A few months ago, I attended a happiness workshop where our teacher told us to write down some of the happiest moments of our life. I sat for awhile and let the memories flood into my head, wondering what I could actually deem “the happiest.” Childhood memories of vacationing in the mountains with my family came up, along with specific times with so’s & close friends, and other simple mornings just by myself.
I think it’s near impossible to say these were the times in my life I was the “happiest,” but they were pretty darn awesome.
seeing the sunrise in acadia national park. My trip to Maine with Nicole last summer was one of the most fun adventures I’ve been on. And that morning — seeing the sun rise in the eastern-most point in the states before the rest of the population — was stunning. I remember staring out at the sky and finally seeing the bold and beautiful sun peek from the horizon; the mix of camping, being with my best friend, and cozied up in a a sweatshirt at 5 something in the morning made it a moment where I was utterly and truly happy.
crossing the line of my first marathon. Running Wineglass Marathon was one of the most fun, emotional, and beautiful times of my life. I still can’t get over how awesome the course was, and how the weather, energy, and scenery was all perfect. I was also barely a month back from an injury, and had no idea if I’d even be able to complete the race. When I rounded the corner and saw the finish line, knowing I’d run way faster than expected, I was ecstatic. Crossing the finish line of your first marathon only happens once (…obviously) and it’s something I will never forget.
reuniting with friends and stargazing in Akwida, Ghana. One of the adventures I went on in Ghana was to Green Turtle Lodge, an eco-lodge nestled in the western region of Ghana. A group of six of us decided we’d spend a long weekend there, yet we got split up en route when one of our connecting busses filled up. I stayed behind with Julie (SF bud!) for the next bus, which of course came a million hours later. The final stretch of the trip was in a slightly-sketchy cab to the beach, and after convincing myself we’d never make it, we finally reunited with the rest of our friends and were greeted with an insanely beautiful stretch of stars and skies. I’m a sucker for stars, and remember being overwhelmed by how beautiful it was, especially after a full day of (slightly) stressful travel. A picture wouldn’t do it justice, but here is the beach the following day nearing sunset.
Sometimes it’s hard to put a trip into words – especially one that was so damn awesome and special.
But this time around, summing up San Francisco into one word is easy: perfect.
YEPPP, I said it. It was pretty much totally and very, very perfect. We went on two really long runs, one of them being my first trail race and the other being along the coast and over the golden gate bridge. We ate a ton of tacos. We drank/double-fisted a ton of amazing coffee. I had the strongest whiskey drink in my life. We saw old friends, I made new ones. I explored the city in a “taxi” cab with a fluffy pink mustache on it, and walked the rest of the city by foot. Homeless people yelled at me. I ate soup dumplings. I caught up with one of my best friends who I haven’t seen in four years, and it felt like four seconds. She took me under her wing, into the Mission, and into her home. We took long naps, watched the nyc marathon on TV, and didn’t realize it was daylight savings until that afternoon. We had the most amazing brunch. Ate more tacos.
I could go on and on about every little detail, but I’ll stick right now to one of the best parts: running a half-marathon trail race. It was my first real trail race (I’ve run 5K’s on trails, but nothing further) and it was awesome. Before this race, 13.1 miles no longer felt “super long,” but when your mile splits are significantly slower, when you’re climbing up massive hills, and when you’re packed onto narrow trails with dozens of other runners — the distance becomes almost never-ending.
The course was really hard. SF is known for their hills, and the first four miles was literally just… climbing up a mountain. We started at the beach (first pic) and then “ran” straight UP into Muir Woods (second). Most people walked the uphills, which was a pleasant surprise, but it was still really tough. (I was also nursing a nice hangover. laura = smart runner.) We finally made it to the “top,” and then completed a seven-mile loop around Muir Woods. There were steep, rolling hills the whole time, so it was still pretty difficult. I actually realized the hardest part for me was the long downhills: they killed my knees, and I was so afraid of hitting a rock or root and completely face-planting. My quads also felt super unstable and I had to slow down, which messed up my stride.
