Reciprocity

The term "reciprocity" has been floating around my blog a lot lately. I first used it to describe what I wanted in a relationship, and later used it to describe a valued trait of my new relationship. However, I realized today that I have used mostly when talking about my romantic partners, without commenting on the other areas of life in which it comes up.

According to Dictionary.com, reciprocity is "a reciprocal state or relation; mutual exchange; a mutual exchange of commercial or other privileges." In fact, there were a bunch of different definitions, but they all included the word "mutual."

Hence, the term reciprocity means, to me, a mutual sharing of love, consideration, honesty, opinions, and, above all, respect. It is an open expression of feelings and thoughts, a shared expectation of truthfulness. It is, quite simply, a shared experience, not a one-way road.

Have you ever been in a relationship that was not mutual? A friendship, romantic relationship, partnership? Doesn't it feel like you're doing a whole lotta work, with no return? See, it took me a while to figure it out, but relationships shouldn't be like that, whatever the type of relationship. I happened to come into a bunch of these types of relationships where I felt like I was putting it out there, and expecting the other to do the same. When the response was not as I has hoped, was not mutual, it was devastating. It was maddening, painful, and scarring.

My parents relatiosnhip was like this. My dad was pretty closed down about any feeling other than anger, which I think left my mom feeling like hers didn't matter. He made the money, so his was the final say in matters. He made the decisions, and her opinion/needs were ignored.

I learned from this. This was my model.

Everyone's understanding of mutual exchange can be different. Everyone has a perception of the work they are putting into a relationship. Thus, some people might actually think they are working hard in a partnership (which may be true for them - "hard" is a relative term), but I also think that, despite what the non-mutual people perceive themselves to be, they know, underneath their surface of lies and half-assed efforts, that they know the real deal. They know that they are not being 100%. They know that they are short-changing the other person. But to make themselves feel better, they can manipulate the situation to make you think you are the crazy one, like you're asking too much of them (cause sometimes honesty is the hardest effort they can muster). Only the honest ones can turn around and say, "Yeah, I know I haven't been the best of friend, but I am working on it." Or something like that.

On the flip side, its the non-mutuals that make the mutuals that much more appreciated. When you form a relationship with someone that will literally put it all out there, say, "Yeah, I might get hurt, but I respect you enough to be honest/forthright," it's almost jarring. But in a good way. You want to hear about my feelings and you're not going to tell me their wrong? You not only respect my expectations, but request that I don't lower them? You value my insight? What?!?!?!?! How foreign. Yet refreshing.

So you want to be my friend? My partner? Great, I love it and welcome it. I love friends so much I have the best in the world. And family, for that matter. In fact, I love my family so much I consider it honor for anyone to be part of it. But that honor needs to be earned. You don't get it simply by just knowing me.

I am pretty sure that if you have read this blog long enough, you know that I really have some of the most amazing people at my finger tips. And frankly, there have been times I have been the non-mutual. I admit it, I am ashamed of it, and I have NO ONE to blame but myself. But I am a work in progress. I return my phone calls now. I make plans and stick to them without making excuses. I call just to "check in." People ask me for feedback, and I give it honestly.

So you want to be my friend? Act like it. Show some reciprocity.

Ugh

First, thanks to everyone for the awesome comments and emails regarding the previous post. I know it was a little weird and sappy (thanks Clyde for the feedback) but everyone has been super supportive. So no more sappy stuff for a while.

On a completely separate note, I just got back from a 2-day conference in the state capital of lovely Springfield, Illinois (gross) and seem to have picked up what might be the flu along the way. I feel like crap, but we'll see how it goes tomorrow. I am scheduled to do the Apple Cider ride in Michigan this weekend (what? a ride? could it be possible? more info below!) but if my chest doesn't open up in the next 24 hours, I may not go.

So about the ride. It's a century with a couple smaller ride as well. I would be doing the 25-miler, which leads me my next point. My coach sent me my first 2-week IM Arizona training plan this past week. Yep, here I go again.

So far I have done a run, swim and short ride this week. And so far, so good. I am pretty excited about it, and the plan starts out as a slow build.

So I will keep you updated as the training begins, and fingers crossed that I feel better!

My Turn

Okay, so this post has been a while coming. I needed to get my thoughts together before posting, mostly because I wanted to do it right and do it honestly. And frankly, I do the whole ranting-silliness thing pretty well, but when it comes to intimate feelings, I don’t do so well. So part of the delay was my own inability to put these things into words.

And before I start, I should mention that this post is sentimental as all hell. Please divert your eyes if you can't stand emotional chicks. If you choose to keep reading, consider yourself warned.

Remember a couple weeks back, right before my sister’s wedding in Rhode Island, I was going through this whole new world of dating, and trying to figure out what I wanted and needed? There were a few stumbling blocks, road bumps if you will, and of course I had to overthink everything (hey, I’m a psychologist, it’s a casualty of the job…and my own neurosis, who am I kidding?) I posted back then about my expectations of my ideal partner – and at the top of the list was that I expect that when the other person thinks about me, he smiles. The list that follows included things like expecting to have my hand held, expecting to be called on my shit, expecting health and the ability to look at personal flaws, etc. It was quite a list.

Little did I know that, while on that trip, I would receive a comment on one of my posts that would eventually lead to the person I wrote about. When I read that comment, I was sitting in the kitchen of the rented house, it was 2AM, and the wedding just ended. I was trying to get out a post before boarding my plane in a few short hours, and I read it. It was simple, nice. The comment was from The Big Cheese, a blogger whom I had not yet read, and he commented that my family was good-looking.

Over the next two weeks, the comments continued, and finally I emailed him to thank him for such nice words. That email turned to more emails, and then eventually a comment that his job might land him in Chicago. When this trip was confirmed, I emailed that we should grab Chicago pizza, seeing as how he had recently posted on the food he eats on the road. Numbers were exchanged, and one night, three days before he came, I returned home to a message asking if he could call me. I said yes, the phone rang, and four hours later, we hung up. The next night it was five hours. Then four hours the following night. It was like we had processed through 20 dates before even having one. Dating in dog years, he calls it.

Our first outing was the Cubs game. Weird, but at that time, I seriously thought it was just friendly thing. He was a guest in my town, and I was showing him around, and where better to take a sports freak then Wrigley Field, right? In the car, he made me laugh myself silly, and after the game, he kissed me under the Wrigley sign. I kinda figured at that point this was a bit more than a friendly outing. I remember at one point in the evening, around the eighth inning, when I thought something might be up, I called my sister from the bathroom stall in a panic, freaking out that, despite our marathon phone calls, I was so nervous that I couldn't form a cohesive sentence in front of him. She talked me off the ledge, gave me a pep talk, and sent me back to my seat with a pebble of self-confidence. (He still claims he never noticed my lack of conversation.)

Over the next three weeks, The Cheese spent most of his daytime hours working, and we hung out at night. We did a lot of cool, somewhat touristy things which I have highlighted in recent posts. But the more we hung out, the more things started to go in a direction that neither of us really expected.

But the logistics were tough. He would be leaving after three weeks. For crying out loud, he lives in a different state, he travels 25 days out of the month, and I am rooted in my job and life here. I am in the process of buying a house, and he just started work on a Master’s degree. How on earth would this work? I suspected we both wanted it to, but a long distance thing, though I have never done it, would be a tough task to undertake.

But we’re doing it. The way I see it, our relationship started with our ability to converse for hours, without even ever seeing each other. So now, hundreds of miles apart, we are calling on this ability to keep things together. Back to the marathon phone calls, the emails, the text messages – because at the end of it all, it is this part of the relationship that is going to make things last. As I once posted,

My needs are simple. I don’t require a particular career, or car, or house, or style of clothes (although I used to have this thing about wearing the right shoes – don’t ask, I’m over it now…sort of…unless it involves socks and sandals….then yes, there’s still an issue). Because you can’t see this stuff in the dark. You can’t see this stuff in the glow of the light over dinner in a dark corner of a restaurant. You can’t see this stuff in the tough times that inevitably will happen, and through which you will have to persevere together. It’s in those tough times, that I hope both me and the other can recall the time when we thought about each other, and smiled.

I guess the reason I am posting is because this blog is about my life, not just the triathlon part (as evidenced by poop posts), but all of it. And now Cheese is a part of my life. Last week he posted his version of events, so most of you all know what’s happening. But I have more reluctant. Please know that it is not because I was confused about my feelings, but rather I didn’t quite know how to put things into words. And even though I will talk crazy stuff about my life (like my nephew’s poop), I felt intensely private about this relationship. Almost like putting it out there for everyone might break the spell.

So the guy I had posted about, the one who I expected to meet all my expectations, actually exists. He is honest, ambitious, kind and selfless. He is side-splitting funny, intensely insightful, brave with his feelings, opinionated and intelligent. I could use a million words to describe him, but none of them would do him justice. He challenges my rigidity, my views, and my plans for the future. There’s a compatibility, as if we compliment each other’s strengths and flaws, rather than clash against each other. I stand back and think in amazement, “Ah, so that’s what reciprocity looks like!” Above all, he is real – he is the most down-to-earth, honest, real person I know. It’s is mind blowing still that a simple little blog, a couple of seemingly random instances, and clicks of a mouse have brought this thing to fruition.

I know this isn’t the Cheese you all know, and he’s probably mortified that I let out his little secret that, underneath all his hard talk and humor, he is all of the aforementioned description - but oh well.

So, that’s that. He took a lot of crap for his words, so I will end my post by giving you some pictures of his last day here. Thanks for letting me get all that out.

This was taken after dinner on Taylor Street - we went to Rosebud (yum!) and then for Italian ice at Mario's. I showed off my high school, and coincidentally my college, which are basically on the same street.

On his last weekend, we went to the Field Museum, and then walked north to Millennium Park. On the way, we encountered the Irish Fest, so we had a beer (well, he has a beer, and then half of mine because I couldn't finish), then off to lunch! Oh and funny story - Yeah, by car got broken into that day. I apparently was one of about six that hit in the Soldier Field parking lot.

Cheese and Sue the Dinosaur.

Oh, I forgot - on the walk north, we passed Buckingham Fountain, and Cheese was so excited for some reason to see the "Married with Children" fountain. And no shit, there were no less than five weddings between the Fountain and Millennium Park. Wow, how very original. As a matter of fact, right behind me in this picture, a couple was actually getting married.

So we make it to Millennium Park. I don't know if Cheese was just pouty because he was hungry (we both were starving), or just joking around. With him, it could have been either. Anyhoo, this is at Cloud Gate (I think is the formal name) otherwise known as the Bean.

Five bucks to the first person who can tell me what that weirdo is doing to my right.

At the restaurant, Park Grill.

And that is it, in a very long-winded nutshell.

Careful - This is Kinda Gross

Yeah, that's what you think it is. This was a little gift given by my 8-month-old nephew to his mommy (my sister) the other day. Yup, right there on the floor. Slide right out while she was holding him on her hip. Shortly following this incident, I believe my sister:

1. Lost her mind.

2. Called the hospital muttering something about the "return process" and needing a receipt.

3. Wondered out loud how come Parenting magazine never mentioned this part of being a mommy, and then where the hell her husband was at times like these.

4. Gave up her belief that having a baby might require more than having a closet full of cute clothes to dress him, make him cute, and coo at.

5. Invested stock in Purell.

6. Put the nanny agency on speed dial.

Yeah, I know. Gross. In fact, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth. But yum, it tasted like gummy bears.

Hmmmm.....that looks like mashed carrorts to me. Looks like we found the culprit.

Jewish in Spirit

This is my friend Nona.

Nona is an amazing mother of four, including to twin 4-year-olds (holy handful!), an incredibly intelligent and strong female, hugely successful in her professional field, and one of the most incredible and supportive friends I have. In fact, the last few months of my sanity are owed to her, our Friday Night Girl's Night, and our mutual love for sushi and Starbucks.

In addition to all her amazing qualities, Nona is Jewish. Nona has hosted the last two Jewish holidays at her house - last week it was Rosh Hashanah, and tonight it was Yom Kippur. And she invited me to both at her house. I know it's weird to write this, but I frankly don't know a lot of Jewish people (having been raised, educated and surrounded by mostly Catholics for much of my life, despite my own lack of association with the religion at this point), so in turn, I have very little experience with or knowledge of the Jewish faith.

So when I got to her house, I had my first experience with matzo ball soup, potato pancakes, creamy jello stuff, Jewish bread, sour green tomatoes, and this noodle thing that I learned to pronounce, but won't even try to spell. All of it was so very deelish, but it took my body three days to recover. Tonight for Yom Kippur, we had fresh bagels and lox, pretzels, fruit, and tuna and egg salad. Again, deelish. But the best part? She gave me a 6-pound bag of Gummy Bears!!!!!

SIX POUNDS, PEOPLE.

By my calculations, that's at least three days worth of breakfast, lunch and dinner. But getting back to my point -

So let me get this straight: I not only get to eat but am encouraged to binge on high carb foods, get schooled on the basics of Jewish faith (which I know embarressingly nothing about, but frankly, I know very little about the religion I was actually raised by - a funny little quirk that my family finds both ignorant and endearing), AND get a 6-pound bag of gummy bears as a parting gift? Heck, I've been Catholic for 31 years and all I got was a lot of guilt for having pre-marital sex and a stifling fear of Hell for silently cursing out my parents. Well, that and my First Communion, which came with a party and a nice chunk of money. And let's not forget forced confession during Lent, which got me out of classes during high school.

But still - bagels and gummy bears? No contest.

Nona jokes that I can be an honorary Jewish person, and go to High Holiday services with her. And frankly, my spiritual beliefs fall more in line with the Jewish faith than the Catholic faith, so she thinks I have one foot in the door already. So bring on the kugal and lox - I'm might be going to temple!

Shalom!

You Never Forget How To Ride a Bike

So today I finally sucked down the fear and got my butt on my bike. No excuses today - the weather was stellar and the company was willing to go at my slow pace (thanks Larry!). So here I go!!

Looking down at Sheridan Road, the stretch which I once road over and over and over for IM Arizona. I remember bitching about how sick I was of riding the same path so many times. Today, I could have kissed the ground.

My partner in crime - although he did scold me for trying to take pictures while riding a bike. I guess maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do when you get back on a bike after a six-month back rehab. Oh well.

Yeah, so I'm a little happy. This was taken on the side road going back home. What you can't see is my windedness and burning quads, compliments of the six-month lay-off. By the way, you may have noticed that I am sans helmet - I most certainly do not advocate this, but it was left at my sister's house from the last move, and I was too lazy to ride by and get it today. But alas, I will have it for the next ride!

And Larry again. What a good sport!

So after all of that, I manage to get back home, ice my back, suck down some Ibuprofen (to be safe) and do some stretches before meeting with my real estate agent about the offer I just put in on a house (that will definitely be the next post!)

So as the day winds down, I'll leave you all with this:

GO BEARS!

Blast from the Past

I was looking through some photos today as a favor for a friend, and I came across this picture taken just steps before the finish line at the Chicago Marathon 2005. I am using it to commemorate my second run of my comeback this morning (three miles - got to start somewhere!), but I thought it was great because the look on my face says it all. Although this was my second running of this race (which, btw, is the best marathon to run, EVER, in my opinion), I really struggled this time out, as I started having really severe IT band problems around mile nine. MILE 9. That made for a long race. Little did I know that those problems were an early sign of the back-breaking I would later sustain during IM training.

The best part of this photo is the look on my face while everyone else around me is like, "Look at me - I'm finishing the marathon! Yay!" I was like, "I am going to choke a bitch." Although who was bitch I never did find out. Maybe me. But whatever. I was HURTING.

But guess when I didn't hurt? TODAY!!!!!!!

So here's to some more runs/bikes/swims on a health(ier) back.

Big Ass Slap On The Back

Stepping away from my hate of all things poop related, I must take a moment to give a HUGE HUGE Congrats to Larry, who has a ridiculously good 1/2 iron race this past weekend.

First off, he placed second in his age group and 20th overall. WTF? Seriously, though. He did. The only thing I ever placed second in was a donut eating contest with my sister and she out-ate me by a glazed. Bitch.

Second, the morning weather at the start was something stupid, like 38 degrees. Again - WTF? The only thing that should be done in that type of weather involves hot chocolate, a fire, and some sex-making. All indoors, of course.

Third, not only did he not even want to go to the race to begin with, but he actually overslept and woke up only to my 6:10AM good luck phone call. The race was 30 minutes away from his hotel and started at 7. You do the math. He called me back at 6:30 wondering if he should even try to make it - betcha he's glad he did.

Fourth, and most importantly, Larry completed this race without the stellar aide of his unwavering race sherpa (read: me) who, I may add, had never missed a race in the last three/four years. You bet my ass is out there, sunburning, and luggin' his bags around, taking pictures, shreeching his name so loud that he turns to nearby racers and asks, "Whose that Larry guy? He must be so embarrassed," dragging him back to the car post-race and stealing his post-race cookies while he sleeps in the car on the way home. Hey, it's a small fee to pay for my services. But alas, this weekend my schedule did not allow, so onward he went alone.

Larry is training for his third Ironman, and with each one he is getting super strong. A little part of him wants to see if he can ultimately qualify for Hawaii, and I fully believe that he can. I am very proud of my little triathlon pal and best friend. He effing rocks.

An Open Letter

To All Those Who Work In Shared Offices (especially mine):

Look, I understand that shared space can be a bummer. People coming in, using your stuff, sitting at your computer, getting their ear gunk on your phone, what have you. But it really chaps my hide when I go into the joint bathroom, and not only are four of the five toilets out of order (and no one calls for assistance) but the one working pot has doo-doo paper in it.

Really, is that hard to flush, and glance over your shoulder as you exit the stall to make sure the remnants of your turd have gone the way of the sewer? I think not. Common courtesy, people.

Frankly, if you must know, I am a believer in doing the business at home in the morning before you leave. How hard is it to take a few extra minutes to wrangle a poop out before heading to office? I myself am a once-a-day kinda gal, but I know many of you out there tend to visit the can several times daily for a colon blow, as it is inevitable, especially those in training and consuming massive amounts of food. I can give you a pass on that. But I can only hope that you are in-and-out, and leave a clean bowl for the subsequent visitors.

Now, you may argue that you don't want to waste water by too many flushes, and I can get that. I am all about saving the earth, one flush at a time. But the reality is that I'm going to have flush it myself before I go anyways, because god help me I'm not doing my business on top of someones leftovers.

I hope I am not sounding like a stick in the mud (pun intended? perhaps...) but frankly, this grosses my shit out. And here's one last thought: If you do need to spend an inordinate amount of time on the shitter, can you please try to flush as you go? Cause what's even more nasty that floaters and doo-doo paper is the stench that hangs in the air in a closed stall because you've been in there too long with your turds just sitting in the water.

Too much to ask?

I think not.

Let's use our heads,
Megan

Wow This Sucks

Just read this - was out of town for IM Madison (pics below) and am just catching up to the news. So, so sad.

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/football/nfl/09/10/bc.fbn.bills.everetthur.ap/index.html?cnn=yes

IM Madison

After my initial visit two years ago to watch Larry complete his first IM at Madison (and he's now on his third with Florida this Novemeber! Time flies!), I returned this weekend to hang with friends and cheer on some fellow bloggers. The weekend started with lunch with The Big Cheese and The Clyde, which proved to me a side-splitting hour or pizza eating and personal jabs. Funny dudes - I recommended meeting them.

We arrived on Saturday, and after a quick shower and dinner, The Big Cheese, I, and the Clyde met up with Cindy Joe and Moonpie for drinks.

Oh, but the fun was just beginning at this point. We then proceeded to another bar, a German bar where the waitress wore these funny little German outfits. Is that politically correct? Well, they did, and I am only sad I didn't have my druthers about me to take a picture of that. The group (minus me, I was designated driver!) ordered this huge ass mug that they took turns drinking out of. It was the equivalent of about a million beers, and they finished the whole thing, so needless to say, the evening ended up being very interesting....

This is secretly my favorite picture...Where did Cindy Jo go?

Then off to the race! Due to the debauchery of the night before, we woke up too late to see the swim (which, by the way, if my FAVORITE part of the whole day - damn) but we made it to Verona, where we saw most of the Race Athlete team, including Wil - way to go!

The boys did their part cheering on unsuspecting competitors, cheering only for people with pink bikes/apparel, arm/head sweatbands, or any neon colored shirt. The initially tried cheering for everyone, but as the voices gave way, their cheers got more narrowed.

Oh, and the Clyde brought his cow bell. Needless to say, we attracted some minor attention on the road.

And the day is rounded off by a picture in from of the capital building. We saw most of the pros come in, but has to take off back to Chicago before we saw anyone else. As I write this, I am watching the live feed on IronmanLive to watch everyone file in.

I have a ton of thoughts about IM right now, including my own future and IM Arizona, which looms on the horizon. I am going to save that for the next post, because this one is for the weekend, the finishers and the race itself. Congrats to all who did it today!!!

The Tour Continues...

You know, I have lived in Chicago my whole life and honestly, I love this town. I have never lived anywhere else, and each day I have to go downtown, or I drive along Lake Shore Drive, I always pause in my mind to remind myself how lucky I am to live here.

I become even more appreciative when I get to show a new guy around town. While I don't love the touristy things like Navy Pier, I do love to walk around the Loop (where I work) during the work week because it feels so real, so alive, so moving. I know that is super cheesy, but I don't care. I love being in the middle of it, even if I have to go to the office.

Today, I was downtown, and took some time out of the office to brag on my city via a tour of the Loop, which included a walk along the river, the Sears Tower and lunch at Lou Mitchell's. The lucky visitor? Why, it's the Big Cheese, who is still in town on work. Speaking of, shouldn't he have been working today as well?

Join us!

The Cheese standing on the State Street bridge between upper and lower downtown. The coolest thing is that Chicago River cuts directly across downtown, from west to east into Lake Michigan. During the summer, the bridges (about six all together) actually go up and down to let the sailboats through. Traffic stops completely, but no one really complains because it is really neat to see the monster bridges up in the air in the middle of a bustling city.

We paused walking west along the river so Cheese could take a peek over the edge. Apparently, there are no major bodies of water in the central Midwest, so flowing water was an unusual sight for him to behold.

We went to the top of the Sears Tower (after watching a brief video of how it was built). The day wasn't super clear, but nice enough that you could see in all different directions. On the clearest day, you can see Wisconsin, Indiana, and Michigan, which is cool. But not today. It was a little hazy.

The guide and her visitor.
I needed to take a break and rest against a wall. Being the guide can be tiresome!

The Cheese on his first El ride. Notice he is holding onto the railing. We had to take him for tetanus shots afterwards. He also got rubbed on by some man earlier on, but don't ask him about it. The trauma makes him cry. I simply refer to it as "The Initiation."

The Nothing Epidemic

I was checking up on some other blogs and noticed this thing about not having a ton to post. I guess, for the most part, I have that same affliction right now. However, even as I write that satement, I realize that is not entirely true. Things over here have been moving forward, some things pretty slow, some things pretty fast. I know that sounds cryptic, but I am trying to figure out how to post about some of the new stuff.

Suffice to say that life in the Chi has changed a bit for me, and my neatly packaged future has come undone. I am still trying to figure out what all these changes mean, what is going on, and how to acknowledge them out loud without jinxing myself. Of course, the arena of which I speak is dating, that pesty little topic that I have been trying to tackle over the last few weeks. You may not know this about me, but I tend to over analyze and freak out about every little aspect of a situation (okay, fine, maybe it's not such a big secret) but for some reason, with the current situation, I feel almost inhibited by the blog, my little diary of life through which I used to feel safe to vomit just about any thought that ran through my overworked brain.

Maybe I am selectively choosing my words this time because really, I am not overthinking this thing, but rather just letting it be, just accepting things as they come. I am freakishly calm about the new development, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, and as if it was life as it always was. Just different. Does that even make sense? Or maybe because it just makes sense, so there is no need to hash it out. I don't know. This is SO not me.

I am also hesitant because, for the most part, the people about whom I talk on this blog don't usually read this stuff. Well, my family and Larry (who is like my family), but they know they are always subject to my thought-onslaught, be it on the blog or in real life (lucky them). But now it is different, and I want to respect the privacy and life of the new "development."

So I guess when the time is right, and things are as clear as can be, more details will come. For now, I am happy. And calm. And accepting. And I have nothing else to report.

Guess Who Went Running?!?!?!

It's me!!!!!!!

Don't let the muscles intimidate you.

I came up to Michigan with the intention of riding my bike for the first time in 6 months, but then there was this bike rack fiasco, complete with some curse words, some kicking of the car, and a final spitting on unsuspecting passerbys to bring that plan to a screeching halt. Oh well, I packed my running clothes of off we went!

So this is about my tenth vacation this summer (not really, but it is starting to feel like that - more than my entire life combined - like making up for lost time). While everyone else was out riding on Saturday, I spent the day down by the lake.

This one's for Momo - That gaping wound on my toe is one of several horrendous blisters I obtained at the Cubs game. They look like gunshot wounds, especially the ones on the hidden foot. Thanks Kyle!

Then after like 20 hours in the sun I decided to do something productive and the run, which had been looming out there all day, was upon me. So I laced up the shoes,

Grabbed the IPod, and took off. All three miles of blazing glory. The back held up pretty good, though this morning was a tad tight. Oh, and by the way, here's a little note to the jag-offs in the blue convertible:

Dear Jag-offs,

How was your ride, four little men in the blue convertible? Tell me, does it make you feel good to be hauling 60 miles/hour down a 25 mile/hour road, and screaming at the top of your lungs at an unsuspecting runner with her iPod on? See here's the thing: That whole polo-shirt-with-the-collar-up-and-flashing-the-rock-and-roll-finger-sign-cruising-local-spots-in vacation-places-with-your-frat-boys hanging-out the-back-pretending-like-your-20-but your-hairline-clearly-indicates-your 45-thing ya got going on is so over. Scream at me all you want, but in real life, we hot runner chicks will NEVER acknowledge your passing calls for blow jobs, run after your car, jump in the back seat, wonder how life ever existed without you, call you "Daddy" and let you tell us how great you are, while you pound shots of tequila and hi-five your frat boys behind our backs. So go drink your beers, act a fool, chase some tail, grab an ass or two, then go home, pass out and wake up surrounded by hookers and blow and wonder where all your "brah's" went. Cause in the light of day, no one gives a shit about what college you went to, who your dad is, and where else you vacation. You have nothing to offer us runner chicks, so stop fucking yelling as you plow by.

By the way, a blue convertible with four dudes just hanging around? Gay.

Love, Megan

So anyway, the vacation went pretty well. We ended up coming home a bit early to even more beautiful weather here in the Chi. Hope everyone's Labor day weekend is great!