Run-Night-Stand. Leg 20, 1:00am(ish)

<< First Leg #WorstPaceScenario

After 7.0 miles on a bum ankle, seeing Chipotle was like an angel descending from the heavens with news of the 2^nd coming of the King. I mean, all my troubles went away. I even had a little pep in my wobble. I suppose it also helped that I had my Camo Onesie too. You could not tell me I wasn’t the dopest Ragnarian out there?! Seriously, you couldn’t. 2 vans stopped me at different times that day to tell me just how fly I was in my Camo Onesie.

So, this is the part where you hoe-bath, because that’s a thing. You get what’s called a shower pill, or in my case, Huggies baby wipes…and use these to wipe away the disappointment of a wobbling 7.0 mile performance. Bro, like seriously. You find a place to wipe it all away, then sleep. Sometimes in the parking lot on the ground. If you’re me, it’s in the SUV…because you ain’t about that camping life.

If your friends are members at 24 hour fitness, you well…sign up for a guest pass and take a real shower. Because, remember…you were never about this life. You aren’t made for changing a tire in a parking lot. What made you think you could survive this?

A medal. That’s what. A medal made you think you could survive this.

That shower tho at 24 Hour Fitness was everything! I mean, like every itty bitty thing. Thank Ya Jesus! Now I can sleep – in the back of the SUV – in peace.

And that was some of the best sleep I ever had. In the time I slept, Van 1 has just about completed all of their miles. We were at the 2^nd major exchange, awaiting Runner 6 (Leg 18) to hand off to Runner 7 (Leg 19) again. I woke up to the sounds of women talking about, well, running.

My eyes opened. I looked left and right. Nothing looked familiar. I was cautious not to make any sudden moves. The voices were unrecognizable. And I thought to myself, what the eff did you do last night? Like where the eff are you? Dude, you need to get your life together. Like seriously.The way my life is set up. This isn’t even an off occurrence.

Then I realized that I was in the middle of Ragnar Napa. And that I must live a completely random life to wake up in my camo onesie with a huggies baby wipe balled up in my hand and be that damn confused about how I got there. I felt like I was in an episode of Criminal Minds or some ish. SMH.

Leg 20: 3.40 Miles. Easy.

I’m pretty sure they were thinking this was an easy leg for a person who hadn’t rolled their ankle on 7.0 miles inclining upwards into the heavens. I mean, it wasn’t difficult, but the control one has to have to keep their ankle stable in the wee hours of the morning? I’m not built for that. I spent the first mile super nervous that I was going to fall down because it was pitch black. And just like Vin, when the lights were out, it was like nothing was there. Soon as the headlamp came on, there were random runners everywhere!

Halfway through the path, I got to a similar crossroad as I did in Leg 8. There was a sign indicating that we should cross the street. But, once across, there was no sign in sight nothing which direction we should go next. There was another runner coming up to the corner experience the same confusion. We both broke down. Not in tears or anything. Just a real ass moment of honesty.

Uh, do you know which direction to go?

Lady, I’m not the best person to ask. I got lost earlier today.

Me too. *sigh*

Eventually, smarter, less directionally challenged runners got to this crossing. They seemed to be more informed about the next steps so we followed them. I figured I’d not worry too much about kills¹, and perhaps just follow the group as to not get turned around again. Like who would believe I’d get lost twice? Everyone would. But still. #ThatsNotThePoint

One Mile To Go: Praise the Lord! I’m not sure me and this headlight are going to make it any further! I’m about to beast this last mile. Eff a knee and an ankle. I’m done with this. *kill*kill*kill* Outta my way! My seat in the back of that SUV is calling!

It was awesome though, aside from the pain, running in the middle of the night. The cool air. The gentle breeze. Empty streets. Street lights and blue directional signs marking the path like a grail quest. The path was alive! And I made my way to the Exchange without a single complication – or wrong turn.

Cause I’m Smart.

…and hella sleepy. I hope they kept my spot in the SUV warm. Cause a negro about to put that camo onesie back on and catch a few more of those zzzzz’s!

