thereluctantrunner

10

I ran all over.

  • Temple Square was super pretty and covered in tulips. And pollen.
  • I wanted to run up to the Capitol, but The Mormon told me I would love Memory Grove, so I ran there. I found a Meditation Chapel for Beachy. HEY, BEACHY. You should probably come finish your Century Club out here. Day 100 in Memory Grove? Make it a thing.
  • I ran past all of the sun bathers and traipsed along the Freedom Trail, upupup through the canyon. I had to actually climb one part, and I was like, “lolwut?” to the girl wearing flip-flops ahead of me. So silly. Thanks for letting me pass you, though. So polite.
  • The trail ended at the mouth of City Creek Canyon, but I was all, “BEEN THERE, DONE THAT,” and instead ran to the Capitol. Because that’s what I wanted to do anyway. Our state building is majestic, eh? Views from atop that hill ain’t too shabby, either.
  • And then I had to run dOWndOWndOWn a stupid steep hill. And then I found a building with very reflective windows, and I thought to myself, “SELF? What would Reluctant do?” So I did.
  • And then I realized how hangry I was, so I stopped at a bodega (where they were confused by the nearly-translucent gringa waiting in line) and got myself some corn covered in magic and copious chili  and washed it down with a fancy sparkling grapefruit juice from AUSTRALIA. SO fancy.

8.03 miles.
1:43:58.
12:57 pace.

Super slow for me, but considering it’s the most miles I’ve run all at once since moving to Utah and there were HILLS, and it was warm out, and my mileage has been non-existent lately, I will happily take it.

I collapsed to eat my corn half a mile from my house because it hurt too much to walk. Hiiiiiip. Stop that.

My right foot is also being a dick and is continuing to remind me how hard backpacking 25 miles across sand was on my poor, delicate body. Maybe 8 was a bit much? Oops.

Also: running 8 with a backpack. That could be part of the issue. That may or may not have been stupid. Double oops.

Off topic and personal

Thanks to everybody who reached out yesterday in response to my post about things not being so great; Mrs. RRR and I are going through a rough patch. It sucks.

There’s been no big transgression or anything like that. Instead things have gradually been building - or rather gradually been festering. Small resentments on both sides. I find myself shrinking and she resents the burdens. 

Sometimes I feel I’ve lost every ounce of mojo I ever had. I’ve lost touch with who I am - or was, or whatever. I feel empty. I am empty. And how can you expect someone to love or live with that? You cannot.

I have so much work to do it’s terrifying. Should I be fighting to save us or for me? Maybe in fighting for me I save us. Does that make sense?

I believe it’s worth fighting for us and I believe it’s possible. It’s going to be hard and uncomfortable. But there’s still love and laughter in this house and between the two of us and so there’s hope.

On a somewhat related note, I’ll be offline for the rest of my vacation. 

Thanks for reading. Hugs.

youtube

A video for @thereluctantrunner. Sorry it’s a few days/week late - I couldn’t figure out how to upload the video.

Also for @thoroughlymilly

Also, this is my first video post - be kind.

How quickly our world can change

Tonight on my way home tonight I started scrolling through Tumblr on my phone. I hadn’t refreshed it so I was looking at posts from this morning, which I didn’t realize because I was half paying attention to a conversation further down the bus, and because I was thinking about the awful events of the day.

Until I got to a post … 

“Good Luck Boston Marathoners! …”

It was one of many such posts. I had been kicking myself this morning for starting work without posting something similar to cheer on some awesome tumblrs who were running today.

Doesn’t this morning seem so very far far away?

I’m so happy to see the posts from y'all up north in and around Boston saying you’re OK. I felt sick to my stomach today fearing the worst but praying for good news. So reading posts from each of you was a small but cherished point of light in an otherwise dark afternoon. 

Tonight I’ll pray for those affected, those killed or wounded, and their families. Tomorrow I’ll run my miles for Boston.

Good night Tumblrs. Take care of yourselves. You are much loved.

For JoseThompson - The post(s) that started the whole "smits" thing

A timeline or smit-list, if you will:

  • July 2, 2011 - Bad, bad run. The schedule called for 12. I made it 8 before having to find some facilities. I learned from this that I can’t do a huge pasta dinner the night before a run. It’s just bad news.
  • August 11, 2011 - Made an honest inquiry to my fellow fitblrs, seeking advice people I assumed would offer it generously. Little did I know, this was the downfall.
  • August 15, 2011 - Experimented successfully with Immodium prior to my first 18-mile run. Also, Tums. This has been a winning combination ever since.

At some point, I think Reluctant coined the term. I don’t remember when or how. 

I’ve learned to embrace it. I mean, come on. The name is just an easy jump. And I would bet that a large majority of those training for marathon or whatever have felt the same.. um.. urgency. I’ve just become the poster boy.

File this under: Things I would have never imagined blogging about.

