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Posts Tagged ‘men’

A year ago today, I said yes. And it was exhilarating.

In the past year, that feeling has only amplified. I’m at the point where I want to sprint down the aisle, just so I get there faster.

(I won’t, though, because I don’t sprint well in heels.)

And it makes me laugh to think that if you had asked me four years ago whether or not I’d be marrying BNF, I would have responded: “Marry him? I don’t even like him!

I first met BNF in 2008 while playing for my company softball team. He had missed the first couple games, but I’d heard about this supposedly amazing shortstop, so I was naturally curious.

During our first game together – him at short, me at second base – we had a chance early on to make a double play. The batter hit a grounder to BNF, and I quickly moved to cover second, prepared to then throw to first.

But the throw never came.

BNF decided to make the play himself, running over second and throwing to first.

(No one remembers, by the way, if the double play was made.)

I was furious. The shortstop I’d played with in BNF’s absence always threw the ball to me. In my mind, BNF must have thought that just because I’m a girl, I couldn’t handle it! The jerk!

Later on at the bar, I was sitting nearby when I heard him declare to the table, “The thing about women is…

So I turned. “I have to hear this.

Hold on a second,” he told me. “How old are you?”

22.”

Okay. You don’t know anything.”

And just like that I thought, well, it’s a good thing I don’t have to hang out with him outside of softball!

Fast forward four years, and I can’t even imagine sprinting down the aisle to anyone else.

And it doesn’t hurt that he now throws the ball to me.

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The other night I went to the salon to test out a hairstyle for my wedding day. The stylist worked her magic and I knew, immediately, that this was what I wanted. I had curls cascading down my back and I couldn’t stop grinning as I walked home – even in the rain.

I waited eagerly for BNF to get home so he could see it, and I may have kept bouncing the curls around, as they’re so very different from (and much more fun than) my usually pin-straight hair.

Finally I heard the key in the lock, I saw BNF evaluate my hair, and saw the smile on his face.

I like it, baby,” he told me. “It looks great! It looks like a beautiful horse’s mane!

I was too surprised to come up with anything better than, “Did you just call me a horse?

I thought about it more, and came up with a better conclusion: BNF was simply channeling is inner Sir Ulrich von Leichtenstein.

In A Knight’s Tale, if you’re unfamiliar with the classic, Sir Ulrich attempts to hit on Jocelyn with the line, “Your beauty will be reflected in the power of my arm and my horse’s flanks.

Needless to say, it does not go over so well, and Jocelyn only barely listens when her friend and maid tells her, “Maybe where he comes from it means love.

Sure. Let’s go with that.

Horse comparison=love.

In these two cases, anyway. And these two only, I hope.

Though, now I wonder if it would be appropriate to trot down the aisle.

Decisions decisions.

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Back in September, BNF joined a baseball league and last night I finally got the chance to go to one of his games. One of the first things he told me about when he started was the coach. “He’s really anti-marriage,” he told me. “He actually sent me an article about how marriage is bad for you after I told him I was engaged.

So, naturally, I couldn’t wait to meet this guy, and I was certain that I’d be welcome at the game.

Coach did not disappoint.

I introduced myself when we got to the field, before the guys started warming up.

So you’re going to try that marriage thing?” he asked me. “It’s a mistake. You’ll be so bored. Can you really imagine spending the rest of your life with the same person? God, that’s awful.

When I told him that not only was I excited about my upcoming marriage, but that I was inspired by my parents (who will be celebrating 35 years in November!), it prompted him to ask me how old I was.

You’re only 26? And you can really imagine spending the next 20 to 30 years with the same person?

I’m not really sure how we got from “the rest of your life” to “20 to 30 years,” unless he thinks that everyone dies before 60. What an optimist.

After Coach left the bleachers to go warm up with the team, another guy who had been sitting there the entire time, unassociated with the team, turned to me.

That guy is a piece of work! He’s really something else.

