The Things I Do For Medals #OCwasntEvenOnTheList

I dug. I don't race/plan/prepare too good.

I could be more excited about running with Rikki (remember her tutu nonsense) after our awesome time in Las Vegas…could be. But I’m realizing what I’ve signed up to do. It seemed like a great idea. How did it happen? Funny you should wonder.

Well, Rikki got a free race entry with her company. So, when she thought she wasn’t running, running for free seemed like a thing, so she signed up. When she shared this with me I was all proud and happy and whatnot. All of the emotions, without a single intention of doing this race, because it’s like her thing and you’re happy for her.

That is, until you find out you have to be in Southern California the Monday & Tuesday after the race you’re so excited about for Rikki. Now it’s the race that you’re doing because you don’t care about her being great all by herself, or your health. You really don’t give a damn about your health – because you already working on your pre-race party plans. #YouTotallyWantMyLife

Plans which were pretty awesome! I got to spend time with my She-Ro *long story I’ll probably never tell you about, not because it’s private, just because, wait, what was I saying* and I even got to see #ConferenceHubby for a bit. We drank and merry’d, pool’d and hot tub’d, then slept all the way back to Rikki’s… Literally one of the best days ever! #ToldYa #YouSoooooWantMyLife

START: You know… Running isn’t a bad idea. It’s actually pretty awesome. But the way you do it *yes, I’m talking to myself* sucks! You live it up at the pool with friends, drink yummy wine, eat delicious cheese dips and whatnot, then come out here to this… To only leave directly after this for a two-day work conference. Not cool ‘teezy. Not. Cool.

Mile 1: I can feel my lungs coming through my sports bra. You have no idea what kind of pressure it takes to feel that. Yes, I have on 2 sports bras. You know, not finishing is a real possibility. Did you write your medical information on the back of your bib? #OfCourseNot

Mile 2: Nope. You didn’t. And the only person who knows you is running, in this same race, ahead of you. You’re going to be somewhere on the side of the road in Orange County, gasping your last taste of smoggy air. You are hopeless.

Mile 3: You’re a hopeless dramatic. That’s what you are. Just run. Why do you always create these unfortunate life running stories? How are you this creative about your demise?

Mile 4: Okay lady. I see you attempting to pace yourself with me. You realize that’s not an accomplishment, right? An elderly woman with a dog, baby stroller and cast on her left shoulder passed me running a mile ago. You won’t even get on the honorable mention roster for beating my time.

Mile 5: So, you’re just going to run past me, then stop IN FRONT of me and start walking again? Do you realize that Rick Ross just came on my playlist? I just shot you *in my mind*…

Mile 6: But I didn’t do a good job cause you ain’t’een’die. Lemme get some Jesus music on before I try to kill you *in my mind* again.

Mile 7: Lord, please hold back the sun. I know that’s a silly thing to ask living in California and all, but I’m so dehydrated right now – and we in a drought God. I’m just not able…

Mile 8: I seriously don’t even know where I am right now. I should pay more attention. I am literally following people.

Mile 9: If this bish don’t stop this running, walking, in front of me, next to me mess, I’m going to lose my salvation! I have none to spare! It took me 2 miles to forgive that tramp. Okay. Forgive me for calling her a tramp. *puts gospel music back on*

Mile 10: I ain’t living right. Let me change this playlist again. How am I singing about being redeemed and coming up with new ways to assassinate this hussie at the same time *I didn’t call her a tramp* *okay, fine, you’re right, I know I’m wrong*

        

     Tupac – Wonder Why They Call You Bish *literally comes on*

Mile 11: Here comes the sun. Welp. That’s it. I hope they lay me to rest with my favorite medals… #HitTheMileMarker #ImSweatin

Mile 12: Wait. Get your life. You’re about to have #MedalMonday at the Chancellor’s Office with Shannnnnn. She just ran her first half marathon! Look at you committing mental felonies and whatnot. Get your entire life and medal! It’s about to be poppin!!!!

Mile 13: Man, efff #MedalMonday. I’m hella hungry! And my feet hurt. That’s what I Get for all those times I killed that evil lady in my subconscious. My feet definitely hate me.

