Since I’ve been making lists like crazy this week, I thought I would update you with a Life List. Not to be confused with a Love List. Though I should do one of those too.

Life Item #5: Friend Feats.

One of my best friends from middle school is moving to live in Oregon with one of our other best friends. I couldn’t be happier or more proud of her for taking the leap. One of my best friends from college just bought and house and another is looking at condos this week. We are grownups! And yes, it’s still weird.

Life Item #4: Vacation.

We’re going on an 7 day vacation to Santa Barbara and Los Angelos in 3 weeks! The Dude’s mom and stepdad rent a house in Santa Barbara every February to visit the Dude’s stepbrother and his kids. I was undecided for a while (mainly because I am 1. broke and 2. missing a week of class) and then I thought “Screw it. I’m a grown ass woman. I can miss class and let my boyfriend buy me a plane ticket for my birthday.” So I agreed and then had horrific guilt/anxiety for a week (see also: every decision I make that involves money and/or school) Now I’m just psyched and grateful for a week of  hanging out with the Dude without books or studying, visiting family and friends (Hi Ash, Hi Loosh!) and eating amaaaazingggg food. Avocado trees, here I come.

Life Item #3: Spring Break 2012: Girl’s Gone Radiation.

The decision to go on said vacation was also solidified when I found out that I needed to have my follow up cancer radioactive scan sometime in March. Luckily, I was able to schedule it during my spring break. I know there is some really good/horrible joke about this being the best tan I will ever get on spring break, but I’m hungry, so it’s just not coming to me right now. Evan, I know you’ll find it. This means I’ll be starting the low-iodine diet in late February and will eat approximately 700 bakery items while in Santa Barbara.

Life Item #2: Spring Semester Begins.

As I mentioned, I start my spring semester today. I’ve already purchased 12 books for 3 classes. My credit card loves me. My goals for this term are to:

• Remain sane.
• Return to running and a regular yoga practice (2-3 times per week).
• Have one date night per week with the Dude (sans technology (except for Netflix or movies)).
• Take 15 minutes to relax every day (walk the dog, take a bath, breathe, call one of my friends) and shut my brain off by 10:30pm every night.
• Manage my deadlines and assignments well from the start, instead of stressing out the week or night before they are due.
• Go easier on myself and my expectations. Remind myself “You do enough.”
• See #1.

Life Item #1: I went back to the gym.

Last week, I went on my first run in 10 months. It was a run/walk lasting approximately 30 minutes – and it was awesome. I raised 830 dollars (and counting) for the American Cancer Society for the Run to Remember 5 mile run in May. The fact that all of my friends, family and even extended members of my network donated is a major motivation boost. The run felt great, and I’m looking forward to getting back to a regular routine soon. Anyone need a running/motivation buddy?!

What’s going on with you this week/month? I miss ya!

I would not have been able to get through those milestones without recognizing a very important one today, one that has made the past 2 years so much better than I could have imagined. I’ve never mentioned the origin of the milestone on the blog, and maybe that’s because writing it down makes it seem like a story that happened instead of one that continues.

2 years ago today, The Dude and I had our second ”date.” We had known each other for a year and a half before that, in that way you know someone you see often through friends of friends. We had spent the better part of almost every major holiday event at the same party, in the same basement, with the same 10-15 people for nearly two years. But we never had more than a 5 minute conversation together in that time.

Let me start at the beginning.

The Dude and I met through fate. Through the vast connection of the Universe. Through Craigslist.

Sort of.

In early 2008, I was a very newly single girl looking for a new roommate. I needed a new start in a new place after ending a very serious, ”we lived together but it’s just not right” relationship. I turned to what had always provided me with roommates in the past: Craigslist. (It sounds scary, but I’ve actually had great luck with it). I read through a few posts and found one that sounded right up my alley (she loved baking, decorating, bike riding, sounded fun and responsible and had a job!). I emailed her and we met later that week. We decided to start looking at apartments in another city in Rhode Island. The first apartment we looked at, we loved. We took it. We moved in and life was going really well.

