At this point the nurse anesthetist has started to push the plunger on the large cc syringe containing the milky white Propofol into my IV.
“Do you have any races coming up?”
“Nothing on the calendar but I ran the Boston Marathon a few weeks ago.”
“That’s fantastic. How did you do? What was your time?”
“Two fifty five”
Those were the last words that came out of my mouth. I’d already lined up my questions for her in my head because it sounded like she might’ve been a runner and we could’ve had ourselves a little conversation before it was lights out for yours truly. But it was already lights out for yours truly.
That’s the summary of my first colonoscopy experience.
Apparantly, aside from me being a lightweight anasthesia partier, everything went great. Clean colonoscopy. No abnormalities. No polyps. And I don’t have to get another colonoscopy for 10 years. And that’s a good thing because the “prep” for a colonoscopy is a shitty experience. Pun intended.
The two dose Suprep.Breakfast with El at Jim’s after the procedureMade sure no one stole our couch for the rest of the day.
Today’s a hard day. It’s difficult. It’s bittersweet.
Elise and Maly just left Charleston West Virginia.
Maly has wanted to come home for almost a year now. Maybe more. Maybe less. You’d have to ask her. We left on August 13, 2024 to move her up to Charleston for college.
She made it two years, but after spending the better part of that second year injured, she decided to call it an end to her college lacrosse career at the University of Charleston. And with that decision, she decided that she wants to be closer to home. As of right now we don’t know what the plan is. She gets the summer to figure out the rest of her life.
On one hand it’s nice and exciting that she’s coming home and she’ll no longer be 1,300 miles away. On the other hand it’s sad because there’s been a change in course and there’s uncertainty and we won’t have child who lives 1,300 miles away in West Virginia.
I really like West Virginia. Probably like most, it wasn’t much on my radar of places to visit. When we learned that Maly was being recruited by a coach in West Virginia I sort of snickered and turned my nose up at the idea. I’m glad she went.
I’m partial to the thought that Maly currently had “negative” memories and associations with living so far away for 2 years. I think when she looks back at her time there it’ll be met with fond memories and friendships and the hard lessons in adulting. The room’s always dark when you’re in it.
Elise flew out to Charleston on Wednesday evening to help Maly get all packed up and moved out. The girls had their conference championship semifinals game against Dominican yesterday afternoon. They lost 15-13. The UC Women’s Lacrosse team is done this year. They’re driving Maly’s car home. They’re taking a longer route. Elise wants to drive through Alabama and Mississippi. They should be home tomorrow.
I’m going to miss charleston and I’m sad that I didn’t really get to see it or say goodbye one last time. We were up there for Easter, and I kind of knew that might be my last time there, but I was also holding out hope that Maly might have a change of heart and decide to ride it out for a couple more years to finish her degree.
I remember when Elise and Maly flew out there for a recruits trip. Maly already had an offer. She and Elise were both excited about Charleston. I was excited and scared that all of that reality was crashing down on me.
Now it’s crashing down on me again. The only constant is change, so they say. And, I guess since I’m using time-tested adages, I’ve really learned in my recent years that life really is about the journey and not the destination. I guess it just takes a fair number of destinations and their respective journeys.
Most people don’t PR (personal record) the marathon at Boston. Most people don’t PR the marathon at age 50. I’m not most people.
Running is 90% mental. The other 10% is mental. I’d been mentally preparing for yesterday’s Boston Marathon since November 5, 2023. My friend, Matt Fletcher and I had a conversation on the First Street bridge after the Run for the Water race in Austin. He was there supporting NXP team runners. I was there supporting ARC runners.
“How did you run sub-3 at Boston? What’s the trick?”
“You train your f**king ass off.”
And that’s all it took. He knew that I knew what that meant.
And instead of setting a goal of 2:59 at a future Boston Marathon, I decided I would attempt to PR the marathon at a future Boston Marathon. That would mean faster than 2:56:45, which I’d set in Houston (a very flat course) in 2020. 2:55 sounded like a good, round number, so that’s the time that I stamped into my brain.
But I also needed to run a qualifying race that would get me into a Boston Marathon. So I decided I would run a race that would qualify me to get into the NYC Marathon, which is actually harder to get into by way of qualification than Boston.
