Dammit Frank, Keep It Together

I went to Charleston, SC for the 4th of July. Well, rather Wednesday the 3rd, Thursday the 4th, Friday the 5th, and what should have been the night of the 6th. Homegirl here didn't make it to any activities on Saturday. I made the adult decision for my health, wallet, and probably overall dignity to scoot out of town and head back home early. I consider myself one of the lucky ones to have wonderful friends who offer places to stay, share cab rides home, and give support like this gentlemen to dear Frank. I say that because I went out with a bang on Friday. I was feeling good. And I thought I was looking good, whether I was or not - thanks to a few kind words from those around me. Sir bartender on the rooftop at Stars had quite the heavy hand and a handlebar mustache to make any grown man jealous. Throw in my favorite holiday and you've got yourself the perfect storm. Waking up to the beautiful face of my friend Charles in a house I was unfamiliar with was more than comforting, but rather confusing. Once I heard the voices of a few others I recognized, I knew - like Frank - I was good to go. But by go, I also mean it was time to go. Till next time Charleston. You were good to me, and I certainly was good to you. 

Once back in the motherland of Greenville, beating the majority of all holiday traffic, I did what any respectable 26 year old nursing a 3 day hangover would do - nothing. It was glorious. Movies on movies. Sunday, a little different. I got up and went golfing. Back to the driving range I went. This time alone. Call it luck, call it improvement, or please - natural talent, but damn if I didn't hit that ball straight and to the 157 yard marker. Trust me I texted a source immediately. Followed with "Is that good?", because of course I had no idea. I was just thrilled to get the ball in the air. Luckily no one was around so I had the chance to be a total tool and video myself for evidence.

Continuing on my path of athleticism, for this week at least, I went on the first of many runs with my marathoner-triathlete of a friend, Melissa. Like a gazelle that one. Never stops running. Impressive. I was fearful but 29 minutes and 3.2 miles later we returned home sweating like we stole something. Again, to hell with being modest. I haven't ran that far in a while. I'll give myself the ol' pat on the back. Especially because of this story. It's one of my favorites to tell. When I first moved to Greenville I dated this guy who was hilarious. We were always laughing and calling each other out on things. One day, when we were eating, because that is what we did best, we somehow brought up high school and I said I could just get up and run. What I was referring to were the glory days of lacrosse try outs and soccer practice - probably 25 lbs lighter and flat chested. Seriously. So he, knowing that, said 'how far do you think you can go?'. I said, 'I mean I could probably run like 3 miles'. He burst into laughter. He knew I was in terrible shape and I was. I had no idea what I was talking about or how far 3 miles was anymore. So he challenged me. He said 'Ok you think you can just get up and run 3 miles?' - 'Of course I can' - 'Ok great tomorrow we will go up to the Mauldin High School track'. My excuses started to flood out of me. Without fail the next day we went to the track. He took a book to read, had a stop watch for fun, and provided me music and headphones. If I were to succeed with my 12 laps, dinner anywhere in Greenville on him. If I failed, I paid and it was his choice. And with that I was off....4 laps around and I ran right past him and straight to the car. He yelled, 'Wait, where are you going!?!'. Both laughing hysterically, it was an epic fail, and I treated him to Subway. A nice healthy alternative. He owned a bulldog and he told me he knew I wasn't going to make it by my first lap. I asked why. He said I took off like a bat out of hell, then by the third lap I sounded like his dog coming down the home stretch. If only you could hear the impression. I was dying. Like the fat kid with asthma on the movie Little Giants. A few months later that flamed fizzled, but the motivational fire was lit. I killed my first 5K and continued to do more. It's amazing what humiliation can get you to do. Thanks Matt. 

Now on to train for something bigger. Some others are on board which to me means road trip! If I plan to run for the reason of running, I want something exciting at the end. Suggestions welcomed!