#Medal(less) Mondays

Remember how I told yall that I was a grown adult, but also very much a child, and should always be supervised? I feel like you don’t remember because things continue to happen to me, and I continue to remind you.

Okay, so this is what happened. We were in a panoramic picture for like ever right? Everything was closed and we couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. Which sucks when it’s your birthday. I mean, you can still get gifts and see people, but like you have to sit outside, and be so many feet away, and wear masks. 

But this was the post-panoramic picture era and outside was doing things and I loved it. Going to baseball games with friends, eating all the seafood that was ever made in the history of Uncle’s kitchen, drinking all the things, sleeping in as long as I wanted, and smiling. It was an amazing weekend of smiles celebrating my birthday.

The last event, a Wine Walk, was the best way to end it. Blocked off streets, bottomless wine thanks to being a year older and well, buying a ticket to the event, steaming turkey leg, and oversized grilled oysters. Throw in some good friends you haven’t seen in a while, and it was an amazing day. Absolutely amazing. I mean, day drinking and eating, and getting home while there is still light outside? Life sometimes gives, to us millennials, abundantly. 

I arrived home feeling amazing. I navigated the tetris that was the cars in the driveway and on the street because, well, my Uncle. I found a path through the freshly manicured grass, and headed for a seat on the porch to take in the rest of the sunshine. I stopped mid-walk because I heard my Uncle’s voice. He was already on the porch, on the phone with someone. I raised my hand in a happy wave, and took a step.

In milliseconds, my body was shaped like a chalk outline of a person who fell from a few stories up. Still alive, but how would you know for certain? I just laid there wondering how my purse was launched so far from me, because it was literally the only thing in my hand. What’s worse is that Uncle literally worked my fall into his conversation - that hadn’t stopped. 

“Uncle. I don’t think I can get up.” I actually thought about not asking for help, as if nobody couldn’t clearly see me laid out in the grass in the front of the yard. Like there was a cloak of invisibility over me or something. 

“Man, let me go. This girl is still laid out on the grass.” Laughing. “I know, right!” More laughing. Obviously, whoever he’s speaking to knows me and expects this of me.

Uncle had to bring me a crutch to get up. A single crutch, with which to balance myself, through the grass, up the two steps, into the house. I completely forgot about my purse. He brought it in and put it on the kitchen counter.

yes, my ankle is hella ashy under there

How did a magical weekend end like this? How Sway? I’ve run half marathons, ragnar relays, double running event weekends, and I never ended up like this. I SPENT THE WEEKEND WALKING! I didn’t even have heels on. Sway! You haven’t answered me! 

I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up, and hobbled into some pajamas and into the bed. There was still more sun out, but I didn’t see any of it. Until the next day.

___

7:00am, the next day.

“I’m out.” Uncle on his way to work.

“Uncle!!!!!! I don’t think I can walk!” He bursts through the room door assuming I’m laid out again, but I’m in the bed looking at my swollen ankle. It’s like the size of a grapefruit by this point.

“You would hurt yourself when I have to go to work.” Yes, yes I would. I am known for selecting the most inconvenient times to hurt my own self. Walking is my fault now, I guess. He goes to the kitchen and gets an ice pack. I’m instructed to call him if the swelling doesn’t go down. I situate myself in the bed with the ice pack and try to sleep.

But eventually I have to pee. And like I realized at 7:00am, I can’t walk. And I can’t reach that 1 crutch because, where did I put it? Here’s where things get interesting. I’m clearly NOT going to pee in the bed, BUT IF I did pee in this bed, who would know? I literally do the laundry. I got hella bath and body work candles. And yes, I tell yall all my business like my Uncle does, but this - this - I can absolutely keep this to myself.

So I roll over the side of the bed and fall to the floor. Hard. I didn’t realize how tall the bed is and how not tall I am. The math didn’t math and I should feel some shame, but the only thing I feel is the subwoofer attached to my ankle. I shimmy to the bathroom, on my knees and with might unknown get myself propped up on the toilet. Relief. Now, to get back to my room and get my phone because Uncle gotta leave work and fix this.

