I'm Only Half Crazy #FinishItJesus #26.2Left #1%Club

As I look at all the amazing finisher photos on this #MedalMonday, I am really inspired by all of the Chitown Runners! They did their thing! Congratulations Runners!! #IwishIOwnedChiTown #IWantAMedalToo #butIWannaEarnIt #CantIJustBeGreatLikeThemJesus

I’m not like them at all. The most I can do in this moment is be proud of them, like I am my Uglee (it's a long story, she earned that name)! Yall don’t know, but the only reason I’ve made it this far running is her anticipating all of my needs as a fledging half-marathoner. She makes sure I get all the encouragement I need before race day, after race day, and in the right shoes. And she's already done this! She is a marathoner. And she treats my 10K medals like superbowl rings! You'd think I did something more amazing, but for her, it is. I owe many a weary mile to her. It’s like she’s clairvoyant or something. She knows I’m going to finish before I even start. Crazy, right?

So, I guess I’m kinda like them. Marathoners. Let my friends tell it, I have run a marathon. See, I ran a half marathon in June, then I ran one this October. So basically…….math. But since I’m kinda like them, I know there is a HUGE difference between running a half marathon, and sacrificing your life for that other 13.1. I mean, you've got to prove yourself on the pavement to be a 1%'er. I wanna get in the club. I wanna hang out with Uglee in there!!!

I go back and forth between committing to such an endeavor. I mean, I’ve done enough half-marathons to the point of suggesting we do one, is like asking if I would like to go to Happy Hour… I’m like Tank, when?? But a full marathon… You mean, 26.2 consecutive miles? On the same day? I mean, do I get the whole 24 hours to get them in? Or nah?

I’m scared, yo. S C A R E D.

But the homey Alicia Keykey signed up for her first marathon (for 2015)…which kind of makes this challenge more real, because we’re homeys. We ride together…to Old Navy Sales…and will die one day together, because we eat inordinate amounts of bacon, with bottomless mimosas, cause you gotta drink your fruit (with champagne)! So I mean, I gotta be there. I flew from Virginia to California just to run with her. It’s serious. The running blood goes deep.

But I’m not registered yet. I was close to clicking “submit”…then I read this:

As I sit resting up to handle this ‪#‎ChicagoMarathon in the morning, I wanted to share the hilarity of the chronicles of my last marathon in Anchorage Alaska. Enjoy.

A truly... Truly unique experience. First Alaska is a stunningly beautiful state from the little I've seen thus far so if you can swing it, put it on your bucket lists of places to visit. Now... About that run... Chronicles:

1.) 8am start and the rain is torrential. At least when I start slowly peeing myself around mile 9... No one will notice.

2.) Mile 5'ish. There's a dude running this marathon in sandals... Personal challenge set... He will not beat me.

3.) Mile 8'ish. A kid maybe about 14 wizzes by me. Personal challenge set... If I see him again I will throw a rock at him.

4.) Around the half marathon point... The race has become a narrow trail run and we are running in the freakin woods through mud and rain. I don't remember this being on the brochure. Alaska is stupid.

5.) Mile 19'ish... Runners are stopped on the trail. There is a freaking moose blocking the trail.. A FREAKING MOOSE!!!

6.) Mile 19'ish. The moose isn't moving. Yah... Get out the way!... Shoo moose shoo! One guy is not happy. The moose is unamused... Not budging.

7.) Moose still chillin... Its been at least 10 minutes. The kid will not be the one to tempt the moose. Same guy suggest throwing a rock. I set up to run in the opposite direction if he does.

8.) I'm hurting right now anyway... Maybe if I lay on the trail the moose will trample me and put me out of my misery... The runners stopped are now about 30 deep.

9.) Moose finally saunters off the trail to the right... Runners slooooowly walk past him.

10.) Mile 21 - 22. Sandals guy passes me... Oh hell no...! I speed up.

11.) 1/2 mile later... Sandal guy passes me again... Eff him and his sandals... I got nothing... My legs are weary.

