Aliens Abduct Snow Plow Drivers (or how I spent Christmas Eve)

On December 22nd, Jeff and I loaded up the car with Christmas gifts, suitcases, my laptop, beer, a 1lb bag of Twizzlers and a plate of freshly made peanut butter kiss cookies and set off on what was supposed to be a 26 hour road trip to Arizona. Why on earth would you do something so stupid you ask? You're not alone, don't worry. I surmise that the holidays induce some sort of salt o' the earth adventurous spirit that invoke flashbacks of weary travelers arriving at the threshold of a home warmed from the inside by firelight and smelling like cinnamon and pine. Much like the three wisemen. Or something like that. Anyway, the first night consisted of delirious (on my part) conversation while driving late into the night to Kansas City after leaving straight from work after a solid 2 week stretch on a busy service all the while propping my throbbing foot on the dashboard. Oh did I mention that I broke my toe by accidentally kicking my suitcase while packing? So, there was that. The next day we got on the road early, excited for our journey to Roswell, New Mexico and some potential alien sightings. Keep in mind that the weather in the midwest was awesome (you will never again hear me utter that statement) and we had sunny skies and clear roads all the way through that part of our journey. At this point, we were feeling pretty smug about our enlightened decision to drive to Arizona. It's so easy! And so fun! The fast food, the conversation, the sights (once out of Kansas) and the audio books! Our dream came to a halt somewhere between Amarillo and Portales, New Mexico. We heard on the forecast that there was "light snow" in New Mexico. Ok, we're from Wisconsin. Light snow means turn on your windshield wipers. What they didn't tell us was that New Mexico doesn't feel the need to clear the roads of said "light snow". Or salt. Or do much of anything except encourage every resident with a large Chevy truck to get out on the roads and speed. After spending an hour traveling 25 miles, with Jeff white knuckling the steering wheel and me gripping the door handle while trying to identify the edge of the road so that we don't in fact, drive off of it, we stopped at the first gas station we saw. Our plan was to stop short of our goal of getting to Roswell and just spend the night wherever we could find a bed. A bed, however, was not to be had in the town of Elida. "No motels here!" we were cheerily told by two older ladies manning the register. "You can go back the way you came 25 miles or keep going another 65 miles!". Ok, awesome. Thanks New Mexico, for your continuing inhospitality. We ended up driving the same route back the way we came and paid way too much for a room at the Holiday Inn.

The next morning we were full of new hope, bolstered by beer the night before and free waffles for breakfast. We headed out, sure that they would've cleared the roads by then. We reached the same damn small town and realized that we were going to be sorely disappointed. The roads were now even more icy and the "light snow" had begun to fall again. We reached Roswell a couple hours later and stopped at yet another gas station hoping for good news. "Do the roads get better going west towards Arizona?" I asked. I was greeted by another cheery response. "Nope. All roads going west are closed. All roads going south are closed too." I asked "How am I supposed to get to Arizona?" my voice trembling as I'm exhausted and frustrated and on the verge of tears. I was told to try in a couple days. Refusing to miss spending the holiday with my family, I was determined to get to Tucson by Christmas morning. We ended up taking the only road open heading north to Albuquerque. Miraculously, 10 miles north of Roswell the skies opened up and the sun was shining, the roads were cleared and it felt like we were in another world. Or on another planet. Twelve hours later, we pulled into my sister's driveway. There was no fire in the fireplace and her house smells more like organic all natural air freshener than cinnamon and pine, but we were home for Christmas. I was able to wake up with my niece on Christmas and discover what Santa had brought for her. Seeing her play with her new princess house made the entire snow bound-car sick-foot throbbing-post apocalyptic New Mexico landscape-fast food free for all road trip worthwhile. And Roswell, I'm not fooled by your aliens cleverly disguised as monster truck drivers. Where were they going??

I'm Watching You December...

