could. New tube and I'm off again. Pretty sure I'm the last person on the course, I decide that I'll just cut it a bit short. You see, there was a super sprint distance and their bike turnaround was right past transition and about 6 miles closer than mine.

I come around the corner still planning to cheat a bit, and the freaking support truck driver is there picking up signs. I can't turn around now - he'll know I cheated. Damn!

I ride on. Then I saw someone in front of me on their bike - I'm not going to be the last person on this course, so I speed up and pass her. Victory!

I finally finish the bike portion and put my hat on for the run. Again, the super sprint distance had a shorter run - I think, I'll just take their route. 

One problem, I have no idea what their route is and there is no good signage. Foiled again, I proceed to finish the 3.1 mile "run." Which was really more of a fast-paced walk for me.

But the moral of the story is: I finished! I finished a sprint triathlon under my goal time (if you subtract the time that I had to stand around waiting). But I'm not sure I'll ever do that again.

Things 34 Years Have Taught Me

I have written this post in my head at least a dozen times. It is truly the bane of my writing that inspiration and words come to me at the most inopportune times. Like when I'm driving down the road and can not jot down my thoughts.

Being 34 and a single woman is interesting. I am certainly not the only single 34-year-old woman on the planet. I'm not even the only one I know. But for some people, meeting me is like encountering a unicorn - and they just can't understand me. 

But the thing is, that's not very important to me. What matters most to me is that I know myself. And know myself, I do.

Having the opportunity to be unapologetically who I am (be that good or bad) for so long has taught me a few things. Now these things may not make sense for everyone, but they make sense for me and I want to write them down.

So here it is, in no particular order:

There is a good chance that not everyone will like me. As a matter of fact, it is inevitable. However, I can not change who I am to suit another. And in many cases, there is no reason and no solution for someone not wanting to be my friend. That is ok.

My sisters may make me crazy (and I can assure you that I make them crazy), but when my world is crumbling around me, there aren't many places that comfort me like being in their presence.

Lipstick makes all the difference. I shunned it for so long, but the truth is, it completes a look and Match.mom was right.

Never let an opportunity pass you by twice. Especially if you had regrets the first time. There is a reason that it comes around again.

Don't let someone else define your beauty. This one is a constant struggle, my friends. But I won't give up.

People will be quick to judge and criticize the things that they don't understand or that make them uncomfortable. That is on them.

My family is the best around. For too long I have taken for granted how lucky I am that my parents are loving, giving, and stable. Everyone does not have that in their lives.

Success means something different to every person. I can not judge my own success by there standards. I can only decide what I want and get it.

A lot of problems can be solved with a bottle of wine and good friends.

Mother's Day

In just about 30 minutes, it will be Mother's Day here in Arizona.

I'm not going to go on and on about how Match is the best mom around and better than every other mom, even though you all are going to say yours are the best. Even though I could, because she is.

But as I approach my 35th year on this earth, I can tell you that she inspires me every day. 

I honestly can't think of a time in my life where I dreamt of being a mother. I don't think I'm one of those people who always knew that is what I was meant to be. I can't recall ever being the person who NEVER wanted children, I was just indifferent to the idea.

Don't get me wrong, I've thought of potential names for my unborn children. And I've thought about how I would raise them, but I can't say that it was my calling from a young age. It was just one of those things that I thought about occasionally.

But as I approach "advanced maternal age" and the thought of potentially never having children crosses my mind, I think about motherhood much more now than I ever have.

I hate to admit that there was a time in my life when I was pretty sure Match had no idea what she was talking about. I guess we all go through that stage with our parents, but each day that I live, I realize that she is pretty damn smart. 

My mom has been there for me every step of the way. She has encouraged me through decisions that were not easy, and cheered me on through my triumphs. She has dried more tears than I'm willing to admit, and kicked my ass into gear when I needed it most.

Today, there is not much I look forward to more than having a glass of wine (or vodka) with her on a Friday evening. Or just chatting on the phone after a shitty day.