12.) Mile 24... Legs feel like they are detached from hips. Alaska is stupid... This is stupid.

13.) Mile 26.2... Finished... That was great... Alaska is awesome... I'll take 88 orange slices, 12 cookies, a gallon of Powerade, and that whole loaf of cinnamon raisin bread please.

14.) Chicago 2014... You're next.

Marshall “Squill” Miles

Dude was prepared to go toe-to-toe with a moose… IN ALASKA! I mean, how can I do a marathon?? I’m afraid of my Uncle’s dog and you mean to tell me we gotta fight the wilderness creatures for medals?!?! Fix it Jesus!! Hold my mule and the moose! Okay, he wasn’t prepared to take on the moose, but that dude in the sandals liked to go dealt with by my man. And then, AND THEN, he insults my injury by showing up and showing out in ChiTown! This guy… He’s funny… I like him…

I saw the New York City Marathon in action, on accident. The homeys and I were enjoying brunch in one of the NY boroughs when we noticed that the streets were blocked off, and people were running…and other people were cheering…and everyone seemed to be okay with this. In my experience, people running and police blockades aren’t exactly happy events. But when it’s the NYC Marathon, every single person is cheering every other person on. It’s hard to be mad when you’re there to witness something like that.

That next Monday, we saw people walking around Manhattan with medals around their necks. I knew that I would get my chance one day. Then I googled NYC Marathon, and saw the race map and mileage. And I thought, maybe someone will let me take a picture with their medal. Yea, that. Do THAT.

That day has stayed with me since. I want to get to that place where I schlep my God given life, and the thing that contains it, 26.2 miles. I should believe in my legend more than I do. I mean, 10 years ago, I couldn’t convert a 5K to miles, let alone sweat. If you asked me what it was, I probably would have said, money. Yet, in 2011, I stood at the starting line of my first half marathon, with the bestest friend a black girl runnin’ could ever have. He smiled at me, and told me that my ride home was waiting at the finish. And leaving Las Vegas without a medal that year did not stop me from going back again.

I have completed 13 races of my #14in2014 this year, and the thought of a full marathon, though exciting, scares me. The moose does too. I’m not sure what it is (not the moose…got that...afraid of that) keeping me from my eternal running glory…but I pray I live long enough to figure it out.

Thank you, Marshall for letting me share the hilarity that was your Alaska Running experience! And...congratulations for taking down the city of Chicago at the Marathon this very weekend! 

Did you think his #Chronicles were funny/awesome/inspirational/[insert your word here] too?! Hit him up! m.kendrick.miles@gmail.com

Pure Genius, #Race13Medal12 #ChallengeMedal1

I’m trying to get my Cali Combo Medal RnRSJ is soooo happening… That was me 22 weeks ago (says Instagram) when I was in #100DaysOfHappy mode. I’m certain Pharrell was not thinking about this when he was happy.

The night before a race is spent eating all the pasta in a 10 mile radius and resting. Because, miles and miles to go before I medal, right? Typically. But not this day. I ran a 5k. Then I went to a wedding. And it was homecoming at my place of employment. And because tailgating and tickets to the game are free, at 8:00pm the night before my race, I’m in the stands of Spartan Stadium with JRock.

See? Genius.

I know what you’re thinking, you went home right after that right? So you could get some rest, right? Wrong.

Good Idea: Staying on campus the night before so you can walk to downtown where the race begins and ends. This means you can sleep longer and not have to worry about parking.

Bad Idea: Realizing you left your iPod with your running playlist in your car parked at your Uncle’s place. He lives 20 or so minutes away. And you can’t get there – because your car is there. And you’re 20 or so miles away from it.

So you get out of the bed, wait for your Uncle – who will probably never do anything for you, like not even open a can of soda for you, because he hates everything you represent – to bring you to your iPod. And car. Because he’s not taking you back to campus. He doesn’t like you. At all.

Good Idea: Getting comfy in the bed to recoup the sleep and rest you did not get because you did the worst job planning your day and you don’t know how to deal with peer pressure very well.

