My Bestie

This is a response to the Nobody’s Cuter Than You request by Big Mama. Without further ado, here’s how J.L.W. entered my life for good.

My family had recently uprooted our stable, homogenous Midwestern selves from Kansas City, Kansas to a much smaller Blythewood, South Carolina. In dire need of local friends, I joined the high school cross country team. I spent August, September, and October—the entire season—running mostly alone, hoping someday one of my teammates would materialize into a friend, a “replacement(s) not replacement(s)” for the friend(s) I’d left behind. After the state meet, I had the opportunity to run one more race in Charlotte, North Carolina with a select group of runners from the team. This was going to be fun, I’d hoped. I roomed with two girls, both a year younger than me. This having been the Friday after Thanksgiving, I was wired. Hi, my name is S and I love dessert. Hello, holidays. Bring on the apple pie, cranberries cupcakes, pumpkin spice cookies, etcetera ad nauseam—I will eat you all. J.L.W., my friend-to-be, humored herself with my antics. I’m not sure if she was laughing with or at me. I do remember we didn’t get much sleep that night. So desperate for a friend, it—the laughing and sleep—truthfully didn’t matter.

The trip ended, yet our friendship grew and grew and grew into the big, mighty awesome gift that it is today. There was the brilliant idea to consume a gallon of McAlister's beverages--lemonade for me, sweet tea for her--before a mile run at an invitational track meet. There were countless "locker room parties" on cold (and windy!) South Carolina days. And then there was college. J.L.W. “followed” me to Clemson University—Go Tigers!—during my sophomore year where there were football games galore and a few too many late nights. We also managed plenty of early mornings camping out for football (or basketball) tickets. When ESPN’s College GameDay came to town, we were there at 5:00 am to begin cheering. And we kept on cheering until the conclusion of the 8:00 pm game… at midnight. There was also a camping trip we survived in the sub-freezing temperatures in the Blue Ridge Mountains. We concluded my junior year with a twenty-hour round trip drive to Cleveland, Ohio—for the weekend—where we insisted on listening to J.L.W.’s iPod in A to Z order. In the following year, we implemented a Tuesday night dinner club, where it was understood she would cook and I would consume.

 

Those four years had to come to an end, and when they did, I left for Peace Corps. We remained equally close, though we were limited to expensive, monthly phone calls. I returned to Northern Virginia while she had long settled in Columbia, SC. Having already mastered long distance friendship, we’ve maintained friendship just the same. We sometimes meet for incredible two-week adventures in the Pacific Northwest, other times we take unplanned long weekend trips to a random meeting places, like the most recent Asheville, North Carolina outing.

We have a big milestone ahead: J.L.W. is getting hitched, while I stand right beside her. Her second best friend, D.P.C, of oh so many years, but not as many years, recently proposed! I like him because he respects (and accepts?) my competitive personality. I’ll always be her first place friend; I’ve known her the longest. And I might love her the most.

Feeling Charitable

When it comes to donating to charities, I have an established protocol. I am very passionate about "my" charities, usually donating only to those. I am unlikely to donate to random organizations, though I do try to budget to support the occasional friend's passion (e.g., the Light the Night fundraiser K.D.S. raises money for each year). If the cause is near and dear to a friend's heart, I can easily find room in my own heart. I do, however, in both instances demand knowing where each penny of every dollar goes before I'll even consider writing a check. After Peace Corps, I'm particularly stern on this; the mismanagement of money is worse than you can believe. My last rule of thumb: I donate during summer, when donations are generally at their lowest.

Lately though, send me a brief on someone in need and I am in. All in. I’m feeling quite charitable lately.

(I hate to say it’s unlike me because I don’t necessarily think that’s true.) 

In addition to the spending I witnessed in Lesotho and through Team Mathias, I'm more inclined to donate to local (and/or small) organizations, where overhead spending does not play a huge role in costs. To my knowledge, Team Mathias funds have gone directly to help cover medical costs for Mathias and support childhood cancer research. I can buy in to that!