Some day, God willing, I will become a mom, and I know that there is probably no way I will ever live up to her. But I also know that she has taught me more about life than I deserve to know and I am overly blessed to call her my Match.mom.

I love you, Match. I can't imagine life without you!

A New Year

One year ago today, we lost Haytachi. By all accounts, it has been a rough year.

But today, on the anniversary of our loss, we also celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus. To me that is not a coincidence.

The message that I have taken from this Lenten season is that death has no power over me.

There is sadness and grief that surround the losses of the past year, but there is a joy in knowing that they are not the end. 

I have always heard Match say that in her family, funerals were celebrations. (And admittedly when we took family pictures at Popie's funeral lunch, my cousins and I were a little weirded out.) But I don't think it was until this Lenten season that I truly understood the concept.

So, today, is the beginning of my new year. And it is going to be a good one!

Why I CrossFit

I know that there are a multitude of articles out there about why CrossFit is bad. And why people hate it. And I've read quite a few of them. And they all make my blood pressure rise.

And the truth is that those of you reading this are my family and friends who already know why I CrossFit or how I feel about it, but I just had to write it down.

In the beginning, I did CrossFit because a friend from college was posting about it on Facebook and it sounded awesome.

Then Banana bought a 12-class punch card at the local gym, but before she could use it, Bunner got a new job and they moved to the other side of town. And in a manner totally unlike any fitness institution I have ever visited, they let her transfer those classes to me.

That was over three years ago. 

Since the moment I walked into the gym for my first WOD - Run 400m, Row 500m, Run 400m, Row 500m - I have been encouraged by the coaches at the gym. 

I CrossFit because on the days when a skill is failing me, my classmates rally around me and offer me tips to get better.

I CrossFit because on the days when I hit a PR, everyone cheers for me.

For the first time in my fitness life, I can see the changes in my body. I can feel the strength that I am gaining. I can record my victories.

I CrossFit because the community is amazing. Because when I am out of town and get the courage to go to another gym (even though I wouldn't consider myself a "cross fitter" because of my weaknesses), the coaches and patrons of those gyms cheer for me just as loudly as my own coaches and classmates.

I have worked with a number of trainers, some of whom are still my friends, but I have never worked with people like my CrossFit coaches who try to understand me as an individual and work with me to use my strengths and weaknesses to achieve my goals.

I CrossFit because I love it. I wake up at 4:15 four mornings a week (even on my day off) because I have never finished a lift or a WOD and thought, I wish I would have stayed in bed instead of doing that.

And for me, the love of the game is one of the most important things. Because when I'm feeling down because I think I should be smaller or stronger or more gymnasty, if I didn't love it, I would quit. 

I know that CrossFit isn't for everyone - that doesn't stop me from trying to get them to give it a shot. I would love it if my entire family went to CrossFit with me, but that isn't realistic nor is it my reality.

I CrossFit because I know that I am building a body that I can be proud of. I know that I am living healthier than I have ever lived before. And I know that I have a gym and a worldwide community full of people who get that.

I CrossFit because I can.

The "Situation"

There is something that I have been avoiding telling all of you.

For no reason other than I don't want to have to answer any questions about it.

I am online dating again.

I really struggle between the two arguments of dating:

1. You'll find someone when you aren't looking.

b. You have to put yourself out there.

Honestly, I think that it is all bullshit. I think you just have to do what feels right and live life. So that's what I'm doing.

I signed back up for eHarmony and signed away my first born child. (Seriously, this shit doesn't come cheap.)

And with Match's words in mind, You have to stop finding reasons to not date people, I started this crazy process.

There have been some bumps along the way, some shady characters, some far-reaches, and one person I refused to answer based solely on his picture. Motorcycles and bathrooms selfies I may let slip by, but if the only picture you have posted is an animation of the Archangel Michael, I'm out!

I've tried to go into this with the realization that not everyone is going to like me, but that is ok because I'm not going to like everyone. 

With all that being said, let's get to the situation.

A couple of weeks ago, a gentleman from Tucson initiated communication. I wasn't thrilled with the fact that he lived in Tucson, but hearing Match's voice in my ear made me respond. 

