Monday, June 29, 2015

emotional unavailability #ItsAThing

Yea, that’s a thing. At least I think it’s a thing. I’ve been hearing about it more and more from friends, from strangers, from cute runners. You know, that well…life happened to them, and took their emotions with them. Or something like that. I even defined it in that book thingie I wrote that one time. There are lots of different types of unavailability when it comes to men, you know. So I published a glossary of the various types. You know...to help the people out. Because we have this fascination with classifying and defining things. Instead of just letting things be. #ThatIsAWholeNothaOthaPost

emotionally unavailable[ih-moh-shuh-nl-lee · uhn-a-vey-luh-buhl] adjective  
the worst kind of unavailable to be. He’s sometimes single, but most often times in a complicated situation that’s likely going to end – soon. He’s been abused in this last/complicated relationship and he doubts his ability or desire to love. Or, he’s treated that last woman like an ass because of whatever has happened between them, now sees the error of his ways, and he’s ready to move on, but there is no way to really “end” it because something is still there. Love, or something like it, or feelings, or emotions, or both of their names on the lease. He uses the words “emotionally unavailable” to keep you at a distance because, bottom line, he’s afraid, and he wants to live the bachelor life for a while. He really digs you, just not this you, right now. In a few months, he might be ready for something more substantial, but right now, he’s DTF if you’re DTF. No judgments. Just F.

I thought that at one point in my life (well multiple times…stop fact checking my blog) that I was emotionally unavailable. Hurt does that to you. Loss does that to you. Not knowing why – yep…does it to ya! Knowing why? Does it even worse. The knowing is always worse – way worse #TrustMe #IveDoneThatResearchToo. There is no Untelling #ThatWasAGoodBook. You will always know. You will never forget. Going from feeling like, you’ll never be as beautiful as you are right now to knowing, gurl, you wasn’t cute…none of the time …yeah, that takes something from you.

But honestly, I was emotional before that, all through it, and even in this season of growing beyond it. Hella emotional bro. Hella. And perhaps my not being ready to be anything to anyone, or not believing I could be anything to anyone, or would ever be anything to anyone made me “unavailable”, but it really didn’t. It just meant that I was an emotionally beautiful disaster. And, until I did something about it, I wasn’t going to be any good to anyone. Especially myself. Lord knows I was no good to me.

That didn’t mean that I wasn’t capable of creating something beautiful. Or that I needed to figure out my mess all by my lonesome first, before something wonderful could happen to me. Most love, real love, at least in my humble opinion, starts in the broken parts. That’s where you get to know me. That’s where the secrets to loving me are lost. Every important thing you will ever know about me is there. And my emotional mess exposes it.

I don’t really believe in emotional unavailability. I believe we all make choices. We decide who we are every day. Sometimes that choice  is a conscious affirmation of the person we want to be. Other times, we purposefully choose something else, because who we want seems too burdensome to be. Then, generally where I am, there are those who abdicate the decision making process – abstaining is the most some of us can do. And there is nothing wrong with any of those. There is also nothing wrong with not looking for a word or phrase to describe what you are #NotMarketingThatGlossaryIWroteSoGood. You can just be. That's cool too bro. 

That is the beauty of this flawed humanity. Regardless of our desire to feel anything, or give anything, it happens anyway. Someone will eventually poke you from behind when you least expect it - because you were talking about bacon taffy and not expecting to be poked at all. And it will make you feel something that surprises you, mostly because of who you were saying you were. I don’t think any of us are emotionally unavailable. We just run low on courage. It takes courage to feel – especially when you’ve done it and it didn’t work out the way you planned. That’s never easy. It’s necessary. It definitely has to be done. And if you’re afraid, do it then.

That’s the perfect time.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Epic. Summer. PR. #andBacon

…because what’s the point of running a repeat race if it doesn’t count for something? ~Dr. Splits on Trees & Alicia Keykey

They were right. What’s the point? If you’re going to run a repeat race, make it worth the #15in2015 #2015kIn2015. What’s left on the list? Well, I need the miles because I’m so behind. Okay, got it. What else? The only viable options for this race was to run with a new friend, or PR. And since we know I’m not about to PR, I need to make me a new friend… Or perhaps find a race to run on Monday and do back to back races.

