hard to part

running in my new shoes today, i felt like i was skipping over clouds, as light as air and as graceful as a ballerina floating on stage. they were invigorating, if you can describe shoes that way. but as i took them off and placed them next to my previous pair of running shoes, i thought to myself: when am i going to get rid of these? and for that matter, when am i going to get rid of the other three pairs of torn-up, overly used shoes that are still piled in the closet?

there's something about my running shoes that makes it terribly difficult for me to let go. they are the physical manifestation of my time spent on the trails - every tear and flattened sole, a reflection of my feet pounding the surfaces in search of clarity. and then there's the pair of shoes that carried me through the finish line of my first half-marathon, and the other pair that helped me beat my race time in my second half-marathon.

i look at all my old running shoes as if they are time capsules, locking in the memories of challenges and triumphs, stressors and newfound freedom. but looking at this pile, i've come to the conclusion that these running shoes are just that - shoes. they are things, not the memories themselves. my heart and mind have already engrained the emotions from my running, and so with that, i'm finally going to let my shoes go.

my dear, sweet running shoes.

zombie

work is kicking my ass. BIG time.

it's just so busy.  crazy-busy.

on my days off, i start the day off with a run, or a swim, or spend some time at the ceramics studio just so i can clear my mind of the busyness.

and then i become a zombie and do things that don't require a life-or-death, on-the-edge-of-your-seat attention span. i do things like...

...listen to podcasts about toast; read articles about families who live in tiny spaces (don't knock 'til you've tried it); laugh way too hard through books written by david sedaris; nap in the morning and afternoon and right before bed; peruse through travel sites for good deals on airfare (something's gonna come up, i know); jam to some tunes as if they were written for me; and, really, my most favorite - be absolutely silent because i can.

i know it's just a season - The Hold-Onto-Your-Umbrellas-Beacause-It's-Raining-Babies Season - but when i'm not at work, dedicating myself to new life (!) and joyful celebration (!!), i give myself full permission to be a resting zombie.

meditating

this month, i've found myself in a particularly meditative state - something i once feared, but now savor. it was the sense of surrender that caught me off guard, the will and capacity to get lost in deep contemplation. how much easier it is to see the surface, to face the facts, and be on my merry way. but this month, i've felt this yearning to search within - to reflect, reminisce, and ask/seek/do the tough things.

i recently started pottery classes, which have been vital in allowing me to be more intentional about my thoughts. working on the wheel, i must focus and deliberate. i must use my entire body and strength to center my piece. i must use equal pressure in my fingers as i raise the sides. the moment i let something distract me, it becomes physically manifested in my work. meditation - pottery has certainly opened the door to mediation (and humility!). 

tomorrow marks the four-year anniversary that g and i met, and although we will be celebrating a whole new kind of anniversary in a couple of months (!!), i can't help but meditate on the importance of this day: july 25th. there will always be anniversaries for "the first kiss" or the "first time i said i love you." weddings are anniversaries in-and-of themselves, and who can negate the anniversary of your child's birth? but the day we met...how many people are celebrating that date with as much gusto?

july 25, 2010 changed the entire course of my life. it was the day i let someone in, and in so doing, learn about love. it was the day that would begin my journey through self-discovery, as i would soon realize that it's NOT all about me. i am forever thankful for that day, when the love of my life looked at me in the eyes and never turned away. 

july 25th is most definitely not a by-gone anniversary; rather, i celebrate it as the day that launched me to identify - and live - the very purpose of my life: to love and be loved.

happy anniversary, g. 

our first photo together, july 2010

our most recent photo together, july 2014

things are lookin' alright

once upon a year ago, i had a mad rush to move out of this city. the stress at work, the endless traffic, the self-entitled people with their imposing diet restrictions and manicured everything - i had enough of it. and when you have a picturesque dream city in mind (ahem, seattle), it makes the urge to move that much greater.

until now.

over this past year, i have come to re-appreciate this grand ol' city. my position at work has progressed, as i've earned my credibility as an L&D nurse. our home sweet home is truly one-of-a-kind, a hidden gem that feels like "us." the temperate weather that allows me to be outdoors all year long - running, hiking, swimming, sitting outside lazily embracing an afternoon tea.

and then there are these other things...