So we made it through to the open communication stage and sent a few emails back and forth.

Nothing earth-shattering, but nothing that made me want to hide my profile and block him from every communicating again.

Then he sends a message and at the end of it says, "There's something that I've been wanting to ask you: I am enjoying communicating with you, but obviously there is some distance between us. What are your thoughts on this?"

I respond that while I don't think the distance is ideal, I also don't think it is an insurmountable issue.

A couple of days later he emails back that he thinks it is too early to decide either way and he will be in Phoenix visiting a friend over the weekend and would I like to get coffee.

I agree to coffee. We meet for coffee. Things go fine.

Again, nothing earth-shattering, but we have a nice conversation. He's pretty nerdy and a little awkward, but I'm used to this so I roll with it.

Then it's time to say goodbye and it just kind of ends. A couple of "nice to meet yous," but no plans for future meetings or follow-up.

I assume we won't talk again. I wasn't really motivated by our meeting or previous communication to reach out, and I figured he felt the same.

So you can imagine my surprise when I get a text out of the blue a couple of days later. 

Again, I would like to reiterate that since I walked away from him at the coffee shop I have not tried to communicate with him. I have not viewed his profile online. I have not sent a text. I have not emailed. 

Him: Hey. It was nice meeting you this weekend. Have you given any thought to our situation?

Wait, what? You guys, we honestly didn't even talk about the "situation" while having coffee. No mention of the distance. No discussion of thinking about it. I mean, we were on a first date at coffee, for the love of Pete.

But again, I'm trying to be open-minded and let things work out the way they should so I respond.

Me: It was nice meeting you as well. I guess for me the distance doesn't seem insurmountable - I wouldn't say that I often travel between the two cities now, but I have in the past. What do you think?

Him: Honestly the distance for me was kind of rough. It just seems like it would be a lot of traveling for both of us and that wouldn't be fair to either one of us. I would prefer to stay in Tucson.

So why are we having this conversation? I didn't ask you to leave Tucson on a permanent basis. I didn't even ask you to leave Tucson to have coffee with me.

I don't understand. 

One friend told me that it sounded like he was breaking up with me.

I told him, "In that case, I'm going to respond, 'I don't think this is going anywhere. We should probably break up.'"

Self-Fulfilling Prophecies

When I was in college (I think), in a psychology class (I think), I learned about something called self-fulfilling prophecy. I don't remember all of the ins and outs of it, and I'm not really willing to look it up, but we can safely say that the gist of it is, if you think something is going to happen a certain way, it generally will.

Basically, your attitude determines your results. In everything.

If, for example, you think/say that every time you travel your flights are delayed or your bags are lost or something bad happens; the chances are good that when you travel one of those things will happen.

I will admit to being guilty of this. I have said, "that will never work for me." And it didn't.

"He'll never go for a girl like me." And he didn't.

"They won't hire me." And they didn't.

It's not that I didn't try for those things I wanted, but I mentally sabotaged myself. Even if I didn't realize it at the time.

I recently told someone, "I have a hard time feeling bad for people who create the situation they are in, which I am expected to feel bad for."

The time is now to think positive. To say, "I can do that."

"I will do that."

"This is going to be amazing!"

Sin Pesar

I really try to live my life without regret. Unfortunately, today that is impossible.

I don't think that I mentioned before that I am currently vacationing in Europe. I flew from Phoenix to Frankfurt, stayed there for a couple of days, then flew to Madrid (where I am now) for five days. Tomorrow I will fly back to Frankfurt, spend two more nights and then head home.

As part of the trip, today we took the fast train to Segovia from Madrid. For this entire trip, we have been looking for cute men for me. Why? Why not?

So today, an American man got on the train and sat across the aisle from Tela. He was with two older couples - I couldn't tell if they were family or friends or what. From what I gathered, he is living in Madrid and they were out to visit.

