Last Thursday, my roommate and I began an adventure. We were going to leave our quaint, two-bedroom on-campus apartment for a luxury off-campus option. For both us, it would be the first time we were venturing off-campus to live. Now, Columbia has a plethera of options when it comes to luxury living. It’s trendy thing right now. We found a sweet deal at The Domain, and after several pieces of the puzzle fell into place, we were given the green light to move. The catch was that we have to be out of old place by 8 a.m. the next morning.

So,  before we get to the adventure that was that Thursday night, let’s go back to the beginning for it was the result of a chain of events that began when my roommmate returned from the summer.

“Yes, this is where we live,” she said with a certain measure of disappointment as if she forget about the circular shower, the small kitchen and the general dreariness of the building.

Her return was just for a day since she was going back home for a little bit. Yet, all she needed was that inital glimpse of our home to cement her dislike. I don’t blame her. The place is rough. University Place Apartments is someone’s idea of a cruel joke. The building has a perpeutal bug problem. The plumbing is bad. For example, water pooled in the shower this summer. It was random, not after I had just showered or anything like that. When I told the maintenance man about my issue, he too was perplexed. It was both of ours understanding that water was not supposed to flow back up the pipes. His explanation? The heavy rain. OK.

We also pay extra for a tiny window in the corner of the family room.

So Meghan, that’s my roommate, got the idea in her head that we could move. Nevermind that the start of school was just a week away and that we had already gone back and forth on the issue of moving. We decided to stay for a couple of reasons. One of which was that the though of packing was repulsive.

She then found a really good deal at the Domain. We could move into a four-bedroom apartment for $499 a month, $9 more than what we paid at UPA. We would get our own bathrooms, laundry in the apartment, a bigger kitchen and other amenties. It was a deal that we couldn’t refuse.

In order for us to be able to move, we have to get out of our other lease. A minor issue. We had two options. We could buy our way out or find a subleaser. We’re not made of money, so we put our building manager in charge of finding a subleaser. When we told him we wanted to move, he seemed a little sad.

I eventually jumped on the “Lets Move!” train once I found myself locked out of my apartment for several hours. The building’s on-call person never answered the phone, and I had to write a ridiculous check to an older man who let me in. The whole experience left me sour.

Within a week, the building manager found us an interested subleaser, but it was a balancing act. We needed the subleaser to come through, and for the Domain to not fill up or change their rates. I referred to the situation once as “playing with fire.” The contract timing had to be perfect.

And it all turned out, somehow. We got the call about the subleaser that Tuesday, and we signed a contract. Later that day, we signed leasing documents at The Domain. Unforuntately, our information was a little wrong. There was a waiting period of a day or two before we would get keys. Regardless, we still had to leave UPA by 8 a.m. Friday. At that point, a little part of me started panicking.

Fast forward to Thursday night. We had gotten word earlier in the afternoon that our keys were ready. Well, we had classes and work, so moving would have to wait.

THE ACTUAL PROCESS OF PHYSICALLY MOVING
The adventure began on a rough note.  Keys in hand, we realized that we lived on the third floor, and there weren’t any elevators. This scenario had not crossed our minds, and we had a lot of stuff. The room itself was awesome! I didn’t regret the decision to upgrade. I just really didn’t want to move everything I owned upstairs. So at around 7ish, we drove the 3 miles back to UPA to start packing up my car. The first load wasn’t too bad. Looking back, we should’ve recruited more help early on, because two people lugging one item up the stairs at a time was not efficient.

The second trip was much worse. For starters, the old place looked like we hadn’t made any progress. It was disheartening. We also still had packing to do. We loaded up two cars and went back.

It was at that point that my darling roommate voiced a regret.

“Wow, we had a really good thing going. Let’s not move.”

I was nervous. I don’t run and the last month’s of training didn’t seem enough to propel for three miles. In all honesty, I really only trained consistently the week before the impending Color Run.

Yes, a three-mile run isn’t terribly long, but for a person who rarely runs a mile, the distance was nerve wracking. In fact, before June 1, I can’t remember when was the last time I ran a mile.

Regardless, I spent $40 for the July 4 Color Run at Stephens Lake Park, and I wasn’t going to waste my money by wimping out. This race, I would conquer.

The event was a bit intimidating, but I snagged some water, received my pristine white shirt and hid out by my car. No sense in wandering around the park looking like the lonesome soul I was.

I learned some things about the world of running and myself during that one-hour jaunt around the park.

1. Color Runs should come with a warning: “This is a social activity. Bring friends”

My roommate calls me bold, because I do things without friends. While I own my “Lone Wolf” status sometimes, the Color Run is a place for packs of wolves, figuratively speaking. You are supposed to throw color at one another, laugh and have an all around good time.  This is not something to do by yourself. I’m happy I did the Color Run, but seriously, it’s designed to be a fun event, and it’s hard to have a great time without friends. Now, I could’ve thrown color at random strangers, but I just don’t think that would have been appreciated.

2. Walking is OK

When I started the race, I ran. I was keeping pace with the more seasoned runners and it felt good. After 1 kilometer, those good feelings had been replaced by fatigue. (Did I mention I hadn’t trained enough for this adventure?) I slowed down to a brisk walk for a little bit and watched as people of all ages passed me, including a tiny five-year-old. During the race, I ran for a little bit and walked for a little bit more. I eventually found a solid group of people who went at a similar pace. While we never exchanged words, I like to think we shared a bond.

3. Running is not a social event

People were talking and having a grand ole time during the race. Meanwhile, I was breathing heavily and trying to be cool about my level of fitness. After running those three miles, I still don’t how people run in groups. What’s enjoyable about watching your friend sweat? I understand social walks, but running with friends baffles me.

4. That powder won’t be coming out of my car or clothes anytime soon. 

I don’t know what they put in it, but the color from the run will last beyond my sore muscles. Also, it does not taste good so beware when running through the checkpoints. On the flip side, it’s really fun to get doused with color as you run.

5. My legs didn’t revolt

When I imagined myself running the 5K, I pictured me on the ground halfway through. I really thought my body would say, “We don’t run,” and give up. Yet, that didn’t happen! I was able to run the final .5 mile.

It may have only been three miles, but I still felt like Rocky at the end of it.

The jury continues to deliberate the facts of the Kelli Smith trial. Read more about it here.

To pass the time, I have been chatting with the fine folks of Montgomery County including a Sergeant with the Sheriff’s Department. Doc, as his colleagues call him, has entertained us with stories of previous cases.

“You can’t make these stories up,” he said.

Yet, the best story is how he met his current wife. He said she broke his heart when they dated in 1968. She said he broke her heart. Regardless, they both went their separate ways, married and had kids. In the last seven years, both lost their significant others. She reached out to him by writing a letter, and 41 years later after their first dates, the two married in June.

Both have several children, now grown, so instead of children, they opted for dogs. A yellow lab and mini dachshund starred in the wedding. She even made a tuxedo for both of them.  The dogs are affectionately called “the boys.”

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There you go. There is your happy story for the day. Feel better about love.