Bad Idea: Deciding to stay on campus during Homecoming because students are so well behaved throughout the year, especially during Homecoming. Because nobody will pull the fire alarm in the building you’re staying in, which also activates the alarm in the parking garage making a normal fire alarm activation a 2+ hour ordeal, beginning at 3:00am.

Like I said, I am literally the smartest person you know. And yes, I signed up for 2 races. On the same weekend. #ThisChallengeIsSilly

Race Day: *fire alarm hangover* I could just stay in this bed all day.

Start Line: I don’t think I can do this. Like seriously. Unlike any other start line, in any other city, for any other race… I am literally in fear that I won’t make it. But I want that medal tho. #ChallengeBackOn

Mile 1: I need to use the bathroom. Dammit.

Mile 2: Awwww, lookie at one of my old student staff members volunteering at the race! That’s so cool. Now pass that water bruh, it’s hot out here. *sees bathroom* *Thank the Lord*

Mile 3: I wonder if JRock still out here? I might need somebody to come get me. #iHurt #ThatsNotAnApp #ThatsMeInPain

Mile 4: *wondering why I seem to be hurting this early in the race* Ooooh Yea. I ran a 5K yesterday. Then went to a wedding. And wore heels. Then a tailgate. And a football game. And a fire alarm. Oh, okay. Makes sense.

Mile 5: It’s 91 thousand damn degrees out here tho. #WeShouldaDelegatedTheTemperatureToMoses

Mile 6: I could almost be done right now. Like my friend I think I see passing me. You know, the smart one that’s doing to 10K.

Mile 7–9: Don’t ask.

Mile 10: Why do I make life so difficult for myself?

Mile 11: You couldn’t pay me to walk down this street. Ever. Wait… I’m actually paying to run down this street. #FacePalm

Mile 12: This isn’t Rock N Roll San Jose. This is Rock N Roll Hades. Who in the hell *literally* turned the heater on in the Bay Area?! It’s October. Ain’t nobody got time to sweat 2 week old braids out!

Mile 13: Hump. This looks familiar. *shrugs*

Mile 13(0.1): *realizes this was the same corner I was turning just a day ago* Yea, I’m not doing another remix challenge again. This is stupid and silly, and the people who organize events and challenges like these should have to appear before Congress. This may not be too hard for God, but this is extremely difficult for me.

Finish Line: *queues up choir* I just want to Thank…You…Lord…

The day prior, I thought to myself, I will live to regret this. And I did. Only it did not even take a full 24 hours. I was in pain most of the race. Between that and the sauna known as San Jose, I was miserable for the last half of the running. I feel like, if the race starts before the sun comes up, then it should stay where it is until I cross the finish line. #mannersSJ #manners

Though so many things connected to this experience pounding the pavement sucked (by my own design and piss poor planning/preparation), there were a few bright moments. One in particular that made me smile.

As I was stretching, convincing myself that this was totally a great idea and I was going to have the most amazing time ever, a woman got my attention. She asked if I was part of the Black Girls Run group. I responded No because I realized right before I answered that question, that I never actually “signed” up for it. A friend added me to the Facebook group, but aside from that, I did not complete my membership application or apply for my card. Hell, I don’t even have a Black Girls Run tee yet.

But I’m in the group. I’m connected to the community of black women who buy things at running stores. And she is too. She also did her first marathon in San Diego. You know, that place where I had an #EpicSummerRun and learned a lesson in chivalry? Yup, she was there. And, she’s going to be in Los Angeles when I do the ridiculous again and run in back to back events. Only this time, I was brilliant enough to put a flight and 340 miles in between them. Oh, and she is planning to rock the #StripAtNight too!

We took a picture and went to our separate corrals… #SheIsWayFasterThanMeTho #GoGirl #RunBlackGirlRun. And I thought, you were kinda creepy asking her all those questions…you really get real weird about this running stuff 'Teezy…you need to chill out. And after that I realized that she will probably run away from me in Los Angeles.