Ragnar Napa – 200(ish)miles

Leg 8: 7 miles R

Leg 20: 3.4 miles R

Leg 32: 3.4 Miles

¹kills: points you get for passing a runner during your mileage…there is no feeling like the one that you have when you have just enough energy and oxygen to pass the unsuspecting runner ahead of you. 

Third Leg #HowTheWestWasRun >>

inextricable

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inextricable [in·ex·tri·ca·ble / ĭn-ĕk′strĭ-kə-bəl] adjective: what you call the silence in your mind because you just can’t seem to find your way any which way; the response you give people when they ask what’s wrong with you because the silence of your mind looks kind of terrible on you and you need a word that accurately describes that but distracts from your appearance. #LostInTheMatrix

I

 should have called in sick. Jesus. You know how heavy baggage like that can be?  #heavy #overweight #extrabaggagefees #youflyDelta… For the love of shoe sales, save me from this! They say that doing the same thing the same way and expecting a different outcome is insanity. But what if you did it different ways and got the same thing, what’s that called?

I mean, damn man. I took my weave (read: braids) out. Showed you what my naturally chemically processed and colored hair looks like. I went out into nature, terrified of crawly things and rain. I did something new. And I got this. The same damn thing.

An Easter weekend trip out of town. To see this unintelligible guy. And, get a medal because…ain’t no man keeping me from #14in2014, and actually, he kinda likes it too #aintputaringonittho #ormedal. You’re in this silent place in your heart where you know it isn’t any thing, but it feels really right. Really easy. How can someone, a man, feel so right for me, but not for me? At least not now. And why is jet fuel so expensive?

Now. Fix your face. Get your head out of wanderland. Find the baggage claim. You’re here.

You know what I have learned about myself? I’m a pretty decent temporary somebody #Love4Rent #LoveOnLoan. Oh yea. Three to four days, you will have the time of your life. We’ll laugh, we’ll lay around, we’ll love the most random moments, and then we’ll leave. You to your life, and me to longing. Longing for all of it again, but for longer the next time. Like a lifetime. #LetsBeButterflies #KissingSunflowers #ThatNextLifetimeTho

It wasn’t a perfect weekend, but it was really amazing. We danced. We ran. We praised. We ate. And we played. Just about every request was granted – just because. It is only now, what we are in the distant place, that I wonder why. Was it my smile? The inflections in my voice? The oddness of the request? My touch to his shoulder? The excitement in my eyes? I have no idea why he never said No to me. Perhaps it was because I wouldn’t be there forever. So, why not? *shrugs*

While we waited to TapN'Run, he bumped into friends and folks he knew. We would walk around casually, speaking about things that did not matter much, and someone would catch his eye. Everything caught my eye. I get lost in life watching. It’s not just the people, it is all the things all about them. Sale signs, awesome running costumes, shoes, drunk people, storefronts, street, cars…everything. I watch life so much, that I sometimes get lost. You know, lose the group I’m with to get lost in everything around me. I didn’t recognize this as a child, and often ended many family outings. It is only at this age that I am more thoughtful about my misdirection. Without thinking, I reached out for his arm, and wrapped my hand about the crease and elbow. Almost for the dragging, we continued on until the start of the race. He never asked me why. He never seemed perturbed by it, or annoyed by it. He just let it happen. Never spoke of it.

The night before leaving, we had a little fun. Not like the fun we’d been having, but some other kind of fun. You know, grown up, break a sweat, wear you out fun, right? Yup.

Indoor. Trampoline. Park.

I was in that joint like Miss Millie dropping off Miss Sophia off for Christmas. We can stay? Alllll Night?? Oh, just for the time printed on this wristband? Okay. Well at my age, that’s gonna feel like all night. So, let’s get this thing started!

Man, I was out there auditioning for the USA Gymnastics Team. And by auditioning for the team, I was bouncing around in a circle, probably no more than five to six inches high. Having the time of my life. Conversely, my companion was performing his Gold Medal winning routine in the last Olympic Games. Jerk. I mean, he was, it was, man, that dude has skills. And I admired them from afar. In my little corner, away from the kids, feeling awesome.

At the place where some of my dreams became actualized, there was a foam pit. Hanging from the ceiling a rope, swinging to and fro. I watched the brave little darlings (read: ah’neh’mind…I shouldn’t speak ill of children anyway, those adorable little tax deductions) get a running start, grab that rope – some of them with just one hand – and dive into the foam, sinking into the splendor of the soft cubes. I watched with so much eagerness. Then I thought to myself…yea, your health coverage doesn’t cover this. How’sa’bout a hard pass hunnie? You have a flight tomorrow afternoon.

He could see the want in my heart. As did the young man working the ball pit area. I gave them both all the rational excuses, because, well, old age is nothing to play with. I built my monument with my irrational fear of breaking my decades old bones on foam cubes, because that makes total sense. I don’t have a back problem and I’d like to keep it that way. My vertical can be measured by a ten calorie ginger ale can, and I think that you need more air than that to successfully facilitate such a swing. The young man working laughed it off. But him? He was not having any part of that.

Just do it. You know you want to. I don’t think I can. I might hurt myself. Are you being serious right now? You’ll be just fine. Um, okay. Wait no. I shouldn’t. But, maybe? Are you going to come get me when I hurt myself? *laughing a little* Yea, I’ll be right here.

He took a picture of me standing on the podium with the rope in my hand, happily awaiting my demise. I was so nervous. I wanted him there, but then, I thought, Um, maybe I should just not – do I really want him to see me like this? Welp, too late. Yo’scary arse done already told him that you want him here. Might as well show him what that six inch vertical do #notmuch.

I said a quick prayer, smiled for the camera, and took off. I could not have been in the air more than five seconds…because a six inch vertical and a running start that’s the equivalent of walking fast means…you didn’t get too high up. But you got high up enough to fall butt first into a pit of crusty foam cubes. And…you’re drowning. You can’t get out of this pit. Children shorter than you (which also isn’t by much) climbed out of here like there was a staircase, but you my friend, you are sinking deep in the pit. Close to the crusty floor. Barely deep, but sinking still, right down to the pit’s foam floor.

He encouraged me on the way out of the cube pool. Like a coach, he yelled out critiques of my movements and suggested plays. After a few setbacks, I eventually made it to the edge where he stood, extending his hand. The look on his face was easy. Not extremely emotional any particular way. It wasn’t about him knowing that I could do it, or proud that I did. He was just him being in the moment with me, being my witness, the holder of my special moment.

I felt like an exhale.

Then the morning came. He got dressed for work. I packed my bags. He left for work. I organized stuff and watched Oliver Queen. He came home. I prepared my belongings. He carried my bags to the car. I attempted to make my peace with what all this wasn’t. He drove me to the airport. I rode in silence – only speaking in response to inquiry. He parked curbside. I opened my own door. He stood my bags beside me. We kissed.

It stole all the air inside of me.

#fireworks #explosions #activations #sadnesses #allofthesads #kinda

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writing to my fear, part II

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dear fear,

yes, i'm writing you again. 

remember when i was a little girl and there was a little boy that liked’d me? yea, you remember that, don’t you? i was so happy. someone wanted me, just as i was, even though neither of us knew what any of that meant. at such a young age, a (on the way to be a) man walked all that way to see. all that way. from one neighborhood to the next. he came for me. literally.

and you paralyzed me. as i would come to know, is your endgame. you knew how badly i wanted that. you knew just how much i needed it. how excited i was for it. how (not) ready i was for it, but willing to give it a try. anyway. just because.

you took my courage, my bravery, from me so long ago, i lived believing i never had any. like i could achieve great things in all the other areas of my life. but this one particular thing, i wasn’t built for. that’s what you had me believe. all these years. that i wasn’t built for this. and the life experiences i’ve accumulated, kinda support that, hunh?

crazy though, hunh? right? how the universe keeps conspiring to see me be great and whatnot. and though it’s taken way more years that i’d hoped, i’m getting pretty close to where you’ve hid those pieces of me. look at me being all victorious and whatnot.

with warmest regards,

♫almost there♪

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Worst. Pace. Scenario. Leg 8, 11:00am(ish)

Well, I did it. I said I wanted to do this awesome running thing called Ragnar, so months and months ago, I gave away my money.

