I’m exceptionally great at throwing pity parties for myself. It’s not something I often brag about.
This weekend was absurd. And when I say absurd, I mean
absolutely epic. And when I say epic, I mean that you probably don’t even want to
know 75% of the things that were said/done/eaten/drank. Etc., etc., so on and
|however I will brag about how badass I look in this picture.|
I wasn’t sure what to expect from these past few days. Andrew and I had never been to Bethany Beach before; we booked the house through an online agency. I was placing our fate in some pictures and reviews that I had read online.
Damn I’m good.
I don’t feel the urge to write a novel on the weekend; that’s usually how I feel about weekends that are mind-blowing. I’ll just show you guys some of my favorite pictures; those are worth 1,000 words anyways, right?
whose that strange girl with the glow-in-the-dark face paint and the shades on, in da club? no idea.
|clearly, that was my go-to face for the weekend.|
And now, we arrive back to where we started. The pity party topic. This morning I dropped my wolf pack back off at BWI and said goodbye (once more) to three friends who I would easily consider sisters.
There’s really no moral to this story, no point to this post than to half vent/half work through how I’m feeling, current state. I had a great weekend, with great, great people. I didn’t work out, I made poor life choices that I don’t regret, and I’m now getting sick because of them. I still don’t regret them. I refuse to fall into this cycle that has slowly been evolving over the past few months; being sad and feeling bad for myself, throwing a pity party until I arrive again to a weekend with friends/fun that cheers me up, being happy and then immediately falling off the deep end into sadness shortly after.
Last but not least, I didn’t run this weekend... unless you count running into the waves full force, and crashing back onto the beach. I cranked out a sweaty 18 miles before we headed out of town on Friday, and haven’t laced up my shoes since. I don’t feel bad; the ocean undoubtedly gave me a hard core workout all three days, as my abs are still sore.
Not to mention the whip lash. However, I can’t help but point out that
part of my sadness is likely due to the lack of running. Because running makes me happy, simply put. So I’m banking on my seven miles tonight for a
quick lift of my spirits as well.
Thanks for listening. I can always count on you guys for that.