I can’t possibly express in words how unabashedly happy I am at this moment to be sitting in a comfy pair of sweatpants, in my new Phillies’ t-shirt (confession: I just had to look down to figure out whether it’s spelled with an “ie” or a “y”), with a half a glass of wine and a heaping bowl of greens. It’s been four weeks and counting since I’ve last been in my new apartment on a weekend, and although I’m still having trouble seeing it as such, I’m nevertheless glad to be just chillin’ at “home.”
Everything they say about turning 27 is true. The year (and this summer, specifically) has been packed to the brim with weddings galore.
Over the last four weeks, Noah and I traveled to three. Each one, might I add, was in a separate city.
(Definitely not in
Kansas Philadelphia anymore.)
In this somewhat frazzled state of being — driving from one wedding to another, and throwing a few frantic airport situations in the mix — I’ve been running and working out as a means of simply staying in shape. That’s a tough concept for me to digest. For the longest time, running has been my solace. To run without a sense of calm has made me feel as though I need to learn how to walk again.
With everything that’s been going on though, I’ve hardly had the time to think in the shower let alone think while on the run. As for the weekends, well, let’s just say the workouts have been sparse. From upstate New York to St. Louis to the vineyards of western Michigan, the hardest workouts I’ve partaken in have been lifting the wine glass from the table to my mouth. Let me tell you, my biceps look better than ever. (Cue the sarcasm police right meow.)
On the bright side, whereas I had been feeling homesick since moving from New York to Philadelphia, the last few weekends have been filled with friends both new and old.
Dancing Stumbling over my feet with my best bud from college.)
First, there was my best childhood friend’s wedding (how cliche sounding is that). This wedding was in the Catskills. I drank a lot of wine and ate a lot of cheese.
Then two weekends ago, it was St. Louis. I did not run, drank Bloody Mary’s at breakfast and ate a lot of BBQ.
And finally this past weekend, I was in New Buffalo Michigan for a bachelorette party (no running, just vineyard-ing) followed by Ann Arbor. I was in Ann Arbor for three days, and I managed to sneak in just one glorious run. This was an absolute must for me. Ann Arbor is where I learned to love running, and every time I return, I make a serious effort to cover off on my No. 1 favorite river-side route. Obviously, I ended it on The University of Michigan campus.
By the time I got home on Sunday night, I was exhausted. I managed to wake up on Monday morning and bang out 5.5 miles along the Schuylkill. On Tuesday, I could have thrown my iPhone out the window I was so annoyed at the sound of my alarm.
That brings us to Tuesday night.
I had three options on Tuesday after work:
5:30 Vinyasa Yoga
I literally planned all day to go to any class at the gym (yes, I joined a gym; I know, soooo unlike me) besides bootcamp. But then, 5:30 rolled around, and I was still buried in work. And then 6:30 slowly approached, and as much as I wanted to bounce, I simply couldn’t. 6:45 bootcamp it would be.
Now, I’ll keep my review short. I’ve done my fair share of Jillian Michaels videos from my living room floor. I’ve squatted, I’ve kicked, I’ve grunted and wanted to pass out. I’ve laughed my way through Hot Figure 4 class in Manhattan, knowing full well that I couldn’t complete more than 25% of the movements.
But never in my life have I wanted to just punch someone in the face and walk out of the room like I wanted to tonight. It’s not that it was hard; it’s that I didn’t like being told what to do. Not after being in an office all day. Not after flying back and forth across the country all week. Not after being unable to exercise at my leisure and run at a grandmas-are-faster-than-me pace. I wanted to run the show again, and this outspoken bootcamp instructor just wouldn’t let me do my thing. (I supposed that’s her job, but that’s neither here nor there.)
Anyway, it’s been a long, long journey since I got married, switched jobs, moved to Philadelphia, traveled to Croatia (I know, I still owe you several recaps from my honeymoon), and hit up three weddings in a four-week span. Maybe it took bootcamp to kick me in the pants and knock this into my head, but for now, I think I’m ready to return to my beloved morning run. Put me in coach. I wanna fly.
I usually turn to running during stressful or busy periods of my life, but for some reason, when I moved, I pushed it away. Have you ever found it more difficult to run under crazed or overwhelming circumstances?