feel. live. play. run.

The power of human interaction never ceases to amaze me. Especially because I so easily find comfort when I’m alone, in my little bubble of the internet, obsessive cleaning and craft beer. But the more I encounter these moments of unexpected interaction that make me feel happy, and connected, the more I realize there’s something to it. Some sort of cosmic transfer of energy that has broader meaning.

On my 6-mile run yesterday, I passed a young girl walking on the street. When I run in my neighborhood, I pretty much have to cover every side street if I’m doing anything more than three miles. My neighborhood just isn’t that big. So I passed her once, twice and then three times before I was on my way. The third time I passed her, I was running toward her and she was walking toward me, so we were facing each other. She looked up, smiled and waved a surprisingly energetic wave. It was unexpected. I immediately smiled and waved back with that same 13-year-old girl-like joyful wave. And within seconds, we parted ways.

The moment lifted me up. It was toward the end of my six miles, just the boost I needed. It was just happy, unassuming and simple.

Moments like that make me wonder what forces are at work around me. Is there something out there saying Alyssa, cheer the fuck up! Look at this happy-go-lucky girl and join her in her simple love of life! Or maybe we as human beings have something within us that just yearns for positive interaction. Maybe we just have to be open to it.

Whenever I’m on a park path, I try to acknowledge runners and cyclists passing in the opposite direction. Some people are friendlier than others. But all it takes is one true connection to make me feel like all is right with the world, and with my run. Like we’re all in this together. Just one wave, one “good morning” or even one simple nod of the head.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve written anything here, and it kills me. Writing is as much a part of me as running. And nature. And music. And emotion. Writing helps me express myself.

When I’m not writing, I know it’s a sign that things aren’t okay in my head. Another sign is when I’m not singing in my car. So once the blog posts start flowing and the truck drivers start staring, you know I’m doing alright.

Last week, as I was rounding out the last mile of my 10 mile Wednesday night run, I noticed the moon at the end of the street. It was huge. It looked like it was right there, at the end of our street, like it could block the traffic. It was a cream color, not white. And it was as big as a fucking house. My 10 miles were done, but I couldn’t go right home. I had to go to it. So I ran another quarter mile to the end of the street, just to see the moon.

Of course, the moon was not actually at the end of our street, but I got closer to the best view in the neighborhood, and even though I was late for dinner and cold and hungry, I wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything.

It was in that moment that I realized I have to listen to my heart, to my gut and to what calls to me. That night, the moon was calling to me. And these past few months, the call I haven’t answered has something to do with rediscovering my true self through running, writing and being real. I’m not sure exactly what that means, but if you care to join me on this journey, it’s bound to be quite a ride.

Listen to your heart. Follow your moon. I’m positive there’s no other way to be.

On my way home today, I stopped to get gas and, for the life of me, I could not unscrew the gas cap. I practically broke my hand trying, and finally gave up.

Luckily, I had just enough fuel to get myself to the gas station closest to our house, at which point I reluctantly called Jamie. “I just want you to know that it was very hard for me to make this phone call,” I said, swallowing my pride. Of course, he came right away, unscrewed the gas cap like it was a light bulb, and had a good chuckle. Apparently it was not screwed on properly, so to remove it, you had to simply pull it backward without actually unscrewing. Whatever.

I thanked him for his assistance and said I’d meet him at home. It was so embarrassing. I like to think I’m an independent woman who can take care of herself. Well, I am, you know. But sometimes we all need a little help.

After I filled the tank and took a few deep breaths, I actually drove home with a smile on my face. Jamie gets a kick out of me and my fierce need for independence. I honestly felt bad for being more frustrated than I was grateful to him. But he just shakes his head with love. And amusement.

I also thought, man, I should not be so hard on myself. So what if I couldn’t unscrew a gas cap? You know what I did just a week and a half ago?

I ran a marathon.

When I decided to run my first marathon more than seven months ago, I said I was doing it for all the little girls out there who doubt themselves. And, admittedly, that group included me. I wanted to prove to them, and to myself, that they could do it. That they could achieve their dreams, whatever those dreams might be.

Now that I’ve crossed the finish line, I have the proof. No matter what hardships I might face, and no matter how many gas caps get stuck, I will always have this. I can always say, I’m a marathoner. I set a goal, and I did it.

In a few days, I will write more about all the technical stuff we runners like to talk about – the splits, the gels, the gross blood blisters. But, for now, I want to end here, with a simple message that yes, you can do it. Two years ago, I could not run a single mile without stopping. Today, I can say I’ve run 26.2 miles in four hours and 45 minutes.

I didn’t make my time goal, but that’s ok. I loved every sweaty second of it. And here I sit. Still coming off the high of it all, but also with a serene sense of, yep, I did it.

And now, with more fuel in the tank, I’m considering my next big goal.

Cruising into the finish at the Steamtown Marathon on October 9, 2011.