I qualified for the 2024 NYC Marathon. That race would become my Boston qualifier by design. I am very diligent and disciplined in my training. I trained very specifically for NYC. The goal was 3:10. That would get me a 15 minute buffer (by Boston qualifying standards that year). I trained to run a 3:10. I trained to be strong in the later miles of the race. Running 26 miles is hard. Running the last 8 miles of a marathon is really, really hard. The NYC marathon has a lot of bridges, and each bridge is a hill. I trained for late mile hills.
I ran a 3:04 at NYC. Six minutes faster than planned. I was feeling good and punchy that day, especially at mile 17. That qualified me for the 2026 Boston Marathon.
I started mentally training for Boston in November of 2024. I started physically training, in earnest, with a periodized training plan for Boston in November of 2025.
I changed my training approach and methodology. Workouts were longer and harder. I built in five peak weeks (weeks that have a hard workout on Tuesday and Thursday and culminate with a 20+ mile run on Sunday) instead of the usual three weeks. Much to the chagrin of most coaches, I omitted strength training and focused only on running. I ran doubles on Wednesdays, which means I’d run early in the morning, go to work, and then run right after I got home with <12 hours of recovery. I ran a lot of hills. I made the hard days hard and the easy days easy. Emphasis on the easy days. A lot of run training means easy, slow running. I ran more with my run club, and I always ran with the back-of-the-packers. The slower the better. And when they’d get discouraged or feel bad for slowing me down, I’d remind them that they were doing me a favor, and they were learning how to run, and that they’d look back on these days and remember when they used to run “slow.” That’s how we all start, and it’s the most exciting and fun part of beginning the running journey. Running’s a long game. You can’t rush anything. It takes persistence and consistency. And lastly, I ran more. I introduced a lot of volume. Lots and lots of weekly and cumulative mileage to the point where I was teetering on overtraining. It was a very fine line. I’m still thanking my lucky stars that I somehow staved off an injury.
I mentally prepared to PR the marathon at Boston. Knowledge of the race helps. Boston has kicked my ass 4 times before. The first 15 miles are fast and downhill or flat. There are hills between miles 16-21. That’s the worst place to have hills in a marathon. I broke the marathon up into three sections:
Miles 1 – 15: Calm and Controlled. Stay steady at 6:40-6:45 pace. Don’t get cocky. Don’t go out with the over-enthused.
Miles 16 – 21: Cool the jets. Drop the pace to get through the hills. Stay in control and just do the work to get up and over the 4 hills. Maintain good form and posture and run at a consistent effort. That means that I could slow down, but focus on my breath and be mindful of how my whole body felt. Keep that rate of perceived effort the same as the previous 16 miles. It’s okay to slow down. When I got to the top of the hill, I’d let myself ease back into the right pace and not rush into making up for any lost time when I was working the uphills.
Miles 21-26: Steady and strong. Steady meaning settle back into a 6:40 pace. Strong meaning push hard. Push through any pain or discomfort and start emptying the tank. I’d remind myself that I trained hard for this and I only have one shot.
I stuck to my plan. And it worked. I have a few friends who were being punchy on my behalf. One predicted a 2:52. Another asked for a 2:50. I secretly maintained a stretch goal of 2:51 if I was feeling punchy yesterday morning. I wasn’t feeling punchy yesterday morning because of nerves and less-than-ideal sleep the night before. I decided to stay strict and disciplined. 2:55 was the goal. I’d trained to run 2:55.
My plan came together flawlessly. I experienced some anxiety coming into mile 16. I was already fatigued and I had the Newton hills to get through. But I reminded myself that I’d trained my f**king ass off, and I just did the work to get up and over the hills. And I gutted it out the last 5 miles. I executed exactly how I’d wanted to and this year’s Boston Marathon is probably my best and proudest marathon.
I ran a 2:55:11. I saw Elise standing at the front of a crowded barricade on Boyleston just after Gloucester. That was the highlight of those hard-fought previous 25.8 miles. I saw her smile. That’s all I needed. She knew I’d done it. I knew I’d done it. I pointed to her and smiled as big of a smile as I could muster and I mouthed “I love you,” and then I started sprinting.
Unless you run the tangents, the Boston Marathon can be a little long. I ran 26.37 miles in 2:55:11. I ran 26.2 miles in 2:54:25. I beat my A Goal by 45 seconds. That can be a lifetime in the marathon.
I remember when I was in 9th grade my dad told me, “you have to want it more than anything.” The “it” at the time is irrelevant (it was making the football team). The it now, whatever it is, is always relevant.
I finally beat Boston. I wanted it and I worked hard to get it. I’m thankful and very happy.
