"Take a Deep Breath and Walk Through the Doors, It's the Morning of Your Very First Day"

I know, I lose about 50 adult points for my T.Swift quoting there. Oh well. That line was stuck in my head all of yesterday, so it seemed to be the most fitting for my title.


Anyway.

So, yesterday, the adventure began once again, as it was my first day at my new job here in Minneapolis. That was probably the least nervous I had ever been for a "first day", probably because I knew most of what I was getting in to this time. Not to say I wasn't, but compared to a lot of other first days, this was nothing.

I will say this: I have a very good feeling about this place. I can't put my finger on exactly why, but I just do.

This week there will be all about just getting me in the swing of things at the store--working the sales floor, learning their computer system, figuring out the basic day to day of how they operate. I was able to jump right back in on the whole "selling someone shoes" game, just 15 short minutes in to day 1. (I did have to quickly learn about some new shoes that DRC didn't carry, and on others I thanked myself for reading catalogs during slow times up there.) We had someone call in yesterday, too, so the fact that the new girl already knew shoes and just needed help on the first few register moments was really appreciated, and they let me know that.
What was also a huge, "Hey, you've got this" boost was having a sales rep friend of mine that I knew from the DRC days be one of the first people through the door yesterday. As I stood there devolving in to a "This is all new, what do I do?" pile of derp, he reminded me of where I was coming from and what I did there, and encouraged the new GM to just let me jump right in. Plus, just having a familiar face around for the first hour was super, super helpful, even if it was just a coincidence that he happened to stop by the shop that day. (So, Joey--if you happen to stumble upon this--thanks!)

So, 2 more days there this week. Then, right after we're both off work tomorrow, Brandon and I will make part 1 of the journey back to TC for Bayshore. It has me a bit nervous because the sleep you get 2 nights before a race is supposed to be the most important, and it's going to be a late night and early morning. It is, however, the better of our options, which would be to knock it all out in one go Thursday night and get in at about 6AM Friday, or wait and knock it all out on Friday, getting in who knows when and being stiff as a board from all that sitting. No, even with the short night, this is the best option. Plus, it gives me more time in TC with the family. That has me so excited--this whole "waiting 5 months between seeing my family" game I have to keep playing is getting so old. I miss them and it's hard being this far away. Maybe the move and closer access to the MSP airport will mean more flight trips back? I can only hope...

"You Change, Just Like the Weather..."

Side note: I just got done power cleaning our apartment. It was getting to the point of needing it, especially after the Techie was camped out sick for two days earlier this week. I was about to tweet something, all proud of myself, when I saw this gem I had saved on my desktop.

Well played, some eCards. Well played.

Anyway, t-minus 1.5 days until the Duluth Renegades re-invade International Falls.

I'm excited--if it's anything like last year it will be a great weekend trip with some great friends. In terms of the race itself, I have some mixed feelings. I'd love to repeat or build upon last year's success, but I don't know how that will shake out. The field is going to be stronger (a few from our group are significantly faster than I am), and I think if I go in with any kind of expectation I'll psych myself out. Oh, and then there's that small detail of running both the 5K and 10K, which means an entirely different strategy. What that is, I haven't quite figured out yet. So, until then, I am going in with the mindset that I am having fun and logging some great miles with even greater friends. Sounds good, right?

Another thing I'm trying to figure out is just what to take and wear for this event. Cold weather running poses enough challenges in and of itself, but throw in that I'm running two races less than an hour apart, and I don't know exactly what weather I'll be dealing with, and I find myself thinking I should just pack all of my running clothes and make it a game-time decisions. Practical? Not in the least. So, scratch that idea and back to square one. 

Here is the latest version of the forecast: 

This is the warmest I have seen this forecast. Earlier this week, we were looking at a high of 0, with -36 degree wind chills. So, 14 sounds absolutely manageable, if not downright warm. I am thinking that the outfit I wore last year should be a good starting point, and bringing a complete dry change so I'm not standing around getting chilled. I'm sure in that abyss of a dresser, I have another set I could use...

