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Posts Tagged ‘the crazy’

You all know how I feel about marathons. (I know, I know – 2 running posts in a week?! Bear with me.)

Basically, I’m hooked. And since I’ve started running them I’ve noted a few special ones that I want to check off my list – Boston, Chicago, Philly, to name a few. But I always figured that after last year, I’d cut back to just one marathon a year instead of two. That would be the sane thing to do, right?

Right. Until MJ suggested to me that we could turn 2011 into the Year of Marathon Maniacs.

I used to think that people who even considered this were crazy. Then I read some of the “how do you know if you’re a Maniac” questions:

  • Do your thoughts switch to the next scheduled race immediately after finishing a marathon?
  • Are you signed up for more than one race right now?
  • Do you know specifics about many of the marathons? Dates, courses, years run, etc.?
  • Do you know the story of how the marathon got started? Also why the course is 26.2 miles?

Guilty as charged.

The highest level of Maniac (titanium) has the following requirements:

  • 52 Marathons or more within 365 days. OR
  • 30 Marathons in 30 US states, Countries, or Canadian Provinces (any combination) within 365 days. OR
  • 20 Countries within 365 days.

We all know that’s just crazy, but take a look at the requirements for a bronze-level Maniac:

  • 2 Marathons within a 16 day time frame.OR
  • 3 Marathons within a 90 day time frame.

So MJ and I have signed up for the Chicago Marathon (October 9th), Marine Corps Marathon (October 30th), and just today the Philadelphia Marathon (November 20th). Count ’em out – that’s 3 within 90 days.

I told another marathoner friend about this Maniac goal and he wrote me back saying, “I went to the web site for maniac marathoner or what ever it was called. 3 in 90 seems “reasonable” those upper levels seem beyond. What does the membership give you other than serious bragging rights? Just curious.

It’s a good question. But really? It’s just the bragging rights. And a t-shirt.

But mostly the bragging rights.

Come July I’ll be starting my training for all three, and probably cursing myself and the DC heat. But I know that on November 20th, when I finish Philly and I have all three of those beautiful medals and know that I’ve pushed my body to the max, it will all be worth it.

And who knows, maybe I’ll even get a new PR in there somewhere. I now have three chances to break 4:56:29!

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This past weekend, in an attempt to cross something else off my list, I took advantage of a free Sunday morning and went to church. I’d heard a lot of good things about this particular one, and it seemed like a place I’d be comfortable going to. I was there a little early – I wanted to get a feel for the layout, and not rush – so I sat down on a bench near the receptionist’s desk and began reading some of the material.

There was a man already sitting down near me, but I didn’t think anything of it. Until he started talking to me.

At first it was just the normal small talk – hi, how are you, and the like. And it was nothing new. I’m used to random people striking up conversation with me. But then this conversation got a little weirder.

Church Guy held up what looked like an album cover with a picture of a woman on it.

CG: This is my girlfriend. This is my girlfriend. Isn’t she pretty? Isn’t she pretty? (He had a tendency to repeat things – not everything, but the important points, I’m guessing.)

Me: *nodding politely* Yes, she’s very pretty.

CG: She’s very pretty. Very pretty. You’re very pretty, too. You know, I’ve known her since 1976! 1976! I bet that’s before you were born! How old are you?

Me: *even while thinking that I need to extricate myself from this conversation* I’m 25.

CG: 25? So I could be your father? I could be your father. She could be your mother!

At that point, after politely nodding once more, I stood up to ask the receptionist the way to the sanctuary, figuring that would be the end of it. But, as I asked her, Church Guy interjected: “I’ll show her, Mary! I got it!

We walked to the stairs, and as we got to the first landing, he asked me, “Will you do me a favor?” He put the album cover of his girlfriend on the ground and said, “Will you just step on this, please? Just step on it.

Me: No. I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.

CG: It won’t hurt it at all! Look!

He picked it up and showed me that he’d reinforced the back of the picture with duct tape.

Me: No, I’m sorry. I’m really not comfortable.

CG: Please? I just want to take a picture of you stepping on it.

Me: NO. I wouldn’t want anyone to step on my picture, and I’m not going to step on anyone else’s.

CG: Okay. Just keep going up then. The sanctuary’s that way.

And with that, he turned around and walked back downstairs to the reception area. And I started to wonder – how is it that these people always find me? I know I could have been ruder or a complete bitch, but that’s really not my style. And it’s not like I ever actually felt threatened.

I’ll be honest: I really liked the church, but I probably won’t spend too much time in the reception area anymore. There’s only so much crazy a girl can handle on her own.

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Dear Jefe,

I know you didn’t notice my meltdown yesterday because you were too busy changing every insignificant detail of your presentation. You barely noticed the fact that I was still in the office more than two hours after I should have left, and you actually left before me. I’m sure you had to hurry off to an econ class, as well.

I don’t mind making changes. I actually enjoy working on these presentations because they’re good exposure to all of the surveys we do and the information we collect. What I don’t like is how you still don’t understand that every time you say, “Let’s just put an extra space in there,” it means more than the five seconds of work you think it’ll take. Every time you ask me to create a new chart, I have to do it from scratch, and that takes time. Sometimes, with the things you ask, I think you think that PowerPoint is magic, or that I am, but neither is true.

Though I’ll take the compliment.

I have tried to explain to you that I am working as fast as I can, and trying to accommodate your every whim. Please understand this.

And next time, if you could let me know about any changes before the day you’re supposed to leave for a conference, it would really help with me keeping my sanity.

I don’t think my benefits cover crazy.

