Life: Pets, Pie, and Paths, Oh my!!

Running is the main reason for this blog.  I want to share my love of running with the world.  It's something I've fallen completely for which I never would have believed possible a few years ago.  But I realize that it may be a bit of a one trick pony.  If you love the sound of your feet hitting dirt, this might be the little glimpse of a strangers life for you but if not, what then?  So I decided for those few of you who don't know me and stumble upon this blog I'd give you snippets of my crazy life.  This way I have a tad more dimension which, honestly, everyone needs.  Do with it what you will.    Haha.  So without further ado...Adventures to follow.

Pets

I'm moving into week three of a new job.  I work at a pet hotel. I check cats/dogs in and out.  I set up their suites.  I enter their data.  I talk to the public.  I play with pups and kitties.  Great job.  Love it so far.  So, why the moniker of pets for today's lovely post?  Well, surprisingly it has nothing to do with my new work endeavors.  I can answer that question, though, in one definitive word.  Greta.

There she is.  Devil cat.  Mistress of Mayhem.  My thirteen year old heathen.  I've been getting up at 5 am to go to work some days.  This is an accomplishment.  I haven't done earlies like this since my Chi-town days.  I used to get up at 3:30 am when I worked at Starbucks but since the move to Ohio I haven't been up before 6 am.  So to usher in my new work weeks Greta decided to wake me up, in her own special way, at 4 am, last week. 

It was dark when she crept up the stairs.  She, no doubt, was hoping to steal the remainder of Whimper's left over food and while she was at it, use the facilities.  She surmounted the stairs.  Her climb was done.  But what should she find?  A closed bathroom door.  Heidi had decided that she didn't want the light to wake me so she closed the door.  She was off to volunteer at a soup kitchen and the door wouldn't be closed that long.  Who would really need it to be open?  Little did she know of Greta's plan.

Outrage coursed through her black and white body.  How dare the door be closed!!  I was going to hear about her frustration.  She waddled into my room and what did she find?  Whimper snuggled up against me in her favorite spot!  How dare he, that wet-food eating, love stealing bastard!  And what was worse, I let it happen.  Comatose me trying to hold onto my last precious hour of rest let the door be closed and the "other" cat steal her spot.  So Greta decided to take a stand.  She went up the three cat stairs onto the bed.  Climbed over my orange blanket and rainbow throw from Mazatlán.  Hopped on my hip and...

...pissed all over me!!  She really hosed me down.  I woke up to the wetness immediately and she new the jig was up.  Off she went, triumphant in her fury. 

Suffice to say, there is nothing so strong as a feline scorned.  Well that and the smell of pee I had to wash out of my bedding and night-shirt.  Yikes!!

Pie

Every Saturday between 8 - 12 am there is an amazing Farmer's Market in Worthington.  It has the best peaches, the biggest cabbage, the tastiest Swiss chard.  It's fantastic.  Truly.

But even better than all the fantastic goodness that is fresh produce and local farmer fare is the pie purveyor located in the cutest shop ever along High Street, Sassafras Bakery.


So, I've only had some cream pies from SB and I've been waiting for summer to come so I could try fruit pies, more specifically berry pies.  I love pie.  Little known fact about me.  In Chicago, we would travel an hour and a half on the green then brown line to go to First Slice in Ravenswood because it was amazing pie.  Every time we move to a new place we look for new pie places. 

In Chicago, there were three terrific pie places: First Slice, Hoosier Mama, and Bang Bang Pie Shop.  In Ohio, we've only found one: Sassafras Bakery.  So, each visit is special.  It's our go to place and as we are runners (as you may have noticed) and we eat really healthy most times (to be addressed in another post) we rarely get pie.  It has to be a treat.  It has to be worked towards.  It has to be worth it.

 

Enter the Triple Berry Pie of joy!  Can I get a Hell Yeah?!  This pie made last Saturday epic.  EPIC.  This pie was worth it and some.  I am still dreaming about it (when I'm not being peed on) and it's a dream I'm only to happy to dwell in.

Pie is like magic with a crusty cape of buttery-goodness.  This pie delivered that in exuberance.  We took a little home.  I ate most of it.  I'm not ashamed.  Not at all.  See how serious I am.  Pie people, it's that good.

Can I wait to go back?  Hell no!

I mean it's open four days a week and Farmer's Market is all summer.  I'm essentially setting myself up for a return visit.  And soon.

Guess that means more running, which if you haven't noticed, I'm all about.  So we will meet again pie.  Soon.  I promise.  Soon.

Maybe, there will be cherry on the menu next time or peach.  Whatever.  I'm not choosey.  You've got my number.



Paths

My sister is one good cookie.  She has been doing hospice volunteering for years, she has just started sponsoring a child in Africa for her birthday, and she is now working early mornings at a soup kitchen.  Her ultimate goal is to become a nurse practitioner and work with Doctors Without Borders.  She does all of this not out of some urge to be better than her fellow person but honestly to better her fellow person.  She cares about everyone she meets.  Everyone.  Even people who are down right mean to her.  She tries to look for the best in people when they couldn't give a crap about her.  She is one of my greatest heroes.  Always has been.  Always will be.

