Once upon a time, in a land far, far away (we'll call this land Arizona) there lived a girl. ("Girl" in this instance refers to a recently turned 40 year old spinster cat lady in a mid life crisis.) This girl had a blog and said blog was loosely running themed. (The term "running" is used loosely simply because there was a whole lot of not running happening.) I'm like that person that decides they are going to take up fly fishing so they buy all the books and equipment, but never actually goes fly fishing. I possess all of the equipment - basically two feet and some shoes- and I've even got the blog! But to have a running blog, it's probably ideal that it be maintained by, you know, someone that actually pauses Netflix long enough to run somewhere.
I just spent several amazing days with some friends at a waterfront condo in Panama City Beach, Florida. I was telling these wonderful people (who clearly know I'm a bizarre weirdo but pretend like I'm an entertaining and interesting individual) about this one running experience that I had where this guy was wearing an elevation mask but was all creepy and Darth Vader-like. I couldn't remember exactly what happened, so I looked up the blog entry and read it to them. They thought it was hysterical.
Well, this response fed my narcissistic, ego maniacal soul perfectly. So I read them a few more entries and again, they thought the entries were great. All joking aside about my ego, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed writing some of those entries and how much I missed being a part of the blogosphere.
I even went running on this trip, which rarely happens for me on vacation. Panama City Beach is an odd, eclectic tourist town and right now must be in the off season because the place was deserted. Also, Panama City has the most miniature golf courses I have ever seen in my life. Like, there's so many of them that it feels like maybe it's a cover up for something else. I mean, c'mon, this octopus looks shady as shit.
|Pretty sure he was hunting me as I ran by.|
Also, wtf with the color of this water? This mini golf course was right by condo and I must have mentioned the color of the water approximately 376485 times. I'm not sure why I was so obsessed with it, but it's certainly suspicious.
And not only that, but it wasn't the only mini golf course with the same color water. That, my friends, is the color of toilet water that is spiked with some sort of non-environmentally friendly concoction. In fact, I can't remember the last time I actually used a toilet with water that color, so maybe there's a chance it has been outlawed as an eco hazard, causing three eyed fish and double tailed squirrels and the perfect place to hide the surplus is at the 4536 miniature golf courses in the small tourist town of Panama City Beach.
I've struggled on and off over the years since I began writing this blog with trying to define what kind of blog this is. I suppose the original intent was to write a running blog because A) I had found so many blogs helpful when I was training to run my first half marathon and B) all the cool kids were doing it and we all know how cool I am.
|If this doesn't scream, "cool," then I don't know what does.|
The problem is that as far as training and ability goes, I really have nothing to offer most runners. I am not what some would call educated in really any aspect of running or working out and if we're really being honest here, no one gives two shits what my sets, reps or splits were on any given day.
BUT if you want to know what kind of crazy, outlandish and stupid shit that goes through my mind while I'm trying not to hurl myself in front of on coming traffic during a long run just to end the pain, then I'm your gal. I certainly have nothing to offer any reader as far as a training plan goes, but feel free to use me as an example of how not to do things. I'm pretty open and honest about my stupidity when it comes to my training cycles. I can also justify pretty much any completely insane dream or idea, so I also provide services as an enabler completely free of charge. #communityservice
|Regardless, I'm here for you.|
There's also a good chance that I reside somewhere on the psychological spectrum when it comes to illusions of grandeur because I rarely believe I can't do something. I might not be ready or capable at this very moment in time, but to me, that is not synonymous with being incapable. There is a difference between being incapable and untrained/inexperienced/unprepared. I don't doubt for a minute that I am capable of training hard enough to complete an Iron Man. I certainly couldn't do it right now, but I don't doubt that I could do it if I wanted it badly enough.
And likewise, I rarely believe that others can't do something. I hear it all of the time; I could never do what you do. And that, kids, is simply not true. Choosing not to do it is one thing, and I'm not being flippant when I say I have respect for that. But if you didn't try simply because you think that you can't, then you're robbing yourself of the victory. There is no victory quite like the victory that stems from a place of conquering fear, doubt, and a lack of faith. It's life changing and the feeling is so potent that when it happens, it's very hard to describe in the retelling.
And maybe that's the point here. Maybe it never was about splits, reps and PRs for me, but rather doing something simply because I had the idea that I could do it and therefore, would do it. I certainly have a flair for the dramatic, but it hurts my heart a little when I hear people say they can't do it, whatever the "it" happens to signify. Your road may be harder/slower/longer/more painful and that applies to so many aspects of life.
|This could be the background for a motivation meme, right?|
The answer is more often yes than people realize.
I'm running the WDW Marathon in January. Anyone that has crossed a marathon finish line knows what an insanely emotional experience it is. As much as I have a that flair for the dramatic, I think just about anyone that has crossed the finish line of a marathon will tell you that it is a life changing event; the good, the bad, and the ugly. I'm not in horrible shape going into this and I have more to say on that topic on another day, but I will leave you with this spoiler alert: I already have my race shirt picked out. Priorities, my friends.
Wow, I don't even know how this post got so damn serious, but I better put my bitch face back on before you guys start thinking I'm some sort of nice person. I can't go ruining my street cred. Helpful side note: sunglasses and a resting bitch face help keep people from sitting next to you on airplanes.
The point of this post got completely derailed like a runaway train, but I guess what I'm saying is that now seemed as good of a time as any to jump back into the blogosphere with this 26.2 mile trek of life defining misery glaring at me from the upcoming horizon. I follow many of my blogger friends on Instagram, so I've been following many of you and your adventures there. Likewise, many of you are already aware of some adventures I've had this summer that includes a humongous milestone for Louie The Magical Unicorn and myself, which deserves a stand alone blog post. Until next time, bloggarinos.
I should also note that I wrote this on Sunday while I was traveling and am just now getting around to actually posting it. Since I haven't posted anything for like, 4 months, I suppose this is par for the course with me.