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Have you ever woken up in one of those moods where you just know that you shouldn’t be around people when you feel like that? Where you’re constantly thinking, don’t you dare look at me in that tone of voice? And god forbid someone ask you what’s wrong.

That was me yesterday.

And so I sat at my desk all day with my headphones in, attempting minimal interaction with coworkers, so as not to offend anyone with my ‘tude. And I counted down to 5:30, while also fearing that I was crazy for being such a mood for no discernible reason.

This morning?

Well, I actually look a lot more like that photo (a night out after a softball game will do that), but the cranky is gone. Thank god. I can actually be social and friendly and not stare daggers at anyone who crosses me. Which really just makes for a better work environment all around.

But, should the cranky come back, I’m curious – what do you do if you have a mood you just can’t shake?

I’m pretty sure it was the alcohol last night that killed this one, but I don’t want to have to bank on that.

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One week from tomorrow I will be in the midst of running my first ever marathon. Or, depending on when you read this, I may have already collapsed over the finish line. But regardless, however you slice it, Saturday March 20th is Marathon Day.

I’ve run plenty of races in the past year and a half, and I’ve learned the value of crowd support. And never will it be so necessary as during these 26.2 long miles. I’ve already convinced my parents to come down and cheer, and we have a few truly insane devoted friends who have already agreed to leave the comfort of their beds that morning to watch us participate in this craziness.

But now, I have a proposition for you, should you live in the DC area. Come out and be a spectator! (Or, you know, run alongside us. That would be awesome.)

This course is 100% in the District. It covers Dupont, Adams Morgan, H Street, Capitol Hill, Nationals Park, and Anacostia.*

It does start at 7am (early, I know), but will last easily until 11am (probably even noon, for me). And the best part? Look how warm it’s supposed to be!

You’ll want to be outside anyway! Even if it coincides with nursing that hangover. Which could be counteracted with the coffee and bagels being offered at the Spectator Community Spirit Festivals!

Yes, I know this is a shameless plug and plea, but I can tell you from experience as both a runner and a spectator that the cheering can make all the difference.

Let me know if you think you’ll be able to make it out – OR if you know anyone else running.

Just one more week…

Happy Friday!

*Legalities (kind of): After a conversation with Heather, where we discussed begging asking people to come out and cheer, it was determined that we couldn’t actually ask anyone to cheer along the Anacostia route – even if it is during the tail end of the race when we need the motivation. Therefore, should you decide to spectate from there, consider this the official notice that I’m not asking you to go to that specific area, nor am I responsible if it’s too sketchy.

But still come out to the non-sketch places, please!

It has been brought to my attention that the above note could possibly be construed as offensive. If you were offended, I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect to any neighborhood – it was my poor attempt at a little humor.

But, then again, I am a WASP. I should know better than to try to be funny.

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Do you ever have those days where you have a post all ready to go, all you have to do is hit “publish,” but then you balk? Something about it feels off. The words are right, the sentiment’s spot on, but the timing just isn’t. I’ve never felt it as strongly as I did this morning. So, on to Post B.

Last night the girls and I had a little quality time at Good Stuff Eatery. First of all, delicious. And the milkshakes to top off the meal filled my sweet tooth quota for at least a month. Although, admittedly, I could have gone for a mini-moo size instead of regular, considering I could only finish about a quarter of it.

Anyway, as we played catch-up (it’s surprisingly hard to coordinate schedules, for us all being in the same city) Cla asked H about the guy she’d been seeing recently.

Well, I tried to break up with him, but he didn’t listen.

What does that mean?

He just wouldn’t break.

He wouldn’t let you break up with him?

No. He told me he loved me, instead. And followed with, ‘Please let me spend the night. I can’t leave thinking this is the last time I’ll see you.‘”

denial

Whoa.

In addition to the fact that he comes across as *slightly* melodramatic, I’m also confused by the break-up refusal. Sure, I’ve been on both sides of the ending of a relationship, and I have, at times, ┬ádesperately wanted the other person to change his mind.

But I draw the line at begging.

And I also don’t think I’d want to be in a relationship where I have to convince someone to stay with me. Can that ever end well?

So what are you going to do? Have you talked to him?

He’s been texting and emailing. I think he knows it’s coming, but he’s trying to ignore it.

Ah, feigned ignorance and copious amounts of denial. If that’s not a recipe for success, I don’t know what is.

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I have this one particular flaw that sometimes gets me into trouble. Or at least causes issues.

Here’s what happens: I let some innocuous comment get under my skin. I let it sit and marinate until I’ve imagined an entire scenario based around this one remark – a remark that the person who said it usually doesn’t even remember. I’ve been known to let it stew for days.

But do I say anything? Give any heads up that I might be a little peeved, even if it’s not entirely justified?

No, that would be too easy.

I get aggressive. Or passive-aggressive. Snippy, snarky, bratty – depends on the situation. But the long and short of it is that I usually (usually) end up getting mad over something that I’ve fabricated in my own mind! I know – it’s absurd. And it sounds even dumber when I type it out like this.

On the semi-plus side (if you can call it that), those closest to me know that I do this. They know that I have a little touch of the crazy and an overactive imagination when it comes to certain issues. They often call me out and (usually) love me anyway.

But I know that doesn’t make it all right on my end. Not even close. There has got to be a way to keep the crazy at bay. Because, more often than not, it has very little to do with the other person, and nearly everything to do with my own insecurities and perceptions.

My hope, in writing and acknowledging this, is that I’ll be able to do a better job of not letting my imagination run wild. Or maybe I can just start by saying something right off the bat, before the comment has any time to morph into a Big Deal.

Whatever the solution may be, I refuse to let the crazy win.

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