Right. Make a new friend. #RunTwerkDrink(Eat)Repeat

At the Race Expo I did everything but make a new friend. I got my jelly belly energy and recovery beans, took my #EpicSummerRun race bib photo, and I sampled all the healthy serious runner nutritional things. Because, well, I’m a serious athlete. I even took the tour of the new #RnRHeavyMedals! OMG! I want them ALL! Perused the course map *looks the same as last year* and shaded a couple of classes people.

But, beach. So we left. And I did not make a single new friend. Ugh.

That’s okay though. I’m in San Diego, and I am going to have an amazing time. That’s more than enough. I’ve got half a year left to be great. I’ll be great then. Today, I’m chillin’.

And that was the plan. Show up, run a good race, then binge on wine and bacon. Because, Temecula and Slater's 50/50.

START: *marathon start* Dammit! I gotta pee. I hate these damn porta-potties. *my knee hurts* #JesusBeABalmInGilead

Mile 1: I actually feel good. I honestly think this is going to be a good run. Look at me being all positive and whatnot. Go Girl. Look at God work in your life!

Mile 2: Okay, maybe this is going to just be an “okay” run. *rubs knee* But, I’m still surprisingly positive. Go Figure?

Mile 3: That. Smells. Delicious! OMG! Who is making breakfast out here like that? Imma need a biscuit and some local honey. #allergies

Mile 4: Open Bar? For real though? You’re just going to make specialty drinks right in front of me? #TheyTriedIt

Mile 5: Shots of patron? Bruh!!!!!! C’mon legs…jog to the left just a little. Grab that cup…Remember, you gotta make a new friend! No? I gotta keep running? #ThisSucks #iHateSanDiego #andByHateImeanILoveThisPlace

Mile 6: Look at this mess. Half Marathon Relay exchange. People are finished running. And I’m out here acting like my knee don’t hurt and that refreshed runner over there doesn’t want to be my new friend.

Mile 7: Soooooo. You’re just going to pass me with a running stroller? You tried it. *turns jets on* I’m the RunLeader Dammit! Ask about me homey.

Mile 8: Okay. Maybe turning on the jets was a little premature. Lemme slow down and act like the 3 hour plus HALF of a marathon runner that likes to wear heels that I am.

Mile 9: That gottdamn hill. How in the hell did I forget about this? Fawwwwk! I quit. It’s not worth it Miss Celie.

Mile 10: This gottdamn Big 10 Water/Aid Station. No Mr. Ohio State Man, I don’t want nothing from you. #Michigan #FabFive #AllDay

Mile 11: Father God, if I don’t make it, please allow my phone batter to send a GPS signal to somebody to find my body…so I can be resuscitated and have wine with my friends.

Mile 12: That dude though. Heeeeey Bae! How You Doin??? Mr. No Shirt Running the Marathon Looking All Refreshed … while I’m over here dragging in this half looking all…oh…my…God…what…do…I…look…like? #RunToTheOtherSideOfTheStreet *prays he didn’t see me*

Mile 13: If there isn’t any chocolate milk at the finish OR if Alicia Keykey drinks it all, heads will rock and roll!!!! #seewhatididthere?

Mile 13(0.1): Welp. You tried it. Well, kinda not really, but hey, it was a good effort in running a good race. You’ll get that PR one day. But today? You’re getting wine and bacon. You did good! You iz impo’tant.
         
Finish: Awwwww… Looked at my homeys all waiting for me to finish. I luhhhh dem! Now about that wine and bacon? #ImFocusedMan #Priorities #DrinksChocolateMilk

I was pretty over this whole situation. I ran a decent race. I was in San Diego with my friends. I felt pretty good, despite my knee. I was pretty done with running in that moment, and ready to enjoy the rest of my #Racecation #Runcation.