We finally made it back around the loop to the gorgeous views of the Pacific, and were greeted with the best aid station ever (trail mix, lara bars, peanut butter pretzels). We gobbled them up before climbing back down the mountain to the finish line. My body was sore in places I didn’t think was possible, but I was also so full of adrenaline that I wanted to keep on running. (I actually felt best for the final three miles.)
Consensus? I loved it. Trail racing combines my three favorite things: hiking, running, and great snacks. I’d love to run a trail marathon, and maybe even eventually a 50K. (I would prefer a flatter course, if possible?!) So…we’ll see. There aren’t really trails to train on in nyc, so this might be trickier to accomplish in the coming months.
So overall, SF = the bomb dot com. I felt so good being there. The city felt “right.” And hopefully I’ll see it again soon.
Here are just…some things. That are going on.
City hopping. In less than a week, I will be in San Francisco! Finally. I’ll be spending five glorious days with Julie, my dear friend I met in Ghana. We’ll be catching up (we haven’t seen each other in YEARS) running a trail race through the Muir Woods (nbd) and simply exploring and getting to know the city better. I fear I will not return.
Breaking up with Breaking Bad. Maybe. So, I was super obsessed with Breaking Bad for four seasons, but now that I’m on season five, I’m totally over it. It’s just…so freaking depressing. And violent. And I literally was having meth nightmares and not sleeping well. I know I have one more season left, but I may not finish the series. Is that bad? Does Jesse Pinkman (<3) end up okay?
Doing good. I’ve been volunteering for this awesome company, Watsi - a global crowdsourcing platform for individuals in developing countries who need medical care – anything from tumor removals to cleft palette surgery and speech therapy. It’s been incredibly fulfilling and amazing to see the profiles I’ve been working on appear on the site, and get fully funded.
Running. After a rough week of running, I’m finally on the upswing. I’ve been waking up and going for 7-8 mile runs before work. The 40-50 degree weather is PERFECT and I want it to stay like this forever. I’ve also figured out the perfect running attire for these chilly fall mornings: shorts, tank, and arm warmers.
Reading. I’ve been drowning in the book Zoli, by Colum McCann. It’s set in Czechoslovakia in the 1930′s, and follows a young gypsy poet during the Fascist era. McCann is literally a poet himself and I’m totally obsessed by his narrative. My favorite time to read is during my morning commute; I have 20 minutes on the train to just sit and get consumed by the story.
Solo date nights. This past week I was reminded how awesome and therapeutic making a solid, home-cooked meal can be. I usually have plans after work, which involves either grabbing food in Manhattan or coming home late and retiring to eggs, rice and beans, or something quick and not that delicious. But one night this week I canceled my plans, and got some chicken breasts, brussel sprouts, and a nice bottle of Malbec. I sat down, slowed down, and enjoyed my meal and some solitude + jazz music. And it was amazing how good it felt. (Maybe because I almost drank the whole bottle of wine and slept like a champ.) But more importantly, it reminded me I can do this most nights if I want to.
Parcel! This past week, Greatist launched Parcel — a monthly subscription box that physically connects Greatist readers to our content. Each box has an assortment of eco-friendly products that improve people’s fitness, health & happiness, from healthy snacks to fitness gear and cleaning products. We’ve been working on it for quite some time, and it’s exciting to see it finally out there in the world! No pressure, but..sign up. Thanks.
“Any one can train hard.
Do you have the discipline to recover?”
These wise words were written by Lauren Fleshman in her poem Athletic Assessment. (Gotta love poets & runners.) I remember those two lines really stuck out to me, since it’s something I (and I’m assuming many other athletes) struggle with. It may sound backwards, but running mile repeats in the morning or hot yoga after a long day at work is easier for me than sleeping in for an extra hour, or skipping a workout entirely. Why? Because exercise is something that fuels me — it clears my head, helps me be more productive, and generally makes me happier. On days off I usually feel sluggish and it’s hard for me to concentrate. I also tend to have a wildly annoying appetite, which usually makes me moody.