Mile 13(0.1): The OC Fairgrounds is stupid. This whole place is dumb. I wanna go. Why are all these people looking at me? Oh….heeeeey bae! How you doin? Fancy meeting you here. Oh me? You know, just running and whatnot. Being all cute and athletic and awesome. Oh, behind me? What’s that? Oh, the person you’re actually here to see? My bad. Let me slide my delusional self out the way.

         

Finish: You need Jesus. Jesus The Christ. And every angel in His assembly. You really thought he was talking to you though? You realize the person you came here with is female, right? As in, NOBODY KNOWS YOU. #ICantLord

Unless you're me. Then finishing is kinda miraculous.

I don’t know why I think my body can do anything. Like, well. I think that my body can do anything well...very well, actually. Most normal, rationally functioning human beings, who run, would never do it the way I do it. And I know I hate it, but I do it anyway. Right? You don’t understand it either.

Just pray for me. And make mimosas for me. Do both of those things. And my feet? You could hook up a good foot rubbin’... What's that? Nah?

Okay, then. Mimosa it is.

#15ThingsIn2015 Challenge

5 new states (Louisiana – 1 down, 4 to go)

4 new friends (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby; My Child – 2 down, 2 to go)

3 new running events (Shamrock Half; St Charles Road Race; Orange County Half – 2 down, 1 to go)

2 back-to-back running events

1 Half Marathon PR

Well Done. Well Done, My Friend #LetThyWillBeDone

My friend revealed to me one of his fears. Getting older. I thought, of all the things in the world, why would that be his fear? He is physically strong, mentally strong, and is always in such a good mood. And honestly, he doesn’t look his age now, so by the time he gets to the age he fears, he’ll look 20 years younger than it.

So, I did what I do best. Gave him all the reasons why he shouldn’t fear getting older. As I spoke to him, I realized, I was trying to convince myself to be unafraid. Because I fear it too. But for far different reasons.

Death. I am afraid, because the older I get, the more I have to face the death. People are leaving me in this life, yo. And since no man knows the time, it’s always going to be a surprise, a shock, a something that’s so unexpected, that I will almost always, not be ready.

And I certainly wasn’t on this day.

Someone I did not spend a ton of time with, went on to see the King. True to my fashion, I bottled it up and went directly to the silence of my mind #hiding #BuildingWallsInside #KeepingTheWorldFromComingIn #InTheShadowsFeelingBlue. You would have thought that one of my cousins passed away. Like one of them, I woke up alongside Christmas morning opening presents in Texas. I felt energy leave my body. Like, I actually felt it leave. I weighed less. And I knew in that moment that I would miss the heaviness for all the rest of my days. I sat in my office, at the computer stunned. Knowing that I should probably grieve but not sure what exactly that meant in the moment.

See, if you knew this man, then you probably felt some of what I felt. Regret for not spending more time with him. Pissed that you didn’t reach out that one time he randomly crossed your mind. Wondering if you were almost as kind to him as he had always been to you – knowing that he was indeed more kind, but hoping you were almost as good in return. And why? Why him? What in the world did he do that required his life?

Then, you realized that you answered your question. Without knowing a single of his flaws (I know that they were there, without knowing a single one of them) you know that he was good anyway. I have literally never witnessed this man in a bad mood, speak a cross word, or take a picture without showing his pearly whites. Literally all of his smiles have an ageless joy in them! Wise. Smart. Happy. Giving. Encouraging. He always knew the right thing to say. Like Hell Naw! when I asked him if he was going to ice skate with us… Loving to a fault. Especially us Black folk. Yessir, he loved his people. Our lives really did matter to him, no matter what we did with them. In the time that I knew him, I never needed his help, yet I am absolutely certain that if I called him in need, he would have been there. How crazy is that? To know that to be true. #That’sFaith #BelievingInTheUnseen

#GodRevealsThingsToMeAsItypeSometimes #There’sABlessingForMeInThisBlogSomewhere

And then to know all of that is gone. That this life is less because he is no longer with us. That because so much was given to us in one man, that much more is required of us. To remember him. To speak of him. To be kind to someone else, because we cannot return the kindness to him. To love others who don’t deserve it, because he cared for us when we were undeserving, and kinda ungrateful. Because much like us children of (great) men, we friends of (great) men have a legacy to continue. We have to be more because they were. Everything about that is hard to do, because they’re not here to encourage us along the way.

We have to do it anyway.

Someone once asked me who I was. And without thinking I replied, I am the sum of all the goodness, all the kindness, all the love that others have bestowed upon me. This started with my parents, creating the vessel and showing me the first acts of love. It continued with family, with friends, and with the amazing people I have met in these 30 some odd years.

And him. Some of who I am is who he was. And so it seems that I horcruxed a little bit of him too, like Daddie's bible.

I gotta believe You know what You’re doing Lord. I just gotta. I’m not sure any of this will make any sense if I don’t believe You know what You’re doing.

Rest well. I just gotta believe that my friend is resting well. Dwell well, Reg. Dwell. #WellDone Absolutely goodness, and mercy, followed him...all the days of his life. 

Jazzsplanations

I have spent an inordinate amount of time and money at SF Jazz! If I ever come up missing and there isn’t a race scheduled that weekend, check the SF Jazz event calendar. I’m probably there, en route there, or rushing to BART to get to the last Caltrain to take that trek home. I hate driving in San Francisco.

I digress.

Earlier this month I spent time with three lovely people at SF Jazz. If you are looking back at the calendar to see who was performing, you won’t find it. It was a Member’s Only event. Yeah, remember my Jazz Mama? She was playing there and I had to get a membership so I could buy a ticket. You know that happened.

So now, I am benefiting from all the privileges of membership. Like this event, The Artistry of Ensemble: Wine & Jazz. See this winery wanted to give away introduce a new red blend they’ve been working on and well, us. Free wine? Yea, okay. Sit with that for a minute while we get another round.

My lovely friends and I got gussied up after work and made our way to the SF Jazz Center. Ah, that place. Every time I’m in there I feel like I’m in another world. Like I’m a little girl playing dress up, who snuck out to hang with the grownups. I’m always worried that I won’t be dressed appropriately. Then I remember not to apologize for who I am, and enjoy the show.

It was awesome seeing the looks on their faces. Like kids in a candy store, they were awe’d by everything I have come to love about SF Jazz. The ambiance, the setting, the fancy people, the staff interactions, everything! And I knew it. I was so happy. It’s so awesome when you can show and share with your friends nice things.

…until you actually show and share nice things with them. Enter Jazzsplanations.

In order for Jazzsplanations to happen, you need the following:

1.    A ratchet friend that isn’t loyal. This person will say extremely ratchet things, but when the ish hits the ratchet, they will act like they have never seen you; and

2.    A colorful lip’d friend who puts vampires on her lips because apparently red toned things are in; and

3.    A friend that…that’s…that’s…thank God he’s cute; and

4.    …and me. And my kryptonite? My smarter-than-me phone.

Now that you’ve got the friends, you have to give them access to unlimited amounts of wine. That costs them nothing. Like entrance to the venue. It must all be free. #membershiphasitsprivileges

Cute friend will wink at the bartender to ensure that your red wine pours look like your koolaid cups at dinner time. Cute friend will also avoid all forms of order, like lines, and help himself to the refreshments at his leisure. *take a selfie* Vampires for lips friend will twerk-not-twerk on elderly Caucasian men that get too close to her. She also has fabulous hair, so there’s that #heffa #sowhatyoucute. Then there’s ratchet. But before we get to ratchet, we have to talk about what’s going on.

We had a fantastic time. We learned how Luminary created their Red Wine Blend, and the singer jazzsplained music to us. With each development of the wine, she jazzsplained the instrument, the music, the development of sound I never take for granted. It was truly the artistry of ensemble. While we could have done without her singing along with the music, it was an amazing event.

