Today marks several anniversaries.
Six years ago today, I ran 8 miles for the first time. I was in training for a half marathon, and was increasing my distance each weekend by one mile. This was the farthest I had run thus far. I remember choosing to do my long run on a Friday because I was going out that night and knew I wouldn't be up for it on Saturday. I lived in an apartment near Cheesman Park, and ran up to and around City Park. I remember listening to a lot of Modest Mouse when I ran back then, and the song that stands out the most is "Float On". I had just broken up with a boyfriend of almost 4 years just a few days before. I wasn't exactly devastated, but not super chipper either. I had my training goal, the half marathon was just a couple months away, and I stayed focused on that. "We'll all float on, good news is on the way".
Anyway, then went to work and did my thing for the day. I was going out with my friend Julie that night to see her friend's band play at Herman's Hideaway. I wore a black skirt with all kinds of samba-like layers, and a tube top. I'm not kidding about the tube top - I rocked it.
I was at Julie's apartment and she was on the phone when her friend Steve came to the door. Julie's husband was out of town that weekend and she had asked Steve to be her escort to the bar. She opened the door and there he was. I was sitting on her couch across from the door and we made eye contact. Then the strangest happened - it became clear to me that I would marry this man. It was just an understanding that I had. Not a fleeting thought, not just a moment of whimsy, it was a feeling of clarity.
The three of us went out to dinner, and this is where it all started to go downhill. One would think after such a Cinderella-like moment that the rest of the night would be all clouds and sparkles, but not so. I ate very little dinner (I was excited, and for some very unusual reason - not hungry) and there seemed to be a misunderstanding between myself and the bartender. They thought I kept ordering drinks; I didn't think I did. Regardless, drinks kept appearing before me and I kept finishing them off. This continued when we go to the show. Drinks just kept appearing in my hand with no recollection of how they got there. Oh, how convenient! Tra la la...
Then very suddenly I realize I should go to the bathroom. Right away. And miraculously, I made it there effortlessly in my 3.5" heels, tube top and all. Once there, I lost my ability to communicate clearly. Julie came in very concerned to check on me, and in my head I was telling her things like "I'm fine, this is just really embarrassing and I need a moment to recover", and "I'm more concerned about how filthy the floor is in this restroom stall than how I'm feeling right now", but what Julie insisted she heard sounded more like "Uuuuuuuh".
And when the waitress also came in (not at all concerned about my welfare) and threatened to call an ambulance if we didn't leave immediately, I did manage to clearly communicate my thoughts on that subject. I said something about my ridiculous co-pay for such an event, stood up, and left the bathroom with some dignity (at least that is how I am choosing to remember this moment). Steve heroically picked me up (my 3.5" heels were slightly more difficult to navigate at this point) and carried me out of the bar sans ambulance with the cranky waitress watching our departure.
Ah, memories. "Alright don't worry even if things end up a bit too heavy we'll all float on, all right".