Eventually, I saw the novelty of it all. We all do this for our own reasons. We register ourselves. Commit to our training with varying levels of effort. Safety pin our bibs. Find our corrals. Start. And finish. And many of us never meet the thousands of people running past alongside us. But we are all there. All connected. All together. And we all get it. Unlike all the other people watching us run, cheering us on, or wondering why we would ruin a perfectly good weekend with a 20-mile training run, we understand it. It makes perfect sense.

Kind of like working in student development. It looks crazy from the outside.

From the inside, we know exactly what kind of crazy it is. And we show up again the next day. That’s the genius in all this. #LevelsAndLevelsAndLacesToThisBro #LevelsAndLaces

This Race: Rock N Roll San Jose, Half Marathon, San Jose CA
Medaled Miles to date: 67.47 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 80.57 miles 

2 Medals To Go ǁ 86% Complete

(Challenge Medal 1, 13 Medals ǁ 93% Complete)

This Is The Remix, #Race12Medal11

I’m only doing this race because it’s a 5K… We will just call those famous last words. Because that really was the only reason I signed up for the race.

That’s also a lie. Um, there was a challenge medal involved and I decided that I wanted that challenge medal more than anything, even though, I had not seen said challenge medal, and this was the first year of such an event.

I go crazy for the bling. Half crazy. Full insane.

This was an interesting experience at the race expo. If you’ve ever done a Rock n Roll series event, then no matter the city, the experience is typically the same. There are large bulletin boards with names and bib numbers. Stations for you to complete running waivers. A specific entrance into (and out of) the expo. Race tee and swag bag pick up #tearsoffshirttabfromracebib. And then the Expo! Free stuff. Merchandise for purchase. Vendors. Giveaways. This super cute guy at the Alaska Airlines booth #ishouldhavesaidsomething! You know. Same ol’ same ol’…

But not really. Because when I went to the bulletin board to find out my bib number, I noticed that my name was there twice. Same name, 2 bib numbers. Well isn’t that odd? #ItWasnt #ISignedUpFor2Events #ActingHellaBrandNew. I expected everything to be the same about this experience that was nothing like anything I had done before. On a Saturday, I was running at 5K. Then I was going to go home, go to sleep, wake up, and return. To run a Half Marathon. And when you do that, you can’t write in the different bib numbers on the same form. You have to complete 2 separate forms, wait in 2 different lines, show your ID to 2 individuals, and get a race tee and swag bags from both stations.

Because you’re signed up for 2 races. #ChallengeOn

Race Day: This was a dumb idea. I pick the day I have THE MOST going on to run. I’m literally like the smartest person I know… Hold Up?! Is this parking space literally around the corner from the Start Line? #WontHeDoIt #PraiseDance #QuickNapSinceIGotAllThisFreeTime

Start Line: It’s 3.1 miles. You need to make this happen as quickly as possible. You have a completely full day today. Your cousin is getting married.

Mile 1: What time is it?

Mile 2: I should consider moving faster.

Mile 3: This was stupid. And it’s hot out here? It can’t be October.

Mile 3(0.1): *turning the corner* Someone definitely moved the Finish Line. How can I not be finished yet Lord?

Finish Line: Oh, this medal is nice?! All this for a 5K? Yasssss! I wonder if this will match my dress. For. The. Wedding. OMG. Why. Am. I. Still. Here? *eats banana while pondering that*

And when I got my life and realized that I had to get back to my car, shower, get dressed, and make it to my Uncle’s to head to my Cousin’s wedding, I moved with a purpose. I actually ran…just a little. If you know my Uncle then you know that while he is super sweet and will move mountains for his nieces, when he says be somewhere, you be there, on time.

I stuffed my achievements and my boobies into the cutest dress so I could spend the afternoon in the sauna otherwise known at San Ramon. It was so hot out there. I watched my cousin vow to his love, and his love return the vows in kind. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Then I stood up. And realized that I ran super hard on the San Jose city streets just hours ago, did not a single stretch, unless you count that sprint up and down the stairs, and I have been walking around in 5 inch steve madden peep toes.

