Forgive me readers, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last writing, and consequently I expect this post to be of disturbingly poor quality. Hopefully you can discern some semblance of thought from underneath the rust. I’ve plopped myself down in the bustling heart of a coffee shop, beverage and pastry disappearing quickly, full of blogging zeal, aaaand already I’ve deleted more words that I’ve written. (Hell, it cost me half a danish of dead ends just to track down the word “semblance”… and even THAT still feels wrong.)
My return to writing mirrors my lifestyle at the moment. Seems I’ve spent the past two years deviating in various ways, sometimes quite drastically, from the simple train/work/sleep life of post-collegiate, athletic hermitude. But now, almost two years since my last post, and my last race, I find myself extremely content to return to the familiar tranquility and simplicity of hermit life, at least for the time being. But first…
The Rogue Years
The past two years have both been filled with more memories, emotions, stress, and discoveries than any social recluse could hope to replicate. Among other things, I had my first good (non-cinematic) cry since college, discovered climbing as a new passion (and future obsession), capitalized on opportunities to grow as a leader, and got a fantastic business off the ground and profitable (often through all-nighters and deadline drama). All in all, I’ve done a lot to explore the extroverted side of my introextrovert personality and EVEN, albeit once in a great while, sacrificed logic and reason for emotion (post-collegiate breakthrough! Booyah!). Socially, I’ve reaffirmed that I truly enjoy aspects of a lot of different lifestyles and friend groups, but that my ideal balance is both micro and macro periods of action and rest.
However my running suffered. In January of both years, I was extremely fit and excited for indoor racing, and yet my training played second fiddle to my other interests. Both years a cold snap hit, and between working 10 hours at my desk, stretching for all of 10 seconds, and then hitting the roads for 10 miles in 10 degree weather, you could have predicted there would be inbound injuries. No shit. Both years my right knee came down with patella-tendinitis, softening of the cartilage, and an inflamed bursa. I put in lackluster retroactive attempts to alleviate and rehab the issue but once I couldn’t run, it was very hard for me to direct time away from social life and the biz for the possibility of a return to health. In the end, it was nothing less than I deserved rolling the dice the way I was, trying to have my cake and eat it too.
The New New
So what’s different about this year? Well, hopefully everything. For one, I’m taking my surprisingly advanced fall fitness and heading out to Wichita, KS this weekend for a cheeky little road mile! This isn’t much more than an attempt to psychologically deviate from the past two years, but I welcome the butterflies and competitive intensity a race brings. Hell, I’m getting a little jittery just writing about it! (Though that could also be the unfamiliar amount of caffeine I just ingested.)
I’m also on my own! Living solo for the first time ever minus the 4 months I spent on Operation Funtimes™ in Santa Cruz, circa 2011. When Sam and Bret moved out 4 weeks ago, destined for greatness in Palo Alto, the unanimous decision was made that the condo would become clothing optional. Effective immediately. Also the new norm, I play my music louder and fall asleep randomly throughout the house. However, I do now cook less without any housemates to keep me company (and less than a little is … twice. A two dish quiche and the pizza of the year to your right). Trebek’s measured Jeopardy cadence is no longer a nightly tradition, and lawn games have not been played since the month of September… The euphoric freedom of the first two weeks was balanced by the loneliness of the next, and yet I now find myself feeling quite steady and content. My return to writing is a product of the fact I can’t just strike a conversation around the dining table at nearly any given hour, but so glad I’m writing.
Meta thought: Having fallen into the a decent flow, this feels much like picking up a novel after consuming purely on-screen media for months at a time (that can’t just be me). It’s a change of pace. A slowing down. Deeper thought…
Buuuut, now I’m losing it. The type/delete cycle in full effect. Damn you meta thoughts!
Wrapping up, I’m pumped to have a race to write-up on Sunday! I’m healthy, fit, and in a FANTASTIC mental place for the training that lies ahead. I have some very concrete goals in mind, culminating, of course in the Olympic Trials in early July. By then, I need to be capable of a 1:46 800m, a 3:52 mile, and have the ability to close that championship race in a 52.
The stage is set. Eight months to go.
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WTF is this?
This is my little space in which to play. I ramble about what it's like to...
· Run a 3:57 Mile | 3:39 1500m.
· Build sweet websites.
· Live in
Santa Cruz, CA
· be convicted of grammar crimes.
If you're intrigued...
This is what to expect.