These are some animal, children, and illness-related "organizations" I might consider learning more about going forward. If it's not based in one of the above or Africa, my interest is quickly displaced.

• Chocolate Bar – This story of a six-year-old helping his friend battle a rare liver condition, Glycogen Storage Disease Type 1, through the publication of Chocolate Bar, appeared as a follow up to an earlier airing on NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams. I was almost brought to tears by the story. It's simple and heartwarming, and something this world could use a whole lot more of. The success of Chocolate Bar is rooted in the BIG idea of one six-year-old, and a bunch of people standing behind his idea and mission to cure a rare disease. Wow. 

BIG news: After years and years of waiting, I finally received my first free set of address labels! They came from a nonprofit I had previously been unfamiliar with. My parents receive thousands of these each year. Even during the "on-the-move" period, address labels magically found their way to the mailbox. I’ve always wondered how it happened. Though I'll continue to wonder, I'll do so less now that the magic has been bestowed upon me. After having Boyfriend check The Children's Inn charity rating and approving, I made a celebratory donation. 

• The Children's Inn at National Institutes of Health (NIH) – A "place like home" for sick children and their families to stay for free while receiving groundbreaking medical treatments at the NIH.

My new running habit led me to the untimely purchase of not one but two pairs of shoes. After more than a decade of running, I'm a firm believer in rotating shoes. This led me to my local running store for a fitting, where I decided on two pairs shoes. If I'm going to continue running this mileage, I'm not going to do so on shredded shoes. I purchased one of the two pairs at market price to pay my thanks.

In my hunt to find a new perfect fit, I was real picky. I wound up trying on at least nine pairs of shoes. In high school and college, I relied on a retired line of Asics. Those shoes became dead to the world when the new "minimalist" movement moved in. Sigh. For the marathon, I went with Mizuno Wave Riders, a line from the old track days. The Wave Riders underwent an unfavorable upgrade from 17 to 18 during the previous months. Wouldn't it be convenient the newer version mimics a model prior I haven't run in and rubs my outside big toe in an unfavorable way?

(How much didn't you want to know about my running shoe saga? All of the above, I'm sure.)

Enter eBay, to my quest to be a bargain shopper. As I was checking out with my Brooks PureFlows 3, I was asked to donate to the Blind Cat Rescue and Sanctuary.  

• Blind Cat Rescue & Sanctuary –  If there are blind cats in this world in need of rescuing, I'm here to be of assistance. Well, financial assistance. I don't actually like cats. Not even a little. But the idea of blind cats was the saddest thing my little mind could fathom on Sunday afternoon so, of course, I made a donation. And no, I didn't check to see if said organization is a real thing. Later, I found their website where the slogan Help Blind Cats See a Future resided. Hello puns, one of my favorite things. So if only five cents goes to help a blind cat, I'll find comfort in my good intention. Animals--including cats--and puns, I'm sold. 
• Note: This was my first eBay purchase and will likely be my last. I'm on a budget and I hardly made out well, when I take into account the price of my shoes after the donation and the time spent both researching running shoe steals and later blind cats. Oy.  

• Ellery's Life – Another child battling another rare disease--Primary Ciliary Dyskinesia (PCD). Ellery is managing PCD with music. Her story, told through her mother, is one of patience, perseverance, discovery, and reclaimed life. I'm willing support Ellery's dream and her efforts to raise money for PCD research and awareness in the process.

This has been (and hopefully will continue to be) a nice regrouping with my wannabe humanitarian ideals. 

A Weekend Recap: R.L.P. Visits

The title of this post is slightly misleading. This isn't a weekend recap at all. If I recapped my weekend, I'd bore you to tears. And chances are, my action packed recounts already do that. As the recaps go by, I realize more and more how little people might care about what my weekending entails. I get it. But I keep posting because this lingering blog here, without a true focus, needs words (and pictures!) to keep it alive.

