This weekend I had my long run. The plan was 12 miles, first 4 at an easy pace, middle 4 at marathon race pace and then the last 4 easy.
My first problem was that I had to work Saturday morning from 7-11am. I made this plan that I would get done at 11 and be ready to run at noon because I didn’t want to do my run on Sunday. So out the door I went. I was feeling pretty good for it being noon! All I could think about the first 4 miles was that from miles 4-8 I was going to have to run a 9:09 pace and my legs felt like lead. This could be rough. Then I discovered it was WINDY!!! At one point I had tears running down my face from the wind. I was about 1 mile from my parents and contemplated running over to their house and calling it quits at mile 4. Mile 4 guys. I stopped running and stood on the sidewalk. To get to my parents house I was going to have to battle the wind. I decided I needed to stop being a wimp and started running again.
New plan. Screw running the middle miles at a faster pace, I just wanted to get 12 miles in someway. After my first meltdown the run seemed to go by quickly. It wasn’t great, but I was also happy that I was getting it over with! My total time was 2:01:25 with average pace of 10:07. I was quite happy with that.
After my run I decided to really focus on my goals for the new year.
Run a sub 4 at St. Louis
Read at least 2 books per month and focus less on Netflix
Budget more and start saving for a house
Get more involved with the church I attend (and actually attend)
In the spring of 2015, I decided to throw my name into the Chicago Marathon lottery. I have awful luck, so I figured there was not a chance I’d get in. But people always go on and on about how much fun Chicago is, so I figured why not? I ran St. Louis, I can do Chicago too. Right?
Of course the day I got the confirmation that my name had been drawn, I started doubting it. Anyone that has run it before knows it costs a lot of money, and you don’t get refunds. After much debate with my mom, she convinced me that that I SHOULD do it because it was an opportunity. We figured we’d get a hotel close to the start line, and my cousin would meet up with us to help us get around Chicago.
Training for Chicago sucked. It just flat out SUCKED. I learned that I am not a summer runner. My body shuts down in the heat and bad things happen. So many times I thought I had heat exhaustion and stroke. I’m also not a morning person. I work 2nd shift, so waking up to beat the heat never seemed to work.
And then I got walking pneumonia. Kicked my butt. Even after the meds, it took at least 3 more weeks for my body to perform normal. My running wasn’t happening and I remember one night crying because I knew I’d have to drop out from Chicago. I was pissed. Pissed that my body wasn’t cooperating with me. Didn’t it know that I wanted to run this race? Didn’t it know how much money I shelled out for this?!
A couple weeks out from Chicago, I had also signed up for the Pleasant Creek 30k Trail Run. I knew it was a trail race (obviously) but I was cocky and figured no biggie. I’ve done 18 miles before. WRONG. This race. This race was hard. So many hills. So much mud. So much complaining. The course is 9 miles…so we had to do 2 laps. That’s just sick. The whole time I was running the first lap I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had to do it again. At the halfway, I was ready to be done. But, I trekked on and somehow finished. It literally took me 4:10:33. When I got home my family wanted to know what had took me so long (I was not pleased).
Anyways. I figured if I could survive that, I could buck up and run Chicago. So off we went. My mom and I picked up my cousin and her daughter and headed to our hotel. We then had to meet up with the shuttles to take us to the expo. Since I was only used to St. Louis, I was annoyed with how long the whole process took. But really, it went smooth. After we headed out to get me some pizza!!
I was definitely nervous for this race, considering how training went. There was not 1/2 marathon for this race, so I knew I either had to finish the whole thing, or get a ride back to the finish. That was not an option. The morning of the race my mom and I argued a lot. I was nervous. She was annoyed with all the people. SO MANY PEOPLE. I of course didn’t read my instructions wrong and got in the wrong security line. Fortunately they let me in. Running St. Louis was so simple…you didn’t have to go through security or be down at the start line so early. I waited for what seemed like an eternity. Peed 5 million times because I get paranoid, and finally they were calling for wave 2 to start. 20 minutes later and I finally crossed the start line. I knew things could go wrong because I was already hungry. Not a good sign. I saw my mom and cousin at the 3 mile mark first. For some reason I teared up after I passed them. Probably because I knew I still had 23 miles to go. No biggie.
