The other day mom asked why I haven’t been tweeting lately (where she gets most of her inside info from since I’m bad about calling home) and I said it was because I was busy and just wasn’t feeling very “twittery.” Mark my word that will be a real word in the next two years, by the way. Sometimes you just don’t feel like talking, and sometimes you’re doing all your talking somewhere else and just don’t have words leftover. That will make more sense at the end of this post, but anyway, here’s what’s been up.
“Who’s here? Is daddy home??”
Every time (damnit I still write that as one word every single damn time) someone asks how running and the injury is going I get all “weelllllll… see it’s like…ugh it’s kind of complicated” as if I’m about to describe [something long-winded and complex and embarrassing that I couldn’t come up with at the time, left blank, and am here editing this post a day later still without an idea of what it might be]
I’m casually running about 20 miles a week; still no real workouts, training plans, or races on the horizon. Going to the gym and hopping on the treadmill for 30 minutes before hitting the weights or a group class is a fun reminder of how “normal people” work out. It’s also a fun reminder of how lunatic crazy we runners are sometimes.
loving spin lately, even if Roda is a kind of terrifying beast machine that scares me into more “ADD A QUARTER TURN!”s than I can handle
The urge to get back into hard training and put a goal race on the is there, but is always overshadowed by my inane fear of this stupid injury rearing it’s stupid head again. I can feel it’s getting better, but the discomfort is never 100% gone. Is it discomfort I can run through? For sure. But I set out on this rehab mission so that it would heal completely, not just become tolerable. Some days it’s bad, usually when I’ve been lacking on my PT exercises duh, and some days I feel so good it makes me think I’m ready to start pushing now. But without a race on the horizon to rush me out of the gate I don’t really see the point in risking it. And I’ve been avoiding registering for anything for that reason. Kind of a chicken/egg situation.
selfie in new Lesko Shimmel during a post-run “I want to race!/I don’t want to race!” identity crisis
On Rehab Day 60 of 100 I did a treadmill hill workout to test it out – probably a little later than I could have, but I’ve been babying it being cautious. It went well and was encouraging, but I’m not ready to call it good to go until another hard workout passes the test. Maybe then I’ll start browsing the race reg sites. Anyway I made a pretty graph of it for you.
Hill workout for the ol’ treadmill – pick your own speed and increase accordingly
I’m hoping between Spring race season and going out to the Cleveland Marathon to cheer friends I’ll get bit by the race bug – and that I’ll be 100% mended by then.
The past few months have been busy showing, selling, and managing Fall 14 orders for my Oiselle territory. My freshman season has been a great learning experience and fun way to explore the other pockets of the sales world (I said I wasn’t meant for sales and would never go back after leaving my last job – turns out I just wasn’t meant for that kind of selling.) I love representing a brand I believe in and showing off terrific product to like-minded people, and being fully immersed in the corporate side of the running world. I’d call it a dream job if it wasn’t so part-time.
But, (don’t worry, I’m not going to say I’m leaving) ((also, sorry if you thought I was and you were going to swoop in and steal my job)) our face-to-face sales seasons are only a few weeks twice a year, the majority of the account management is done through email and phone. Once this season started wrapping up I realized my few freelance writing and marketing gigs weren’t going to keep me very occupied, and boredom was knocking louder each day. I also realized I’d been spending WAY too much time at the computer. If I had to guess, I’d say 80% of my human interactions were occurring digitally, and it was starting to show. I stumbled over words, struggled to cohesively string sentences together without an awkward “oh, what’s the word??!”, and my armpits seemed to be getting even sweatier than usual in public. My IRL social skills were deteriorating, fast.
One day a few weeks ago I was riding my bike back from the coffee shop I’d been at with my laptop full of digital ‘net friends, and I pulled up to the gastropub down the street for a beer. Because sometimes that’s just what you need to make the words flow, you know? Out of nowhere, without really realizing what I was doing, I blabbed, “Are you guys hiring?” The manager came out, handed me an application, the next day I had an interview and the day after that I had a job.
I worked restaurants in college and abhored everything about it except the money. It was a means to an end, and I made sure everyone there knew I was only there to pay tuition. When I graduated I felt this huge sense of “I’ll never be a waitress again!” empowerment, and settled in for my destined life of BSBA Marketing/Advertising/PR cubicle-hopping.
It’s funny how life works sometimes.
While leaving to work dinner shift when Brian gets home isn’t ideal and long weekend shifts will surely put a damper on any long running I may do in the future (how do you on-your-feet-all-day professionals do it?), I absolutely LOVE working there. The people – coworkers and guests – are cool and fun, we have (biasedly) the best craft beer selection in town that I get to learn and brag about, and I can actually feel my communication skills putting themselves back together each day. Somebody called me “witty” the other day! Do you know how long it’s been since someone has said that not about something I wrote? [answer: forever]
Do I feel weird working with all those me-five-years-ago college kids? A little. I like to smile and nod, refraining from patting them on their cute little heads when they talk about their business admin degrees and internships and “I can’t wait to leave here once I graduate” stories. No use tarnishing their dreams with my Bachelors Degree Behind the Bar role.
But the truth is, being there because I choose to makes all the difference. Rather than required internships, winter break “tuition+booze fund” jobs, and eventually punch-the-clock cubicle work I’d drudged through in the past, I’m there because I wanted human interaction and awesome beer, and that’s what I’m doing. And it feels good, even if my diploma is atrophying in the corner. Also it’s helping replenish the savings depletion I did during last summer’s soul searching funemployment mission.
nailed the “fun” part. If only there was a way to turn wanderlust adventuring into $$…
I think that’s all pretty universally applicable to most things in in career, love, and just life in general – surround yourself with things, work, and people who make you happy, and your world will suck a whole lot less. Who cares if it’s what you “should” do or want? And even if we can’t have exactly what we desire (does it ever really work that way?), learning to make the most of what we do have in the interim is all we can do. That’s something that this self-admitted “mope-er” needs to work on, and I’m thinking maybe that’s what all this off the beaten pathness is about after all. Piecing part time jobs and pouring pints might not be where I saw my future as an undergrad five years ago, but it’s working out and I’m happier at the end of the day because of it.
Suck on that, stressed out and miserable, Life Plan Sarah of 2008.
… fuck. Sub all those “five years ago” to six. Hashtag getting old.