Who says you can't run from your troubles?

It has come to my attention that not many people understand why some people run, or even work out at all. Guys at work think that just because it's winter we should all sit around and be lazy. I'm reminded that had I not been in excellent physical condition when I had my surgery, I would not have healed as quickly or as well. I think that's one of the best reasons to not just stay healthy, but strive to be in amazing shape. You never know when you'll have to deal with either physical or mental trauma, and being healthy and in shape can only help you get through that. Facing the daily onslaught of "why don't you just not run today? do it tomorrow! and so forth, I wrote down some of the most important reasons for why I lace up my tennis shoes when it's cold outside, or hot, or snowing or whatever.

I run because my days of swimming 2-3 hours a day, 6 days a week, are over and I need something to help quiet my mind and help me sleep at night. I run because I'm not naturally gifted with the strength and speed of a mountain goat and the next time I hump 40 lbs of gear up the hill may be my last. I run to forget what's best forgotten and to remember what worth remembering. I run to forgive those who have wronged me, and most importantly, to forgive myself. I know what it feels like to be unable to take a deep breath, so I run in order to fill my lungs with as much air as possible. I run so that I know that my legs can take me miles from where I stand, while some people are unable to walk at all. I run to let off steam, or prevent it from building in the first place so that I don't kill the next guy who ticks me off. So the next time I say I have to fit a run into my schedule, don't try to talk me out of it. The life you save may very well be your own.

Hell, Part I

I live in "God's country", where trees instead of buildings line the horizon and meth labs run by tweakers and pot heads are hidden blemishes beneath goopy concealer that's one shade too light. Noah lives down the road in Lockwood Valley and his ark is parked in his driveway; I saw it on my 5 mile run this morning. He's waiting for the valley to be washed out and all the heathens with it and I don't doubt the ark is filled with heavy artillery. I believe I'm only one of 6 people who don't drop acid in this town of 200 that has 3 churches and no Starbucks. Self-described back country folk talk down about the city and its dirty crime and heartless citizens, but I've seen more filth and ugliness in small towns than I ever have in large cities. In cities it's proportional; in small towns it takes over like the Plague. You can see it in their pocked faces, rotted teeth and fried hair, with their eyes not set quite right and their expressions hardened into a permanent sneer. You see it in their six children and subsequent marriages that hang on despite the beatings, cheatings and drunken fights.

I pound the rubber soles of my tennis shoes against hard pavement, dodging stares from everyone who's wondering why on God's green earth anyone would be out exercising on Christmas when it's one more day you could be tweaking at home without having to call in sick to work. Sorry folks, Santa didn't leave crack in my stocking this year so I'm loading up on endorphins and a nice big cup of "I'm getting the fuck out of here" with all the money I'm saving by living in this hell-hole.

The county sheriff hardly patrols the streets anymore because they know if they arrested everyone who broke the law, this place would become a ghost town and there'd be no one to serve the masses of snow bunnies that flock in from the valleys everytime we get an inch of snow. The town caters to the outsiders they hate because they know it brings in the only business they'll ever see, outside of the gas stations posted by the freeway. The snow bunnies see this town as a paradise of fluffy snow covering a forest of trees and cute little shops with small town names like "A Spot of Bead" and "The Screaming Squirrel". Stay awhile and you may find there's more "snow" to be bought if you knock on the door of one of the shacks at the end of the unkempt dirt roads that weave through town. The best view I ever saw of this place was from the rear view mirror as I shifted gears and stepped on the gas. Take a photo of that.

Leaping

Every once in awhile, I like to take blind leaps into the unknown. I have no idea where I got it from, and some might say it's my sense of adventure. But let's not kid ourselves. We all know blind leaps don't always go as one hopes.

Case in point: a blind leap got me to lovely Frazier Park. While I have developed a few very awesome friendships that I wouldn't give up for the world, it has also brought me quite a bit of hardship and negativity.

Leap two landed me in the bathtub in the middle of winter with the window open, locked in the bathroom to get fresh air. Apparently my roomate thinks it kind to disguise her pothead ways with large doses of incense that unfortunately for myself and the dog, got swept into the air intake vent and pumped into the living room where we were both sitting peacefully. When I realized where it was coming from I shut off the heater and opened both my bathroom window and my bedroom window. I'm so thrilled that we have another winter storm moving in. If this keeps up I'm pitching a tent in the back yard and taking the dog with me. I think he's getting high in the living room as we speak. Maybe we'll get burried under a couple feet of snow and I won't have to go in to work. Brilliant idea.

So what am I going to do about this mess? I'm going to do what I do best: leap. This morning I put in a couple applications for hotshot crews in Salt Lake City, Fort Collins, Durango, Flagstaff and Prescott. Damn right I'm feeling froggy. Ribbit.

Merry Christmas!

I'm here in beautiful Frazier Park (insert sarcasm here) enjoying the peace and quiet that this holiday has brought me.... besides the sound of Dylan snoring while using my foot as a pillow. It's really quite cute. Dylan is my friend (and roomate) Shelly's dog, and Shelly is in Wisconsin for the holidays. Unfortunately I don't run as fast nor as far as Shelly so I'm having a hard time wearing him out. Dylan is Australian Shepherd and Border Collie mix and has herding blood in him like you wouldn't believe. Corey also has a herding dog, but at least he's smaller and has less of an effect on the direction of your path. I had a super cute picture of Dylan moping from our too-slow run yesterday (too slow for him anyway) but it's on my phone and I can't figure out how to get it from my phone to my computer. Dylan is the most well behaved dog I know... unless he has some bottled up energy to release. Then he forgets his manners and etiquette and can be quite frustrating.

Take yesterday's run for example. I was already cranky and sore from a 5 mile hike (with a 45lb weight vest on) and had several blisters on each foot. I got home and still had a 5 mile run to do, that both Dylan and my current marathon training plan were depending on. Well everywhere in Frazier Park is uphill, and my house sits at 4,500 ft...and only goes up from there. Dylan doesn't seem to mind the hills...or the altitude. He's used to running marathons at a 7 min pace with Shelly. And he's a herding dog. Imagine my frustration as he herded me up and down the hills of Frazier Park while I attempted to keep him out of the traffic. I had his leash clipped around my waist, and he knew it. So he grabbed the leash with his teeth and pulled me up the hills. Yes that does make it easier to run up the hills but at some point it gets irritating as well.

He's also well trained to run along side the roads. We run on the left side, facing oncoming traffic. When a car comes, I say "Get over" and Dylan gets off the road and onto the shoulder. This only made it that much more difficult when I decided that for our safety, on the way back we would run with traffic being as it was the only side of the road with any shoulder at all. Dylan didn't agree. He grabbed the leash in his teeth again and yipped at me to cross the street. We were at a curvy area where we'd be sure to be hit by a car if we were on the other side, so I disobeyed him. That didn't make him any happier and for some reason we were heading back uphill (seriously, uphill both ways) so I got cranky again. We continued to argue about the situation until we finally crossed the street.

Today was a shorter but slightly faster run. At least this time he was actually breathing hard when we got home. Yesterday we got home and he was yawning from boredom. I think he needs a treadmill.

Running in the altitude and almost always uphill is making me an angry runner (yes, I know how you feel now Corey). Not to mention there's not really a whole lot of running routes in Frazier Park except for the trails out in the mountains. Besides being at much higher altitudes (6,000-8,000 ft) there's also no one out there to rescue me if attacked by a mountain lion or bear. As much faith as I have in Dylan, they might outweigh him by a couple hundred pounds. Other than that, the running consists of either high speed roads (the safer bet) or running through town (not so safe). No one runs in Frazier Park, and it shows. I get some pretty crazy stares from the locals who can see I'm so obviously not from around here. We just recently got sidewalks put in in town but they only go about half a mile or so. And since no one expects runners to be on the road (or any pedestrians at all) they drive as if vehicles are the only things out there.

Yeah, actually.

I went for a walk along the beach with Debbie today and it invoked an epiphany. I love my epiphanies, especially the good ones. And here's what it comes down to...

I didn't think I was ready to move back to San Diego because I feel if I do it will be for good. I'll buy a house or condo and spend the rest of my life hanging out with my friends, surfing year round (especially in the winter when I have more free time) and permanently joining a masters swim team. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find a guy who won't mind hanging out with me and having something sort of resembling a healthy relationship- but that's not as important as the fore mentioned items. I didn't feel I was ready for all that because it means I'm settling down, and who wants that? Am I getting old? I feel like I'm too young to be settling down. And by settling down, I'm not talking about with a guy. Let's just get that straight. I mean finding a place where I could live out the majority of what's left of my life, except for when I retire and I plan on moving to Mexico or Florida or some other exotic place like that, start smoking cigars, playing poker and dating men younger than 30. But that's still years down the road.

But then I started thinking about what I want out of life and what I'm getting out of it now.

By the way, maybe this epiphany really came from the coffee shop by Crystal Pier. They have really amazing mochas. I think Debbie did this to me on purpose, it's a conspiracy.

Back on topic, when I left to move to Frazier Park I needed a change. Let's back up a little. Most of you have heard this story before but I need to explain it to those who haven't. My Grandmother tells me I'm part Bohemian. I had to look it up because my mother told me that just meant Polish. Well it doesn't. Long story short, Bohemians became gypsies because they were chased out of their land and the country became one of the many "Slovakias" that are over in that part of the world. Or something like that. So as genetics usually go, the gypsy trait was passed to some, carried by others, but also missed quite a few. I was one of the "lucky" ones to inherit this restless trait. Yes, I get restless. Has anyone seen the movie "Chocolat"? Exactly.

What does all this mean? That the thought of living the rest of my life in the same place terrifies me. I feel like that means I've decided I'm through with what life has to offer and I'm ready to settle into the place of my death. I know, it's absolutely ridiculous but I can't help it. So chances are, even if (when) I move back here, I'll find some other way to wander off into strange places where I don't know anybody. It's in my blood, what can I say?

Where was I going with all this? Oh yeah. So I was thinking about what I want my life to be and where I'm at now, and more importantly- what I'm NOT getting out of life right now. I want to be near my friends. For several reasons:
1. If anything happens to me or one of them, we need to be close so we can take care of each other.
2. We can have girls night without me having to drive 3 hours or get on a plane. Girls night should be more frequent.
3. I can just meet up with one of them for coffee without having to plan weeks ahead of time.
4. Sometimes girls need emergency hugs and bottles of wine and that also can't be done long distance.

I also need to be near the ocean. Yes, you heard me right. I NEED to be near the ocean. Also somehow in my blood. I think if you breathe enough ocean air, it gets absorbed into your blood system or something. Do you know how long it's been since I surfed? No wonder why my vein collapsed, it didn't have enough ocean water in it!!

I need to be near a pool. Another absolute need here. Extensive research on myself and my moods has revealed a huge difference between the me with chlorine and the me without. We're talking a chemical dependency here. There's no pools in Frazier Park. Not to mention that I spent $24 on two Heartland Masters Swim Team swim caps and I left San Diego before the order came in. So somewhere there's two swimcaps with my name (literally) written on them. I'm sure they've been thrown away by now, but that's not the point. I need to get back on a swim team. It's good for me. It's cheap therapy.

I need to be in a city. It's important for me to have access to all the important things: trauma centers and hospitals, grocery stores, sushi restaurants, DSW, Target, and post offices that deliver mail directly to your door. Imagine that, by the way. Don't our taxes pay for those guys to deliver our mail? I don't pay taxes so that I have to drive on the ice and snow to get to the post office to pick up my mail out of my post office box. I thought only people with stalkers had post office boxes. Not so. In Frazier Park, everyone has one, or they don't get mail. Even on paved roads!

And while we're on the subject, I'm now working on banning myself from ice and snow altogether. I know right now that's kind of impossible, but it's for my own health, safety and emotional well-being. It's depressing, it's dangerous, and it's cold. Ice kills more people per year than toasters in bath tubs. I made that up. I tried to research it, but apparently "ICE" can also mean Immigration and Customs Enforcement, or be in reference to crystal meth. People die from both of those as well I guess.

Also, the quality of gyms in Frazier Park reminds me of the small stuffy gyms we had in high school. Not very impressive.

I had to buy a "trainer" for my bicycle in order to ride it year round in Frazier Park (FP). It converted it into an indoor bicycle. Maybe I need to live where I can ride it year round.

If the electricity goes out in San Diego, it's not usually a big deal. If it goes out in FP, I can literally die of hypothermia. At my age, that's not really a legit way to die. Kinda stupid if you ask me. And no, I can't start a fire in the middle of my living room, people. Then I would die of carbon monoxide poisoning.

So here's my plan. I'd really like to take another stab at Redding Hotshots, but I've got a feeling (for a couple reasons) that my home unit (FP) is not going to allow me to go. If they do let me go, I'll decide after this summer where it is I'm going to next. And that may or may not be San Diego. If they don't allow me to go, I'm going to seriously consider moving back to San Diego. I think I'm ready. Or at least ready for now. I guess I can still reserve the right to pack up and leave if the itch comes back (and it probably will). And I can always take vacations to strange, faraway lands in order to satisfy the urge.

So that's my epiphany as well as I'm able to describe it. That means no ladies, I'm not leaving for good.