Why Am I, Oh Why Am I The One Who Plans?

When I was younger, I always thought that if I were just one step ahead of everything and everyone, that nothing bad would ever happen. And to be honest, my system worked out for a while, but as I grew older, it became overly meticulous to try to plan everything and know everything beforehand. Even now, in my third year of high school, my friends still deride my need to know everything and my need to be prepared for what is going to happen next. I keep all my homework and important days on my ical, take weekly snapshots of my ical and upload them onto the server, and make sure to take perfect care of my laptop so as to not have to get it re-imaged. I wish I could be one of those people that just came home after school and did their homework when they pleased, or not at all, but I cannot abrogate my ways. This is how I’ve been programmed. Sometimes, when I get home at 7 from debate or track or whatever, I’m sometimes in a capricious mood and leave things off until the next day, but that attitude lasts an ephemeral time, sorry. I just don’t know how you can be so unorganized, I truly sympathize with people who use the “I forgot!” excuse because that’s never me. You might think this blog is lame, but I needed to show you how absolutely anal I am with these things, this isn’t a ruse, this is me. But then again, I like it. I like being organized and knowing exactly what I have to do and when. I don’t like surprises so my way of life works out great. You don’t like it, don’t hector me; just go back to forgetting your homework and eating chips in front of your TV while I slave away at my desk and actually get things accomplished.

“Organize your life around your drams- and watch them come true.”

Those Dreaded Winter Track Meets.

Running. Doing Homework. Drinking oh so much water. Warming up. Cooling Down. Going to the Bathroom. Listening to music. And so many other disheveled activities going on at the same time. Waiting for a race is the most stressful activity you will ever endure. Amongst all the hustle and bustle you can only worry about number 1. You push. You shove. You have no empathy for anyone else. You get to your destination. And you do anything you have to, to get there. There are no ands ifs or buts. You’re all there is, and you’re the only thing you can manage to worry about. Even though all this is going on, you forget about it all, you listen to nothing, you hear nothing, and you hear no one. You block everything out and focus. During your race you’re at peace, and you don’t have anything on your mind but beating the person in front of you. You have to catch him, you must. It’s the only thing you can do correctly right now. That is your destination. At the crux of your race, you reach him and you know that in only a short amount of time, you will be wearing that glinting gold medal across your chest, flaunting your victory. Only a few more steps to go. Even though your gasping for air, your whole lower body wants to fall off, and your head is spinning with a thousand questions, but you know you’re done, redress. You can now take a soothing cool down lap and drain your legs against the cool wall. Lie back, lift your legs, and let the wall support you. Look into the ethereal light hanging above you and know that everything will be ok. Feel the medal pressing into your skin, and know you did it. Close your eyes and replay the race, you notice you don’t remember it and you open your eyes and come back to the light. Usually they tell you not to look into the light, but this light is soothing, this light is warming, this light is home, succumb to it.

"Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or gazelle - when the sun comes up, you'd better be running."

Where are you Christmas?

Alright so even though Christmas is two days away, those 48 hours feel like a lifetime. For the first time EVER, my entire family has planned to have the annual Christmas party at, where else than, my house. I will be housing, at minimum, thirty people! I’m sorry to say, even though I love them all dearly, I do not want all these people in my house. I have expressed my displeasure with this to my mother but instead, she has turned me into a sycophant, and now, not only am I not allowed to complain, but I must aid her in the preparations. My father and I have to reorganize the entire house, yes the entire house. There is a certain hierarchy, which prevails in my family; the elders have to sit on the couches, younger adults on the dining room seats, and children and teens on the folding chairs. This system cannot be replaced or changed, even though it is unbeknownst to be or my father, where we are going to fit all these seats. Transpiring at the same time, my mother must redecorate and incorporate a Christmas touch. My dad warned her that she must choose very expensive and very fashionable pieces, or else my salient aunt and uncle interior designers will recognize the tawdry pieces, and excoriate my mother. Finally, we have all been given jobs when the fateful day arrives; I am to open the door and beguile my guests and entertain them with my garrulous nature. As much as I love the holiday, I would have much rather left it up to my grandmother to host, because she has become a pro after all the years. Unfortunately, I think we have lost the real meaning of Christmas, and have replaced it with just another showy party. Too bad…

“There’s more, much more, to Christmas Than candlelight and cheer; It’s the spirit of sweet friendship that brightens all year. It’s thoughtfulness and kindness, it’s hope reborn again. For peace, for understanding, and for goodwill to men!”