 

Isn't she cute?  My fellow pie lover.
As such, she has encouraged me through her actions to make a difference in the world.  Chose a path towards the good.  My chosen difference, or path as it were, is picking up trash in Sharon Woods.  I walk the trails.  I grab tasty morsels of human refuse.  I dispose of it.  Not too hard. 

Occasionally, I talk to people.  I tell them about the park.  Ask them what they've seen (in the way of wildlife, etc. but you never know with some people) and what they're doing for the day in the park.  Sometimes people stop to talk (again, this is not always a good thing, had a girl tell me about her dad's gun collection and stalkers once, seriously) and sometimes I get the polite "hi" before they brush by me.  Which I don't mind because, honestly, I'm a noisy, friendly, garbage girl! 


But on the days the luxurious life of a trash picker doesn't amaze I get to be what I truly am when I volunteer.  I get to be an appreciator of this beautiful park and all of the things in it.  I've seen mink, a whole family of like nine mink running along roadways.  I've seen deer.  Just yesterday, I saw a White Tail leaping into some bushes.  There are hawks.  Ground squirrels.  Chipmunks.  And...

...I've seen turkeys!  Huge glorious turkeys and what I saw on my volunteer day last week with these guys was hilarious.

I was walking this path.  Beautiful, isn't it? 

When suddenly, I hear turkeys, loud and frantic.  I check the grass to see what's up with my feathered friends and Red-Winged Blackbirds greet me.  Like ten of them.  Diving down and swooping in the grasses aggressively. 

The turkey calls become louder, the swooping faster, and I see what's up.  The turkeys, five males as it were, had been traipsing through the nesting area for the blackbirds.  They weren't too keen on these lumbering giants walking through their turf, so they let them know.  By dive-bombing them.  The turkeys didn't know what hit them.  They eventually stumbled to a safe path, out of the blackbirds line of attack, but not without their warbled indignation.  Truly funny.  And this is just day three of my volunteering journey. 
   

I'm sure there will be much more to inspire me as I grab the gunk left behind by the laziest of mankind.  I'm not happy about the trash but I'm ecstatic about the opportunity to spend an hour here and there with nature.  I'm happy to be part of the good path my sister emulates to me each day. 

Which brings me to my point.  How often do you get out the door?  How often do you walk around this world you live in and just engage in the essence of it?  We're lucky.  We have parks and open land and spaces where the rest of the world doesn't.  We get to experience them.  Be it through running or volunteering or living.  We're a lucky bunch of people.

Every single day.

I challenge you to do better, be better, live.

And that's life from me.  A couple weeks.  A couple cats.  A couple pie eaters.  And way more than a couple experiences.

Go have adventures!!  I know I will. 

Out the Door: Monday Running

So begins the week of twelve's.  Been a while but since my triumph of the 5k in March, I've been running, running, and you guessed it, running.  I completed another 5K in May, The Field of Heroes, where you got to run through a field of flags while veterans cheered you on.  There are pictures, which I'll put up eventually.  It was pretty epic, though, and has me craving another race.  But now I'm onto building distance.  So every three weeks we add a mile and this ominous week is the week of 12's.

 

 

And what better place to accomplish those miles than the Edward Thomas Trail in one of Columbus's illustrious Metro Parks.  I love this trail.  And when I say love, I do not speak lightly.  I've sweat, peed, tripped, and logged lots of miles on this trail.  It has turkeys, deer, chipmunk, owl, even the odd walker or two along its wooded pathways.  It's listened to me sing loudly and yell freely at Heidi for going too fast.  It knows me and better yet, it knows my feet.

 I honestly think this is my one mile of perfect country. 

Today my perfect country was a heat storm.  All three miles were rough.  Usually, just the first mile gives me grief, aches and pains that disappear the more my tennies hit dirt but today was a bitch.  I had to use my mantras to keep me going.  You're stronger than you think you are.  Run the mile you're in.  Not all pain is important.  That last one was a little hard to swallow today.  My thighs still ache.  But I did it.  I got out the door and ran.  Which, yeah okay, doesn't sound super impossible but I did work 8 hours before running because I'm just that good.  Okay, I work with cute pets so the 8 hours was pretty fun but still, kudos to me. 

So, yeah, that's my Monday.  Work, run, write, repeat.  Sounds like bliss to me.  Hope you're having just as auspicious a day. 

Pi Day! Hooray!!

We ran our first 5K today!  It's been a while since I've checked in but the running bug is in my blood, like adrenaline not MERSA, haha!  And can I tell you, it was so much fun!  It took me 42 minutes to complete 3.14 miles (a tiny bit faster than I thought) and Heidi tagged along (at a slower rate I might add, she is a speedy girl). 

So what's next?  Well, more running.  I'm up to 9 miles a week but it's not enough.  That's what the runner's bug is like.  You think, oh I'll just run a little, then you need more.  More miles.  More speed.  More running.

