Dear Graduate School Professor
Please stop referring to the 'real world' and the experiences I'll have when I get there. I've been in the real world for several years now. I am not paying you $3,000/quarter to fill a syllabus with real world type situations. You're filling the undergrads (and unemployed graduate students) heads with false notions of editorial analysis and linear review processes that are simply fantastical.
I'd love to have the control and importance to actually receive a manuscript with time to thoroughly review, consider, and edit it. I dream of a conference with the writers when we can discuss the organization and structure of a publication and even spar over the serial comma. What 'real world' does this happen? The majority of the time I'm handed twelve pieces of pre-approved content in nine different formats three days after it was due to the printer and told to make it happen yesterday. I don't worry about complex sentences, I worry about deadlines and SLAs. My biggest issue is not a stubborn writer; it is a page that dropped off of a PDF in the fourth draft but didn't get caught until press time. I'm fully embedded in this 'real world.'
Furthermore, Graduate School Professor, when were you in this 'real world.'? As an editor for a relevent publishing company, I have not yet had to justify my actions to the writer. I've had to cover my ass to the client on countless occasions. My explanations are usually followed with emails and PDFs to prove that I was told to make a change to document.My interactions with writers and clients are CC-ed to at three supervisors (yes, I have three supervisors and maybe four bosses) and all have end goal of on time and error free.
In what 'real world' did you exist before joining the cult of the academic where editors were revered as experts? You should rename that section to "The Editor as a Scapegoat." The only time I've had to explain the alternate uses of the passive voice is when trying to defend my ego against a particularly rude email and/or missed order.
So while we sit here in class at 8:23pm and undergrads are asking mundane questions such as 'so, what if the writer, like, you know, doesn't like listen to you and then they're stuff is like, wrong and people, readers, whatever like read it or whatever. Like, what do you then?" I'm silently screaming, YOU DO IT! THEY PAY YOU AND SO YOU DO IT AND YOU MOVE ON AND WITHIN TWO MONTHS YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT SEMICOLONS ANYMORE.
And I'm also making to do lists and strategies for how I'm going to handle the 20 emails in my inbox, the 200 pages of an Economics proof I need to check, and the 2 chapters I have to read for your class. Graduate school has been more of an exercise in time management than it has been in professional development.
Professor, your 'real world' and my real world conflict. My real world is funding your current world. Please join me on the side of practical, true experience and restrain from ideals and theories. The only place ideals and theories work are your 'real world' of old.
Sincerely,
The-tired-looking-frazzled-student-in-the-corner-with-her-ID-badge-still-attached-making-death-stares-at-the-kid-eating-a-meatball-sub-in-the-middle-of-class.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
Lessons from 7th Grade
My seventh-grade field hockey coach, Ms. Hammond, used to tell all of the girls on the team, “You’re beautiful.” She didn’t really care if we won or lost the game. She wanted us to know, and sometimes repeat it with her, that we were beautiful. This didn’t always sit well with some of the athletic, competitive girls on the team. I remember thinking it was hokey and was probably trying to either fit in the group or stand out among the other girls on theam. I think this is one of the few times in my middle school/junior high/high school career when I remember hearing the word beautiful in reference to myself. When I heard ‘beautiful’ then, my insecure tween mind instantly said, “whatever.” I saw only my bushy hair that my friends always made fun of, my mouth full of metal, the red splots all over my face. It probably made me uncomfortable.
I recall some kind of political move to have Ms. Hammond removed as coach for being ineffective and telling girls they’re beautiful instead of how to hit a ball.
Let’s fast forward 15 (*gasp!*) years. It’s a crisp spring morning and I’m sitting with a group of eight to ten-year-old girls. We’re discussing what makes us beautiful.
“I’m beautiful because I’m a good friend!”
“I’m beautiful because I’m energetic!”
“I’m beautiful because I’m fun!”
“I’m beautiful because I like to read!”
Yes! Yes! Yes! These girls didn’t roll their eyes and get annoyed that we weren’t talking about ways to win or run faster. Parents enrolled their daughters in this program to hear this message.
