Last week my boyfriend commented on the fact I haven’t written in awhile. I knew. Every day I ask myself what I’m waiting for. Why words – typically my familiar friends – have been nowhere to be found. I’d tried to explain it the other day to a friend, but really I was justifying it to myself as I often do with topics I want to avoid the answers to. If I tell the story over and over again – to my mother or best friend – then maybe just maybe the version I tell will become true. It’s as if I think I can change that nagging in my gut. “I don’t have anything to write about,” I’d say. Or, “I’ve just been really frustrated with work and I can’t really write about that.” Truth is there is tons to write about. Over the last few months I’ve done some truly awesome stuff. There was my second Xtreme Hike for CF, a trip to my favorite place in the world – the Renaissance Fest, setting personal bests in my running, owning my new condo, etc.,etc., etc. This post should really be about this weekend in Savannah where I watched my boyfriend complete his third half marathon this year. I’m extraordinarily proud, but I can’t find my voice. The light-hearted and mildly self deprecating voice I love to share with all of you is lost to me. I’m searching for it, and hope this will pass soon.