# 8 from Amanda Blythe Photo on Vimeo.

7 Years

6 Years

I'm not sure what combination of stubbornness and forgetfulness kept me coming back to running in fits and starts over the next decade, but I found myself signing on for longer and longer races until somehow I was eyeing a half marathon thinking yeah...I could do that.

I bribed myself by signing up in a fun city (NOLA!) at a time of year I knew I'd be itching to get out of Chicago. This time around something just clicked. I loved training for this race- the discipline, the routine, the way it kept me from sliding down the slope of seasonal depression.

Things started to get a little dicey the week leading up to the race. A persistent sinus infection, days of insomnia and a long day of travel lead to a bit of a meltdown when I arrived at the race expo to pick up my packet. For the first time I considered that I might not be able to do it, and I found myself in tears in the middle of a sea of runners. It was not my finest moment.

Still, I got up the next morning before the sun, put on my big girl pants and laced my shoes.  The walk from our hotel to the start line was straight up Bourbon, and it was more than a little surreal to pick our way through last night's drinkers and the puddles of discarded beer (oh god I hope it was beer. It totally wasn't beer.)

I am not fast, so the folks in my corral weren't the most, shall we say...dedicated athletes. But they were fun.

I probably could have used a jello shot myself because I felt like this:

Once we got going I felt great, though.  The first five miles were bliss- I had good legs and our path through the garden district was amazing. In retrospect I was probably going a little too fast.  I also did not stop at any water stations for the first three miles which was a mistake.  I did almost all of my long training runs inside and I rarely stopped to drink. I didn't really account for the punishing sun and how it would impact my later miles.

In mile six things started to hurt.  This was annoying but ok, I've become adept at accepting a reasonable amount of pain on a long run.  Mile 7 the wheels started to come off. I made the mistake of timing my miles...I really wish I hadn't.  Watching my pace slow really got into my head and I had trouble shaking it off. Around this time I also started to become fairly dehydrated and I never really got on top of that again. 

Miles 10 - 13 were really really really hard. 

I don't quit (firstborn), and I would have walked to that finish line if I had to but I really wanted to finish strong.  I don't remember much from those miles except the certainty that my legs must have been weighted with sandbags because I simply could not make them go any faster than they were going, and it felt like I was barely moving.

I also vividly remember the people cheering us on and I sincerely think I might not have finished were it not for them.  Somehow, some way I shuffled my way to the finish line in 2:35:35.  I'm not proud of this time, but it's mine...and dammit so is this stupid medal.

Probably one of the fondest memories I will ever have is the slow walk from city park towards our hotel, 40oz beer in hand, sun on my face and the race firmly behind me. It was perfect, down to the cab that rolled up just when I'd had my fill of walking. 

If you've cheered me on in this race - in person, online- or if you've ever held a sign on behalf of a complete stranger I thank you truly and sincerely. I honestly never could have done this without your love and encouragement.

I promise to stop flooding my facebook feed with running updates now. At least for a while.

As for the rest of my time in New Orleans..it was awesome. You should go there, 1/2 marathon optional.

P.S. that dude in black ran the full so...yeah. I'm not as cool as I think I am.

p.p.s. thanks to kevin for the race day photos.

The idea was shamelessly stolen from this lovely lady, and if any of you ever decide to do a memory project for someone I owe you a memory. Even if I have to make one up.

The last two months with Kevin largely absent have highlighted in stark detail all the ways in which my life is richer with him in it. 

Kevin, when you are here I laugh 76% more and I change 100% fewer light bulbs.  Thank you for being my partner in crime and home repair for these six trips around the sun. Let's do it again.

  Last year

So it was with some trepidation that I agreed to see the Poison/Motley Crue tour not once but twice this summer.  It was no Pearl Jam, but I will not even pretend I didn't have a blast both times. 

(All pics curtousey of my iPhone)

 The best part by far was seeing Kevin relive his misspent youth.

This was also my first concert shoot since aquiring the 5d and I have to admit I do not hate the high iso performance on this bad boy at all, no sir.

I know how much work went into planning this event and I think it was totally worth it, everyone had a blast. Even the mayor- despite his time in the dunk tank.

check out the full gallery here. And if you are ever in the neighborhood stop by Ledo's, they'd love to see you.

Always he has been the voice in my head that insists I try new things; even if I'm scared, even if I'm no good at them.  I'm a worrier, I fret endlessly over the most mundane of life situations. If left to my own devices I could probably live happily inside my own head reading books and watching streaming Netflix.  My dad has always been there- quietly, firmly- urging me to live a big life.

Recently he sent me some photographic evidence that I am capable of great (and terrifying) adventure.

Watching my baby brother go first. Desperately trying to remember what the instructors said to do if the car catches fire (seriously.)

They squeeze you into those cars like veal. Now desperately trying to remember how to get the car into first gear.

Wheeeeeeee! I lapped that dude in the yellow car.

Thanks Dad, for making this happen and for reminding me, like you always do, that I can do anything.