And there's this.

Size small, short sleave, cotton blend.

What to do, what to do. So my dream of being a college athlete is still there, I am 5'2 and weigh 140 lbs so that rules a ton out. But like they say in Chicago, there's always next year. I like the idea of running fast and from what I can tell, FAMU cross country doesn't have a whole lot of it on their team. Now I'm not looking for a scholarship or anything, I just want a t-shirt and a pat on the back and the rattlers might end up being my pick next fall when a season comes around. Or there's also running jv at fsu. These are obviously pipe dreams and it's going to take a lot of work to get from a 24:00 to a 19:00, but I've stuck with it this long, what is a little while longer? Plus, I really dig t-shirts.

Goals by month:

November- Turkey trot 10k

December- 5k in under 24:00

January- 10 miles

February- Half marathon

March- (Secret) Albany GA Marathon

Oh crap.

I still have dreams about San Antonio. I wake up with the distinct feeling that I am still there, still living on the east side and toiling away in the kitchen Andrew built. I don't cook any more, not professionally. I stick to rice and vegatbles, cold tofu and green onions drenched in soy and ginger, things that Mike likes to eat. I run through math problems, I go to school on cold mornings so that I can learn design process, I don't write any more. Mike and I go to dinner and I eat the dreams of some one else. My own come to me at night in the form of nightmares. I am running up the red stair case, I am awash with guilt, I am ashamed of the person I was in the depths of my adolescent misery. Le Reve is closing. In my waking hours I thought that I would have my graduation dinner there, as a symbol of how far I've come. But there won't be time for that. They'll close their doors and turn down the lights. The stair case will lead you to no where.

Ridin somein' candy coated crawlin' like a catapilla

I wonder what my running looks like to other people. I have a lot of friends, and none of them run. I hear about the occasional jog in the park, the once or twice around Lake Ella loop, but for the most part it's just me. I've been at it for a while now, since I moved back to Tallahassee and shacked up with that old man of mine. I remember our first jog, the route that started behind our old apartment, through the green way, into betton hills and back again. I remember feeling good one day, and then not so great the next. I was cycling pretty hard then, putting in 35 milers on the week ends with the local club. But this was different in that there were no cars around to hit me (which after a couple accidents tends to terrify you). Every body has good days and bad days, and I'm no exception. That's why I wonder what I look like to my friends when they see me running down the street. Holly once told me that her and Kevin caught a glimpse of us as they were finishing up ice cream on their couch. She said something about laughing at polarity of our situation, mike and me huffing and puffing, pounding pavement. If you saw me last night, around 8:00, rounding the bend on Monroe street, I can only imagine that you witnessed pure unadulterated joy. See, last night, I was super high on running. It felt like the road could go on forever and I could follow it any where. I felt light and fast as I passed people jogging around the lake. It was as if they weren't even moving, and I, I was flying. It's rare, most of the time my feet hurt, and my legs ache, my calves have the tendancy of feeling like their on fire. So it's not always easy, and it takes a ton of discipline. But if you see me and I'm running, there's a chance that it feels pretty freaking good. Better than ice cream.