Dodging Bullets

The idea for this blog originally came from a conversation that I had with a friend of mine last week.  As I perused the wonderful world of Facebook, I noticed that one of his ex-girlfriends recently had a child.  "Bullet dodged," he told me.  "You should write about something like that, we've all dodged bullets."  

So, I got to thinking, and he is 100% correct, everyone has dodged bullets.  All of us look back on different aspects of our lives and think "thank God..."  Thank God my friend pulled me away from the creepy guy trying to dance with me at the club.  Thank God I somehow stopped before rear-ending the car in front of me.  Thank God I got a job after college.... What have you.  

Initially, this blog was going to be all about those figurative bullets that I've dodged.  After my Friday evening on the South Side, however, this blog will now be about a literal bullet that I dodged, and the aftermath that came with it. 

Don't even ask, everything I'm about to tell you is absolutely true.

Around 12:50a.m., my friends and I exited Mullen's on 21st and East Carson Street.  At the exact moment that we stepped off of the tiny stoop and tried to turn left to proceed to Mario's, we were stampeded by countless African American men running in the opposite direction.  I looked across the street, and saw that the stampede existed there too.  Very few words were exchanged between those running.  I, however, had a few things to say while I hugged the side of Mullen's in an effort to avoid those fleeing the scene of the crime.

"What is this, a gang fight?"

"Seems like something that would happen in Betty's 1 at my store."

"That's why you can't open up bars like 'District 3.'"

And finally, as the police and ambulances began to show up and block off the next street over, 

"Oh no, my Jetta is parked on that block."

For the first time ever, in all of my years of going to the South Side, I got a parking spot directly on East Carson Street.  Then, it became part of the crime scene of a shooting.  This is kind of the epitome of "white girl problems."

After the runaways seemed to have vacated the general area, and most of my friends left the general area also,  Rachel suggested we get a closer look.  Eric was the only person that stuck with us, thanks Eric!  As we slowly began to approach the next block, we caught portions of some conversations from the remaining bystanders.  "Shooting," and "District 3" were the general consensus. Welp, seems like I'm the modern day Nostradamus.  As the EMTs loaded the shooting victim into the ambulance, he thew up a couple of gang signs to the crowd that I am unfamiliar with.  The EMT scolded him, "I'm not going to tell you again, keep your arms down, you've just been shot."

One man walked by us yelling about the fact that no one was searched upon entry to the club.  "All they was worried about was that guap," he said.  After talking to Keela, I now know what guap is.  Looking back, I should have used context clues, as that word is in one of my favorite rap songs ever "This is Why I'm Hot."  I digress... 

 Another man had the same problem as me, his car was part of the crime scene.  However, I wasn't in a hurry to get home and he was.  He tried to un-parallel park his vehicle even though it was between two cars, had a police car parked next to it, and was directly across the street from the crime scene.  Think I'm kidding? Here:

"A picture is worth 1,000 words." Amen

After backing into the parking meter numerous times and backing into the car behind him also, a police officer approached the man and told him to turn off his car.  This caused quite the uproar.  "No I did not roll up on your because you're black," the officer told him. "I rolled up on you because you just backed into the car behind you, you are about the hit my police car, and someone just got shot and you are in a hurry to leave."  Ultimately the police re-parked the man's car and he was told to return in the morning to pick it up.  

From what I understand, city councilmen are working to have the club shut down before next the weekend.  The last club housed in that venue closed because of the same problem; gun violence. I hope the club does get shut down for good, so that those of us trying to enjoy ourselves on the South Side can do just that.

So, there is my literal bullet dodging story.  Would I ever go to District 3?  No, I wouldn't.  But being one block away at the exact time of the shooting is close enough for me, especially with the aftermath of the stampede.  I hope that is the closest that I ever have to come to dodging literal bullets.

PS: My next post will be live from Hawaii :) :) :) 

Here's to dodging bullets of every variety, 

Xoxo

Stupid Shit Girls Do

On Friday night, I found myself walking back to my car on the south side along the creepy river trail with one boy that I sort of know and one that I've never met before.  When the guy that I have met before asked me what my next blog would be about and I told him "Stupid Shit Girls Do," he replied, "Oh, like walking along the river at night with two strangers?"  So yes, this blog is about things just.like.that.  In the last few weeks I've observed some absolutely ridiculous shit that girls do, and often times I have thought to myself, "sweet Jesus, we are a VERY troubled gender."  Here is a small sample of the absurdities that I've witnessed by my fellow females....


They honestly believe that they can keep up with men in a shot taking contest.  Okay, no you cannot.  This problem is actually an epidemic.  "I bet I can take more shots than you," you'll hear the stupid girl say.  The guy accepts the bet, mostly because he has a 100% chance of winning, and the girl inevitably ends up crying, calling her ex-boyfriend, sleeping with her face on the toilet and spending the next day saying "I'm never drinking again."  Going to Shady Grove on wine night does not mean that you are qualified for a shot competition, especially with a man.  


They ask others if they look fat, knowing damn well that no one's opinion but their own matters.  It has been my experience that when a girl says, "does this dress make me look fat?"  It's because the dress doesn't make them look fat.  They ask the question purely to hear that they don't look fat.  If the girl truly thought she looked fat she would have done one of two things a)changed the dress b)not asked you if she looked fat or not.  Seriously, girls are messed up creatures. 


They obsess over one song, and listen to it 400 times a day.  I am guilty of this crime, I listened to Big Sean's "Ass" roughly 12 times a day for three months straight.  Last night at Sara's party, we listened to "Call Me Maybe" six times that I remember.  Sara screamed the lyrics every single time, and snapped along to the beat.  


Ever notice that these days every single girl you meet is a "model," except they really aren't at all.  Having your photo taken in the photo booth at Ross Park Mall doesn't qualify you as a model.  Having a photo shoot in the woods with a guy that owns a camera doesn't make you a model.  Having a Facebook photo album titled "Model Pics" doesn't make you a model.  You don't walk the runway, you aren't a Victoria's Secret Angel and you aren't on the cover of magazines... stop telling people you are a model. 


They wear glasses when they actually have fantastic vision.  I don't understand this whatsoever.  I think that maybe they are trying to convince people that they are smart?  Anyways, newsflash, no matter how many pairs of fake glasses you own, if you still say stupid shit on the reg., everyone knows that you aren't Einstein. At the end of the day, girls that wear fake glasses are in the same category as those that cake on their make up and wear colored contacts: Fake.


They wear yoga pants, or work out clothes in general, with absolutely no intention of working out.  I see this ALL the time.  Honestly, yoga pants shouldn't even be made in giant sizes because they do more harm than good.  Yoga pants have gone from clothes only worn to work out in (their original use), to clothes worn out anywhere at all when girls don't feel like putting pants on.  I'm willing to bet that 80% of the people that regularly sport yoga pants have never actually done yoga in their life.  I know what you're thinking, "that's a really high percentage."  Yeah, well... look around. 


They try to multitask while driving.  Look, we are already bad drivers; it's a fact.  We are bad drivers when we are doing nothing but driving, so what makes you think you can successfully drive a car while putting on mascara, texting your friends or searching in your purse for something?  Last week I almost rear-ended a car when trying to retrieve my Bruegger's bagel from my passenger's seat.  Girls even say stupid things like, "I'm so good at texting and driving."  No, you aren't, you aren't even good at driving. If you don't care about your own safety, that's one thing, but to put other's safety in jeopardy is just selfish.


Every guy reading this is probably impressed by my ability to pick up on these idiotic characteristics.  Every girl reading this is probably either laughing, cause they know people like this or they are straight up pissed off because they are like the girls listed above.  Either way, everything discussed above is 100% factual. 


I hope that everyone has a fantastic week and enjoys this amazing weather! 


Here's to keeping it real, ladies.


Xoxo

Things "Men" Have Told Me

This particular blog has gone through many editing phases, as I've cut and added in sections while deciding what portions of my personal life should be showcased for the public.  More importantly, I've been spending a great deal of time working on my book and some of these tidbits are included on a much larger scale there.  Basically, I didn't wait this little blog to spoil anything for my readers. This post was also inspired when a male friend of mine told me, "If we are ever going to get married, you'll have to understand that I'm always right."  It was at that point that I realized, I've never met a man that was wrong. The following will, of course, prove otherwise.

In my younger college years, my boyfriend once told me, "If you do a keg stand, you are a slut."  A pretty interesting claim, if I do say so myself. In no way am I saying that girls who participate in keg stands are the epitome of class.  I am, however, suggesting that doing a keg stand has absolutely nothing in common with frequency of sexual intercourse or number of sexual partners.  Later in our relationship, after I was involved a car accident that sent my roommate and I to the emergency room, that same boy flipped out on me when I told him that I was unable to go to wing night with him and his friends.  In an earlier blog post I mentioned that most people will not remain single forever.  This particular individual may very well beat the odds.

During my first week of work, I witnessed a very large African American man screaming profanities at the register.  While he was not necessarily swearing AT anyone, he was yelling the F word quite loudly.  Let's face it, if I can hear you over the music you're far too loud.  I approached the man and asked him to "please stop using those words, there are children around."  The man pointed in my face and told me, "I will say whatever I want because I am a grown ass man."  We exchanged our sides of the dispute  back and forth before I realized that this man (much like the great majority of other men in the world) truly thought he was correct, and there was no sense in arguing with him.  On his way out of the store, he continued to scream profanities and throw clothes onto the ground.  I called security and inadvertently made my first arrest. This man learned the hard way that he in fact could not say what he wanted.  Sucks to suck.


When I went away to college I was absolutely fascinated with a boy from home.  Much like life always seems to work, the two of us met just a couple of months before I was moving away.  He was older than I was, liked to throw parties, and always seemed carefree.  Although we hung out almost every day, he told me that he didn't want a girlfriend.  When I got to college, we talked on the phone every single day.  Mind you, we weren't dating.  Within the first month of college, I came back to Pittsburgh twice to hang out with this boy... even though we "weren't dating."  After two months of being away at school, he showed up on my dorm porch as a surprise with flowers in hand.  Still, we weren't dating.  Soon after that, during a phone conversation, we broke up.  "Strange," I told him, "Since we were never actually dating."  Talk about mixed signals.  I know I was not the first girl to face a problem like this, and I know I most certainly will not be the last either. 

A few years ago, a boy I was interested in proclaimed to myself and a few of my friends that he "wished he was a dolphin."  I don't exactly know why he felt that way, or why he chose to express it in front of a large group of people, but he did.  I had no choice but to lose interest in this particular individual.  My friends would have never forgotten a comment like that.  In fact, they still bring it up to this day.  I went out with that boy twice after he decided he wanted to be a mammal.  Both of those times, my brother asked me if he licked the windows in my car.  

 Most recently, a boy told me that wasn't capable of running the marathon.  Funny, right?  "Nicole, you don't eat enough calories to walk a mile, how do you think you are going to run a marathon?"  Yikes.  Proved you wrong, didn't I?  To be fair, the boy was great about constantly only caring about himself.  I was rather surprised by his sudden interest in my caloric intake.  


If I've learned anything from the "men" above, it's that they are better off not talking at all.  Additionally, I think that each of them should meet one another, as they would make a fantastic group of friends.  I'd love to continue with the madness, but I'm saving a great deal of material for my book which will be about ex-boyfriends and first dates.  Stay tuned. Until next week....


Here's to cute boys keeping their stupid mouths shut, 


Xoxo

Improper Parenting 101

I hope that everyone enjoyed their long weekend! I worked Sunday and Monday AND lived to tell about it.  Here is some hilarity to kick off your work week :)

After witnessing a child crawl around on the ground like a stray dog at my local Primanti's this weekend, my hatred for children was re-ignited.  After much reflection, I realized it's not only the children that rub me the wrong way, but also their parents.  The following are all scenarios of piss poor parenting (alliteration) that I have witnessed with my very own eyes, that have caused me to say (often times out loud), "I am never having kids."

Last week, a little boy was jumping around my store from chair to chair while his dad was checking the prices of numerous shorts at the register, completely oblivious to what his son was doing behind him.  As little Billy (I've made up this name for him), jumps off of one of the chairs, his little knees buckle, and he lands face first onto an end table.  Now, I know that I tend to exaggerate the details of stories from time to time; but I must say that I was absolutely astonished by the large amount of blood that came out of Billy's tiny nose.  Cue Billy's waterworks and crying.  I rush behind the register and grab a box of paper towels.  Still, Billy's dad is not interested in anything but cargo shorts.  I sit Indian style on the floor and motion for Billy to sit on my lap.  He does.  I try to stop his bloody nose paper towel after paper towel.  When does his dad turn around?  Six paper towels later, and only after his purchase has been finalized, of course.  I washed my hands 13 times. 

I know this may seem like I should be a parent, but allow me to prove otherwise.  If Billy was my child, he wouldn't have the opportunity to attain a bloody nose because I was have told him about himself when he stood up on the chair to begin with.  If, for whatever reason, it got to the point of a nose bleed, I would probably say something like, "Way to go, Billy.  You deserve a bloody nose for acting like an idiot." 

While visiting Andrea in New York a couple of weeks ago, I watched a woman bust out her boob at the breakfast table of a very nice and expensive restaurant.  Now, I don't know the logistics of how breast feeding works, but I do know about social norms.  I do know that only three minutes after the woman arrived, she was taking her top off.  Couldn't she have done that before she left the house, or in the car, or in the bathroom?  If I took my boob out at the breakfast table, I would certainly be asked to leave the establishment, and reasonably so. 


Thursday morning, Target check out lane #2.  A little boy throws the biggest tantrum of 2012 when his mom refuses to purchase a pack of Skittles.  He puts them in the cart, mom takes them out.  He puts them in the cart, mom takes them back out.  This happens FIVE TIMES.  The first two times I laughed and thought to myself, this lady is a moron for having a child.  The following three times I just became more and more annoyed by the fact that I couldn't buy my things because this jackass couldn't take no for an answer.  By the fifth time, I'd had enough.  Quite loudly I said to the child, "SKITTLES MAKE YOU FAT."  The mom stared at me then dragged the kid out of the store.  Perhaps if she would have said something instead of playing hot potato with the stupid pack of Skittles, she would have seen some results.  If this was my child, I'd leave him in the car with the window cracked after just one incident resembling this one.

Today, two small Asian girls estimated ages of six and eight are sitting on the ground criss cross apple sauce (Indian style) in the MIDDLE OF THE MALL eating some Auntie Anne's pretzels.  It is Memorial Day, the mall is busy, and here are two little girls straight having a picnic on the dirty mall floor in the middle of heavy traffic.  I'd ask where their parents were, but I think I already know the answer; probably buying in bulk at AnF to take back to their country to re-sell.  Do their parents not watch the news?  This is the set up for a perfect kidnapping.  


You know why I'm not having babies?  To prove a point.  To try to make up for some of these idiots that HAD kids but SHOULDN'T HAVE.  Some people aren't meant to have babies; they don't possess the mental or emotional capabilities to properly bring up a child, but they have one (or two or three or four) anyways.  I'm waving the white flag, no babies for me... I surrender.  Would I do an alright job of helping a child to develop?  Perhaps.  But, have you ever seen a mother in a grocery store with her child?  Does she look happy?  The answer is no, and there is a reason for that.  Kids have needs, and they have a lot of them.  Once you have a child, you cannot physically do ANYTHING without your child.  It seems as though all of the parents that I have discussed above failed to recognize that before choosing to procreate. 

Perhaps If I ever found a male that I believed was capable of being a father, I may reconsider.  Maybe the kid that smacked his face off of the Hollister table has a perfectly caring and compassionate mother.  MAYBE, but maybe not. Having only 50% of proper parenting is a failing grade, even at Shaler. My advice?  Choose your companion wisely.  You don't want your toddler to end up like poor Billy.


To everyone that has children that don't throw tantrums or jump on couches in public, congratulations.  You must have a magic potion, and I encourage you to share it with others. To parents of children like the ones I've mentioned above; there is a reason they act like that; these are learned behaviors.  To everyone without children, let's go out this weekend.


Here's to standing in as a parent to a child that isn't yours, 


Xoxo

Oh No, You Didn't

Happy Tuesday, Everyone! :)

My sincere apologies for the delay of this post, I've been a busy little bee.  The good news is, with the extra time, I was able to collect a great deal of material for this post.  Recently, I have been witness to a lot of people doing absolutely ridiculous things.  Most of these instances deal with stupidity, disrespect towards others, and an overall disregard for social norms.  My responses to these scenarios, as well as my thoughts that I couldn't say out loud at the time, are included below. 

Oh no you didn't just throw at tantrum at Starbucks because one of the employees told you that she was unable to post a flyer for your independent film.  "How do you consider your business a social gathering place if members of the public can't post advertisements?" Is what the man asked poor Jill, who was only trying to make his drink while he lectured her.  What I said: "They're a social gathering place because anyone can walk in and chat with their friend at a table."  What I thought: How do you expect anyone to take you seriously in your Jerusalem cruisers (Jesus sandals) and a man purse?  Jill wants nothing to do with this conversation and can't wait for you to be in the parking lot and out of her life forever. She doesn't make the rules... she is trying to make your drink, but you won't leave her alone.  Also, pleaseeeee shut up so I can order my drink and get to work.  Shit.

Oh no you didn't just send me a beer from the bar to my table while I was on a date with someone.  What I said: (awkward thank you wave).  What I thought: Are you kidding me?  You look roughly 40 years old and I'm on a god damned date.  Furthermore, we don't know each other.  What exactly are your aspirations for this bold move?  That I leave my date and head home with you?  For all you know, this could be my husband.  You idiot.


Oh no you didn't just yell at me in the mall while walking and then trip over a potted plant.  What I said: (pointed and laughed).  What I thought:  Put down the crack pipe and pay attention to where you're walking.  I'd love to respond to whatever it is that you were yelling at me, but your lack of teeth made it very hard to decipher what you were yelling.  Sorry?


Oh no you didn't just fall asleep sitting upright on my couch and drop your beer, in it's entirety, all over my carpet.  What I said: screamed at the top of my lungs.  What I thought: I want to hate you, but I cant. How are you this tired at midnight? Psycho. 


Oh no you didn't host a party with a bounce castle in your backyard, which is practically my backyard, and get my hopes up for a few fun-filled drunken moments only to rip down the bounce castle unexpectedly before I was even able to get a good buzz.  What I said: (Complained to myself and Rachel).  What I though:  Not only did your kids annoy the crap out of me while screaming all day long on the bounce castle, but now I get no benefit whatsoever?  You are selfish. 

Oh no you didn't just ask about how frequently I participate in sexual activities even though you are 50+ years older than me.  What I said: "You are a sick fuck." What I thought: You're obviously a horny old man, but I'm not going to stop talking to you because you said one ridiculous thing to me because I can't be mean to anyone...especially you.  There were also a lot of people around, so if I go missing they will know where to look.  Plus a lot of people read this blog. ...


Oh no you didn't get pissed at me for catching you steal and then proceed to knock every stack of shirts off of every table that you passed on the way to the front door while telling me that you were going to "punch me in the effing face."  What I said: "Go ahead and punch me, I'm not scared of you.  If I was going to punch someone, I wouldn't give them a heads-up first.  People like you shouldn't be allowed in public because you have a bad attitude and no self-control.  The mall is for shopping, not for tantrums."  What I thought: Well, I feel much better now that I told you about yourself.  I can't wait to clean up this mess you made.  Wow, you are fat.

Oh no you didn't yell at me because we only have three fitting rooms and you are "in a hurry."  What I said: "I'm sorry that you feel that way.  I'd build you a new one but I don't have the materials for that and I'm not very handy."  What I thought: Well played, Nicole.


Oh no you didn't whistle at me in the parking lot and yell that you were going to "do terrible things to me" while you were with another girl.  What I said: "HAHAHAHAHA rightttttt."  What I thought:  I wouldn't touch you if you were the last remaining human on earth. 

Oh no you didn't sass the shit out of me on marathon day and then call me the next day to shoot the shit like nothing went wrong the day before.  What I said: "Okay no, you were really rude to me yesterday and we aren't friends."  What I thought:  You are the most troubled person I've ever encountered in my 24 years of existence.

 I strongly encourage everyone to keep a journal of the absurdities in their life, as this is how I was able to conglomerate all of these moments into one forum.  Also, know that if you try to outwit me you will fail miserably.  The only person in life who has better comebacks than me is my brother, and he is more intelligent and more sassy than I will ever be.  I hope that everyone got a good laugh or two out of this and more importantly I hope that everyone has a great week and gets a nice tan from this absolutely amazing weather. 


As always, 


Xoxo <3

Not "Single Forever," Just Smart.

In lieu of mother's day, I think it is important for each of us to tip our hats to the mother's of the world.  Without them, well, we wouldn't exist.  I've become the person that I am today based on very important guidance from some of the best women I know.  

Some say that behind every man is a strong woman, and I certainly defend the validity of that argument.  However, I'm sure that there are a ton of men out there that have strong women that they don't even deserve.  In fact, the point of this blog is to insist that any woman stuck with an idiot moves on.  Yet somehow, I consistently see an innumerable amount of people settling for less than they deserve.  Note:  This scenario also applies to men settling for idiotic women.  After a great deal of brainstorming on why this issue exists, I've come up with a few thoughts and potential explanations. 


In high school, some of us dated one person for a long period of time. At some point, we said or thought, "I want to spend the rest of my life with this person." And for most of us, that ended up not being the case.  I am not saying that high school sweethearts never get married or that it never works out.  I am just saying that the great majority of us had, in fact, not found our soul mate at the age of 18.  So, for most of us, we broke up and moved on.


Then college comes, and most of us have at least one substantial relationship in those four years.  And, at some point we either said or thought, "I want to spend the rest of my life with this person."  Again, the great majority of us found ourselves being wrong.  This may have occurred for a multitude of reasons, but ultimately, at the age of 23, we came to the realization that we had not found our soul mate. So, for most of us, we broke up and moved on.


After college, we dated someone else.  And, again, for most of us it just didn't work out.  But we tried, and we tried really hard.  We did this because at this point, it was of utmost importance for us to find the one.  If we didn't marry the person we dated after college, how will we ever find someone else to marry?

It is usually around this point that I hear people (particularly women) say, "I am going to be single forever" while they shovel their favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry's ice cream into their mouth with a tablespoon.  COME ON PEOPLE.  Forever is a long time, and those years PROBABLY won't be filled with singality (I just made that word up, but it works). The point is, you will not be single forever.  If you are, you would have to be trying very very hard to make sure that you don't woo anyone from now until forever. 


You know why people think that they are going to be single "forever?"  Because, society tells us that we should have found our significant other in our 20s, and that we should be married by 30.  The same person that decided this set of generic rules was probably the one that married their boyfriend from the ninth grade. 
 
STOP.  I can't take it anymore.  Get ready, because like always, I'm about to give you the truth.  

I do not think it is remotely possible to meet your true love in college.  Unless there is a correlation between amount of beers you bong, football games you attend, and attaining your soul mate.... this simply can't be true.  I think that people try to convince themselves that they are dating the person that they're going to marry, because they are trying to mold into society's idea of a happy life.  

I'd like to make my own rules for eternal happiness, thanks.


No one but you knows what makes you happy.  So, if you are in your twenties and find yourself dating someone that you realize isn't the one, LET THEM GO.  Dating an idiot in your twenties doesn't mean that you have no choice but to marry them... it means that you can chalk up another general loss and move onto someone new that isn't an idiot.  So, here is the problem.... We (as a society) are settling.  We are settling for people that just don't deserve us, and we're doing it for absurd reasons.  There is a reason that divorce rates are higher than ever, so play it smart people.  If you're 30 and you aren't married yet, I think you should get a medal.  By 30, you've probably dated a fair amount of people and you haven't married any of them yet.  This classifies you in the "I have a backbone" category.  Congratulations. 


At this point, anyone that is young and married has written off my blog for life.  If you are young, and married, and happy- this simply doesn't apply to you.  But if you are young, married, and hate your life- you've unfortunately become apart of the large group of people that this blog is about.  I'm not picking on anyone here, I'm just stating pure facts in order to cause an epiphany for the masses. #SorryI'mNotSorry.  


For the love of God, people, please ditch the idiots.  Don't marry someone just because you're out of college.  Marry them because they love you more than you ever knew was possible.  The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than what you settled for.  While I won't slander anyone's name here, I will say that I practice what I preach, and if you ever find yourself in a situation that involves you needing to ditch an idiot, call me and I can give you a pep-talk.


Here's to never settling, 


Xoxo

My First Marathon! :)

Bib pick-up day!

After months and months of training, I ran my first half marathon yesterday!  It was the most magical experience of my 24 years of existence.  I finished 13.1 in two hours and 22 minutes, beating my goal with eight minutes to spare.  I felt more self-fulfillment in completing the half marathon than I did when I graduated college, and I can't really explain that dichotomy.  I'll use this post to discuss my success in the marathon and the entire experience as a whole.

The training period was long.  At times, it was extremely challenging.  I started training for this race back in February.  I dove into the training period with the firm understanding that this half marathon wasn't going to run itself.  I knew that this was not a 5K, and that I couldn't just wake up in the morning and decide to run it.  I joined a gym that is open 24 hours a day, and until the warmer weather started, I worked out like a crazy woman four of five days a week, and early in the morning (since that's when the rain would be).  When the spring weather came, I ran the lake at North Park a couple of times a week.  Later on in my training, on long distance days, I ran the lake twice.  After months and months of distance running, my training schedule suggested two short runs the week leading up to the race.  To me, this was the most difficult part of training because I wanted to keep running long distances, but I knew that I couldn't. 

In the days leading up to the marathon, I had to eat every carbohydrate that I saw, essentially. I ate pasta dinners for three days leading up to the race in order to gain some extra energy for 13 miles of bliss.  In smaller races that I have run in the past, I was never able to eat breakfast in the morning because all of the bouncing up and down gave me a sick tummy.  The same applied to this race.  I drank some water in the morning and headed downtown.  From what I understand, this isn't normal... but, I wasn't trying to vomit on myself at any point in the race. 

In races that I have previously run, I struggled when trying to run and drink the water.  However, this time around, part of my training included training myself to drink the water while in motion.  This was highly successful.  If I hadn't taken the water at the fluid stations along the marathon course, I would have died.  The weather was quite warm.  Additionally, for about four miles, runners ran directly towards the sun.  At some fluid stations, I took two cups of water.  

Right before the race started!

 I have never eaten food during a race before, but I did yesterday.  At mile seven, I accepted an orange slice from a 10-year-old child.  At mile nine, I ate two gummy worms from a volunteer.  This decision came after I witnessed a runner throwing up all over herself on a stretcher while being wheeled into an ambulance.  I made the executive decision that the last thing I needed was low blood sugar.  Bring on the gummy worms.  

During the race, I was overwhelmed by the number of people standing along the roadways cheering for all of the runners.  At mile three I saw a man holding a sign that said, "Congrats, you've been running longer than Kim Kardashian's marriage."  At mile four, a wife standing on the side of the course handed her racing husband one of their children.  He continued running, while carrying his child, the entire way across the 16th street bridge. At mile 8, I high-fived the hands of 20+ military men and women.  At mile 10, a woman spectator told me that I had nice legs.  At mile 12, every person I passed assured me, "you're almost there, just one more mile."  At every point in the race, there were spectators along the course.  It was unbelievable.  For everyone who complains about Pittsburgh, I encourage you to run or be a spectator at the marathon.  I have never participated in an event with a greater sense of community. 

Geoff and I found each other after the race!

So, how do I feel today?  Not so hot.  My stride resembles that of an elderly woman.  Steps are an incredible challenge.  I started my day off with a massage, pedicure, and then a nap.  My sore muscles and callused feet will heal.  The pride and sense of accomplishment that come with running 13 MILES, are here to stay.  Also, I have a medal, which is here to stay too! :) 

To finish off this blog, I'd like to extend a sincere thank you to every person who supported me throughout training, the marathon, and after the fact.  To every volunteer along the race course that handed me water, to all of the bands especially the girl singing "Rolling in the Deep" at mile four AND Jake Schreiber, all of my friends that were just as excited as I was to be running the race, to Justin Sanislo who came to the race and made me a poster, to Sara K who sent me a celebratory popcorn cornucopia in a smiley face tin, to my parents who were SO SUPPORTIVE, to my brother who drove home from school to see me run, and all of my family and friends who called, texted, emailed, tweeted, and any other form of communication that I am forgetting- THANK YOU.  The support from each one of you has been absolutely amazing, and I appreciate it more than I will ever be able to put into words.  This experience, without a doubt, has been the best experience of my life.

Here's to everyone achieving their goals with the support of amazing people <3<3<3

Xoxo