I Run These Towns

I never believed in Santa Claus. My parents didn't tell us he wasn't real, but Santa wasn't a big focus in our house. As a logical child I never found the idea plausible: a lone man flying all the way around the world in his flying sleigh leaving presents for all the children? Gimme a break. That doesn't mean I didn't love Christmas or experience the joy and wonder of the season.  I would go with my dad to Joliff's Nursery to pick out our Christmas tree. Each year we'd try to get one bigger and better than the last. The biggest I remember had to have a rope tied around it and nailed to the wall to keep it upright. Classic Jones Christmas. My dad always decorated the tree with way too many icicles, and as a cat-loving family we'd often have cats regurgitating foil into the new year.  I remember lying in bed on Christmas Eve, my eyes wide open and heart pounding, certain I'd never fall asleep. I'd wake with a start early in the morning and boun

Nearly two years ago I wrote a blog about my impossible quest to be perfect. I had just lost my dad and was desperately seeking perspective. Nearly two years later, in the busiest time I've ever had in my entire life, I am still desperately and elusively seeking perspective. And this time I don't have running to anchor me and keep me sane. So I can't find perspective and am a little bit crazy. It's a tenuous situation. On December 1 I officially started my new job as Lansing's Mayor-Elect's Chief of Staff. It's been a whirlwind. People keep using the analogy "drinking from a fire hose" and frankly that'd be a lovely drink of water in comparison to what's really happening. It's been an absolute inundation of information and people. I'm working on two transitions: a public facing transition to engage as many Lansing residents as possible and an internal transition to actually get our team in city hall on January 1, 2018. It's b

I haven't blogged in a few weeks because life has been a whirlwind. My knee is healing well although I'm never a patient patient. I'm itching to run again, and given my progress I should be back to it in a month or so. I can't wait. Until then I'm just hanging out...doing nothing. I'm being very sarcastic. A few weeks ago, less than a week after my surgery, my good friend Andy won his election to be the new Mayor of Lansing beginning in January. He asked me to be his Chief of Staff. It's a dream job to work for someone I know and true and believe in and to work for my  city where I live and work and spend most of my time (in a ½ mile radius mostly). I am humbled by his faith in me and honored to join his team in January. But in order to manage the mental gymnastics this job will take, I need to be running again. I'm so excited to get back into city government. I still don't know exactly how a (very) small town girl became a fervent urban core cit

I've been under anesthesia approximately 30 times. That's as many times as I can remember, but in fairness all the anesthesia may have affected my memory. I had tubes in my ears three times as a kid, another ear surgery in high school, six Crohn's related abdominal surgeries, my wisdom teeth removed, an abscess drained, and more colonoscopies, sigmoidoscopies and endoscopies than I can count. Last week I added to the tally having a surgery to repair my torn meniscus.  Not running has really zapped my creativity. I use running to think about blogs I'm going to write and to calm all the thoughts rattling around in my head. Instead the last few weeks I've felt anxious about my upcoming surgery. Despite the number of surgeries I've had, having knee surgery made me more anxious than usual. My knee has really been hurting, but what if made it worse?  It turns out a knee scope is significantly less invasive than any of the Crohn's surgeries I've had. I spen

Let me start by saying I don't begrudge anyone wanting to supplement their income. I get the appeal of working on sales from home because it's flexible and a convenient way to make more money. But for the love of God please, friends, stop trying to sell me things. It's out of control. Growing up my mom was pretty anti sales parties. She didn't go to Avon or Tupperware parties (those were the big things back then). I remember her being annoyed by them, and I inherited that aversion to sales parties. I decided years ago that I wouldn't go to these parties. Over the years I've felt guilted by good friends to buy something because they were having a party, but I have very rarely actually attended any kind of sales party. (I've bought from a catalog or online). I cringe at the idea of sitting in a room full of women feeling like I have to buy some makeup/jewelry/cookware that I don't actually need and won't ever use. I'll pass.  Now with social me

I love the smell of fall: the way the cooler weather, crisp mornings and fallen leaves come together to make a beautiful potpourri. This year's heat has made the arrival of autumn later, but it's still there. As much as I love the warmth of summer, I love the crispness of fall even more. The last few years, however, this time of year reminds me of my dad. It reminds me of emerging from long days in the hospital, my eyes blinking to adjust from florescent light to the brilliant autumn sky. It reminds me of the impossible pain of standing in my closet picking out clothes for my father's funeral. It reminds me that two years ago my son was only 10 months old, barely pulling himself up at Grandma and Pap Pap's house. It reminds me that my dad didn't get to see that amazing little baby turn into a wonderful little boy. I'm typing this at 3:32 a.m. You know...like you do. I've become a bit of an insomniac of late. My mind doesn't shut off like I need it to

Earlier this week I read  Amber Tamblyn's piece  in the  New York Times  detailing her struggle in dealing with sexual harassment. It's brilliantly written and spoke to me. While I don't think of myself as a victim it's because dealing with harassment has become so commonplace that I sometimes don't even always notice it. And that is perhaps the saddest point of all. Tamblyn's op-ed spoke to me. For the last few days I've been thinking of the myriad times in my career in which I've had to deal with inappropriate touching, comments, and uncomfortable situations. It's happened over and over again. I wish I had a manual for how to deal with it. I wish I could tell you I fought back with words every time. Neither of those things are true. I waited tables and college and became friends with one of the male servers. Once he smacked me on the butt in the kitchen in full view of everyone else. I said, "Hey stop. Isn't that sexual harassment?&quo