Of course, rest and recovery is what gives you that fire behind hard training days. Carving out time to foam roll, stretch, and ice keeps your body fresh and less at risk for injury. Same goes for those long and lazy days on the couch. Still, it’s hard to keep any active person more or less sedentary, even if it’s just for 24 hours.
The other tricky thing about rest and recovery is it’s different for every person – and then different for each person depending on the day. For me, I typically find 1-2 days off a week works. But working out is SO intertwined with the rest of my life, and if I’m super stressed out, usually all of my workouts are crap and I need to take off a few days in a row – or deal with being frustrated after a 3-mile run at [insert very slow pace]. (My one exception is being hungover — I always have awesome runs after a night of drinking. Maaaybe I should drink more often?)
Anyways, this is all coming from my morning at the track that ended up being a total flop. I took off on Saturday, so thought my legs would be fresh for a nice speed workout. I got eight hours of sleep, enjoyed some coffee + episode of Breaking Bad (SO GOOD), and then headed out into the perfect 55 degree day. I had 3 sets of 3×200 repeats on my mind, but after 5 repeats I stopped. I couldn’t finish. I was running them at a pace two seconds slower than what I normally do (which is a large chunk of time for 200′s) and I literally thought I was going to faint, throw up, or both. I didn’t even want to take a few more minutes to catch my breath and try to stretch it out and finish. Instead, I walked off the track and walked home.
At first I was sad about it. Frustrated. I thought about my week of training to see if anything was out-of-the-ordinary hard. But nothing stuck out.
Mon: 6 miles, yoga Tues: 5 miles Weds: 5 miles Thurs: Lift Fri: 5 miles Sat: Off
So why did I feel like absolute crap? I’m not entirely sure. But I’m also not entirely sure it even matters. I felt was I felt, and my body was clearly telling me to stop. And I’m kind of proud that I didn’t trudge through those final repeats. It’s still super frustrating that one week I can have day after day of great workouts, and the next be super out of it. But instead of feeling annoyed, I’m trying to embrace the bad days, or at least allow them into my life. Understand it’s part of the process and the journey.
I’m disciplined on the roads and on the track. Now it’s time to stay disciplined when off them, too.
oh hello. It’s definitely been a little while! I’d like to partially ‘blame’ it on autumn: I told myself I’d take advantage of my favorite season, and not let the drab of nyc take away from the magic of fall. So I’ve gone away a few times to actually see the leaves in full-force. I’ve tried to unplug at night, and stick to reading (…or watching Breaking Bad) while my pine scented incense burns and I pretend I can’t hear the subway from my window. (So, I pretty much pretend I live in a cabin at night…not strange.) I’ve made two loaves of pumpkin bread and one awesome vegan pumpkin pie (greatist team approved!) and kiiind of countered it all with morning runs where the weather is absolutely perfect.
My first trip was up to the Adirondacks. I spent the long weekend with my parents in full-on relaxation mode. I spent a lot of downtime reading and writing, which balanced well with hikes up a few mountains, a trail run around the lake, and walks into town. I’m pretty sure it was peak foliage when we were up there — the leaves were absolutely stunning.
I also meandered over to the little set of cabins we used to stay at as a kid. I walked out on the dock where I learned to fish. Memories. (Photos are circa 2013, 1994, respectively.)
The following weekend, I went out east with my fam, Meg and her fam, and Becky. We went to pumpkin pick but I came home with zero pumpkins — it was kind of cold and rainy and we all got distracted by drinking wine. (Maybe that was just me.) We did avoid the $10 entry fee and break into the corn maze, though, and ate a fair share of apple cider donuts. It was a great day.
