Crying Across the Finish Line

About six weeks into my journey I had a conversation with Will, I said "Hey, do you want to run a 5k with me on January 1st?" Will agreed. I had him. Hook.Line.Sinker. It was after he agreed that he realized January 1st was in fact New Year's Day, 2015, and in fact we live in the Chicagoland Area and that could mean a blizzard. He had agreed, he couldn't go back.

Will and I diligently went on Tuesday nights at 6pm and joined our local Run Club for 5k training. The first day we ran for 2 minutes, walked for 2 minutes. The following week we ran for 3 minutes, walked for 1 minute. The next week we ran for 7 minutes, walked for 1 minute. By the fourth week I ran over one mile straight without stopping. Now this progress was not without practice on my own part, but the accomplishment of having realized I had just run that far was a bit overwhelming. 

I Let Anger Control Me

In the second and final interview for my current work position the question of "What is your biggest fault or flaw?" was posed. Without hesitation, and without my filter working, I replied "I'm a non-sympathetic person." It's true, I am not sympathetic. The emotion of anger has long replaced the emotion of sympathy in my life. It sounds harsh, and it is, but when I say I'm non-sympathetic, it takes a lot for me to even consider sympathy.

I had a great day planned, my afternoon class was cancelled and I took the day off from my part-time job at the campus library to shoot rolls of film. It was a quintessential fall day in Carbondale, Illinois. I had gotten up, run 2.2 miles, came back to my dorm and prepared for my day. I put on typical college student wardrobe with jeans, gym shoes, a long sleeved thermal shirt, a T-shirt over, and threw on a zip up hoodie. I had my Lucky Charms for breakfast in the dining hall and headed out to my 9am class.

I never made it to class.

Hearing What You Already Knew

It's one thing to know something. It's another thing to hear what you already knew. And it's a real kick in the ass when you hear what you already knew and the total stranger telling you is right.

In my life I can't think of a time where I've been consistently active, consistently ate right, or didn't change jean sizes multiple times in one year, fluctuating from a 4 to a 10 with very little conscientious understanding of what had happened, but blaming the way they were made. I mean, seriously, they sewed the wrong tag size in, that happens, right?