4

Well, this is quite the overwhelming response to my coffee date post. 

You ladies really want to suffer with me? You’ve been warned. Here goes nothing…

So first, he brought me to the bro-iest of bro bars (and I’ve been trying to avoid this crowd since moving here - part of reason I was happy to leave Boston) but, sure, it was around the corner from my office. 

OH! But the *actual* first part. He was waiting for me to leave my office, so he texted, ‘just found some of my buddies at the bar next door, so no rush! I’ll leave when you get close.’ GOOD, because I didn’t want you to be lonely there for a second.

The rooftop was closed, so we sat downstairs where we could hear zero words each of us said. So, I repeated everything I said, on average, three times. 

He asked the bartender what the Pumpkin beer tasted like.

When he was yelling-talking to me, he managed to spit on me three times. THREE! Three. And, while he was talking, he was so twitchy and bouncy that I wanted to reach over and hold his shoulders down so he wouldn’t fall out of the seat.

His mannerisms oddly (and so clearly) resembled those of the lion from Wizard of Oz. His eyes would open really wide, he would drop his head back, and his head would shake a little bit. Can’t make this shit up, yo.

When I said something that he agreed with, he would aggressively shake his finger towards my face and say, 'YES! OMG YES!’ a million times.

He would ask me a question, I would get two words in and then he would cut me off, because whatever I said prompted some story he wanted to tell me about some place/person/thing that had no relevance to me.

There were four occasions where he would back-hand slap my arm when he was telling me something. I’M ANEMIC, BRO.

My body language could not have been more closed off, so he continued to move closer so he was basically sitting on top of me. 

Then I said I needed to meet my friend to watch the game, so he said he would walk with me. He just needed to “take a quick piss”. 

To round out this wonderful date, the hug had a bit of an ass-graze to it. It was 42 seconds too long, and then his hand swiped right, like he was Tindering my behind.

I think I’m taking a hiatus from dating. This was the icing on the cake.

2

Late night run (got back just before 11 PM) so sweatypic as promised/threatened:

  • Heat Index: 77F
  • Dew point: 74F
  • Humidity: 90%
  • 3 miles in almost exactly 30 minutes. 

It was actually quite nice out - that 7 degree drop in temperature was worth waiting for.

NSV - I finally fit into this running shirt. Well I always fit into it, but I used to completely stuff it and now I’m comfortable with the way I look in it.

So running with form fitting running shirt and compression shorts - Booyahhhhh!

[edit] thereluctantrunner replied to your photosetLate night run (got back just before 11 PM) so…

What man calls it a “top"? :)

OK made it running shirt not top. Thanks RR, I dunno what I was thinking - life surrounded by women I guess :P

5:30 AM Wake-up Call on Monday Morning

After a long weekend. The gym waits for no one and accepts no excuses.

An hour of upper body weight stuff and some cardio. (Stair machine, FTW, Jonathan).

Breakfast: Egg whites and ham on whole wheat with spinach (and some banana peppers for an extra kick). Weird? Probably. Not a Reluctant-style smoothie weird, but it’ll do.

181.4 on the scale this morning which is totally unexplainable after eating all the things this weekend. Mark it down: 175 by December 1. And I’m saying that even with the realization that Thanksgiving is less than 2 weeks away.

Have a great Monday, friends.

These ladies get it. In a letter that I received from a friend yesterday, she asked me what my 3 favorite things about Australia are?

1. Being able to be with Brent [gushy, but true]
2. The laid back nature of Aussies/Aussie culture [plus the drinking culture is also super fun]
3. THE MONEY. Minimum wage is DOUBLE what I was paid in Washington State *and* I get paid time and a half on Saturday, double time on Sunday and double time for public holidays. 

So I *really* shouldn’t complain… but y'all know me. I’m whiny as fuck.

4.5 / 45 hours complete

Someone seems not-so-Reluctant about spreading holiday cheer

Funny. I don’t think non-crafty people who dislike Christmas card sending use scissors with fancy edges on their cards, adorn envelopes with stickers, or use holiday-themed postage. I’m skeptical of your statement.

And therein lies the rub...

 

Truthfully, I’m not sure what I want to happen in 2013. I’m not sure what I want to happen beyond 2013. I just want it to be better than 2012.

There are times that I feel rather shallow. Like I’m drifting along… going through the motions of life. I am of no benefit to myself or anyone else when that happens.

So how do you define your dreams when you’ve never given them much consideration? How do you write a life story when you’ve got a debilitating case of writer’s block? I ask that, not rhetorically.

A good friend (yeah, I said it.. sue me) reminded me last night that I should be more optimistic and I’ll get there.

…for 2013 plaster a giant fucking smile on your face and be shit eating grin happy! Be so friggin’ happy you’ll be tooting “zip a dee do da” out your ass… And why the fuck not?

My oh my…