When I think about Girls on the Run and the impact it’s having on girls, I find my mind wondering back to that open field in southern Chester County where a loony coach made us profess our inner beauty. A few years later, Molly Barker has the same idea only goes about it differently and to a younger group and a revolution begins. Maybe it wasn’t an idea as much as a revelation. No, I don’t like revelation. What would you call it when you just suddenly get it? Why did it take so damn long for people to understand that beauty doesn’t mean ‘pretty’ and that it’s a good idea to tell young girls this?
So when is the correct time to teach this? Always. It matters. Girls on the Run is at times a bit hokey to me as an adult. I thought it was strange as a kid too. But, as an adult I don’t need to recite the alphabet to spell a word and as a kid letters just looked like funny shapes. Eventually, it should become as common as reading to know that our physical appearances or abilities have little to do with our personal beauty.
I’ve realized that not being told things like “you’re beautiful because you’re fun, smart, energetic, a good reader, a good friend, caring, strong, helpful, intelligent,” has the effect of making a woman believe she is either only beautiful because of her appearance or that she nothing because she is not pretty. There are so many issues that women battle with daily that are caused from this ridiculous disconnect.
Please, let’s tell our daughters they’re beautiful because they’re kind, funny, smile a lot, give good hugs, are good friends, laugh, think, cry. Tell them it’s ok to fail and it’s ok to be different and that life is a lot more than other people’s definitions.
I don’t know if Ms.Hammond wanted us to do anything more than have fun and learn the game of field hockey. She probably wanted her lessons to sink in a lot earlier. It only took 15 years but I finally get what she was saying.
PS: Middle school sports were the very start of my relationship with running. I was not a great field hockey player. I'd say average on a good day. But I wanted to be on the team because all my friends were and there really wasn't much else to do in our school district during the fall. I lacked talent but I had heart. When the coaches would tell us to run laps, I'd take off like a bat out of hell to get a lead on the other girls. I'd sprint for the first lap and then slow to a bearable trot for the rest. I may have been guilty of cutting corners and even went as far as to stand towards the outside of the circle so I could get that much more of a jump.
I recall some kind of political move to have Ms. Hammond removed as coach for being ineffective and telling girls they’re beautiful instead of how to hit a ball.
Let’s fast forward 15 (*gasp!*) years. It’s a crisp spring morning and I’m sitting with a group of eight to ten-year-old girls. We’re discussing what makes us beautiful.
“I’m beautiful because I’m a good friend!”
“I’m beautiful because I’m energetic!”
“I’m beautiful because I’m fun!”
“I’m beautiful because I like to read!”
Yes! Yes! Yes! These girls didn’t roll their eyes and get annoyed that we weren’t talking about ways to win or run faster. Parents enrolled their daughters in this program to hear this message.
When I think about Girls on the Run and the impact it’s having on girls, I find my mind wondering back to that open field in southern Chester County where a loony coach made us profess our inner beauty. A few years later, Molly Barker has the same idea only goes about it differently and to a younger group and a revolution begins. Maybe it wasn’t an idea as much as a revelation. No, I don’t like revelation. What would you call it when you just suddenly get it? Why did it take so damn long for people to understand that beauty doesn’t mean ‘pretty’ and that it’s a good idea to tell young girls this?
So when is the correct time to teach this? Always. It matters. Girls on the Run is at times a bit hokey to me as an adult. I thought it was strange as a kid too. But, as an adult I don’t need to recite the alphabet to spell a word and as a kid letters just looked like funny shapes. Eventually, it should become as common as reading to know that our physical appearances or abilities have little to do with our personal beauty.
I’ve realized that not being told things like “you’re beautiful because you’re fun, smart, energetic, a good reader, a good friend, caring, strong, helpful, intelligent,” has the effect of making a woman believe she is either only beautiful because of her appearance or that she nothing because she is not pretty. There are so many issues that women battle with daily that are caused from this ridiculous disconnect.
