I never thought I would be a "runner" or a "recreational jogger" or whatever label I fit under. In high school, I remember sitting behind a cross country runner in my world history class. I consider myself a pretty good student, but history quite honestly has always been hard for me to get into, and especially so at the time because it was being taught from an outdated textbook, with slight references to the art and music of the times (my forte). So I spent most of class observing the habits of others around me. This girl in front of me seemed to have it really together. I knew she was a cross-country runner and she was very meticulous in everything she did. She always carried a water bottle (before it was cool to do so) and managed to secretly, eat the power bar, hidden in her hoodie pocket, one crumb at a time, like a bird. Her running shoes were a brand I did not recognize at the time and, I noticed, they grew increasingly dirty day by day. This all seemed very foreign but strangely appealing. Why were a million questions floating through my mind? I had to talk to her to find out why she punished herself by eating those bland, tasteless bars, and why she pushed herself to run at a pace and a distance out of her comfort zone. I couldn't fathom running anymore than necessary for any reason other than to participate in a team sport.
And then came a day that I was not tardy to history class and I actually had some time to converse with this intriguing individual. I wanted to know why she did what she did and how she did it. But, most importantly, I wanted to know how I could do it too. She explained that running was something she did for fun, believe it or not, and that she used to be just like me a few years before. She explained how she started by running a mile, and then, someday that wasn't enough and she ran two. Before she knew it, she wasn't satisfied unless she was running at least five miles a day. That night, I bought my first pair of Asics (those weird looking shoes I saw tied to her gym bag), and I never looked back. I started from square zero, copying every detail that I could remember from our conversation. There's more to it than you think! It was hard, but within a few months, I could run continuously for thirty minutes--a feat that, shortly before, I had never even considered.
What sparked this sudden change in lifestyle? I'm not sure to be exact. I think I wanted a complete make-over. Physically, I was tall and awkwardly lanky, constantly being misdiagnosed as being sick, due to, in part, my pale completion. Once, my friend's mom even called me homely. Lovely. Emotionally, I was dealing with too much at once. In a nutshell, I was subconsciously trying to be the perfect child in a not-so-perfect family, just to appease everyone. When in reality, I was just a typical, egotistical teenage mess, just trying to fit in so that I wouldn't be labeled "different". Honestly, I didn't like the person I was. My dad had just comitted suicide, and in a small town, that makes you a target for sympathetic looks and whispers behind your back. Everyone wants to say how sorry they are because they don't know what else to say, but that's where it ends. They keep their distance because they don't know what else to do. I was alone. No one to relate to.
I felt like I didn't belong, but I didn't want to belong anymore. I wanted to be me whether anyone liked it or not. I was going to turn my life around, no matter how hard I had to work for it. In fact, in my mind, the more sweat and blood, the better. I guess I didn't really know how to deal with everything happening in my life, so I just ran--not away from it, but as an alternative to anti-depressants. I was treating the cause of the symptoms, rather than the symptoms themselves. Something, I think, should be prescribed more often.
Quick, jump to this weekend. The reason why I even thought of any of this stuff at all. After saving up for about two years, I was able to buy my first surfboard. Not just any board. A brand new stand-up paddle board that I had my eyes on for almost as long. Before that, a few years earlier, I was turned on to road biking and swimming for cross-training purposes during countless injuries running competitively. Oh, and let's not forget downhill skiing even though it's seasonal (and telemarking, thanks to Chance). A year at MSU in Bozeman was an obvious choice for me. I guess you could say, I have broadened my "zen" moments to include other recreations. Contradictory to the minimalist approach, I know, but these are material possessions I refuse to compromise. These "things" keep me sane.
I have also been practicing a secret "therapy" that I am going to divulge now. I keep a journal. Mostly for sketching when I feel creative, but sometimes I creatively write. But, I tend to write only when I am angry. I end up regurgitating the words from my mouth to my paper, only to immediately dispose of evidence shortly thereafter. Since I am now shifting my train of thought from negative viewpoint to positive one, I have decided to share my thoughts and feelings publicly, to a select few friends and family, whom I trust. I strive to keep things humorous and lighthearted. I am not an opinionated person. Quite contrarily I like to keep an open mind. In fact, I tend to shut down if the conversation gets too biased in one direction. I apologize beforehand if anything I ever write offends anyone. It's non-intentional if that is the case.
Why blog? Simply stated: it's my therapy. And also, someone mentioned casually that they would read my blog if I had a blog. I had to do some research on this blog business because I didn't really even fully understand what a blog was. I'm not technically-challenged; I like to think of myself as technically ignorant, but for good reason. So vwah-lah! Here it is. Post all the comments you want or none at all!
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