Recently I was complaining about something everyone else seems to like, and my husband said I was such a hipster. At first I was irritated, but then I wondered if he was right? I did a little research in what it means to be a hipster, and it was fascinating. Merriam-Webster defines a hipster as: "a person who is unusually aware of and interested in new and unconventional patterns". This definition does seem to oversimplify the hipster counter culture. While overall I don't think I'm really a hipster (although my sassy short haircut can be fashioned into a wicked man bun), I do often like to shun mainstream things even without necessarily understanding or having experienced them. Over the last week I've been making a list of things that are popular with the mainstream that I don't understand.  A disclaimer: if you like these things, that's totally okay. This is not a slam on you. Reasonable people can agree to disagree. These are things that I don't u

I'll be honest - I've never struggled with my weight. I was 19 years old when I got sick with Crohn's, and this disease is its own weight loss program. Before that I was really active and never stopped moving. I was told once I had the metabolism of a hummingbird. For most of my life that's basically been true. So none of what I write in this blog should be taken as my thinking I have a weight problem or that I'm fat (I know that to be objectively untrue), but for the first time in my life it's gotten harder to take off. Let me rephrase: for the first time in my life I can't just eat and drink whatever I want and expect to not gain weight. It's an adjustment. I've always loved exercise. I remember copying my older sister and doing workout videos from the time I was 11 years old. I was a cheerleader from third grade through high school. I took tumbling classes and added running to the repertoire once I was joined the track team in 9th grade. In coll

Today I turn 39 years old. According to lore (i.e. from my mom) I was born at 8:17 a.m. at the end of the hottest summer on record following months of practicing my cheerleading moves in Mom's belly. I made my debut nearly two decades ago, and I don't think I've stopped moving since. Four years ago I wrote a blog on my 35th birthday. I didn't have all the answers then, and I sure as hell don't have them now. But in the four short years since I wrote that blog my life has been turned on its head and back again in all the best and worst ways. I am a mom now. It's been nearly three years and I still feel the words "I'm Will's mom" gush out of my mouth like it just happened. It's the best job I've ever had. My husband and I are stronger than ever because that's what change and challenge will do to you. There has been so much joy the last few years with my family and friends. Our friend group has expanded and changed and is even mor

I love being a mom. Even in the hardest moments I find joy. I make  myself find joy because I wanted this. Not only did I sign up for this, I wanted it more than anything in the world. I let Clomid ravage my body and my psyche. We went through an agonizing process of background checks, fingerprinting, classes, and waiting...the God awful waiting...to have a child (all the while teenagers can be parents without any of this. Amazing). I couldn't hear news of other pregnancies without a good cry. My heart's greatest desire was to be a mother, and it's glorious. Even in the most difficult moments on the toughest days I love it. That doesn't mean it isn't challenging. We landed in Detroit a few weeks ago after our vacation (on a Tuesday), and I noticed my son had bitten through the end of his pacifier (or "mimi" as he calls it). This isn't the first mimi he's bitten through. My son had a collection of Wubbanub pacifiers from birth. (If you aren't

If you're looking for a post that's not TMI, move along my friend. Let's be real though - you wouldn't even be reading my blog.  I have a good friend who's periodically asked me how my butt is in the last year, and I always find it a hilarious way to ask how I'm feeling. And it gets right to the point really. Last January I wrote a post talking about some of the more frustrating things I've been facing, so I won't get into all those details again. It's been a rough 18 months, but I think the end is near. I had an abscess drained back in October, and for ten months  I've had an actively draining wound. It's as fun as you imagine an actively draining wound would be. Last Tuesday my doctor removed the drain. I didn't realize how frustrating and how uncomfortable it was until it was gone. Now I feel like myself again. It's incredible.  Despite nearly two decades of having Crohn's it's taken a long time for me to acknowledge,

Finding a new city is up there with my favorite things. It's like reading a book you love and discovering the author has a dozen other books you haven't read. It surpasses wonderful things like a good race medal or a delicious glass of Pinot Noir. Discovering the joy of a new city is magical. My husband attends a lot of conferences, and sometimes I tag along. For months I'd planned to join him in Philadelphia, and he found out more recently he had a conference in Austin immediately before Philly. Given that my best friend (and my son's godmother) lives in Austin, there was no question that we'd join him in Austin as well.  I loved visiting my bestie, but as I  opined back in April  Austin does nothing for my cityphile heart. A bartender in my hotel who was new to Austin complained to me that downtown Austin felt "corporate". I couldn't agree more. Given that temps were hovering around 100 degrees the entire time we were there our options were 1) sw

Parenting is a bipolar job. It includes extreme highs and extreme lows and lots of moments in the middle. I mostly think I'm a pretty good mom, but I would be lying if I didn't tell you I second guess myself about something every day. Every single day at some point I wonder if I'm actually failing miserably as a mom. I don't read parenting books or websites or generally listen to advice from others because every kid is different. Every parenting style is different. I truly think moms should scrap the advice and do whatever works for them. My kid is two and a half and still loves his pacifier. He won't forever. I'm not sweating that.  I do sweat the fact that he's not a great eater. It's been the bane of my existence since we switched to solid foods. It's getting better after we saw a pediatric nutritionist. But I hate  when people give me advice about feeding my kid. We've talked to the pediatrician. He's healthy. We've talked to the

This year my blog has been less about running and cities and more about Crohn's and mommyhood. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, but it has meant I'm off my game a bit. Given my extreme focus on both running and cities over the last few years, it was probably good to take a break; gain a little perspective. My break wasn't intentional, but I finally got to the place where I realized it was necessary. Now I'm slowly getting back into running, and I really had no idea just how slow the process would be. I've been working out a lot over the last eight months, but it's been a lot of yoga and cross training. Running is a different animal, and I was kidding myself to think I could simply jump right back into it. Falling in love again with my favorite cities, however, remains really easy. Last week my husband had a conference in Chicago, so I decided to join for a few days. In my last job I traveled overnight relatively frequently, but the last ye