To top it off, Nic and I escaped to her parents little house in Conesville, New York: Population 726. We did what we do best: build fires, sit around and read for hours, run/hike, do some nature yoga, and drink white russians. On our way back, we stopped at Storm King, a sculpture art garden that is literally, absolutely, gorgeous. Needless to say, it was hard to get us to trek back to the car and drive the 60 miles back to the city.
Here’s to more fun adventures this fall! I have a trip to SF coming up, one (and possibly two) half-marathons in the next three weeks, and a trip up to New Hampshire for Thanksgiving with my family! And then…it’s Christmas. Yikes.
15 seconds faster, and I would have (barely) made it into the Boston Marathon.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t really disappointed. I can’t help but think about how I could have made those seconds up at Eugene. (Remember that time you tied your shoe at mile 14? Or slugged up a “hill” at mile 23? Or when you decided not to kick ..at all.. for the last 400 meters?)
I definitely regret my race strategy (or lack there of…) which is easier to say when it’s many months out from the race. I ran stupid. I ran off of emotions (I had just received news that my best friend was involved in a serious accident). I wanted to run fast. I wanted to run everything for my friend. And for my 16 weeks of training through a brutal winter. I went by heart.
…a heart that wasn’t up for 7:30′s for the first few miles. Or a 1:41 half. The second half of Eugene was downright painful. I hated the marathon and I desperately wanted to drop out. Running lost its vibrancy, which scared me more than anything.
And I know I’m capable of so much more: My training times don’t really reflect my marathon PR. And yeah, I still BQ’ed on my second attempt. I was happy with what I gave on the course; I literally left nothing out there. But the tricky thing about BQ’ing is it’s only half the battle. You can ‘qualify,’ but still not make the cut. Yeesh.
I’m also writing this exactly a year after running my first marathon at Wineglass, which makes it even more sentimental. I really wanted to experience not only qualifying and running Boston, but being there in 2014. The community will be stronger than ever, and the energy – I can only imagine.
But with every bit of ‘sad’ news, there is something to learn from it. If anything, it’s sort of a blessing in disguise. My roommate explained that it is the ‘universe’ telling me I shouldn’t run. (The universe has yet to talk to me about any of this, so if you’re reading this, Universe, let’s get in touch.)
More importantly though, not getting into Boston helped me realize that my days of 26.2 are not over. Being really disappointed was a sign that hey, I still want to do this. And I love this sport more than anything. And as much as I hate on long runs and ice baths and foam rolling and constant hunger, this is what makes it all kind of magical.
And I do see the potential. I am young — 25 — and I have a lottt of time left to really reach my “peak.” (This article says elites shouldn’t run their best till 35…#theresstillhope.) I don’t race that often, so I still have a lot to learn. And I’ve been almost injury free, and have yet to feel burned out from 10+ years of running under my belt.
So here’s to 10+ years more. And to everyone who did get into Boston, I am so so happy for you all. And hopefully I will be there to cheer everyone on.
Here are some things I’ve been up to as of late. (Some way more exciting than others…)
Reading. I definitely go through phases where I read 17-million books in a row, and then take a hiatus from reading for a few months. It’s kind of weird. But I’m back on the book train and have been reading some fun ones: The Space Between Us (so sad but so beautiful), Orange is the New Black (annoying, liked the show better), The Marriage Plot (still reading, undecided), Under the Banner of Heaven (haven’t started), aaand The Lowland (Jhumpa Lahiri’s new novel [!!!], also haven’t started).
Watching TV. The last TV show I actually watched was LOST, until…recently? I decided to watch Orange is the New Black, and then after hearing all this crazy talk about Breaking Bad, gave it a whirl this past week when I was sort-of sick/sort-of extremely exhausted (I camped out in bed for far longer than I wanted to). And..holy shit. Breaking Bad is terrifying. I keep having nightmares. I was running the other night and swore I heard gun shots. I’m never doing meth.
