Thursday, March 15, 2007
You're Scheming On A Thing That's A Mirage
One month of Operation Hiatus down- two more to go. There are days when I think that this is really good for me, and there are days when I absolutely hate every single second of it. I still have my defeatist 'No One is Ever Going to Really Love Me' attitude. So clearly, I still need some work.
The weirdest aspects of my personality come out while I am on the treadmill. I get bizarrely competitive with the person on the treadmill next to me. I watch their time/speed/distance and have to beat them in some way. Yesterday, as I was getting into my running groove, a guy got on the treadmill next to me. He was tall, gorgeous, in shape- basically a physically perfect male specimen. And of course, I felt dowdy and slow next to him. But I was determined to outlast him. He might have been running faster, but I was going to run longer. And when he got off his treadmill about 4-5 minutes before I was due to finish, I almost did a fist pump, high as I was on my own ridiculous victory.
And I get nutty about the numbers. I'm always stressing time and distance, enough so that for at least the first half of my run, I put a towel over the electronic console part of the treadmill to stop myself from checking it every half a second. I always have to beat my last 2 mile time (I generally always run 2 miles on the weekdays, then my Saturday runs are longer. As my Saturday runs get even longer, I'll have to bump up my weekday runs to 2.5, then 3 miles). So as I'm finishing my 8th lap, I always mess around with the speed constantly to make sure that I finish under my last 2 mile time. Sometimes this means that I have to sprint the last 100 feet or so, and then I want to throw up. So, that's fun.
Now, at the tail end of one of the longest days of my working career- I may need someone to lay me down, give me oxygen, and put an IV of chocolate directly into my carotid artery.
Doesn't that sound wonderful? In reality, I will be hie-ing myself over to Grand Central, where I will ride the subway to my friend's office, and we will take ourselves to Costco with some guy who has a truck and I will purchase gigantic sized portions of things that I'm sure I don't need.
And just warning you- I will probably eat a hot dog. Because I love Costco hot dogs. Don't hate.
Today's Title from: Sabotage by the Beastie Boys
The weirdest aspects of my personality come out while I am on the treadmill. I get bizarrely competitive with the person on the treadmill next to me. I watch their time/speed/distance and have to beat them in some way. Yesterday, as I was getting into my running groove, a guy got on the treadmill next to me. He was tall, gorgeous, in shape- basically a physically perfect male specimen. And of course, I felt dowdy and slow next to him. But I was determined to outlast him. He might have been running faster, but I was going to run longer. And when he got off his treadmill about 4-5 minutes before I was due to finish, I almost did a fist pump, high as I was on my own ridiculous victory.
And I get nutty about the numbers. I'm always stressing time and distance, enough so that for at least the first half of my run, I put a towel over the electronic console part of the treadmill to stop myself from checking it every half a second. I always have to beat my last 2 mile time (I generally always run 2 miles on the weekdays, then my Saturday runs are longer. As my Saturday runs get even longer, I'll have to bump up my weekday runs to 2.5, then 3 miles). So as I'm finishing my 8th lap, I always mess around with the speed constantly to make sure that I finish under my last 2 mile time. Sometimes this means that I have to sprint the last 100 feet or so, and then I want to throw up. So, that's fun.
Now, at the tail end of one of the longest days of my working career- I may need someone to lay me down, give me oxygen, and put an IV of chocolate directly into my carotid artery.
Doesn't that sound wonderful? In reality, I will be hie-ing myself over to Grand Central, where I will ride the subway to my friend's office, and we will take ourselves to Costco with some guy who has a truck and I will purchase gigantic sized portions of things that I'm sure I don't need.
And just warning you- I will probably eat a hot dog. Because I love Costco hot dogs. Don't hate.
Today's Title from: Sabotage by the Beastie Boys
Posted by Chloe
at 10:53 AM |
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