Falling into Fall (literally)

I’ve missed you guys.

I apologize for my shady absence, but I was out living pretty damn hard this past Labor Day Weekend.

And now my body is desperately trying to find normal again, whatever normal is these days. 6 AM alarms have felt like 4 AM alarms the past three days, but it was well worth it. Mentally, it was more needed than I could have ever realized.

Physically? Physically it confused my body. Today it’s still asking me if the abundance of drinks – umbrella beach drinks, coronas with tangy limes, shots of whiskey – if all that was really necessary. Confused as to why I was eating philly cheesesteaks for breakfast on the beach, and chasing it with a cannoli.

That’s not a joke, I promise it happened.

Asking if not one, but almost two nights of no sleep was really necessary.

It was.

Because laying in bed next to my best friends, ranting about our dreams and our fears and asking the hard ‘why’ questions outweighs any night of sleep. Because sprinting into the ocean in the dim moonlight, with nothing between the waves and our skin… that’s living like we were made to live. And sitting in that sand, hand in hand, watching our beautiful sun start to peak over the edge of the water and sprinkling sparkles over the waves… that will knock any amount of sleep out of the water.

 You can take my pillow, I’ll take the memories.

The memories of standing in a gas station parking lot the next day, having my knee scrubbed free of asphalt and sand while tears of laughter and pain run down all three of our faces. The asphalt that I met at 4 AM on the way to the beach, in a dead sprint. The lost skin was worth it. The scars that will form will bring me joy, not sadness.

Dancing to the point of perhaps reinducing stress fractures in my feet? Worth it. Waking up with sore ribs and abs from laughing late into the night will bring me more pride than any p90x you want to throw at me.  

There was a re-prioritization that happened in my head this weekend, slowly. My health is so important to me. But locking myself up in my room for 3 weeks straight in order to sugar detox? That isn’t as important as living this life that is so freaking short. Celebrating the gifts we were given, the friendships we are blessed with, this amazing earth we live on.

I’m not saying I’ve punted. I’m currently sipping tea as I type this, absent-mindedly making my paleo-like list for the grocery store. By the way, we did make some healthy pumpkin bars this past weekend … and ate the entire pan by noon that same day. They were excellent.

Recipe linked here

I’ll wrap this up, I could go on forever. I’m so blessed to have my wolves. I’m lucky to have this life I live, no matter how hard and shitty it may seem at times. I’m excited that it’s fall, and for what it brings; both the good and the bad. It’s a season of change, not only as the leaves color and fall, but within my own life.

Thank you all for doing life with me. I will always try my hardest to publish my full self on this tiny little domain, hence the semi-romantic rant I just went on. I’m glad I’m back, I’m glad football is back, and I’m so, so glad that tomorrow is already Friday.

What are the thoughts on the new layout? Props to my girl Kailyn, she worked her magic pretty dang hard. Get in touch with her if you're looking for a blog makeover.

Cheers my friends.

K8

Labor Day 2012.

I’m exceptionally great at throwing pity parties for myself. It’s not something I often brag about.

however I will brag about how badass I look in this picture.

 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 so forth.

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.

the crib.

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. No, I didn’t cry on my drive to work.

surfer girls

beach bums

I’m an incredibly emotional being; much more than your average bear. I’m well aware of this, so is my boyfriend. I can’t mask how I feel, ever, and I’m horrifically bad at acting like I’m OK when I’m not. It’s actually a quality that I like about myself, no joke.

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.

getting trolled.

I’m ending that cycle. Because that’s life; it’s always going to be hard, there’s always going to be ups and downs. There’s always going to be periods of sadness and loneliness, yet there will ALWAYS be something to look forward to. No matter what shape or size that may come in. Because as I found myself recently saying to a friend… there’s no joy without trials.

Bethany Beach, Labor Day, 2012.

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.

Cheers!