28

Friday marked my 28th birthday. Although 28 isn't a traditionally momentous birthday, I thought I'd take some time to reflect on where I've been, where I'm at, and where I'm going.

I blog a lot about my father and from anyone who knows me, that's no surprise, because I talk about him a lot too. Last year, my father passed less than a month before my 27th birthday. I was so consumed in the planning and arranging that his passing entailed, I'm not sure it really felt like he was gone when my birthday came around. I think I was still in shock, I still felt like he was on some lengthy business trip and would be calling to wish me a Happy Birthday any minute.

So when my birthday rolled around this past Friday, it was a very emotionally-fueled day for me. It felt like the first birthday my Dad had missed and his absence felt like the weight of a ton of bricks. Everything set me off, I spent a good chunk of my day in tears. It almost felt like I was watching myself from the outside, wondering, why on Earth I was so upset. I was an emotional runaway train and not much could stop it. After talking with my mom later in the day, I realized what my problem was - I missed my Dad and everything he did to make me feel special. I missed all the "little things." I'm not sure I will ever not miss the little things . . . but I hope to one day smile because they happened, instead of crying because they're gone. Until then, as they say, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to!

Someone, probably my brother, reminded me that only 20 percent of my twenties now remain. That's kind of scary. Look, I'll be the first person to admit, 28 is not old, but it's not young either. With 30 just two years away, I think my goal this year is to take stock of what I've accomplished and what I have left to do, so I don't end up missing out on what I'm really after.

If you asked me ten years ago, where I thought I'd be today, I'm not entirely sure I would have had a great answer. A few things I am sure of though . . . I definitely thought I'd be married with a child by 30. I walked into college expecting I'd meet my future husband and then get married shortly after graduation. Clearly that was not in the cards for me. Some days I'm totally okay with that - I know I'm definitely not ready to have children - and I know being single has afforded me some great opportunities. I often think, if I had been married young, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to spend so much time with my parents as an adult. I spent a lot of weekends with my parents, vacationed with them, volunteered with them. I had the unique opportunity to spend such quality time with my Dad before he passed, that had I been married with my own family, I'm not sure I would have been so lucky.

As "okay" as I am with being single, at the same time, it's a lonely proposition. As more and more of my friends end up in relationships, engaged, and married, sometimes I do wonder, "What is wrong with me?" It's also become a bit of a chore to continually answer the lengthy questioning of family and friends, "Are you seeing anyone?" "Why not?" "Have you tried online dating?" No, if I knew I wouldn't be single, and not interested. And yes, I know the line, "A watched pot never boils." I know I can't worry about it, but sometimes it's not that easy. I suppose what I really need to do first, is to learn to love myself, so I can be more open to others . . .which leads me to this next revelation . . .

Body image has been a real issue for me over the years. If people could hear how I talk to myself about how I look, they'd probably be appalled. I think as a kid, I always assumed I'd get to a point where I was happy and comfortable with my body, but sadly, at 28, I'm still struggling. It amazes me how much a number on the scale can throw off my entire day, how compulsive I am about weighing myself, and how much I beat myself up about what, when, or how much I eat. I see a totally different person staring back at me in the mirror - she's fat, ugly, has huge arms, massive shoulders, it's really terrible. No matter how much I work out, no matter how far I can run, how much I can lift, or how athletic I might be, I still see a fat girl in the mirror. This could be an entire blog post in itself and it probably will be at some point, but suffice it to say, that my goal as I round out my twenties is to reach a place of acceptability when it comes to my body. I want to appreciate my body for all it can do instead of continually pointing out the negatives. I want to feel comfortable in who I am, regardless of what I weigh or don't weigh.

But, instead of lamenting on all the things I haven't accomplished yet...what are some things I have?

Well, I've been blessed to finally have an incredibly supportive and caring group of friends. I may not be the most popular person in the world, but I do have people I trust and can count on. People who love me regardless of what mood I might be in or how stressed out I can be. People who accept my flaws and encourage me on a regular basis. My dad always said, "You can count your real friends on one hand, " and as I've gotten older, I've come to realize how true that really is.

I have had the opportunity at 28 to travel the world. I've had the chance to see some amazing places, frame some beautiful photos, and share my travels with friends and family. I've seen more of the world in 28 years, than some people see their entire lives. For that I am truly blessed and grateful.

I've done well in school, completed my master's and been pretty successful in my career. I've had amazing career opportunities and there's more to come. I'm not sure what company I would have said I'd be working for if you asked me ten years ago, but I am very glad to be working for the one I do. I'm also really glad I figured out pretty quickly that living the life of Carrie Bradshaw was not for me. I've always done what has felt right and its paid off every time. I'm thankful for that. I've never shied away from an opportunity (which isn't to say I haven't needed a little push here and there) and have always been willing to try something new. It's made me a bit of a wanderer (which I also get from my father), but it's also made for a really exciting and interesting life.

I have a wonderful family - not many people can say their parents are their best friends, but I am blessed to say just that. I have hobbies and interests that keep me motivated (whether that's crossfit or running races or movies or the beach). I find time to give back and volunteer, which has helped immensely this past year.

So, at 28, things aren't perfect. They are far from it. I have bills, fights with family or friends, a sick puppy from time to time, so much stress I feel like my head might explode, and days where I am so overcome with grief about my Dad, all I can do is cry. But, I'm here. I'm still putting one foot in front of the other and trying to make a difference in this life.