Everything about my feet hurts. And now they’re playing the wobble.

I will long live to regret this. I’m sure of it. 
#itwasthewobbletho #TURNUP #andtheysteppin #andthecupidshuffle #andmichaeljackson #dammit

This Race: Rock N Roll San Jose, 5K, San Jose CA
Medaled Miles to date: 54.37 miles

Total Raced Miles to date: 67.47 miles 

3 Medals To Go ǁ 76% Complete

Camo Aint Coverin' This!

So, I told you all about that challenge my lady-women-female type friends were doing, right? And how I slick didn’t participate but blogged in my attendance a few times? Yea, that. So, one of the challenges was:

Day #13, Wear something you never would: This is going to sound a little crazy, but the hardest thing for me to get used to when I move to San Francisco from NYC was that no one wears heels here! I mean, my feet are grateful, but I now feel a little self conscious walking into a restaurant in pumps. But today I am challenging you, and myself to wear something you normally avoid. For me it's heels. What it is for you? Snap a pic and post it for us.

Here's why what you wear matters. When you put on sweat pants, ill fitting jeans or a worn-one-too-many-times sweater, you feel sluggish, low energy or flat and very often we'll reach for a sugarly pick me up to get out of our sweat pants induced slump. When you wear something fun, edgy, even exhilarating, you feel ah-mazing, and you no longer need food to give you your jolt of fabulous. Your shoes did that for you. Sure, clothes aren't the whole story, which is why I spend so much time talking about the inner work in Live More Weigh Less, but it seriously helps a lot.

And much like one of my friend-women-ladies doing the challenge, I thought, what wouldn’t I wear? Or at least give a try? I love trying new outfits! Accessories? Bring it! Shoes? Right…exactly. I am all about changing my style, doing something different, and reinventing my wardrobe. Of all the challenges. I knew this was the one that would not challenge me. At all.

Then I got ready to run. Challenge on.

I don’t wear running shorts for long distances because, aside from the fact my thighs are cottage cheesy and taking away from the awesomness that is my calf muscles...there is the rub. And friction with 0.1 miles left is hell. Trust me. I rarely do the exposed arms thing because I want to run, not take off. And you don’t frequent flyer miles for the speed at which I run…so arms stay covered.

I always see people in the cutest running gear! It’s colorful. Tight fitting. Prints. Stylish. Chic. Headbands, that match the tank tops, that coordinate with the pants, that bring out the sparkling reflectors of the shoes.

Then there’s me. A long sleeved black top, black Spaulding running cropped pants, and Ascis Gel Kayano’s a half size larger because, well, feet need space.

I envy them because their bodies are beautiful, and mine is tragic. Like really, it’s a mess under here. Yea, I don’t let the numbers on the scale affect me too much, but the mirror? Ugh. I mean, it’s mine, and I’m stuck with it, and I’ll do my best to do right by it, but I also think it’s important to be kind to strangers, so I pretty it up.

It just so happens while Sarah Jenks was busy figuring out how to challenge us, I began challenging myself. As I was perusing the neutral activewear options, I came across a pair of camouflage printed pants. We know my love of camo, so of course I bought them. And I was happy about it.

Until, of course, I got home and walked by the mirror. And realized I had a donkey on my back and I was going to have to figure out how to stuff it all in those pants. Um…about that… *folds pants up, places them in bottom drawer, acts like it never happened, folds receipt up*

And I have really been chilling like those pants aren’t my bottom drawer taking up space that is not infinite. Until this text conversation with my Rikki, who’s running Rock N Roll Las Vegas with me! See she thinks it would be a cool idea to run-rock-drink-repeat in a tutu. And, she’s super willing to do ALL THE WORK. All I have to do is get ALL OF THIS DONKEY on my back in it.

Ma’am.

