Almost heaven, West Virginia

This past weekend, we traveled west, young man. And it was a stinking blast. 

Gorgeous mountains 

Foggy views day 2 and 3. Who cares? It was still gorgeous.

Cutie pies. 

The mountainside.

Where we spend 75% of our time. I still smell like fire. 

Love love love

Our cute little cabin!  Please pardon the trash can. :)

The 6 of us!

Boys being... woodsman?

I have no words for the next 4 photos. 

Day 2 was cold an rainy, so we went to Seneca Caverns. We had to wear hardhats.  And look like dummies. 

Daggum cuties

Frame worthy

Of course we can't take a normal picture. Jeff is head butting me here.  Excellent.  

Da boyz

Walking into the hole. Literally. 

The "grand ballroom". Commence panic attacks. 

We ate, we laughed, we napped and then ate some more. I can't wait until our next trip!

Foggy

For the past two weeks, I have experienced some serious doubt.  It is the kind that comes creeping in like a heavy fog and just lays on a person.  Its a fog of doubt. Its a doubt fog. Its a foudt.  It sucks.

During this foubt, I have been questioning myself about work, at home and even with running.

It does not help that running has become a HUGE annoyance to me.  I wake up at 5:30am and I just don't want to go.  Like- would rather drink toilet water if it means I get to go back to sleep- don't want to go.  Like- would love to Bill and Ted back to the day I signed up for the race and punch myself in double chin- don't want to go. Like- can't think of a third thing to list here, dagumnit- don't want to go.  

While I fully expect an upswing in my mood around 5 days to go, the next 16 days until the race are going to be touch and go at best. 

Lucky for me, husband, sister, sister's boyfriend, and our friends who moved to West Virginia, are all meeting in the middle of no where to just hang out and wear flannel.  I can't wait to either be killed by a masked murderer or regain my sanity in our mountain cabin.  Both are very real possibilities in the hills of no-where. 

I would very much like to be back to myself soon.  I'm guessing I've got a few things to learn during this so called fog, and since I have not learned much (other than how to muddle through these days clinging to God's promise that he is always here with me),  I'm sure the fog won't lift anytime soon.

Oh wait-- maybe that was it.  Shoot. I'll be sure to let you know. 

The Day I Smartmouthed a Drill Sergeant

I think I'll display unflattering photos of my half marathons for giggles.
Glad you could stop by... wanna see me jiggle?

Have I mentioned that I run with the ROTC every morning at 6am?  Well, not with them so much as right next to them on accident.  This morning was no different. Except that I may have mouthed off to one of them.

I didn't mean to. I was half asleep and wholly exhausted.

I think Mr. Drill Sergeant was wishing I was one of his plebes (is that what they call them?) so he could make me do 4,000 push ups and what ever other punishment he could think of. Or ask me out.  Those guys like strong ladies, right?

Just kidding, Romeo, I'm married.

Every morning when I see those ROTC kids out there, I want to thank them and also tell them that my brother is at West Point, but I don't dare.  First because I seriously  doubt they care, but also see above re: exhaustion.

Alright kids, off to wash the hair dye out.  Let's go blonde again, shall we?