Recently, there's been some rather big changes happening in my life.
A month ago, my husband and I packed up our apartment in the Boston area and drove eight days across the country to our new place in southern California. Unfortunately, this move meant I had to quit my job at the Appalachian Mountain Club (although, I have to admit I've waited my entire life to suddenly quit my job and move west).
Moving cross-country is no small task, but sadly, it does nothing for the figure. (Unless, I suppose, you walked.) The days leading up to the big move involved farewell dinners at restaurants, packing, and holding a couple moving sales, followed by eight days of sitting in the car and eating road food. Throw in another week of nothing but unpacking, shopping at IKEA, and waiting in line at the DMV, and I've turned into a marshmallow with bangs.
So, I did what any rational, sane ex-pat from New England would do. I signed up for a half-marathon in Death Valley. Okay, so it's in February. But, Death Valley! Imagine how cool the finisher shirt will look!
I'm now armed with a Higdon training plan and new roads to explore. As they say out here on the left coast, I'm stoked. Wicked stoked.