That Halloween, she invited me to a friend’s friend’s party. Her best friend’s boyfriend’s friends. Did you get that? My roommate knew these guys from their old apartment building, the one she moved out of when we moved in together. We had been to their house over the summer for barbeque and hanging out. The friends were all funny, welcoming, smart and made great food. They had all known each other since they were 15, but they were still open to new people (not always the case, I’ve found). I didn’t have any time to get a stellar costume together, so I went as a Providence hipster. I remember this, because it was The Dude who made a witty comment about my costume during a 5 minute conversation. I realized how funny he was. It stayed with me, and when we got home, I said to my roommate “If I were going to date any of those guys, it would be Dude.” Her response was “…really?!?” (I took that to mean “There is something very wrong with him, like he eats only baby food or is actually a serial killer.” Later she told me it was just because she didn’t see him that way.)

I thought he was cute and funny. I always made sure to have a cute outfit on and smell nice when I went to parties or get togethers at their house. I took notice of him when I walked in the room. But for some reason, I didn’t pursue it. And neither did he.

I was having fun being by myself. Traveling, visiting friends, starting to run, practicing yoga more seriously, teaching myself to cook, meeting new people, dating, devoting my time to work and my career and doing whatever it is that I wanted to do. In that time, I realized that I was enough. I was pretty great company. And if I was to be alone for the rest of my life, I would never be lonely.  I thought about how much fun I had and how proud of myself I was. I thought about how I was tired of dating guys that didn’t call back or didn’t make an effort or didn’t “want to be in a relationship.” I wanted a guy that would pursue me and be passionate about me and want a relationship. I didn’t want to play games anymore. It sounds hokey or cliche, but I remember coming back from an amazing vacation in Oregon with one of my best friends and thinking those exact thoughts. I remember lying in my bed, looking out the window and thinking, “I think the next guy is going to be “it.” And I’m ready for that now.” But what’s also funny, is that I had big plans. I was finally submitting my grad school applications. Out of state. I was moving. I had given “notice” to my roommate and my job knew I wanted to leave. I just needed notification from the schools themselves. In Michigan and Maryland. I had plans.

That Halloween, I went to the same friend’s friend’s party. Towards the end of the night, we ended up in the kitchen. At one point, we found ourselves alone, creating words with those magnetic letters on our friend’s fridge. We turned to each other and almost simultaneously said “So what is it that you do?….” He thought I had gone to art school (I didn’t). I thought he worked in business (he doesn’t). We found ourselves interested.

We found ourselves emailing each other. It started when he invited me to a fundraiser for the non-profit he and his friends ran (yeah, I know. Swoon). We emailed every single day, multiple times a day, for the next two months. I found myself obsessively checking my mail. Refreshing my page, checking from friend’s computers, leaving Gmail open at work. I found myself smiling, several times a day, for the next two months. But I still wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if he liked me. I thought “Maybe he’s not interested, or maybe he’s dating someone else, or maybe we’re just friends?” It was my sister who reminded me, at Thanksgiving, that unless a guy was Tolstoy, he probably likes you if he’s emailing you 5 times a day.

I still wasn’t sure. So we emailed and saw each other at dinner’s with friends (both at my apartment and his apartment, where I obviously snooped in his medicine cabinet) and holiday parties and social events. It wasn’t until I somewhat invited myself over to his house for our first “date,” where he taught me to play chess and we listened to The Band’s The Last Waltz on DVD and ate sushi while sitting on the floor and watched Bull Durham and ate homemade banana bread with cream cheese frosting. But he didn’t make a move. So I still wasn’t sure.

I wasn’t completely convinced until our second “date,” two years ago today. Where we ate shrimp and linguine and delicious bread and talked for 4 hours and listened to the UConn Men’s basketball game on my computer, that I was the one to make the move. I just had to know. So I did. And then found out that he liked me for about 4 months but didn’t want to mess with our growing friendship, and was specifically told by several people that “they really liked me, so he shouldn’t screw this up with me.” So he proceeded somewhat cautiously until I showed my cards. Then all bets were off. I assumed he was going to leave, but he asked if he could stay. That’s when I knew this was going to be different – that he was going to be different.

Yet, I still had those plans. And I was accepted into not one, but both of the programs that I applied to. I even went to the welcome weekend for Maryland’s program. And I loved it. I loved the people and the campus and the program. But I found myself nitpicking little things. And I couldn’t see myself living anywhere but Providence. I celebrated my 27th birthday party with 40 of my most fabulous and closest friends. I wondered why I wanted to leave them, leave my adopted home just for a change. And did I want this program specifically or just because I was bored? I found myself giving excuses not to go. I found that I wanted to figure out what this relationship was about. I knew that if I didn’t, I would regret it.

I denied my acceptances. Both of them. I stayed in Rhode Island. I’m not going to lie and say it was a really easy decision, because I had the idea that I was going to move for a long time. I changed my path “for a guy.” The logical part of my being was furious. But my heart knew that staying and saying yes to this relationship was worth it. It was life-changing for me. He has been life-changing.

While much of it has been wonderful, the past two years have not been easy for me, or for us. Not by a long shot. There has been a huge, huge amount of change in my life. Turning down those programs. Leaving my job to go to grad school, to pursue the real passion I’ve had since I can remember. Leaving that apartment that allowed me to figure out who I was to make a home together. Gaining two more families in his. Adopting a dog. Seeing friends grow and get engaged and married and have children. Traveling. Learning. Oh yes, and cancer. All of these changes have brought growth – most happy and wonderful, some painful and frightening.

Sometimes, I forget. When his underwear is four inches from the hamper instead of IN the hamper, I forget. When he said he would take the trash out but it’s on the landing, I forget. When I’m stressed or anxious or thinking about life too much or tired, I forget. I forget how amazing it is that we found each other at all. How I could have stayed in Delaware and not moved to Rhode Island. How I could have stayed with that old boyfriend. How he could have been with someone when I was interested in him. How he could have been uninterested in dating someone at all. How I might not have found my roommate, and how she might never have lived in the same building as The Dude and how the two of them could have passed in the hall without saying hello. How I could have left for Maryland or Michigan and wondered what could have happened with us. How all of those tiny little decisions and changes and experiences in both of our lives led us to find each other.

And then I think about how much he makes me laugh, or how smart he is or how much he takes care of me – and I remember. I remember why I stayed. I remember how grateful I am for him. I remember that we had only been dating for 9 months when I found out I had cancer. I think about how many people would have bailed – “This has been fun. Thanks, but no thanks!” But he didn’t. I think about how he told me he loved me after six weeks and I said it back without hesitation. I think about all of the good things that he’s brought into my life and about how easy it is with him. Even the hard stuff is easier because of who he is and how we work together. And I can only hope and strive and work to make sure that I support and love and do the same for him.

Two years ago, while we were snuggling on the couch, he said something that I still recall exactly. It hasn’t been easy for me to find someone who can wrap me up and make me feel both small and safe at the same time. I’m a big girl, remember?

We were lying there, together, and he said “Wow. This is crazy. We’re the perfect size. We fit together perfectly.”

We do. We fit together perfectly.

I’ve been having really bad anxiety lately. Pretty much consistently, every day, for the past month. It started right before finals and I just haven’t been able to kick it. Once that fear spiral starts, it’s hard to get it to shut off (for me at least). The racing thoughts and worries start in my head and work their way through my body, settling in my stomach. All it takes is one word, one blog post, one article or one suggestion from someone to send me into a crazy thought spiral. (Even typing this blog post is starting to freak me out a little bit.)Pretty soon, my mind is racing so badly that my stomach hurts, my heart is pounding and I’ve convinced myself that school won’t work out, I’ll never find a job, my relationship won’t work out, I won’t be able to have kids and I’m better off alone.

Not the thoughts I’d like to have – especially when I know (really know) that my life is pretty freaking great.

I think that part of it was the stress of the term. I was really stressed/crazy/busy and my adrenals were probably on overdrive. They just never shut themselves off. I also think part of it is my thyroid medication. I’m not sure if I’m too hyperthyroid (because of the cancer, my doctor said they will keep me slightly over the edge of normal to hyper to suppress any cell growth) because I’m taking a pretty high dosage. Ever since I started to take this dose, I’ve noticed everything seems to be much quicker in my body. My blood pressure, pulse, heart rate, anxiety and thoughts. I can’t drink coffee anymore because it makes me far too jittery and hyper. Breathing doesn’t really help all that much. But, it does help to think that the anxiety is caused by something physical.

I went in to my yoga class with a stomach and brain full of anxious thoughts. I unrolled my mat and sat down. I noticed how tight my hips were, how immobile my lower back is. I thought about how much I miss moving, stretching and breathing. The teacher started class by having us pay attention to our breath, filling our stomachs. I listened to the music and breathed deeply.

And I started to tear up. Because I remembered why I love yoga.

Sitting on that mat, it was a remind. “Oh yeah. This is why you do this. This is why you’re here. Why you make it to classes. Why you exercise. This feeling right here.” I let it go and I cried a little bit. Right there in the basement of the YMCA. I started to cry because I realized that the feelings are all just fear. It’s JUST fear. They are just thoughts. (And it’s probably my hormones too.) I can fix it. I can deal with this, just like I deal with everything else. I remember why yoga is so instrumental to my mental, emotional and physical health. I remember why exercise is so crucial to my life.

It helps me to come back to me. It helps me to clear out all the other crap that doesn’t serve me. It reminds me of who I am and what I can do. It reminds me that I can deal with anything. It helps me to remember I am on the right path and that it will all work out.

I am going to work to remind myself this every day. I truly feel that exercise is the way out of the funk. Breathing is the way out of feeling like everything is going to fall apart. Yoga is my source.

It’s a reminder that I’m making my only goal and resolution for the time being. I’m looking at 2012 with less of the overachiever’s to-do list. I know she’s always in there, waiting to find something else to work on. Last night I was reminded that I really need to make myself a priority and my concentrate on my health and well-being. So, instead of making “12 things for 2012″ or a Top Ten list or setting small goals or SMART goals or check-in’s or anything else that might send me into overdrive/planning/craziness, I’m formulating a question for myself. That’s it. One question.

Every day, I’m going to ask: “What did I do to fill up my reserves today? What did I do for me?” and then write it down.

That’s my overall goal. That’s the only thing on my to-do list.

And I think it’s a damn good reminder that I’m worth a resolution.

If you’re visiting from Healthy Tipping Point, welcome! I heart January Joiners  

Do you have 2012 healthy resolutions?! What are they?

I finished.

I’m done with my first term of grad school. I can’t believe it.

It wasn’t always fun, and it certainly wasn’t always pretty. But I made it.

I was thinking of this yesterday, because it’s funny how you react to situations when you have a chance to stop and examine them. Reflect on them now that they’re “over.”

And I find myself picking at the things that I didn’t do, instead of all the things that I did do – which is a habit I’d really like to break.

“You stopped working out.

You didn’t make yourself meals often enough and relied too much on processed food.

You spent too much money

You don’t feel as good.”

Expecting too much from myself, expecting perfection or driving myself so hard – it’s not always pretty and it’s certainly not fun.

Around Thanksgiving, I had a major meltdown (it didn’t help that hormones were in effect too). I cried for 2 days. I tried to break up with my boyfriend (who, very luckily for me, knew that this was my “the ship is going down and I’m throwing all of my luggage off” cry for help.). I snapped at people. I ignored my dog. I had a massive anxiety ball in my stomach at all times. I ate M&M’s. I just couldn’t think about school or work or life without going into full freak out mode.

Luckily, I have very calm and collected family, friends and boyfriend. I talked to all of them and they offered good advice. I sat at a diner with my best friends from high school and told them about my anxieties. They asked me what my schedule was like.

I said, “Well, I’m teaching a class and am a TA for a second one so I go to the classes and do all the grading and assignment prep, etc. I had a 30 hour practicum in a middle school. I have 3 classes, all of which are night classes. I work as a grad assistant 3 days a week and am working on research for faculty, running around campus and doing all sorts of things. I have a second job doing consulting and trainings for my old boss. I commute 2 hours a day….and that’s doesn’t include the stuff at home or cooking or life stuff. Like seeing my boyfriend and walking my dog…”

I heard that and watched their faces, their mouths open into “Oh…my god. HELLO?!?” I actually heard all of the things that I’m doing, maybe for the first time. Before that, it was just normal. I just did it, because that was my schedule and life now. That’s what I signed up for. But it IS a lot. And I can give myself credit for that. I can stop myself, when I started to say “Yeah, but there are a lot of people who have more on their plate.  Yeah, but there are people who work full-time and go to school full-time. Yeah, but….”

No, yeah but’s. I worked hard. I can give myself credit for that. I worked REALLY, freaking hard. I expected a lot of myself. Maybe too much.

There are things that I plan to do differently for spring term. Namely, returning to yoga and running. Returning to exercise. Taking the bus more often so I don’t have to be the one driving all the time. Getting back into cooking. Planning out my week a little better, so that I have more relaxation (whatever form that takes). Take much better care of myself, mentally and emotionally – but also physically.

I’m reminding myself that I wouldn’t know what to do differently if I hadn’t had this term as a learning experience. You need to go through something first to figure out how to make it work better. I knew the transition from working full time to graduate school would be hard. I knew it would change my life in a lot of ways, but I wasn’t sure how. Now I know.

And I’m taking today to be proud of myself. It’s a pretty big feat.

What are you proud of lately?!

I’m talking about FINALS.

I’m in full final mode right now. Even reading the word “final” is stressing me out. Even though I promised I wouldn’t procrastinate/wait until the last minute/not do things like that now that I’m 28….it happened. 

So, I have two finals/presentations this week and one next week. So, in case you don’t hear from me (including family and dear personal friends. And my boyfriend. And dog), please be assured I am alive.*

*And by alive, I mean buried under a stack of educational journals while eating nothing by peppermint bark and lattes, wearing unwashed jeans for the 7th day in a row because I don’t have time to do laundry, and squinting into the small, lovely light that is December 16th (The Day of Days; End of the Semester Holiness)…

then yes, I am alive. 

If you are a believer, pray for me. 

I hope you are all well!! xooxo. 

As I mentioned through my One Year Ago post, I’m going to start talking about my experiences last year during the start of my cancer story. Hopefully these will be helpful to someone dealing with cancer or any other disease, diagnosis – or even better, someone trying to prevent these things!

Throughout the last year, I’ve had to wait for a multitude of tests. Blood work, biopsies, CAT scans, oncology reports, EKGs, PET/Radioactive Iodine scans…you name it, I’ve waited for it.

I can remember having to wait for the phone call from my endocrinologist, after having my biopsy. He said he would call within a week with the results. A year later, I can recall many days and events that took place while I waited for those results. There are things that really helped me, and things that didnt serve me at all. I hope they might help you!

1. Try Not to Worry (Too Much). 

I know. I can hear you now: “Are you kidding me?? Don’t worry? It’s only my LIFE I’m waiting to hear about.” I get it – and if one more person told me not to worry during the wait for test results, I would have flicked them in the eye. But it IS somewhat true. The more you think about it, the more you stress, the more you’re convinced you’re going to die or have cancer or create the worst case scenario. To add insult to injury (ha), you may be experiencing pain or discomfort or fatigue or other symptoms because of the medical issue anyway, which will only cause you to feel worse.

1a. Write It Down.

If the worrying is really getting to you and you feel like you can’t get past it, write it down. You know how magazines and counselors and experts tell you to write things down so you don’t forget? I think writing things down is just as helpful so that you CAN forget. Writing is very cathartic and can help you clear your mind. Often I would just free write in my journal or here on the blog and almost immediately feel better seeing it on paper.

2. Exercise

Yoga, running, walking, weight lifting, dancing around my room with my IPod on…these all help me immensely when I’m waiting for test results. I know that stress relief goes hand in hand with how much exercise I’m getting, so I try to make sure I get in some sort of movement daily. The few minutes or hours that I plan to exercise give my mind a break and I usually leave the gym or my yoga mat feeling much calmer.

