Feet Move Forward

John has been out of town all week, leaving me all by my lonesome. And by lonesome, I mean with an attack cat and plans with people every night. So really, not lonesome at all (except the part where I come home to a human-less house every night). But adapting to life as a single when I'm used to life as a couple was a little bit challenging. Like forgetting to shut the coffee pot off, and having to drive back home on Wednesday morning.  morning coffee is john's job And being worried about getting murdered in my sleep. Luckily Carl helped me search the house for intruders when I got home each night. (Seriously, I've stopped watching all crime shows because I have too active of an imagination!) no one hiding under there! But John was sweet, and left me little notes.  And I got to have plenty of time with friends, like going to Rusty Taco for the first time with Colleen and Julie on Wednesday night. Colleen wanted to document our trip an

I don't mean to disappear for weeks at a time, I really don't, especially since I know so many of you are living vicariously through me (that's sarcasm, btw).  But you know, life .  On Wednesday last week John and I left for a trade show down in Nashville. I haven't been down there since I was a teenager, and was looking forward to spending a little QT with the hubs, even though we were working. ( Side note for those people reading who are not related to me: John and I work for the same company .)  After one of the easiest set-ups in Trade Show History, we enjoyed a 3 mile round-trip walk to the AT&T store to fix my ailing phone, and on the way back to our hotel, stopped at a little place called Coffee, Lunch where I had the best salad of my life.  Per their menu, it's arugula, figs, blue cheese, and spiced pecans, with balsamic vinaigrette and house-made crostini. So, so, so good. John had done some restaurant research prior to us leaving for

Fact: After a certain point in life, you'll find yourself on every mailing list known to man, and receive every catalog that's ever been printed. The other week, both the Victoria's Secret and the Athleta catalogs landed in my mailbox.  Growing up, I used to go through VS catalogs page by page, wondering if I'd ever get boobs, and if I'd ever be as pretty as the women in the magazine. Then puberty hit, and I did get boobs (spoiler alert: they're not all they're cracked up to be) but my body most definitely did not look like the ones pictured. I wasn't flawlessly tan. I had (have!) cellulite. My hair wasn't effortlessly wavy. And so, I did what a lot of teenage girls did: I cut out pictures and plastered them to the wall in my bedroom, to serve as motivation to "get in shape." (This is what we did before Pinterest.)  Flipping through the Athleta catalog, it was impossible not to notice the stark contrast between the models and mark

Today is our three-month anniversary. I mentioned earlier this week that John and I have been working out since March, and I knew when we started that I was in dire need of new shoes. My current pair should have been retired a while ago. My knees will ache after running in them, which is a telltale sign. Anyway, last night after picking up groceries, when it had just begun to snow huge, wet flakes, we spontaneously decided to hit up my favorite running store, Mill City Running , and buy each other a little anniversary present. Because my mileage isn't high- and won't be for a while- I told them I wanted something a little "softer" than my beloved Mizunos. So, after several trips on the treadmill, I settled with these beauties .   Nikes. I know. But they're really comfortable, and for the brief minute I wore them on the treadmill, it was like running on little pillows. I'm looking forward to taking them on their first real run tomorrow morning.

Okay, seriously. Marriage makes you fat. Or maybe Minnesota winters make you fat. Or maybe getting married during a Minnesota winter makes you fat. For clarification, I know I'm not fat. It's more flabby-out-of-shape-my-jeans-don't-fit. I was okay with it for the first couple months, enjoying married life, and didn't really think twice about the days that ticked by without a workout. And then both John and I found ourselves with a closet full of clothes that were a bit too tight, and we realized that our nights of snuggling on the couch while eating baguette and cheese were coming to a close. In March we decided to go the old "21 Days to Make a Habit" route and get our butts to the gym *nearly* every morning. (Things sort of fell apart the week we went down to San Antonio but we hopped back on the horse when we got home.) Now, roughly a month later, I've already seen gains in fitness and can zip (but not comfortably wear) my jeans. Progress!