I'm still a work in progress, but at the end of the day, life is good and I'm going to spend the next two years, trying to make it even better, before I hit the next birthday milestone. Thanks for joining me on the ride.

Puppy Lessons

So it's June. Not really sure where this year has gone...hard to believe it's half over and what a half year it has been. Believe it or not, I'm already ready for 2014.

But with that said, one of the joys in my life, Finn, is growing like a weed! And boy what an education this little pup has given me. Let me share with you the lessons I've learned in just the past two and a half months Finn has graced me with his ever excited presence.

1. I am in no way ready to have children . . . like seriously - The first few weeks after bringing Finn home, I felt like a new parent. I was sleep deprived, getting up every couple of hours to let Finn out. I was cranky, stressed, wondering what was I thinking? I dealt with accidents, both small and large, chewed up shoes and other items, crying at night, the whole gambit. It was hard...it still is, although it's getting easier. He even whines! He makes the most childish noises, it's hilarious, but also incredibly frustrating! So while I do hope to have my own blessed little bundles of joy . . .one day . . . that day is no where near close!

2. Puppies = Friends - Let's be honest, Finn is the cutest dog ever. People yards away notice him and come running. If I had a penny for every time someone told me he was the "cutest dog I've ever seen." I'd be a million aware twice over. And as such, he's helped me to get to know my neighbors better. In fact, I think my neighbors know Finn better than they know me. The minute we walk out the door, I hear people shouting his name. He's a full blown celebrity.

3. No household item is safe - Although the chewing has subsided substantially, all items, small and large, were prey for Finn. Especially flip flops, underwear, bras, socks, sunglasses, the works. Even when I think I've put everything safely out of reach, Finn manages to sniff it out. Thank goodness he's growing out of this stage.

4. I need a bigger bed - I left Finn with my mother while I was on a work trip. When I came back, he was no longer a "sleep in your crate dog." Instead, she turned him into a "I must sleep in your bed dog." Let's just say I wasn't thrilled. Especially since Finn is a mover. He readjusts positions at least thirty times at night...we're trying to carve out one spot for him to stick too...it's working, slowly. But with that said, my mother has a queen bed, so it's much roomier than my little full. Needless to say, I'll be upgrading shortly.

5. When dogs disappear, they're usually up to no good - In fact, they're probably pooping, or chewing your underwear or bra, eating your computer cord. . . Moral of this little story, puppies are not trustworthy!

I can't say I've kept my cool through all of this. There have been moments where I've said to myself, "What the hell were you thinking?" But mostly, I really love this little guy. Especially when he gives you that look . . . you know the look. That's all I need to reaffirm why I brought this little man into my life afterall.

26.2

Gosh, who would have thought a marathon would have taken so much out of me, physically, mentally, and emotionally. With that said, I'm happy to report that I completed the marathon! That's right, this body took me a whole 26.2 miles and I crossed the finish line.

And here's all the gory details: The Saturday a week before my marathon, I went on a quick, three-mile taper run...not even a mile into the run, I hit a piece of uneven ground and as luck would have it, I sprained my ankle. After screaming a couple of expletives, pain and disappointment induced of course, I hobbled back to my parents' house. After making my way to the chair and icing my ankle, I just burst into tears. I had trained so long and so far for this marathon and a week before, I sprain my ankle. Go figure.

The following Monday, I hopped on a plane to Orlando for a big work event, with my ankle wrapped tightly, still painful and still swollen. I got through the week, although on very limited sleep and not without some major travel disruptions (including a cancelled flight, waiting on the tarmac for an hour, another six hour delay, lost luggage, etc.). My ankle was still black and blue and still swollen, but I had put in so much effort and just couldn't let this injury sideline me.

So the race began...I felt alright, although my quads were super tight. Around mile nine, I re-twisted my ankle, which was painful. I kept running. At mile twelve, my ankle gave out again. I kept running. By mile 16 or so, I was hobbling/jogging, but I kept going. Around mile 22 I had a mini breakdown, wondering if the race would ever end. I started to tear up. I asked God to just help me through it, and as if he knew I needed it, a song that means so much to me, "Be Still," by The Fray started playing on my iPod. At that point, I just knew I had to keep going...and keep going I did. It took me six hours...should have taken me a little less than five, but with the ankle, I was just happy to cross the finish line. My friends and brother cheered me on the entire way - meeting me at every check point with their homemade signs, screaming for me to keep going, and even breaking out into song at one point - Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'." I couldn't have done it without them.

After the race, I could barely walk. My brother had to half carry me to the car and throughout the next few days I can honestly say, I have never been so sore in my life. I couldn't stand up or sit down without incredible pain in my legs. Even as I slept, whenever I turned over, my body would scream with pain. A week and half out though, I'm starting to feel better, although I still have some hip pain and oddly enough, my feet still hurt a bit in the mornings. My ankle is still swollen, although the black and blue has subsided. I'm still debating if it's worth heading to the doctor, because my gut is telling me I might have a stress fracture. I'm testing it out tonight at the gym, for the first time in a week.

Although my plan was to run one marathon and then stick with half-marathons and shorter, I'm not so sure that's the case. I really want know what I'm really made of and knowing my time should have been so much better, I think I'll starting training again come the spring. I can honestly say I'm not looking forward to the sores all over my back, the endless long distance runs, the gu chomps and gels...but there's nothing that compares to crossing the finish line knowing you just ran 26.2 miles - no one can ever take that away from you, no matter what the time was, no matter the circumstance...I proudly display my 26.2 sticker on my car, despite it all.

Until the next race  . . .