Glory Days: If I had to do it all over again...

I would still choose to attend UNLV to finish out my collegiate running career. Coming out of junior college, I admit, I wasn't too focused on what a four-year institution could offer me academically. Hell, UNLV didn't even have a dedicated Journalism degree at the time I went. Instead, I wanted to find a school where I could finish with some kind of degree, was close to home, and allowed me to be a competitive part of the cross-country and track teams.

Several division II and NAIA schools offered me athletic scholarships. Some very competitive division II schools, at that. But DII felt like a junior-varsity decision. I’d already been through the junior college athletic circus. If I was going to continue running in college, I wanted to go big or go home. If I couldn’t compete at the division I level, then to me, I should hang up my spikes and stick to local 5Ks.

I should note here that I was by no means a standout athlete in junior college. I mean, I was a big fish in a small pond: I set my junior college school record for the steeplechase, garnered a few all-region honors, and qualified for nationals in both cross and track. BUT: I was never an All-American, never a region title-holder, never even a major invitational title holder. And I should also mention that there are a ton of DII, DIII and NAIA runners who could have killed me in races. For some reason, though, I still wanted to go division I. I was not hitting DI scholarship times, but I did have solid walk-on times. (In fact, one of my most vivid junior college running memories was when Walt Drenth of Arizona State called me at home and invited me to walk-on – but Arizona State was out for a few reasons: 1) Each of the handful of girls I knew who walked-on to ASU’s team after junior college quit after their first season of cross. Transitioning from a JC to a nationally competitive DI team like ASU was not without its challenges. A lot of the JC girls quit from injury or burnout. 2) The other girls that quit was a result from being so far down on the roster that they never had a prayer of making the travel team. And putting such intense mileage in day after day without competing is a tough thing to do, mentally and physically).

SO: after a handful of considerations, UNLV it was. And even though in some ways, it may have been the easy choice (I knew coming in I would likely be the #2 runner even as a walk-on), I still had the thrill of being a DI collegiate athlete. Everything that came with it: higher level of training, access to better facilities, a team of trainers, coaches, doctors at my fingertips. Now instead of lining up against the ASU girls as a junior-college nobody, I was legit competition. I was a peer. I broke my own personal records at UNLV, and competed at the highest level possible. I also got my ass handed to me so many times in races, I thought I should just start carrying it around. But I can tell you this now looking back: I’d much rather have my ass handed to me by division I competitor than being a pack-leader against lower-tier schools.

That’s just my personal outlook. Like I said, there are a ton of amazing athletes, Olympic-caliber athletes, even, that come out of DII and DIII schools. But I was never going to be an Olympic-caliber athlete. My running high ended with college graduation. I rode my dream as far as I could. On the way, I got an education, made lifelong friends, and travelled almost every weekend for the thrill of competition.

Hey, I think I even stole a medicine ball or two from the weight room.

So, what else could I have possibly asked for?

Oh. God.

I went to confession today for the first time in roughly fifteen years.

As soon as I left the confessional, I remembered instantly the reason I hadn't been in a decade and a half.

It was easy to confess when I was a kid.

Today, I was the only one there my age. I think the average age of the church during the penance service was eighty-two. And I'm not trying to take anything away from the commendable senior citizens who attend confession, but isn't it a little easier to confess when you're old, too? I mean, what kind of shananigans can 82 year olds really get into?

I debated going today. Catholics are supposed to go at least once a year. I was extremely overdue. Christmas is the traditional time when wayward Catholics find their way back to the church. I haven't exactly drifted away, but I am what you could call a Cafeteria Catholic: I choose which parts of the church's teachings to practice and which are too inconvenient for me. It's for this very reason I've kept confession at an arm's length. Not only do I understand that there are huge parts of my life that go against my church, I have no intention of changing them. And the biggest part of confession is being truly sorry for your sins. I'm not even sure I consider some of the things I'm doing a sin (though they clearly are in the church's eyes), let alone be sorry for them.

But I went anyway. By far the biggest confession was shacking up before marriage. I was extremely relieved that his penance for me was to simply "think" about my choices rather than change them. But not before letting me know just how exactly my choices are setting me up for a potential loveless marriage full of infidelity and mistrust.

Guilt and Catholicism go hand in hand. Before I left, he told me to make sure I came back to confession every year. I think he may have realized how much his words affected me. Maybe I'll go back next Christmas. Or maybe I'll wait until I'm married so this huge guilt anvil is lifted off my shoulders. Or maybe it'll be another fifteen years before I step back into that minefield again.

Finally, China pictures. I went back and resized them.

Easily one of my best trips yet. China was amazing. The Great Wall, Forbidden City, ancient gardens...truly absolutely breathtaking sights.

It's trips like these that remind me what a lucky life I'm leading. I'm exactly where I want to be, literally and figuratively. Sure, there are some things I'd change. But never at the compromise of the big picture. It sounds cheesy, but sometimes I really do have to step back to understand how blessed I truly am.

We'll be heading to Yuma for the holidays -- the first time Dan will ever visit the Y. I love going home, I don't get back nearly often enough.

Almost six months deep in Utah. Winter here is insane. I slid off the road this morning (no damage done), and realized just exactly what everyone meant when they told me how tricky driving in the snow can be. I miss my girls in Vegas more than anything, but we're finally starting to have somewhat of a social life here. All in all, the Utah move has been amazing.

Okay okay, China pictures. So I have WAY too many to go through and post, so here are just some. And I'm much too tired to size them, so thy are giant. No captions, sorry, just pictures...