Wednesday, September 21, 2011

The Importance of 711 on a 20 Mile Run

I went on a 20 mile run tonight in preparation for voluntary manslaughter on October 2nd. Yup, that would be a marathon, 1 of 3 this season... in case you have never done one and are considering it, let me offer you this one small bit of advice... DO. NOT. DO. IT. Unless you meet the following criteria first:

1. You enjoy wearing spandex
2. You are completely irritated with all the free time you have on Sundays
3. You like the taste of butt hole (that is what GU packets taste like)
4. You don't mind not being able to walk upright for about 10 hours after long runs
5. You enjoy a diet of Ibuprofen, water, GU, and Gatorade. Rinse. Repeat.

** WAIVER** all these can be waived if you have children... I find that Mothers who run are exceptional long distance runners, I think it is because they are naturally fit from chasing children around, eating cold meals that also resemble the taste of butt hole, and enjoy Sundays out running for 4 hours as compared to being home because it is actually quiet while out running! 

So my run tonight started out normal, I felt great for the first 12-13 miles. I was surprised with myself actually because I felt no pain, my heart rate was on the lower side, and nothing was pinching/riding up/chafing. Well that magic bus ride quickly came to an end around mile 13.5 when I started having the worst farts ever! They were soooo loud, which was really funny to me actually since I was alone and just had to turn around to see if anyone was behind me before I let the explosion come... but then all of a sudden I felt like I had a bad case of herpes climbing down my leg! So for the next 1.5 miles I kept on running through the intense pain of my shorts chafing my thighs! They get hungry sometimes and really like the taste of my spandex for some reason, I just can't seem to break them of this habit no matter how hard I try. Luckily there was a 711 in my sight and I was able to get some Vaseline. I was sitting on the ground in the parking lot of a 711, legs spread eagle, with both hands up my shorts applying Vaseline to my poor bloodied thighs while eating a banana with no hands. I am sure I was a sight that belonged on a cover of Hustler. After applying this magic medicine, eating my banana, and refilling my water bottle I was on my way to finish my last 5 miles. It was amazing... instant relief, well except for my boost booty blowout, I continued to fart my way all the way back to my truck 5 miles away. 

True story. :) 

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Price is Wrong B*tch!

I sold out. I sold out to myself, to my dreams, to who I am. There is no nice way of saying you are a sell out. I am a sell out.

I bought into "The American Dream" of a big house, a big salary, and nice THINGS. This is not who I am and I am having a hard time lately continuing to choke it down. I am not an unhappy individual, in fact I am a very happy individual most of the time. If I knew what I know now though, I would not have chose the same fate. I would not have gone after financial security or comfort. I would have checked my 18 year old ambition and determination at the door, bought a one way ticket to Colorado and became a guide on some outdoor adventure, or Mt. Rainier and became a Mountain guide.

Some people have such a strong work ethic, and some people when asked say they would continue to work if they won the lottery just so they wouldn't get bored. I don't trust those people and I tend to not like them because more than likely they are pretty boring fucking people. There is no chance in a burning house that I would ever work another day in my life if I didn't have to. There are so many things to do in this world and I want to do them all and I can't do them with a full time job, yet I need the full time job to do them. Do you see the conundrum?? Do you see where I am stuck here?

I went white water rafting with a friend on The New River in West Virginia recently. Our guide was a 24 year old woman from Rochester, NY who left Rochester the day after she graduated, moved to Fayette, West Virginia and learned to guide the rivers there from her father who also was a guide. She was very entertaining and kept telling jokes, one was "What is the difference between a cheese pizza and a raft guide? A cheese pizza can feed a family of four." It sort of made me think about things more than laugh about things... I would trade my comfortable life to be guiding a river, or be a bike guide, or on ski patrol and happily eat pork and beans for the rest of my life. I feel that I have gotten myself so far wedged into this "American Dream" though that the idea of escaping it now terrifies me more than jumping out of an airplane or hurdling down a mountain with something waxed binded to my feet... In addition to these fears, I don't even know how to get a job as a guide. Her name was Caitlin and she inspired me to look into making big changes with my life, which is funny because I am sure a lot of people would like to have my life. I have a nice life, I have nice things, I am loved very much, I have a nice job that is actually sort of fun in its own way, but I miss the outdoors. I miss grass between my toes, I miss the mountains, I miss being able to drive 5 minutes to absolute silence and quiet. Everything is so loud here in Baltimore. There is never real quiet and the sight of so much road kill on the sides of the roads tears at my heart strings. These animals are being booted from their home so more sub-divisions can be built and they have no place to go so they end up getting hit by the never-ending traffic here.

Last night I was driving to the grocery store and I saw a furry thing in the road, I thought it was a dead cat. As I drove by, it sort of flopped in the road. I grabbed what I needed very quickly from the store and drove quickly back down my road. I was coming up on it and had my hoodie and a magazine ready to jump out and grab it. I had taken my seat belt off in anticipation to grab it and move it or take it home as quickly as possible so it wouldn't lay dying in the middle of the road. I get up to it, get ready to jump out and upon close examination realize it is someone's fake hair. Some woman lost her damn weave in the middle of the road and I was ready to take it home and save it because I thought it was a hurt animal. Yeah, story of my life.

"My name is Ray-Ray and I am here all day!"

The rafting was pretty weak because there hadn't been much rain, but at least something good came out of it... by good I mean something to make me question all my decisions in life and wish I would have done them differently... a person who had no regrets, now has a major regret.