The world hasn’t ended.

Well, we survived. As if I was actually concerned. To be honest, it took listening to NPR at 4pm today to realize that today was the day that the Mayan calendar ended.

But whatever. Who cares.

What I care about is the fact that I now live with my husband. We started driving from Fort Collins, Colorado, at 6pm on Saturday and arrived in the beautifully foggy Saint Louis at around 9am on Sunday. We didn’t stop, we didn’t get a hotel, we just motored through the beautiful(ly dark) state of Kansas and all it has to offer (mostly, windmills). No rest for the wicked. We started unpacking everything we transported in the 12′ Penske truck into our new grown-up-married-peoples loft. Then, instead of resting, we went to get all my stuff from my house, and moved it into the new place. Then we unpacked. Made a trip to Bed Bath & Beyond. Unpacked some more. All on Sunday.

I slept like the world had ended that day. But alas, it didn’t.

Now that nearly everything is unpacked and put in its right place in our massive two-bedroom, two-bathroom loft in the city of Saint Louis, we are feeling settled in. We even reignited our tradition of Trainer T-days tonight, which was fantastic. Now, if only I could wake up before the sun rises, so I could get more track work in…

But who wants to settle in? We’ll be heading to Michigan on Saturday for some quality family time and more driving, because driving is what we love to do… right? It’s a good thing Baberaham makes a great travel buddy. Safe travels to all who will be traveling this weekend, whether it’s in a car, train, plane, boat, or whatever.

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The life and times…

Adventuring back into the blogosphere is a challenge. I used to have it good when I was blogging, things were easy. I’d do something fun in training and post about it. I’d read blog posts of friends who were training for triathlons, like me, and see what they were eating, drinking, running, swimming, biking, yoga-ing, reading, watching, etcetera. I got comfortable with using the word “blog,” and I’d become so proficient at it that I could write a blog post while eating dinner or riding on the trainer. It would be a brain dump a few times a week (not nearly as frequently as I’d poop, of course), and voila- I had a virtual diary of my life and times for a good solid portion of my graduate school years.

And then, like a freight train, the real world hit me. Maybe I didn’t have anything exciting to blog about, or I didn’t have time, or I had too many excuses. My stint in competitive racing came to a screeching halt when I took on training for academics, also known as “mixed martial arts meets squash for your brain,” and that made me even less excited to blog, when all I had to blog about was how much it hurt to run 5 miles, how many times I banged my head against the wall trying to figure out an experiment, or how many bowls of ice cream I ate since the last time I rode my bike. Trust me, you don’t want to know. I gained weight, which made me even less excited than I had been about blogging, because who wants to listen to an out-of-shape fatty drone on and on about how hard it is to train when her motivation falls out the window at the mention of happy hour? Unless, the happy hour was at Tom’s, and fun stories were shared with fantastic coworkers.

Oops. See what I mean? I probably lost at least 50% of my readers just now.

So what am I going to talk about, as a washed up former age-group triathlete turned focused post-doctoral scientist? Well, probably not triathlon. But, you will likely see a lot of what I am embracing now: my runner self. I’ll remind you what it feels like to get back into shape (read: droning on and on about her dumpy self). OK, I’ll keep droning to a minimum. I’ll take you on explorations in St Louis, via bike and on foot, and share with you my favoritest, secretest (and some not-so-secret) spots that make me so happy to be living where I am. I’ll share testaments of my daily life, as an academic and an athlete regaining the reigns of her bad-ass self. I can’t wait to share with you pieces of me again, as I make my way down the ebb and flow of the life I lead. And I’ll share just how I am putting myself back together- This, my friends, will be the humpty dumpty story of a fitness fanatic who fell off the wagon. And I’m back, with some figurative super glue.