So, I thought I could outsmart her right? I love camouflage…surely they haven’t gone through the trouble of making tutu material out of that camouflage stuff. I’ve never seen a ballerina go to war. I respond *cleverly* that if she finds one in camo, that it would be the only way I would do it. Because it’s not 2014. And we haven’t put a man on the moon. And nope, we don’t carry around next to lightweight devices that control our every single minute. Nope…none of that.

I hate everything about every internet ever made. Ever. I’m like Scarface in Half Baked. F-U Pinterest, F-U Etsy, F-U Lightening speed data network, You cool, and F-U Google Search! I’m out!

What am I supposed to do now? Sarah challenged me. My women-female-lady friends challenged me. Rikki is challenging peer pressuring me. And the finite amount of space in the bottom drawer is mocking me. #MakeItStopMama

I mean I suppose it was bound to happen. I have been stretching people to their limits all year. Telling Forcing Demanding Asking them lovingly to do things they never intended their minds, bodies or pocketbooks would do. And they did them. And got some new found greatness at the end of it #MedalMonday. Became different and better for it. Realized things only that experience could have done for them.

And here I am in this room ready to cry real tears because my booty is too big and when I walk it’s like it has a mind (and social calendar) of its own and moves like it has somewhere else in a different direction to go. I literally almost had a breakdown when I accidentally looked back at my butt attempting to speak to a staff member. I stood, in my footsteps, attempting to figure out, how to walk back to my office, with my booty concealed. Dee talked me off the ledge and up the stairs via group text.

…and now a tutu.

Dammit. #OffToStretchTheStretchinessOutOfTheseCamoPants

Perfection, Reconsidered

Perfection. Some people, like Sara Jenks would say, fck it. Fck the idea of perfection. If you do, you might live more and weigh a little less #challenge… But, I’m not some people, and unfortunately, perfection is one thing I am after. I did not take the challenge. I weigh too much.

But on the 12^th day of the challenge, I began to think more about perfection. Mostly because my women-lady-friends were busy fck’in it.

Day #12: Friday, 9/26, F**k Perfect: Today I want you to think about what's not perfect (about your body, life, relationship) and love it anyways. For me, it's my belly. Although my stomach isn't tight or smooth, to me it is perfect. We all have different faces, hair color and feet, and we see all as unique and beautiful. Why do we feel the need to all have the same stomach? Mine is different. I've gone through different things, had different experiences and have a unique constitution. A HUGE part of living more is acceptance. If we can't accept and love our bodies now, we can never take care of them. Think about it, we take care of things we love, not the things we hate. So if you're brave enough, post a picture of what isn't perfect, but you love anyways.

…and I remember that one time I reconsidered perfection. If I was brave enough to do this challenge with my friends, I probably would have said something like:

Lots of things about me aren’t perfect, and they won’t ever be. And that bothers me. And I spend a great deal of mental, emotional, material, physical everything into reaching perfection. And though I’m not there yet, the fact that I believe I can attain it #ImALeo, motivates me. But there is this one thing that I haven’t been perfect at in my life. One particular thing that I have 0 wins, and ALL loses. Relationships. Every relationship I have ever been in has ended (not a big surprise, right? Relationships end). And though the cast changed, the script was always the same. It always ended, always …him… leaving me. Never the other way around. Stunned by the departure. Not ready for it to end. Wanting to do whatever it took to make it work. Holding on way too long after the door closed. …him… Always went away. Told me in his unique way, but left all the same. And somehow their leaving worked out well for them. Like it made their lives better. I suppose these things are a lot like science. Energy, like love, perhaps isn’t created. It’s just transferred. And they always took a little more with them than they came in with. And I was always left with less.

Anyway, that time I reconsidered perfection…

The problem with perfection is knowing that you will never be the one thing you aspire to be – perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect friend, perfect student, perfect professional, perfect stranger…and yes, the perfect girlfriend. To most, the idea of perfection is a disease, a mental dysfunction. It’s such an absurdity, that when someone mentions that they aspire to be perfect, they imperfectly take a seat in front of the firing squad of all the experts in life… nobody’s perfect … it’s impossible … you have to live for you, you can’t live to please everybody else … it won’t work…it just won’t work. And I suppose they are right. After all, where has perfection gotten me?