…and went out about my life. Because, that’s what I do. I sign up for awesome running events. Get supper geeked. Tell er’body what I’m doing. Then, get back to my stressed out life of running, blogging, working, and happy hour’ing. Because, you only get one life…so you might as well get busy living it alive, right?

Well, once October 1^st hit, I knew that I was going to have to get my mind right. Because I signed up to ride in a large(ish) SUV with 5 other running lady friends and run 3 legs of a relay race. You know, effectively camp and run…at the same (damn) time.

Bruh.

You’d think I didn’t even know myself. Because I be signing up for ridiculous stuff. This dumb idea’ing knows no end. Like none.

Friday, 4:55am *knock*knock*on my bedroom door*knock*knock*

Hey, aren’t you supposed to be up? For your race thing?

*meeeeehhhh* OMG! OMG! It’s 5:00am! I'm late! I’m late! I’m Late #ForAVeryImportantDateWithRunning

That’s pretty much how the morning started. 95% packed and ready to do, and up about 45 minutes later than I anticipated. Yo, these late nights and early mornings are no good for runners. Especially first time Ragnarians. And, if you don’t make it on time, you won’t be a Ragnarian, honey. Get to it!

Oh yea, by the way, you left your bag for Sunday at your apartment. Good Luck with figuring that one out hun. Good Luck.

Leg 8: 7.00 miles. Very Hard.

Yo, I am so nervous right now. Like literally. Where is my Daddie at? I need a hug for real. Have I properly hydrated? Are my shoes on the right feet? Did I put deodorant on? OMG, I need a living trust! How will all of my godchildren know what wonderful stuff of mine that belongs to them? I can’t. I really can’t. Is it time for the rapture?

Get yourself together. I mean, how difficult could “very hard” be anyway? I mean, it’s a volunteer sporting event. Like they’d make it that difficult? #yes #yesTheyWould #VeryHardIsNotYourLaneBoo

So, as the Math Major came in from a fabulous performance on Leg 6 of the relay, she gave me some helpful advice on my way to my van for the drop off.

Pay attention to the directional signs girl. I saw like 4 people go the wrong way. Follow those blue signs! Be careful.

Okay, got it. Follow the blue signs. Whatever you do, do whatever it says on the blue sign. Got it.

We were stuck in traffic, so by the time we made it to the exchange for my leg, our runner was already there. I hated that so much! We were supposed to have a flawless exchange that was not scripted, but totally looked that way on the camera, right? Anyway, she gives me a slap on the wrist with the armband, and I’m off.

…in the wrong direction. Yes. I’ve messed up already. In the first 0.01 mile of this leg. I am going in the wrong direction.

That’s okay though. Turn around. Get it back. You got this.

I’m off again. I’m feeling good. It’s a little warm, but you know, that’s a thing. Keep going. Sure it’s gonna get warmer. No matter that. Just keep running.

See a “Turn Left” sign….well, turn left and, you guessed it… Just. Keep. Running.

Down the wrong way. Of course they meant turn to the left of the street and keep going straight. Not literally turn left and run and never ever eva look back.

You big dummy. You're Lost.

So, about half a mile down a residential street, I realized that there were no other runners around me, and it was absolutely impossible that I was first. So, I ran back from the way I came, made it to the sign, to see all of the other runners making their way on Leg 8.

I mean, she just told you she saw 4 people get lost. Good Lord Gurl!

But that’s neither here nor there. You’re back on the path. You see all the other runners. You’re making this happen. You got it. Up this inclining road way. Up the uneven pavement. Up in the temperature as each minute passes. Just up. Jesus.

Then down. On one knee. Yea, that was your ankle homey. It did like 360°… You should probably stop now. That’s probably a good idea.