So, in this beautiful room we have a group of musicians playing the soundtrack to our shenanigans. We have the director of the SF Jazz Center, the Winemaker, and a Jazz Singer, entertaining us while we swirl and chug sip our wine. The director tells us, that this event is a first of its kind. There are 2 bars set up with unlimited wine and stemware, a table set up with fancy cheeses and figs, and we are the lucky benefactors of such an event. Everyone smiles and cheers (in a calm calculated tone, cause we fancy and ish).

Enter Ratchet…

Let’s fck this sh*t up… Turn these tables over, break this glass… Turn up!

Wait. Do what?

You should never, ever, eva show and share nice things with your friends. Never. Granted, this friend had no intentions of going through with said plot. Problem was, the delivery of the line was so timely, so well choreographed, so damn believable. He leaned in, so only we four could hear the exchange like he was about to give us the crop report before the stock market opened #TradingPlaces. Before I laughed, I was like, …damn, like really tho? …is he for fake or for serious Lord? *clutched pearls and wine glass* 

#NoNeedToWasteThisThisTastyFreeWine

Just um…next time, go by yourself. 

Camo Aint Coverin' This!

So, I told you all about that challenge my lady-women-female type friends were doing, right? And how I slick didn’t participate but blogged in my attendance a few times? Yea, that. So, one of the challenges was:

Day #13, Wear something you never would: This is going to sound a little crazy, but the hardest thing for me to get used to when I move to San Francisco from NYC was that no one wears heels here! I mean, my feet are grateful, but I now feel a little self conscious walking into a restaurant in pumps. But today I am challenging you, and myself to wear something you normally avoid. For me it's heels. What it is for you? Snap a pic and post it for us.

Here's why what you wear matters. When you put on sweat pants, ill fitting jeans or a worn-one-too-many-times sweater, you feel sluggish, low energy or flat and very often we'll reach for a sugarly pick me up to get out of our sweat pants induced slump. When you wear something fun, edgy, even exhilarating, you feel ah-mazing, and you no longer need food to give you your jolt of fabulous. Your shoes did that for you. Sure, clothes aren't the whole story, which is why I spend so much time talking about the inner work in Live More Weigh Less, but it seriously helps a lot.

And much like one of my friend-women-ladies doing the challenge, I thought, what wouldn’t I wear? Or at least give a try? I love trying new outfits! Accessories? Bring it! Shoes? Right…exactly. I am all about changing my style, doing something different, and reinventing my wardrobe. Of all the challenges. I knew this was the one that would not challenge me. At all.

Then I got ready to run. Challenge on.

I don’t wear running shorts for long distances because, aside from the fact my thighs are cottage cheesy and taking away from the awesomness that is my calf muscles...there is the rub. And friction with 0.1 miles left is hell. Trust me. I rarely do the exposed arms thing because I want to run, not take off. And you don’t frequent flyer miles for the speed at which I run…so arms stay covered.

I always see people in the cutest running gear! It’s colorful. Tight fitting. Prints. Stylish. Chic. Headbands, that match the tank tops, that coordinate with the pants, that bring out the sparkling reflectors of the shoes.

Then there’s me. A long sleeved black top, black Spaulding running cropped pants, and Ascis Gel Kayano’s a half size larger because, well, feet need space.

I envy them because their bodies are beautiful, and mine is tragic. Like really, it’s a mess under here. Yea, I don’t let the numbers on the scale affect me too much, but the mirror? Ugh. I mean, it’s mine, and I’m stuck with it, and I’ll do my best to do right by it, but I also think it’s important to be kind to strangers, so I pretty it up.

It just so happens while Sarah Jenks was busy figuring out how to challenge us, I began challenging myself. As I was perusing the neutral activewear options, I came across a pair of camouflage printed pants. We know my love of camo, so of course I bought them. And I was happy about it.

Until, of course, I got home and walked by the mirror. And realized I had a donkey on my back and I was going to have to figure out how to stuff it all in those pants. Um…about that… *folds pants up, places them in bottom drawer, acts like it never happened, folds receipt up*

And I have really been chilling like those pants aren’t my bottom drawer taking up space that is not infinite. Until this text conversation with my Rikki, who’s running Rock N Roll Las Vegas with me! See she thinks it would be a cool idea to run-rock-drink-repeat in a tutu. And, she’s super willing to do ALL THE WORK. All I have to do is get ALL OF THIS DONKEY on my back in it.