The next miles were interesting. I did a lot of weaving and was shocked at how many people there were running and watching. I know people love this race for the crowd support, but after running it I decided it’s not my thing. Way too many people for me. Somewhere around mile 10 I knew I’d have to pee. I found some porta pottys, and made my way over. I opened the door and bad things happened. Someone else had previously used it and made, um, a mess. I instantly started gagging. I have the worst gag reflex ever. So then I started trying to calm myself down, while crying and gagging. I decided it wasn’t worth, it. I’d have to find another porta potty. I came stumbling out and almost threw up. I decided to keep running on, because I’d wasted enough time. Luckily up ahead a business was letting runners use their nice regular toilets. THANK THE GOOD LORD. Next stop was 13.1. I knew my mom and cousin would be there and I couldn’t wait to get rid of my spibelt. It was driving me up a wall.
After taking my spibelt off, I realized it had been holding up my shorts. So I spent the next couple miles trying to get my shorts to stay up. LOLZ. Hot mess. I knew I’d get to see family again around mile 18 and that kept me going. But then, it all fell apart. You see, Chicago has lots of smells. And when you have a sensitive nose and stomach, bad things happen. I was literally gagging WHILE running. I also had a slight anxiety attack because the support crowds were so thick, I felt like there was no room for me to walk on the side and just breath. Tears came at some point. I just kept telling myself that when I saw my family at mile 18, that was it. I was done. I just didn’t care anymore.
But then mile 18 came and I didn’t see my mom or my cousin. I thought maybe they had gone ahead to mile 19. Nope. Mile 20? Nope. Are you kidding me?! I have to freaking finish this race. That means I still have 6.2 miles. UGH!!!!! It was also at this point that the aid stations started running out of gaterade. Not cool friends. Not cool. I proceeded to do a walk/run method for the next hour of my life. And then I just ran. My legs were numb and I just wanted to cross that finish line. Somehow I made it. Not even close to the time I wanted, but I did it. Got myself a bag of ice and limped to meet up with the family.
Overall, Chicago was an experience. Will I ever run it again? Not real sure. For now I’ll stick with smaller races 🙂
I began tossing around the idea of a marathon after my 4th 1/2. I saw it as a challenge and wanted to prove I could do it. After all, I never thought I would be able to survive 13.1, so why not 26.2? I started planning out my training program using Hal Higdon. Most of the plans are 16 weeks, but I wanted to start early in case I got sick, or had a set back. I did end up having set backs in regards to my endometriosis, but overall this training went better than I ever imagined. It was so fun to run distances I had never run before. Even my first 20 miler went great.
People thought I was crazy to run in the winter, but I prefer it. I do not run well in heat. I learned all about the joys of chaffing in unwanted areas, runners trots, black toenails, losing toenails, and runs that never ended. I learned what to eat and what not to eat and how your body really can get dehydrated in cold temperatures.
For weeks leading up to the race, I researched blogs about the St. Louis Marathon. I obsessively checked the weather and race maps. And of course, I doubted my ability to do this. If worse came to worse, I’d drop out at the 1/2 way point.
We headed out to St. Louis on Saturday and met up with my sister & 2 nephews. Despite the fact that you’re supposed to save your feet, we walked the 1 mile to the expo to get my packet. All day I was gagging from nerves. It was rather attractive. We got my packet, and headed on back to the hotel to figure out dinner.
My meal before long runs had become pizza and diet coke. So pizza it was. I ate so.much.pizza. But I was still so nervous it wasn’t enough. Maybe I hadn’t trained enough. What if I get really bad cramps from the endo and I can’t finish? What if I disappoint all my friends and family who have supported me through this?
Surprisingly, I slept well. Woke up, gagging as usual. Somehow gagged my bagel + peanut butter & coffee down. Obsessively layered on Ruby’s Lube to prevent chafing. Checked my ipod and garmin religiously, and headed down. My mom walked down with me to see me off, while my sister stayed at the hotel with the 2 boys. The plan was they would see me at the halfway point (at our hotel) and then the finish. I was sort of bummed that they wouldn’t be able to see me in different spots along the way, but with kids it’s hard.