We made it back to the hotel and began the dance of getting ready for our adventures. Out of sheer curiosity, I decided to take a look at my time to see how I did. I mean, the last #EpicSummerRun was awesome, and I ended up running my fastest time. Sure I didn’t run my fastest time today, but I probably did better than I think I did, right? I mean, I actually feel good, right?

*screams*screams*screams*MORE SCREAMS*

Yup. You guessed. It. Got that PR. By 6 minutes. 6 whole minutes.

I can’t with myself sometimes. There are all of the things to say about this. Mostly, one would think that I’ve learned by now that my subconscious’ will to be great is too strong to be anything but great.

Flawless victory on the pavement. And I had no idea I even did it.


#15ThingsIn2015 Challenge
5 new states (Louisiana – 1 down, 4 to go)
4 new friends (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby; My Child – 2 down, 2 to go)
3 new running events (Shamrock Half; St Charles Road Race; Orange County Half – 3 down, 0 to go)
2 back-to-back running events
1 Half Marathon PR (Rock N Roll San Diego! 6 minutes! – 1 down, 0 to go)

Monday, June 22, 2015

The Things I Do For Medals #OCwasntEvenOnTheList

I dug. I don't race/plan/prepare too good.
I could be more excited about running with Rikki (remember her tutu nonsense) after our awesome time in Las Vegas…could be. But I’m realizing what I’ve signed up to do. It seemed like a great idea. How did it happen? Funny you should wonder.

Well, Rikki got a free race entry with her company. So, when she thought she wasn’t running, running for free seemed like a thing, so she signed up. When she shared this with me I was all proud and happy and whatnot. All of the emotions, without a single intention of doing this race, because it’s like her thing and you’re happy for her.

That is, until you find out you have to be in Southern California the Monday & Tuesday after the race you’re so excited about for Rikki. Now it’s the race that you’re doing because you don’t care about her being great all by herself, or your health. You really don’t give a damn about your health – because you already working on your pre-race party plans. #YouTotallyWantMyLife

Plans which were pretty awesome! I got to spend time with my She-Ro *long story I’ll probably never tell you about, not because it’s private, just because, wait, what was I saying* and I even got to see #ConferenceHubby for a bit. We drank and merry’d, pool’d and hot tub’d, then slept all the way back to Rikki’s… Literally one of the best days ever! #ToldYa #YouSoooooWantMyLife

START: You know… Running isn’t a bad idea. It’s actually pretty awesome. But the way you do it *yes, I’m talking to myself* sucks! You live it up at the pool with friends, drink yummy wine, eat delicious cheese dips and whatnot, then come out here to this… To only leave directly after this for a two-day work conference. Not cool ‘teezy. Not. Cool.

Mile 1: I can feel my lungs coming through my sports bra. You have no idea what kind of pressure it takes to feel that. Yes, I have on 2 sports bras. You know, not finishing is a real possibility. Did you write your medical information on the back of your bib? #OfCourseNot

Mile 2: Nope. You didn’t. And the only person who knows you is running, in this same race, ahead of you. You’re going to be somewhere on the side of the road in Orange County, gasping your last taste of smoggy air. You are hopeless.

Mile 3: You’re a hopeless dramatic. That’s what you are. Just run. Why do you always create these unfortunate life running stories? How are you this creative about your demise?

Mile 4: Okay lady. I see you attempting to pace yourself with me. You realize that’s not an accomplishment, right? An elderly woman with a dog, baby stroller and cast on her left shoulder passed me running a mile ago. You won’t even get on the honorable mention roster for beating my time.

Mile 5: So, you’re just going to run past me, then stop IN FRONT of me and start walking again? Do you realize that Rick Ross just came on my playlist? I just shot you *in my mind*

Mile 6: But I didn’t do a good job cause you ain’t’een’die. Lemme get some Jesus music on before I try to kill you *in my mind* again.

Mile 7: Lord, please hold back the sun. I know that’s a silly thing to ask living in California and all, but I’m so dehydrated right now – and we in a drought God. I’m just not able…

Mile 8: I seriously don’t even know where I am right now. I should pay more attention. I am literally following people.