Ma’am.

So, I thought I could outsmart her right? I love camouflage…surely they haven’t gone through the trouble of making tutu material out of that camouflage stuff. I’ve never seen a ballerina go to war. I respond *cleverly* that if she finds one in camo, that it would be the only way I would do it. Because it’s not 2014. And we haven’t put a man on the moon. And nope, we don’t carry around next to lightweight devices that control our every single minute. Nope…none of that.

I hate everything about every internet ever made. Ever. I’m like Scarface in Half Baked. F-U Pinterest, F-U Etsy, F-U Lightening speed data network, You cool, and F-U Google Search! I’m out!

What am I supposed to do now? Sarah challenged me. My women-female-lady friends challenged me. Rikki is challenging peer pressuring me. And the finite amount of space in the bottom drawer is mocking me. #MakeItStopMama

I mean I suppose it was bound to happen. I have been stretching people to their limits all year. Telling Forcing Demanding Asking them lovingly to do things they never intended their minds, bodies or pocketbooks would do. And they did them. And got some new found greatness at the end of it #MedalMonday. Became different and better for it. Realized things only that experience could have done for them.

And here I am in this room ready to cry real tears because my booty is too big and when I walk it’s like it has a mind (and social calendar) of its own and moves like it has somewhere else in a different direction to go. I literally almost had a breakdown when I accidentally looked back at my butt attempting to speak to a staff member. I stood, in my footsteps, attempting to figure out, how to walk back to my office, with my booty concealed. Dee talked me off the ledge and up the stairs via group text.

…and now a tutu.

Dammit. #OffToStretchTheStretchinessOutOfTheseCamoPants

...but who braided your hair tho?

So it all started waaaaay before UCLA. Only it didn’t become a big deal until I got there. Apparently, it’s not common for people to braid hair. In fact, it’s not something that many people can do well. And…you can actually make a living braiding hair.

What?!

My mother owes me back pay for like 10 years – at least! I’m working on her invoices as we speak! #childlaborlaws #theinterestonittho #ShesNotEvenGoing2PayMeAnyAttentionButIWillStillTry

I could say that it was coincidence that I was a student at the height of the grow your hair out and cornrows are a serious thing movement at UCLA. …and that my cousin from Southern California would be part of that movement and the Football Team. …and that many of my friends would not only be athletes, but my residents. …and among the lot of us, I would be the only one that could braid the 3 centimeters of hair they finally grew after painstaking patience and savings on weekly haircuts.

Some call it coincidence. I call it providence. *lowers Morpheous shades*

Add like 600 more beads, and well...Us!

I never thought braiding was a big deal. Especially cornrows. All of the time it took my mother to do our hair? No thanks! We would vie to be the first victim in her chair, because at least you knew that after you took a nap from the migraine she braided on top of your head and decorated with every bead God made in the cosmos, there would be at least 15 minutes left of sunlight to play in before the street lights curfew’d you home. Otherwise, you weren’t waking up from that coma till the next day… It’s Sunday? But I wanted to go play…

I honestly began braiding my hair out of, well, poverty. What first year college student living in a triple in a residence hall has um, $150 to get their hair braided? Ain’t enough financial aid in the world to keep up with the inflation of braiding pricing… And I have to bring my own hair? Naw pimp, not the kid. I’ll walk around this piece with some coulda-been-great braids before I drop that kind of cash.

And I did. Only…those braids were great! Because I knew how to braid hair.

This dude. I had to stay 1 step ahead of him. LOL

It became an empire quickly because, well, I make friends really easy. Also, my cousin told just about everyone on the Football team that I could braid hair. So there was that. Turned into the Basketball Team. Men’s & Women’s Track. Even a couple Tennis players. There were some outlier sports too because athletes stick together. Pretty much, if you wanted to get top of the line braids in the City of Westwood, you had to come through me.