I tried to keep my cool as I waited for the race to start. I just kept telling myself to take it 1 mile at a time. That’s all I had to do. The race course was brand new this year, so I didn’t fully know what to expect. At mile 3, I had the biggest panic attack of my life. We crossed a bridge (new to the course) and my legs literally felt like they were in quick sand. They were shaking and I could barely move. I thought for sure the race was over for me, something was wrong with my legs. I noticed other people were talking, so I took my headphones out and realized everyone was experiencing it, the bridge was literally waving up and down from so many people on it. PHEW. It’s not me. I can do this. I put the headphones back in and plugged onward!
As I crossed the halfway point, I thought to myself “This is it. No turning back now.” My family cheered me on & offered my coconut donuts (LOL). By the way, these do not sound good after you’ve already consumed GU and your stomach is sloshing around.
I’m kind of glad I didn’t know what was coming. Hills. Hills were coming. The last 1/2 of the race takes you through Forest Park. AKA DEATH. The course weaved in and out, up and down all over the park. So many times I thought to myself, when do I get to leave this freaking park?! Around mile 20 I had to pee. So bad. My bladder was going to burst. But I knew that if I stopped, sat on a porta potty, I would never get back up. I forced myself not to think about it. I also decided at that point I could not, I would not, eat another GU. I started doing a no no in the world of running, and tried something new. Drinking Gatorade. Praise baby Jesus my body didn’t hate me for it. I also took a tramadol, because the endo cramps had started to kick in and I knew I could be in trouble.
One of my favorite moments from the race was meeting a guy (maybe in his 60’s) at a water stop. He started asking me about running and asked if this was my first full marathon. I said it was, and he told me how he had been running them for years. He told me how awesome I was doing and that I looked strong. He told me we could run together, so we did. We only stayed maybe 1 mile together, and he needed to walk. He then told me to go on, finish strong and be proud of myself. THIS. This is why I run. People are so encouraging and loving. They want you to succeed. It’s not about beating others, it’s about beating yourself. So I took off.
I was in the final freaking stretch. The finish line was so close. I blasted my music, and took off (it felt a lot faster than it was).
Holy crap. This was happening. I WAS FINISHING. I saw my family, waved, and pressed on. I finished in 4:39:28. I ran 26.2 miles. I actually did it.
This was by far my best marathon. Everything went as smooth as could be, and I finished strong. Thus started the tradition of running St. Louis every year.
A lot of my friends know that I have joined dating sites. Anyone that has done online dating knows there are a lot (and I mean a lot) of interesting people out there. Well, one fine day in October, I decided it was time for me to join. I go through stages where I think it’s the only way I’ll meet someone because I never go out. Plus, I made a pretty hefty goal of going on two dates in 2016. So far, I had been on one. I started talking to a guy, seemed normal. We chatted frequently, and then came the question. “Do you want to meet up and get to know one another?” I’m not going to lie, that’s usually where I draw the line. I don’t know why, but usually I cut off all communication the second they actually want to meet up. I have issues, I know.
This time I said sure. What did I want to do, he asked. Heck if I know, you’re the man, you pick .So he picked a brewery. That’s cool. I don’t really drink, but I’m game for trying something out of my norm. The day of our date came and I was silently freaking out. Dates mean I have to actually dress nice, do my hair, and wear a normal bra (as a personal trainer, sports bras are life). So I got all cute, researched beers and headed on out.
When we first met, I knew. I knew we weren’t going to be a good match. But at that point, what can you do? I had promised myself I would at least try, so I sat down. I ordered a beer (to which I ended up hating, but drank it anyway.) I forgot to mention the part where I had been so nervous all day, I had barely ate. I knew this was a stupid mistake, especially because I had a 10 mile race the next day. And not to mention I was drinking on an empty stomach. About half way through the beer, it started to hit me. I thought about not drinking anymore, but then I felt bad. This poor guy, who I knew I didn’t like, bought me a beer. I had to at least try to finish it (stupid). So I chugged on. After 2 someone painful hours, we parted ways. The second I got home I pigged out. I ate all the food. I had too, or else tomorrow morning would suck. I had a feeling it was already going to suck because my head slightly hurt from that 1 beer. This is what happens when you never drink. I set my alarm clock for an ungodly hour, and tried my hardest to doze off. Fail. I don’t think I barely slept 3 hours and that blasted alarm went off.
