Waxing Poetic

I have a terrible, or fabulous, habit of romanticizing most every life-altering experience. I used to have the most wonderful fantasies of the 'glamor' of preparing for and completing an Ironman. These little fantasies involved becoming unbelievably 'fit' (aka ripped to the point of being able to identify every finely toned muscle in my body), and a phenomenal and shockingly fast race. Clearly I was oblivious to the trauma involved in the hours of relentless training, body aches, hundreds of gel packs, gallons of sweet/salty fluid replacement beverages and the other challenges that Ironman training presented (GI trouble). While this experience was remarkable, and transformative in numerous and positive ways, it was anything but glamorous. Ironman was more 'glamor-not' than glamorous.

I also once-upon-a-time dreamed of earning a PhD...a task that I was sure would include endless hours of pontification and philosophizing. In these day-dreams I always spoke eloquently, using enormous and grand words, and wore a beret...why I connected higher education with puffy French hats I'll never know. Clearly earning the PhD has been far less 'sitting and thinking' and far more 'holy crud....there's so much to do....where's my head?'


So, as I prepare to move to Boston I am already fantasizing about what will become my life as I am living on the East Coast. These little day dreams have melded with my 'urban lifestyle' fantasies (that have been marinating for decades) and so I frequently find myself dreaming of lovely walks to the neighborhood market for groceries and fresh flowers a few times a week. I imagine that I'll find a coffee shop that I visit so frequently that 'everyone knows my name' and a similar haunt for wine. Macy and I will have sweet urban walks along some charming path in some urban park and I will watch couples stroll along the waterfront (is there a water front in Boston?). I also imagine that I fall in love with the bump and grind of the city's pulse with all of its sounds and smells.

There are a hundred things I want to do while I live on the East coast. I must see NYC at Christmas (don't worry folks I'll come home for the holidays). I want to volunteer at the Boston Marathon. I want to visit Harvard (the closest I'll ever get), and I want to marry Lady-T.


Clearly I have not yet developed an honest view of what my life will look like. Do you have advice, sage words of wisdom? What do I need to know to successfully get through my two years in Boston? Tell me it will be all peaches and cream, rainbows and puppies. I don't know if I'm really ready for the grit and intensity that I secretly expect Boston to be.