Unplugging. Soon I’ll be heading up to the Adirondacks to join my parents in Inlet, NY, the small town we vacationed at every summer growing up. I am a little more than eager to get out of the city and say hello to the fall, mountains, hiking trails, lakes, donuts, crisp air, friendly people, black bears, deer, etc etc. Below is a picture of me and my brother, super stoked to be in Cabin 2 — where we always stayed. I will be sure to thumbs-up this tiny cabin when I get up there. I might even wear purple.
Personality test. I took the Myers Briggs personality test at a conference this past week and was stamped with INFP, which stands for Introvert, Intuitive, Feeler, and Perceiver. I agreed with a lot of things it says about me: flexible/laid back, does not like conflict, highly sensitive to people’s feelings/needs, excellent at establishing relationships, and not straightforward with others which can harbor resentment. I think it makes me sound a little too passive, though, and I didn’t agree with a lot of the career options. (I don’t want to be a rabbi in low-dogma faiths anytime soon.) Still, it was cool.
Two-year anniversary. Speaking of careers (love that segue, must be cause ima INFP) I celebrated my two-year anniversary at Greatist. Holy Shit. So much has happened. I wrote a blog post about my one-year ann, and its crazy to think how much has changed since then, too. Aaand to celebrate, a barber shop quartet came to sing to me during our happy hour. It was horrifying/hilarious (attention on me makes me want to vom) but it was delivered with love and appreciation and for that I am super grateful. Plus, one of my co-workers handed me a stiff drink as it happened. That helped. <3 you all.
Pumpkin waffles. I met Nicole in the park one day after work to write a to-list for fall. It’s my favorite season, and I can’t help but feel melancholy in NYC. It’s harder to experience autumn – you really have to make an effort – so we now have a long list of “autumn activities” we’ve been doing (either together or separately) to make sure we’re making the most of it. First up was pumpkin waffles for dinner. Sadly, they didn’t come out looking too hot (they were vegan, and we think waffle irons don’t like batter w/o eggs & dairy) but they were delicious. With slightly/very burned pumpkin waffles and maple syrup (with glass of warm cider on the side) it certainly felt like fall.
It’s no surprise that running is a huge part of my life. Going from a middle-distance runner to running two marathons in eight months was a huge transition for me — and an exciting one. I became familiar and comfortable with 10+ mile runs, with foam rolling for hours on end, for eating chocolate gu and mashed sweet potatoes on long runs (delicious), and wiping off the actual salt crystals on my cheeks while sitting in an ice-bath and eating a $3 turkey sandwich from the bodega on the corner.
This summer was relentless, and I avoided long runs at all costs. So with the flip of the calendar, I woke up bright-eyed at 7am last weekend and thought with a few extra AM hours and the cooler temps, I could head out for a long, comfortable run. I ended up running 13 miles, which was actually a perfect route from my apartment: over to Long Island City, over the Queensborough bridge, and down the east river all the way to the Williamsburg bridge and back home. My pace wavered right under 8:10 the whole time, and I felt steady, relaxed, and pretty strong.
That said, the run wiped me out for the rest of the day. I rotated from reading in bed, hopping on my computer, cleaning a bit, eating, and napping – all for about six hours. I tried to gather energy to do laundry or go for a walk, but I couldn’t. I got in the shower and my body began stinging like crazy from the stupid chafing (under the arms was a new one for me) and I was frustrated and in pain — a solid 13 mile run turned me into an uncomfortable, sore blob for the rest of the day.
But even with the “bad,” there is something kind of magical and crazy about endurance training that is hard to put in words. I haven’t been in this “world” very long, but I’ve definitely gotten a taste of it.
But I’m wondering if a taste is enough. I wonder if I’d like running longer if I wasn’t in New York City (bridge running gets old, as does dodging cabs and looping Central Park). Or maybe it’s less about weighing the pros and cons of long runs, and more about my ultimate love for the track. It’s where I first fell in love with the sport, and I find that nothing satisfies me more than a gutsy, beautiful track workout. (Or I just love running in circles.)
