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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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.

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

Always Order Tacos On Tuesday #ItMightEndBadly

Tuesday was not a good day. No Ma'am. No Sir. Not at all.

I woke up late. Missed a morning meeting. Was moving slowly through my entire commute. But, before I crossed the next city limit, I got a message from one of my work colleagues. See, he had been waiting, probably impatiently, for me to get to work so that we could dish. Well, I call it dishing he’d probably just say, catching up or talking. He has just returned from the northeast. RMF left California single, but came back with someone with the same last name. And he just had to tell me all the deets, right?

Right. So… Lunch.

We met at a Mexican restaurant at the border of campus. Literally across the street, but still in downtown, right? And what had the makings of a terrible day, got exponentially better with a hug! His smile. Flash of the ring. Married man glow. It was all there. He even refused to let me treat him…and I wanted to!

As we were talking about all the love and laughter us west coast friends missed out on, a sound was heard. A sound. A noise. A shock so shocking, that instantly, happiness ended. We had to attend to that matter at hand. A second noise, to the window enacted our active shooter training and in a millisecond, we were hiding underneath the table.

I am underneath a table in a Mexican restaurant. I am afraid for my life. A third sound is heard. RMF had made his way behind the counter. I got stuck between the stool and table bolted into the floor. But I wiggled my way, still on the ground, about to shelter behind the counter.

See, the restaurant front is all glass – floor to ceiling.

RMF made sure that I was okay. He grabbed my hand. He drug me near him. He looked me square in my eye, and with a certainty almost like my Daddie’s, tells me that I am alright and that we are going to be alright. And his embrace ensures me that at this point, nothing else (bad) is going to happen to me. Though I am literally afraid, I know that I only fear what had already happened to me. He has me covered.

Eventually law enforcement arrived sans sirens and purposeful movements. We leave because, well, danger. From what we can see, it does not appear that there was a gunman. It looks as if someone threw things at the window. But we don’t know for sure. We are only certain about moving expeditiously to a safer place.

Afraid. It’s loneliness, you know, being afraid. And I have the lion’s share of loneliness (in my heart, at least). I know it well. It’s devoid of sound #thesilenceofmymind. Of feeling. Of progress. It stops me from moving in any direction – even backwards. I don’t understand things. I over understand things. I can’t find the words to say…or write.

Why would someone attempt such an assault on a Mexican restaurant? Was there someone or something inside they were after? Did they know there were mothers with their infant babies inside? Did they desire to strike fear in our hearts? Was something wrong with them mentally? Perhaps a random act of violence? Could this have been an accident? Misunderstanding? Should I have ordered tacos instead of nachos? #ItWasTuesday

Too many things to ponder as I attempted to verbalize my erratic feelings. Then RMF said it…I totally thunk it though. He just got married. What a tragic thing to happen literally day after being married. His wife. His beautiful wife. He is thankful that his wife was not there.

That comment had nothing to do with me. He didn’t say that to hurt me. Or to push me further into my despair. But to think that I didn’t go there would be false. To say that there isn’t some of that residual feeling left would be a more heinous lie. It’s not that people in my life aren’t worried about me, or wouldn’t worry about me had they known, in the moment what was happening, it’s just that my I haven’t met yet-somebody's son isn’t here to care. To make me leave my office like RMF did. To make me open up and say something about my feelings before they turned to complete madness. To do all the things he could to fix it, though he was sitting right across from me, there to experience it.

My conference hubby described it as a bout of loneliness…and I suppose I’ll have to do a couple of  a few many rounds with it for a while. He told me that I needed to let it go. Right? Let God have his way... That I was amazing. And that there was good stuff ahead of me. That’s hard to see from the floor of a Mexican restaurant. At least hard to see if you were me. If you were RMF, you saw all of that…which was why you (he) took command of that situation, made sure that I was okay, and made sure we were safe.

I couldn’t bring myself to go out in public the next day because, well…fear (among a host of other feelings). While doing nothing about my current situation, I checked my email. I forwarded an email from one email client to the other. As I did that, I stopped and stared at the automated signature which populated in the message:

Life is short, live it. Love it rare, grab it. Anger is bad, dump it. Fear is awful, face it.  Memory is sweet, cherish it.

...like in an email signature.

Fear is awful honey…you just have to face it though. That means you have to go outside. You have to live. And it will be hard, but TR has been telling you since forever and a day to do it afraid…and this is real fear. And this is what it sometimes means to do it afraid.

It’s funny. I’ve talked numerous times about provisions. How our parents make provisions for us. I came to this realization in a Ball Pit. Who knew though, that I would be making provisions for myself? That I would find a collection of words that would motivate me to move through my hesitation, through my doubt, through my fear.

Fear is not real. The only place fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination causing us to fear things that do not, at present and may not ever, exist. That is near insanity. Do not misunderstand me, Danger is very real. But fear is a choice. #WillSmith #AfterEarth