Notes from the Red Bird House

I had a conversation with myself on Saturday during my weekly long run. I'm training for a half marathon and, on Saturday, I planned to run more-than-seven-yet-not-quite-eight miles. I was in good spirits at the start. The weather was sunny and cool. The trail (the Lady Bird Lake Hike & Bike trail in Austin) was surprisingly not jammed with people. A couple miles in I still felt good which isn't generally a given with me and running these days. Many days I suffer from the first step to the last; luckily Saturday wasn't one of those days.  [I think I need a preface here - When I do my "long" runs, I don't stretch them out into out-and-backs. In my twenties, I'd go out for a fifteen miler and occasionally be seven or more miles from home. I don't do that anymore. The absolute last thing I want it to crap out and have to walk MILES back to my car or house. Instead, I do short loops. For example, the Saturday run I started talking about above involv

Yesterday, a co-worker said something that I haven't really been able to shake. We were talking about his family. In explaining his father, my co-worker said that he thought his father's problem had been that he never took risks. He played it safe, too safe in my co-worker's opinion. Granted we were talking about the family finances and why his father had often worked three jobs, but that's not why his comment - stated completely in passing on our way to further conversation - stuck with me. I'm not worried about finances (though I probably should be). I am, however, worried that maybe I haven't taken enough risks. Come on, Stacee, really? You moved from Muskegon, Michigan to the near backwoods of East Texas because you were in love with a woman who arguably wasn't courageous enough to love you back. Then after one Sunday afternoon in Austin, you decided to uproot yourself and move to a city where the only people you knew were a crazy ex-girlfriend and her