When comparing the pain between long and short distance running, on long runs there’s this constant, dull pain that quietly sits under my muscles, in my chest, and on the bottom of my feet. I do whatever I can to distract myself from it (since hey, I still have six miles to go), and the run turns into a thought-fest from what I want for dinner to how I’m going to change the world.
On the track, I completely zone into my body in a sort of ‘zen’ way. It’s all about being in the present moment, which is easier when you know you’re only running for a few minutes (or less) at a time. It’s easier for me to find a quick rhythm, to lock into my form, to feel my stride, and to almost give into the pain: a burning, lactic-acidy type of discomfort. The pain is sharper and harder to break through (no thinking about dinner during a 400m repeat), but it almost feels more rewarding when you finally cross the line, having finished your last set, having only a cool-down and some stretching between you and…tacos.
Last week I gave some mile-repeats a go, and was surprised when my splits read 6:28, 6:23, 6:25, 6:22. I felt like I was flying. Today, I decided to do Yasso 800s — a workout that is supposed to predict your marathon time (though some disagree). I planned for 8 x 3:20, but ended up with 3:17, 3:17, 3:18, 3:15, 3:19, 3:11, 3:13, 3:11. It was absolutely gorgeous out, and between taking the day off before and getting a solid eight hours of sleep, I felt great. And for what it’s worth, even the hardest track workouts that have me dry-heaving between reps don’t knock me out when I get home. If anything, I feel more energized, my appetite isn’t out of control, and I’m not super sore. And there’s no stupid chafing or ice-baths or gu residue on my hands.(There’s still the turkey sandwich if I want it.)
On top of it all, I feel like the McCarren Park track is the closest thing that feels like ‘home’ here in New York City. I share my apartment with my roommate, my office with co-workers, and the subway with everyone and their dogs/cell-phones/Magnolia cupcakes. And while the track is most certainly public, it’s also insanely private – and a place for solitude. Nobody is really paying attention to what you’re doing; it’s this weird mix of community and detachment, and a place that I feel is truly ‘mine’ even with so many other people around.
It’s the one place where I can look around and truly love this city — while I run round and round, every step solidifying my love for the sport that gives me so much.
I am not sure many people know this, but I am absolutely terrified of flying. I think the fear developed right after TWA Flight 800 crashed off the south shore of Long Island in ’96. The image of Newsday’s front cover with the mangled plane still kind of haunts me, and was one of the first moments in my eight young years I realized that we humans are vulnerable to tragedy.
I’ve never had a really bad experience flying, and fly often enough that I’m not a total newb. Oddly (and luckily) my fear doesn’t stop me from getting on a plane, either. But after taking four flights over the long weekend, I realized the thoughts that go through my head are pretty crazy. SO, I would like to invite you into my fear-induced brain, if just for a few moments. And maybe I’ll learn that I’m not alone?
(side note: I am completely aware that my thoughts are irrational and that flying is extremely, extremely safe.)
Things that scare the crap out of me.
The noises. I interpret every noise to be one that means “something’s wrong.” I have also decided that due to my flying once every few months, I can understand a plane’s erratic beeping and moaning better than any flight attendant or pilot. And when I’m sitting in the back and I hear something “suspicious,” I can only assume the pilot up front can’t hear it, and it’s up to me to tell him and save everybody’s life.
Flying through clouds. If we’re so advanced that we can get a machine that weighs hundreds of thousands of pounds to just float in the air, clearly we can find a way to avoid the stupid rain clouds that make the ride super bumpy and induce severe panic.
Turbulence. I don’t care that turbulence is a “comfort issue, not a safety issue,” because something feels really abnormal when you’re high in the sky and the plane is bouncing around.
The seatbelt sign. When that stupid seatbelt sign turns on, I want to vomit. What’s even worse is when the sign is on and then is blinked on again. (Clearly this is a plane malfunction, which means only one thing: We’re going down.)
Circling before landing or extended taxi’ing before takeoff. Wasting precious fuel. We could run out!
