Jumping off the Precipice

I love heights, but I have a fear of falling. That's why you'll always find me on the observation towers of iconic buildings, in a hot air balloon, roof top restaurants and even the window seat on an airplane; you'll never find me actually jump out of one, or base jumping, or cliff diving.

There's this feeling you get when you're high up, or looking at stars or multitudes of lanterns--the feeling of endless possibilities. Thousands of people down below you, each with their own story. Hundreds of places within one glance, each emanating countless opportunities. Each star represents a hundred wishes and each lantern has a story. There's nothing so awe-inspiring than when you're in this one spot standing still among boundless prospects--

--and nothing so terrifying.

In my head I keep telling myself I'm on the precipice of change. Have you ever been at that point where you are overcome by a sense of destabilization? Something is about to change, and it will throw me off balance. I have no idea what it could be, or even more so, where it'll leave me and that's what scares me.

When I last visited Chicago, my friends took me to the Sears Tower where I was insistent on going to the Sky Ledge. I had no qualms about a sheet of glass being the only thing between my body and the ground. I felt secure and at ease looking at the city beneath me. I was in a glass box, safe from falling, and safe from not knowing where I'd land. When my friends questioned the possibility of plummeting, I smirked and said "Well, at least it would be a good story."

So much in my life thus far has been decided based on knowing the outcome - I chose the high school my friends were going to instead of following my heart to the theatre magnet. I chose the cheaper college closest to my boyfriend at the time, and where more of my friends were going, instead of aiming for a writing career at Loyola Chicago. I chose a career in Tourism over a degree in Public Relations because it was what I knew. I went to work for Disney because my whole life was there, so why should my career be any different? I stayed at home because the amount of possible outcomes elsewhere frightened me.

I never jumped. I was always content to keep my view, in my little glass box, watching others continue on, take risks and live to tell amazing stories.

What's fascinating about being on a precipice is that if you don't jump, if you don't embrace it, someone or something is surely going to push you. The choice becomes clear - when do you start taking your life into your own hands, taking risks and living outside that comfort zone?

I'd like to say I have a plan. I can't go to the grocery store without a plan, so I'd like to say I have one. But search this blog and you'll find me talking about moving to Chicago, or studying for the LSAT (both also comfort choices as I know people in Chicago and greatly enjoy LSAT theory). I have plans, I just spend too much time planning, I never act on them.

I don't know what's coming. I don't know if I'm going to jump or be pushed. But I'd like to say that one day I'll make the leap. One day I'll take a chance and leave the familiar. I sincerely hope that day is soon.

I'll close with my inner church girl reciting her favorite phrase: "Let go, and let God." You don't have to be religious to get the meaning - let go, give up control, let yourself drift through the sea, flurry in the wind. Trust. Don't be afraid.

Finishing was an Added Bonus - My First 10K

Me with Katlyn after
Princess 5K

When my good friend and RunDisney partner Katlyn told me to register for the Star Wars Dark Side 10K, I thought she was insane. I was lucky enough to make it through the few 5K races I've done, let alone double that. But, ever my cheerleader, she convinced me to do it and I registered and began writing up my training plan.

That was in the last quarter of last year, and in typical fashion, I chose to wait until the weather cooled down to start my training. But we had a strange year, with Christmas in the 80s and cooler weather didn't hit until January--then some health issues came up, work became more tiring, and before you knew it, the Princess 5K was here in February. I muddled my way through it, knowing it was more of a fun run to begin with.

Diana in the middle - Princess 5K

I then had two months to prepare for the 10K-- 2 months and a trip to DC that resulted in a multi-blistered foot. The universe was voting strongly against me--it seemed everyone was. I didn't mention the upcoming 10K often, but when I did I was met with skeptical glances and doubt. I was determined to prove everyone wrong, and mad at myself that I let the world get me down enough to not complete training for the race. Defiantly, I bought a shirt for the race that said "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

Race weekend came, and packet pick up day I walked around with Katlyn and Diana (RunDisney buddy number 2!) making small comments about not finishing. I had never done 6.2 miles in one go, and for the first time to be during a race that held certain pacing requirements, I was certain I wouldn't make it. I resigned myself to believe that starting meant more than anything, and having registered for the Wine and Dine 10K in November, I knew not finishing would drive me even harder to succeed for my second 10K.

Katlyn and Me with Jabba

Then, the night before the race I found myself up all night with food poisoning. I didn't get any sleep. My stomach was killing me and I was certain that would be my out - I would start and they would find me sick on the side of the road somewhere.