So how is it that I’ve come to be what I am now? A fount of mis-steps. I did everything wrong… I hate his friends, I make all these double standards, and he cannot talk to me… We argue about the same things over and over again. Over and over again…this is a new one for me…especially when attached to an error. Doing and saying all the wrong things. Not being considerate, or understanding, or kind enough? Just not. Doing the opposite of everything I intend. Having to note that my intentions were always good, always decent, always perfect.

I have been completely imperfect. I forgot to do things I didn’t know…didn’t think about the things nobody ever told me I should, and I tried all over the place. And I own that it wasn’t right – and that’s just the truth. That’s how it ended. With the truth. With that truth in particular. Although, that was the truth we discussed in those arguments in which we had about the same things over and over. I said, didn’t say, did and didn’t do all the things I was and wasn’t supposed to do. This is by far one of the most difficult times in my life…everything is unplanned, undecided and completely not figured out. My relationship is over, work is almost unbearable, and I am so far away from the people I love.

So I found the energy to make it to Church – and before Noon no doubt. I have come to appreciate multiple Church services so much that my comfort level with “mega-church” is increasing by the week. I sat a few rows from the front feeling like an outsider. I have been outside of myself for these past couple of weeks that remembering how to be in Church seemed so foreign. I couldn’t sing like I wanted. I couldn’t praise like I wanted, I couldn’t be any of the things that I wanted to be because I did not want to. I had no desire to. Who I was ended something so special and important to me, caused me so much grief at work, and hadn’t brought any new friends into my life…so she isn’t the person I want to be. She is too flawed… Couldn’t even pray any words than “help”…hoping that Jesus would have mercy enough to feel in the blanks…

My favorite part of service, surprisingly enough is the message. For a lover of music like myself, I’m sure that comes as a surprise, but not really when you think about it. Lemme ‘splain somethin to’ya. I’m an academic (translation: I’m a nerd). The message has always spoken to me! Because more than music, there are words. There have always been words, and a speaker with a humble message delivered plainly has always made the difference… Today’s Message: Lasting Relationships. err? The Heck? Talk about fate. Fate, and what would soon turn out to be a most thought provoking message.

I questioned every single thing I did in our relationship. Good and bad. Because of one statement. I suppose I will continue to question until peace finds me because those words haven’t changed. And I suppose if they ever change, they will be in the form of well, you did this, that and the other, BUT… There is always a but…a big old fat but. The words, I can’t see any of the good, because of all the bad will make anyone with a broken everything question anything. And these days…hello…it’s all broke.

Lasting Relationships. That’s the part that burns. I believed that my relationship would last. That there would be good days that would melt my heart with just a fleeting memory, and bad that I would dare not wish upon anyone – days I would shield my sisters from...and love would be in them all. No matter the days we had, he is done with it all, and really only remembers the worst of it. Why don’t I remember the worst of it? Why don’t I feel just like him? Why am I not already okay with it all, and moved on? He did, he moved on, and obviously his life is well now, so why isn’t mine well? Why am I so sad, that it drives me to anger? I’ve boxed up some really hard things in my life, but this…this is face down in a cardboard grave too small to fit it all in, adjacent to the couch. It mocks me.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the Church in Philippi while he was in jail, confessing his undying love. I thank my God upon every remembrance of you, Always in every prayer of mine for you all making request with joy, For your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now… Pastor Hilton began talking about how Paul founded the Church at Philippi some time ago, and though the years passed the Church was ever in Paul’s heart. His affection despite it all and through it all never wavered. He then made a statement that pretty much brought tears to my eyes, there’s just something about staying with someone. That is the complete truth – there is.