But I knew I had a goal to meet, and regardless of my pathetic dating life and regardless of my headache, I had to crush today. The weather was kind of crappy, spitting and raining and I couldn’t figure out what to wear. Spoiler alert; I def over dressed. I realized this at mile 1, but I wasn’t about to toss my favorite jacket.
I’m not used to pushing myself, so this whole race was uncomfortable. I had to battle my constant negative thoughts of how many more miles I had to maintain this pace. I was worried I would burn and crash. Around mile 5, I met a really nice lady. We kept “hunting” people down. We would pick out a victim and try to pass them. It made the time go by much quicker, and was fun. She doesn’t know it, but she was my rock that day. We pushed each other each mile. Without her, I would have walked. I ended up killing my goal time and came in at 1:24:26. I maintained an average pace of 8:27 and even won a medal for 2nd in my age division!!
So even though my date didn’t go as well as I had dreamed it would, my race did. And I realized that even though I still didn’t have a boyfriend/fiance/husband my life was just fine. In fact, it’s perfect.
My first ever Turkey Trot was 5 years ago. I signed up for the 8k and figured no biggie, only 5 miles. I didn’t really consider myself a runner at the time … in fact I barely ran. But I decided I could do that, it would be so awesome and I’d be SO fast. That was a good joke. Not even a mile in and I was silently crying to myself. Marion has more hills than I thought, and I ended up walking around the 1 mile mark. It was at that point that I decided I was dropping to the 4k because let’s be real, I wasn’t trained for this. That was probably one of my saddest races I’ve done and I felt so defeated.
The next year rolled around and I had started to run more often. I knew I had to redeem myself so I signed up again for the 8k. Race day came and I knew I could do this, and I did! I finished in 50:07. I was so dang proud of myself. It was after the race that I learned the top 3 finishers in each age group one a pumpkin pie! This started the tradition of me running every year. The next year I finished faster in 42:23! I missed the pie by one place and I was not very happy. So again, the next year I signed up and finished in 43:09. Not as fast at the previous year, and I definitely kicked myself for not starting up further in line. I had gotten stuck behind people and wasted a lot of valuable time weaving.
Over the next year, it became a serious goal. I HAD TO WIN THE PIE. The funny thing is, I don’t even like pumpkin pie. Even funnier, not that fructose upsets me, I can’t even eat it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was winning that dang pie. I woke up early race day and ran a warm up mile outside. My stomach was acting up a bit, so I was worried but I kept asking myself “How bad do you want it? I want the pie”
The race started and my legs were feelin’ fresh! I knew this was going to be my day. I finished the first mile in 8:13. I knew I had to keep that pace to beat my time last year, so I kept on pushing. Mile 2 beeped, and my watch showed 8:06. Awesome, only 3 to go. On the 3rd mile, I was shocked. 7:48. I don’t run miles in the 7’s pace. I started to get worried that I pushed too hard, but then I remembered that I had to give this my all. Mile 4; 7:58. A little slower but that’s cool. Only 1 more to go and I’m done. That last stretch I sprinted. I gave it my all, and finished the 5th mile in 7:31. My chip finish time was 39:27. I was so so happy with this, and wondered if it was in fact good enough for the pie. I waited in line to get the results. When I told the man my name he shouted WINNER! I won. I won a pumpkin pie!!!! I ended up coming in 3rd in my age group. It took my 5 years to hit my goal, but I did it. And next year, I’ll win again.
I’ve had this blog for awhile now, but really haven’t been consistent on actually blogging. I’m currently training for my 4th full marathon in St. Louis. The race is April 9th, which is about 14 weeks from now. I’m currently on week 2 of my training plan, so from here on out I plan to post regular updates on how my training is going. For anyone who has never done the St. Louis Marathon, it’s a blast! This will be 3rd year in a row running it. My very ambitious goal is under 4 hours. It’s a hefty goal, but I can do it.