My phone. In my purse. In the kitchen. On that high ass counter. I haven’t even pulled my pajama pants up. I am in tears yall. Tears. Mostly because I know what’s next. That shimmy I did to get from the bedroom to the bathroom was short. That forward >> left >> long hallway >> right >> through the living room >> left, that I needed to make happen to get to the kitchen, from the bathroom? I literally laid on my stomach, on the floor, and dragged my ridiculous body through the distance of the house, swiffering the floor with my transgressions. When I got to the kitchen counter, I used a barstool to get from horizontal to vertical, and realized I was at the wrong counter.

me in my "good" sweater

I don’t even know how my Auntie from up the street got to the house, to me, and us to Urgent Care. Uncle leaving it unlocked because I'm me makes the most sense though. Not sure, but it was definitely wide open when she got there. I do remember at one point in our exchange saying to her with an unearned amount of audacity that I would be okay - that I didn’t need any help. She just looked at me, as she should have, because WHAT? Girl, if you don’t put your people-of-WalMart outfit on, get your pocketbook, and hobble your butt into this car?

The homey (C.H.) said it best, Lawd. We’re getting a handler for you. You can’t be trusted with yourself.

So the Mondays have been without medals because sometimes you hurt your ankle so bad it takes 6 months to get back into shoes - not running shoes, but two shoes that match. There’s more to the medal-free mondays, but I thought we should get the jokes out first. 

I owed you that.

On A Tuesday... #ItsYaBirthday!

When It’s Ya Birthday…

…you do all the things you want to do, right? Because that’s how birthdays work, right? You choose.

And you’d be totally right if you were talking about anyone else. But we’re talking about me. And because you know me, you know that I did not wake up on my birthday ready to embark on all of the things I wanted to do because it was my day.

But, the first voices I heard were my beautiful goddaughters in Southern California. That best friend of mine knows how to make my day for sure. I wasn’t ready to go out into the world the moment before the phone rang. The moment after we said our goodbyes, I was ready to do the impossible!

Which I did. I got out of the bed and got into the shower. Because it felt impossible to do, until I got showered with all that love and remembrance.

You know what I did next? Yes. I went to work. See, the work that I do, it’s kind of a thing. And it tends to get busy every year, like clockwork, on the day I’m supposed to do all of the things I want to do. So much so, I honestly, at times, forget that my birthday is here.

Let’s go back in time to my days in Westwood. My little sister from the same mommie and mister sent me sunflowers. My favoritest flowers in the whole wide world. I was sooooo surprised. So much so, I went around and showed everyone what my little sister did for me for no reason at all! I mean, she sent me something…just…because…?! Inconceivable! Yea, until she called me to wish me a happy birthday. It was around 2:30pm PST. That’s when I went around and told everyone that actually I got these because it was my birthday. Only, I was the only one that didn’t know.

They sent me home.

We’re back to 2015. I’m doing the actual adult thing these days, so nobody sends you home when there is work to be done. Especially when the residents (read: your children that you didn’t birth)  are back. Naw pimp, we’ll see you bright and early. #IncidentReportsBreh #TheyBack

A hunger pain caught me. I grabbed two of my colleagues and we went to House of Bagels. Because, bacon. As we ate and chatted about the world, we heard a loud thud. Not a gunshot thud, but when you’ve grown up where I’ve grown up, you assume the worst.

Which was exactly what was happening. A man, a stranger, a person had fallen down. He hit his head on the bumper of a car. He began to violently seize…stopping mid walk, body frozen, falling down, hitting his head on the bumper of a car…and violently shaking – foaming at the mouth furiously.

When you do the work that we do, you don’t panic. You don’t have time to panic. You call for Emergency Medical Services. You observe what’s going on so you can report it. You ensure the safety of the individual in need and those attempting to help. You remain as calm as you can. You breathe. The same way you where inhaling and exhaling that bacon. Because someone needs you more than you needed that last bite of your food. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Literally, in that moment, nothing else matters.

