Fall, a Book & Ice Cream

I took the bus downtown today to a job interview.  It went pretty well and I think that lady liked me well enough, but what I liked most about taking a trip downtown, was taking the trip back. 

I ended up getting off the bus in Queen Anne, and I walked over to Kerry Park, where I took a few pictures of the skyline and then sat to read The Giver.  I haven’t read it since 6^th grade but I remembered loving it so I bought it used off Amazon.  (The used ones are the best since the pages are already crisp and smell a little dusty.) I’m already plowing through it at a phenomenal speed and it reminds me a bit of Thomas More’s Utopia.

I ended up pulling a bit of a Belle.  After I realized reading at Kerry Park wasn’t going to work to well, due to the various tourists having loud conversations around me (funny to think I used to be one of those), I picked up my book and began walking back to school.  Except I didn’t stop reading.  I kept reading, while I walked, and my nose was buried deep in my book. 

I wish I could say the leaves romantically crunched underneath my feet, but they more so squished than anything, due to how much rain we’ve been getting recently.  Regardless, it was still beautiful and hardly cold enough for a coat.

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At one point I remember looking up the street and seeing Molly Moons, a local ice cream shop with wonderful homemade ice cream.  I couldn’t resist walking in there and buying myself some, so I did just that.  Good ice cream is one of my week spots and I think I could eat it nearly every day if I had access to it.  My great-grandfather eats a bowl of ice cream every day and he’s 98 and still going strong.  Guess I know who I got my sweet tooth from.

After I purchased my ice cream, I put my book away and ate delicious mint ice cream as I walked back to school.  The temperature was perfect and I loved every moment of spending precious time on my own. 

I’ve realized that when I get time on my own, I’m happier and more willing to spend quality time with other people.  So today I took myself on a walk, with a book and ice cream.

Now I’m a happy girl.

An Abundance of Sweaters

This entire week I’ve been in process of moving back in.  I’m not anywhere close to being finished, but I am slowly and surely starting to get it done.  I have a lot of things to sort through in my room since my sister redid the room while I was gone and most of my things were put in plastic tubs.  I love how the new room looks, but I have to decide what I want to keep and what I should probably get rid of.

Yesterday I finally had the opportunity to do laundry.  Walking downstairs to the laundry machine and throwing things in without paying quarters was heavenly!  At school quarters were pretty much gold—if I ever found one it went directly into the laundry fund.  By the end of yesterday I had done $5.25 in laundry for free.  To be precise, that would be 3 washes and 3 dries worth of money. 

In the midst of laundry I realized something peculiar.  It seems like a lot of the clothing items I brought back are sweatshirts.  What was I thinking?  It’s been in the 80s and 90s since I got back and all I’ve worn are shorts and tank tops.  I could have gotten away with bringing only 2 or 3 sweatshirts back, but I probably brought closer to 10.  Right next to all my sweatshirts were several pairs of jeans, which I haven’t worn yet either.

Then it hit me.  I’m more used to the weather in Seattle than Colorado.  That just proves I haven’t been home in quite some time, and I’ve now realized how different the weather is between my two states. 

In Seattle it’s all about the layers.  In Colorado you have short sleeve shirts, long sleeve shirts, and sleeveless shirts.  And in the winter you have one giant winter jacket.  Otherwise, forget wearing more than one piece of clothing over the other.  (It was in Seattle that I finally understood what a cardigan was.)

Looks like all my sweatshirts and jackets are going to be hanging out in the closest for a while, which is totally fine with me.      

Once Upon a Time I Feared the Wind

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately.  Basically, I took last week off entirely.  Every once in a while I need a break, especially when finals hit.  I was busy writing a paper, and studying for Biology and Psychology tests.  I was finished by Wednesday afternoon, and by that time all I wanted to do was lounge around and do absolutely nothing.

I can’t even remember what I did during those last few days.  I watched a couple movies, cleaned up my room a bit, and packed a carry on for spring break that consisted of 3 pairs of jeans, 10 t-shirts, a jacket and some toiletries.  I was rather impressed that I managed to take hardly anything home with me.  I guess I’ve learned to pack light since I have to travel back and fourth so much.

The Colorado weather was absolutely gorgeous the first days I was back and I was able to wear shorts, a tank top, and flip flops to my brother’s baseball game on Saturday.  Yesterday, a mere three days later, it was somewhere in the 30s temperature wise and I kept my younger brother on my lap for warmth.

Colorado is incredibly fickle, not to mention extremely brown compared to Seattle.  I’ve decided I love both places for different things, but it’s also really hard to be switching all the time.  The first few days home were rough, but now that I’ve settled in I’m quite happy to be here.

I’ve already been to a choir concert for my brother, a few high school baseball games, and answered a billion college questions to whoever happens to ask about it, which is pretty much everyone who hasn’t seen me since winter break.

But that is merely an update.  There is one thing I want to write about specifically.  It happens to be the wind.  You might thing I’m joking, but it has been more than blustery lately, especially at night. Just a couple nights ago it was incredibly windy and my sister was begging me to allow her to open the window because our room was “stuffy”.  I felt absolutely fine, and I insisted that she shouldn’t open the window.  Please, please don’t open it, it’s windy.  I caught myself then and wondered, did I ever get over it? 

When I was younger I was terrified of the wind.  I was dreadfully frightened of it until 5^th or 6^th grade.  When it was too windy at night I would walk across the hall to my parents room and crawl into bed with them until I felt safe enough to return to my own bed. 

I was convinced the house would blow over, or that a tornado would sweep everything away.  I have reason to believe this fear developed when I first saw The Wizard of Oz at a young age.  It instilled a fear in me that could not be merely removed.  When I was in 1^st grade I told my teacher that a tornado was coming—I was frightened because of how windy it was outside.  She offered no sympathy.  She told me she was sure a tornado was not coming, and sent me trembling back to my desk.  Occasionally, tornados would turn my dreams at night into dreadful nightmares.  

There came a point when I tried once more to crawl in bed with my parents and they answered with a resounding No.  After that I took to hiding from the wind by burying myself in covers, clinging to my stuffed animals (of which there were several) and sleeping with my head under the pillow.

I’m not sure when my fear ended.  I don’t know if it ever did.  Maybe I just learned how to deal with it.  Occasionally I still wake up at night when it gets windy outside.  A huge boom of thunder won’t wake me, but a blustery windstorm somehow will.  I remember when I started to read books about weather.  I knew everything about the clouds, and precipitation, and I read a lot about tornados.  There were a few pages in my book specifically dedicated to them, and I must have read them dozens of times. 

The biggest fear is always the unknown, and once I learned about how tornados formed, where they occurred most often, and how much danger I was in, (practically none) I was able to relax.  It didn’t mean I was done being afraid, but it meant that I could move on instead of constantly being paralyzed.

It seems like kids are afraid of clowns, snakes, spiders, and the dark.  But, on the other hand, I was the only one I knew of to be afraid of the wind.  I know the wind makes some people uncomfortable, but not to the point when they can’t think of anything else. 

On the surface level I know I’ve gotten over it, but deep down it must be hidden.  I think I’m rather determined to keep it that way though.  Hiding from the wind at college would be rather embarrassing, so I don’t want to be doing that anytime soon.

I know I probably never will, but it’s interesting how that one event a couple nights ago caused me to remember a series of events I hadn’t thought of in years.

It makes me realize how far I’ve come.  I’m being totally serious.

From a tiny kid afraid of the wind, to a college kid willing to step into the world by writing her heart out every day. 

I’m done hiding under the covers.  

The Drawbacks of Growing Up

Seattle rain is similar to the rain in classic movies.  It falls straight down with no slant whatsoever.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s misting or pouring, it all falls directly toward the ground.  It’s rather uncanny and unsettling.

The way it’s raining right now makes it acceptable for people to pull out their umbrellas and rain boots.  Most of the time it just mists and I laugh at the visitors holding umbrellas over their head as if it were the end of the world.  Obviously, this won’t be the right place for you if you can’t stand a little moisture.   

The clouds that are squeezing out the rain frustrate me.  They are so thin I can almost see the blue behind them.  It makes me think they are about to disintegrate and let the sun take control. 

But I know they won’t. 

There is actually enough rain cumulating in the gutters to sail aluminum foil boats, something I haven’t done for years.  I was a pro at making them when I was younger, and I’m sure I’ve retained the talent. 

It’s just the matter of finding aluminum foil and finding someone to do it with.  Honestly, these moments cause me to miss my siblings the most.  I could easily drag one of them outside with me.  Other kids my age, not so much.

Oh, the drawbacks of growing up.       

Rants about Coffee, Snow, and the Sun

What better place to write than in a coffee shop?  Typical Seattle.

Today the sun decided to show its face and it was the perfect day to take a walk down the street to Tully’s, which is just far enough to make me feel like I’m escaping the SPU bubble.

This week has been crazy with the snow.  I’ve had no routine and no motivation to do homework—not to mention I’ve been surrounded by white walls that look like they want to swallow me.  (9 days of no class and hardly any chance to get off campus doesn’t serve me well.) 

My dorm room has turned me into someone that belongs in a crazy house.  I hadn’t reached the point quite yet where I wanted to bang my head against the wall but I was pretty close.  I ended up throwing a baseball indoors in the lounge with a couple guys from my brother floor last night because we didn’t have anywhere better to go and we needed to be active.  Just imagine us throwing a baseball with several huge glass windows waiting to be broken and some vending machines.  There are countless ways that simple game of catch could have gone wrong, so thank goodness nothing was shattered in the process. 

The best part were peoples’ faces when they walked through the lounge and saw what we were doing.  Priceless. 

I think I’m safe saying everyone has been restless.  Extremely restless. 

When the sun slowly peeked out from behind a cloud today my spirit immediately rose.  The sun wasn’t supposed to appear until next Friday, and when I found that out yesterday (meaning I would have had to wait for a week) I just about died.

But today God humored Seattle and let the sun shine.  I kept telling everyone I was ready for the snow to be gone and people kept saying, “But you’re from Colorado, you’re supposed to be used to this!”

Touché.  But it snows in Colorado and then the next day the sun comes out.  I’m not used to having the sun gone for three months straight. 

So now here I am, contentedly writing in a coffee shop and repeatedly looking out the window to check that the blue sky is still there.  Who knows when I’ll see it again?

Hm, I should probably start writing that paper I came here for in the first place.    

Snowpocalypse

This week I’ve been living in an uncanny winter wonderland.  It hasn’t snowed this much in Seattle since 1985, and no one knows what to do about it.

I’ve loved every second of it, especially since I’m from Colorado and 4 inches of snow in Colorado isn’t enough for us to even begin thinking about a snow day.  Try four feet and then we’ll talk about it.  Here, the Seattle governor has declared a state of emergency. 

Everyone here knows how to drive in rain, but once you throw slush and ice into the equation it’s a different story.  Not to mention Seattle is full of hills that are 30 to 40 degrees steep, which turns them into awesome sledding hills and danger zones once they’re covered.

The hill that everyone climbs to get to my dorm has become a sledding hill during the past 2 days.  People have been sledding in laundry baskets, large Tupperware, on trays from Taco Bell, and even “watch your step” signs that they stole from inside the dorm.  People have also had massive snowball fights that involve 50 or more people from all over campus. 

Basically, it’s been a huge party.  I haven’t had school in 6 days now, and if school gets cancelled for tomorrow I’ll have had 9 days off when I go back to class.

Yesterday I bundled up and went out to go sledding.  I ended up getting soaked but it was worth it in every single way.  As my friend Sarah put it, “If you put Elisabeth on the 6^th floor and snow on the bottom, a record will be set for the fastest a person has ever gone down 6 stories of stairs.” 

Since words hardly convey the joy of snow, I’ve decided to share pictures to continue the story.

The ends of a snowball fight that occurred below my window, making it impossible to study because all I wanted to do was watch! 

The hill in the bottom left of the picture is where everyone has been sledding for the past few days, not to mention accidentally slipping down while trying to walk to dinner.

Me with two of my closest friends at school taking some time to enjoy the snow!
 (Photo credit to Taylor M.H.E.) 

The graveyard behind SPU, covered in a beautiful and peaceful layer of snow.

I fogged up the window and drew some love.  What a beautiful day!

We Danced the Night Away

SPU weekends are often full of having nothing to do, which helps to explain why so many people go home.

There’s always the let’s watch a movie approach, but people get tired of that one pretty quickly.  I just finished The Hunger Games yesterday, which means that I currently don’t have a book to read and, if you know me well, I normally always have a book to read.  (By the way, there is something extremely unsatisfying about finishing a book on a Kindle because you can’t slam it shut with a sense of finality, but that’s a topic for a different time.) 

Next there’s the let’s play FIFA and 2k12 approach, which applies mostly to guys.  I tried playing 2k12 last night and I lost by 60 the first game and 50 the second game, which definitely leaves some room for improvement and I’m not really sure I care about improving.

My friend Googled “things to do when you’re bored” and lists of things showed up.  One of them was try swallowing your tongue, and it only took me 30 seconds to figure out I couldn’t. 

Point of the story is… everyone was way past the point of general boredom. 

So I immediately snagged the opportunity to go swing dancing when I found out a group of people were going.  My boyfriend, Will, was thrilled about getting off campus and definitely wanted to go, so we both ran back to our rooms and got dressed. 

Then we were off, driving into an unpredictable snowy Seattle wonderland.  It snowed yesterday for the first time since I’ve been in Seattle and, though most of it didn’t stick, people were afraid to go out.  It was as if a giant famine hit the city and left no survivors—our car seemed to be one of the only ones driving anywhere.  Seattle is beautiful when it’s glossed over with snow.  It’s frozen in time like a picture.  After we got out of the car I felt like I was walking through a world that didn’t exist.

Seattle doesn’t cope well with snow though.  In fact, it freezes over fairly quickly and with the amount of hills that it possesses, travelling or going out in general isn’t always the smartest idea.  We definitely witnessed a few people slip on the sidewalks while we were trying to find the Century Ballroom where we would be dancing.

We finally did, on the second floor of a building, and we walked in to be greeted by couples moving in a flurry of motion.  Swing dancing has many different styles and I’m sure at least 10 (maybe more) were present in that room.  Once you learn you start to develop your own, which means there are slightly different variations for every move and every step.

But the basics aren’t difficult and I spent the first 15 minutes or so teaching Will the simple step-step-back step-step-step-back step movement for our feet that would allow us to dance and then add on extra movements.  He was confused at first but caught on quickly and then observed the other people on the dance floor to see if he could learn what they were doing.

Spinning me proved to be a small obstacle and then we were doing the windmill and an arm slide (I’m not sure what else I should call it) and he was tipping me back at the end of every song.  He was determined to learn all of it in one night, which is impossible, but we agreed that we would definitely go again.

3 hours passed way quicker than they would have had we been sitting back at SPU trying to figure out what to do.  It seemed as if the night was over before it started.

We literally dance the night away.

I love that I can say that.  

Two Worlds

I’m back in Seattle (I have been for a few days now) and I haven’t had much to write about.  Funny thing is, I’m a firm believer in making myself sit down and write everyday because I need to keep the creative juices flowing.

But lately I haven’t been able to write a word, and I haven’t felt like writing a word.  And I’m not sure if it’s writers block or what it’s been.

Mostly I think I’ve been pondering the difference between the two worlds I’ve come to know—how easily they ebb and flow, begin, end, and then pick right back up where I left them.  Except I know that when I’m gone my family is changing and when I’m not at school the skies in Seattle will continue to shift and the rain will still fall.  (However, if there’s anything I hate missing, it’s a sunny day in Seattle.) 

These days I’ve been back have consisted of me getting myself together, setting into class, and organizing the notebooks and deciding what time I will set aside for blogging, studying, creativeness, socializing, sleeping, eating… you name it. 

Today it’s raining again and I’m sitting where I always do when I write, looking out the window at the world of gray and green, watching people walk around with their umbrellas. 

I’ve found that I’m comfortable transferring between the two worlds.  I love them equally and differently.  I do not dread them or despise the change.  Rather I embrace it.

This quarter will be interesting. I’m taking a psychology class, a UCOR class (required for freshman), and human biology.  Two of these can be considered science classes, and I swore off science the end of my junior year in high school.  Ironically, it now dominates my schedule. 

But I have extremely charismatic and passionate professors.  So far the first two days of classes have been interesting and I’ve paid attention.  The only thing I doodled was a star (an amazing feat, I must say).    

Which leads me to one of my biggest fears:  what if I actually like science?

When the World is Silent and I am Still

I love watching movies in the theatre late at night.  And I love having a couple of my best friends come along.  The company can make or break a movie, no matter how good or terrible it may be.

One of my closest friends brought some pain meds for me, since I had asked her to.  I came straight from babysitting and had a terrible headache from the dentist appointment I had earlier (which I survived, if you were curious—and my teeth have been decavitized…yes, I just made that word up on the spot). 

The movie, Sherlock Holmes, was highly enjoyable and I found myself captivated by the plot.  My favorite parts were probably the comic relief, because that’s simply the kind of mood I’m in.  I can stand the tension, but I would much rather laugh. 

After the movie was over the three of us split up to go home, one on her own and the other with me.  I had been exceedingly cold before entering the theatre but I was suddenly very content with the temperature of the frigid air and didn’t mind taking my time to get to the car.  (My poor friend was freezing so I quickly turned the heat on for her.) 

On the drive home we discussed friendships and how they’ve changed since we left high school, and how we must decide whom we really want to stay in touch with.  It’s a decision that’s been more prominent since we've been home and something that has been on my mind lately. 

After I dropped her off, and waited to make sure she was safely inside, I drove the 10 seconds down the street to my own house and parked in the same place I have for 2 years.  What Hurts the Most by the Rascal Flatts was playing on the radio and I sat in the car and sang along with it.  It's a song that has nothing to do with my life at the moment—I was surprised to find that I still knew all of the lyrics even though I probably hadn’t heard the song all the way through since sophomore year of high school. 

When it ended I turned the radio off, gathered my belongings, and stepped out into the winter air. 

All was silent. 

I began to walk across the snow but the crunching noise under my boots disturbed the soundless night. 

So I stopped and took my time to breathe and take in my surroundings.

I wasn’t cold.  Not in the least.  I watched as I blew a cloud of my breath into the air—it hovered before me, floated, then dispersed. 

I looked up at the cloudless night (something I’m still amazed by after spending a few month in Seattle).  It was breathtaking and beautiful.  I sought out the constellation Orion, and my eyes settled on the middle star. 

Mine.  I inwardly claimed it in 6^th grade. 

It remains constant and I love searching it out.  I love the summer, because it’s warm.  But I love the winter because my star is in the sky.  I’ve begun to notice the subtle tipping of the earth after all these years of looking for it.

So there I was, standing in the freezing cold, looking at the sky, breathing… and not wanting to move a muscle.

I felt as if I could lie down and sleep right there.  (However, my inner reasoning did manage to tell me that idea was anything but wise.)

For minutes, it was just me between the pavement and the stars.  No one else existed.  At one in the morning I doubt many other people were awake in my neighborhood.   

In music library in my head began to sing how great is our God, sing with me how great is our God, and all will see how great, how great, is our God. 

It’s the moments like that when I feel closest to Him.  It’s when I take the time to be still and to soak his creation in.

When I’m there I never want to leave.     

The Sound of Snow

This is the kind of weather that I love.

It’s the kind that allows me to drink hot chocolate,

Or build a snowman.

It’s the kind that lets me snowboard

Or sit by a welcoming fireplace.

It’s the kind that lets me catch a snowflake

On my tongue—and it’s the life in me

That makes it melt. 

It’s the kind that gives me the opportunity

To pave a completely fresh path on my own,

And it’s the kind that makes me feel

Anything but alone.

It’s also the kind that takes hardly an effort to paint,

And the kind that doesn’t have much color,

But it’s also the kind that makes the world

Look a little softer. 

It’s the kind that makes it wonderful

To put on a heavy winter coat,

A pair of mittens, boots and snow pants,

(and maybe a scarf)

To take a nice winter walk

Before it’s dark.

And if I’m lucky, and not too cold,

I’ll take some time to sit in the snow

—and listen—

Then on my way home, I’ll hum a few notes

And wish that the world was this peaceful.  

The Road and Me

I had the strangest driving experience the other day.

I drove to Fort Collins to visit one of my closest friends and on the way there and back I encountered some of the thickest fog I have ever seen.

On the way there it swelled like a cloud and when I drove into it I couldn’t see a thing but the taillights of the cars in front of me.  It was so thick I thought I was driving through snow.  But no, it was just extremely intense fog.  

However, the drive back proved to be more interesting.  This time the fog was only on the sides of the roads, as if it had tried to creep onto the road but had been pushed back by the rushing flow of cars.  In addition, I could see on top of the layer of fog.  So there were random trees that I could only see the tops of, and in some cases the bottom.  The entire mid section of the trees was cut out by a blanket of fog. 

It gave me the feeling that, if I were to drive off the road, I would have fallen off a cliff like it happens in Mario Cart.  I could see perfectly in front of me, but I couldn’t see anything to the sides. 

It was just the road and me.

If only life was always like that.  Take this path, since it’s the only one you can see.

It’s not though.

Which is why I suppose it’s so interesting, and so dang fun. 

That Familiar Blanket of Cold

A beautiful

fall day.

it seems i’ll take a walk

on my own—

and breathe

the fresh air.

no one is here

to tell me

where to go.

so I go,

alone.

