A couple of weeks ago I took off for what was supposed to just be a standard weekend in New York (well, Jersey City to be exact) for a housewarming for two of my girlfriends. Over two weeks later, I finally arrived home. Or at least, back to Boston.

Up until this trip, I hadn’t really considered going back to NYC. I’ve only been in Boston a little over a year, and things have mostly been good. I haven’t really had any reason or motivation to even consider leaving.

While I was down there, the Groupon gods smiled upon me and offered up a 50% discount to the BlogWorld & New Media Expo the following week. So with my friends’ blessing to reserve their couch, I bought a 1-day pass in order to get to the only two sessions that happened to be touching on the use of social media in financial services, which is kind of my white whale. The pass also included entry to all Keynote sessions, BWENY parties and the exhibit hall. I was in heaven.

The people I crossed paths with and the lessons I learned – and am still processing – were priceless. The extra time in the city also allowed me to do something I haven’t let myself do in years. I let myself get absorbed back into the city itself. I walked around aimlessly, visited some of my favorite shops and restaurants, walked past my old apartment and just let myself remember the way it felt when I was there in the beginning.

And thus opened Pandora’s box. By the end of every other trip I’ve made back, I’m usually chomping at the bit to get back to Boston. But not this time. Each day I spent down there just made me feel a little bit more unsure and lost. Maybe that’s because of everything else going on in my head…career change, grad school, family. But what I’m starting to realize is that for the first time in years, I’m not on an "full speed ahead" track. I’m stuck in the slow lane and being forced to take in everything that’s around me. I can’t afford to work with blinders on right now and not knowing what is coming down the road is scarier than anything else right now.

West 34th Street -- Where it all began


Back on Board?

Or at least back to #Fitblog? I think it’s been at least 6 months (yikes, maybe even a year) since my last attendance.

Over the past year, I haven’t posted a thing here. Not one meaningful post. Not here. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t had thoughts and ideas and opinions – please, I have more than enough of those to go around. Just ask anyone who’s spent more than five minutes with me.

So considering all of the projects and "to-dos" I have flying around in my head, calendar, my Evernote and iProcrastinate apps, and any one of the 7 notebooks I have laying around my desk, kitchen table, living room coffee table, etc. (getting an idea of my insanity yet?) – I figured what better way to give myself a jolt than sharing my Tuesday night with the other Fitbloggers out there.

And, oh, were they out there. Rumor has it there were almost 180 in attendance last night. Almost 180 individual sources of inspiration, ideas and motivation. If that didn’t jump start SOMETHING, I’m a lost cause.
Last night’s discussion was titled "Insane Satisfaction or Simply Insane?"and centered on some of the underlying nuts and bolts of blogging, including how we manage (or in my case recently – not manage) the time commitment and the ups and downs. What better topic set for my first night back?!

With all of the other projects and commitments I have going on, where does my blog fit in? And then, what fits into my blog?

I can’t possibly be the same person I was a year ago. I’m in a whole new city, with more opportunities ahead of me than I can keep track of and that recurring feeling like I have a reserved seat on the corner of "I’m in SO over my head" and "WAIT! I think I get it!".

Maybe if I just keep making lists and checking things off said list, somehow I’ll figure it all out?

Really? It’s Been THAT Long?

I know I’m overdue for an update. The last year or so has been a bit hectic from the move to Boston (yeah – I got and took that job) to leaving said job to pursue my dream career and juggling everything in between.

There’s been laughs and tears, bumps and bruises (literally), 3 laptops, 4 iPhones and a lot of other fun along the way. So in an effort to continue to look and move forward, I am in the midst of revamping this blog and will be incorporating it into a brand new site.

I’m a big girl now, it’s time to act like it.

Could It Be? Who Knows?

Yes, I’m humming along to a song out of West Side Story, to myself. And that may be one of the least crazy things I’ve done this weekend.

There is so much running through my mind, I’ve been doing everything imaginable to wrap my head around it.

