Break the monotony

Most days I love having an office job. I love having a desk, a computer, a phone that’s all mine and a set of daily tasks to complete at that desk of my very own. And besides, I don’t spend all of my day at that desk. Being a reporter allows for trips here and there, to and fro at random intervals, breaking the monotony of the day.

But generally speaking, I have an office job. And that’s cool with me. But some days I have an insatiable desire to be outdoors, outside of what feels like a cage closing in on me. I want to be guiding a safari or looking for pebbles in a creek bed or skipping through a field a-la Maria from The Sound of Music.

Some days feel just like the day before. Some hours the hand on the clock appears to be in the same position as it was before. Some articles read just like the articles I wrote before.

I wonder if Christiane Amanpour or Bono or the Queen of England ever get bored.

I want to go salsa dancing, sky diving, get a tattoo, stand under a giant waterfall, experience the vastness of the Grand Canyon.

Perhaps I can settle for something a little less grandiose. Just sing me a song or take me to the park or bring me an ice cream cone, stat.

Random

Spray tans may be a quick solution to extreme white-ness, but they are sticky, smell weird and make people ask the question: "What happened to your face?"

I miss the Redbone Alley in Sumter.

It's way too hot to be early June. Seriously, what's up?

I can't believe my little sister is graduating from high school. I feel so old.

I want to happen upon a great fortune.

T minus three days...

Till my birthday! The big 2-5. Hard to believe. Hard to believe 2008 is almost halfway over. Hard to believe the years are flying by. Hard to believe I'm hitting the quarter century mark.

I freakin' love birthdays. For serious. I mean really, what's better?

Learning

I've learned some valuable life lessons lately. I've truly begun to appreciate the power of patience and prayer. I kept trying for so long to force changes in my life, to force my next step. I finally realized that to be happy with the end results, you can't do that, but rather you have to wait for the chips to fall where they may. God's will is amazing and his plan for my life is so much more dependable, so much greater than my own plan.

I went through a spell of several months -- maybe as many as six months -- being dissatisfied at work. I stopped loving what I did. I stopped being satisfied with the fruits of my labor.

Then finally, within the past two or three months, I've experienced a shift. A shift in my thinking, in my peace, in my sense of trusting God. Simultaneously, I began enjoying what I have, enjoying life, enjoying work, and at the same time, seeing my work get better, my rewards get better. It's amazing how that works.

I truly starting loving my job again. In turn, my articles improved, my writing improved, the respect for my work improved.

And then, the reward of all rewards. I applied for a trip through Rotary's Group Study Exchange program. A trip that four people get to take this fall to England.

I interviewed a few weeks ago, and -- dun da dun -- was fortunate enough to snag one of the four slots! Watch out everybody -- Mary's going to England.

The program sends working professionals 25-40 to a foreign country to learn about their profession and to share information about what it's like back home. The trip will be five weeks, from the middle of September to the middle of October.

I am so very excited and feel truly blessed to land this exciting opportunity. Oh the doors that open when you just sit still for a bit and let the Lord do his work...

Big news

I'm going to England this fall!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mary is...

I'm the girl who loves to laugh more than anything in the world.
I'm the girl who has moments of confusion.
I'm the girl who wants to be loved every minute, every day.
I'm the girl who loves pretty things -- pretty dresses, pretty shoes, pretty days, pretty smiles.
I'm the girl who writes to try to make sense of her thoughts.
I'm the girl who runs and plays and savors the park.
I'm the girl who wishes every day could be Christmas.
I'm the girl who hopes her pictures will come to life when she looks at them years from now.
I'm the girl who organizes and straightens and cleans and plans and worries.
I'm the girl who's frantic.
I'm the girl who hates it when a nail breaks.
I'm the girl who thinks she looks good in heels.
I'm the girl who thinks little compares to the feel of being in the sun.
I'm the girl who runs.
I'm the girl who talks too much.
I'm the girl who can't turn down sweet tea.
I'm the girl who gets taken to a different place and time when that song comes on.

Exhiliration

(My firsthand account of the Cooper River Bridge Run, as was published.)

Some people do it for the competition. Some do it to test their physical endurance. Some do it for the T-shirt. Others do it just to see if they can do it; I was one of those people.

The Cooper River Bridge Run in Charleston has beckoned me year after year. And year after year, I answered its call with excuses. But this year, exactly two months before the 10k — or 6.2-mile — run, I decided I wanted to take part in the famous trek from Mount Pleasant, across the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge, to downtown Charleston.

Having lived in South Carolina for nearly 10 years now, it’s hard not to know about the Cooper River Bridge Run. It’s the most talked about, most hyped, perhaps the most prestigious race in the Palmetto State. This year marked its 31st anniversary.

Before I decided to do the Bridge Run, I guess it would be safe to say I was a casual runner. I have been running — well, jogging — off and on for the past couple years as a way to get outside and try to be a little healthier. But I knew this casual running thing wasn’t going to cut it when I made the decision to do the Bridge Run.

So I put myself on a two-month, fast-track plan to get ready. Each week, I made myself run about three to five days, increasing the distance I ran every week or so. I only reached the six-mile mark the week before the run.I’m lucky in that I live in the historic district, which boasts sidewalk after sidewalk along infrequently traveled streets that wind through neighborhoods of attractive homes, beautiful trees and parks. So that, coupled with my brand-spanking-new iPod, made running much less a chore and much more an enjoyable pastime.

As the days went by, I could feel myself getting stronger, and it became easier to run longer distances. And though I was still a little hesitant about the thought of actually getting out there with thousands of other runners, many of whom have been doing this a lot longer than I have, I started to feel a bit like a runner myself and that I might be able to do this thing.

A co-worker, who also happens to be one of my best friends, and I drove down to Charleston on Friday evening to stay the night. We woke up at the ripe hour of 5 a.m. and started getting ready, affixing our handy time-keeping chips to our shoes and our official race bibs to our shirts.

We got a ride to the starting point in Mount Pleasant, and for a brief moment I questioned my decision to sign up for the run. There we were, in the pitch-black dark of predawn, surrounded by thousands of people, so that we could expend virtually all our energy to run six miles to downtown Charleston. Surely, I thought to myself, there are better things to be doing at 6 a.m. and much easier ways to get from Mount Pleasant to downtown Charleston.

But then I regained my perspective and remembered those weren’t the points of this experience.After waiting about an hour-and-a-half in line for the run to begin, when the gun fired, all the reasons for doing it became clear. Being surrounded by all those people, everyone so full of energy, and knowing we all had the same goal in mind — there was something exhilarating about it.

I went into the run with only two goals: to finish and to run the whole way. I certainly didn’t have any false pretenses about being able to run fast and lock in an amazing run time.

So after the gun went off, I ran and I ran and I ran. I ran slowly — very slowly. Lots of people passed me. But I kept running. With each mile marker I passed, my excitement grew.

And when I finally passed the yellow sign noting the sixth mile, I knew I was in the home stretch. And then I had done it. It took me an hour and 20 minutes, but I had done it.

It was an hour and 20 minutes spent with about 40,000 of my closest friends, and it was worth it.