Mile 9: If this bish don’t stop this running, walking, in front of me, next to me mess, I’m going to lose my salvation! I have none to spare! It took me 2 miles to forgive that tramp. Okay. Forgive me for calling her a tramp. *puts gospel music back on*

Mile 10: I ain’t living right. Let me change this playlist again. How am I singing about being redeemed and coming up with new ways to assassinate this hussie at the same time *I didn’t call her a tramp* *okay, fine, you’re right, I know I’m wrong*
        
     Tupac – Wonder Why They Call You Bish *literally comes on*

Mile 11: Here comes the sun. Welp. That’s it. I hope they lay me to rest with my favorite medals… #HitTheMileMarker #ImSweatin

Mile 12: Wait. Get your life. You’re about to have #MedalMonday at the Chancellor’s Office with Shannnnnn. She just ran her first half marathon! Look at you committing mental felonies and whatnot. Get your entire life and medal! It’s about to be poppin!!!!

Mile 13: Man, efff #MedalMonday. I’m hella hungry! And my feet hurt. That’s what I Get for all those times I killed that evil lady in my subconscious. My feet definitely hate me.

Mile 13(0.1): The OC Fairgrounds is stupid. This whole place is dumb. I wanna go. Why are all these people looking at me? Oh….heeeeey bae! How you doin? Fancy meeting you here. Oh me? You know, just running and whatnot. Being all cute and athletic and awesome. Oh, behind me? What’s that? Oh, the person you’re actually here to see? My bad. Let me slide my delusional self out the way.
         
Finish: You need Jesus. Jesus The Christ. And every angel in His assembly. You really thought he was talking to you though? You realize the person you came here with is female, right? As in, NOBODY KNOWS YOU. #ICantLord
Unless you're me. Then finishing is kinda miraculous.

I don’t know why I think my body can do anything. Like, well. I think that my body can do anything well...very well, actually. Most normal, rationally functioning human beings, who run, would never do it the way I do it. And I know I hate it, but I do it anyway. Right? You don’t understand it either.

Just pray for me. And make mimosas for me. Do both of those things. And my feet? You could hook up a good foot rubbin... What's that? Nah?

Okay, then. Mimosa it is.





#15ThingsIn2015 Challenge
5 new states (Louisiana – 1 down, 4 to go)
4 new friends (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby; My Child – 2 down, 2 to go)
3 new running events (Shamrock Half; St Charles Road Race; Orange County Half – 2 down, 1 to go)
2 back-to-back running events
1 Half Marathon PR

Sunday, June 21, 2015

A Blog For My Father #andasongtoo

Daddy. Papa. Father. The Paterfamilias. Pops. Daddie.

A man known by many names. A name that some of us all know instantly the meaning. We know exactly who that man is, when his name is called, by his people…his little people. He is mine, and I am his, it doesn’t matter what I did (let’s face it, you know me), or where we are. He always sees me just as I am. And on this day, I am running towards him…

But before that day (well, chronologically after, but before in the recollection of the memories…you know my mental life) I was running to a song. A song I learned about in my Introduction To Jazz Class  at UCLA. Taught by someone else’s paterfamilias.

I was in Osh Kosh, Wisconsin, meeting my twin sister from a different Mommie and Mister. See, we have the same birth day, but the years got a little off. Anyway, I was in Wisconsin, all the way from Arkansas, on a recruitment trip for our graduate school and residential life program. We were deeply engaged in some professionally social conversation when I heard the first instrument. Literally the first note. Now, I can’t tell you what note that actually was, because well, Physiological Sciences degree, but my heart knows it.

I stopped mid conversation, literally, in the middle of speaking, and told them I had to go. Actually, I’m not sure I even said anything. I was like Shug that fateful Sunday. I was doing something, and then I wasn’t. Because what I was doing didn’t matter like what I needed to be doing…in the place I needed to be. Just like the Lord was speaking to her, that song was speaking to me. I had to find where the music was coming from. Nothing else mattered #SeekingTheMaster #GodsTrynToTellYouSomething. Nobody else mattered. Not in that moment. I had to hear it. The song. #iHearYaLord

A Song For My Father. (you should stop reading, click the link, start the song then finish reading…because this song is everything…and your father probably knows it…and I’m already in debt for that UCLA class…so, for free, right?) Thank you, Horace Silver. Somebody needs to play that at SF Jazz. They would get a lifetime membership from me. Meanwhile, you should join.