Friday night, having forced myself to keep my calendar open the majority of weekends going forward, I was free when a friend made an unannounced visit to town. My friends and I met after work at Rocket Bar for a couple rounds of pool and cocktails.

(Is it just us in Washington, D.C. with the luxury of such flexible Fridays? I find it an unlikely chance in other cities that six friends are free of work obligations at 4:00 pm at the end of the week. Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me we're spending tax dollars wisely.)

When hunger struck, we headed to Hill Country Barbeque for dinner. This has been on my DC Bucket List for awhile now... and I'm glad I finally made it there. The brisket was superb, for those of us in the market for a Friday night of over eating. I will definitely go back. The meat was even better than my favorite local barbeque establisment, Rocklands, though Rocklands still takes home the prize for their heavenly sides, the macaroni of which was served last night at S.D.G.'s Sunday Night Football party--delicious.

Photographic evidence of me being free for spontaneous fun on a Friday night.

Then it was time to catch Game 3 of the World Series. We migrated to Penn Quarter Sports Tavern for viewing. And the minute I sat my overstuffed stomach down, I knew my wild and crazy night on the town was going to be short lived. I made it through the fifth inning before catching Metro home. This had me in bed before midnight, a personal preference.

I woke up to good news: The Kansas City Royals pulled off their second win of the series, hooray. As goes with sports, they wound up blowing both games on Saturday and Sundays, leaving them a game back. Based on the Royals' performance in the Post Season, I still have a faith. If the Royals win, I'll celebrate as if they've been my team all along because I'm not certain to see the Atlanta Braves in a World Series, let alone win a World Series, anytime soon. I'm trying to remain as neutral a bandwagon fan can. I effortlessly find disappointment cheering for my actual team during multiple points in a season. I don't need 'bandwagon blues' added to my woes. Forget the realist in me, GOOO Royals!

Trying to keep the agenda free and my emotions in check... to winning.

What Came Out of My Kitchen

I'm going through a phase of exhaustion. I'm not here to point fingers at the marathon or anything, but I desperately need to get myself back in the kitchen on a regular basis. I'm just lacking motivation and creativity and care and everything else that might include cooking regular meals again to do so. When the wave of motivation does hit, I run with it full force. And though I'm not going to say today was one of those days--I wasn't totally motivated--I had enough to carry me through what I needed to finish. This started with going grocery shopping at Costco, Giant, Target, and Whole Foods before even stepping foot in my kitchen. Do away with me now. I may have found a place for myself in the kitchen, but I still hate grocery shopping with every part of my being. Approximately $300 later, I found myself whipping up a variety of things.

Mexican-Style Brown Rice Casserole. This has become somewhat of a staple in our home, after the recommendation of a coworker. I actually froze this dish for a later date in time. Because, again, exhaustion. Chef's Notes: I don't believe in the fat free or low fat this and that; I substitute those items with the full fat equivalent. I also make my own refried beans using the black beans I crockpot on a near weekly basis. Though canned refried beans are smooth and wonderful, I only enjoy them when my mom hides the sliminess that sends those bean sliding right out of the can. Nasty.

Pumpkin Butter. My mom introduced me to Oh She Glows during my wannabe vegan days. I've followed this blog for years now, and I've never been let down. That being said, the pumpkin butter might be the best thing I've made to date. I've added it to oatmeal. I've slathered apples in it. I've made Pumpkin Oat Squares with Candied Pecans (from Angela's blog as well). This goodness is what heaven must taste like. Chef's Notes: This recipe is rather time consuming when roasting the sugar pumpkin(s) is factored in. On the upside, I learned how to roast a sugar pumpkin... and I'm looking forward to trying a "from scratch" pumpkin pie here soon.

Apple Rutabaga Soup. Who doesn't like a million fall vegetables tossed in a pot with butter? Also, a recipe that uses one of the thousands of apples I picked that is not a dessert? This recipe was provided by another coworker. And I knew it'd be delicious after I learned the recipe came from The Inn at Little Washington. This restaurant is continually rated among the best "in" Washington, D.C. In being in quotes because it's quite a ways outside of the city. It's also quite a ways from my paycheck, if you're curious. Chef's Notes: I cut the cream in half. And next time I would consider further reducing the amount by another half (i.e., half of a cup instead of the suggested two cups).

