Two months ago, I ran up 3,450 vertical feet over six miles with a spunky girl named Courtney Abbott. As soon as I saw her at the pre-race briefing--with her bright smile and platinum-blonde pixie cut--I knew we could be friends. Lo and behold, our paths crossed within the first twenty minutes of the race, when a voice from behind me said "Hey! You ran Boston this year? So did I!" Thank goodness I wore the running tights I bought at Boston's race expo, otherwise Courtney and I might never have met.
For six miles, we talked about our lives. She travels the world teaching sex education via comedy theater--which is perhaps the best job I have ever heard of (she's currently on her way home from a "quick" two-week trip to Cambodia). I loved Courtney because, aside from her vibrant personality and the occasional swear word (kindred spirits!), she was genuine, poised, and wise beyond her years.
I visited her blog today and came across a post that was just what I needed to hear. It so captures a lot of the emotions I have been feeling recently, and helped me make a little more sense out of my twenty-something years.
I echo Courtney's plea: Everyone, please pardon my dust. Especially Brock.
Thank you, lovey, for putting up with my "endless demolition and construction." For loving me even though I didn't say "I love you" back at first. For sticking around when I broke up with you for three days (haha). For standing by me when I changed my major during my senior year of college. And when I added a minor that would cost us $10,000 and four months in a dirty, crowded city in the Middle East. And for being willing to come with me to that city and, in doing so, postpone law school for a full year. Thank you for giving up your Summer 2011 to allow me to intern in DC. Thank you being patient with me when I wanted to be a Foreign Service Officer. And for being excited for me when I passed the FSOT, even though I knew you were secretly praying that I wouldn't make it through the QEPs (turns out your prayers are potent!). Thanks for not throwing me out a window when I told you that I wanted to go to grad school in Azerbaijan, and then again when I suggested we join the Peace Corps (I still think we'd be great at it). Thanks for going vegetarian with me last year, even though we only lasted a few months. Thank you for putting your foot down when I wanted to spend $3,000 on a three-day trip to Florence for us to model wedding clothes in a Jasmine Star photoshoot. Thank you for pretending you liked my purple hair. Thank you for dreaming with me, and for helping me make a detailed month-by-month itinerary of our yet-to-be-realized 14-month trip around the world. Thanks for driving me all over the mountains throughout the summer as I trained for my ultra. And although I'm still a little bitter that you won't let me join the Marines, I have a feeling that I'll thank you for that one day, too.
Dang. That's a lot of dust.
If you're still reading: Congrats. That probably classifies you as either my mom or dad.
Today I called to cancel an appointment with a Marine Corps recruiter. I told him that I wasn't going to waste his time because no matter what I said or did, my husband would never concede.
"Oh, I see. Husband keepin' you from fulfilling your dreams, eh?"
His response really bothered me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is a fine line between tying a person down and holding a person down. Brock is my anchor, but not in the sense that he keeps me from going wherever or doing whatever I want; rather, he keeps me grounded in a good place.
He is the good place. He will always be the good place.
For six miles, we talked about our lives. She travels the world teaching sex education via comedy theater--which is perhaps the best job I have ever heard of (she's currently on her way home from a "quick" two-week trip to Cambodia). I loved Courtney because, aside from her vibrant personality and the occasional swear word (kindred spirits!), she was genuine, poised, and wise beyond her years.
I visited her blog today and came across a post that was just what I needed to hear. It so captures a lot of the emotions I have been feeling recently, and helped me make a little more sense out of my twenty-something years.
I echo Courtney's plea: Everyone, please pardon my dust. Especially Brock.
Thank you, lovey, for putting up with my "endless demolition and construction." For loving me even though I didn't say "I love you" back at first. For sticking around when I broke up with you for three days (haha). For standing by me when I changed my major during my senior year of college. And when I added a minor that would cost us $10,000 and four months in a dirty, crowded city in the Middle East. And for being willing to come with me to that city and, in doing so, postpone law school for a full year. Thank you for giving up your Summer 2011 to allow me to intern in DC. Thank you being patient with me when I wanted to be a Foreign Service Officer. And for being excited for me when I passed the FSOT, even though I knew you were secretly praying that I wouldn't make it through the QEPs (turns out your prayers are potent!). Thanks for not throwing me out a window when I told you that I wanted to go to grad school in Azerbaijan, and then again when I suggested we join the Peace Corps (I still think we'd be great at it). Thanks for going vegetarian with me last year, even though we only lasted a few months. Thank you for putting your foot down when I wanted to spend $3,000 on a three-day trip to Florence for us to model wedding clothes in a Jasmine Star photoshoot. Thank you for pretending you liked my purple hair. Thank you for dreaming with me, and for helping me make a detailed month-by-month itinerary of our yet-to-be-realized 14-month trip around the world. Thanks for driving me all over the mountains throughout the summer as I trained for my ultra. And although I'm still a little bitter that you won't let me join the Marines, I have a feeling that I'll thank you for that one day, too.
Dang. That's a lot of dust.
***
If you're still reading: Congrats. That probably classifies you as either my mom or dad.
Today I called to cancel an appointment with a Marine Corps recruiter. I told him that I wasn't going to waste his time because no matter what I said or did, my husband would never concede.
"Oh, I see. Husband keepin' you from fulfilling your dreams, eh?"
His response really bothered me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is a fine line between tying a person down and holding a person down. Brock is my anchor, but not in the sense that he keeps me from going wherever or doing whatever I want; rather, he keeps me grounded in a good place.
He is the good place. He will always be the good place.
You'll be a good mother.
ReplyDeleteEven though you see it as fatalistic you'll take the same drive to accomplish and change course at a moments notice and incorporate it into parenting. Kids force you to become things you didn't know you could be.