Anyway, back to the story. I stopped speaking, literally in the middle of speaking to prospective students and employees, and sprinted toward the music #TheMakingsOfARunner #WhenIYetDidNotKnowTheLordsPlanForMyLifeAndFeet. I stood awkwardly close to the band, eyes half closed, heart completely open, smiling, and listening for every melody, arms folded in pure delight. Praying that each one would be right where it was supposed to be. Housed in a memory from years ago, in an overcrowded auditorium, listening to an overqualified man, breathe life, musically, into me.

After the song, I realized that most important thing I wasn’t talking about. Love. What makes our heart’s beat. Things that fill us up, when the world puts us on E. I spent the next fifteen minutes explaining Jazz to everyone that would listen.

Running. Back to that memory. Daddie is a bus driver by trade. So he spent his days shuttling children to/from school, and field trips in between. If you lived in the Bay Area, one of those trips was inevitably to Great America, because well…the school year ends. So, I knew my Daddie would potentially be there, but not really. I didn’t know that I would actually see him. I mean, Great America. Ain’t nobody got time to be there with Daddie when there is literally every single child stimuli turned on HIGH, and hello! I’m a child and I’m so here for this. Lights, Rides, Shiny Things, Sugary Things, Other Kids… I’m so here for this.

But not really. Because I have a Daddie, and he’s the best one in the world. I know that other people think that, but well, delusion. I kid (not really)… Many of us are children of great men, so I know there are some awesome Daddies out there. But mine.

I saw him out of the corner of my eye. And before my mental facial recognition program could ding, I was in mid-sprint towards him. Screaming his name. Daddie! Daddie! Hi Daddie! Waving frantically like he didn’t know who I was, because well, it was possible that 6 other people in the world could have been doing exactly what I was doing because, you know, sisters…

I hugged him like we had not done this, oh say, 5 hours ago, in the morning, in our home. Like I had been taken, and he went through hell, high water, and Paris to find me. Like it was the last dance we would ever have after having lived a long life #iKnewForSureIwasLoved . Like his desperate search for me, after hours and hours, had finally ended #IGetLostYo. I held on to him. We talked about all the fun I was having, which didn’t really seem all that important anymore, and I sat there. On his lap. I didn’t have a single worry. Eventually one of my friends caught up with me, because…sprinting creates distance. I knew it was time to go. He had to go hang with his bus driver friends, and I had to go be his daughter, but somewhere else.

I hugged him real tight. I told him with authority that I loved him, and held out my hand. My Daddie kissed my forehead, authored his own loving words, and put a $5 in my empty palm. My friend standing next to me looked at this ritual of sorts, and attempted to mimic our actions. And in her tattered hand, he placed a dollar bill.

That’s Daddie for you.

And a facebook friend noted so importantly that for all of that, we have yet to memorialize fatherhood in song the ways in which we do motherhood, right? I get it. Umbilical cords, stretch marks, and well, baby’s big heads through a really small passage is worth noting. But, is that more important than our moment at Great America? Perhaps for some. Not for me.

What my Daddie was to me in that moment (and others like it) keeps me alive like my mother did those nine months bouncing around in her womb. My attachment to his leg that day was the exact same. He was transferring sustenance – sacred survival sustenance to me. And he had Daddie enough in him to give a little to my friend.

Actually, maybe I am a little glad that there aren’t many songs about Daddiehood and all that it is. For some, the feeling is foreign. For others like me, it’s too complicated to compose.

Horace did a good job though. I like the way he remembers fathers.

Happy Father’s Day to the amazing men out there, and to those gone before this day doing their work from Heaven. The men who save, the men who sustain. The men who are the source #NotTheMatrix #WelliGuessThatKindaWorksToo #YouKnowWhatIMeantTho. The men who can turn a child’s gaze from every toy on the aisle, ride in the park, dessert on the counter and every other sparkling kiddie thing – just by being. And that wanting, to be exactly like him.

