Out of the blue and into the black.

I don't know what Neil Young meant when he sang that, but it sounded good. What I mean by it is I now declare that I am out of retreat, out of my funk, and forcefully moving toward an upswing. How has this happened? I am not sure, but I will try to recap:

I officially had a panic attack on Thursday about all the shit I have to do in the coming months and the fact that I don't know how to do a large chunk of it and I'll just be throwing myself to the wolves. Again. This has always turned out for the best in the past, but at this stage of the game, history is no solace.

On top of that, running has been inordinately difficult. Again, I don't know why. I chalk it up to cycles. Sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down. This appears to apply to all things in life.

I forced myself to run (finally) on Saturday. 10 miles in the rain. It weren't easy. But I did it. Wildlife spotting: a couple of old fogies making out in a parking lot. I assume they were having an affair and meeting up at exactly the time the entire neighborhood was at a block party. I hate to see this sort of mess almost as much as seeing a dead deer on the side of the road.

Sunday I ran the 8K in Michigan City through the sand dunes, along the lakeshore beach and straight up a hill to the top of a tower. This, too weren't easy. At all. Last year this race was the first race I'd ever run and the longest distance I'd ever run. This year I thought I'd speed through like nothing, but this simply wasn't so. I finished in 56:18. And I'm feeling those sand dunes in my feet and legs.

After the race, my mom and I headed into Chicago for Sunday brunch and dee-lightful shopping at Lord & Taylor with savings passes in hand. Made a killing in accesories, lingerie and clothes. Retail therapy does wonders.

Today I decided to do a short run instead of taking the day off, thinking it might help loosen up my tight muscles. It was hard going, but I'm glad I did it. I hope the rest of my training doesn't feel the same way. I want that easy-breezy feeling back, that, "yeah, I just ran 13 (or 15 or 18) miles and it felt good." Oh well, even if I don't get that back, I'm going to keep on keepin' on.

Because I have my eye on the prize. And I create prizes to keep my eye on--this is the way I keep a forward momentum in my life. I can get through anything if I can see to the end, and I often bribe myself. In this case, I'm bribing myself with a birthday trip in style to San Francisco. Fairmont, spa treatments, bay cruises, fabulous restaurants, Napa Valley . . . the works, all in the spectacular company of Sid and Carlos. Because I'm turning 29 on Thanksgiving Day, and I need something marvelous to look forward to. This just happens to be the best thing I could think of.

Plus, it helps remind me that everything I'm doing, all that I'm working towards, will one day land me back in San Francisco, with the life and the kind of abundance I deserve. And have worked for. This is not to denigrate the abundant life I'm leading now, but there has to be something more. And I have to be open for it.

It's a delicate balance, this. Gratefulness for what I have and who I am coupled with the desire and expectation that greater things are in store (not to mention the awareness that shit and roadblocks are an integral part of the journey).

I know, I know. There are no shortcuts.