This Is Marriage: Day 193

This morning I woke up in the house that we now own. Outright. As in, yesterday I paid off our mortgage. We put a lot of money down when we bought the house, then once I sold my old house, we were able to pay off the rest of the mortgage on our new house. During my lunch break yesterday, I went to the bank to deposit the check and pay off the rest of our mortgage. The teller asked "Do you mean pay down or pay off?" I said "Pay off. As in, the whole thing." She asked me what the big check was from. Sometimes when strangers are nosy, I am really, really tempted to say something ridiculous like "Porn. It's a really lucrative business." You know, just to see their facial expressions, which would be priceless. But instead I told her the truth, that it was from the sale of my house. As she was processing the transactions, she said "Just to let you know, we have a special right now on a home equity line of credit." Facepalm. The whole point of my visit to the bank was to pay off our debt, not accrue more.

This is the first time I have ever owned a house, like really truly owned it, debt-free. It is a fantastic feeling. And also a bit surreal. How did this happen? I could say that I worked hard and sacrificed and saved. But that's really only a small part of it. The truth is that I got lucky. Lucky that I had parents who cared about me and taught me how to be a person in the world. Lucky that I met Bill, who gave me the job I've had for the past 12 years. Lucky that I met Jeff, Stephen, Jeremy, Lucky, Mike, Mozzie, Danielle and Charlie and they came and lived with me at my house. Beyond lucky that I met Pete and he became my partner in creating an adventurous, hilarious, debt-free life. We have already done so many things together that I could never have done by myself. Somehow I am living a life that surpasses all my wildest, most impossible dreams. All because I was lucky enough to meet you.

People are awesome. Marriage is awesomeness squared.

Lyric of the moment: "Lucky I'm in love with my best friend. Lucky to have been where I have been. Lucky to be coming home again..." ~Jason Mraz "Lucky"

Trail and road trip weekend

This has been a weekend of spontaneous adventures involving trails, roads, hills, friends and bagels, which was just what I needed to keep me busy, tired and carb-filled. Saturday morning, Alison, Bob, Linda and I piled into Gus (Pete's van, which I am supposed to be occasionally using while he's gone, so Gus doesn't get all cranky from sitting around or lose any of his Fun Gus cred from disuse. Or something like that.) and headed to Naples to run the trails at Hi-Tor. We were meeting up with a group to run the Muddy Sneaker course, which is 12ish miles of hills, hills and more freaking hills. It was a beautiful sunny day and the run was hilly and muddy and, for some people, even bloody. (No one was seriously hurt or anything, but we joked that the race should be called Bloody Sneaker. As in literal blood from scrapes and falls, but also as in bloody hell, another endless hill!). The actual race, in April, sold out before I got around to registering for it, so it was nice to have the chance to run it as a training run instead. Plus I got to run it with some of the most badass quinquagenarians I know. I really hope I'm still doing this kind of stuff in 20 years.

Saturday night I made myself lots of recovery foods (vegetables, protein, tumeric smoothie. And animal crackers, because I like to eat things that look like animals but are not made out of animals), foam rolled, relaxed and fell asleep early. Sunday morning, Chris picked me up just before 5am (really it felt like 4am due to the Daylight Savings Time change) and we headed to Rock Hill, NY to run the Celebrate Life Half Marathon. I had never heard of this race or Rock Hill, NY. But Chris had called me Wednesday night asking if I wanted to go on an adventure on Sunday and I, of course, said yes. When adventure calls, the only answer is yes. He was filling in as the 1:40 pacer. I knew there was no way I could run that fast but I decided to go along and just use the race as a training run. The course was described as having rolling hills. And I figured running some more hills on tired legs after getting up stupidly awesomely early would be good training for the whole running-around-in-circles-in-the-dark-for-12-hours thing I'm doing in July. (Signing up for that nonsense will either be one of my best decisions or one of my worst. It remains to be seen).