He was VERY good looking. But I was by the window and Tela was sleeping so I didn't talk to him. Then we got off the train and they ended up behind us in line for the bus. I almost asked where they were from when chaos ensued and I missed my chance. He went to see what was happening on the other bus while Tela spoke to the driver of the bus we were in line for. Turns out we wanted the other bus and they wanted the current bus.

Foiled again.

At the end of the day we end up back at the train station and in the cafe who do we see? The American. There was really no way to talk to him, based on the seating arrangement, so I was hoping he would sit next to us on the train home.

No such luck.

They were in a different car.

Then we ended up heading down to the Metro at the same time, but my type A personality had me walking at an extreme rate of speed and he and his group missed the Metro by like 45 seconds. He looked as upset as I felt.

All I can think about now is why I didn't initiate a conversation when I had the chance.

Let's Get Physical...Therapy

As you know, I CrossFit.

You know this because: 

So, way back in 2005 or something, I was in a golf cart accident with BFL in which we flipped a golf cart over on its side and my right ankle ended up under the bar. 

It was an altogether bad situation in which my foot/ankle looked like this at the end of the night. 

It actually got worse than that, but I quit taking pictures. I had a number of x-rays done, but there were no breaks or features and it eventually healed. (Though you can still kind of see the scar from where the bar burnt me.)

So, since then I've had a few problems with my ankle. Nothing serious, just knew it was there if you know what I mean.

There are certain movements in CrossFit that are worse than others and my pistols are pretty bad because of a lack of flexibility of that ankle.

Additionally, in the last three months or so, I've kind of had a nagging pain in my right hip/lower back area. 

So, I decided to break down and see someone about it.

That someone happened to be the hot coach at the gym. Who also happens to be a doctor of physical therapy.

I didn't think anything was seriously wrong, but I was hoping he could recommend a few stretches and we could work out a program that will get me back in top form. 

So flash forward to last week. I show up at the gym for my session and meet up with the coach. (Did I mention he's hot?!?!)

I know him well enough that I'm not uncomfortable talking to him, but I also don't mind it when he takes his shirt off.

He's also like 8 years younger than me, but that is neither here nor there.

We get the session started with a short assessment. I explain to him the issues, he has me do a couple of exercises. He asks me to walk away from him and then walk back towards him.

I do that. When I get back to him he says, "How are you with running?" I ask, "Like as far as pain?" He says, "Yes. I know you're a very good runner." I melt into a puddle on the floor. (I just love it when people compliment my semi-athletic abilities.)

(In other news one of the guys at the gym told me this morning that I'm very impressive with power and agility movements. I open-mouth kissed him. Just kidding. But I did blush.)

So, then we go back to his "office" where he asks me to lay on the table, face up. I follow his instructions, and as is customary for me when I lay down, I close my eyes. He messes with my ankles, stretches out my legs, moves around a little, no big deal.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, he moves up to basically push on the edges of my pelvis.

Now I want you to stop right here and take a minute to familiarize yourself with where exactly that is on your own body. 

Now I want you to think about the last time someone touched you there without warning.

Now I want you to imagine he looks like this:

So, I made it through that. He had me get off of the table and do a couple more exercises. Then he told me to get back on the table, laying on my stomach, with my toes hanging off the edge of the table.

Fine. I can manage this.

He starts again stretching out my ankles. Then he is feeling my calf muscles. Things are going great.

Then he moves up to my spine and kind of massages up to the middle of my back and then pops my back. Nice.

Then...he touched the butt.

Seriously, all I could think about was that line on Nemo when he touches the boat and the little baby octopus says, "He touched the butt, he touched the butt."

At this point, I don't even know what is happening. He kind of rolls the top of my pants down and I assume he is going to massage my lower back/hip area. 

Then he asks, "Are you on any medication? Blood thinners or clotting meds?"

Uh, no.

"How's your blood pressure?"

Normally? Or right now after you touched my butt?

Then we moved into a dry-needling session, which was mostly awesome, and then there was a soft tissue massage on my calf muscles.

I told one of the girls that goes to 5 am with me that I almost felt like I needed to pay extra.