It was like runnin’ the mob, yo. You HAD to know people who knew people because there was no social media, cell phones weren’t exactly a thing, and campus was huge. There would be messages on my voicemail from people, who got my number from someone who knew someone that heard about me. They would be free ANYTIME I was available, because they just HAD to have me personally do their hair. Because TJ Cummings had is name and number braided in the back of his head at the game last night, and they just needed to get their hair done by the person responsible for that. #YesWeWon #GoBruins #8Clap #YoureWelcome.

I sometimes front like I was a broke college student, but my struggle wasn’t as real as some of your struggles. I mean, some days, I would have so much money on me (in cash) that I would be nervous. Not because I thought I would be victim of a crime, but because, if I ever got stopped, how would I explain having $500 on my person in the most random collection of bills? What’s funnier is that I didn’t even think anything was wrong with that until the day the Playstation came out. I wanted one, so I went to Best Buy and bought one. I started pulling all the money out of my pocket to pay for it. The cashier gave me a look…and I realized that maybe this wasn’t the best way to do this. But they still took my money though, so there’s that.

So people knew me, but they really didn’t know me. On a campus of 35,000 people, how can you really know anyone? Even the popular students or the athletes. The probability of you running into them is not high. It’s lower if you aren’t in the same major. #TheNorthSouthCampusDivide. But word got around. Eventually, in my 4^th year at UCLA they caught up with me.

*phone rings*

     Hello? #IsItMeYoureLookingFor #LionelForALifeTime

My name is [whatever it was]. I’m a writer with the Daily Bruin. I hear you are the person who braids everyone’s hair. I was hoping I could talk to you…

    

Y’all need to quit playin on my phone! I’m not falling for this!!! *hangs up phone*

*phone rings again*

     Um, hello?

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. I got your name from [friend I’m going to hurt badly] and they told me that you braid hair. Is this the wrong person?

    

Oh. My. *dear sweet baby Jesus* Lord. I am so sorry. I totally thought you were one of my friends playing around. We were just joking about this in Covel last week. *awkward silence* Hi! Your name again?

So this interested character came to my suite and watched me braid hair. I thought it was the oddest thing a person would ever want to do. We talk about the most random things. It’s either stupid early because the boys are traveling or really late because they are leaving study hall. I’m either in my pajamas or my duty polo. The Best Damn Sports Show Period is probably on though. Remember that fight on the show though?

He asked me questions in between parts, attempting to not disturb me. Only he didn’t know that multitasking is an important part of braiding hair. Eventually he came up with this article published in The Daily Bruin on that fateful day.

I did not know that the article had been published the particular day in which it went to print. Unfortunately, I was the only person on campus unaware that this article was in the newspaper. As in, in the newspaper in my hand, that I am currently walking around campus with. I walked into the lecture hall in the Life Science building eager to learn. Seriously…I was excited about going to class, taking notes and getting all smart and -ish. A friend near the podium looked up just as I was walking in. She came rushing towards me with the paper in her hand.

     Did you know that you were in the paper?! OMG!

Oh, yea, this guy came to interview me, but it wasn’t a big deal. I don’t even think he was all that interested in it. He seemed kinda bored.

Um, *looking strangely at me* you should flip to the back of your paper…

*whispers next to us* OMG…I think that’s her! I think she’s the one that braids hair!!

That’s when I realized that most of the people I passed in Kerkhoff Hall reading the paper were talking about me. Only, I was too busy listening to my latest playlist on my sony discman to notice that people were trying to figure out Who. SHE. Was?!

I never once thought about fame. I, up until actually reading the article in print, thought that this was a cleverly composed ruse by some of the worst funniest friends a person could have. I only went along with it because he was so damn believable!