I assured him that I’d been warned and we laughed and chatted a bit. And when he stood up to leave he joked, “Well, I guess I’ll just go back to my “boring” wife of 21 years. I’ll tell her, ‘you know, honey, I thought things were great until I heard this unsolicited advice from a guy at the field – guess we’ll have to change things up.‘”

The real kicker, though, aside from the reaction of complete strangers, came at the end of the game, when Coach started a sentence with, “My girlfriend…

Well, now. I definitely did not see that one coming.

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Dear Brian Wilson,

You kind of ruined the All-Star Game for me.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy about the National League win. I like to think that it will come in handy for my Phillies later on down the road. You know, if I made predictions or anything.

But seeing you on camera kind of put a damper on the evening because – gee, how do I put this nicely – you look disgusting. Your beard is awful.

And you should know that I’m generally a huge fan of facial hair. Even unkempt facial hair.

Case in point:

So, maybe I’m still bitter about the 2010 NLCS. And maybe I haven’t forgiven you (or Uribe, or the Panda, or Cody Ross) and that’s coloring my judgment, but your beard still grosses me out.

You know that commercial where it shows what’s living in there? I fear that it might actually be accurate (not the dancers, maybe, but some living organism).

Because I’m such a helpful person, I’d like to offer up a couple solutions to this problem.

1) Get rid of the beard. It’s not often you’ll hear me say that, so take it to heart.

2) Just stop pitching. Quit the Giants (you’ll be better off) and go take up another hobby. A private hobby. Once you’re out of the spotlight, I’m sure this will be less of an issue.

You don’t have to let me know what you’ve decided. I’m pretty smart. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.

For now, I’m just counting my blessings that I don’t have to see the beard in person. I might actually vomit.

Do the right thing, Brian.

Still hating you and your 2010 Giants,

Liebchen

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You would think that in a weekend in which I went skydiving, that that would be the most exhilarating event of the weekend.

You would think.

But this weekend you would be wrong.

Skydiving was a rush. That’s no surprise. And I’ll devote a whole post to it later this week – complete with photos. But skydiving was on Saturday, and something much more exciting happened Sunday morning.

It started out with the plan to do a long run with the boyfriend – down Rock Creek to the Lincoln Memorial and along the Mall. It was a gorgeous day, if a little bit warm, but we had a great few miles from home through the park. As we were nearing the back of Lincoln Memorial, however, we realized that we had not anticipated this heat and a brief break was in order.

We stopped at the top of the steps overlooking the Potomac and I played photographer again (trying to get a good angle like the boyfriend always does), with moderate success.

As we were preparing to continue on, and pick up some water, the boyfriend paused and told me, “I’m so glad that we can run together. I love that we can do this.

I agreed, of course, not knowing where this was coming from, and then came the rush.

He got down on one knee and asked me to spend my life with him. He pulled out the ring that he’d had tucked in the pocket of his running shorts and presented it, as I tried to pick my jaw up off the ground and gather myself enough to say, “Yes! Of course!

With the ring newly on my finger (and my happy tears mostly dried), we went to celebrate at brunch with RB, LB, K, and E. And then came the next surprise.

All during the cab ride I’d been trying to call Mama to tell her the good news, and she wasn’t answering her phone. I said to the boyfriend (now fiance), “I can’t call anyone else before I talk to my mom! Why isn’t she answering?

And then I walked into the restaurant and saw Mama, Daddy, and some of my best friends (including Cla – who had helped the fiance plan and execute), and I burst into tears once again.

Skydiving was a rush, for sure, but Sunday, May 8, was infinitely better.

A: Jumping out of a plane’s got nothing on simply saying yes.

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As we were driving back from New York this past Sunday night, the boyfriend got a text which caused him to gasp (in a totally manly way) and turn to me with this declaration: “This news will change your life.”

A little dramatic, right?

Maybe, but not when the news is JAYSON WERTH GOT SIGNED BY THE NATIONALS!

Hold on. Let me breathe.

And let me be clear: in my ideal world, Werth would have stayed a Phillie. I love him. I love him on my team. He is a star in Philly and was instrumental in our past few post-seasons.

BUT, if that can’t happen, what more could I ask for than that he move to my current city so I can stalk see him so much more often? I can go to any game I want an ogle right field.