So, here's hoping I don't freeze my gizzard off, and we have just enough fun that they'll allow us back in 2014!

"Every Mile a Memory..."

For the better part of seven years, this was the town I called home.

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Marquette, Michigan. The Queen City. 

It was my college town. It was the town where I stayed after graduation while I figured out the next step. It was where I did almost as much, or maybe even more growing up than in the eighteen years prior to coming there. It is where I made some enemies, but made far more friends. It was where I trained for and completed my first half-marathon, firmly landing me back in to the running game.

It was where I made more memories than I can count. And I know this, because they all came crashing down on me in the two days I was there last weekend. 

I never noticed it as much when I lived there, nor when I was back for past visits, but that town is down right haunted for me. Around every corner, down every street, anywhere I go, there's a ghost of Lindsey past waiting for me. 

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As I drove in to town, I thought of the countless trips made in and out--as I was coming from the West, I thought of rolling in from St. Germain, Wisconsin and Houghton, Michigan, coming back from trips to see significant others, the pangs of separation filling me with loneliness and sadness. I thought of one particular trip back from Wisconsin in the wee hours of the morning, knowing deep in a breaking heart that it would be the last time, and it was a break I would have to make even though everything in me was screaming not to. But, because of the decision made one teary, cold July morning, I have the memories of returning from Houghton and being with "the Techie", something I would not trade for anything. 

As I caught a glimpse of the bike path, I thought of the day I made the resolution to run a half marathon by the end of 2010. I remembered the old blog I started to recount my journey, and the battle to learn new habits and work this sport I remembered back in to my life. I remembered the joy as I completed runs of higher and higher mileage--6, 7, 8, 11, and that last 12 miler done on my own on a steamy August morning just hours before I would move away. And, I remembered the day I ran the inaugural Marquette Half-Marathon. 2:02:55 and a dream come true. 

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As I drove out to Gwinn, I thought of all the drives I made while subbing and student teaching--gas gauge solidly in the danger zone, praying the beastly teal tank would make it back to town; of all of the times I tried to get the screaming and crying out of my system before I had to be calm and student teach (for the record, most of those efforts were in vain. I was nothing but a pure mess during that semester.) 22 miles of stories, the young teacher-candidate questioning her choice and wondering what the next steps would be either way she chose.

As I went from place to place in Marquette, a ghost appeared behind every corner. I saw myself in the pep band at a hockey game, walking along on campus, dancing at the Upfront and Company, navigating the streets in a truck you could hear coming miles away. I remembered friends with whom I've lost touch. I remembered boyfriends. I, as much as I didn't want to, remembered the one from Wisconsin, and I know that no matter how many other memories I have to replace them, that town will always hold the ghosts of those three disastrous years. 

And then I saw how things have changed--the college kids I knew then are now the adults they were trying to become, with jobs, houses, and kids. Businesses have changed. Roads have changed. Campus has changed. I have changed. 

Sunday afternoon, rolling westward on US-2, I thought hard about my life, and how far things have come just in the last 18 months. 18 months since I loaded that tank of a truck in the middle of the night and left while the rest of the town lay sleeping. I came back and ran that same race nearly 15 minutes faster. I got the courage to admit I didn't want to teach. I was given a blessing beyond my vocabulary to find the job at the running store, and have it become what it has. I, despite screaming tantrums to the contrary, have grown to love the hillside city on the far western end of the lake. 

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I moved to be with that "Techie". I saw with him a future I wasn't going to find with anyone else, a future that wasn't going to be found in that Queen City, no matter how much I loved it. That future brought me to the Zenith City instead, where I began that "real life" I had been trying so hard to find.

I pulled up, passing the old teal tank with the for-sale sign, to the apartment I now call home. I had been back in Marquette to work on things for our wedding, but I was happy to be back home and with the person who is the reason this event will be happening in the first place. 

Sometimes, it's fun to go back and remember your past. But, when your present is this good, it's even better to come back to it.