This training is different than the previous because I found out that my body can’t digest fructose well. That means I’ve had to cut out a good chunk of my carbs. Anyone that runs knows you have to carbo load right?! I’m currently trying a keto (high fat, low carb diet) and surprisingly, it’s been great so far. My macros have been 75% fat, 15% protein and 10% carbs.
Week 1 & 2 of training are off to a great start so far! I love having goals and challenging myself. For the first 4 weeks of training I’m working on my balance skills 2-3x a week. Mostly this is involving body weight and single leg exercises to strengthen my whole body. This week the plan is as follows;
Monday; 5 Miles (easy) I did this on the treadmill (because BRR) and ran at a 10:00/mile
Tuesday; 5 Miles (1 mile warm up, 3 miles @ marathon race pace, 1 mile coold down) This was also done on the treadmill. Mile 1 & 5 were at a 10:00/mile pace and the middle 3 were at a (9:05 pace)
Wednesday; 4 Miles (easy) Ran outside at 9:56/mile
Thursday; 3 Miles (easy) Inside at 10:00/mile pace
Friday; Rest or Stair Stepper
Saturday; 12 Mile (long run) with middle 4 miles at marathon race pace
Obviously I haven’t yet done the long run. I’ll be sure to blog after that though because that will be the longest run I’ve done on a keto diet. Wish me luck!
I’ve considered myself pretty independent for the last 4 years or so. I do most things alone, and the things I don’t do alone I do with my mom. My mom has been one of my best friends for the past couple of years, we do lots of things together. Most of my weekends are spent with her because that’s who I’m most comforitable with. But, there are some things that she can’t do with me; I need to do them alone. I’ve been tossing around the idea of attnending a church again now that my running schedule has cleared up and I’m free Sunday mornings. The thing is though, it scares me to go alone.
Now, I grew up going to church, but that was completely different. Growing up there were always kids or youth activites to attend meaning I always had someone else who was going through the same thing and needed a friend. As a young adult I feel lost. Most churches have college groups but then once you graduate you enter a whole new field. A field of individuals that are either “couples” or “singles”. I’m obviously not a couple. The thing that bothers me about the “singles” group is that I feel like it comes with a “HI I’M SINGLE AND WANT TO DATE” sign above me head. Sure, I want to find a husband, but right now I’m content with being alone. I want to find friends, that’s it.
So tomorrow I embark on a new adventure; I’m going to church. Alone. It’s scary, but I know deep down I can do it. I’ll end with a lovely screenshot of my sister’s advice to me going to chruch alone.
I feel like lately I’ve been all negative nancy about my endo, so I decided to make a positive post about it. Sure, endometriosis DOES suck, but there is always something good in every situation. On Sunday I ran my second 1/2 marathon and it was the best experience ever. My first one was nothing short of awful. My pain was through the roof that day and all I wanted was to knock myself out with pain meds. This race however, was amazing. Everything went perfect and I’m still on my runners high. No walking and no pain for this girl!
Anywho, while running my race, I started to think about the positives in my situation and decided to make a lovely list.
1. First and foremost; had I not had surgery (almost a year ago today!), I would have never been depressed about my life. I would have never been googling ways to make my life better. I would have never stumbled across the registration and signed up for my first half marathon, Park to Park. And that means I would have never started running. Running has taught me so much about life and it’s something that my body can handle. Sure, I still have days where I flare up big time during or after a run and want to curl up into the fetal position, but overall it’s made me a much stronger person; physically and mentally.
2. Last month, I had 7 “good” days and 1 “great” day. I track my days and make notes about how I feel each and every day. Most days, I feel like crap. They start out good but they start going down hill within hours. I start to get bloated, I get dizzy, nauseous, I can’t concentrate, I get extremely tired and the list goes on and on and on. But somewhere out there in the month I have seven good days and one GREAT day waiting to be thrown at me. Since I can’t control how I feel and this is kind of the condition I’m stuck with, I’ve decided to make a little game out of it. Each day I wake up wondering, will this be a good or great day?! It’s kind of like getting a surprise every now and then. Normal people don’t get to play the surprise game.
3. I have the best family and friends ever. I won’t lie…my family gets the most of my “I feel like A**” or “I hate my body I just want to remove my insides!!”. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve complained. My mom and my sister are pretty much my rocks. They have put up with my complaints for years, and it means so much. I know at times, friends and family have probably been annoyed or wanted to punch me but they haven’t yet. I could have a family that doesn’t support me or makes fun of my condition, but they don’t and for that I am extremely grateful.
