There's something odd about having been sick and then seeing people again. This weekend, I visited my parents up at their lake house, as a surprise. On the way, the car that supposedly had an oil change three weeks ago, ran out of oil and made oh so lovely noises. When we took out the dipstick and looked and saw it was dry as a bone, my father's friend said, "Wow, you're lucky that you even made it here" and I said, "Yeah, well God owes me one." And while I don't necessarily really feel that way, because I'm not entirely sure how God fits into the whole thing, but if he can throw me a non-seized engine now and again, I'll take it. My father was so happy to see me; I swear, if he could find a way to have me in his sight at all times he really would. But it was interesting to see how these people who I haven't seen in ages, reacted when they saw me. Some were really excited and wouldn't stop hugging me. Others, well, they kept me at arms length or wouldn't look me in the eye. I get that a lot more than I expected I would. People who don't know what to say, are afraid to ask "how are you feeling" so instead, just kind of barely acknowledge my presence and then look awkwardly around for the quickest exit. I mean, really, if someone asks me how I'm feeling, as purely a conversational piece, I'm always going to say "Great!" And most of the time, I mean it. I do feel great. This weekend I'm going to be walking a half marathon with my best friend Laura in Virigina Beach. People keep asking "what for" and the answer is (and it does sound pretty selfish): Me. I'm doing this for me. A year ago, I couldn't walk a block without feeling out of breath. Now, I'm going to attempt to do 13.1 miles. I mean, it's got to be just as hard as that block was last year. I might not finish, but if I do, and actually no matter how far I get, I'll know that it's much further than I ever would've dreamed possible at this time last year. And that at least is something.