When the alarms went off, Katlyn and I got up, donned our race gear, and made our way to the shuttle bus. We took pictures with Jabba the Hut and hydrated before getting in our corrals. We were in the corrals for a good hour. On our way, Katlyn pointed out a shirt to me that said Finishing Dead Last > Not Finishing > Not Starting. I looked around in the corral and saw runners of all types of sizes and varieties. There was another woman close by that looked about my size and I heard her mention to her friends that it's her first 10K as well.

Corral Photo - We look tired!

We slowly moved forward as the race started in the upper corrals. I thought about the course and how much I wanted to make it to mile 4 - the last mile inside the theme parks. Mile 1- a boring path along a dark gravel road - would go quickly, and walking through the theme parks is a different mind game. I would be proud of myself if I got to mile 4. The fireworks were set, and off we went! It was an exhilarating first few minutes, and as I felt my shin splints start, I moved to the right side so I could slow down without getting in anyone's way--that was my huge mistake.

The first part of the race was slightly inclined and curved, and being on the right side made my foot nearly sideways. My shin splints at that point felt as though my legs burst into flames and I nearly had to hobble along the side. My first instinct: "Where are the medical bikes? I want OUT!". I didn't see any, so I continued to hobble along, practically walking right-together-left-together. I was embarrassed and ashamed. Who gets out on the first mile? But Katlyn had told me to not stop, to keep going, one foot in front of the other, and so I did. I made it to the first character meet and greet - R2D2 - and the attendants said he had about a 20 minute wait. I NEVER wait for characters during races, as I can't afford it with the pacing requirements, but my legs hurt so much, it was a great guise to stop. Once I stopped walking, my legs nearly buckled from the pain, and I almost fell over. I get shin splints often - trained or not trained - but these had to be the worst.

As I waited in line, the pain started to ease, and I thought I might be able to get a little further. I made it to the first mile marker, I was in Epcot. As I walked through the park, I took my time and stopped when I saw other people taking pictures and offered to be their photographer. Dammit, if I wasn't going to make my goal, I was going to be friendly and help other people.

Perfect shirt for this race. 

Once I got through Epcot, the shin splints started to cease. I was able to pick up my pace, but I had no idea how much time I had lost. In my head, I went back to my old goal - make it to mile 4. Mile 4 would mean going further than I had in any other race. It would mean not giving up until they told me I had to. Mile 4 was something I could live with. And gosh darnit, I made it to mile 4! I can't begin to describe that relief, the know that anything after that was an added bonus. But then I looked down at my shirt "I find your lack of faith disturbing" and I thought of all the people whose faces said "you can't do this" and I thought of Katlyn and Diana telling me I could. Then the person with the "Finishing Dead Last > Not Finishing > Not Starting" shirt passed me. Suddenly, I had to finish. It was essential.

Between Mile 4 and Mile 5 I saw the woman who was in my corral who looked like me. She looked like she was struggling as well. I caught up to her and told her "I started with you, we're doing so well! We've got this!" and she smiled and agreed "We got this!". That was my last added boost of adrenaline. I'm not sure how I got through those last 2 miles--all roads and 2 bus pickups ready to clear the course at a moment's notice--but seeing the finish line was one of those rare happy moments when you're surrounded by people, but at the same time you're in your own happy place.

That clearly didn't come across on camera.

My Face: "I hate everyone."

And so I survived. I conquered. I finished. And what was in my mind an added bonus, truly became everything. And the smile in my finisher photo, as I lift my medal to be sure my shirt was not blocked, is the result of realizing I proved everyone wrong, and that I would do it even better come November.

Best Laid Plans...

I had a plan this week.

I knew what I was going to make for dinner each night. I knew what exercises I was doing in the mornings or afternoons. I was committed. Day 0 (food prep day) was a phenomenal success with the most delicious sweet potato, cauliflower and chicken dish. I had a lunchbox for work and new containers for my healthy snacks. Day 1 continued the trend, with sit ups being the small start to my workout routine. Work had trail mix (without chocolate!) and fruit and almonds. Even said no to delicious maple cookies (from Canada!). It was all working out.

On the morning of Day 2 I woke up as planned, bright and early. I dragged myself out of bed and got my running gear on. I go to the treadmill and press the on button.... and nothing happens. It's broken, and my whole plan throws itself out the window. I think about going outside to walk, but it's too dark out, and I don't even have my armband for my phone yet. I resign my morning to looking on Amazon for a band that can be delivered same day and a pair of wireless headphones.

I pack my snack bag for the day and head in to work. A little more than halfway through my day, I go to grab my snacks and the bag is missing. It's no where to be found. We tracked it up to the office, and after that, nothing. It's the mystery in the office, but it's gone. An angel of a co-worker gives me a clementine, and I continue my day. I get home and it's once again, too dark to run outside, but I resign to doing more sit ups and making the dinner I planned - sweet potato rice with butternut squash, goat cheese and pomegranate. Another delicious meal, and the only thing that went right that day.