We arrived in Rock Hill with plenty of time before the 10am start (Chris had to be there at 9am for pacer pictures and stuff). I was feeling pretty well recovered from Saturday's shenanigans, but fifteen minutes before the start, while jogging back from the bathroom, I had two epiphanies: 1) Change into a short-sleeve shirt (it was warmer and sunnier than I was expecting) and 2) Don't be stupid. As in, there are times to test your limits. And this is not one of those times. I haven't followed a training plan in years. I just run, strength train, do yoga, have fun, and most importantly, try to avoid injury. So I decided I would run this race easy and relaxed. I told myself that under no circumstances should I ever be in front of the 1:50 pacer. If I caught up to him, which I did a couple of times, I slowed down a little and just focused on enjoying the views. It was a very scenic course, winding around Lake Louise Marie and Wolf Lake, though I did not see any Louises, Maries or wolves. I did see some cute lakeside cabins with signs out front that said things like "Dances with bears" and "This is happiness" (and spectators with a sign saying "Hey Girl, you're running a half marathon. I like that" next to a picture of Ryan Gosling. That is probably the best thing about road races; you can usually count on someone bringing the Gosling). I felt good the whole way, with the exception of the ball of my left foot, which started hurting a little towards the end. I think I'm just not used to running that far on roads, as most of my distance miles are on trails. Chris had run back out to meet me during his cooldown and ran the last half mile with me, which was downhill and awesome.

We got some food, got back on the road, and listened to the rest of the book on tape Chris had brought. I had never listened to a book on tape before. This one was totally worth it for the scene in which a security guard is being chased by a spitting llama with a spider monkey (named Frog) on its back. Hilarious! We arrived in Rochester around 5pm, making it a 12 hour adventure day!

It was a gorgeous sun and run-filled weekend. The whole time I was running, all I could think was how lucky I am. To have a body that supports all these crazy adventures. To have friends who make all the days more awesome. And even to feel so sad when Pete is away, because it means that he is such an important and irreplaceable part of my life, and I never ever imagined that I would find someone like him or be living a life like this.

That sign is right, I thought as I ran past it. This is happiness.

Lyric of the moment: "Let's dance to joy division. And celebrate the irony. Everything is going wrong. But we're so happy. Let's dance to joy division. And raise our glass to the ceiling. 'Cause this could all go so wrong. But we're just so happy. Yeah, we're so happy..." ~The Wombats "Let's Dance To Joy Division" (Because it's true. That's why it's on my Deployment Sucks playlist.)

"All good things are wild and free"

That's a quote by Henry David Thoreau. No one epitomized that spirit more than my parents' dog,

Gangsta 'Bu, decked out for a Roaring Twenties party

Wilbur. He loved to run free. He never met a fence he couldn't climb over. If someone left a gate or a door open a fraction of a second too long, he'd already snuck out of it, smiling as he ran away. To know Wilbur was to have spent time chasing him around the neighborhood.

When the vets first diagnosed the cancerous tumor on his face, they said he had only 6 months to live. That was over 6 years ago. But Wilbur finally met something from which he could not escape. The cancer grew too big and he grew too old to have any more surgeries to remove it. My dad let him loose on the beach one last time and then had to take him to the vet to be put down. I can only hope I'll be lucky enough to go out the way he did, with one last run and then a nice long sleep.

Wilbur lived a good, long doggy life doing what he loved, running, howling at squirrels and pawing at people until they pet him. He was a wanderer, an explorer through and through, sometimes running around for hours until we found him. He even went on a long road trip when my parents moved from New York to Florida (How he didn't manage to escape from the car during that trip is a miracle. He once jumped out of my mom's convertible while she was driving). Mr. Bu was all things wild and free and good. May he rest (and run) in peace.

Lyric of the moment: "Some of us are different. It's just something in our blood. There's no need for explanations. We're just dogs on the run..." ~Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers "Dogs On The Run"

This Is Marriage: Day 180

Thursday night, after catching two flights, I was sitting in traffic in a rental car. I was supposed to be meeting Pete so we could spend the weekend together and celebrate his 40th birthday. But I still had at least an hour's drive to get to the hotel. My second flight had been delayed because of a broken latch on one of the overhead luggage bins. We had to wait for a mechanic to come and tape the compartment closed and put a crooked sign on it that said "Not for passenger use." Apparently only an official plane mechanic is qualified to administer tape and crooked signs. I was tired. I was hungry. I was supposed to be seeing Pete and instead all I could see was a seemingly endless line of red tail lights. My eyes started to well up with tears of frustration. Then Less Than Jake's 867 5309 (Jenny) came on the radio and I laughed and started singing along. Then I saw a sign that said "Tunnel 3 miles. Check Gas," and I laughed and wondered how many cars ran out of gas in the tunnel before someone decided a warning sign was necessary. As a kid, I remember being so excited to drive through this tunnel. Under the water! Like some kind of magic! As an adult, crawling along in traffic at barely 25mph, the "Maintain 55mph" signs seemingly mocking me, the tunnel experience was decidedly less magical. But then I thought, I literally flew through the air and drove under the water to get here, to see Pete. If that isn't magic, I don't know what is.

The traffic eased up, I made it to the hotel and finally got to see Pete. I checked into my hotel, then we walked over to where his unit had been staying. Pete showed me all his gear and had me try on his body armor to show me how heavy it was. The vest must weigh at least 50 lbs. It's not like those Kevlar vests you see the police wearing in movies. This was like trying to walk while giving someone a piggy back and someone else a piggy front (I don't even know if that's a thing. The point is, armor is seriously heavy, man. I think there is a lesson in there, something about the things you think are protecting you may really be weighing you down and holding you back). I laid down on the bed, then tried to get up and felt like a turtle stuck on its back. We were laughing as I waved my arms and legs around, trying get enough momentum to propel myself upright again.

As I was flailing about in overturned turtle pose, I realized that I'm starting to get some idea of what it's like to walk a mile in Pete's shoes/armor, but I still don't comprehend the full magnitude of what he'll be going through this year. Whenever I think about it, I am overwhelmed with sadness and also helplessness. I want to change things, to make them better. But I don't know how.

All I know is that sometimes all you can do is show up, be present. On the phone, in a card, in person. However you can. However many planes and cars it takes. However sad it is to say goodbye afterwards.

I would take any number of planes, trains and/or automobiles

to get to this big hunk

I don't think Pete realized that marrying me would mean stopping to

take photos with every single bear we ever encounter. Mwahahaha!

I have a feeling this year is going to be a lesson. In patience. In love. In gratitude. And a reminder that our time together is uncertain and never enough. This year, sure. But all the years. We don't know how much time we get. But we can make whatever time we do have count.

It probably wasn't the way Pete would have chosen to spend his 40th birthday, but at least we got to be together, talking, watching movies, exploring a trail, checking out The North Face outlet and eating all the pizza, calzones and chocolate.

Marriage is making the most of the time you have together.

Lyric of the moment: "And everything you thought you had, has gone to shit. But we've got a lot, don't ever forget that..." ~Margot And The Nuclear So And So's "Broadripple Is Burning"

This is my brain.

According to the CPA, we are not getting a tax refund this year. Nope. Not even close. Actually we owe several thousand dollars in taxes. Apparently this is the downside of marriage. Basically, we both married up. Into a higher tax bracket.

This is how my brain processed that information in between hearing it yesterday and signing the papers today:

Wait, what? That's so not the news I wanted to hear.

I'm annoyed.

Wait...I'm annoyed. As in a tiny bit miffed, minorly irritated. (Mostly just out of shock and also is this why society is all marriage crazy? Mo' marriage, mo' money for the man?) I'm not panicked or despondent or utterly terrified that I'm going to end up living in a van eating nothing but ramen noodles. This is not a big deal. I mean, it's not a totally insignificant deal. But it's not a big deal. It's just money. In a way, I sort of like paying taxes. I guess. It does make me feel like I am succeeding at responsible personhood. And hey, evidently the government thinks I'm doing so well that they want me to give more back. I am doing well. I have an awesome life. I have health and people and adventure. I am the luckiest.

Let's make peanut butter fudge!

Let's go to spin class!

Let's eat dinner. For, like, nutrients and stuff.

Onto the important matters at hand. Or mouth? Let's eat peanut butter fudge!!!!!

Mmmm...it's so peanut buttery and coconutty. Who knew you could make this deliciousness with just PB, coconut oil, honey, vanilla extract, salt and a freezer?

Can I eat this for breakfast?

Let's sign up for the CandleLight 12 Overnight Ultra!

Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo! What did I just do?!

In July, when I die a horrible death running in circles all night, it will be the government's fault.

Lyric of the moment: "And I find it kind of funny. I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run in circles it's a very, very mad world, mad world..." ~Gary Jules "Mad World" (This is how I imagine it will feel to run for hours and hours in the dark, all the tiredness and delirium and awesomeness. Did I say awesomeness? I meant oh shit (string of expletives!!!) what have I done?)

The unbearable awesomeness of being

I use the word awesome a lot. It's not an exaggeration. It perfectly encapsulates the way I feel about most things. If you ask Mr. Thesaurus, he will tell you that some of the synonyms for awesome are:

Awe-inspiring

Awful

Beautiful

Breathtaking

Formidable

Frightening

Horrible

Impressive

Intimidating

Magnificent

Overwhelming

Terrible

Terrifying

Wonderful

I find that life is all of those things, sometimes simultaneously. In the moments when life feels more awful-horrible-terrible than wonderful, I try to remember that it's all part of this whole existence thing. Sometimes life is hard and shitty things happen. At those times, I remind myself that these things are true:

A) You are not alone. Chances are someone somewhere has been through the same hard thing that you are facing and survived. Chances are you will survive too. Also, people are the best, and they make the bad things better.

B) You are lucky. If you're still alive, then you're doing a lot of things right. And even in its worst moments, life is still the best.

C) Running is some kind of magic that can make you feel better about everything.

Evidence: Saturday morning I was running trails at Ellison Park. I use the term running loosely. The snow was calf deep or higher and it took me 70 minutes to go 5 miles. But it was terrific fun. And, like most runs, it turned out to be exactly what I needed. This time what I needed was a reminder. That sometimes you can't control the conditions of your life, but you can still go out and play in them. That things only become a struggle when you resist them. If you accept your current reality instead of fighting it, you will find your way through it and maybe even find joy in doing so. That the way to get through anything is one step at a time. That you might think it's a great idea to run up a steep, slippery, snow covered hill, until you have a moment of slight panic when you realize oh crap how am I going to get down from here? but it's okay because then you will shrug and think eh, worst case scenario I just slide down on my butt!

Lyric of the moment: "Oh all the days that I have run, I sought to lose that cloud that's blacking out the sun...Aimless days, uncool ways of decathecting. Painless phase, blacked out thoughts, you'll be rejecting..." ~Mike Doughty "Looking At The World From The Bottom Of A Well*

*Because I learned a new word from this song:

Decathect (verb): to withdraw one's feelings of attachment from

(a person, idea, or object), as in anticipation of a future loss.

Dictionary.com gives this example: He decathected from her in order to cope with her impending death.

Pete said that if I don't hear from him for a few days while he's gone it doesn't mean that something is wrong. Apparently if he is missing or dead, someone will come and tell me in person. In lieu of decathecting, I think I will just stop answering the door.

This Is Marriage: Day 169

It's a strange feeling to drop your husband off at the airport, not knowing when you're going to see him again. Hopefully I will get to see Pete at least once while he's still stateside but there's a chance I may not see him for the entire 9 months. This is the official start of the whole deployment thing. Military life is not a choice that I would have ever made. But that's what happens when you marry someone; their choices become your choices by default. I have a lot of feelings about the situation, which can best be summed up in 3 letters: WTF? What is the point of any of this? Why can't people be nice to each other and get along? But I realize I'm looking at things from the extremely privileged and fortunate vantage point of someone whose life has been unmarred by violence or injustice. So I may not understand it or like it, but this is our reality right now so my only option is to suck it up and make the best of it.