We were driving home from the Austin Rodeo at 9:00 p.m. last night. It was Elise, Mara, Kyla and I. We were waiting at a light at the intersection of 973 and 969 and we witnessed a head-on collission. I think the pretty Corvette was trying to turn left against oncoming highway traffic. He or she misjudged. It was a bad wreck. Bad enough to where we were all shaken, and hoped that the folks involved were okay because it was one of those wrecks where everyone could be otherwise.
We slowly drove on through the light after it turned green. Elise called 911, but cops were already on the scene, I guess enroute to another call. It all happened so fast.
As we were driving home on 71 Maly texted me. She’d sent me a story I’d written in 2009. A story before she was a big sister. A story about realizing how important it is to live in the present.
We’d gone to the fair that evening because Elise and I have jobs where our respective presences are needed. Elise is no longer a stay-at-home mom who caters to our children’s whims. I no longer work in revenue abundant tech where paid time off is handed out like candy and your contributions and dedication are expendible. It was Mara’s spring break this past week and she was left to her own devices during the weekdays while her mom and I worked. We took Mara and her childhood best friend Kyla to the fair at the Austin Rodeo.
I’d earned a meager fistfull of big bills in recent weeks, so that was the budget I’d alloted for our fair outing. I was beat from the work week and from marathon training. I’d’ve liked to just get sideways on the couch and spend my Friday night thusly. Elise said the girls wanted to go to the rodeo, and she’d enjoy herself more if I went. My greedy head didn’t want to go, but my familyman head did. I knew I should, even though I could’ve gone to sleep at 5:30 p.m.
So the four of us piled into the truck and drove out to the Travis County Exposition Center.
$20 to park $40 for entrance $94 for unlimited ride wristbands for the girls
We hadn’t even made it onto the fairgrounds and the remaining budget was $18. The girls rode all the rides. Elise and I kind of followed and hovered as distant shadows, giving the girls space that 14-year-old girls probably want at a fair. I knew the girls would be safe, but parents still want to ensure that safety. But really it just gave Elise and me a moving target so we could walk around the fairgrounds, see the fairground things, get some exercise, and witness the girls have fun. To live vicariously. I mean, this is probably one of the main reasons I signed on to become a parent. To watch your children grow up and hopefully have fun in the process before they get too old and too busy for their parents.
Elise and I probably circled the fair by some variant eight times. We’d reconvene with Mara and Kyla every so often. They’d excitedly tell us about a ride or other humans they’d experienced.
The sun went down. The girls still had rides and adventures to experience. It was getting close to my bedtime. There was lemonade to be bought at beyond my remaining budget, and excited giggles about how they thought the fair went until 10 or 11 p.m. I quitely bore witness and, in a moment in my concious that couldn’t even be called a second, decided that that would be okay. As selfish and as tired as I am and was, it could be a long night.
Elise wanted to sit down so we moseyed to some temporary bleachers before the Agrilife trailer. Elise had to go to the bathroom. I sat there in the quiet. I thought about my child and wondered if she thought about us, her old parents hobbling off to find a quiet place to sit instead of being excited and taking in the sites and sounds and experiences and rides. I figured she could have those thoughts. I’m sure I wondered the same of my parents. And now I know. They have those fleeting thoughts. We all wonder if our parents are okay. If our parents are having fun. If our parents really want to be there. If our parents are making a big sacrifice because they have important parent things to do.
The important thing is just being there. And your child knows you’re there. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else at that moment.
It wasn’t much longer when Mara texted Elise and said they were done and ready to go home. It was well before I thought we’d leave. In a way I was relieved. But I was also sad and disappointed. I’d signed on to be there as long as she wanted to be there. I know there aren’t going to be many more of these chances. These fairs. These parks. These rodeos. These outtings. And that’s the really sad and disappointing part.
There was a point in the evening when Elise and I were walking and circling the fairgrounds. I kind of remember where we were, but I couldn’t tell you where it was. I don’t recall what was in the periphery or what we were passing as we walked. I remember the direction we were walking. I can see us like I’m hovering above us.
“Do you ever wish Maly would hurry up, get married and have a kid?”
We’ve never had that conversation before. And we didn’t have that conversation last night. Not because either one of us was avoiding it, but the talk shifted ever so slightly, and then maybe that’s when Mara texted Elise to tell her they were done and ready to go home.
I’ll never be done being a dad. It’s the best thing this life has given me.
On Saturdays I lead the Circle C Run Club’s group run. We start either at 7:00 a.m. or 7:30 a.m., depending on the time of year. Any other day of the week in recent months I’ve already got my run in for the day and I’m either on my way to work or having my second breakfast for the day.
I woke up early this morning and had lots of time to kill, so I decided to walk to the mailbox. I was pleasantly surprised to see that High Five Events had delivered the award for placing in the Austin International Half Marathon.
The trophy is a steel record, I’d guess keeping with a theme of Austin being a music city. I’ve received a handful of age group awards in my late stage running “career.” I earned 2nd place once before in the same race when it was the 3M Half Marathon (and will most likely still be effectionally refered to as such).
This one’s kind of special because it was my last race as a 40-something. I aged up into the 50-something category this past January. I grew and got stronger and faster throughout my 40’s. And during so, I embraced the fact I’m getting older and I’ll start slowing down eventually.
I hadn’t planned on signing up for this race as I’ve been in the throes of hard marathon training since late November. My friend Iram called me one morning and asked if I wanted his AIH bib as he was going to have to work the event. I checked my training plan and actually had 13 miles scheduled for the day of the event. So the stars kind of aligned themselves. I paid Iram to have the bib transfered into my name and toed the line early on January 18th.
My plan was to run a sub-1:27 half marathon. I knew I was well within sub-1:30 shape, and I really just wanted to beat my time when I first ran that race in 2015. And my time at that 2015 race stood as my half marathon PR for over 8 years.
It was cold at the start of this year’s race. It was crowded. I got to the start later than I’d like. The gun went off and it was chaos. Finding footing and elbow room for the first half mile was an exercise in patience and jossling. Just getting through the first mile was tough. There are too many people who line up up front who have no business being up front. After a couple kilometers there was a bit more breathing room, but the more people behind me would mean for less people to weave through in front of me. So I ran faster and settled into a pace at the 2 mile split that would put me way ahead of 1:27.
And so I just kind of checked in with myself and contemplated if I could hang on for another 11 miles. I decided to hang on and find out.
Sick, overdressed, and not trained for a fast half marathon and I pulled in a 2nd place in my age group. Maybe I’ll race it next year and see if I can take first in my new age group…
Last night I took Mara to lacrosse practice. As we were leaving she asked me if we could go to Dick’s to buy her a new mouthguard. She got braces a month ago, and lacrosse season is back, and she needs a new mouthguard. Dick’s is kind of far away and I was tired. I said, “can’t you just get a mouthguard at Academy?” And she said, “yeah, I get them confused.”
I figured Academy isn’t that far away. It’d be a little detour on the way home from practice. So we went to Academy. And it was a nice little detour, and a chance to hang out for a bit with Mara — something we just don’t do often enough anymore.
We did some aisle perusing. We asked an employee where the lacrosse mouthguards could be found. They only had one. We went to the football mouthguard section and Mara found the one she wanted (fruit punch flavored, of course). So we grabbed the mouthguard. For grins we went to the clothing section and I found two pairs of my tried and true running shorts that I thought had been discontinued. So we killed three birds with one stone, and I was glad that Mara asked to go get a mouthguard. We got to hang out, she got a new mouthguard, and I got running shorts that I thought had been discontinued.
We went home, had dinner, and Mara boiled water to form her new mouthguard. She’s 13. She doesn’t require much supervision. She can read instructions. She’s formed a mouthguard before.
The mouthguard got stuck to her braces. She fought relentlessly for 45 minutes to get the mouthguard unstuck from her brackets. No dice. She tried holding hot water in her mouth. She tried prying. She became quiet and weepy. I decided to try to fight fire with fire. I went to the garage and got two difference sized wire cutters. She was able to get the mouthguard unstuck from her back teeth on the right side of her mouth. After some careful amateur orthodontia I was able to cut 1/3 of the mouthguard out, but the rest just wasn’t budging. I had her lay her head in my lap on the living room floor while I, with headlamp on my head and armed with wire snips, tried to see if I could cut out more of the mouthguard without clipping a lip or gums, but there were no dice there either.
We finally settled on her just sleeping with the mouthguard stuck to her braces and Elise would have to take her to the orthodontist in the morning.
Mara got up at 6:00 a.m. I checked on her. She was okay. She said her lips were a little sore. I guess that’s from all of the mouthguard tugging and me moving around her lips to try to cut out the rubbery plastic.
I took this photo on February 4th of this year while out on my very early morning run. I had no idea it was the 5 year anniversary of the day I’d lost my job at UA
I don’t recall exactly, but if I had to guess, the memory was stirred from an image that was displayed on the Amazon Echo Show this morning. It was a photo of the house or the neighborhood blanketed in deep (for Austin) snow. It was the crippling winter storm Uri that hit us in mid-February of 2021. Five short years ago.
I immediately went to my laptop and started looking at photos from this day five years ago. I’d taken quite a lot of photos because we’d had a lot of snow and ice. The ice broke trees. School and businesses were shut down for weeks. We were without water. COVID was still a thing.
Call it survivalism, optimism, or just-not-giving-a-shitism, but I remember those days fondly. Seems like the rest of the region (especially our community, on social media) was freaking out and the ice and COVID were the apocolypse. I knew my family wasn’t going to endure the worst: death. We could melt snow. We had a pantry and freezer full of stuff that could sustain us. We could drive somewhere if we had to. We just accepted what we couldn’t control, settled in, hunkered down, and made the best of it. And our best was fun. I remember there being laughter.
I’d forgotten in recent years that, amidst the goings on at that time, I’d lost my job just 10 days prior. And it was a loss that swept me (and the rest of the team) off my feet. There were no hints or reasons to fathom layoffs. I was blindsided. I was comfortable at the job. It provided my family with stability and security. I’d no plans or reasons to look elsewhere.
And thus began a winter of discontent and some years of job floundering.
But I still look back on that February of 2021 and remember the happy times. We didn’t have water. We didn’t have school. We didn’t have a steady income. But we made out pretty alright.
Yesterday I started the day with a run with some of my homies. We’ve done this for 8 years now, since Chad, Scott and I went on our first Circle C Run Club official group run together. It’s the clubs longest-standing group run.
Early in the afternoon Elise and I went on a sporadic “date.” We went to Suds Monkey for pepperoni rolls and a beer for Elise. That was relatively inexpensive and fun, unlike most everything else in Austin which has become expensive, crowded, and not fun. I was still hungry, so we drove down the road (mind you we’re in what’s probably considered Dripping Springs, not Austin, but is pretty much a ‘burb of Austin now) to Dos Olivos and ordered off the brunch menu. We had barbacoa donuts, chicharrones nachos, and patatas bravas, and a glass of wine for Elise. That was also fun, and a little more pricy, but a lot less expensive than what we could’ve spent for the same food and ambiance on the other side of the county line.
Then we spend a good hour at Breed & Co. just browsing and procuring supplies to re-seal the girls’ bathtub. A couple more errands, and then over to Iram’s house to help him pickup some firewood.
By the time we got home, I was hungry again, so Mara and I went to HEB. She wanted stuff to make some kind of quesadilla breakfast sandwich thing. I bought dough so I could make my own pepperoni rolls. Can’t have too many pepperoni rolls in one day.
On our way to HEB Mara played Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. I mean, that’s cool when your 13 year old listens to that album. The theme of our trip to the grocery store was music. I think they were playing Foo Fighters at HEB. I told Mara that the best thing to come out of Nirvana was Dave Grohl. Well, that and the pioneering of the grunge music genre. She told me that two years ago all of the kids at school thought that Nirvana was a clothing brand. I guess because throwback Nirvana shirts were popular for us Gen Xers and our children.
I then told her the story about how Matt and I saw the Red Hot Chili Peppers perform at the Unicorn in Houston in 1991. The opening act was a new band called Pearl Jam, and that there was a photo published in a music magazine from that concert where Eddie Vedder was crowd surfing. The photo was taken as Eddie was above yours truly, and we were grasping each other’s hands.
Mara said, “I can’t believe you’ve never told me that story before!” And we listened to the Foo Fighters on the way home from the grocery story.
I reached the age of 50-years-old yesterday. Austin and Central Texas were hit with a punch winter storm that brought a bunch of sleet, ice and below-freezing temperatures, so we’d been kind of hunkered down since Saturday. Schools and my office were closed on my birthday because of the freezing temperatures and ice.
Turning 50 wasn’t a big deal. I don’t like making a big deal out of my birthdays anyway. I think Elise and I threw parties for each other when we both turned 30. I don’t know about her, but after that, I was kind of done with any kind of parties or recognition. Even going out for a nice dinner just seemed unecessary and hinging on obsessive. IN fact, I think the best birthday present I’d received in years was the one I gave myself late last week when I finally decided to figure out how to hide my birthday on Facebook. I didn’t get a single “Happy Birthday, Josh! ???” post on my wall and that was glorious. I wish I would’ve done that years ago. I don’t like the attention.
I woke up around 4:30 a.m. It was too cold and icy to go for my usual pre-5 a.m. run, so I drank my coffee, caught up on emails and family finances and ate half a bagel. I paced around the house a lot. I sat on the couch around 8:30 or 9:00 and started reading my book, and then I took a nap. When I woke up, a lot of the ice outside had started melting so I went for a run on the trails in Circle C.
I came home, showered, ate leftovers, tried to read more of my book, and took another nap on the couch. That was me indulging on my 50th birthday.
We had a quiet afternoon and evening at the house, just Elise, Mara, and me. We had lasagna for dinner. Elise made a chocolate cake for me. We topped the cake with some java chocolate chunk ice cream.
A lot of text messages and well wishes came in throughout the day. Many asked how I felt about turning 50. To me it’s just a number and a date on a calendar. I’m not much different than I was 5 years ago.
Although I guess I am in a new age division for racing now. ?
I prefer warmer temperatures, but I was born in the dead of winter.I was born at 2:51 p.m. I made sure I was outside.It’s become somewhat of a tradition to take a photo on my birthday with Mara and Maly. Here we are. One of us is in Charleston, WV.
I like to think I do a lot of stuff on any given day. And this past Monday, after I finally sat down on the couch in the evening I realized that I’d been going non-stop and on my feet for 18 hours. So on Tuesday I thought I’d try to document my day, which usually starts before 4:00 a.m.
I realized a couple things. First and foremost, my favorite part of the day is the really early hours in the morning. I try to get out of the house for my run before 5:00 a.m. I love the peace, quiet, and solitude. It’s just me and my thoughts. It’s just me versus the ground and my own head trying to trick me into thinking that what I’m doing is too hard.
I also realized that I’m not a “content creator.” There’s too much to see and do and experience than waste time with obsessing over documenting everything.
I tend to get very reminiscent and nostalgic this time of year. Especially this year. I remember this time last year because I was really in a funk with my job and I was hell bent on finding a new job. It was our first Christmas after Maly had moved to Charleston to go to school. It was kind of a off Christmas time, mainly because of the weather.
Maly goes back to school on the 10th of this month. That’s in 5 days, and I’m making myself concious of that.
When she left home for Charleston in August of last year I got really depressed. And it lasted for a really long time. It probably wasn’t until we were talking about and making the plans for her to come home for Thanksgiving that I was able to get my head out of the fog.
And then she was home for the Christmas break, and then had to leave again to start the Spring semester, I’d learned to don’t make it sad. Shortly after she’d returned to Charleston I started a new job that I got excited about and enjoyed, and that kept me busy, occupied and fulfilled. When you’re at a job you don’t like it’s really easy to let your mind get buried in those dark places.
And then she was home for the entire summer, and then had to leave again to start her Sophomore year, I’d wisened up quite a bit. I knew I’d need to do something to keep my mind (and hands) occupied. So I took up welding. The morning that she backed out of the driveway to drive herself across 5 states to go back to college I just started getting busy. I didn’t even walk back into the house after she drove away. I just started cleaning the garage. Elise started watering plants. Honestly, I think Elise and I were avoiding making eye contact because we both needed our own moments, otherwise if we’d looked at each other we both would’ve started crying and become useless bumbling idiots. I repurposed an old tool box and organized all of my drive sockets and then I started designing and fabricating the metal patio table and benches.
I have some welding project ideas. And some woodworking and epoxy project ideas. And there are always things to get rid of. I think I’m just learning that I’ll have to get busy getting busy.
I was thinking about titling this post something like “2025 turned out pretty okay” but figured I’d be more forward thinking than reflective. But this is very much a reflective recollection.
I woke up this morning with what I’d guess would be sense of gratitude. Or maybe contentment. And I think that really just boils down to me not being depressed right now. I’m thankful and very congizant of the fact that I’m not depressed right now, and that’s been a very welcome departure from more years than I care to recount past.
2024 was a really bad year for me. It started very early on in January when arguably one of the worst bosses I’ve ever had fired me for no cause. And that really sucked because she fired me from a job that i was really enjoying — working at the local run club. I still resent her for that and I’m very much aware that that feeling isn’t healthy. And maybe (hopefully) that’ll be one of the positive things that I can work on and acomplish in 2026. Forgiving and forgetting, or something like that. I don’t let what happened eat at me regularly, but every once in a while that time in my life crops up in the ol’ memory and I’ll get a bit steamed about it all over again and, as they say, I’ll let it live in my head rent-free.
In the first week of 2025 I was informed that aforementioned boss was fired. And I’d be lying if I said that the news didn’t give me pleasure and gratification, and that it wasn’t deserved, but I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Probably because I’m empathetic after having lost my share of jobs. But I’d also be lying if I said that didn’t start the year on a positive note.
The beginning of 2025 was depressing though. We had Christmas here in Austin with Steve and Joanne, and while they welcomed the weather, the weather was miserably warm and not Christmas-like at all. that first week in January Mara and I were reflecting on how it just hadn’t felt like Christmas that year. Thanksgiving and Christmas were really close to each other. It didn’t get cold at all in Austin, and it just felt pretty ho-hum.
Maly went back to Charleston for school shortly after the new year and I got really depressed after she left. She’d left in the fall to start her college career 1,300 miles away and it was so tough learning to live and adapt without her being around. And then she was home for a month for the holidays and it was like all was fixed and normal and my baby was home again. And then she had to leave again. I had to wake up from a good dream.
And when I woke up, everything had to go back to norming. Maly was gone, 1,300 miles away. Mara had to go back to school. Elise and I had to go back to work. It’s like the lights flipped on and someone screamed, “Okay, fun’s over. Get back to work. The beatings’ll stop when morale improves.”
It hit me pretty hard because over the holidays I usually get pretty introspective and existential. And a lot of what bounces around in my head are ponderings on creating core memories for the girls and am I do enough for and with them and am I really present and am I happy, content and fulfilled with what I’m doing with my life. And there’s usually a lot of weight on the latter.
It started hitting me around Thanksgiving that I wasn’t enjoying the job that I’d been at for about five months. And that was frustrating and depressing in its own right. My whole team had been laid off in early 2021 from a job that I’d been at for over seven years, and from a job that I’d had no plans to leave. And then rug was pulled out from underneath me. And then that led to period in my life’s timeline where I’d be unemployed, and stressed about finding a job, and then finding a job and either get laid off again or finding myself unhappy and unfulfilled, and the cycle was repeating itself every six months. Like clockwork.
And here it was again, at the six month mark and I knew in my mind — I’d already drawn the line in the sand — that I wasn’t meant to be at this job. But I also knew what I was up against. The tiring and frustrating task of looking for a job, sending my resume, not hearing back from companies about jobs for which I knew I was well-qualified.
I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the Monday that things went back to normal. Maly was back in Charleston. Elise went back to work. I walked Mara to school for her first day back from Christmas break. I sat at my desk and clocked in (this job required that I clocked in. And I’d already gotten slapped on the wrist for clocking in too early. And then again for clocking in too late) and that’s when the fire in my belly got really hot. I decided I was going to find a new job. And I was going to do it really fast. And I was not going to get yet another sales, account managment, or customer success job. So I omitted Indeed and LinkedIn from my job search toolbox.
I found a job on, of all places, Facebook. It was in a neighborhood “job board” Facebook group. I reached out to the person who’d posted the job that Monday morning. We scheduled an interview for the next day (Tuesday). I had a job offer on Wednesday.
That really kickstarted 2025 into being a pretty kickass year.
I’ve always maintained this internal, quiet tenet of not letting a job define who you are. I feel that we’re all much more than what we do when we exchnge our time for money. But, if I’m being honest about it, most of us have to work something like 40 hours per week doing the things that we do with our time in exchange for money. And if you’re unfulfilled when you’re burning that time, then you really should find something else. I feel strongly that time is our greatest asset. There really isn’t a whole lot of it when you think about it.
Anyway, I guess I wanted to document how I felt this morning. The Sunday before I guess the holidays are really over. The last weekend before we’re well into January, girls go back to school, work gets back into full swing, and things get back to “normal,” until the next time. I think I’m guity of not taking pause and sitting in the moment when the moment is good. I tend to get caught up when things aren’t going well, or when things aren’t going the way I’d planned or, even better, the way I’d like them. And I have to remember that I can only control what I can. And, as mom used to tell me, it takes your bad days to know what your good ones are.
Here are some photos from what think were some good times this past year.
