{Life} Routine

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The alarm on my iPhone goes off. 20 seconds later, the alarm clock by my bedside goes off.

I stumble out of bed and change into my workout clothes.

I stumble into the kitchen. No need to turn on the lights. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon into a cup and fill it up with water. I down the drink like medicine.

Put on my running shoes to go for a run.

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After my run, I get ready for work.

I eat my breakfast in the car. Yes, I’m one of THOSE drivers. Guilty as charged.

Commute to work is an hour.

I spend 11 to 12 hours at work.

Commute home is an hour.

Once home, I unpack and prepare my food for the next day.

Go to sleep.

Day out.

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Next day arrives.

Repeat.

And this routine repeats. Day in, day out.

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Although content, I want to start settling into a career. My current job provides variety and challenges but there isn’t room for long-term advancement and the commute is a bit further than I would prefer. I like the work-life balance but my current job doesn’t feel like my calling. I feel I’m meant to do more.

I just don’t know what that calling is yet.

Life,

I’m lost waiting to be found.

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My Favorite

Ice Cream.

It’s the way to my heart.

And stomach.

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And I think I’ve found my favorite ice cream shop: Pazzo Gelato.

Favorite because their Vegan sorbetto flavors tastes just as good as their dairy options.

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The sorbettos were flavorful and creamy. Each sorbetto TASTES like what it says it is.

I got three flavors: Chocolate Orange Sorbetto, Strawberry Sorbetto, and Apricot Sorbetto.

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I couldn’t stop smiling as I scooped each spoonful into my mouth.

Amazingness.

Heavenly.

Favorite.

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Growing Up

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For my birthday,

I don’t need presents,

and please, no fancy parties.

ImageI DO want a cake, preferably homemade,

preferably with love by my mom,

and I DO want acknowledgment from my family that it’s my birthday.

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This year,

I had expected my grandmother to call me on THE day, asking to come over to celebrate my birthday with me.

The morning of THE day, the phone stayed silent.

By late afternoon of THE day, the phone remained silent.

My heart sunk.

My grandmother had forgotten my birthday.

I used to not care if she had forgotten.

But this year it DID matter because our relationship had improved significantly.

She meant more to me than I had realized.

I was hoping she shared that same feeling. I was hoping she would call me to wish me happy birthday.

I tried to brush aside my disappointment but the feeling lingered inside me.

After a few days, I finally got the courage to call her.

We chatted a bit. Then came the moment of truth.

I asked my grandmother if she remembered when was my birthday.

She responded with the correct date.

She said that she had waited all day on THE day for us to call her, to invite her over. She had my present all ready to go.

We never called.

I told her I was waiting for HER to call US.

She never called.

This is an example of how misunderstandings arise.

ImageCheers to growing up. Cheers to being another year older, another year wiser.

Day of Perfect Meals

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The commute to and from work is about a 2.5 hour drive everyday.

My solution to combat the long drive is Podcasts. Tons of them.

Today on my way home, I was listening to Spilled Milk and was so inspired by their Day of Perfect Meals episode that I’d like to share my vision of a Day of Perfect Meals with all of you.

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Breakfast:

Fluffy Pillow Pancakes such as the one by Isa Chandra

Hot Nut Milk consisting of almonds, cashews, 1 tbsp of carob powder, 1 tbsp of flaxseeds, 2 dried figs

Lunch:

Miso tofu soup topped with scallions

Sweet Potato sliced in half and slathered with almond butter

Snack:

Red Delicious Apple

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Dinner:

Hot Nut Milk

DIY Vietnamese spring rolls

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Dessert:

Jasmine Tea

Big, Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookie

As you may be able to tell, I like to keep my meals simple because I prefer to not eat too much per meal but have more meals spread throughout the day. I also love savoring each bite so the less I have on my plate, the more I can focus on the texture and quality of the foods.

What about you? What’s your favorite meal?

{Touch} Our Hands

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You used to admire my soft, delicate hands.

You said I was like a princess who never had to work.

You did all the work for me,

for everyone around you.

You spoiled us like royalty.

I grew older.

I became you.

My hands are no longer soft and delicate.

They are covered with calluses.

I often touch the calluses on my hands and wonder,

if I’d rather be the naive princess or the hardworking daughter.

I’d often wonder if my hands stayed soft and delicate,

if your hands would become coarser; your heart heavier.

My hand touches yours.

They match.

I won’t let go.

{Touch} Running Chronicles: Pusher

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I get this feeling that you’d like to know more about me.

Either that or I’m just making an excuse to tell you more about me.

Does it matter?

Not to me.

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Grab your tea or coffee. Let’s talk.

In case you haven’t read far enough into my blog, I’m a runner.

I run six days a week. Some times twice a day.

I’m NOT addicted to anything during the run:

PAIN when I push hard;

and FEAR when confronted by wild animals or barking dogs.

But I AM addicted to the effects of running:

Release of ENDORPHINS,

and a boost of extra ENERGY.

I’m not sure if being motivated is an innate trait of mine.

But I rarely let myself give up.

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About a month ago, I started feeling sluggish during my runs.

I didn’t want to take a break from running so I did the next best thing:

I bumped up the game. I started timing my runs.

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The method worked.

My time has improved by about four minutes, comparing the first time I started timing myself to my fastest time.

Yet I still have an issue.

I don’t know when enough is enough.

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Last week, I felt my body and legs sore. They were telling me they needed a break, even just for a day.

But I didn’t listen.

Maybe because I’m scared that if I ever stopped my routine, I won’t be able to get my rhythm back.

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I know in the long run it is not good to not listen to your body.

But I’m a Pusher.

It’s hard to tell a Pusher to stop when the lifestyle is always to go, go, go.

Do you have a strength that is also your weakness? How do you cope with it?