Please, let’s tell our daughters they’re beautiful because they’re kind, funny, smile a lot, give good hugs, are good friends, laugh, think, cry. Tell them it’s ok to fail and it’s ok to be different and that life is a lot more than other people’s definitions.
I don’t know if Ms.Hammond wanted us to do anything more than have fun and learn the game of field hockey. She probably wanted her lessons to sink in a lot earlier. It only took 15 years but I finally get what she was saying.
PS: Middle school sports were the very start of my relationship with running. I was not a great field hockey player. I'd say average on a good day. But I wanted to be on the team because all my friends were and there really wasn't much else to do in our school district during the fall. I lacked talent but I had heart. When the coaches would tell us to run laps, I'd take off like a bat out of hell to get a lead on the other girls. I'd sprint for the first lap and then slow to a bearable trot for the rest. I may have been guilty of cutting corners and even went as far as to stand towards the outside of the circle so I could get that much more of a jump.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Steps. Effin' Steps.
There are few things more terrifying to runner after a race than a flight of stairs. Sore legs, achy backs, aggravated knees, and blistered feet join forces to make a usually simple motion into a pain fest of annoying proportions. The medal around my neck suddenly felt a lot heavier as I stared at the flight of stairs in front of me.
"Do I really need to go upstairs? Could I live in this hallway?"
"Would it be easier to walk up backwards?"
"Why did I move to the second floor?"
"If I go up there, I'm never coming back down."
"This. is. going. to hurt."
"Ok, quick like a Band-Aid, just go!"
"Oww! No more quick! No more quick! Slow and steady. One more step."
"Holy crap. Never running again."
I conquered the stairs of pain and was in my second-story sanctuary when I was faced with another runner's nightmare. Little mini steps such as curbs, sidewalks, any elevation change that requires contraction of the demolished quads in my legs. The legs holler, NO MORE! STOP MAKING US DO THINGS!
"My god. Who put the steps in this apartment?"
"Oh sure, the sunken living room was adorable at the time, but now I just have to bend my knees and apply pressure to go to the bathroom!"
"I can just sit here on the couch for the rest of my life. There is no pain on the couch."
"Oh, dear god never running again."
Other things that will strike fear into the heart of post-race runner:
-getting in to the car
-getting out of the car
-sitting down
-standing up
-the first few steps
-heels
-unpacking
-that this pain will never fade
-an empty fridge
-never running again
"Do I really need to go upstairs? Could I live in this hallway?"
"Would it be easier to walk up backwards?"
"Why did I move to the second floor?"
"If I go up there, I'm never coming back down."
"This. is. going. to hurt."
"Ok, quick like a Band-Aid, just go!"
"Oww! No more quick! No more quick! Slow and steady. One more step."
"Holy crap. Never running again."
I conquered the stairs of pain and was in my second-story sanctuary when I was faced with another runner's nightmare. Little mini steps such as curbs, sidewalks, any elevation change that requires contraction of the demolished quads in my legs. The legs holler, NO MORE! STOP MAKING US DO THINGS!
"My god. Who put the steps in this apartment?"
"Oh sure, the sunken living room was adorable at the time, but now I just have to bend my knees and apply pressure to go to the bathroom!"
"I can just sit here on the couch for the rest of my life. There is no pain on the couch."
"Oh, dear god never running again."
Other things that will strike fear into the heart of post-race runner:
-getting in to the car
-getting out of the car
-sitting down
-standing up
-crossing your legs
-uncrossing your legs
-the first few steps
-heels
-unpacking
-that this pain will never fade
-an empty fridge
-never running again
Friday, April 29, 2011
My Inconvenient Wedding (Revised)
In honor of the big Royal Wedding this morning, I thought it would be fun to revise and republish my thoughts on the perfect wedding. This was first written in 2009 and posted as a note in Facebook. We've come a long way since then and attended a few more weddings and showers since.
Every little girl dreams of her wedding day. We dream about the dresses, the flowers, the music, the dances, the bridesmaid’s gowns, the honeymoon and the groom. (I almost forgot that last one.)