Holding It In.

At the peer leader module, the legendary Robert Pruitt came to speak to all the new leaders, about their own feelings; because how can someone even imagine leading others, when they cannot conquer themselves? No matter what qualms or thoughts we had going into the program, we could not imagined what was in store for us The tears were flowing, and it wasn’t because anything the speaker was saying, but because of the battles we were all fighting inside ourselves. This process showed everyone, that even those who are looked at as being Olympian, really only felt like pariahs, who had no meaning in the world. Everyone in that room, all seventy-five of us, was faced with an inordinate problem, which only we knew, and only we could fix. Though no one person in that small room could say they knew everyone, we all left there feeling as though we connected with each person, at least for a single minutia of a moment.

Pruitt used no crescendo, no bombast, and no persuasion or guilt; he simply showed us that what we were going through, seventy-four others (in the room) felt the same way. He exhorted us to fix the problems within ourselves, and taught us how to start. I think everyone who attended the workshop, left not only feeling relieved, but anew. Many people left there as a whole new person, and even those who did not drastically change their lives, felt as though a piece of their inner torment was somehow relieved. Robert Pruitt is truly someone to emulate because he is a living example of someone who has taken all the good and all the bad in his life, and tried to use it to his own advantage, and to the advantage of others. He showed us that a smile can really change a person’s life, and that every action we take, affects someone else. Pruitt imbued us to be careful of what we say, be careful at how we say it, and just to strive to make the world a better place.

A great man once said, “Before you can inspire with emotion, you must be swamped with it yourself. Before you can move their tears, your own must flow. To convince them, you must yourself believe” (Winston Churchill).

DayDreaming.

A daydream is a visionary fantasy experienced while awake, especially one of happy, pleasant thoughts, hopes or ambitions.

I am a daydreamer. You can definitely catch me staring off into the endless abyss of my mind, at any time of the day. I run away. I escape my stress, my fears, my worries, my inhibitions, everything. I am a refugee. Even though I am one of the most gregarious people you’ll know, I still need my own time; time for myself. I’ve had enough. When I day dream, I walk into a capacious room, where no one, and nothing, can follow me. I am halcyon. My mind leaves my body, just for a few moments, and finds peace. When I have to return to my body, and have to face whatever it was I was trying to escape, my body has to commandeer my mind, and force it to come back. As simple as it may seem, it saves me, it completes me, and it helps me survive. This maudlin part of my day makes, whatever it is, seem that much better, just because I am able to run away, to my own world, where I can be at peace, and most importantly be happy. I am a daydreamer.

I Run All Year Round.

Those five words don’t properly represent the tireless hours spent practicing, those weekends spent at endless meets, and those endless nights spent doing my homework, because of the dreadful practices. The worst feeling in my never-ending world occurs while running in a meet. This could be hard for you to assimilate to, but this is my life. We start out on a long line, all seventy-five of us lined up; staring each other down, and meticulously analyzing who will beat you, and who is too weak to pass you. This happens every time, and then you hear that sound, the one we all hate. The ref. shoots the gun, and the aberration begins. Going down hills, through sand, back up hills, through forests, around lakes, and all over again. You may tell me to quit, but it’s enigmatic for you. Those two laps, through the labyrinth that threatens to consume you with every step; we put everything into them. Passing people who cheer for you gives you a short boost, but it’s not enough to inspire you to finish, and finish well. By the end we feel as though our bodies are going to fold over on themselves, and our legs threaten to give out from under us. Looking at the parents, watching their kids, with the excited and contempt demeanors, I just wish I could be them; standing on the sideline only cheering, and never understanding. We put our blood, our sweat, and our hearts into each race, and by the end, there is nothing left. Even though we all complain, we all get hurt, and we all detest the meets; we still show up everyday to every practice and every meet. It has consumed us, and we can’t escape. Running.