Apple Pie. This pie is no product of my own; it's the most beautiful pie I've laid eyes on. I imagine much effort and patience behind this work of art, which has never been my cup of kitchen tea. Chef's Note: This pie was crafted entirely from scratch in our kitchen with apples picked by us, per my insistence; ya, we're crunchy. I have no idea what recipe was used and therefore cannot provide notes, regardless of my repeated requests (to Boyfriend). An equally tasty, though not nearly as pretty, pie can be found at mine (and Barack Obama's) favorite stop in Northern Virginia--Mom's Apple Pie, for those local to the area.

Vegetable Lasagna. Are you familiar with Cooks Illustrated? If not, it's time you are. Their vegetable lasagna is the best on the planet, despite the amount of work required to whip it up. Also, this recipe does away with ricotta in favor of cottage cheese. That alone makes me obsessed. (I absolutely hate ricotta and am addicted to cottage cheese.) Chef's Note: I mentioned this is a product that requires work, however, the rewards are endless. This lasagna served us twelve sizable meals--away with portion control. When the labor is divided across the number of meals, we have an equation that isn't terrible. This is a definite Sunday activity where I don't feel rushed to immediately follow up with the insane amount of dishes produced by this dish. (That part of the equation is not--I repeat: not--pretty.) By serving this on Sunday night, I've littered the rest of the week with leftover lunch and dinner.

Let's eat.

A Tough End to an A+ Weekend

Because my recent excursion to Chicago was based all around the marathon, it was very different from my usual go, go, go vacation. I'll need time before I can regurgitate the play-by-play, as it just wasn't what I'm used to. An ideal getaway involves eating and walking my way through a city, and while I got to do a fair bit of that, I relied a lot more on public transportation than I'm used to (i.e., to keep the legs fresh) and thought much more about what I ate than I do in even my daily life. I also opted not to do a ton of research before heading to out to avoid setting my self up for disappointment. Though I've been to Chicago, I know I missed much on this trip. You can rest those worries though, I was again able to eat plenty and enjoy much (in a not so efficient manner); the trip was organized day-by-day. But lest I sound depressed, this trip--for the marathon--was incredible; I had a stellar race with so much support to thank for being both there and there in spirit.

I intend to share my lessons learned from my first marathon in an upcoming post, for those interested. For me, the biggest "regret" is not running my first marathon locally. Washington, D.C. actually hosts one of the larger marathons and it would have been super nice to not have had the stress of travel added to the all-consuming marathon. But Chicago was so, so, so good to me with its perfect temperature, pancake flat course, and crowd support, I can hardly regret the outcome.

As someone who likes to travel, but also likes to forecast (i.e., control) my future, the return trip was one reason running the Marine Corps Marathon would have been more convenient. I built in plenty of time for things to go wrong heading to Chicago by choosing to arrive on Thursday, however, I thought nothing about what it might be like for things to go awry on the return trip when I was exhausted and sore.

At 1:30 pm CT on Columbus Day, I learned my 4:10 pm flight was cancelled. This was a curse I placed on myself after waking up to a gloomy Chicago and immediately wanting to teleport home. I had not slept more than two hours the night before thanks to the writhing pain throughout my body. Marathoners, is this par for the course? After arriving at O'Hare International Airport shortly after 2:00 pm, Boyfriend found Customer Service to discuss our situation. We'd been rebooked on a 9:08 am flight out on Tuesday, a WHOLE DAY LATER. I absolutely could not miss work on Tuesday, a rarity. I had already bailed on an important meeting Friday and felt terrible about the thought of missing another one. We'd had our fun. That's where my head was at. And oh yeah, I was exhausted and sore.

