I Run These Towns

This day is my favorite day of all the days. This is the day where I've lived my best life. This is a day when I've laughed, I've cried, and every year I am filled with joy as I reflect on the love in my life. Ten years ago today I married my husband, and four years ago today our son was born.  From our son's newborn photos.  This dress weighed 15 pounds, and I regret nothing.  I'm at a bit of a loss for words as I try to describe how much I love this day. On my son's first birthday I asked how to measure a year of love. Three years have flown by since I wrote that blog as we celebrate 10 and 4. Here's what I know about marriage and parenting: the highs and lows are equally amazing and daunting. The great days are amazing and the hard days feel impossible. But each and every day my husband and son make me happy. Does that mean I'm happy all day every day? Nope. But I feel joy each and every day. Meeting our son for the first time. 

It's been a rough few years for me as a runner. I've blogged over and over again about how this is it; this is when I'm getting my running mojo back! And then I've found myself running once a week again...if I'm lucky. Back in October I blogged that I was putting a beginner half marathon training schedule on my calendar, and it's helped. I've been running 2-3 days a week at 5 am, and it's not easy. But there are no shortcuts. I know I have to do the work.  Four years ago, after spending a month in the hospital and losing 20 pounds, I wondered if there was a magic formula . I know there isn't. I know that I simply need to do the work (although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wished for a teeny  Crohn's flare to shed a few pounds...which is totally messed up.) Since the beginning of November I've been prioritizing exercise. I feel stronger. Happier. Healthier. Am I running the number of miles I thought I would? Not exactly. I was ho

Hi -  It's an odd thing, our relationship. We met just over four years ago when you were pregnant with my son. You've given me the greatest gift possible, and yet I don't really know much about you. I think of you so often, wondering how you're doing. I hope you're happy. I hope your life is fulfilling. I feel so grateful to you and so guilty for what you've given up. The feeling is complicated.  I wanted to be a mom for a long time. We waited for six years, first trying to get pregnant and then waiting to adopt. We had one birth mom choose us and then change her mind once the baby was born. I was weary. I was starting to lose faith that it would ever happen. I was having lunch with a colleague when I saw the agency's number come up on my phone. The case worker told me we'd been chosen by a birth mom carrying a baby boy. We were told you were due in mid- to late-December.  It was the week before Thanksgiving.   I immediately called my husband, tr

At the age 40 I've been running for 13 years, much less than half of my life. My knee surgery was a year ago, and I thought I'd be back to running right away. I did not account for the intense, crazy, insanely time consuming new job I'd be taking on two months after that surgery. The last ten months have been bananas in a good way. I have been at a conference the first few days of this week, and the rest of the week my schedule is nuts. It's entirely scheduled without a minute to spare from 8 am to 5 pm. If I need to do crazy things like go to the bathroom or read emails or prepare for a meeting...well those things either have to wait or I do them while in actual meetings (usually the latter.) Luxuries like running? I don't have time for that. While at the conference (CityLab in Detroit) I ran twice on the treadmill. My hips hurt, and I had a twinge in my knee, but I did it. In the last few months I've realized several truths: 1) I'm not in the shape I nee

Dear Dad, It's been three years today since we saw you take your last breaths. Those moments were horrific and chaotic, and even though I was there and saw it, I recall it as if it happened to someone else. Even now, 1,095 days later, I don't entirely believe you are gone. It's been a weird three years Dad. A lot has changed. Life goes on, as you know. Remember when you used to tell us Mom wouldn't tell us when you died? And when we got home you just wouldn't be there? And you thought this was hilarious? It still sometimes feels like that happened. I always expect you will still be there when I go home, waiting up for us, watching some terrible TV show and drinking a Michelob Ultra. I have a confession to make Dad: sometimes I go days or even weeks without feeling sad. I get wrapped up in my own business and busyness, and I forget about the gaping hole in my heart and in our family. Then at other times it hits me like a ton of bricks...sometimes for days at a t