Thank you for being Daddie. It keeps me being (whatever it is I am) all these miles away.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Really Bad Life Choices

Why am I even here? You know that’s a great question. I’m here because I’m the Runleader and I love my running crew. Where’s the crew? Funny you should ask. Well, Alicia Keykey is here running with one of her homeys. I’ll catch up with her another time. Rest of the crew? Well, Pearl ain’t great, so she’s not coming, MY (running)Husband didn’t sign up because he doesn’t listen to me which sometimes makes our (running)marriage work #donthatehowwelove, and Angelica. Well, she’s on her way. Let’s just hit her up and see where she’s at…

Oh. You’re injured? You’re not coming? As in, the only reason I was doing this race was because you wanted to run it. Being, that I’m out here, with all these old wrinkly white people – for nothing? You did not have fun last year! Okay, well you kinda did, but… No. Just no.

I hate my friends. But, I love medals, so I mean, there is a silver lining. And who knows, maybe I’ll run into (not literally on today) someone I know and we can have some fun. Okay, not the end of the day. Let’s do this.

(Not Really) START: Oh, this isn’t the start line? You let me into the race about 5 blocks up from the start. *devil on my shoulder*: GURL!!!! Start running now! Literally nobody will know! Get that good 12K time!

*walks briskly to the actual start line*

(Actual) START: I should have just started running. I’m never going to be great… *le sigh*

Mile 1: San Francisco is disgusting. And, so is this race. Why am I even here? Oh, yea, Angelica. #ThatPartTho

Mile 2: You know the messed up part about this race? You don’t even finish where you start. I got to make all of these miles back up trying to get home. *approaches Hayes Hill*

Mile 3: That damn hill. Why must we not only be tortured by this hill, and what seems to be the best party ever?! OMG! If they didn’t look do drunk, dirty, disheveled, and destitute, I might try to stop and get my poorty on.

Mile 4: Yea, this was a pretty turrible idea. All of these wrinkled nekkid bodies. Was this what the 60s were like? #80sBaby

Mile 5: It’s cold. I want to go home. This isn’t fun at all. Why do I do this to myself? I’m not very good to me. I should seek help. Or wine. Seek wine to help.

Mile 6: This. Is. My. Jaaaaaammm! Yo, don’t sleep on The Band Perry! Yasss Girl! #ButterscotchHair #FirstComesTheInkThenComesTheRing *just forgot everything I thought at mile 5 and starts getting my entire life on the pavement*

Mile 7: Yes little kid. I saw that too. I know what you’re thinking. He looks like/reminds you of your grandpa and you don’t know how to deal with that. You’re contemplating your relationship with PopPop now seeing this old guy sans clothing. The PTSD you’re going to experience from this will last you a lifetime.

Mile 7(0.4): Gurl, keep looking forward. Don’t even make eye contact with the people giving out the medals. You can’t clothes-check everyone.
         
Finish: Go. Home. Now. This is just bad. I’m not sure this was even worth it. Look at this basic booty butt medal?!?! For all I just had to see? For shame Zappos! For Shame!!!!!

I’m pretty pissed at this point. This medal is so basic, I’m not sure I’ll ever intentionally show it to anyone and feel any sense of achievement. It’s turrible…just turrible. I’m sure this is going to be one of the worst #MedalMondays ever because I’ll have to show it.

I’m never doing Bay to Breakers again. And by never doing it again, I already told my friend in Arizona that I’ll let her know when the super cheap one-day registration comes out so we can do this race together.

You know, being the Runleader is a thankless job sometimes.


#15ThingsIn2015 Challenge
5 new states (Louisiana – 1 down, 4 to go)
4 new friends (OldieButNewbie #RunningHubby; My Child – 2 down, 2 to go)
3 new running events (Shamrock Half; St Charles Road Race – 2 down, 1 to go)
2 back-to-back running events

1 Half Marathon PR