The year in recap

One of my closest friends and her boyfriend are holding an intimate New Year's brunch gathering today, which Nathan and I will attend.  Boyfriend will undoubtedly ask each of us to spontaneously reflect on our best and worst moments of 2012.  I always know that moment is coming, and I always dread it.  Boyfriend doesn't wait for the serious and philosophical tone that develops during the latter part of a meal.  He catches everyone off guard, non sequitur, unveiled after you've just sat down to eat or after telling a funny story.  When you balk, he will rephrase as "What was your highest high and your lowest low?"  And even though you haven't really broken the ice for that gathering yet, having only made jokes about how lousy the Jets are this year, he will eagerly await you to spill your guts.

I agree that time has a way of diminishing the magnitude of life events so that they are much better appreciated when recounted en mass at transitional times like this, but Boyfriend insists that you also describe your worst moment.  Gee.  Thanks.  Dude.  I was trying to allow a mental block to form around those memories so that I could move on without my head dragging so low.  But hey, sure, why not reignite them out loud and in front of people who I may not consider appropriate?  Whatever.  He did it at the close of multiple semesters as well as at the completion of grad school.  He does it for your birthday.  He’s bound to do it tomorrow morning.

So this year I've decided to prepare myself by accumulating a list of accomplishments and experiences from 2012.  When he asks for my lowest low, I will think of this list, smile, and politely tell him to shove it. 

Running:

Finished two 50 mile trail races, the second of which bested my previous time while included 4,000 more feet of elevation gain on ski slopes and huge visceral stomach cramps.  Those days were over 10 hours spent in the woods, wherein I learned why I run, why I like distances, why I am pulled to the trail.  I am not religious in any conventional sense, yet this is by far one of the closest things to it.  Putting yourself so completely on the line is, for myself and others like me, how we reconcile our mortal interactions with a decidedly not well understood universe.

Managed three benchmarks in respect to road races.  1) I managed to break time barriers I had never thought possible for myself, beating 1:30 for a half marathon and 3:15 for a marathon.  2) I actually won a race.  Purely circumstantial, since it was in no small part due to an absence of true speedy elite women and it was one of the slowest years they’ve had on record, but I’ll take it.  3) I qualified for Boston.  You have no idea how impossible that seemed five years ago when I took another break from running due to not doing things right (i.e. running too many days per week, prior to learning how to run like a proper old person).

Professional:

Finished graduate school.  Passed the boards on my first try.  Got a job at one of NYC’s premier hospitals.  Most newbies do not begin working weekends until they pass their probationary period, which is six months.  Less than two months in, I took over Saturdays as the person in charge of acute care.  Meaning I’m the boss.  Scary. 

I have completed sub-rotations in orthopedics and medicine (i.e. alcohol withdrawal and renal failure), learning a lot about pain and the complexities or comorbidities.  Currently I am working oncology, where providing quality of life and discharge planning are redefined every day.  (Not an easy setting for me, but that is a much more serious discussion for a different day.)  I am eagerly awaiting neurology, where you really figure out how to be a PT, much like my last school affiliation in brain injury rehab.

Life:

Got married.  And each day I feel even more happy about it than the day before.  Things didn’t really change that much, considering we were already living together and had already sketched a loose future plan together.  Yet they did change, in an abstract way.  Still getting used to the term “wife,” and still getting used to getting letters and packages addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. [insert husband’s full name]” despite my adamancy of hyphenating my last name.  Heck, I’m also getting used to the idea of “Mrs.” in the first place.  Right after it happened, a work colleague started greeting me as Mrs., and I kept correcting her “It’s Ms.!!”  Her argument is that “Ms.” imparts that you are mean while “Mrs.” is reserved for those who are nice.  I’m flattered, but I don’t know if I’m ready to accept that title yet.

Cleaning up my eating habits.  We've dramatically cut down on the amount of meat and dairy, initiating out of exploration for possible food allergies for Nathan's sake, and we have ended up liking the change.  I was vegetarian for a while during college, though much like distance running I did it completely wrong and thus found it inadequate.  At this point we are definitely vegetarian, most of the time even vegan.  I know, icky term, but I'd call it only 95% because we are realistic about how to interact with others.  I’m not going to waste food that was made for me, like when a friend made a big dinner that included little chicken burritos with a special salsa in them that they really wanted me to try.  I’m not going to force it onto others, like when Nathan and I visited his grandparents and made them a vegetable lasagna so they’d have leftovers but used real mozzarella and ricotta.  (Which, we only now tried vegan “cheese” for the first time, and I’d rather make my own substitute or go without it from here one out.  And no, I have never tried tofurkey nor do I ever plant to try it, because eating a “meaty” thing that is not meat is just plain weird.)  My brother was nice enough to buy us an outing at Toast, our local burger joint that makes the BEST burgers in the world, and when we go I will very likely have an Alpine Burger that has swiss cheese and portobello mushroom on an English muffin, and it will be cooked rare or medium rare.  Oh, and when Grandma mails you cookies or Mom sends you chocolates, you eat them.  No ifs, ands or buts.  Preferably the entire quantity is eaten within one or two days.  It's the law, people.  Don't question it.

This year has been brought to you in part by:

Almond butter

American Pickers and Antiques Road Show
Andrew Bird

Aquafor
Avocado 
Bedtime at 9 p.m.
Bruised toenails
Clif Bars
Coffee

Ebay

Falling while running
The George Washington Bridge

Green medical scrubs
The Long Path
Kale 
The King's Speech
Lincoln

Mumford & Sons
The Palisades road, a.k.a. Henry Hudson Drive
Parks and Recreation
A Prairie Home Companion

Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Shearwater
Snot rockets 
SpiderDolphinRabbitSealWorms

The Talking Heads, Remain In Light

Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me

Winesap apples
Your local veterinarian
Vicars

And viewer support from people like you.