The trip to Dallas was wonderful in many ways. I got to see lots of old friends. Usually, I show up and I'm with 10 or 15 people for dinner each night. That's fun and awesome, but even for an extrovert like me it's overwhelming. It also means that I don't get to really talk with people. This trip, I met up with friends in small groups which meant I got to hear about their lives. I also didn't guilt myself into going to lunch with people that I knew well, but are ultimately toxic to me.
Dallas was my home for 10 years and I was happy there. I never wanted to leave. Being back there absolutely confirmed that I made the right decision to move to the West Coast. I'm at home with the laid back people in San Diego, the Pacific ocean, and the unrelentingly perfect weather. I miss my friends from Dallas, but the city doesn't feel like home any longer. I have the same feeling when I visit my family on the East Coast - love the people dearly and everything is familiar. It's just not where I'm supposed to be.
Another good thing is that I was basically on plan with eating for the entire trip. This trip could have been the perfect storm of bad food choices - lots of restaurant meals, "souvenir foods" and post-race calorie-fest entitlement. I was basically able to stick to the plan. Go me!
Got home to San Diego to find poor Steve sick with whatever croupy mess I had last week. Poor guy, he hasn't even started the coughing phase yet. He might have been able to skip this cold, but his race this weekend really beat down his immune system. (Not-so-Fun fact: endurance activities put you at higher risk for respiratory infections.) The one thing I didn't like about the trip was that I missed Steve's race. Last night, I put all of his events on my race calendar. Why didn't that occur to me sooner?