If you know me or have read this blog for any length of time you know it took us years to start a family. Six years to be exact. I remember the pain of that time so acutely, and I promised myself that if/when we became parents I would enjoy it. I promised myself that even on the toughest days and in the most challenging moments I would remind myself of the pain of wanting to be a mom. To date that reminder always works, even in the most trying of moments.  I know there's a weird balance on social media. We tend to oscillate between the perfect photo and sharing some very real nugget about us...how hard  (insert hard situation)  is. I'm finding myself becoming less patient about what feels like a barrage of parenting complaints on social media. There's a fine line between "my kid did this crazy thing and I have to tell you all because you'll get it" and "I'm complaining about my life because I can't believe nobody told me how hard this is."

Forty years ago today, at 8:17 a.m. on August 29, 1978, I ended the hostile takeover of my mom's womb towards the end of what has been described as a very hot summer. Please note, however, that Google tells me it was only 81 degrees on the day of my birthday. Maybe that feels hotter where you're carrying around a nearly nine pound baby? What I believe to be my earliest photo with my parents and sister.  I can't recall a lot about those early years, but rumor has it I haven't stopped moving since I was born. It's unfathomable to me that I am 40 years old. I was thinking earlier this week that it's been 22 years since I graduated from high school and 18 years since I graduated from college. I still don't feel like I'm a grown up despite four decades on this earth. I have moments when I'm in an important meeting at work, and I look around and think wow, I'm actually in a position to make decisions. I have a child. I'm old enough to have re

I've never made any plans about my career. Everything has happened quite by accident. I went to law school because I needed health insurance. Seriously. I was accepted to both law school and grad school, and I was very sick with what we now know is Crohn's. I had to stay in school to stay on my parents' health insurance, so law school it was.  I responded to a classified ad in the newspaper, and the Mayor of Norfolk, Virginia hired me as his Executive Assistant for my first grown up job after law school. I randomly moved to Michigan 13 years ago because my then-boyfriend was from there. I ditched the guy, stayed in Michigan, met my husband, built a life, and have had a pretty great career ever since. I didn't grow up thinking I'd work in local government. Answering that classified ad solidified my fate, and I've worked in or with communities ever since.  Two years ago I had a professional turning point, and I wasn't sure what my next steps would be. Whil

Let's be real - I'm not good at vacationing or relaxing. One of the reasons my husband and I have always traveled so often is that if I'm away from home there's at least a chance that I will take a little break. There are no errands to run, chores to do, or events to attend. This year has challenged everything I thought I knew about life balance, and I thought I was sort of getting the hang of it. Let me rephrase: I have been getting better. In January I was in the office for several hours on each weekend day. I had my phone attached to my hand like an additional appendage during non-office hours. I sometimes wondered what I'd gotten myself into. Would the pace ever become less insane?  My husband predicted it would take six months to settle into a rhythm. He was right. By the time summer arrived I began to relax a little. While I still work a lot of hours and it varies depending on what's happening, I can sit my phone down for a while on the weekend without f

It's been over a month since I've blogged y'all, and I'm feeling the itch to write. Life has been a little crazy, but I firmly believe one makes time for what's important. I haven't made time to write, and it makes my heart sad. So I'm back! Crazy month has been punctuated by a few things. One is a cough I've had for 12 weeks. Yes twelve freaking weeks. I had a terrible cold at the end of April when I met my BFF in Denver. A few weeks after I got back I went to urgent care where it was pronounced a post-viral cough. I was given five days of steroids and cough suppressant. Two weeks later it wasn't gone, so I went back to the same urgent care. This time they did a chest x-ray and diagnosed me with bronchitis. Prescription: more steroids, antibiotics, inhaler. A week later my husband and I went to a conference. We got back late on Friday and I was coughing incessantly. I went to a different, 24-hour urgent care around 10 pm on Friday and was told it