  • Thursday — I decided to give up coffee. Cold turkey. And I’ve surprisingly not killed anybody. So far.
  • Friday — I gave myself a Picasso-worthy sunburn sitting in my beach chair for the first time this season with some girlfriends trying to talk out some of the issues. Followed by a 3 mile + walk with 3 very energetic Italian greyhounds.
  • Saturday — I tried to beat it all into making sense by doing my Pilates class, followed by a kickboxing class, followed by a 1 mile walk home, followed by a 5 mile bike ride which was then followed by an hour of restorative yoga. Which was all followed by a verrrrry long nap.
  • Sunday — I opted/tried for a more zen approach. I had a leisurely morning, enjoyed a very healthy breakfast, a relaxing walk to get a manicure, a chance run-in with an old friend who I haven’t seen in over a year, another walk along the water to meet another friend on the beach, followed by a relaxing dinner at home – tucked comfortably in a pair of sweats and my Boston sweatshirt and a Red Sox game on in the background.

And through all of this I’m weighing my decision to go up to Boston on Tuesday in pursuit of what very likely could be a dream opportunity for me. There aren’t many days that go by that I don’t wonder what my life would be like if I was in Boston right now, as I had planned to be last winter. But at the same time that would mean letting go of my life here in New York. A life I love living. A beach outside my front door, friends all around, with Manhattan just a few miles away. And the thought of giving this up leaves me more than a little bit apprehensive.

I remember when I was first working on putting together my move to Boston, I had begged my dad to come out here to help with the drive up. Not so much for the physical loading, unloading, etc. but to help me leave this part of my life behind. Even moving from Chicago didn’t cause that much emotional effort, not beyond the usual settling in that is normal. But leaving New York? This was my life. I have been on my own 100%, no safety nets, all by myself from the beginning. I had to figure out my place all on my own. So am I now ready to leave it all behind?

I knew last fall that moving to Boston would be a move like none other. Right now I imagine that I will be back in New York (on the beach, of course) in the matter of 5-10 years. But really? Who knows?

Right now all I am I really convinced of is that something is on the verge of happening. And as anxious as I am about the implications, I am also finding it hard not to jump out of my skin waiting to find out what’s next.

Sometimes You Just Need to Keep Going

I have had a lot of struggling runs lately, related to everything from the weather to leg pain to hangovers to no sleep to moving to St. Patricks Days (yes we’ve had at least 4 so far, with 1 more to go) and on and on and on. Tonight started out like one of those runs. It was colder than I had hoped and the wind was picking up with every step, and of course it switched directions every time I made a turn.

But then this funny thing happened. I passed this guy I’ve seen out almost every time I’ve gone out for a run. I must have passed him a hundred times in the past, given the obligatory nod but just moved on.

Tonight I was struggling so I was looking for someone else who was struggling as much, if not more, than I was. And there he was. Slowly chugging along at an excruciatingly slow jog. I smiled and continued down my warm-up path. I made it to the end of the boardwalk and turned around, absolutely dreading that little voice in my ear to pick up the pace for the next 5 minutes. And I’m miserable. Abso-friggin’-lutely miserable. As in I contemplated taking an alternate path home and cheating out of the rest of my run.

And then I turned the corner. And there he was chugging back along. Still going. In his Mets hat, Mets jacket, Mets shorts (yes apparently somebody did buy them) and his old Walkman that I’m sure was a hand-me-down from a grandkid with the ’86 World Series playing.

And the biggest smile on his face. He waved over to me and started cheering me on. Little Miss Doom and Gloom, who half a block earlier was ready to quit. And I started laughing.

And I spent the rest of my run thinking: Someday I want to be just like that guy (in Cubs or Bears gear of course). Mid-70s, a little softer around my middle than I am now, moving slower than I ever imagined was possible, but spending every step just happy to be there. Out in the fresh air, steps away from the ocean and alive.

And the only way I’m going to make it there is if I keep chugging along. Although hopefully at a better pace.

%d bloggers like this: