Why

I figured out last night on the way home from the gym what my deal is with the running. Some of it, at least.

Some of it is the idea of pushing myself physically. Part of me has always wanted to be an 'athlete', or is fascinated by those who are. [I've always dated/was infatuated with jocks and athletes.] I never thought I had it in me, and I've never really known my limits. I didn't think I had the drive. As an equestrian, I could get on a horse and know 'I can do this and other people can't'. I haven't been on a horse in almost two years. Now I know when I get up in the morning that I CAN run a mile and a half - I can count on my body to do it. Every day. A year ago, I couldn't count on my body to get me across the street. I was sickly; I felt and looked it. I feel good when I leave the gym. I'm starting to realize that it's not just vanity that drives people to work out, run and lift weights... it's more internal. I also feel more in tune with my body... as if working every muscle reminds me that they're all there, and what they're up to. If something's wrong, I know it right away, versus just the general ache/hum of things in working order.

The other part of the equation is warped... but I think it's about being the complete opposite of what I was when I was with John. While we were together, the relationship was the single most important thing in my life. His happiness (or lack thereof) was The Big Deal. Everything else took a backseat. Now I fill my time with lots of vitally important factors - friends, family, work, my cat, volunteering, writing, music, exercise ... there's a noticeable lack of romantic relationships, but I've strengthened everything else. I worry less about the happiness of others (though definitely not completely forgotten) and more about my own. My lifestyle was also unhealthy - together we ate crappy food (and too much of it), didn't exercise, smoked, drank, sat on our butts. Going for a bike ride or hike was something we would do maybe tomorrow - when we weren't so tired. I've cut almost all of that out. Every time I get on the treadmill (no matter how tired) and start to run, it reminds me of how far I've come from what I was 7 months ago. I'm proud of what I've rebuilt from the pieces of me that were left after the crash, and I think the new me is stronger, better, prettier, smarter, harder, healthier. It's the new version - Becky 7.0. As I run and watch my reflection in the glass as the sun sets, it's a reminder.

Flight or... Flight

I ran almost 2 miles yesterday. It surprised me, because I felt like crap even before I got on the treadmill... but I just kept running and running and running.... very strange. It seems to be that I run my best when I feel the worst. Of course, the news was on. That helps, because I get all fired up and angry, so I keep going, like a derranged Energizer Bunny. Sometimes I wonder if I'm running as a catharsis... or if I'm running away from something. The thought that I might be running from something makes me feel kind of uncomfortable. That, in turn, makes me run harder...

QOTD

I recently signed up for a Quote-of-the-Day. [I was having a whimsical, inspirations moment. It's over, and now I'm stuck with these annoying emails every day. The quotes aren't terrible, however.]


Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can
only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust
that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have
to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma,
whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has
made all the difference in my life.

--Steven Jobs, Founder of Apple Computer

Five Stars

While watching Next Food Network Star, I've decided that the next guy I sleep with needs to be a chef. The last one was just a fat pothead who liked to eat and THOUGHT he could cook [with WAY too much 'Ol' Bay']. I'm talking pretty plates, drizzly sauces, and some kind of kickass dish involving flaky crusty dough and utensils I've never seen. Sprigs of parsely, while cliche, are welcome. Pastry chefs will be encouraged to apply, and will be immediately bumped to the top of the list.

The good news is, they just voted off the most attractive contestant. Food Network shoots in NYC, right?

More Timecapsules

A year ago today, I was lying in a hospital bed. After I post this, I will be lying in my own bed... taking a nap.

All this reminiscing is making me nostalgic. Part of me misses the Ex. Why do I still remember a phone number I haven't dialed in over 7 months?

Cleanliness Is A Virtue

Is it overly strange that I'd prefer to drink from the cup of water I pour for my cat every morning that the one my brother uses? His is much dirtier....

Diary

...
If i get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me
threatening the life it belongs to.
And I feel like I'm naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary screaming out loud
And I know that you'll use them however you want to...

A Time Capsule

June 20, 2004: [a quick recap] I was the only sober person at a Phish show.

The day before, my oldest friend's soon-to-be brother-in-law died tragically... on the morning of her wedding shower. I had found out just a day prior to the shower that I would have to have emergency surgery the following week... yet I couldn't let my boyfriend down and NOT go to the show. Because that's the kind of girlfriend [doormat] I was. So there I was, surrounded by Phish heads drinking, smoking, and doing various drugs...while I sat in a lawn chair eating an apple. Because I was too damn sick (physically and heartsick for Michelle as well) to do anything else. That night when we got home from the show [which was endless], The Ex asked me if I was scared about my surgery. Was I scared? The girl who'd never even had her wisdom teeth removed was going under general anesthetic and staying overnight in the hospital and they were going to cut her open and shove a tube down her throat and one in her arm and TAKE OUT AN ORGAN. What did he think? That was followed by his passive-aggresive version of "Where Is Our Relationship Going?, Part 2". Oh-so appropriate time for THAT, don't you think? He didn't visit me in the hospital. [Strangely enough, we didn't break up for another 6 months].

June 20, 2005: [fast forward] Phish is no longer a band. Too bad for the drugged-out Phish heads.

Michelle and Joe have been married for almost a year... she is 5 months pregnant, and the baby will be named in memory of Frank. It will soon be time for another shower. I spent my day at work, keeping in touch with old friends and having lunch with new ones. I have lost 15lbs since last year. After work, I ran a mile and a quarter on the treadmill. A year ago, I couldn't walk 10 feet. I'm single, but at least I won't be spending my evening with a hoard of people that I can't relate to, wondering why I'm trying so hard... and still feeling like an outsider.

It's funny how you can look back and see so clearly that your life a year ago was like that pair of pants you always have to suck your stomach in to get into... but never really look right... when the life you have now is like those jeans you have in the back of the closet - you always forget how perfect they fit until you put them on. I'm sure, however it's a beautiful night at SPAC this evening... just like it was on June 20, 2004.

Run, Forrest

I've got lots of good blog ideas running through my head, but as always, when I sit down to write... I've got nothing interesting to say.

Weird day at the office today. I think I'm in a funk. I've been so tired lately... maybe it's because of the running. I started running last week. Yes, Ms. "I don't run unless I'm being chased" began running... basically because Casey proposed it to me in a way that didn't seem completely reprehensible (don't ask me how she did THAT). She also knows me so well that she managed to squeeze a promise that I'd run a 5K with her in July - which of course, is now the reason I won't back out. Damn Casey for knowing me so well! Anyway, so now here I am, a running fool. Someone at work told me that it takes 3 weeks for your body to 'form a habit' or, translated into a way I'll understand, will be energized instead of exhausted from it. So I've go another solid 2 weeks of complete exhaustion before I'll start feeling the benefits of the running. In other words... right before the race. Which I'll run, and then promptly never run again, knowing me. I'm so darned fickle.

It's 4:40pm and I'm stuck at my Office Space desk until 6pm. Heard any good jokes lately?

Untitled

"Is there world enough for me?"

~ Jane Frances

PotShots

Your Clever Little Blog Could Get You Fired

I should probably watch it, huh?

Fatherly Advice

My Dad is a great guy. Because we're so much alike, a lot of times we don't get along, or we butt heads. Nevertheless, I've always respected him, and strived to be like him. I hope that one day I can look back on my life and see that it's as accomplished as his. That I've done as much good as he has.

In honor of Father's Day [which is really a Hallmark holiday, I am aware] I am going to post the email that my father just sent me:


I was reflecting on our career discussions of the last few days. Discussions which I always enjoy, by the way. And thinking about my conversations with my father. Obviously, I didn't talk as much with him as we do. I only really remember vividly 2 pieces of advice:

1. If it were fun, they wouldn't call it work.
2. Be nice to the people on your way up, you will see the same people on the way down.

The first was kind of depressing so I have tried not to acknowledge it - but I have found the second piece of advice useful.

Have a nice day.

Love,
Dad


I love you too, Dad

Everyone Loves a Lynching

Kate wrote a "cheer" for me. I think it's supposed to be inspirational, and to remind me to be more assertive and to help "lynch doormat Becky" (I'm paraphrasing a little bit here).

Here is my cheer:


Who's my friend that's such a bitch?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's my friend with real big tits?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's that girl with self-esteem?
That's Becky, that's Becky!!
Who's that girl that god-damn mean?
That's Becky, That's Becky!!

Hmmm... ...

I'm no Letterman

Alisande has a "Top 10 Reasons Why We Shouldn't Drink Anymore" list, apparently. I would like to see that list, so that I can systematically go through and refute every single one of the reasons. As Casey put it, "life just keeps giving you more reasons..."

Help Me Wanda

Work is so god-awful today that I would rather have a root canal without novicaine than be sitting here. I feel like I need to start either banging my head against my desk or run around naked and screaming at the top of my lungs, just to shake things up a little bit. Seriously, someone PLEASE put me out of my misery or stick a pen in my eye or SOMETHING! I'm beggign you! If you love me, put me down like a dog or flush me like a goldfish.

Just Like The Movies

"Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. But rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along. "

Pretty, right?

***

Someone else said once, "There's beauty in the breakdown." Which, theoretically might be true, but if my cat could talk, I don't think she would have anything poetic to say about what she witnessed last night.


It's funny how in the movies, when people hit rock-bottom there's that moment of despair - the main character is on the floor in her bathroom, stringy hair in her face, bawling with circles under her eyes, drunk or ODing and soaking wet. After that, she starts to get better, and through a movie montage, we see her progress. In the real world, that girl ends up on the floor in her bathroom at least 10 times. Over and over again, like a freaking addict, ripping her own life apart...

No wonder movies are much easier to watch than real life.