A Letter to White Rock Lake

To the mass of water that got me through my first six months in Dallas: I've never fully appreciated all the ways you have touched my life.

Starting in May of 2006, when I landed in D and was missing the Bay and greenery, I went to you. So pretty much, we spent 6 days a week together. Weekends. After work. Before work (before I knew crazies hung out there in the dark). You kept me sane and somewhat in shape. I took out-of-towners to you, trying to convince them Dallas had nature beyond strip mall landscaping. I took boyfriends to you - wait, boyfriend, singular, playing that couple that throws a frisbee and has picnics. Aw, cute, White Rock Lake. I took my pseudo-dogs to your trails when I fostered some greyhounds. And let's not forget how Car likes to cruise around you with the top down and Tom Petty blasting.

I associate songs from my running mix with you. There was always that Of Montreal song that came on during the long stretch between water fountains, and the Ted Leo anti-Bush songs that made me sprint that stretch in front of the mansions. A coincidence those songs played where they did. I've kayaked on you, picking up other people's trash to make you look lovely (side note: the people who say "thanks" when they see you doing this are, 90% of the time, runners). I've seen you frozen. Flooded. Full of trash. Low on water and showing your algae. Before your beautification-construction jobs, and after. At your worst, and at your best. Your best is just before sunrise, and the sky is pinkish-blueish-orange and the trees are silhouettes and there's a mist rising from you. No bikers. No families. No cars. Just the silence, stillness and darkness for a few more minutes.

And much like one can leave their heart in San Francisco (vomit-inducing cliche, sorry), their naughtiness, pride, and life savings in Vegas, and the insides of their stomach in Mexico, White Rock Lake is also a great place to leave personal possessions.

I, for one, left my boobs and my tolerance at White Rock Lake.

See, WRL, I've been doing weekly laps around your 9.2 mile-shoreline for the past year, partial laps for the other three years, running to you and from you, sprinting through last fall with you as the weather went from sticky and hot to a perfect 50 degrees. I've been racing around you, walking around you, and occasionally running on other roads so I don't have to run anywhere near you when you're swampy, swarmed with bugs and smelling of bird crap. (Don't feel bad, we all have our days.)

And now, thanks to marathon training and my wonderful braces, I've reduced the amount of happy hours I go to and I've stopped eating as much (or at least as often) since my sensitive teeth pretty much prevent me from chewing anything I can't gum down or mush with my tongue (think bananas, pb&h, oatmeal, yogurt and rice - yummeh!). Seriously, for someone who lives on sugary, chewy candy and tortilla chips and sub sammies with crunchy bread and other hard things (yea, go there, go ahead, do it), the fact I've maintained this new "diet" without harming anyone is amazing. But I digress...

So on the night of my birthday outing, after finally finding a non-tshirt to wear, I looked in the mirror and thought, "Yep, those boobs are a little.bit.smaller." My next thought was, "I wish I had a drink to enjoy whilst getting prepped for this shindig," followed quickly by, "It's a good thing I don't have any alcohol in the house because I'd be on the floor before I left for the bar." See, WRL, my tolerance is as low as it's ever been. Which, let's admit, is sort of awesome especially when I'm supposed to be putting going-out money into a savings account. I am my own cheap date.

But I'm okay with the fact that my boobs and tolerance are scattered around you, White Rock Lake. Because you've kept me sane and I really enjoy our time together (well, not during the DRC Half, I hated you then). And I like the look you've given me. So thanks. I'm glad that someone made you. Even if it does raise the humidity here. See? See how far I've come, WRL?