The air tastes of

Christmas,

suddenly it’s changed

since a few

days ago.

and all I want is

snow.

that familiar blanket

of cold, but warming

for my soul.

I’ll dream,

in Seattle.

but I won’t kid myself.

When the snow does come

It will be

in Colorado.

The Brightest Thing Since the Sun

I’m so thankful that my desk resides directly next to my window.

Though it may be cloudy in Seattle the majority of the time, or raining (or misting as the case would usually be), I always enjoy the view. 

The trees outside my window are currently a fiery orange, and their color becomes even more illuminated when the sun hits them just right. 

Yesterday I was contentedly blogging as it rained and I turned to look out my window as I normally do when trying to find the right words.

There, spread across the sky, was the most glorious rainbow I have ever seen.

Considering I don’t see the sun very often in Seattle, seeing a full rainbow was indescribable.  

I immediately began yelling at everyone on my floor to look out the window.  I started taking pictures and posted about the rainbow on the Ashton Facebook page, telling people to look outside.  I wanted as many people as possible to get the chance to see it. 

Why shouldn’t everyone delight in the beauty of a promise?

I call rainbows “promises” because they remind me of all the great things that God has in store for me, and everyone around me. 

Before I knew it people throughout the dorm were yelling out their windows, “Look at the rainbow!” and everyone was hooting and laughing. 

Within minutes Facebook was full of posts talking about the rainbow—everyone was posting pictures and glorifying the beauty of God’s nature!

It seemed as if God was saying, you can get through this and I am here every step of the way.

Promises.

Yes, promises that will never fail. 

  

New

The air is chilly, the time round noon

Alone I sit inside my room

Breathing the air of fall

Through a cracked-open window.

My homespun thoughts weave in my head

Thoughts of hope (and thoughts of dread)

Things I’d like release from my hand

And blow into the wind.

The falling leaves touch the ground

Hitting the pavement without a sound

And I watch them,

Dreaming of Colorado. 

Today is here, the sky is blue

A time of year when my feelings are new,

Yet the world is dying away

And preparing for winter.  

Observations of a Distracted Runner

This morning I went on a run. Finally.

It’s not that I haven’t been working out. I have. I climb a nearly 45-degree hill numerous times a day plus hundreds of stairs on top of that if I don’t have the patience to wait for the elevator. I seldom do—it’s way too slow.

I knew last night I wanted to run in this morning and purposefully get some exercise.

I set my alarm for 8:00 and eventually rolled out of bed around at little before nine.

After pulling on my work out clothes I left my dorm and took the numerous flights of stairs to reach the bottom level so I could go outside.

Then I started running. I had no idea where I was going but I ran down the hill away from my dorm.

I ended up running along Salmon Bay, which flows from Lake Union. It was beautiful and the perfect temperature to run. Plus, it wasn’t raining which made it even better. The weather as of late has been gorgeous, so now I’m going to be even more disappointed when it starts to get continuously gloomy.

My IPod shuffle was randomly playing songs and it started out with some of La Roux’s music. Her music is very quick paced, and before I knew it I had gone rather far.

The path on which I was running possessed many different benches facing the water. I sat down at a few of them, admiring the view and feeling the stillness of the morning on my skin.

Suddenly I was tempted to sit down at every single one. Though I was looking at the same water from every bench, the feeling was always slightly different depending on where trees were located, whether or not I was in the shade, or how close I was to water’s edge. I could have spent all morning sitting at all of them and deciding which one was my favorite and why.

However, I continued to run and I said hello to whoever was running the other way. The pastor from my home church talked about community during a sermon once and he said it always makes a difference to say hello to someone when you are out walking or running. Which is why I always say hello to people on my runs. Or wave. (I really like waving. Ask any of my close friends.)

When I finally decided I should turn back, the music on my IPod had switched to the opposite end of the spectrum from La Roux. Louis Armstrong was singing in his husky jazzy voice and I discovered I was more content to listen to him and be relaxed while I run instead of trying to always match the beat of La Roux’s dance music.

I passed a day care with the coolest looking playground I’ve ever seen. Not because of an awesome jungle gym, but because it was pretty much a giant sand box/nature yard. Lucky kids, that’s so much cooler than a typical playground.

When I made it back onto campus I remembered I still had a hill to run back up.

I guess it was too beautiful for me to mind much, even in my exhausted state.

And the hill really isn’t a bad thing.

I’ll have awesome legs because of it.