Once help has arrived and you have ensured everything will be taken care of, you hit the play button. It’s time for life to resume again. Well, scratch that. Perhaps you didn’t hit the play button at all. Maybe you’re doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing. You just got to the end of one song and the next track begins to play. Different genres of music, sure. Same playlist tho.

Later in the afternoon as one of my colleagues and I talked of this being my special day, he shared with friends (who brought me the special-est gift!) that we saved a man’s life. I looked at him like, we did wheeettt?? o_0 I hadn’t thought about that moment the entire day, until he brought it up. It had not crossed my mind. Not once. Hell, I spent half (read: ALL DAMN DAY) the afternoon trying to figure out how I could leave work early! #DidntWorkTho #ItWas4pmWhenWeHadThisConvo #StillinTheOffice When he used the words saved a man’s life my first thought was, I hadn’t done that at all. We got a man help. I made sure that my colleagues were being safe during the whole incident, minding where they were standing, making sure we weren’t in danger, calming the small crowd around us, giving the man space. I was doing what I was supposed to do, right?

My birthday evening I had dinner with the vessel that created my life. I got to see her smile. I got the honor and privilege of treating the woman who laid in pain for hours (not as many hours as the rest of yall, cause I was considerate) to her favorite meal. I hugged her. I nestled my head into her stomach, asking if I could return there…cause bills Mommie. They make you pay for things out here!!! I wanna go back! #TheDarkConOfAdulthood #SendMeBackJesus #NineMonthVacation

I spent the entire day not thinking about what I wanted to do on my day. I didn’t do a single thing that I wanted to do on my birthday, as a matter of fact #CanIJustTakeANapJesus #ThatsAlliWantGod???. Absolutely no action (well maybe that morning shower and teeth brushing) was for me, or in honor of my special day. But, I did all the things I was supposed to do. And goodness Father God, there was so much happy in that. I am so blessed. I really am. 

...and sweet potato cookies. Because somewhere in HIS word He promised grace, and mercies, and blessings that there would not be room enough to receive. And when I opened that box Father God, I saw the glory! Somebody better get up and shout unto God! Surely goodness and mercies will be mailed to me! All the days of my life Lord! You can't tell me MY GOD ain't good! I dare you to try Him on today! 
#TheDoorsToTheChuchAreOpen #ButTheFlapsToThisBoxAre Closed #TasteAndSee #HeIsReal #RealinMySoul #AndMyStomach #ThemCookiesAlmostGone #EatenToTheLastCrumb #CauseMyGodIsAGodOfCompletion #ItIs(almost)Finished #WontHeDoIt? #OhYesHeWill

…and my heart of so full of gratitude to all of you that took time out to remember me in whatever way you did. I genuinely appreciate your gestures of celebration and acknowledgement. Being remembered, acknowledged, being recognized – in whatever way you do that for a person is a lifesaving act. Thank you sincerely for saving my life on the day I was given life. I hope you had a wonderful day. I owe you thank you’s and so much more!

January 20, 2015 #PartII

Memory. I remember that first half marathon experience so many ways. All of the emotion of running my first half marathon ever. Being in one of the lowest points of my (love) life and not really celebrating all I accomplished, because I couldn’t see myself. But the beginning was what I remember most about it.

From ending…to inception…

for. the. win! yasssssssss!

I tend to make lots of phone calls while I’m in the Dollar Tree. I mean this place is perfect for a student affairs professional. You need a basket? Bubbles? Gift Bag? Party Favors? It’s a no brainer – they’re all $1.00. Plus, I don’t do regular foil anymore, I prefer my Reyonlds Wrap pre-cut sheets – so I go to Dollar Tree. Walking around “high on ResLife” and “high on running” I called my best friend. That’s also a no brainer. If there is a random thought running through my head, he’ll indulge me. But this wasn’t exactly a random thought – this was a competition. See, before Charlie Sheen was #WINNING, we were already all over that. We aren’t the super competitive types that won’t speak to each other; we’re the perfectionist competitive types that are really concerned with doing our very best. He doesn’t care that I’m not a professional athlete – if we’re doing a 40-yard dash, I better be in it to win it… I don’t care that he’s never taken an Organic Chemistry class, he better be all over those protons, neutrons and electrons.