But much to Lupita's position, the thought of charging my friends for something that I get so much more from, seems criminal. I met some of the best people on the planet in those weekly 45 minute sessions. People like Poli who never refused my endless need for hugs or pictures. Or BFletch to share music and rides to Church with. Smoke? I mean c’mon, his mother made me a sweet potato pie! Or the UCLA sprinter’s at the time who ran up to Saxon Suites when they saw this dude I was talking to with another chick in Sproul Turnaround. Boy was he surprised when he got up the hill later that night! He obviously was unaware that they were National Champion level runners #OhOkay. I could not believe that I could run, and those women…each one of them…made me feel, whole, beautiful, and part of their championship team. I once confided in JBell about this resident that was making my life misery in Delta Terrace. It was really just to vent to someone unrelated to ResLife. The subject of my vent happened to walk by us. I pointed him out and continued to talk. JBell turned around to catch up with him and have a conversation (eeeeeek!) – I stopped him though #theyareprotective #hewants4braidscausethat’sgangsta #LongBeach. And my very little really tall brother TJ. Oh how we loved me! Even my best friend. It was at one of his regular appointments that he began to peel back his layers and reveal just who he was.

How can you ask a person pay for that? All the love, the laughter, the secrets, the hopes, the wishes for our unknown futures, the plans…all of the tender memories exchanged freely in those moments. I know things about these people that they probably haven’t told anyone else. The words flowed effortlessly because that was a safe space. All of that has absolutely no price. And even if it did, the only thing that would have done me any good was the love. And I am still reaping the residuals of that love today.

And me. I remember finding me in those moments too.

...and, there was that one time where they helped me with me homework...you know, they did kind of let me take pictures of their braids, me braiding their hair and whatnot for the African American Art class that I took. (Remember that Anna?!) So there's that.

#EpicSummerRun, Race10Medal9

It. Was. Epic.

Unfortunately, it didn’t start out that way. Even back at the planning stages this wasn’t fun. It was a struggle to even decide if I was going to do this one. The year started out as me running alone for the most part. Now it’s almost June and I have tons of friends participating in running events. Like the Diva's Half Marathon & 5K  in San Francisco. Which just so happened to be the same day as the Rock 'n Roll Half Marathon in San Diego.

A very important strategic decision. Do I run with friends and be a Diva, and get a boa, and take a picture with a sexy fireman? Or, do I find my own way to #14in2014 and not only get my 9^th medal, but begin the #iRunTheCoast challenge #CaliCombo…which comes with an awesome challenge medal?

The answer is to always go your own way. Make your own path. Find your own self. #SanDiego

So, I found a couple of Southern California friends to meet me in San Diego for an #epicsummerweekendrunning. Only, one friend got stuck at the airport in the Bay Area for 3 hours, and the others couldn’t meet me until the next day.

But it got epic!! A wonderfully set up race expo. Free goodies – like always – Rock ‘n Roll folks never disappoint. Happy people everywhere. Literally everyone was happy about their decision to pay an obscene amount to run that next morning at an unholy hour. Hella Excited.

…and nervous. I was actually kind of afraid! It’s crazy when I think about it. I’ve clearly done these running events before…and survived them. But why now? Why the nerves? I suppose maybe I still don’t believe in the legend of me I am making through #14in2014. Guess I have to keep running until I’m convinced. There’s no one more committed to a cause than a convinced skeptic, right?

Well, it is the morning of the race. After a night of reunions, pasta, annoying singing at dinner, room service, lounging, laughter and swapping secrets, I rolled out of bed. My first words?

I’m too tired. I can’t do this. Please don’t make me go. …and that fool didn’t even respond. I think he grunted. I just shook my head and continued getting dressed. Before I left out, I had one request. When you guys wake up, bring my race bag. It’s right here – the room key is on top of it. Don’t forget it!

Okay. #LiesToldWhileSleeping

Hotel to Balboa Park: OMG! OMG! OMG! I have to get there! I have to see SPL before he takes off into greatness in the Marathon! OMG! He is going to KILL it!

Corral 3: OMG! OMG! OMG! We need to take a picture! Kisses! Good Luck! *he is soooo stinking cute in those running shorts*

Thirty Minute Wait to Half Marathon Corral opening: This was not a good idea. *text to #conferencehubby* Don’t forget my bag!

Start: Welp. I paid for this. Might as well…

Get thee behind satan! I'm running! *make mental note of the address*

Mile 1: This city is actually pretty nice. I could see myself living here.