I've attended many weddings and worked at a banquet hall in a small western Pennsylvania town. From these experiences, I've gathered a lot of ideas and plans for elements and traditions I'd like to incorporate into my own wedding. I thought I'd share some of them.
I want to get married the Tuesday before Thanksgiving 2021. This should be excellent time of year because venues should be cheaper because it's right before the holiday season. I wouldn’t want to be a complete jerk and have it on the most traveled day of the year before an important family-oriented holiday. It should not be a problem for my guests to burn a vacation day and hire a baby sitter.
The ceremony will start at 10:30 or 11 a.m. My guests should just miss the rush hour traffic but probably be starving because it's not a set meal time. I might even be late because there is nothing my guests would enjoy more than sitting on a hard wooden pew with a church full of strangers for a long period of time. The ceremony will conclude around noon but lunch won’t be served until 2. I will provide my guests with directions to the church and to the hotel. I will not, however, provide directions from the church to the reception site or from the reception site to the hotel. It would cost an extra $5 and 10 minutes of planning. While we’re getting our photos taken my lovely guests can drive around aimlessly for three hours and enjoy the scenery and day off from their busy lives.
I am blessed to have a great family and really amazing friends. If I were to include all of my close girl friends, I'd have an eight-person wedding party. (I've maintained that the the number of bridesmaids directly corresponds to the age of the bride and the potential for divorce. If she's 23 and has 12 non family bridesmaids, I'd maybe be conservative on buying anything with a warranty.) I don't like big wedding parties so I've set up qualifiers. No matter how awesome you may be you cannot be in my wedding if you:
I will insist on every possible combination of photo to be taken….. candidly. I still want the obligatory Grandmom/Grandpop/Bride/Groom/Mom/Dad pictures, but not posed. Who likes knowing when they are about to cemented into a person's history? It's much more fun to be stuffing your face with a mini quiche for the photographer than smiling gracefully. But be prepared to have a grumpy photographer sneak up on you several times.
Oh, the flowers! Huge, fragrant and full of allergens is how I roll. I envision GIANT centerpieces that encompass almost the entire table. Who needs room for utensils, plates, glasses when you can stare at a tree for three hours. I do think that it's more fun to cram 10 people to a round table meant for 8 so that everyone can bump elbows and become friends. I think my third cousins will love trying to scream over a huge arrangement of tropical orchids (or something) to talk to one of my coworkers.
My best worst wedding ever idea is my favor. I love the wedding favor. I love the the pointless trinket with our wedding date on it. It can sit in closets and drawers for years- sometimes lasting longer than the marriage itself. I like the frame with the names and dates on it. A guest can only put a picture from my wedding in that frame! How awesome is that? But, since not everyone likes worthless junk that will be trashed before the cake is eaten, I will give all of my lovely guests a card with a donation. To me. I’m not donating that money to research or a charity. In lieu of wedding favors, I’m paying my credit card bill on time. My good credit is the best gift of all, for me.
Every little girl dreams of her wedding day. We dream about the dresses, the flowers, the music, the dances, the bridesmaid’s gowns, the honeymoon and the groom. (I almost forgot that last one.)
I've attended many weddings and worked at a banquet hall in a small western Pennsylvania town. From these experiences, I've gathered a lot of ideas and plans for elements and traditions I'd like to incorporate into my own wedding. I thought I'd share some of them.
I want to get married the Tuesday before Thanksgiving 2021. This should be excellent time of year because venues should be cheaper because it's right before the holiday season. I wouldn’t want to be a complete jerk and have it on the most traveled day of the year before an important family-oriented holiday. It should not be a problem for my guests to burn a vacation day and hire a baby sitter.
I figure that in the next ten years, I’ll attend many more weddings, followed by house-warming parties, followed by baby showers, followed by birthday parties and graduation parties and other gift-requiring celebrations. I’m going to be broke. I do not intend on spending much on my wedding as I’ve probably spent most of my money on buying gifts for others. There will be several cost-cutting measures on my part but at inconvenience of my guests. I'm sure my guests would not hiring a baby sitter, burning a vacation day and fighting rush hour traffic to attend my Friday evening reception so I can save $300 on the reception venue.