Things that make me feel better.
Abnormally happy flight attendants. There’s nothing more comforting than a super happy flight attendant who is smiling down the aisle in heels and serving drinks during turbulence. I study their faces to a scary degree, trying to sense any glimpse of discomfort or worry. And I never find it.
People who read newspapers. Are you that dude who continues to read his newspaper while the plane is shaking like crazy? HOW do you do it? And can you show me how, too?
Drugs and alcohol. Together, preferably. I find one Valium and two gin and soda’s usually does the trick, though I prefer flying sober so I don’t feel super groggy and out of it when (and IF) I land.
My mentors. Poor souls who get to sit next to me. I make fast friends, usually warning people ahead of time that I may very well grab their arm or ask them to strike up a conversation with me. On a quick flight from Chicago to Milwaukee, we flew through a storm (WHY) and after a few “fun” drops and shakes, the guy next to me could see I was shaking uncontrollably and decided to tell me all about his favorite players on the Packers. Another dude on my way back kept calling me Natalie for “jokes” because apparently I look like Natalie Dormer, and then proceeded to tell me how he was in a plane crash when was eight. (He did not pass the “good mentor” test.)
Getting a good photo. If I’m going to have a full-fledged panic attack on the plane, might as well get some pretty photos out of it. Here’s one on my way to Oregon, and another from Costa Rica.
I definitely got my fill of adventure in this summer. I hiked the AT (with a bear), hung out with my Grandma in Florida, spent a weekend out east with friends, and juuust got back from a wedding in Greenbay. Some other things of note: buying a bed, naked yoga, Coney Island and lots of park-hopping, spending quality #yolo time with Danielle before she moved to LA, spending time with a new/wonderful roommate, hanging with three too many gentlemen and having a silent panic attack, and lots of chips + guac + gin for dinner.
Still, I couldn’t help but be a little relieved when the calendar flipped to September. As much as I love summer, I feel this weird pressure to havesomuchfunallthetime — to be super social while getting shit done at work, keeping your health in check (aka not chips for dinner) and clocking in a bunch of miles. I can easily kind of hate new york, so I almost need to stay super busy, almost need to forget my summer days are mainly spent in the concrete jungle instead of somewhere else less…city.
With fall, I feel like things settle down a bit. Expectations slow down, the weather cools off, and all the things best about it — changing leaves, pumpkin everything, apple picking, etc — come into full force. So while trying not to re-state the obvious, here’s what I’m looking forward to most this beautiful, beautiful autumn:
I love that it is dark when I wake up. I know that might sound a bit weird, but it’s mainly because my blind broke a few months ago. Instead of trying to fix it, I just deal with the sun waking me up times way too early. So now…I may be able to sleep a little longer, especially on the weekends.
I can finally, truly enjoy hot coffee. I brew coffee every morning, but sometimes it has been less than enjoyable to sip on a piping mug of coffee while the temperature is well into the 90′s outside. Iced coffee just isn’t my thing, so I’m happy to enjoy my hot coffee in slightly better conditions. Speaking of..
I will have a significantly lower electric bill. Stupid AC. I tried to make a rule that I wouldn’t turn on my AC until 11pm, and only if it was “an 8 or higher” on my scale of “what are the chances you will not be able to sleep because it is so hot out.”
Scarves and sweaters. Simply the best. I like being bundled, cozy, layered, and warm.
I can cook without it being 80 bajillion degrees in my apartment. Nothing like roasting some vegetables and having two skillets going and NOT having this significantly lower my mood because of the amount I’m sweating/the amount of clothes I am not wearing.
Mulled wine and hot toddy’s coming back in season. These are two of my favorite things.
Perfect running weather / marathon season. Saved the best (and probably most obvious) for last. I can’t waaaait to start going on longer runs, especially in the morning. And not being confined to the treadmill. And watching everyone start to peak train, taper, and then crush their marathon goals while I #fomo and probably try to register for Boston… (: