He found me, read my resume, and emailed me asking for help.  He’s a MPA student from UGA, and he’s looking for an internship. And in this economy, getting an internship is like being the new kid at school. The upperclassmen always win. Hell, I’ve even found myself looking at internships. (grumble, grumble, spit).  Apparently, something in my writing or my resume, or maybe just our common experience as MPAers made him think I’d be able to help him. HA!

We finally set up a call for today. He wanted to know how I got my internships (my resume is riddled with them). I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to tell him. I mean, it’s hard to tell someone, “I got the job because I knew someone who knew someone who introduced me and then I badgered them into hiring me.” Or, “Sometimes people assume that I know more (and have more experience) than I actually do, because I happen to be in the right places at the right time, then I get the chance to prove myself.” But it’s true. My professional life is a series of coincidences, with me talking my way into good situations, without a plan, a business card or a resume handy. I just show up, and good things happen.

I think that’s why I haven’t been able to find something really great in Atlanta. I don’t know where I need to be, (or I do, but I don’t have the guts to ACTUALLY SHOW UP.) I don’t know who I need to talk to (or I do, but I feel that I’m bugging them all the time. I don’t know what I need to say (because I don’t want to sound stupid, or worse, desperate). Sending out cover letters, emails, and the ordinary run of the mill job search stuff just isn’t working for me. This summer, I’ve realized that ordinary cover letters will get you an ordinary job. And I’m too…much… to have an ordinary job.

I asked the kid today what would be his ideal internship. And like I figured, it’s not something that you find in the yellow pages. So I didn’t tell him to scour indeed.com, idealist, or opportunityknocks like I have been doing all summer.  I told him about a fellowship that I knew he could apply for (along with 100’s of other MPAers).  But I told him to hang out in the alumni and career services office at UGA, and connect with alums that are working in Atlanta in his interest area. I told him to brush up on his association memberships (and GO TO MEETINGS and talk to people).  I told him to call everyone he knows that is currently working, and tell them what he’s looking for. I even gave him the names of some of my favorite Atlanta organizations, with instructions to call and ask for informational interviews.  Then I told him to call me back in a couple of weeks and tell me what he’s learned. (What can I say, I liked the kid and I want to help him.)

Over the course of the conversation, it slipped out that I’m unemployed (oops, did you know that?). And he flipped the switch on me by asking me what I’m looking for? Hmmm. Ideally, I’d like to work with a non-profit or community organization doing grassroots community development work. I want to develop programming for community building, volunteerism, arts and business related stuff, do some strategic long-term community planning/visioning, and also be able to talk to people about living their best lives. I want to keep one foot in the MPA waters, while also dipping my toes in the ministerial pool.

I didn’t tell the kid that because I just figured it out when my fingers typed it.  But he knows me from the blog, so he knows what I think about. And he gave me the names of a couple of organizations to stalk and they are right up my alley.  And he totally turned me on to following companies on LinkedIn, where I’ve already found a few people that I should know (and located my people who already knows them)

Who knows, maybe by (hopefully) helping this kid land a gig, I help myself to one too.

It is officially hot as blazes in Atlanta. That means near-hell temperatures, and the sun reflecting off of any surface, except the black asphalt trails and streets that I run on—those absorb the heat, and are hot enough to cook bacon and eggs. And oh, my. Any hint of moisture in the air steams before it hits the ground. Makes me feel like a lobster in a pot.

And yet I run on.

And Whine

I have noticed that I’m a much slower runner than I was in 2007 when I ran the Race of the Cure in 35 minutes. (brushing my shoulder off) This year, I’m doing good to run those same 3.1 miles in 45 minutes or an hour.

It’s not all the weather’s fault. I’m old (relatively) and way out of racing shape. A podiatrist recently told me at a running clinic that every running step I take, I’m placing 3.5 times my weight’s worth of pressure on my feet, ankles and knees. I can’t do that math, but that’s a mighty big number.

No wonder I hurt.

Good news

I found some cheap dryfit clothes at Wal-mart. The shirt $7 and the capris were $11!!! So at least I’m cute when I sweat like a horse. The clothes also wick away the moisture and keep me cooler and lighter than cotton.



Aren't I cute in my Danskin?

I’m posing to let you know how crazy hot it was!

And my feet are hurting less (Thank you Big Peach!) or maybe my endorphins kick in fast enough that I don’t notice the pain. I’ve found some decent stretches for my tight hamstrings and calves, and I’ve stopped being embarrassed that I have to stop every now and then to stretch everything out.

And I resurrected my P90X X-Stretch DVD as a cross-training day workout.

Yay for increased flexibility.

Something I’ve re-learned

I had forgotten how much easier and nicer it is to run when I’m with a group. Having someone to talk to, or in my case, listen to, makes the runs breeze by.  For the past couple of weeks during the Team in Training group runs, I’ve found myself running with a partner or with a group. Constant chatter is very good at blocking out the pain associated with running in 98 degree heat.  Once or twice I’ve found myself saying—It’s ALREADY time for our recovery walk?

Crazy I know.

This is me after running on my least favorite course, in 90+ degree weather.

It was during this run that I increased my pace from a 2 minute run/ 2 minute walk to a 3 minute run/ 2 minute walk. Was sore for 3 days, afterward.  Danskin pants, old as dirt Gap Body cotton tank.  Somehow still able to smile and pose for the camera, ha!

I’m currently training for a marathon and raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  To help me meet my fundraising goal, consider donating on my Team in Training page. Together we can out-run blood cancers.

On June 7^th I got an email from Team in Training. It was the speaker from the kick-off party.  She was apologizing for her behavior at the June 5^th run. Apparently, she “blubbered like a baby” (her words). She was crying because she got the news that the friend that she had talked about during kick-off  had lost her fight with cancer. Now my team mate would be running in memory of, instead of in honor of.

Whenever I see racers running in honor or memory of someone, I am reminded of the two years that I volunteered with Race of the Cure in North Carolina. I was a race day volunteer, mostly I directed runners to the port-o –potties, racers to their particular starting lines, and others to whatever places they were looking for. Sometimes I would just stand around and smile, and try to be of service. It was during those times that people would ask me to help them pin their race numbers, and other tags.  Many had “in honor of” and “in memory of” tags and lists of the people they knew who were fighting or had lost their fight with cancer. Throughout the day, I found myself crying along with people I didn’t know, how could I not, when in the presence of such fighters?  And with the memories of the fallen held closely in the minds of all.

Everywhere there were beautiful bald people, recent survivors; some there to run, others there just to celebrate another day, month, year. They had their own special tag, I felt honored to pin those tags on their backs. My mother was there, both years, walking in memory of her mother who died from brest cancer when I was two.  I was so thankful to have my mommy nearby.

As an African-American, there are lots of diseases that I’m more at risk of. Heart disease, diabetes, heart attacks, strokes, and alcoholism all run rampant on both sides of my family. I’m a stickler for healthy eating and exercise. But my vigilance to these diseases are nothing in comparison to need I feel to beat the shit out of cancer—any kind of cancer.

When I found Team in Training, I wasn’t looking for a new way to fight cancer, but I must admit that knowing that the money I raised would go to cancer research, treatments, and to help families survive while their loved ones fight for their lives, totally made the whole idea of marathon training bearable. I mean, it seems that it’s the very least I could do.

I’m really, really, REALLY nervous about raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  So far I’ve raised a wooping $35 dollars. And my goal is $4,000.  But I everything in my being, even at the end of a really hard run, tells me that I’m doing the right thing.

I thank God everyday that my family is free of cancer, but I run on for a cure to help those families that aren’t so lucky.

Do you have a connection to cancer? Tell me about it in the comments

Team in Training raises money for blood cancer research.  I’ve joined their fight.  Help me meet my fundraising goal, consider donating on my Team in Training page. Together we can outrun blood cancers.

Some people, I’m sure, slide out of their mother’s womb knowing what they want to be when they grow up.  Others, likewise, by age 3 or 4 have discovered a talent that has family members nodding and saying, “that child is destined to be a musician or an artist or a pro sports player or a stoner.” Maybe a few of us made the decision at 10 or 12 to be a doctor or lawyer or a business women that wears suits and high heels and makeup and tells people what to do.

What? Don’t  judge me! I wanted to be all those things.

My logic went a little like this: A. I’m smart B. Doctors are smart C. Doctors make a lot of money D. I want to make a lot of money. Conclusion: I’ll become a doctor.  That is, until I slashed my finger open one day while making lunch for my siblings, and nearly swooned at the sight of my own blood. Being a doctor was CLEARLY out.

I immediately latched on to another, slightly more realistic dream. Again, my logic  A. I have the gift of gab and I love to argue. B. Lawyers talk a lot and have to argue cases. C. Lawyers make a lot of money D. I want to make a lot of money. Conclusion: I’ll be a lawyer. I stuck with that dream until I clerked for a DA during an internship, and a judge for another. I just couldn’t come to terms with maybe accidentally one day sending an innocent person to jail. And civil law literally put me to sleep. Yes, Me asleep, snoring and drooling in the courtroom.

Maybe you, like me got all the way to high school without really knowing what you wanted to do with your life. Maybe you found it hard to conceptualize how to transform a love or skill in writing, or reading, chemistry, history or trigonometry or art into a career.  Especially when one is smart.

When one is smart, one goes to college, period. (At least that’s what “they” say.)

Maybe you aren’t “smart” so you didn’t go to college.  You stay at home and work at the grocery store, or the mall, or maybe you get a job working for your mother’s friend’s dad. Or maybe you have a skill that you’ve picked up over the years that people will pay you for. Or you join the military.

For a second, let’s imagine that you took your smart self to college the way I did. Still not knowing what you wanted to do with your life.

Maybe you, like me, pick a major because it sounds good to the parents. International Business/French, anyone? That is, until you actually get in a French class and BOMB it. Or maybe you select Political Science because you can always decide to go to law school later, right? Until you realize that Poli Sci is just as boring as that civil law internship. Or organic chemistry forces you to reconsider that pre-med major.

Maybe you are an artist or a writer at heart, but “everyone” knows that majoring in Art or Design or Creative Writing or English won’t make you rich.

Maybe you follow your heart and major in English anyway.

Or maybe you discover that you really like some other discipline like Sociology, History, Anthropology or Theology. You decide to major in that and see how it goes.

Or maybe you learned to turn that love of parabolas into a major in Economics. Which later turns into a job in a think tank, or a finance agency or some other economics place.

Maybe you really, really, really are going to be a doctor, lawyer or PhD of something and this BA is just step one. You slosh through, learning the basics, marching steadily towards your destiny.

Then

You graduate, still not knowing what you want to do. You get a job as a teacher or in a bank or as someone’s assistant. And you whine and complain and are miserable. Or Not.

Or

You write your book of short stories, poetry, or the next American novel.  Maybe you hole yourself up in your apartment (or your parents’ basement) and paint your heart out. Riches and Fame ensue. Or not.

Or

College helped you figure out what you are good at.  Maybe it’s leading a group, maybe it’s facilitation, maybe it’s bringing out the best in people—things you would never of found on your own.  Maybe you really want to make the world a better place. You still don’t know how to turn those skills/desires into a career, but you’ve got a start. And you did leave college with some transferable skills and a degree. For some jobs, that piece of paper is enough to get your foot in the door. For a while, you work doing something you kinda hate, getting “valuable” experience (and growing your bank account, hopefully) biding your time before you break out of your cube and do something that you really enjoy.

Or maybe you just say fuck it, and leave college Kanye West style. You discover the internet, and decide to be a marketing guru. Or you learn HTML and become a web designer. Or you self-study something else and find that you’re good at XYZ and convince someone to pay you to do that without a degree. Or you go home and get a job at the mall, grocery store or with your brother’s girlfriend’s mom. Or you go to technical school and become a car mechanic or a plumber.  Or you join the military.

Or you go study abroad in France because you are DETERMINED to learn French. You like it there and NEVER COME BACK. Wine and baguettes, anyone?

Maybe college isn’t right for you. Maybe it is.

Maybe college is the place that focuses you so that you can figure out how to transform your talents/skills into a career.

Maybe college is the lightbulb that illuminated quickly and clearly what you’re life’s path is.

Maybe college is just another 3-5 years of school, and at the end you graduate still completely clueless. Or you graduate, knowing you’ve got 8+ more years of schooling ahead of you.

You know what?  You get to CHOOSE.

You can choose to go to college or not.

You can choose make a successful life for yourself with or without a degree. Or not. [And you CAN be successful without a degree.]

If you go to college- you can choose to major in something that makes lots of money or not. And may or may not make you miserable.

If you go to college- you can choose to major in a liberal art that doesn’t immediately translate into big bucks or not.

You can graduate and end up in a dead end job or unemployed or not.

You can graduate and do that THING that will make your life worth living. Or not.

You can graduate and continue to figure out what you want to do with your life.

You can graduate, get a job, follow the rules and have a stable traditional career. Or get laid off. Or not.

You can be whiny, complain-y, entitled, and bored, all while you sit on your ass.  All while you do ANY of the other things above.

Or not.

You CHOOSE.

College isn’t the Matrix. Choosing the red or green pill won’t change your life like magic (in most cases). But YOU can change your life like magic. So don’t blame college. Don’t blame your parents. Don’t blame your weed-head roommate. If you didn’t get what you wanted out of college, blame yourself. Clearly you didn’t make the right decision

So now you work your ass off, using what you’ve got. There’s still time for fame, riches and success.

As the speaker left the podium and walked down the aisle by me. I took a close look at her face. She didn’t look like any cancer patient I’d ever seen. She had great hair, and appeared to be at a normal weight. In fact, I likely wouldn’t have pegged her as a cancer survivor out of a line up.

Not only is she a cancer survivor, she a half-marathoner.  She’s pushing herself this season, and running the Nike full in honor of her friend. And she’s fast! Whenever I’m in the back of the pack, complaining about the hills or the heat, I remember her struggle and push on. I’m totally in awe of her.

I’m currently training for a marathon and raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  To help me meet my goal, consider donating on my Team in Training page. Together we can out-run blood cancers.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying “Buying running shoes doesn’t make you a runner. Going for a run, makes you a runner.” I want to kick whoever said that in the face. Yeah, going for a run without proper shoes makes you a runner. A runner with hurt arches and shin splints. Ouch!

I started my marathon training running with shoes that are two summer old;  shoes that I wore around campus in graduate school.  Shoes that I wanted to get my money’s worth in, since they were $100 shoes.

Unfortunately, running shoes have a shelf life of 500 miles.  And while I haven’t run consistently over the past two years, I’ve totally past the 500 mile marker.  And much as I’d rather put that $100 towards meeting my 4k goal, last week I realized that I wouldn’t be able to run another week in those shoes.. After a painful 2.4 mile run last Thursday, I’d had enough. It was time for new shoes.

I bought them last Friday. Here they are.

And since my trainers have a saying, “cotton is rotten”, I traded in my cotton Gap Body lounge pants for some Nike dryfit shorts. Check out my  legs in these! And speaking of my gorgeous gams, nothing is worse that chubby thighs rubbing together. So I picked up some anti-chafing cream.  (Hhhmmmm, doesn’t that sound sexy?!)  It’s in the top of the box.

This is me after giving the shoes a test drive on Saturday.

Note the post-run red Gatorade!

The new shoes felt great during the run, but soon after that picture was taking, my left foot started to cramp and hurt. I took the new shoes back on Memorial Day.  Apparently I have extremely low arches. Big Peaches fitted me with new shoes, and they feel great so far!

On to week four!

I’m currently training for a marathon and raising money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  To help me meet my goal, consider donating on my Team in Training page.

Last week I spent some time in a bridal shop getting a dress altered for a wedding that I’m in. Standing still while letting someone poke straight pins into a garment that you are wearing is awkward and uncomfortable.  The seamstress was tried to engage me in small talk to distract me. All the normal topics were covered; where to you live, where do you work, what do you do, what do you think about this weather, so on and so forth.

As she’s talking, all I can think about is how hot I am, and how much hotter it will be at the wedding. Within just a few minutes, I could feel the backs of my knees starting to sweat, the little rivulets running down to my ankles and pooling in the back of the slingback sandals that are a part of the wedding ensemble.

Finally I cut her off. I could no longer take standing there, feeling the sweat move down my leg but unable to wipe it way and answer her well meaning, but meaningless questions.

I remembered that she told me she lived far outside the city, yet her shop was in the heart Buckhead’s high-end shopping district.  For sure, I said, your commute must be horrible.  Why is your shop here and not closer to home?  She told me how her shop had moved over the years, and how this seemed to be the best location.  It was an entertaining conversation (for me, at least).  Afterward, we lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Her husband, who was sewing in the back, must have overheard my question.  He came to the front of the shop and asked me for my name.  I told him.

He asked, “You want to know why our shop is here?”  I nodded.

“It is here because God wanted it.” He went on to tell me how he and his wife and children had emigrated from Costa Rica 38 years before.  He told me how they prayed for 20 years for a shop of their own.  He told me how they had started shops in several locations, but had moved for one reason or another.

He told me how they prayed for their current location, and how the nice Jewish man who owned the building (his words) had rented to them—for less money—than was offered by the other people who were vying for that spot.  He told me how similar businesses around them are suffering or closing and how blessed they are that their business is still strong.  He is convinced that the shop’s placement and success is solely based on their strong prayer and belief.

He told me how God wanted them in that particular location so that he could help people. He talked about all the people, physically and emotionally hurting, that he gets to meet and pray for.  He showed me the bottle of oil that he uses to anoint people.

Seeing the bottle of oil made me nervous. I know better than the play with matters of the Spirit.  What if he wanted to pray for me? What if he prayed in Spanish and I didn’t know what he was saying? What would he expect me to do? I don’t know if he wanted to anoint me, he didn’t ask and I didn’t volunteer. Maybe he knew that I was willing to absorb his story, but I wasn’t ready to participate in any public prayer.

I don’t know what, if anything, that whole exchange means. I am my mother’s child, and events like this are just another day in her life. Special, but certainly not rare.  But it gave me goose bumps as it happened to me. Maybe I’m more receptive to these things since I opened myself to religious and spiritual study and contemplation. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.

My heart says, “Surely, it must mean something!” I believe that everything happens for a reason. There are no coincidences; there are no chance happenings. I believe the world is full of signs to guide our paths; we just need to keep our eyes and hearts open.  We must be willing to see and believe.

So I’m open, and I’m listening, and now, finally, I think I’m getting my faith back.

Last Thursday, I ran into my homeless lady friend as I was leaving work. I had a few bags of chips in my lunch bag, so I figured I’d stop and say hi, and give her some food.  As I approached her, I smiled and asked her how she was doing.  She looked back at me funny. I could tell she was thinking about how to answer that question. Usually she just answers fine, but this time I sensed that she had something else to say. Finally she smiled, and told me she was doing well.  Then she smiled brighter, stood up excitedly and said that she had something to show me.

Needless to say, I was surprised and curious and a little bit scared. I had NO IDEA where this was going. This is not the way our normal conversations go.

She pulled a flyer out of her bag, turned to a page, jabbed her finger on the page and thrust it under my nose. I could tell it was an order of service for a church, and I had a good idea where she got it.   I decided to be quiet and let her tell me what she wanted me to know.

She told me that she was on the worship committee, and was pointing to her name. I allowed my eyes to focus on the words that were floating very close to my face and I saw that her name is Angela.  I spoke her whole name out loud and she smiled even brighter. She went on to tell me what she does at the church and where the church was located. She pointed away in a direction several times.  She wanted to make sure I knew it was across the street from the Capitol.

Angela attends a downtown church that also has a homelessness advocacy and support center.  I knew about her church because I’ve often passed it on my way to the Capitol; at first I was surprised and curious by all the homeless people lounging on the church steps until I discovered the community center in the back.

Most recently I found out that Angela’s church is one of the ministerial sites that I could work at this fall as an MDIV. Her church was one of my top picks until I found out that the work hours would be 8am-noon. I am not a morning person, and couldn’t see myself being there in the right frame of mind that early in the morning.

Talking to Angela has led me to reconsider my placement. She felt strongly enough about it that she needed to tell me where she goes to church.  She need to share with me how, she, who lives under the overpass, is active, involved, and excited about her church.  It is clear that this church MEANS something to her, and probably lots of other homeless people downtown.  I almost passed up an opportunity to work with a very vulnerable population because the work hours weren’t ideal

And the universe smacked my upside my head. Thanks God, for the sign.

Signs are everywhere. Keep your head up.

Some time ago I got a free audio version of Seth Godin’s book Tribes. Yes, I know I’m a book behind. I’m a big fan of free and I haven’t found a free version of Linchpin and I haven’t won one on any of the giveaways I’ve entered over the past few months.  AND the GF says I have a problem and need to stop buying business books.  In fact, when we have dates in bookstores, she doesn’t let me play in the business/self-help section.  She says that I need to stop researching and start doing.  She’s right, but I’m comfortable researching. Research isn’t scary. Shipping is.

At least a year ago I got a hold of a link to Tribes, and I just started listening to it. Every morning for the past week or so, I listen to this book as I brush my teeth and get dressed before work. Every morning for 20 minutes I listen and I get so inspired that I go to work and write do work stuff.

Since I’m not allowed to read/buy self-help/business/entrepreneur books, I feed my habit with blogs and download free teleseminars. One of my favorite business/entrepreneur blogs is Naomi Dunford at IttyBiz. I join all her mailing lists; I stalk her blog and twitter. I’m constantly on the lookout for free Naomi stuff. I lust after her products. I think she’s a brilliant writer and a compelling salesperson.  In fact, I love her so much that I actually bought a relatively cheap  monthly subscription to her Speakeasy product. Even when I was jobless and almost homeless last year, I faithfully paid Naomi.  I’m not mad about it. I got a lot of value from it, even though I didn’t really actively participate that much.

So I trust Naomi, right? If she tells me something is good, I believe her.  When she recommended Ideaschema Idea Catalyst Kit, I jumped. Especially since I like Megan’s writing style and I like the idea of becoming an idea machine. I listened to Megan’s audio on walks after work and felt really inspired and would come home and write. I recommend this product. If you want to be an entrepreneur or creative and want to buy an info product, I suggest you buy this one. And this isn’t an affiliate link.

So when Naomi recommended Question the Rules, I took a look.  I’ve been reading Johnny Truant since The Economy is not Happening. and I think he’s hilarious and earnest. I’d listened to a Jam Session he did with Charlie Gilkey, and I liked that. So, I read Naomi’s recommendation, I checked out the product, and bought.

I don’t like it very much. Audio seminars generally follow a rhythm. You introduce the topic, outline what you want to talk about, talk about it, have some insights, summarize, and get off the phone. Not so with Question the Rules. The conversations sometimes kinda starts on topic, then they bumble from tangent to tangent.  Some of the conversations are extremely scattered, long-winded and pointless. Mostly, it seems like Johnny and Lee called some of their friends and had them talk about what they do.  The big revelation is that being an entrepreneur isn’t like having a 9-5 job. Well duh.

The best parts of the course? Sonia Simone and Chris Guillebeau.  And I could just read CopyBlogger and The Art of Non-Conformity to hear from them. Which I do.

So yeah. My suggestion is to skip the paid information products (especially this one) unless you’re looking for something that is very specific, like SEO, copywriting, how to launch or something that that.  Or you could just read Naomi or Dave Navarro.  If you are having issues with fear, or need some kind of support to help you change your lifestyle, you should be reading Jenny Blake or Havi Brooks.  If you need life coaching stuff, check out Jonathan Fields or Jenny Ferry.  They all have blogs that are awesome.

And if you want to listen to something on your ipod check out Audible’s self improvement section and just buy a business book.

You may be asking yourself why I’m telling you about this particular run….

This run was special. It was special because it’s the first group run I’ve been on in a long time, I met some really amazing new people and because….wait for it….wait for it…. WAIT FOR IT!!!!…….

Curious, yet?

I’m running a marathon in October.

GASP! Shock! WTF, Monica?  I know, I wasn’t expecting that either. It just kinda happened.

A few months ago I walked into a running shoe store, just to window shop and ended up having a conversation with the shop owner about different running groups in the area.  I missed running and wanted to find some people to run with a few times a week.  He gave a few names of groups none of which I contacted, and I promptly lost the list.

About a month ago, I clicked a link on something. I don’t know it if was twitter, email, facebook, or something else, but I landed on this site.  I was intrigued because with them because they have weekly group runs and they train runners for big (ie. long) races! It was exactly what I was looking for.

I went to an informational meeting to find out more about this organization.  I found out that Team in Training raises tons of money for the Lymphoma and Leukema Society by training athletes for marathons, triathlons and cycling races.  Their formula?  They train you to run, you raise money for the cause.

They showed me a list of races happening later this year and asked me to pick which one I wanted to run. They introduced me to some of the coaches and captains that I would be working with if I decided to join their group. Everyone was awesome and encouraging and I started to get carried away on the wave of their NICENESS.

But WAIT.

This wasn’t a casual thing where I could show up or not. They train serious MARATHONERS! And Holy crap, I’d have to raise money? I was thisclose to throwing up deuces and heading for the door. It all just seemed so hard and I’d have to make a commitment.

But the people were just so freaking awesome! After to talking to them individually and in groups, everyone really had me thinking that I could raise a boatload of money and run a freaking marathon! So I signed up. Color me carried away.

Last Saturday I had my first group training session. I ran 3 miles. Guess what? I didn’t die, and I met a group of great people.

It was great. So great that I ran 2 miles, 3 times this week.

I’d like you and the rest of the internet to be involved in all my super marathon action! I crave your encouragement and support. My fundraising minimum is $3900 but I hate the oddness of that number and want to raise $4000 dollars.

I know. Holy Crap.

But I keep trying to think about it in terms of 400 people giving me $10 each. I think all of us can swing that, right? And if it wierds you out to think about giving me money, you aren’t giving me money. You are helping to cure CANCER. And that’s a big fucking deal.

Here’s a link to the secure site where you can give me donations. And I would really love it if you could give me a donation (even a tiny one).  If I can’t raise the money, I can’t continue my training. And I really, really want to run a marathon. And hello, cure cancer in the process.

So click the link, make a donation and pass the link on to someone else in your social network. I appreciate your support!  And I will keep you updated.

Thanks, bunches.