And don't get the idea that I'm one of those crazy fitness people.  Before I began running 8 months ago, I was a walker, ONLY.  But then I did it.  I made a change.  I decided that every time I saw someone going by in bright running pants, a smile or a look of determination painting their face, I wanted to be them.  So I started.  I began with a .5 miles and the rest is history.

So how does a 5K feel?  Amazing!  I completed my first race.  I ran the whole way.  I did it!  And I want more!  Just you wait world, I'm coming, dirty New Balances, a sweaty back, and the realization that anyone can be a runner!

One down, next 5K in May.  Stay tuned!

5K and counting...

I did it, I did a 5K plus yesterday and last Wednesday!  Little chubby me did it and it felt fantastic.  Runner's High is delicious!  It's like you haven't eaten in a month and the most tempting Lemon Pie with whip cream and a nice iced latte is laid before you.  I was on cloud nine for hours.  That is of course until I had calorie depletion.  Calorie what, you're asking?  Well, let me explain.


Let's say you run 3.5 miles with minimal water and then you go home and eat a medium sized breakfast afterwards.  You're body is burning calories, hell it just burned off what you ate.  So you're calorie free.  A smart runner would take it easy and continue to snack for the next few hours (or possibly have another large meal).  What did I do?  I went to work with a bottle of water.  I worked for four hours.  I felt the "high" become a very definite low.  I was shaky.  My vision blurry.  My head pounded.  My speech, at times, unintelligible.  Why?  Not enough calories.  My body kept on burning and I felt the full affects of my stupidity.  Note to self: Do not go to work after a long run and eat, for the love of all that is wholly, eat.  Live and let learn I guess.


Today I only ran 1.5 miles.  My legs hurt (did I mention I ran a 5K plus yesterday, ;-)) so try as I might I could not push them too two miles.  I'm okay with that.  I ran 11 miles last week.  That's a record for me.  One I hope to keep pushing at and breaking and redefining.  I'm falling in love with running.  It's hard and I do have periods of self-doubt and self-hatred but I also see how far I have come and how far I'm going.


So I decided,  I want to do something big.  I want to train for a couple years and then I want to do the London Marathon.  Did I just stutter, no, I said London as in England and scones and the Queen and Sherlock Holmes.  And here's why:


I have been wanting to move to Europe for some time and Heidi (awesome sister that she is) is in full support of this idea.  I'm a writer.  Not a profitable one as of yet but that's where my passion lies.  As such, I want to see the world and let it influence me and my writing.  I want to go someplace foreign and write.  Immersion in the purest sense of the word.  London would be new and exciting.  London is a city of English speakers.  London has an excellent Tube system for transport (very similar to Chicago's 'L').  London has loads of history.  London has lots of natural wonders that would attract me.  London is probably the best option for me.  I read a book called Londoners last year that gave me some interesting perspectives on the city, as well, and I am almost finished with the book Run Like A Girl by a Londoner who did the London Marathon, Alexandra Heminsley (which I recommend, its a fun read).


I'm excited to say the least.  So I have done my first two 3.5 mile runs.  They made me tired in the best and the worst kind of way but I feel like I'm onto something.  Each time my dirty New Balance shoes hit the ground I'm going somewhere, somewhere better. It gives me hope.  Who doesn't need that going into a new year?  No one.  So my parting words of wisdom people.


Run.  Run run run.  Run.  

Today in Sharon Woods...

I ran two miles!  Well I slow ran but dammit I did it.  I was grooving to my music and I was doing it.  I've been on antibiotics for an abscess in my knee (nasty, I know) and running is not the easiest thing to do.  But I took a month break and decided I needed to get off my fat ass and run.


So I did it!  Day four of my comeback tour. 


Now I just need to write 2000 words on my novel.  I can do this.  I won NANOWRIMO last month.  I got this.  (Yeah, Molly, just tell yourself that, haha).

Take Two...

I started this blog in Chicago last June.  And now here we are, almost six months later, new city and new me.  So what's changed?  Well, for one, I dropped the extremely hard regime of running everyday (I run a lot more than I did though).  I was convinced that I needed to do something amazing to start a blog.  Haha.  Really, I was over-thinking it.  What is a blog people?  A place where you can tell your story.  Even if that story means you like to stack plastic forks and eat only chicken for dinner every night (which I don't but its an example people, come on).  And my story, well its had its moments. 


I grew up in the Nevada desert with a hippy momma (God rest her beautiful soul) and a crazy survivalist daddy.  I saw my fair share of hookers, gamblers, transients, Quakers, missionaries, pagans, bible-thumpers, foreign speaking men trying to buy the plane in our front yard, potty belly pig lovers, doomsday fighters, truckers with poodles, stargazers, failed actors, successful actors, cantankerous old gun-toting women, goat herd tenders, dreamers, and criminal bikers.  I loved them.  I hated them.  I am of them. 


I'd like to say that this is the next chapter but really we're more likely in chapter four of the Molly saga.  I'm in a new place now.  A place where I feel more creative and dare I say it, happy.  Its been a while.  Happy is elusive.  I have family with me, my sister and my nephew, good company for the journey.  I want more from life.  I know I can have more.  I don't need permission.  I just need to go.  I just need to run.  That's what I'm finally doing.