And I stayed. When I felt like he had no desire to meet any of my friends, and I felt like we talked about the same stuff all the time, and when I felt like those deep things of me I had to hold back. For everyone has their season(s). We live in the world and the reality is, the world will give you a set of circumstances like the mystery baskets on Chopped…always a curveball, or the occasional set of odd things that seem to have nothing in common that will for a moment, confuse you to no avail. Before I ever said I love you I know that it was love. Because we can’t (and I didn’t) love like the world, we cannot start off strong and drift away – there is something about staying with someone. There is something about commitments that last and covenants we keep.

The Church loved Paul just as much. Pastor Hilton described the Church’s affection three ways. They gave Paul support, friendship and fellowship. He went on to make the ever-present but plain analogy. What people today would stand behind their preacher if he were in jail? People who loved him. People who trusted his mission until it became THE mission, THEIR mission – a shared mission. While he was in jail, through the hard times, they never left him. They loved him from the first day until now. As it goes with many relationships I have not been able to understand, on the surface it doesn’t make any sense. To forgive the person that broke the vows. The break up and make up over and over again. The relationships we saw, hanging out at the bottom of Bruin Walk, that for no apparent reason us educated black folks could surmise, would stand through anything. What magnificence that was to see… A person, who stands beside a person that others would caution you against.

I loved him from the first day. In 2008. I suppose I even loved him in that first beginning – the my baby daddy one in April of 2003. Anyway, 2008, I ran away from Tennessee in a gassed up green Ford Explorer to crash ACPA and see my KSJ. We sat in the Cheesecake Factory trading memories, creating moments and drinking martinis. Until now. Wherever this place is we are/aren't.

I want to stop loving. The worst part is, sometimes I believe that to stop loving is really what I want. To not love at all. My “twin” would tell me something similar to the message I heard that day. The problem (really not a problem) is that when you love without limits you give people a trust they may not deserve. I understand it, because I am a scholar, but the logic behind it is all messed up. Isn’t this what we all deserve? Trust? A trust without limits? He doesn’t believe I trusted him, and that is just not true at all. He had a trust he did not deserve because I loved him sans limits. What wouldn’t I do? What wouldn’t I give? What wouldn’t I try? And how much did I forgive? Forgive and never speak of again? All the things I trusted he would say no matter what his intentions were that day. All the things I trusted that he would keep between us, that he didn’t.

I can’t stop loving. Honestly, I haven’t figured out how, which hasn’t come from trying. Oh, have I tried! But just like my best friend said, that isn’t really me, and it’s not the person I want to be. We keep giving to a love we believe in, we sacrifice for a vision we trust. Why could I only see the vision? Why did I put so much stock in it? The life we described in our first days was the life I wanted. 

So what is it about the first anyway? I imagine when Paul founded the Church in Philippi there wasn’t a sour thought or doubt in his mind. He had a vision from someone that he loved, and he trusted that vision. I imagine he knew there would be hard times, but I don’t believe he ever thought about a time in which he and his love (the Church) would ever be apart. He’s human, so it’s possible he considered the possibility, but never seriously. I don’t think Paul ever prepared for a time in which his affections for or his desire to be with them would change – no matter how they changed or their desires changed. Much like Pastor Hilton, Paul refuse[d] to lose confidence in [their] beginning, how God brought [them] together.

God’s beginnings are miracles. They really are. And we, in very different ways we lost sight of the miracle of our beginning. We met when neither of us was looking for anything but a lunch and drunks kinda moment… Good food, good fun, a good time. That was just enough. Us in a moment only to have happened by a miracle. I guess you’d wonder how something so miraculous could end. Wounds in our way. So many wounds. Seemingly unforgivable curses. We had a vision we did not share. The wounds got in the way of the conversations I wanted to have but was afraid to have because his ears were waxed gross. Sharing the vision is saying ‘I do and I die’ daily. We didn’t do much…we died a lot, but not always to ourselves in our sacrifices for each other, to the world.

 

…because, as bad as I want it, I have to want me more. Love me more. So, fck perfect. #MadePerfectByMyImperfections #IAmAllThatIAm