I sat down six or seven times determined to write about 2013 or about my feelings on the arrival on 2014, but mostly all I managed to accomplish was writing curse words over and over and over again. Nothing I came up with was anything I’d want to say on the internet and really, it wasn’t even all that coherent.
2013 didn’t end the way I thought that it would and December wasn’t the month that I thought it was going to be – it was supposed to be this incredible thing, this culminating event of several long months, but then it wasn’t. It wasn’t all terrible – like everything, there was some good bits thrown in there too, but it’s been a hard few weeks and I’m feeling, to be completely honest, a little bit lost.
As disappointed as I am about how 2013 ended, I know that I did a lot of really amazing shit in 2013. I became a runner, for reals, in 2013, running two half marathons, some 10ks, 5ks and mud runs, set and broke a whole bunch of personal running records, and ran 750 miles over the course of the year. I read 51 books. I partially renovated one of my bathrooms. I went to Texas and Alabama and Florida and North Carolina and D.C.
I even got to pet a lion. And feed a buffalo.
I spent the final hours of 2013 surrounded by friends, good friends. Friends who are more like family than anything else, friends who make me come over for dinner on Christmas so I don’t have to spend the whole day alone, and really, the best part of 2013 has been the realization that I have some really fucking incredible friends. I’m a lucky bitch, to be loved by so many incredible and brilliant people.
I keep thinking about making a resolution or some such shit for 2014, that I should set some goals or throw out some grand, sweeping statement about how this year is going to be the year of SOMETHING, but I just can’t muster the energy.
I know I want to run more. Maybe I’ll run a marathon this year. Maybe I won’t. There will be more half marathons, more PRs broken, more time spent on the road, escaping.
I’d like to take the dogs for more walks. I’d like to read 50 books again this year. That was nice. I should probably finish renovating the bathroom upstairs and maybe add that second coat of paint to the downstairs bedroom.
I have all these other hopes too, these unmentionable, fingers-crossed sort of things that keep me from sleeping. I want to fix it. I want 2014 to be the year of the bounce-back, of everything returning to the way I know in my core that it should be. I want to wake up and not feel the terrible ache in my chest that’s been building there for months and I want to go a day without crying and without feeling like I’m losing the most important thing in my life.
So, yeah. 2014. Here’s to surviving the terrible, awful heartache that it’s probably going to be, to running more miles, crying fewer tears and surviving the mess.
“A smooth sea never made a skillful sailor.”