When you’ve been sleeping for 4 hours (maybe) and then you get up at 4AM and then the coach calls you out twice and then sorta punches a few more things your way during training. And then your absolutely stellar (no really, no sarcasm) boyfriend says something, but maybe in your head it sounded sarcastic and then well, you were last in running. And then you get in the car to go to your first day at a new job and realize you left the work clothes at your house and you can’t get dressed as quickly and have to back track to get where you ‘re going.
You play the girl card and cry.
And then you get hugged and told that you’re doing a good job and I should have known that already. Which makes you feel amazing. And that you’re gonna have a great day. (Which you will, and as aforementioned, you don’t need to hope on that.)
This whole “it’s not a competition” thing. You know, where I came in slowest? And my running and analytical pal, R, telling me that it’s MY time, not to be compared to others. And then my own iteration of my running mantra – This is my Race. Not Yours….
It is a competition. It is. Last is last is last. And that’s flipping annoying that I get called out more than any other member, and now I’m last. This isn’t my style. I mean, come on, I’m a geek by nature and my job is easy peasy when I’m flying through things. I understand this new job and watch out CEO-ship in a decade or two.
Ask me useless trivia. Tell me to swing dance. Need me to do ballet? I’m your girl. Spelling and grammar rules? How to use Excel and Powerpoint at a super advanced level? Need to do an economic financial analysis? Numbers and prose memorization? 10-key and touch typing? Wine selection? Cooking? How to love someone? I’ve got talent in those arenas.
And this running thing, is kicking my ass. And I hate that. I hate feeling like I’m losing. Especially when there’s no one but myself to lose to. So I’ll gather my hugs up for now, and try to realize that it’s still my race, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone – including Sir. And it hurts. A lot to consider that I am disappointing others. It’s not my style to fall short. It’s not allowed in my world.
And I don’t know how to deal.