The Challenge. Strip. The Strip. The Strip – At Night. 13.1 most awesomely fantastical miles down the Las Vegas Strip. It’s on. It took me maybe 30 seconds to convince him to do this with me. The deal was done. The conversation was over. My bougie foil was paid for.

     

We spoke irregularly about the race in between infrequent text messages. I was heading to Las Vegas soon, so we’d really get these details together when I got there, kiss my 2 god-daughters, and finally – FINALLY meet his significant other. I was excited to meet the girls and nervous to meet her. Not for anything that she’s done (or not done), but because it’s me. The Female. The Female Best Friend. What in the world has he told her about me? Blamed on me to get out of something? (because we’ve all done this to our very best friends at one point – don’t you dare lie) What he hasn’t told her about me? You just don’t know…and a woman, walking into another woman’s space can be a recipe for disaster.

     

I’m back in Vegas baby!!! Not on the strip just yet… Hanging out on the outskirts meeting his just about whole family. They were gorgeous. Though I was so uncomfortable for the most part, I was so happy to see my friend. The man who knows me better than any other man alive. There is this overwhelming sense of peace and calm that envelops me when I am with him. I’m less worried, less anxious, less everything that I don’t need to be.

     

We sat on that couch, my family, chatting about random things. Which of course lead the discussion of how I was going to leave him in my tracks when I crossed the finish-line. The conversation was as unassembled like a 1000 piece puzzle. We talked about what I was going to wear, how long the race was, the training plan for it, the dance I was going to do at the finish line, and how it would be hella cool to run, stop by a casino, and get a drink every few miles. I could not have been happier. To do a half marathon, in Las Vegas, in the evening, with my best friend in the whole wide world running with me (part of the way…yea, we definitely were not going to be able to keep the same pace, he’s a professional athlete and my chest is the size of a small child).

     

Then she spoke. As innocently has his daughter speaks to him. Well, maybe not exclusively innocence, like 80% innocence, 20% message. That damn 20%. So it seems (things he conveniently didn’t tell me) that his significant other has always wanted to do a marathon and/or running type event with him. She didn’t seem to have as much luck with getting him on board with the idea as I had. Like I was then going to say anything about the 30 seconds it took me to get a verbal agreement from him. Nope, just like a man, unsure of how he got to this point in the relationship where he obviously did and/or said something wrong, I shut up.  

The conversation ended amicably… After all, to her, I was still more or less company, and she wasn’t going to show her spots about this – at least not yet or to me. It wasn’t my fault, or was it? I gave him the “how dare you put in the middle of that” side eye. And then, just like Chrisette, I had my epiphany. It was clear – crystal clear to me. And before I could speak the truth in my storm, I had to let my best friend have it for his.

     

There is no problem with a man and a woman being best friends. I realize this thought strikes many people as odd, if so, this means, this isn’t for them. You can’t do it. If you think it’s odd, then you have doubt, and you can’t enter into a relationship like this doubting. I’m not going to say something silly like, “to me, he is just a guy” or anything like that. My best friend is super fine – if I met a man like him on the streets that wasn’t him, that fool could get it. He’s a great guy, he has a good heart, he’s smart, he makes me laugh, and he really gets me. These are all great qualities for a mate. But they are also perfect qualities for a friend. And that is what he is to me. It wasn’t meant for us to be together – and while I don’t say that to test God, I just say that to say, today, we aren’t that.

     

But herein lies the rub. I can get him to do just about anything with me. And much like my father’s love, I dare not abuse that. We like to compete – so if one of us lays down a challenge, the other is accepting, bottom line. It’s more than our pride though. We’ve seen each other through some really amazing times, and we’ve had to stand beside each other all by ourselves. We know things about each other we’ve only told each other, things we have entrusted to each other that we’ve never spoken aloud. We have a very special connection. Something many people may not ever really understand. And we really don’t care. We are who we are.

     

It was crystal clear! She doesn’t hate me. She can’t hate me; she doesn’t know me. And the reality is, it’s a rare person that actually “hates” me. Who doesn’t love a Leo? But what she will hate, or dislike, or what will always give her pause, is that there is a woman (no matter the relationship) that can convince her man to do something, to go somewhere, to get something, to say something…there is this woman who is connected to her man in a way that she will never be – because he has a female for a best friend.

Memory. He didn’t run that race with me officially that day. But I would not have finished without out him convincing me to start. And every time I thought about quitting, I thought about him. It was literally the only thing that kept me going. Not the music, the water, the gu, or the thought of a hot shower. It was him. I’d like to think that I ran that first half marathon for myself. It sure started out that way – as something for me. But it was all for him. It was a gift to him. A sign that I was on my way to finding myself again.

And he loved it.

I went back to Vegas in 2013 and did it for myself.

And he loved that even more.

January 20, 2015

Memory. For many years, my best friend in the whole wide world never remembered my birthday. He was always doing something football related. The day would come. Someone would eventually remind me that it was my birthday. I would spend the rest of the day (not) celebrating. And the day would end. Like clockwork, two days later he’d call and wish me a happy birthday as if I in fact, was born on the 20^th of my birth month. Funny. He was born on this day, the 20^th, the first month of the year.

Now that we’re older and grown(er), he calls on my birthday. I hear my beautiful goddaughters with their Happy Birthday GodMother! shouts. Then he gets on the phone and we talk. He usually has some inappropriate birthday wish for me. I chuckle uncontrollably. Then we end the conversation. Without saying it, we thank the Lord for another year we’ve been blessed with, and being able to be the same old us.

Memory. You know, I started this blogging ish because of something I wrote. It wasn’t on purpose at all. I did not get that medal in Las Vegas after I finished my first half marathon. So, I wrote the Competitor Group a letter. I shared it with Alicia maKeykey. She could not believe it. I added it to that thing I called a book. Then she made me read it aloud to people like Carrie Bradshaw. And, it became my very first blog post on these here internets.

But when you read about it, or see it mentioned in my hashtags, it just seems like all the other races. The good, the bad breathing while running, the AWESOME playlist, the crazy runners around me, the finish…everything except the medal. And mostly, that’s true. But this race was unlike any other race for a couple of reasons:

It was my very first half marathon.

My best friend was with me the whole time.

Memory. I remember this race experience so many different ways. This race experience will always be that way, because he was part of it. From ending…

The first man I ever said “I love you” to was my father. He gave me life, and I repaid him with love. And because we love each other, we never take advantage of everything it means. We speak our truths and our “I love you’s.”

The second man I ever said “I love you” to was my best friend. It was not planned. I wasn’t exactly the emotional type back then, so it surprised me when I said it. I was probably more shocked that after I said it, I didn’t even think about taking it back. Hold up... I meant it? Well damn, I sure did. I didn’t feel uneasy, or awkward. I felt free. Like I finally repaid that $10 I didn’t want to borrow, or returned that book I used last quarter. He looked up at me and told me he loved me too. We exchanged love like Monday Night Football highlights. We got each other up to speed on the catches and missed tackles, then went on to the next discussion topic.

We never talk about that day. We don’t ever need too. We know what we are to each other, and that is enough. I was there to make sure he believed in love, so until he finds love, he has me. And he was there to share my life with – and until I find someone to share it with, he’ll be the one at the finish line in all my competitions. And he was.

In 2011 I ran (or something like it) a half marathon in Las Vegas. On the strip. At night. Strip At Night. I was too busy drowning in my sorrows to see how proud of me he was. To see me being all the things he knew me to be, when all I could see was what I wasn’t. Those damn “nots” – they are so binding. That’s the thing about him. How he sees me. I’m not the sum of my “nots”…as I tend to see myself. If you were to ask me what I was, I’d tell you all that I wasn’t. Ask him though… To him I’m not a sum of my nots… He doesn’t see what I lack, for all that I am. I’m intelligent. A great cook. An artist. A prolific writer. A loving person. I’m going to be a great mother, he says. I’m an awesome sister. I make my parents proud. Oh, I’m brave, confident, fearless.

He didn’t deserve what he took for me, on my behalf that day, and I don’t deserve him still. He walked with me step by step as my corral migrated to the front smiling the entire time, he celebrated my finish before I could even see my start, he watched me jump the road blocks as my corral left me while I was waiting for the bathroom, and most importantly he photographed me at the completion of 13.1 medal-less miles so I would never forget how incredibly defeated and depleted I looked at the end. I stood – barely – in the lobby of the MGM Grand and thought about my life and the decisions I made which led me to that place that particular day. I would have cried, but losing any more liquid in the moment would have literally ended me. And when I couldn’t take another step, he made footprints for the both of us.

Crossing the finish line I still didn’t see it. How many people do I actually know, run in distance races, let alone half marathons? Oh man, he was sick (and tired) of what I became, but he never showed his frustration, not once. He made me sit, in the car, the passenger seat, at McCarran Airport and hear about this really wonderful person he knew. She was intelligent, one of the smartest people he knew, kind, pretty, and dammit, one hell of a woman. He said she would find what she was looking for, but she had to start being person she was supposed to be. I could tell he wanted to be frustrated; I think becoming a father helped teach him how not to be. Tab played professional football, and he had not competed the way I did. I did something athletic that he would probably never do, and that was amazing to him. That made him proud, and he couldn’t understand how I could make it so small, so tiny, so forgettable.

Memory. I always remember his birthday. It’s today. He’s a year older, wiser, braver, and funnier. I’m a year luckier.

There are so many wishes that I have for my best friend on his birthday. But I dare not speak them. I do, however, pray that I am everything I need to be for him when he walks into them all. He's going to have everything I ever did hope for him...and then some.

Happy Birthday.

January 20, 2014

This is where we began. #andmiddle #andneverend

Last Wednesday night, I was on a plane headed to Amazing, by way of Atlanta #thuglifeairport. I met a man on said plane with whom I had the most interesting conversation that I am going to post about this week. Anyway, the subject of my best friend came up. My best friend who happens to be a man. He, much like many others have asked if we’ve ever attempted to be more than friends. I mean, Brown Sugar, right? The answer, despite that awesome soundtrack, remains No.

But people seem to be dumbfounded by the why. I want a lover with the desperation of single chicks in the clubs with spandex life suits on. My secret thirst for my somebody’s son is at DEFCON 1 and on Level: Serengeti. I swear I see weapons of mass destruction and mirages daily. I’m not the bitter …always a bridesmaid, never a bride…throwin’ ‘bows for the bouquet chick yet…but it is real (single) in these streets. But patience is virtuous (says Jesus) and life is a waiting game (says Corinne). So, if you must wait, and not eat snickers, shouldn’t you still get something? I mean, even in the Olympics there are other medals, right?

Now wait. My best friend is no consolation prize. To know him is to have entertained something angelic. But as much as I need a lover to love and laugh with me for a lifetime, I need a best friend to do that same thing a different way. And nobody should have to be in desperate need of both. I can't take all these selfies by myself!!!!!

I’m not sure you will understand this. But I will try to tell you anyway.

Can you understand how a man and a woman can love each other perfectly, being imperfect beings? How two people can respect each other in their separate lives, but have a oneness, something so especially innocent together? Support each other's dreams, protect them like the gates of Asgard. Daily, without words, remind each other who they are – because they are the best reflections of each other when they forget. Speak truths to each other, and hear them, listen to them, and pack them away until they are needed again. To know a thing about the other, without ever sharing it…just completing the thought one had about said thing. To laugh. Hysterically. Often. Even when the conversation topic is terrible. It’s never #TooSoon. Like NEVER Too Soon! To have someone that doesn’t count each tear with numbers, but with hugs. And that be all there is.

Can you understand that? I hope so. Because today is my best friend’s birthday.

"Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty – they merely move it from their faces into their hearts." #AudreyHepburn

Shots Fired!!!! lol *bang*bang*