We were given standby tickets for a 3:10 pm flight. There was hope. After rushing through some fancy security line (e.g., no shoe removal, no liquid removal--I complain not), we found gate B11, where we saw we were two of many looking to standby. The flight left without us, obviously. Then we played this game of bouncing from Terminal B to C for flights to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport or Washington Dulles International Airport every hour following. And since my left knee disintegrated entirely throughout the course of 26.2 miles, this was super fun. At 6:30 pm we were on a delayed flight to Dulles, which is not nearly as convenient as Reagan, but more so than Baltimore Washington International Airport. With economy seat assignments, we boarded.

That's me on the "Cleared Standby" list on the top left, wahoo!

Then we sat on the runway. And sat and sat. And I'm being real dramatic because I had to go to the bathroom and in order to do that we had to be in the air at some 10,000 feet with the seat belt sign off. There were no announcements made as to why were were sitting, waiting, wishing. I was also exhausted (i.e., impatient) and sore. I don't think I've mentioned that. At 7:48 pm, we were suddenly taking off... on a rough flight. I don't think I would have noticed had I not stood almost the entire duration of the flight. I got up to relieve my bladder as soon as I was able. And I guess the crew started serving beverages simultaneously. My seat, being far up in the cabin, was blocked while all 38 rows were served. I did kindly asked to squeeze through to no avail.

In a normal situation, it's best to move while flying. Perhaps this is not the case the day following a marathon, then walking one inside the airport? My legs swelled so much they got stuck in my normally comfortably fitting boots. I was sitting on the floor of the plane trying to pull them off to relieve the pressure and I could not budge them. This was a terrifying scene, if you're curious.

Though our captain flew us home quickly, we landed at 10:14 pm ET having picked up an hour. And we were on our running way to the 10:35 bus shortly after. But if you've never flown to Dulles, it's likely you've never experienced the worst "people mover" ever. This contraption is from the dark ages and progresses slower than Grandma. I was prancing around as if I had superpowers to will the mover faster because, as mentioned, we had a bus to catch.

We caught the bus, thankfully. And then caught an Uber because Metro was being it's usual inconvenient, holiday self. I was in bed around 11:30 pm, which should be considered a win... when I reflect on how much worse it could have been.

Thank You So, So Much

By this time, due to the shared efforts of social media, my fan base, and myself--who understandably proud, did some of my own bragging--the world knows that I completed the Chicago Marathon on Sunday. This accomplishment would not have been possible without the support of so, so many.

Thank you to my parents for traveling to Chicago, Illinois to cheer me on at four separate miles--2, 13, 17, and 26--along the course, completing their own marathon of sorts. An additional thanks to them for all the meals they provided to fuel me before and after the race. Thank you to C.D.H. for riding a bus from Atlanta, Georgia to surprise me! I'm not one for surprises, but this one--oh man, it meant a lot. Further thanks to him for breaking down the marathon with me on at least three different occasions. And lest I forget my youngest brother, the fastest H as far as 5Ks are concerned; he sent me a wonderfully encouraging text the night before the longest race of my life. For him, I'm thankful.

To H.M.M. for being at mile 7, when her out of town family was in town, and screaming for the nine seconds I spent running past. Thanks for providing the burst I needed. To Boyfriend's parents for using the Runner Tracker feature to track me during the race--for caring because I cared. To J.L.W. for always thinking I can, for knowing I could, and for responding to my texts of agony with understanding. To R.D.S. for sending a timely card right before the race. And repeatedly asking about training throughout the course of the year. To A.J.S. and S.D.G. for dealing with an exhausted, moody friend and accepting "Sober S.M.H." into their lives. To K.A.B. for listening with intent as I spewed running jargon over multiple weekend stays. To K.S.D. for pulling me out of the apartment for timely calorie-dense meals when the stress of training turned me hermit-esque. To S.K.H. for the Instagram well wishes and for playing the role of "cousin" so well. To Sweet Neighbor for sending me a bazillion emojis to lighten the intensity of the experience. To K.F.A. for letting me know I was in the "speedster" coral, which was actually more terrifying than helpful. Thanks, K.F.A., thanks a whole bunch.