4. Having a condition that affects my day to day life has taught me to bite my tongue before judging someone. After my surgery, when I got the ok to start working out again, I remember thinking that people at the gym were going to criticize my workouts because all I could do was walk at an incline slowly. Even today, there are workouts I can’t do or struggle with people of pain. And it’s not just working, but day to day life. You don’t know if that person has a chronic illness, is recovering from surgery or has a condition. You just don’t.
5. I’m usually exhausted by the end of the week. Having endo has made me appreciate taking care of my body more. I used to go out Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. I thought I had to go out to fit in. But I wasn’t taking care of my body. While I do drink occasionally, endo and alcohol don’t mix so I usually try to stay away from it. I know quite a few people who think it’s lame that I don’t go out but my body physically can’t handle it. I’m usually in so much pain or discomfort that it’s not even fun! I’d much rather be at home, in my sweats & falling asleep to a movie. And while it’s not the funnest thing to be exhausted or feeling like crap on a Friday or Saturday night, it is pretty freakin’ awesome to wake up Saturday and Sunday morning feeling REFRESHED and ready to take on the world.
6. Last but not least, endometriosis has taught me to love myself. This is apart of who I am and I can’t change it. It will probably be affecting me for the rest of my life, but it won’t stop me from loving who I am. I have struggled quite a bit with this one. One of the reasons I started going to the doctor to figure out what was wrong was because I was gaining weight. By the time I was officially diagnosed with this, I had gained about 20 lbs. For me, it was discouraging. I was working out and eating healthy, but the pounds kept adding on. It was hard for me to work out because I felt sick or was passed out the second I got off work. Even today, it’s discouraging. It’s discouraging to be bloated 90% of the month. It’s discouraging that the medication I’m on for pain makes me break out in rashes and acne every now and then. It’s discouraging that no matter how well I eat, I still feel like crap most days. And it’s discouraging that doing something I love so so much (running and working out) can make me feel so so sick. But for whatever reason, I have this condition and it’s probably not going away anytime soon. Each day I wake up, I tell myself why I’m so awesome. I tell myself that even though I’m sick or feel crappy I won’t let this ruin my life. And I most importantly, I love me for me.
I met a guy the other week. We hung out, seemed to hit it off, and so we hung out again. And again. And again. Each time, I heard little voices in my head (no I’m not crazy…). They would tell me “he’s the one, he’s not the one, I like him, I don’t know if I like him.” It was exhausting. Each night I prayed that God would show me. Now if I really want to go ahead and admit this, I knew he wasn’t “the one” the first night I met him. But at the time I wasn’t ready to admit that. So I decided to torture myself a little bit.
For the past year, I have been praying to find my husband. I pray that the next guy I seriously date will become my husband. I pray that the next time I move, it will be into a house with my husband (because let’s be honest, moving SUCKS). I also pray that I’ll meet him in the next year, because I’m currently on the depo shot for my endometriosis…it helps minimize pain and endo growth. The problem with depo is that it’s not supposed to be used for 2 years because it can cause osteoporosis or infertility, and next year will mark 2 years on it. Anyways, I’ve made all these deals with God. It’s up to him though to untimely decide who comes into my life and when. But I like to think he’s 100% on board with my thoughts. I’ve always prayed faithfully and explained to God that I’m ready. I’m ready to be a wife and to have babies. I’m ready to move in with someone. Or am I?
So, in rolls this guy. He seems super great and amazing. I feel like I can be my dorky nerdy self around him. But then something happens. I start getting annoyed. Now, if you haven’t met me, I love love love my space. I’ve been single for over 2 years now, and it has been the best decision I’ve made. So having someone come into my life, well, it was not easy. I felt like I was giving up my freedom, my time. It didn’t matter if my time was me sitting on my but watching Netflix. It was MY time. Selfish? Maybe. But I think we all deserve to be a little selfish.