Fuh-K. Just when I thought I had it, I lost it. Sure I was on the right path. Just the wrong footing. And now I have 4 more miles to go. Sure I could make it. I mean, I’ve been in worse conditions finishing long runs. But this is different. There is a SUV with 5 other ladies waiting on you. And you’re not going to keep up your slightly slow perfected pace. You gotta do it. You gotta tap out. Give them a call.

No cell reception. No data. No nothing. No nada.

Fuh-K.

There has never been the feeling of disappointment like this. Knowing you are hurt. Not terribly, but the way this incline is set up…you might not make it.

Well, you ain’t got a signal. Nobody can hear you now. You might as well wobble your way to the exchange point. Bruh. You’re a mess.

One Mile To Go: OMG – there are no mile markers in this race!!! I can’t believe I haven’t noticed that I have no idea where I am on this Leg! How did I not notice that? Oh, that pain. That’s how. Well, I guess that kind of makes sense. They’d need like 200(ish) of them. At least it’s just one more mile, and not telling me that I have like 6 more.

…and that’s pretty much what happened. I wobbled all the way to the exchange point. By the time I got a message to someone from my team, I was in an area with no van support…and quite frankly, it made more sense to keep going. Good Grief, there is nothing more defeating than that feeling. And I had to wobble in it for another hour.

No data. No signal. But somehow, my GPS never went out. #ThisCantBeRealLife

…*an hour later after ice and a compression sleeve* Hey, I just got your message! You tried to contact us? #ICantJesus #ButTheyCanHearMeNow

Ragnar Napa – 200(ish)miles

Leg 8: 7 miles R

Leg 20: 3.5 miles

Leg 32: 3.4 Miles

Second Leg #RunNightStand >>

unintelligible

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unintelligible [un·in·tel·li·gi·ble / ənənˈteləjəb(ə)l] adjective: when you free yourself for a specific amount of time and give your complete self the ability to feel, just for the sake of feeling, and you don’t wake up that next day feeling like that because the specific amount of time ended. #HesGone

B

reh. Can I get some more of that lost in time stuff *neck scratch*? I feel like Jason Bourne, bro. I woke up on a ship in the middle of an eastern sea and somebody pulled bullets and a microchip out of my back. Help me. Help. Me. Please.

What did I just do? I live such a strategically controlled life. Yea, sure I’m known to do something random or say the things I think #nofilter at the most (in)appropriate times. The point is, I put some gates around that playpen, homey. I do have some standards. There are a few paths I do not traverse. And I ignored every No Trespassing sign, tightened up that red cape, and went into the woods looking for trouble.

#TheStayinCaintWinFace #GetOutTheGame

I think I want him to hold me, and tell me, and be my somebody. But we’re friends, so that’s weird. Well, I don’t kiss my friends like that, so I mean technically, we’re like friends-ish. Sorta friends? Kinda friendly? Dammit. This is exactly why I don’t do things like this. I didn’t care to know, now I wanna know, but I can’t ask, because that would be weird, cause we basically established this John Legend getting Caught Up in time but we go back to our actual lives and time zones thing, and that ish feels amazing…so why am I even going through these mental gymnastics right now…You’re so late for work. #YouCaaiinntWin 

You have to know, after all you’ve been through, that this is very obviously going to end the same way everything else has – badly. You have to know that. Why would you even consider this? How can you believe in anything? How can you believe that this is anything?

But I know exactly what I want to say. And I have had these internal monologues playing on repeat homey. These bars are memorized. I got this. If you need me to bring #TeamDarkskin(ish) back Meek, I got you. Straight English – no gibberish.#RyanLeslie

….and we’re discussing this on freestyle Friday. And true to my fashion, I can’t think of a single one of those cleverly witty snapbacks #notattoos #idontlikepain I preplanned. But I stumbled across lyrics that kind of sound like the one-woman show I directed. So I sampled them. Then he composed a comeback track.

He said exactly what you thought he was going to say. Fear is a thief, true. But fear isn’t always a liar. Commitment is nothing to be trifled with. And we won’t be trifflin’ with that idea no time soon – or ever(ish?).

Yea, you might as well call in sick. You got time for that. 

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