Before Boyfriend, a final thank you to M.E.K. for encouraging me to enter the Chicago Marathon Lottery and, after winning said lottery, later assuring me I could run 26.2 miles regardless of how impossible that sounded way back (in January) when I was barely running at all--during the marathon winter.

And last but not least, Boyfriend, thanks for doing all of the above on repeat. Since March. It should be noted, Boyfriend has zero interest for running, participating in sports (outside of downhill skiing, ugh), or the thrill of a good sweat. Yet he managed to manage me during several long months of marathon training, which rest assured was no easy feat.

Thank you all--and so, so many more--for caring so, so much about my race. There is no way I would have made it to the finish line without all of you; this much is true.

I'll continue to speak miles and paces and training until Boston because I QUALIFIED. Y'all will be around in April 2016, right?

Chicago Marathon, Goals

I am ready, ready, ready, ready, ready to run (Dixie Chicks, anyone? Running playlist, anyone?) the Chicago Marathon because I am so ready, ready, ready, ready, ready to stop over-thinking marathoning. The miles. The fuel. The distance. The sleep. The pace. The million things that could go wrong. The million things that can't possibly go wrong. I am o-v-e-r this. This final week of easy runs and monitoring every jag (or worse, cough) has turned me into a crazy person (i.e., crazier than I was previously). I'm crumbling under the self-induced pressure. On Sunday, I must rise... I have enjoyed training, much more so than I previously imagined possible. Let the marathon be a celebration of all the miles run to train for The Race.

That said, I have some goals.

Goal A: 3:32:XX – This time will ensure I qualify for the Boston Marathon, I think. Though I technically only need a 3:35:00 finish time to meet the women's Qualifying Standard for the 18-34 age group, fewer and fewer runners are "squeaking in" to Boston as the field increases in competitiveness. For example, the 2015 field is set, and those women in my age group who did not run at least 3:33:12 were left out of the mix. For the numbers geeks out there, this article answers the questions posed by those trying to qualify for Boston 2016. So with that, I present this Goal A finish time, in hopes of "guaranteeing" my entrance to the iconic Boston Marathon. With the hours of training and miles logged, this is a feasible A+ day.

I'm also have my competitive spirit on my side, which rarely gives up on me. I'm physically ready for Goal A, mentally... well, there are still 20 hours to go.

Goal B: 3:40:00 – This is the pace the majority of my long runs have averaged. All along I have said if I miss qualifying for Boston, I'm likely only to miss it by a couple of minutes (or even seconds, in the case presented above). I know I can run this pace and absorb the atmosphere. This pace will allow for lots of fun while crossing 'finish a marathon' off my Bucket List.

Goal C: Finish. Though I've set my sights higher and I'm thinking positive, positive, positive, tortoise or hare, I'm going to be proud of finishing.

At 7:30 am on Sunday, October 12, the gun will sound in Chicago and I will run. I've always appreciated running for the simplicity in lacing up and taking off.

Apples picked. Pumpkins patched.

This last weekend was the Washington, D.C. area''s first fall-like weekend. The mornings were crisp with an almost winter scent. As the days wore on and the sun to rose, the earth was heated to give us comfortable, warm afternoons. And with that, Boyfriend and I partook in the quintessential fall activity: apple picking. I have only picked apples two other times in my life, and the first time, I don’t actually remember picking a whole lot of apples from trees so much as purchasing pre-picked apples from barrels. Regardless, visiting apple orchards has recently become the thing I look forward to most about fall, more so than even football and pumpkin-spiced everything. With at least eight varieties to pick from, caramel apple rewards, and cider - heavenly cider - it's hard not to anticipate this outing. 

Is it gorgeous everywhere apples grow?

We’ve found our apple picking home at Hartland Orchard, in the not so distant Markham, Virginia, where the trees are already turning. And the drive there is littered with fall colors, which is simply delightful.