I’ll still see this, in just a slightly different red:

I'll use any excuse to put this photo in a blog post.

(Though, it has to be said, he’ll always look best in a Phillies uniform.)

Now, Werth being in the city means more opportunities to meet him. (By “opportunities” I mean staking out Nats Stadium on game day.) And meeting him would lead to checking off the “life dream” part of my 25 for 25.

You might argue that my goal was to meet a Phillies player, something that Werth no longer is. But to that I very eloquently say, so what? To me he’ll always be a Phillie, and he is still my favorite.

Because I’ve been so open about my obsession crush, I had several people texting and emailing me the news Sunday night. And one of my favorite emails was this one, from SuperMom:

[Liebchen]…you lucky lady. ¬†Werth will be in your town for the next seven years! ¬†Thoughts of seeing him all summer should keep you warm on these cold winter days!

She has an excellent point.

Baseball season can’t come soon enough.

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This weekend was amazing.

I went into the marathon nervous, and feeling a lot of pressure – that I’d placed on myself. I’d set a goal of finishing faster than last time. I figured that since I only had a month to train for the first marathon, having a full three months would make me better prepared (i.e. faster) this time around. But then, my training runs weren’t what I hoped they’d be. They were slow and difficult, and my hope of getting a PR was quickly fading.

I settled for a goal of just finishing, but still wore the pace bracelet to keep track of where I was in terms of a 4:59 finish.

To be honest, I didn’t glance at Guillermo too often for the first six or seven miles. I was enjoying the atmosphere and checking out all the costumes. I bet you didn’t know that so many superheroes ran the Marine Corps Marathon.

I was also keeping my eye out for our dedicated spectators. RB, LB, and DS were camped out near mile seven, where DS captured this photo – a pretty accurate representation of how I was feeling:

So excited! I’m running a marathon! I feel great!

Later on I spotted MJ’s dad holding George, the giant balloon he’d bought in order for us to be able to find him amidst the crowd:

And at some point around the half-marathon mark I realized that I was about two minutes ahead of pace, and that if I kept it up I could even possibly PR. Once I realized that, though, I tried my hardest not to think about it. With more than half the race left, I knew I’d drive myself crazy if I stressed over it. So I continued with my routine of scoping the costumes, reading the signs, and getting chills as I read the shirts of those who were running in memory or in honor of a loved one. And, of course, watching out for our spectators.

Around mile 16.5, I saw Nicstress, out of nowhere, and at mile 17 I caught up with Mo, who I hadn’t seen since close to the beginning. Together we ran the next few miles, spotting Memo and Mo’s boyfriend twice along the way. Memo even ran with us briefly, in order to get a good photo, and nearly ended up stuck on the course, thanks to a well-placed water table.

I saw MJ’s dad once more, sans George, as I headed into the final 6.2 stretch. I remembered from back in March that this was truly the hardest part of the race for me. I was sluggish, I was drained, and there was minimal crowd support. This time around it could not have been more different. I’m feeling the high again just writing this.

It helped that I was familiar with this part of the course. I’d just run it at the Army 10-Miler the weekend before and knew what to expect. I glanced at Guillermo again and realized that I was still significantly ahead of pace and that I really might be able to meet my goal. And that is what carried me through to the end. Seeing people walking just strengthened my resolve and I pushed on through the end, right up that one last ramp to Iwo Jima.

And when I stopped my watch and saw the result, my smile was so big that you might never know that I’d just run 26.2.

The actual result was 4:56:29, which means that I beat my first marathon time by more than two minutes. It may sound insignificant, but for me that’s huge.

All in all, this race was everything I wanted it to be and more. I wore my medal around for the rest of the day, in addition to my new super cool MCM jacket, and, though I ached, I felt like a rock star.

Thanks so much to all of you for your support, comments of encouragement, song suggestions, and race day thoughts. You’ve been fantastic. I don’t have another marathon lined up yet, but you can be sure I’ll let you know. As it is, I’ll be taking this week off from running, but this race was exactly what I needed to get me excited about the sport again.

Oorah!

*Note: With the exception of the first photo, all photo credits go to the boyfriend and his iPhone.

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