It was at this point that God was telling me that he wasn’t the one. I truly believe that when I meet my husband I will know. He will know. And it will be perfect. Not perfect for anyone else. But perfect for me. And my husband will be perfect too. I think I deserve to be picky. I’ve been in way too many crappy relationships. I’ve given up things that I want to do just to bend over backwards for a silly guy. In the past couple of years, I’ve learned how important I am. I’ve learned how beautiful inside and out I am and how ridiculously awesome I am! I used to get knocked down by shallow comments guys made. I used to get ignored for days on end by guys. I was used. And then, one day I discovered that I am so much more than that. I am a freakin’ sweet girl. I have weird quirks that make me, ME. And I refuse to give any of myself up for a guy. No girl ever should.
So have I met the one? No. I had a bit of a pity party for one today because it’s something I want so badly. I want a guy to hang out with. I want a guy who loves me (endometriosis included) and wants to marry me. I want a beautiful fall wedding with pumpkin everything. And I want babies. I want it all. But for now, I’m going to continue to pray and trust that God has a much better plan in store for me. And I cannot wait to figure out what this plan is.
I’ve always wanted to write a letter to my future husband, or write a journal weekly for him to read someday. But then I think, what guy is actually going to read a whole journal of notes to him? Well maybe the right guy would, I’m not sure.
To my future husband (first of all, I refuse to call you “hubby” it makes me gag when I hear people say that. My sisters do it, and that’s fine, because it makes them happy…but you sir will NOT hear that word come out of my mouth unless I’m making fun of it.)
I guess I’m writing to say that I hope you know what you’re in for when you meet me. I’m weird, probably annoying and extremely indecisive. I know guys just love it when girls can’t make up their minds. I try. I really do. But the thing is, I LOVE change and I can never decide what I want to do. Maybe it’s a commitment problem, who knows. I’ll say I want to stay in and watch movies, but deep down I want to get out and explore, be adventurous. But when you ask me what adventurous thing I want to do, I won’t know. That’s where you come in. I hope with all my heart I am able to find someone who puts the rest of my pieces together. I want a guy who can help me find something adventurous to do. No, I don’t want you to make ALL the decisions, because I too would like a say. I just want someone who evens me out. Makes sense out of me. Pushes me to keep trying when I want to give up. I need a healthy balance.
Also, I hope I am able to find a guy who gives me the space I need. I’ve always loved my space. I hate being with someone all the time, and maybe that will change when I meet the right guy. I have been single for 2 years now, and it has been the best experience ever. I’ll admit, I was lonely at first. No one called or texted me while I was lying in bed. No one texted me in the morning. My weekends didn’t consist of hanging out with a guy. It was just me, and that terrified me. But in that time, I have found so many things that I enjoy doing and have been able to find myself. Now, I’m not completely all there, I’m definitely a work in progress. I still don’t know what I’m doing with my life or where I’m going, but in time I’m sure I’ll figure it out.
I also hope you don’t mind being seen with a bum sometimes. I like to wear sweats. I like to be comfy. Sometimes it’s because my endometriosis takes over and I feel like crap. Sometimes it’s because I just like them! Sure I like to be girly, get dressed up and put makeup on, but not as much as I love bummin’ it out! So hopefully you don’t mind. Speaking of getting dressed up…I like to go out. But not to bars and I don’t really enjoy drinking all that much. I’ll have a couple of drinks but nothing too crazy. I hope you don’t think I’m lame for this. I used to go out. But alot of times I don’t. And maybe that’s because I get anxiety that I’m going to have an endo attack and have to leave or that crowds freak me out. I’m not against it completely, it’s just not something I like to do all the time. There are so many other ways to have fun & I hope we can find that together with friends. Friends; something I’m not good at. Like I previously said, I think I have commitment issues. I’m awful at keeping friends. I try. But I fail. I hope you can help push me to hang out with girlfriends because that’s something I need. Don’t let me lie around the house moping…push me out the door (even if I’m in sweats) to hang out with the girls. Hopefully by the time I meet you I’ll have girls to hang out with – ha. Like I said, I’m a work in progress.
I hope I’m able to help you be a better person as well. I hope I bring out the best in you and am able to make you happy. Someday we will meet, and maybe I will remember writing this blog. And hopefully be then, I’m an even better person that I am today. And maybe I will have figured out where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be doing.