It will be weird. It will be sad. But it will also be temporary. I never thought that I would say this, because they are my most favorite seasons, but I hope this Spring, Summer and Fall go by very quickly. For once, I will be excited for Winter since its arrival this year will herald Pete's homecoming. It's only been 24 hours and I already miss him so much. How could I not? This is the guy I married:

Life is just not as funny without Pete and his antics. But I'm lucky to have the most excellent company to adventure with in his absence. I cried on the way home from the airport and again when I got home and the reality of Pete not being there sunk in. But I also got to do a slightly infuriating but also strangely calming puzzle with Alison, Danielle and Laura, partake in an ice cream sandwich tasting in a hot tub (which is pretty much the best thing ever), and join Chris for road runs/winning chicken fights with cars.

In all honesty, I will probably cry a lot this year. But in between, I will adventure and laugh and feel extremely grateful. All my love and thanks to you, my friends. You make the sad times bearable and the good times most excellent.

Lyric of the moment: "It's so many miles and so long since I've met you. Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you. But suddenly now I know where I belong. It's many hundred miles and it won't be long..." ~Feist & Ben Gibbard "Train Song" (Ben Gibbard is an ultrarunner, you guys! That makes me so happy!)

Winter, running, love: An unconventional Valentine.

Saturday morning I woke up to a feels like temperature of -22ºF. I didn't even consider not running outside. That is not a statement of fortitude or determination or being badass. It is just a statement of fact.

I live in a place where it is frequently cold, sometimes excessively so.

I run.

These are the facts of my life.

I don't run for a particular pace or distance. Sometimes I run for someone else's pace or distance and that is fun because I like other people. But it is not about that for me. Mostly, I run to prove to myself that I am unstoppable. Things happen. Things that are cold and shitty and out of my control. But whatever happens, I can keep going. And more importantly, I can embrace these things and even enjoy them. This is my only talent. Keep living or die trying.

I woke up on Saturday needing to be reminded of this. And so I ran. I ran to Ellison Park and got lost. I didn't know where I was, I didn't know where I was going, I didn't see a single other person. I just ran. And then I cried. Not because it was cold and I was lost and alone. Because I was sad and happy and uncertain and grateful and disappointed and felt like I was failing at all the things I most cared about not failing at. Because crying is just the thing that happens when I have too many feelings.

And then I kept running. The sun, a rare occurrence during Rochester winter, reflected off the chunks of ice floating in the stream and it was beautiful. I didn't feel cold. I didn't feel lost. It was exactly what I needed. I ran home and saw a lovely message from Laura that was also exactly what I needed. Still not done crying, apparently.

I spent the weekend with Pete. It was happy and sad and filled with hockey, movies, laughs and Valentine's bagels (red! and strawberry flavored!). The neighbor across the street brought us a card and a picture she took of our house with a rainbow over it and again, I don't even know how this always happens, but it was exactly the right thing at the right time. I shoveled and a man in a car rolled down his window to tell me "It's cold out, do you know that?" A fortune cookie told me "You will be on the list of Most Excellent People." (Which is not a thing, and I would definitely not be on it. Unless it's some kind of menu for mosquitoes, in which case I would be the dessert section.)

These are the facts of my life.

I live in a place where it is frequently cold, sometimes excessively so.

I run.

And I am reminded that I am surrounded by beauty and love.

I don't know how it happened, how I got so lucky. I forget it sometimes, but it's always there. Love that doesn't shy away from the coldness and the challenges of life, but instead runs through them and makes the best of them. Love that really sees you, that accepts you at your best and at your worst, that makes you laugh and makes you pizza.

