Running/Returning

I’m sorry for how things have turned out between us. My #1 hope today, which was a shitty day at work, followed by a mediocre evening at home, is that one day our paths will cross again so I can say all the things I’ve been wanting to say since March of last year in person. 

Marablog, you have probably forgotten, but here is friendly reminder that you used to, in fact, be a running blog. A poor excuse for one, but a running blog nonetheless. You will be happy to note that your name still rings true, as I will once again dedicate some of your precious space to, gasp, running!

You see, registration for the Chicago Marathon opens on Feb. 1^st, and I have every intention of running. I know, I know, I’ve said this before. I’ve registered for a marathon and didn’t train right, got injured, and could only run 15 miles. Well, this time I will do it right. I will do it right in the way I did my first half marathon right. I know how to train. I know what to eat. I know what kind of mental preparation it will require. I also realize how much of a time commitment it is to train for a 26.2 jaunt along the water, and how my feet will hurt, and my thighs will scream, and how I will want to eat everything put in front of me, and how Friday nights will be a bit more limited due to Saturday long runs. I am ready.

So here we go. Updates to come.

It’s cold here in Minnesota. Frigid, in fact. Wind chills are in the double digits below zero. I’ll leave that there.

It’s another morning at my job. I talk to people all day; I listen to their problems, try to solve them, and ultimately try to make them smile even though it’s really all about a business transaction.

All these stressful interactions sometimes leave me feeling deflated at the end of the day. I have the best intentions right now, for my non-work day; After work, I will go to gym, practice, clean the kitchen…the list goes on and varies from day to day, but the moral of the story is that I usually only work out on the weekends now, which does shit for my confidence and running goals (have to run a 45 min. 10k in May), and my evenings are usually spent doing some sort of escapist activity (i.e., watching Netflix with the boy and drinking bloody mary’s…nothing too severe, but probably gateways to…something) rather than doing things that do a body good. I practice a good amount these days, and am finally finding a musical niche around here, however, my personal success on the flute is shaded by current job and the way I spend my M-F. Goals have been set, and there are auditions and recitals in the future, all I need to do is simply NOT get caught up in the bogging down of my day-to-day.

Breathing helps too.

So some things need to change, and this isn’t going to be a post about lofty goals and unreasonable guidelines for my future self. I’m purely venting.

In another completely different train of thought…

I’ve had white dresses and black tuxes on my mind lately. I think that time may be approaching…

dearoldlove:

Nobody deserves this much space in my head. But I give it to you anyway. 

“All we can do is keep breathing,” says one of my favorite song birds in one of her melancholy tunes.

If only it were that simple, Ingrid. If that’s all it were, if all I needed to do was breath in and out, perhaps even in combination with a multitude of other primitive functions, like bringing home the proverbial bacon, sleeping, and engaging in sexual activity, I would be A-Okay. I am functioning in the basic human sense.

However, my intrinsic happiness, sense of self-worth, and ultimately my level of productivity and how that is contributing to the human race, is something that is rapidly dwindling, and really almost nil. I could chalk up my unhappiness to the economy; “I have six digits of student loan debt and couldn’t find a well-paying job in my field, and am now stuck in mediocre job making not enough money while my six digits of debt becomes delinquent.” I could make excuses for my recent laziness and downhill road to thunder thighs on the horribly frigid weather and stressful job. I could just keep on keeping on, and do just OKAY…I could stay stagnant and live a decent life and continually wonder what would have happened if the near 27-year-old me had made some changes and not given up the dream, rather than keeping on the proverbial “on.”

So this is it. It is not rock bottom. It is not even the ledge on the pedestal that is 1,000 feet above the rocky bottom. It is merely a plateau, a flat-line in my life that needs 40cc’s of *something* stat.

So, then, what do I need to do? I don’t know. I need music. I need to play music, and right now, that part of my life is nearly non-existent. There’s more school, or there’s auditions (the latter is tricky when working full time in a job that is stressful). First, I have to get back in shape, on the flute, then physically. Then, I need to make myself present in the community. I have a snapshot of my best self, and I know what I need to do to get there. That’s first. Everything else should fall into place after that. Should.

After that, there is family. There is perhaps starting my own family, but more importantly, making a better effort to keep in touch and see my existent fam, and perhaps even move home. That is a goal. Friends follow. I have very few friends. I have been a relationship person for so long, and I have relocated so much, that I have lost most of my closest friends. Joe and I need to make and maintain relationships with people.

Then, there is accomplishment. When I feel happy with myself, when I feel connected with the people I love and care about, then accomplishment is the piece of the puzzle that emerges from underneath the couch that you never knew you were missing.

That’s the goal; the piece of the puzzle with the dog drool and dust bunnies stuck to it.

I hate the pessimistic preface I just set. Regardless, that is just the type of mood that I am in. It is indeed a Wednesday, a day that really has no implications attached to it aside from it’s annoying speed-bump status. Today it rained. Which might not seem unusual to many, however, here in the lovely Minneapolis, it is only the third rainy day I’ve seen since arriving in town 5 or so weeks ago. 

I was glad to see the rain. The endless blue skies almost started to seem a bit trite. The workday overall went very well. Without giving out too much boring and personal information about what I do (no, I do not work for the CIA; that, however, is another failed pipe dream of mine), I felt confident, productive, and actually had a good amount of fun today. Until the end of the day. Essentially, myself and a few others who are still in training were evaluated for the first time on our performance. Essentially, I was deemed to be slightly behind. My SAT score would’ve been maybe a 950, at best. Although intended to be helpful, this tidbit of information more or less ruined my until then, good day. 

I try very hard in what I do. As a flutist, I was always somewhat of a perfectionist. If I couldn’t be the best at that, I tried and tried until I WAS the best. And when my best was not ultimately good enough, I gave up the dream (of an orchestral job). I guess today’s events sent my mind spinning back to that. The same wheels were turning. If I can’t be awesome at this (granted, I am still in training), then fuck it. Why care? Just be satisfied with having a job, and move on. But I cannot do that. I have too much respect and enjoy my company too much. I will improve (already have), and I will be respected for what I do. Furthermore, I will enjoy it.

The moral of the story is that what I really miss, what I really really miss, is music. Is sitting in the chamber orchestra or woodwind quintet, or weird ass contemporary thing. That’s where I shine the most. So, on days like today when I’m not good enough where I am and feel like another number or hire, that’s where I go. I network, I send emails to flute choirs, I practice. Because that dream refuses to die, and I cannot let it. It is en grained in my being, and it’s my decision to go out and keep trying.