3. Cry.

I think crying is a really underrated form of stress relief, mainly because crying isn’t very socially acceptable and it can be embrassing. I used to never cry – but a few years ago, something really changed (*cough* hormones) and I became much more emotional. Sometimes you just gotta let it out. You’re stressed and scared and you’re not really sure what to do. So you get teary in the middle of the grocery store, cry in the bathroom at work, or sob into your pillow or on the phone to your Mom. You think, “Ok, wow, I needed that.” And then you move on.

4. Talk to Yourself. And Then Shut Up. 

Try to do this one in private, your car, office or a place where people won’t be concerned about your mental health. For me, whenever I was/am really stressed, my mental thoughts tend to go something like this:

“OMGGGGGGG the phone rang. The phone rang! It’s the doctor. Ugh. Well, I’m going to die. OMG. I’m going to die. I’m only 28. I have no babies! Crap! I have to make babies, quickly. I wonder if The Dude will be upset that I never made a will. I’m not even married and I’m going to die! Ugh. It’s not like anyone cares who gets my clothes. Did I get my jacket out of the car? Crap. Oh….it’s not the doctor. I should really program in his number.” 

Total insanity. In order to get those thoughts out and in a not so crazy fashion, I often find myself going over the worst and best case scenarios out loud. This helps to calm me down. This is also a major tenant of mediation. The brain rationalizes, analyzes, and chatters. You really just need it to shut up. So, talking to myself and then not talking at all through meditation really help.

5. When They DO Call, Write it Down.

You will be pretty stressed out (and hopefully these tips will help) until you get the call. When the doctor does call, whatever the outcome of your tests/results/etc. may be, write it down. If you’re upset and stressed upon hearing the results, chances are you won’t remember any of what the doctor said. Write it down. If you’re writing, your brain is forced to think about something other than the news you were just given. You have to be slightly detached from the emotion in order to write. Did I do this when I got the results back? No. I sort of went blank and then when I got off the phone, I couldn’t remember anything he told me. Ask him/her to repeat himself. Ask him/her if you can call or email him back later that day if you have more questions. Then you can call your boyfriend and cry. Or call your boyfriend and celebrate! I hope it’s the latter  

Remember, regardless of how the results turn out, repeat this mantra to yourself: It Will Be Ok. It Will Be Ok. Because it will. It doesn’t seem like it in this instance, but it will. And if it’s not okay, you’ll figure out how to make it through.

Trust me. 

That’s how long it has been since my surgery.

That’s how long it’s been since I woke up, dazed and foggy, to hear the surgical nurse tell the recovery room nurse “…complete thyroidectomy…”

Through the daze and fog (and the feeling that someone had ripped my head off), I knew.

I knew before the doctor came to see me, before my family reported back on their conversation with him.

I knew it was cancer. I knew I had cancer. I knew my life would change. 

IPhone photo 30 minutes after surgery that I made The Dude take. It felt like this scar was 6 miles wide. It was 1 inch. My surgeon is the MAN.

This past year has been a wild one. Surgery, radioactive iodine treatments, scans, MRIs, ultrasounds. Hundreds of labs. Dozens of appointments.

Stress. Mucho stress. Lots of tears.

Hugs. Lots of hugs. And love. Mountains and mountains of it.

My life has changed. Immensely. So much so that I don’t quite know how to put it into words. There’s a different feeling that I have about health and gratitude and patience and life in general. Everything, really.

Cancer gave me permission to care about myself first and foremost. For a Type A/oldest child/recovering perfectionist, that is a huge shift. I stopped feeling guilty for not doing something – at first, mainly because I was just too damn tired to feel guilty. I stopped apologizing. I care less about what other people think of me. I stopped excuses for things that I didn’t really want to do anyway. I didn’t follow through on things – and you know what? The earth continued spinning. Cancer made me realize that anger and anxiety and bad food just make you sick. 

Cancer allowed me to meet amazing, amazing people (Hil, Joanna, Ruthie and Dear Thyroid, Jodi, Kelly and Kripalu peeps, I’m looking at you!), without whom I would not have been able to deal and process everything. Cancer gave me a new reason to blog, a new reason to write and share my story with all of who. I am so grateful you have read and continue to read, even if it’s not the most uplifting or enjoyable topic. 

Cancer made me say “You know what….f#)@# it. Why not?!” I tried awesomely wonderful new things because of cancer. Naturopathic doctors, acupuncture, a vegan diet, green juices, Reiki, Thai yoga therapy, Ayurveda. I read Pema Chodron, Kris Carr, Wayne Dyer, Byron Katie. I tried meditation, journaling, counseling and went on yoga retreats and workshops. I quit my job to follow my dream. The Dude and I moved in together and got a sweet, sweet dog. 

And weirdly, at the same time, much of life is the same.

I’m still the same person, just with a new scar. I still act the same, just without as much tolerance for pettiness. I appreciate my family and friends and life so much more. I still have the same sarcastic sense of humor. I still worry. (I just can’t get past that one.) I still worry about my weight, my health, my future. I still have a hard time saying “No” – but I’m getting better at it. 

Smiley scar at 3 months.

I think if it hadn’t happened to me, if I hadn’t realized that it doesn’t matter if you eat kale chips or run 10 miles or are nice to people, that cancer DOESN’T discriminate – I would have continued making bad choices and holding on to bad habits. Am I where I’d like to be? No. Do I feel guilty about that? Sometimes. But I know that every day is a chance to try my best and be my healthiest. I know now that perfection is also a cancer that eats a way at your best efforts. 

That’s why instead of bemoaning the fact that I can’t run a half marathon or a marathon, I thought, “Well, at least I can do something.” 

And signed up for Boston’s Run to Remember, a 5 mile race through the American Cancer Society and DetermiNation on May 27, 2012. 

365 days ago, I was in pain. Shocked. Sad, but hopeful.

Today I’m celebrating.  To my health – and to yours. 

(This is often my perspective during at home yoga practice. “I’ll be really quiet when I lick your face…”)

Love is making extra of whatever you’re cooking since I won’t get home until 8pm (and so I can take some for lunch.)

Love is vacuuming. Always, always vacuuming.

Love is dealing with your stressed out, snappy, Irish tempered girlfriend…and managing not to drop her off on the side of the highway. 

Love is working over time for 2 weeks – and then spending that money on an overnight trip to Provincetown. Just the two of you.

Love is taking the garbage out every week. 

Love is coming home to apple galette. Always, always apple galette. 

Love is taking the time to think about how lucky you are that you are extraordinarily lucky to have such a smart, funny, understanding, calm and supportive partner.  

In that respect, I have a few goals I’d like to accomplish this month too!

November Goals:

1. Continue my 30 Day Yoga Challenge and get on the mat daily.

This could be 10 minutes, 45 or 90 minutes – getting on there and practicing in order to build a habit is what I’m going for!)

2. Pack all of my meals for the day.

Lately, my disgestion has been less than stellar and I’ve been having flashbacks to my intestinal issues this summer. Since I do NOT want to go through that again, I’m really trying to be better about eating many more vegetables and whole foods. I’ve been really busy lately, and some days I’m much more prepared than others – and if I’m not prepared, it’s been quick and easy to grab a breakfast sandwich or a crappy baked good. These things prevent me from gnawing my arm off, but they don’t help my stomach or my desire to feel better.

3. Do a 30 Day Eat At Home Challenge.

This is closely related to #2. I have been spending much too much at coffee shops and on snacks and drinks to and from campus, between classes, to help me study, etc. Not only is it bad for my wallet, it’s bad for my health. No more Starbucks breakfasts or crappy lunches! (Disclaimer: I do not count salad bars in this. If I DO need an emergency lunch, salad bar is better than nothing). I may or may not be documenting more of my food on here, to help me get into the habit. Probably not every day (since my schedule is way too crazy for that), but hopefully I’ll be able to post 3 times a week.

What are your November goals?!