Lyric of the moment: "Eating super sugar crisp. I was getting used to this. Well, light will keep your heart beating in the future..." ~Mike Doughty "Light Will Keep Your Heart Beating In The Future"

So I married a Seaman

In anticipation of Pete's upcoming deployment, we went to a pre-mobilization meeting in Virginia this past weekend. It was largely a waste of time. To be fair, the lunch they provided was excellent (albeit slightly tragic, as I got up to go the bathroom and came back to find that the caterers had already cleared away my only half-eaten piece of apple pie). And the presenters were lovely and earnest and very much wanted to be helpful. It's just that we're lucky enough not to need most of the services they provide. We already have college educations and jobs and we don't have financial problems or really any problems at all.

What I really wanted was answers to my questions: How do we stay happily married when we're thousands of miles apart and we don't know how often we'll be able to communicate? How do I not feel guilty going on runs and adventures while Pete is working long, hard days far away from home? How do I keep myself from automatically assuming the worst if I haven't heard from him in a few days? How do I stop feeling such profound disappointment in humanity for always being at war?

Probably these questions are unanswerable, the kind of things that I just have to figure out for myself. Probably this year will be sad, yes, but also funny and challenging and beautiful. Because that is the nature of life.

I don't have the answers. I don't have a plan. I don't think I can even make a plan. I can't bring myself to sign up for races or anything else right now. Because I can't think that far ahead without being forced to confront the fact of Pete's absence. Everything I would normally be excited about will now be tinged with sadness at missing Pete. A sadness made worse by the fact that I know we will be fine. Pete will make the best of where he is and I will make the best of where I am, and yet I will constantly be reminded that whatever good things happen, the mere fact of not being able to share them with Pete immediately diminishes their goodness. Awesome sauce is meant to be shared and so what do you do when your favorite person to share things with is stupidly and pointlessly far, far away?

Probably the answer to this is the same as the answer to every difficult question. Just be. Be yourself, do your thing. Easy to say, difficult to do. Take it one day at a time. Feel the things you feel. Do the things you love. Love the things you do. Find humor where you can. Let all the things make you stronger, wiser, ever more thankful and, above all, more humane.

Lyric of the moment: "And I won't forget you. At least I'll try and run, and run tonight. Everything will be alright, everything will be alright, everything will be alright..." ~The Killers "Everything Will Be Alright"

Dark thoughts from the shower

Wednesday morning's run in the cold pouring rain made this morning's run in the not-so-cold snowglobe-esque snow feel even better. And having excellent company both days makes any run enjoyable regardless of the type of precipitation. It has been a week of adventures both happy and sad. Peanut butter pie and dark chocolate peanut butter cups were plentiful. I got to see a lot of my favorite people, though it was for a sad occasion. Jen(n)s took over Todd's car and no one peed inside it, but there was plenty of Outlaw Country. I got to spider-crawl and bunny hop and play with bricks under a bridge with two awesome ladies. I laughed so hard at work, like when Bill said "All women look the same in the dark...I mean...that came out wrong." Basically it was another week I had the privilege of being alive and being surrounded by awesome people.

And in general, I'm a happy, optimistic, see-the-best-in-everyone kind of person. (Mostly. I did win at Cards Against Humanity last night, which pretty much means Congratulations, you're the most terrible person in the room!) Plus I was in a really good mood this morning. Like I do most mornings, I was showering with Mike Doughty...(pause for humorous effect)...'s Pandora radio station playing in the background. And then I had a weirdly terrible shower thought:

Is the real reason humans are always at war with each other because there's no money in peace?

I mean, I have a phone with a lock screen that recognizes my fingerprint. And I'm not a spy, I'm just a regular person. (That is my story and I'm sticking to it). And yet we can't solve basic problems like how to inhabit the same 197 square mile space without being super unkind and murderous to each other. As a species, we are so technologically advanced and yet so emotionally stunted. It is really weird. Does anyone else think it is really weird? Or am I the only one who has random dark thoughts in the shower?  

Lyric of the moment: "No I don't wanna be afraid, afraid to die. I just wanna be able to say that I have lived my life. Oh, all the things that humans do to leave behind a little proof. But the only thing that doesn't die is love, love, love, love, love..." ~Marina & The Diamonds "Immortal"