My dad was able to pull a miracle and fixed the treadmill, and I had a couple days where I was able to get on it, and then my ankle started hurting. I got about half my walk in before I switched to more sit ups and free weights. I decided to take a break the next day, because my body clearly wasn't liking me this week.



For the first time when starting a new workout/eating regimen the food was easier than the working out. This week was hard, and not everything I wanted to do was accomplished, but looking back at it now, I choose to take comfort in the things that did work - the recipes I chose to make and the few workouts I did get in. With this knowledge, I'll switch it up a little this week.

I'm doing the Princess 5K next Friday with my cousin and two friends who did it last year. It will be my cousin's first time. This was the run that made me want to be better at running, and I want to share that joy and fun with my cousin. I'm really hoping this week goes better than last. I have faith in myself, and I really hope there are others out there who believe in me. I've tried not to share my journey so much this trip around, because I see so much disappointment when I fail.

There are so many I want to prove wrong, so many I want to be strong for, and still so many hurdles to stumble my way over. And so starts another week, with hopefully more flexibility and willingness to roll with the punches bound to hit me.

Remembering Alan Rickman

I never wanted to write this.

I thought that if Alan Rickman ever passed (as he was immortal in my eyes), it would be when I had children of my own. They would be confused as I slowly turned despondent while reading the news of the day on some hologram (it would be so far into the future), and then again when I started crying during that year's Oscars In Memoriam. I couldn't imagine he would leave us so soon.

Today at work, when one of the girls suddenly gasped and said "Snape died," I quite possibly screamed in horror. As she told the story of a former co-worker texting her the news, I was certain it was false. I grabbed my phone to see the news for myself, but once glance told me everything I needed to know - before unlocking my screen, I saw dozens of texts, Facebook chats, calls - all from different groups of friends, and all before 9 in the morning - it had to be true.

As I scrolled through Facebook, I saw countless tributes to Professor Snape, which honestly kept me from crying--now, I love Harry Potter arguably more than the next person, but Alan Rickman was so much more than one character.

I first declared my love for Alan Rickman at the age of 3. My sister, Lauren and I watched Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves more than any Disney movie. She not-so-secretly harbored a love for Kevin Costner, and not wanting to like the same guy, in fact, choosing to like the opposite, I was smitten with the Sheriff of Nottingham, as played by Alan Rickman, of course. Years later, we would joke that I had the better taste. We both grew up loving him.

How easy it was to love him in Sense and Sensibility! To so many he is Professor Snape, but to me, he will forever be Colonel Brandon, lost in his endless devotion to Marianne Dashwood. Colonel Brandon, who fell in love during a song.
Colonel Brandon, who showed his obvious affection, but waited out of respect for Marianne's wishes. Colonel Brandon, who carried her through the rain, who only hours later rode through the storm and night to bring her mother to see her ailing child. Alan Rickman's Colonel Brandon, who truly ruined all men for me.

To others, his role as Professor Snape made them love him. To me, I loved Professor Snape, because of him. A huge Potter-head, I read books 1-4 countless times, never once liking Snape. Once the movies came out, it was impossible to hate him. Alan Rickman played him in such a way, you just had to know there was good in him somewhere. Only after that first movie did I start looking into the character more. Words and phrases and subtext can only go so far; Alan Rickman brought JK Rowling's Snape to life.

He acted from the heart and shared his craft with all of us privileged to exist on earth at the same time. So many characters he brought to life. He was always more than just lines or stage directions.


But aside from his wonderful acting, Alan Rickman was a good guy. There were reports of him bringing children of friends to the set of the Harry Potter movies, reports of how he treated his fans and friends alike. I was lucky enough to be an example of this when my sister wrote to him, telling him how I'd loved him since I was three. He mailed me a personalized Playbill of the play, Seminar, which he was staring in. When I posted the story on the blog, an Alan Rickman message board picked up the story and gushed over his kindness. He was a man everyone loved.

I won't be with my children when they play the In Memoriam segment at the Oscars featuring my favorite person, my first crush, the arguable love of my life. But I can guarantee that when I show them his movies, when I tell them the stories, and when I tell them just how much I love him, they'll ask "After all this time?" and I'll respond, knowingly, faithfully, "Always."

Everybody has a Laughing Place

On any given day there's a 40% chance you'll find me at the Starbucks porch in Disney Springs. I'll be the one curled in the corner by the fireplace (that isn't actually hot), reading a book and sipping coffee. There's a fair chance you'll see me take out a phone and snap a picture that looks very similar the one in this post.


