Running/Track

Okay, so ...

Why do shy and quiet girls always start a bold statement with 'okay, so ...' I mean, can't a girl just say something, but, no! she has to say 'okay, so ...' so it minimizes what she's saying so people won't look at her, because if they look at her, she might just be noticed ... SHOCKER! ... and then she's die, so she has to start of everything, with 'okay, so ...'

So, anyway ... (and don't get me started on the 'so, anyway's)

So, I ran in this 5k race this past Monday (or 'weakend' as I almost wrote), 32 minutes, 10 minute miles or ... 6 miles per hour for the whole race ... not bad, not bad for a little nothing of a girl with toothpick legs.

I didn't run again until today ... my whole body hurt but today I was fine so I ran a 5k ...

... and then my arm hurt ... my legs did okay, actually.

Backtrack.

Okay, so I jack-rabbited off the start line, because I was like: 'why is everybody running so slowly?' so I passed a bunch of people. There were young people and middle-aged people and out of shape people and lithe boys and girls jogging along, chatting with each other as they sailed past me.

They didn't irritate me. The ones who irritated me where the little kids, 10 years old, who ran past me, stopped to tie their shoes, and sprinted off before I could catch up to them, the walked along until they heard me coming up to them, the zipped away, then ambled along until I ...

GRRRRR!!!!! #_#

I wasn't running against them, I was running the race to win, and to win, for me, was to run all the way, don't stop, don't walk, and I got my best time in years since I was on the high school cross country team.

(No, girls, don't get all giddy, I didn't get a varsity letter or anything)

And then I crossed the finish line ... nope: it was the half-way mark where they were passing out water!

The half way mark? I almost passed out.

Because, like a total idiot, I sprinted toward what I thought was the finish.

GOD! That second half hurt. But I didn't stop, and I didn't walk. I finished the race, and I didn't let those jr. high girls lap me at the end.

AND I didn't actually puke at the end, either, so: bonus!

AND THEN I hurt, a lot! Runner's headache and runner's achy-ache.

WELL! TODAY!

I ran a 5k jog, went to work, my arm hurting, then I find I have to take my nieces to track after work? (Short story, but not for here) So, what's a girl to do, but to do laps with her nieces?

Yup? Guess who just did another full workout?

Lemme rephrase that: guess who's in agony right now?

*sigh*

Okay. Done with that, on to the Haloz!

So, I get on Live for a little bit in the Campaign to get some more assists, because I so love helping people (actually, ... I do) (The use of the word 'actually' makes the previous statement more emphatic, girls, so, obviously, it's 'more' true @_@)

And I scare one guy right out of the game (Hey, I can't help it; I rawk!)

Another guy was like, 'Hey, cool, wanna play again?' We get into team doubles and DO-MI-NATE! He's like: 'You're really good!' (he didn't say 'for a girl,' either, which was nice) And I'm like "Thanks. I really 'try hard'" And he's like 'no try about it."

Nice kid. And I helped him get his challenges completed and he said, 'you're really nice, lol' (why do people say 'lol' when they are not, in fact, laughing at all?) and I was like 'Wait 'til we play a jerk and you read my nastygrams!' and he was like 'I'll be a good boy, then!'

Like that: nice, easy, effortless.

Life can be like that, I suppose: nice, easy, effortless.

It is for some people. Like at track today. We did it at Annandale High School ('Go Atoms!'), and they had a football game going on at the same time.

High school football.

(`phfina shakes her head)

All those boys? They, each of them, were Greek gods, built like Hercules, strong, powerful, deliberate and graceful, and all the girls on the sidelines, chatting with each other?

They were all taller than me, except for the ones who weren't, they were all more poised than me, they were all projecting confidence and ease, and grace, and belonging. They belonged to each other, to their cliques, yes, but, to their group, of 'young girls who have it all together.' They were smiling and laughing, and playing with the boys or in conversations with each other...

It was intimidating. I was afraid that, like, one of the coaches would be like, 'Water girl! Get over here now! Our boys are thirsty! Tend to them!' And I'd be like a deer in the headlights, and maybe I'd hang my head and get water bottles, and maybe all the girls would look at me and point and talk about me with lifted eyebrows and dropped voices but with castigation evident for the little mouse of a girl invading their turf.

That didn't happen, but I'm almost sick thinking that it could so easily have transpired. And what would I do? I was terrified being at a high school, looking as young, sometimes younger than the student body that a truant officer would grab me by the scruff of the neck and put me right in detention!

DETENTION!?!?!?!

I am so glad I'm not still in High School.

But that's the thing: that's my problem. All those boys ... men, and girls, ... they were at ease, and easy, about their whole 'game of football after school' experience. I never was.

Um ... um ... now I'm supposed to say where I do fit in, but my body's feeling achy, and my mind is shutting down now, at 8:54 pm, for some reasons, like: work and double exercise, so I'll just end here.

Oh, maybe that's life though: trying to fit in, or to conform, and always, always adjusting, or, trying not to conform, but ford your own path, your own way.

I actually (for emphasis) don't know which one I'm trying to do. I'm a try hard, but I don't even know what I'm trying for or what I'm trying at.

Such is life, right now, with my eyes drooping.

And, on balance, right now, right this instant, I feel pretty good about that. I'm trying, and sometimes I succeed, and sometimes, like right now, that's good enough.