...like being a 5-hour drive from these spectacular views.

and eating, drinking, and napping outside.

going to world-renown venues (go bruins!!) to watch eclectic performances by creative people (can i get an eight-clap for ira glass?!)

and then there are those friends who are family, those few people who make this crazy city feel like home.

i had to grow up a bit to understand why i'm here, now. i had to open my eyes to the good around me, to the amazing opportunities in front of me, and to the love that was born in this very zip code. 

los angeles, i'll shut up now. thank you for putting up with my doubt. this is home. 

p.s. emma, if you read this, know that you were one of the firsts to help make this city feel like home. thank you for exploring our surroundings with me in college...those dates will always be cherished!

connections

to the older gentleman who noticed my preference for english breakfast tea as an early morning pick-me-up, thank you. thank you for starting a conversation about the differences between irish and english breakfast teas, reassuring me that there is, in fact, a difference. we totally connected this morning.

to the french gal standing behind me at the market, thank you. thank you for complementing my sandals and starting a conversation about our blissful santa monica weather. i am completely enamored with the morning fog, too. and your accent...take me back to paris. connection, success.

to the guy singing his heart out in the car next to mine, thank you. thank you for appreciating your music to the extent of letting it all out, being so focused so as to not pay attention to my own jam session. little do you know, guy in the prius, that we connected.

and to the employee at starbucks who refrained from hassling me about using the bathroom even though i wasn't a customer, thank you. thank you for noticing the panicked look on my face as i made a detour during my run, practically diving into the bathroom...sweaty as hell. for this connection, my bowels owe you everything.

even in the city where it seems impossible to connect with others, i'm finding that we are able to live in synergy...as long as i'm open to it.

the best part

"...and it occurred to me that the choices we're making each night, compiled, would surely say something about us - illuminate even the smallest part of this great unknown ahead of us..."

- The Gastronomy of Marriage

i've always considered dinnertime to be the best part of the day. from morning till evening (and quite possibly the day before), my mind spins madly with the possibilities for the night's meal. there's always been something alluring about stopping everything, sitting down at the table (or couch or bed), dimming the lights, and dedicating time to the final meal of the day. and it's during this time that i feel most connected to the people around me, that a story is in fact being written.

recently, g's work schedule has changed quite significantly. long gone are the days lounging around together, as we both had schedules that allowed us to boast about our midweek "weekends." all day, we would be planning for dinner - the theme, the ingredients, the wine pairing. nowadays we have limited time together, forcing us to plan quickly and prepare efficiently so as to avoid eating dinner past 9 pm. 

it's been a remarkable change, one that makes me evaluate the significance of dinnertime. i'd be lying if i said i haven't considered going our separate ways for dinner so that we could eat when it was most convenient for each of us. but then that's it - going down that route would strip us of the very value we share so dearly: the meal as ritual. 

we're learning how to adapt to this change in pace, and although not easy, i'm finding that it's well worth the effort. at the end of the day, there is nothing i would rather do than break bread with the man of my life, celebrating our nourished bodies, souls, and love.

the perimeter

lately, my choice running route has been the perimeter of ucla. it was my favorite trail in college for a few reasons: its proximity, its varying elevations, its average length, and the fact that it was the freakin' perimeter of a freakishly stunning campus (!!).

these days, i've seemed to chosen it for even more reasons.

it's comforting. it's like home. during the crazy-ass days when there are a million things on my mind, the ucla perimeter silences everything. it allows my body to take over. i have adapted to the terrain so much so that i know exactly when to conserve my energy (sunset blvd is a beast, yo). when i run past a particular wall of bushes, i can anticipate the scent of cinnamon toast crunch (don't even ask. to this day, i still don't know where that smell comes from). and after innumerable times running this trail, i know what times to avoid it so as not to be caught in direct sunlight while going uphill. it's muscle memory, if you will.

and as i run the perimeter today, in the present, i can't help but reminisce about the past - those days when i would come home to 11067 ophir, with emma baking some type of glorious treat and abby writing some massive, incomprehensible-to-the-average-jo-schmo paper. my heart swells with the purest joy.

with these specific memories, the freedom the trail brings, and the comfort knowing i have a forever home, i declare the ucla perimeter one helluva run.