Mile 2: The people are so nice! Awwww, lookie at the cheerleaders!

Mile 3: Really? Wings & Ribs joint? Are you kidding me? It smells good though. #IGotALittleTimeForThat #OhWaitImRunningAHalfMarathon #Dammit #TheSwindle #DontForgetTheAddress

Mile 4: Oh, no thank you sir, I don’t think I should have a Stoli Vodka and Cranberry. I have to run. You know, like all these other people out here. It’s kind of a thing. But your generosity will be remembered on this great day sir. #iwitnessedkindnessinSD #PayItForward #ARoundOnMeLater #ImightaHadaDrinkIfThatWasCirocTho

Mile 5: I wonder if that fool remembered my bag. I can’t wait for those recovery beans. They are soooooo good!

Mile 6: I signed up to do this 3 more times this year. That doesn’t seem like the smartest idea.

Mile 7: *reading the cool words in chalk on the pavement* Run like someone called you a jogger. I think that’s supposed to be an insult to make me run faster. It kinda feels like a compliment.

Mile 8: Only 4 more miles to go. I mean that’s not a lot. #LiesToldWhileRunning

Mile 9: I hope I don’t miss Aloe Blacc. I swear I’m moving so damn slow!

Mile 10: *sign* Half Marathon stay right. Marathon to the left. *drifts to the left running* Um…where in the entire HAYLE are you going? *drifts back right*

Mile 11: *text to #conferencehubby* Mile 11. It hurts.

Mile 12: I quit! I Quit! I QUIT!!! This is so stupid. My feet are killing me. I really wanted to wear my Steve Madden’s tonight!

Mile 13: I’m never going to run again. My circulatory system, my toenails, my braids and my hypothalamus all hate me.

Finish: OMG! There he is! Is. That. A. Sign. With. My. Name. On. It. OMG. Keep. Running. You’re. Not. Finished. Yet.

I have to find them! I have to find them! OMG! He told me he had a surprise for me, but there was no way I could have anticipated that! I have the sweetest #conferencehubby In. The. Entire. Galaxy! He was so excited to catch my gaze as I finished the longest 0.1 mile in my life.

I got my medal, my cold towel, took my finish line photo, and grabbed every piece of sustenance they handed me. Always moving forward, towards the exit, to get to my friends. To thank them. To hug them. To give them all this crap in my hands before my muscles gave out #thelacticacidstruggle.

And there they were waiting beyond the trolley crossing. So happy to see me. So ready to find the rest of our friends to congratulate them. So ready to have brunch. Sans my post-race bag. But how could I be upset. They just made my day!

We found our friend SPL who beasted the full marathon. Made it to the free beer station. And got to see Aloe Blacc #he’sthemanhe’sthemanhe’stheman in Petco Park do what he does sooo well. I felt like the woman! I was the woman. I am the woman.

Everything about Rock ‘n Roll San Diego was amazing! If you are looking for an awesome half marathon experience it comes with my highest recommendation. Unlike #StripAtNight, RnRSD has awesome weather, great location, beaches everywhere!, well mapped and marked race route, lots of entertainment along the course, the entire CITY of San Diego cheering you on, and is totally family friendly. Though you begin running before the sun, and before Jesus has a chance to wake up the rooster to crow at dawn, you won’t regret it! Oh, and bring your friends with you! It makes a great trip all the more fantastic.

I am the woman who set out January 1^st to earn 14 race medals. I am the woman who is at the middle of the year and more than halfway to 14. I am the woman becoming a legend. My skepticism is fading…

Word of advice though. After running 13.1 or 26.2 miles, maybe you should not go out dancing to semi-ratchet music that you #CCOD that you know most of the words to #ThatsMyJammmmm. I #cantconfirmordeny that this happened and that I maybe walking is a remarkably difficult thing to do, even days later. #CCOD

This Race: Half Marathon, Rock ‘n Roll San Diego, San Diego CA

Medaled Miles to date: 48.17 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 61.27miles 

5 Medals To Go ǁ 64% Complete