- have a tattoo that is visible and would need explained to senile relatives or impressionable children. I'm going to have many a senile relative by that point. If I have to explain the tribal tattoo four times to my aunts, I have to explain it forty times to my mom.
- do not like to get dressed up or dance. I’m not listening to you belly ache about the perils of heels while I’m sucked into a dress and probably won’t have eaten for a month.
- are going to project your past experiences and spend more time talking about how your wedding was or what you did
- are skinnier and prettier than me. You’re out, sorry. Unless you’re willing to pack on some pounds and not wear makeup on that day.
- have any kind of life outside of wedding planning. I'm going to need your undivided attention from engagement shower all the way through to the honeymoon.
I will insist on every possible combination of photo to be taken….. candidly. I still want the obligatory Grandmom/Grandpop/Bride/Groom/Mom/Dad pictures, but not posed. Who likes knowing when they are about to cemented into a person's history? It's much more fun to be stuffing your face with a mini quiche for the photographer than smiling gracefully. But be prepared to have a grumpy photographer sneak up on you several times.
Oh, the flowers! Huge, fragrant and full of allergens is how I roll. I envision GIANT centerpieces that encompass almost the entire table. Who needs room for utensils, plates, glasses when you can stare at a tree for three hours. I do think that it's more fun to cram 10 people to a round table meant for 8 so that everyone can bump elbows and become friends. I think my third cousins will love trying to scream over a huge arrangement of tropical orchids (or something) to talk to one of my coworkers.
Get your dancing shoes ready for my inconvenient wedding. We’re doing all the dance combos out there Father/daughter, mother/son, grandparents, parents, siblings, bridal party together, bridal party with respective spouses, couple’s first slow dance/fast dance/choreographed dance/ kids dance/ bridal dance (so you can give me more money). If you leave at the end of night having not been able to cut a rug because your current social situation didn't allow for name to be called, mission accomplished. It's been my experience that best way to get pegged as "single and pathetic" at a wedding is when the DJ plays the "couple's dance" and you're the only one still sitting. It's fun and really a great way to meet the losers single people at the party.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Diary of a Wimpy Runner
Runner Confession:
I'm a wimp- a wimp with a very large tolerance for pain and a larger dislike of doctors. I will interview CEOs and go toe-to-toe with academic department chairs, but when it comes to making a doctor's appointment, I throw temper tantrums. My knees started to bother me soon after starting karate. Ninja-ing, as I like to call it, is a lot of kicking, jumping, squatting, jump squatting, lunges, more jumping, twisting, spinning, and more kicking. All of these actions are very different from the one foot in front of the other motion of running. The discomfort was not surprising and would easily remedied with a dose of glutimine in my post-ninja smoothie.
One night in early November, we did nothing but right leg front kicks. We worked on form and power. And my right knee has not been the same. I woke up the next day and went for a run and felt fine. I wore heels to the office and noticed some extra soreness.
I should note here that the combination of karate and running means that I'm almost always sore. Before I started karate, I was doing strength training with a personal trainer. At this point, I'm able to recognize typical muscle soreness from something-ain't-right. Soreness means your muscles are growing or changing. There are exercise-y people with scientific definitions and reasons for why soreness is a good thing.
Back to the night of my knee. I woke up two days after the front-kick fest and was greeted with a sharp, burning fire sensation in my right knee. I iced it throughout the day and kept my leg elevated. I bought a cheap-o knee brace from CVS that afternoon and felt immediate relief after putting it on. I went to ninja that night and out to the bar after.
A dull ache has persisted in my right knee since. I've iced. I worn the stupid, cumbersome knee brace that makes my thigh look like a sausage. The brace helps the knee but hurts the rest of my leg. I've diagnosed myself with runners knees, torn meniscus, sprained ligaments, tendinitis, arthritus, and the same thing that Chase Utley has. I'm on the DL list.
