chords and cadence

Another runner's writ

Archive for the month “September, 2013”

Metaphorically speaking

It’s 9:13pm on a Friday.

I’m in my pajamas, glasses, and I’m wearing a green face mask because I’ve been known to live it up on Fridays.

I went to the gym tonight at 7:30, listened to an episode of “This American Life,” and I did the stairmaster. The gym was as empty as you would think at 7:30 on a Friday night, which was nice. More room for lunges.

The socially-conditioned don’t-miss-out-on-anything part of me (that I wish were non-existent) feels like a total loser. But the authentic part of me couldn’t be more relieved to have this kind of night, regardless who may be “TGIF-ing” it up downtown with adult beverages and live music. I need this introverted Friday night in with just my mason jar of ice water, my mint green face mask, and my foam roller. I can’t be bothered. Really…you don’t want to see this face mask. Sometimes you have to get ugly before you can get pretty…

It’s like the night before a marathon for me, except I’ve been training for this marathon since March, and it’s going to last over a week, and I’m getting paid for it, and I might get to meet Steve Martin.

Tomorrow I leave for the World of Bluegrass – part business conference, part artist showcase, part award show, part festival, and wholly a bluegrass mecca. I’m part of a crew of people running the whole shebang. It’s like game time, guys. Starting Line kind of stuff. I’m antsy, waiting for the official to pop the gun.

Only a super dork would compare a work conference to a marathon like this, but I’ve never claimed to be “cool.” The two relate thus: You study and train and lose a little sleep. You re-adjust other aspects of your life to focus in on this one thing that is a little restrictive of your social life and your freedom to get up in the morning without a single task ahead of you. You turn down late nights and late night drinks. You turn into a little bit of a loser (or at least you feel like it). But crossing the finish line, you are overwhelmed with pride and joy, knowing you did your best and feeling like you accomplished something totally monumental and all that turning down and turning in early doesn’t matter anymore. So where I’d usually get a Gatorade and a bagel after crossing the finish line, I’ll probably get something a little less carb-y and hopefully a picture with Steve Martin after this one.

So while there’s that metaphorical marathon, there is another real life marathon I’ve still trained for: Chattanooga 7 Bridges on October 20th.

After lamenting about my fatigue and frustration to anyone who would listen (lookin’ at you, mom and pops!) I was reminded that at the same point in training for my last marathon, I was working from home, not stressed out in the least, and able to really focus on training. Really, I would get to run on my lunch break and take foam roll breaks during the day. It was primo.

This time was a whole different animal that I didn’t wisely take into account before real life marathon training began again (the animal being that metaphorical marathon. confused yet? me too). Hard as it was, I decided to give myself as little of a break as I could get away with. In an attempt to speed up “recovery” or what training I had lost, I kept close track of what I ate, how much, and when in relation to running. I took rest into account as well as the mental fatigue I was feeling from work. It seemed that once I did that, I was starting to run better again. Kick-butt Taylor came back to life, kicking butt again.

It’s not all bagels and Gatorade and pictures with Steve Martin yet, though. The real hurdle next week will be the metaphorical marathon AND training for the real life marathon at the same time. I’ve really adjusted my training expectations and goals to be realistic for my schedule next week and have faith that whatever workouts I do get in will be quality enough. I’m looking forward to finishing the metaphorical marathon, coming back to Nashville with my metaphorical medal (read: picture with Steve Martin, hello you should know that by now) and ready to re-focus on the real life one. Marathon number three in less than eight months.

So, please excuse me, I have some mint green face mask to wash off, some foam to roll and some marathons to run.

It’s game time.



One year ago today I was driving east on I-40, blasting Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits with all of my possessions in the trunk, backseat, and passenger seat of my stick shift.

They would stay there for another 22 days until I would finally upchuck all of it into an empty apartment (mine, alllll mine) in the Germantown neighborhood in Nashville, Tennessee. I would spend the first night there in a sleeping bag on the hardwood floor, feeling nothing but bliss, a little bit of apprehension of Southern bugs, and a stiff back in the morning.

365 days ago, I had a future that was trepidatiously uncertain, scary, and absolutely thrilling. Fast forward 365 days, and I have a life that is absolutely thrilling, comfortably uncertain, and still a little bit scary (but hey, what good is life if it doesn’t scare you once in a while?).

I reflect a lot. I’m a writer, comes with the territory. So naturally, I’ve recently been heavily reflecting on the past 365 days. They have been a whirlwind of change, challenges, surprises, upsets, hilarity, discovery, adventure, incredible growth, and unbelievable potential.

I’ve ran two half-marathons, two marathons, and a few trail races and 10Ks.


I’ve visited five new states.

photo 5 (2)

I have met countless of brave, inspiring, fun, funny, and amazing people whom I am incredibly grateful for (and can’t wait to hang out with this weekend).

I have a solid, legit job in the music industry – my main reason for taking the leap of faith to Nashville in the first place.

I fit back into clothes I could have worn in middle school.

It’s safe to say I am living the dream. I really, really am.

I hope that 1.) You celebrate this milestone with me by having a good craft beer tonight (New Belgium Ranger IPA, anyone?), and 2.) that my story inspires you to go boldly in the direction of your wildest dreams. Like, real big ones that make your parents question your mental stability and raise their eyebrows.

When I was driving across Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and west Tennessee, I didn’t know what was next and it was thrilling/scary/weird/liberating. But I knew I had nothing to lose for going, not with the support of my friends, and family.

Have faith. Blast your favorite song. Sleep on a hardwood floor the first night in your brand new apartment. Make your life a little less certain.

Where will you be in another 365 days?


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