Friday, June 7, 2013

Another Blog Post About Running


Hello, humans.
Here is a picture of me racing when I was a freshman in high school. 
   About twoish weeks ago, one of my best friends in the entire universe convinced me (way to easily I might add) to run a half marathon with her in September. Now I don’t know if you know this, but this past year I decided I’d become a maverick with my running and, like Sarah Palin, just kinda “do my own thing”. I didn’t want to be on someone else’s plan or agenda; I just wanted to run for me. So how I have managed to not only be convinced to sign up for a half marathon, but also now be on an actual training plan, workouts and all, is beyond me. Although I think it has something to do with the fact that my friend used an excited and happy tone when she asked. Like one that implies that there will probably be lunch or at least cupcakes after all this is over. Kinda like how someone could say, “lets go get all three of your Gardasil shots at once!!” and I would totally be down if it meant a latte and a fresh red velvet cookie afterwards.

   So anyway, I’ve started a training plan again. Two days ago, on National Running Day I might add, I went to my high school’s home XC course to get in a hill workout. It only seemed like yesterday that I had been doing a hill workout, late in the season of my senior year of XC, and thinking to myself, “this is my last hill workout ever on this bloody course”. Well played, fate. Well played.

   Instead of driving to the course, which is merely ¾ of a mile from my house, I decided to use that short distance as the warm-up part of my inherent doom, I mean workout. As I ran through my town, I was reminded that nothing defined summer running through downtown like the overwhelming smell combination of Pizza Inn and cigarettes, or the constant fear of nearly getting sideswiped by gigantic trucks with way-to-big wheels on them.

   When I arrived at the course, I was hit with large fireball of nostalgia. Not like a physical, tangible fireball because we don’t have those in Christiansburg. Just an intense, emotional fireball. Suddenly I kept having flashbacks of past workouts. I didn’t like them. Then I thought about texting my old coach, who is terrified of snakes, and telling him that I found a colony of snakes next to one of the bushes on the course. But then I remembered I didn’t have my phone. I guess the karma for having that thought was then becoming very skittish and thinking that any movement or line that I saw in the grass was a snake. Every time I made that assumption, I would foolishly jump around like a dummy and scream and pee a little bit.

   The beginning of the workout was great. I had tons of energy and felt unstoppable. By the last two hill repeats, however, I felt like death was upon me, and was hoping one of those snakes would take me out so I didn’t have to run all the way home again. Also, you know how the ocean has schools of fish? Well I kept accidentally catching and swallowing schools of gnats in my mouth.

   Overall the workout went well and gave me confidence that summer training wasn’t such a bad thing… other than the fact that I have a 90-minute run on Sunday. That’s just a load of bullshit that I’m not quite ready to conquer.

   Now I just have one thing to promise my faithful readers before I come to the conclusion of this blog post, I just want to say this: I promise that I will not contaminate my blog with more posts detailing my training. In other words, this is not the beginning of a running log because they’re not fun to write and they’re REALLY not fun to read. And since I care about you guys, I could never put you through that.

    I do want to say that, regardless of my apparent pessimism, I really am pumped for this training adventure even though it is likely that I won’t stick to it completely because I’ve already skipped two runs… in the first week.

   But whatever because the whole point of this is to run for myself and do my own thing, so if I want to put off my runs until 11:00pm, I will! If I want to stop during a run and get some ice cream from Custard Corner, you better believe I will. Because this is America.

Happy two days after National Running Day, y’all.

xo,

EE

Monday, June 3, 2013

75% Adult



I just want to whine about some things for a second.
 
My Gatsby party that has, to date, been the most glamorous part of my summer. 
    First of all, so far, summer isn’t grand. Summer isn’t majestic. Summer isn’t that much of a bummer, though. Summer just is good. Its taken me a solid month to get myself to write, even though I promised myself that the day I got back from school I would start writing faster and more uncontrollably than a [Insert a stereotype, a euphemism, a some sort of reference to something relevant in society]. Here’s one reason I don’t write that much anymore. This summer I decided to do something astronomical. Something so incredibly out of character for me, that sometimes I have to stop myself in my tracks and remind myself of this great success in my life.

   I decided to get a job.

    That’s right, a job. A real, paying, had-to-get-a-drug-test-for job. A job that occurs consistently throughout the week; A job that actually pays money through the banking system; A job that isn’t mowing my terrifying neighbor’s lawn in exchange for free piano lessons at which she coughs on me, and yells at me to sit up straight, almost simultaneously.

   My job is great. It involves working with people I like, getting to do something different everyday, and chatting with old people sometimes. It’s kind of a dream.

   With the responsibility of a job, though, comes the reality that I actually can’t always say, “Girlfrand, I can hang out whenever cause I’m not doing ANYTHING this summer.” I’ve been saying “I may need to check my schedule” for years when people asked me to partake in various future activities, even though I didn’t have a physical schedule to check. I just said that because I’d been prone to committing to things that in the end I couldn’t participate in or, when it came down to, didn’t want to participate in. Also, saying “I’ll check my schedule” sounds way more sophisticated than, “I’ll ask my mom what’s on the sched for the month”.

   But now when someone asks if I want to do something within the future, I have to actually, physically pull out my folded up schedule from my backpack (thank God its on a piece of paper, because if it was online, I would totally lose it), read my schedule, and actually plan months in advance for the activities of my life. It’s like being an adult, but I’m really only 75% adult, give or take.

   To get to my point, I have obviously come to the conclusion that this summer is about working, making money, trying to be slightly more like an adult, and playing Jolene on the ukulele 134,543,546 times in order to say I’m “learning” ukulele.

   At first this actuality was very depressing for me. Mostly because, have I mentioned I’m horribly unrealistic? But honestly, this being a boring adult for the summer is good for me. Because if I can stand being a boring adult in order to make money that will surely lead to me spending next summer, or the summer after, abroad, then it has to be worth it. It has to. IT HAS TO!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But here is one bad part that is coming of this more sensible and responsible path of life. After working the long periods of time, of up to three to seven hours (revert back to me saying 75% adult), I’ll come home and not feel like doing anything. All I want to do is watch television. Lately, in the midst of enjoying the comeback of Arrested Development, I’ve been re-watching… for the millionth time… you guessed it… 30 Rock.

   I can’t help it. That show is like home to me. I laugh at it over and over again; the idea that lazy, ugly people can be successful comedy writers inspires me. That show just “gets me” and I return the favor by finding the weirdness of it so familiar and comforting.

   Here is the only slightly good, slightly bad part: Liz Lemon’s character brings out the old, sarcastic, mean, hairy, “saying yes to staying in more”, meatball sub eating, eastern European bitch I really am. I find myself always making up excuses for staying at home and going to bed early. Some nights, nothing sounds better than watching several Netflix episodes of said television shows, or a classic musical if I’m feeling a little more gay. I’ve even signed up for a morning (6:00am) yoga class in order to be a “better Eliza”, and have already deemed that a terrible decision.
My own personal LL screen shot that seems to summarize my life right now.
  I’ve even found myself saying “I think I’ll go to bed now I’ve got work in the morning,” after which I immediately think of this.

  BUT the good news is, I’m making money and working hard, so I can always #yolo* next summer right?

  Yeah whatever. Here’s to the summer of Eliza, the old lady! Or in that case I should say, Elza, which is my old gyspy-lady name.

EE




*#yolo-ing is something that I have found to be very expensive.