We couldn't leave without bringing home our pumpkin, from the conveniently attached patch. This year there wasn’t a bad pumpkin in sight, which made it tough to find a pumpkin with the character, necessary in the likely event our pumpkin is gutted for seeds and left uncarved; he needs to stand alone.

It’s actually fun to pluck the perfect apple from each tree (and a pumpkin from the patch). All the while dreaming of the delicious goods that will come. We brought home a bushel of apples, a gallon and a half of cider, and a pumpkin for seeding. The caramel apples didn't survive the trip out of the parking lot. We demolished them while an elderly man and his grandson pressed apples into our cider. Since this weekend, I’ve made a delicious apple fritter cake and a batch of applesauce. I've also consumed a good many apples smothered in almond butter.

An apple a day keeps the doctor at bay. 

Free Conundrum

A few weeks ago, Boyfriend and I cleaned out our kitchen. We took every single item off every single shelf, assessed our needs, and cleaned each counter and cupboard before placing items back in a more organized manner. The satisfaction of completing this task, even though it should have been done three months prior, is indescribable. While we buy within our means—and don’t get sucked into too many deals—we certainly end up with excess of some items (e.g., canned tomatoes, flour, Gatorade, etc.) that are not easily stored in a 700 square foot apartment. The biggest culprit is our Costco membership, though we've deemed the bulk shopping savings are worth it. Before The Cleanse we had 'mini pantries' scattered throughout the apartment; I could not survive that way for another second.

The second issue is my willingness to accept anything and everything I come across that is of the "free" variety. Free juice at the blood drive, I’ll take three. Free water bottle at the Toast to Tap event, a 40th Anniversary Celebration for the Safe Drinking Water Act, sure, why not!

(Those who know me, know I only use my liter-sized Nalgene ever. I also have have millions of other previously gifted water bottles stored in a lowly bottom cabinet.)

(Or I did before The Cleanse.)

And it’s not just free food and goodies I accept. At the Washington Nationals Blood Drive, we were given two tickets to a Nationals game. When that day came, I was exhausted, but I also knew it was likely my last chance to see the Nationals for the year. So despite those factors and a poor forecast to boot, I started walking to the game after work. Being the forecast was poor, the game was called minutes before the start and I was able to go home, eat a nice meal, and catch up on some zzz’s. The tickets were free, yet I couldn’t imagine letting them go to waste. I had to be there… and had to make sure I had fun… just because. Just because why? 

In early October, again, we had free tickets to the DC United/Sporting KC game. And I actually really wanted to go. My coworker gave me these tickets in July, and now that Pop's employer is no longer a sponsor, this was my only (free) opportunity to catch a game this season. After staying up way too late on Monday watching the Kansas City Chiefs and even later on Tuesday watching the Kansas City Royals, by the time Friday rolled around, I was beat. I was recently reassigned to a large effort at work, as opposed to my usual sitting around twiddling my thumbs. It’s shocking how much more exhausting work is when I'm "on." Further, it was colder than I had prepared for, with yet another chance of rain. Provided the exhaustion, dinner at Five Guys and an early evening seemed ideal. I ultimately ended up bailing on the game. And crashing in bed, with the television volume high, in case of any exciting action in the world of Post Season. It could have been an all-out celebration of Kansas City—Chiefs, Royals, and Sporting KC, however, DC United came away with the win, clinching their spot in the playoffs. And I (sadly?) can’t name a single United or Sporting KC player, so I think it’s safe to say, the world went on without my being there.

I’m getting better at saying no and avoiding free stuff, there were several accomplishments on that front. For example, the other night I avoided free cups, magnets, and shirts at a Light The Night fundraiser. We're talking b-a-b-y steps that feel like B-I-G steps. After all, I’m 27 with a decent job. I can afford juice, cookies, water bottles, hats, shirts, on-and-on; I can afford more than what I need.

Say no to free-ness. Just Say No. When I think of my uncluttered living space, it'll all be worth it.