One of the first things I learned when I started getting into the bigger,
more dangerous sports – like skiing, surfing, even quading – is never call last run. That is the universe’s greatest trick to jinxing yourself, and inevitably you will go down hard.

I always kinda thought this applied to other things too. And then this weekend I proved myself right.

At 24, the world of partying and drinking and bar hopping is oh so enticing. Especially when you have fabulous friends and a handsome boy. It’s hard to say “no” to rooftop bars and seaside restaurants where the bartenders comp your drinks. It’s hard to turn down a free drink in general.
But even so, much like skiing down the advance slopes in Park City, I could feel myself getting tired and sloppy. But I think, “What’s another run? I need to take advantage of all the wonderful that life’s presenting my way. I won’t be here forever. And it’s not like I’m doing Black Diamond runs.”

Still, despite all of my brain’s careful coaxing, my gut knew that I had to chill out a bit and go back to my happy/boring life of sleeping, running, working, praying/church, writing, and cleaning. I had to call “last run” on my partying in order to give myself a time limit.

So lo and behold when I wake up the next morning completely destroyed: My entire body from vital internal organs to the muscles in my legs felt as though I’d been in a fight. My head is throbbing and moody and unable to focus. My heart hurts – physically and metaphorically. And I realize calling “last run” was probably really stupid, but at least now, every inch of my body knows I’m done raging for a little bit.

So now, here I am, a little over 24 hours later, 13 of those hours were of me sleeping, and I can feel my sanity coming back.  I’ve forgotten how good it feels to chill out.

I guess that’s kind of the point, at least in your twenties when everything is so emotional and “important.” Even though I will continue to make these dumb mistakes, party too hard, forget to sleep and eat, spend all my money on clothes instead of food, and then spend my last remaining 20 bucks on pizza. I guess these are the things that determine who I am, and who I will grow up to me.

Then there are some mistakes I’ve made these last couple years (and these last couple weeks) that I know I won’t make again. Not after sitting in the mess I’ve made, trying to figure out how to fix it, and realizing there’s no real solution that I can create. Just time.

In the meantime, I plan on focusing on the things that motivate me – like Love Taza as there is nothing more in this universe that I want than a family like that. And to blog about it so beautifully?

<<Oh be still my heart at the mere thought of that possibility>>