While the breakdown in my runnerness of late has come from a busy schedule and conflicting priorities, there is also a little voice in the back of my head saying, "ummm..... maybe this needs looked at." And also a louder, nag-type real voice from boyfriend and mother telling me the same thing. Here's the thing: I hate doctors. I resist going until I'm on my figurative death bed. I subscribe to my father's theory of illness, "I can go to the doctors and get meds and I'll be better in seven days. Or I can just let my body heal and I'll be better in a week." I even resist taking OTC medicine until orange juice fails me.
It took me three months to gather the courage to call an orthopedic doctor. I faked that I was looking for recommenations. I wanted to wait until after Gasparilla. Honestly, I'm scared! Dr. Google and the staff of Runner's World have the rational side of me convinced that this a minor injury that can be healed with ice and rest. The irrational side of me has been listening to my mother too much and is pretty sure that I'm going to need a total knee replacement and will never be able to run again. I'll just have to learn to swim or bike or deal with my emotions through a non-physical outlet. The horror! Even worse, the irrational side has a 60-40 majority.
My appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping that I will be a waste of the doctor's time and this chronic dull ache is just a symptom of overuse. But, what if it's not?
I'm a wimp- a wimp with a very large tolerance for pain and a larger dislike of doctors. I will interview CEOs and go toe-to-toe with academic department chairs, but when it comes to making a doctor's appointment, I throw temper tantrums. My knees started to bother me soon after starting karate. Ninja-ing, as I like to call it, is a lot of kicking, jumping, squatting, jump squatting, lunges, more jumping, twisting, spinning, and more kicking. All of these actions are very different from the one foot in front of the other motion of running. The discomfort was not surprising and would easily remedied with a dose of glutimine in my post-ninja smoothie.
One night in early November, we did nothing but right leg front kicks. We worked on form and power. And my right knee has not been the same. I woke up the next day and went for a run and felt fine. I wore heels to the office and noticed some extra soreness.
I should note here that the combination of karate and running means that I'm almost always sore. Before I started karate, I was doing strength training with a personal trainer. At this point, I'm able to recognize typical muscle soreness from something-ain't-right. Soreness means your muscles are growing or changing. There are exercise-y people with scientific definitions and reasons for why soreness is a good thing.
Back to the night of my knee. I woke up two days after the front-kick fest and was greeted with a sharp, burning fire sensation in my right knee. I iced it throughout the day and kept my leg elevated. I bought a cheap-o knee brace from CVS that afternoon and felt immediate relief after putting it on. I went to ninja that night and out to the bar after.
A dull ache has persisted in my right knee since. I've iced. I worn the stupid, cumbersome knee brace that makes my thigh look like a sausage. The brace helps the knee but hurts the rest of my leg. I've diagnosed myself with runners knees, torn meniscus, sprained ligaments, tendinitis, arthritus, and the same thing that Chase Utley has. I'm on the DL list.
While the breakdown in my runnerness of late has come from a busy schedule and conflicting priorities, there is also a little voice in the back of my head saying, "ummm..... maybe this needs looked at." And also a louder, nag-type real voice from boyfriend and mother telling me the same thing. Here's the thing: I hate doctors. I resist going until I'm on my figurative death bed. I subscribe to my father's theory of illness, "I can go to the doctors and get meds and I'll be better in seven days. Or I can just let my body heal and I'll be better in a week." I even resist taking OTC medicine until orange juice fails me.
It took me three months to gather the courage to call an orthopedic doctor. I faked that I was looking for recommenations. I wanted to wait until after Gasparilla. Honestly, I'm scared! Dr. Google and the staff of Runner's World have the rational side of me convinced that this a minor injury that can be healed with ice and rest. The irrational side of me has been listening to my mother too much and is pretty sure that I'm going to need a total knee replacement and will never be able to run again. I'll just have to learn to swim or bike or deal with my emotions through a non-physical outlet. The horror! Even worse, the irrational side has a 60-40 majority.
My appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I'm hoping that I will be a waste of the doctor's time and this chronic dull ache is just a symptom of overuse. But, what if it's not?
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Don't call it a comeback
But I ran on 4 of the past 5 days. This hasn't happened in months!
Don't call it a comeback. I’m resetting. I'm starting over. I'm redefining my relationship with running and what being a runner will mean to me in the future and how it got me to this point.
I started "really" running in the fall of 2008. I was sad, lonely, and miserable. Things change. Addresses, friends, jobs, goals, priorities, relationships, families, interests, everything, attitudes--change.
Fast forward to 2011 and I’m anything but sad, lonely or miserable. I’m crazy busy and happier than ever. I keep getting bogged down in what my running used to be. It was a defense mechanism and a way of establishing myself in my own terms. I used to run when I was unhappy. I used to run to prove it. I used to run because I didn’t have anything else do to. I used to run because I was afraid of gaining weight. I used to run because I wanted to be stronger, faster, leaner. I used to run because other people didn’t. I used to run because I needed to feel some form of accomplishment in the day. I used to run because I did not feel good about myself.
Those deep-seated motivators simply don’t light a fire under my feet anymore. I’m not so worried about gaining a few pounds because I’ve finally learned that what is in my head is far more important my pant size.
I used to run to prove “it.” I would run through or over whatever “it” that was missing in my life or the “it” that I was not succeeding with. I had to prove I was something outside of ‘editor’ or the unhappy person I was on the verge of becoming. Would you rather have someone say, “oh, she’s a runner,” or “oh, she’s a bitch.” I might have made another mistake at work, but I ran 6 miles that morning. I don’t see the connection either but that got me through the day. I might not have any one to go home to but there was always a treadmill waiting for me. I didn’t need anyone because I had my sneakers and myself. Get it?
Running is often about challenging yourself and reaching deep down to see how far you can go. I now know I can run 13.1 miles and am capable of doing more. It taught me how to set goals and plan. I don’t feel the same urge to go further and faster. I’ve achieved the goals I wanted to achieve through running and in a few months will have achieved some significant life goals as well.
I’m currently working a new set of running and life goals. The past month(s) off was not a slump. It was a reset. I will continue to run and sign up for races and buy adorable running clothes because I simply enjoy it. It’s a part of my life now but it is not my life now. I have an ultimate goal of running 2011 Philadelphia Marathon in November and beating my half-marathon PR of 2:09. But first, I have a Master’s degree to complete, a career to manage, boyfriend to spend time with, and a family I’d like to see more than once every three months.
As my favorite singer/song-writer and this blog’s namesake once said,
Don't call it a comeback. I’m resetting. I'm starting over. I'm redefining my relationship with running and what being a runner will mean to me in the future and how it got me to this point.
I started "really" running in the fall of 2008. I was sad, lonely, and miserable. Things change. Addresses, friends, jobs, goals, priorities, relationships, families, interests, everything, attitudes--change.
Fast forward to 2011 and I’m anything but sad, lonely or miserable. I’m crazy busy and happier than ever. I keep getting bogged down in what my running used to be. It was a defense mechanism and a way of establishing myself in my own terms. I used to run when I was unhappy. I used to run to prove it. I used to run because I didn’t have anything else do to. I used to run because I was afraid of gaining weight. I used to run because I wanted to be stronger, faster, leaner. I used to run because other people didn’t. I used to run because I needed to feel some form of accomplishment in the day. I used to run because I did not feel good about myself.
Those deep-seated motivators simply don’t light a fire under my feet anymore. I’m not so worried about gaining a few pounds because I’ve finally learned that what is in my head is far more important my pant size.
I used to run to prove “it.” I would run through or over whatever “it” that was missing in my life or the “it” that I was not succeeding with. I had to prove I was something outside of ‘editor’ or the unhappy person I was on the verge of becoming. Would you rather have someone say, “oh, she’s a runner,” or “oh, she’s a bitch.” I might have made another mistake at work, but I ran 6 miles that morning. I don’t see the connection either but that got me through the day. I might not have any one to go home to but there was always a treadmill waiting for me. I didn’t need anyone because I had my sneakers and myself. Get it?
Running is often about challenging yourself and reaching deep down to see how far you can go. I now know I can run 13.1 miles and am capable of doing more. It taught me how to set goals and plan. I don’t feel the same urge to go further and faster. I’ve achieved the goals I wanted to achieve through running and in a few months will have achieved some significant life goals as well.
I’m currently working a new set of running and life goals. The past month(s) off was not a slump. It was a reset. I will continue to run and sign up for races and buy adorable running clothes because I simply enjoy it. It’s a part of my life now but it is not my life now. I have an ultimate goal of running 2011 Philadelphia Marathon in November and beating my half-marathon PR of 2:09. But first, I have a Master’s degree to complete, a career to manage, boyfriend to spend time with, and a family I’d like to see more than once every three months.
As my favorite singer/song-writer and this blog’s namesake once said,
“I’ve got more and more to do/ I’ve got less and less to prove/ And it took me too long to realize that I don’t take good picture/because I have the kind of beauty that moves.”
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Defeat at Gasparilla: Running without Respect
In my last post, I was expressing concerns and excitement over the Publix's Gasparilla Distance Classic Michelob Ultra Challenge. I was going to be running a 15K and 5K on Saturday and a half marathon and 8K on Sunday. And attempting to say the entire name of the race correctly, holy brand names! Well, friends. I did not complete the challenge. I got through the 15K and 5K on Saturday.
My legs were a little more sore than I would have liked as I was lining up for the second race on Saturday morning. I heard someone in the corral say that the 5+ 3K was 5 miles. When I thought that a 5 + 3K was 4 miles, it was bearable. But the thought of having to run 5 miles after running 13.1 miles when my legs were tired enough after having only run 15K, was just overwhelming. I decided then and there on the spot that I wasn't going to do the fourth race.
My favorite part of the entire weekend was that I was running the majority of the half marathon with my friend, Kylie. This was her first half and she did so well. She maintained a strong pace and didn't stop once. We were together until around mile 4 when I got a call from Mother Nature. I jumped into the slowest line ever for a porta potty and promised Kylie I'd catch up. I ended up doing a sprint/walk/sprint/walk combo for about the next three or four miles, finally catching her at around mile 6. I The sprinting wore me out (or the 13 miles the day before) and by mile 11, I just couldn't go anymore. I watched Kylie's white hat and long pony-tail truck forward and was crushed. It was one of my worst runner moments ever. I so wanted to cross that finish line with her. Finding her at the finish line and our sore, slow walk back to the car was one of my best runner moments.
It's been a few weeks and I'm still digesting my defeat at Gasparilla. My head and heart were never really in any of the races. I was too busy with work, school and social life to have properly trained for ANY distance race. I knew that. I could not rely on the confidence of good training. I expected the ego and hubris of having run so many other half marathons and distance races to carry me for 30 miles. Stretching and hydration, I thought, would be the keys to success. I stretched. I drank loads of water and Gatorade. I ate super well. I did not train.
I said I was doing this four-race challenge because "I needed a win." To be honest, the amount my butt getting kicked to me kicking butt lately has been disproportionate. But I lost. And I needed to lose. I needed to be reminded that just like everything in this world, runnning requires dedication and practice. You can not just think about running. You have to respect the distance and the sport.
I allowed, or had to allow, life get in the way of running this winter. I had three very challenging graduate classes, an overwhelming amount of work and stress, a new apartment, a new (real) relationship and simply did not have the time, or energy, to properly train. I have to respect my limitations and learn from this experience.
Even though I didn't complete that fourth race and the three races prior weren't my best, I did run 25 miles in one weekend. And that is STILL something to be happy about. Maybe next year, when grad school is done and I've finally unpacked this apartment, I'll train properly and return to Gasparilla for round 3.
I may have lost that battle, but I'm gonna win this war!
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