Dry Martini: So about the 2016 New York City Marathon…

I’m certain that you have all been sitting right on the edge of your seats — I hear that’s an excellent work-out for your quads — for the last two weeks while I made up my dang mind about taking the charity option for the 2016 New York City Marathon. You can scoot back now and relax. A decision has been made.

My sadness had nothing to do with my decision but with my empty water bottle.

I hemmed. I hawed. I flailed around for a bit. I listened to the AMR podcast 200th episode, the one where Jill talked about how there is never the right time. And I realized how true that is for any big decision, like having babies. If I’d waited until the right time, I can promise you that my two would never have happened. While there are moments when I pine for some peace and quiet in a tidy place, I have never, ever regretted the decision to just take the baby plunge.

There’s never going to be the right time — but right now is about as good as it is going to get. I’m as young as I’m going to be. I’m as prepared to start training as I’m going to be. Yeah, there’s going to be a scheduling challenge or two but, honestly, they can be managed. And frankly — who knows what could happen in my life if I decided to wait until 2017?

Which is a long way of saying: I’m raising money for Every Mother Counts, which is dedicated to making sure women have access to care during labor, delivery, and postpartum, and running the New York City Marathon in November. Trust me: you’ll be hearing so much more about all of this in weeks to come but if you’d like to help me get the ball rolling (and help convince me that I haven’t made a really silly decision), click here for my Crowd Rise fundraising page. I can only begin to express how much I appreciate any support from the tribe.

In other running news, Coach scheduled two long runs — 10 and 12 miles — for the last two weekends. Ten miles felt OK, really. I carried my H2O, listened to Pop Culture Happy Hour, and got it done with little agita. Twelve was a bit harder. Or, rather, the last two miles of 12 was harder, mostly because I was feeling extra zippy for the first five and, like a college Freshman with her first beer, forgot how to pace myself.

Still. It was perfectly OK. Which is not something I would have ever imagined that I’d say about a double-digit run.

Then on Monday morning, I ran a 5K with these chicas, who I had just met.

We will always remember the Alamo.

Because of a work-work (rather than AMR-work) conference, I’m writing this from San Antonio. I went seven or so years without setting foot in the Lone Star State, and have been here twice during the last five weeks. Life is weird.

Anywho, I’m here for a gathering of alumni magazine editors. Those of us who hang around on an alumni magazine editor message board — yes, such things exist — made a loose plan to meet up for a sightseeing run organized by River City Run. It was fabulous. No, really. Fabulous.

Kelly, our guide, who is a lawyer in his spare time, clearly loves this city and made sure than we would, too. We started at the Alamo, looped from notable sight to notable sight, down onto the Riverwalk, back above ground, and down again, and were entertained the whole time. I was worried about not being able to keep up, which is a fear I think all four of us had — and it wasn’t worth the energy, frankly. While the pace was zippier than I would have been able to sustain for a straight three miles, we stopped every few minutes to talk about whatever landmark we were near. It was like interval training — and Kelly was more than happy to meet us where we were, pace-wise.

Our Intrepid Guide (who usually had his eyes open).

Plus, I got to meet three other Badass Mother Runners that I’d not known before. And Kelly directed us to a great dive for the best breakfast tacos and coffee. A win all around.

At the end of the run, Kelly gave us each a bottle of water and a tech t-shirt just like the one he was wearing, which is what I put on after realizing that my the shirt I’d planned to wear was stinky enough that I didn’t even want to be near myself, much less expose myself to other humans.

It’s like the trail knew we were coming.

Even though Voldesun was out during our run, San Antonio might be my new favorite running town — in March, anyway. My blood has become too thick to deal with the rest of the summer.

What have been some of your favorite runs away from your home base? And was it the terrain or just the novelty of not being on the same routes?