December is a mere 2 weeks away. How can that be?! It seems like just a few weeks ago I was telling you about all my summer discoveries. I'd like to bury my head under my pillows and wake up when it's spring again. Of course, here in the windy city, that might not happen until June. How did you sneak up on me December? Did you push November into the slot normally reserved for October? Because I have to say, I don't remember October having much of a presence this year. Hmmm, I am giving you the stink-eye December. Don't think I don't remember how you tried to imitate February last year with all your snow and freezing rain. Even shoving your holiday cheer in my face won't make me forget wrapping my living room in saran wrap just so I could sit on my couch and STILL freeze. Damn you.

When I introduced myself (and this blog) to you I mentioned that I was from Arizona. The first question I get, after a look of amazement, is "Why did you move here??". I have answered this question so many times over the last few years that I feel I have it down to easily digested little nuggets. Here are the highlights (expounding to be done at a later date):

• I moved here because someone I respected and trusted said it was a good place for me to be.
• I moved here to explore a passion.
• I moved here because I thought I would fit in and be successful anywhere, no matter how far from my family and friends and familiarity I traveled.
• I moved here to discover that things don't work out just because you want them to. Really badly.
• I moved here to remind myself that I make mistakes, I am far from perfect and that is ok.
• I moved here to experience the dissolution of a dream and an identity and to create new ones, however different and unfamiliar they may appear to me still.
• I moved here to rely on the company of myself and my dog when things got lonely, and learn to be ok with that.
• I moved here to discover what I really want to be when I grow up.
• I moved here to eventually take a job that would push the limits of my confidence and hold a mirror to the ethical principles in which I truly believe, as unpopular as they may be.
• I moved here to meet my husband and his dog.
• I moved here to grow and struggle and be lonely and make friends and be a pediatrician.

Now you know.

Old Habits Die Hard

Have I mentioned yet that I love Fall? I love the weather, the leaves, the back-to-school sales, the food. Not to mention that my 1st wedding anniversary is coming up this fall. One thing I haven't gotten used to since making my move from Arizona to Illinois is the change in my outdoor activities. See, in Arizona people take the summers off from outdoor sports due in part to the very real risk of death from heat exhaustion. Third degree burns from a seat belt is not an unheard of occurrence. You've heard that people in AZ can bake cookies on the hood of their car in summer right? Anyway, I would cut back on my running and resign myself to exercising in the gym. My friend Barry always laughed at me when I heralded the "start of the running season" come mid-September. Right about now in fact, when it is cool enough to run outdoors at 6am and not die. I practically bounded down our running path because I missed it so much over the summer.

The opposite phenomenon occurs here in Chicago. People come out in the summer in droves. Most major races are in the fall assuming a summer well spent outdoors training. See, I just can't get my head around that. I do my best running Oct-April. Old habits die hard. So what did I do this summer during my running hiatus? Bikram yoga. If you are unfamiliar with this particular form of torture, errr, exercise, let me enlighten you (so to speak). Picture a large room heated to 105 degrees and 40% humidity, lots of scantily clad people dripping sweat while folding their bodies into vertebrae-curling, tendon stretching, muscle-quivering positions and holding them. For an hour and a half. Hmmm, well I do enjoy a challenge. My goal was to do this class everyday for a month. That lasted about 2 weeks. What they don't tell you is that along with the enlightenment, serenity and peace you feel comes a boatload of laundry. A towel to lay on your mat, a towel to wipe your face, a towel to dry off after class (because the other ones are soaked), a change of clothes (because who wants to ride the bus soaking wet? I don't and neither does the person sitting next to me), then another change of clothes because the clothes you rode home in have become soaked because you can't stop SWEATING. See what I mean? I actually liked Bikram yoga and plan on trying it again someday when I don't have to ride the bus home (I have my limits). But what I really got out of taking that class, what I earned was a new appreciation for running. I missed it so much, just like the old days back in Arizona. Now when I head out to the park for a run in the chill evening air I feel that old giddiness. Welcome to the start of my running season. Bring it on.