I've posted a near identical photo on Instagram at least once a month. This is my happy place, or, if we're sticking to the original theme of this blog, my laughing place.

I started visiting the waterfront area of Downtown Disney after one evening when I found myself having a very serious and difficult conversation with a friend--one that I never thought I'd have the courage to have. Writing words is one thing, but talking in person, looking into someone's eyes, not being able to plan each paragraph and argument--I'm afraid to admit I'm still no good at difficult conversations.

I visited the site of this conversation at times because it reminded me of my own inner strength... and then I started to notice more about the area. The people walking around were all so different - families, couples, friends, individuals like myself - and it seemed to be a testament to humanity just watching people interact, watching them with their purchases. I suppose you can watch this anywhere that draws large crowds, but somehow being at Disney there was so much more - you could almost guarantee that everyone there was a Disney fan - and there was beauty in knowing that through all these different people, there was one thread that tied everyone together.

So I found my place. When Starbucks opened their porch that looks over the waterfront with semi-secluded seating, I knew I was home. I could sit for hours reading in this atmosphere (and often do). And when I look out, past my book, past the fireplace, past the people and out on the waterfront, I feel an overwhelming sense of calm. Time stops and it's impossible to feel anything but happy. I wish time would stop forever and freeze in that moment, so I take a picture--every time--in hopes that one will eventually capture the perfect emotion of it all.

Here We Go Again, Happy 2016

Welcome back friends.

I've received questions more than a couple times during this holiday season if I would be writing a new blog anytime soon. Honestly, I hadn't realized so many keep in contact through this (especially since my last update was nearly two years ago). But, as I find myself wanting to write more, and now have a computer which makes it easier to do so, I suppose here I am again to update you on my musings and ramblings. I cannot say if this will bring you closer or push you further away; we'll find out together.

Here we are now, in 2016. Last night was the first New Year's Eve in over a decade where I was not in the company of friends, and I was decidedly depressed about it--what a fitting end to a year where I found more than one friend slip by the wayside.

For those of you who did read this blog in the past, perhaps you'll remember my posts about my friends being all around the world, and struggling with the idea of staying in the same place while everyone else seems to move on. Please don't misunderstand, Orlando was, and is the right place to be when starting a career in hospitality. It was the right place for me at such a formative part of my career--but seeing everyone else in their right place--which was so far away from mine--made me question most of my decisions. Facebook is truly a modern form of torture.

This year was a new experience--one of losing friends not through physical distance, rather through growing apart. Different paths in careers or education, different interests, new relationships--at one point it felt like a constant downward spiral with only my career keeping me afloat.

Family is really the one thing you can always count on. In every way, spending New Year's Eve with my family instead of my friends was highly significant of my year.

That's the baggage. That was 2015. But the beautiful thing about a New Year is a fresh start. With 365 days left (because we get an extra day this year) there is so much potential for change. Each January 1st we're presented with the amazing gift of time, a whole year in front of us.

In addition to some trips and visits I have lined up for the first half of the year, I have a small bucket list:

1. Read every book I got for Christmas by May (there were quite a few, including a very lengthy biography on Alexander Hamilton)
2. Run my first 10K (ok, this was technically already planned, but as it looms closer, I feel like it needs to be on a list for me to actually believe it's going to happen... seriously, may the force be with me)
3. Embrace and conquer my fear of natural water - that means springs, kayaks, paddle boards and canoes - the gators know I cheer for them, don't they?
4. Call a friend at least once a week - texting, Facebook, email don't begin to compare to hearing someone's voice. Plus, you never know when a call can come at exactly the perfect time.
5. Speed-date. From the stories a friend tells me, it sounds like great hospitality practice anyways-- or, if nothing else, material for future blog posts.
6. Discover my true autonomous self. I've discovered a love for movies and theme parks on my own, but I still can't work up the courage to eat or drink on my own in public. I can travel on my own, so long as the destination has someone waiting. People who need people may be the luckiest people in the world, but I want to work more on not depending on others.

Of course there's weight loss. Of course there's working out more, eating better, being healthy. You can expect a few blogs on that, because that's the trend, and trying to do a 10K can't be done without the above. But I am so much more of a writer that I don't want to be another girl writing about losing weight. Just like I am more than my appearance, my writing and my life is about more than weight loss.

So welcome back, to those of you still reading. And welcome to those who are new--some of whom haven't gotten the chance to know me through my writing. Fair warning, I'm wordy. I ramble. Sometimes I write nonsensically. But if you stick around, you might learn a bit more about me, and you might get a good story here and there.

And comment. This isn't a plea to go viral. This isn't me wanting to get numbers up. This is me wanting to keep the conversation going, to know who's listening and to listen back when given the chance.