"This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time."

I know I have said it before, but I love the quote, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears."

It seems that someone hands me a book or suggests one that I really need to hear right when I need it. This last week I have nearly finished 3 very different books that all meet my current balance needs.

First was Rob Bell's "Love Wins." Rob Bell has a wonderful way of simplifying what we, the church, have complicated and abused.

If you haven't read a Rob Bell book before, start with his first one, "Velvet Elvis," to get an idea of his theology. I recommend him for people of all walks of life, because, at the end of it all, we are all humans and that is really the simplest way I can describe how he thinks. After that, hit up "Sex God" (optional), but you must try "Jesus Wants To Save Christians," after. And then you would have permission to read "Love Wins," ha!

"Love Wins" reminds me to wipe the slate clean and clear my mind of others judgements before I decide on what I believe Heaven and Hell are. And, honestly, they are right here, right now. How can I create heaven here and now for me and others as well as fight the hells of now? It basically comes down to maintaining your humanity or getting farther and farther away from it.

Next was Roald Dahl's "Fantastic Mr. Fox." Roald Dahl is a children's literature author and I think everyone should take the time to read a kids book every once in a while. Sure it is a little embarassing carrying a kids book around on campus, but it inspired me to laugh more easily.

Plus I absolutely love the movie, directed by Wes Anderson. The score is awesome, too, and is done by a French composer Alexandre Desplat. It is very dry humor, so beware.

Right now I am working on Chuck Palahniuk's "Fight Club." And I've decided to go out and buy all his books. He is an incredible writer. And if you have seen the movie, you will also know that not only is he great with words, but plot as well.

It correlates really well with personal issues I am struggling with as well as the running. It is the simplification process of Rob Bell, but without the spirituality. More of a "you" focus.

"Self-improvement is masturbation, now self-destruction is the answer."

There's a little bit of Chuck for you.

Get the idea?

Here's some more for you to enjoy.

My race this morning was much more solo feeling that last week at Cooper Young. We weren't numbered (therefore my time was less exact) and there weren't keg parties in yards (Naturally so, it was 8 am).

Not only did I lack encouragement, but I was also punished. Punished for all my bad eating this week. I felt so great last week and truly deserved eating bad after the race, even though it wasn't worth it, but I have really felt awful about giving in to my cravings this week - not just on a personal conscious level, but physically when I run or even just after I eat it.

I was chatting with my hippie friend today while we volunteered at the farmer's market. I told her that just getting your heart rate up enough to where you are sweating for 20 minutes straight 3 times a week is enough to get healthy and begin to lose weight.

Since I run around a 10 minute pace, this explains why it is so hard to get to that 2 mile mark. Getting to that 20 minutes is tough. It hurts. Everything in you wants to stop.

Once you build the stamina and the brain power to push and motivate yourself past it, it is a compound effect. Not only can you go farther, but it makes it easier to go farther.

I eventually hit a point where my calves feel hard as steel. I get a bit nervous since that could be a sign that I'm about to cramp and fall out (how embarrassing!), but I haven't cramped yet, so no worries.

It is at this point and the point where I begin to want to stop that I build stamina. This is the part where you build muscle. This is the part where you become a champion.

It is when it hurts the most. When you are dying to stop, yet you keep on, that you move forward on so many levels.

I have a lot of pride. When I hurt, I do my best to keep it to myself and push through. I do this to the point of burning bridges to keep people out. I mean its only "after you've lost everything that you are free to do anything." Is another relationship really the answer? I think I'm becoming attached to my independence, unwilling to give it up again.

A lot of the time I feel like these are lessons I'm supposed to learn on my own.

No one can run a race for me.

I have to train. I have to hurt. I have to have hardened calves.

And with every bit of emotional pain, I turn to exercise.

As I make my calves harder, I make my heart harder (and stronger), too.

I push myself on so many levels just to see how far I can keep going, how long I can go just being by myself, how many credit hours can I cram into a semester (currently 23), how many extracurriculars, and, sometimes, how long I can feel the pain of hunger before it goes away.

Yeah, I know that last one was bad. No worries, I assure you I am eating.

I think they call this obsessive exercising.

But since it is exercise, can you really do too much? I mean, this is a healthy outlet, right?

Running With A Different Crowd

The funny thing about exercising frequently is it begins to engulf you.
If you let it.
And when you have people flying in to see you run a half marathon (13.1 miles) in December,
you let it.
This entire past week I have only had water and (mostly) fruit. Especially the 24 hours leading up to my first race.
The Cooper Young Festival 4 miler. 
I've felt great.
Incredible.
Sure it sucks denying myself so much in the food category (my biggest weakness, hands down), but it was worth it. I felt better about 20 minutes after I decided against it.
I ran better.
Felt great.
I didn't get to the race until about 10 minutes before it started (some transportation confusion on both my and my hippie friend's part).
I didn't know how I would feel about only inviting one friend to be there. And when I got to the race, it felt pretty lonely.
Everyone had a running partner.
Except yours truly.
But I've trained alone. (Actually I hadn't ran 4 miles since Paris, which we are approaching about a month since pretty soon, yeah, I know). This school year is about learning to be independent again.
Wasn't it supposed to be easy by now?
I spent a month alone in Paris.
And have spent so much time alone here in Memphis the past few weeks.
Haven't I reached the threshold yet?
Aren't I supposed to not care about that boy anymore? It was over in May. Not my fault. He chose something else. You get over it. Its been months.
I'm on a great adventure by myself now.
Why should I feel like anything is missing?
Why do I feel so alone in a huge crowd of people?
So self conscious. So nervous.
God, I have to pee. Do I have time to pop a squat in that port-a-potty before they start the race? Should I risk it? It would be awful to get out and realize everyone has already gone. I better wait. Maybe I will run faster if I have to pee.
And why are there so many old people here with all these official running shirts? Did Santa just say he is running the St. Jude Full Marathon? I'm 21, at least half his age, and I'm only running half?
And then there's all the beautifully unique and artsy midtowners who have come out to stretch their trained legs and push their artsy babies in sporty strollers through the streets of midtown.
"For those doubts that swirl all around us, for those lives that tear at the seams,
We know, we're not what we've seen."
So many crazy, rushed thoughts.
And then someone shouts. And more cheer. And you look up.
And there's a mass of humans running away.
In Memphis, this usually means someone just got shot.
Just kidding.
It's an incredible sight.
But you don't have much time to wait around staring, it's time to go.
So you feed in through the finish line like cows and once you hit the sensor box, the mass moves quickly.
As a sidenote, races these days imbed a sensor into either your number or on a disposable bracelet people wear or put on their shoes. In essence, when the race is over, it isn't necessarily the person that crosses the finish line first that wins. Since you start in different waves (I was in wave 2 of 3, as determined by the anticipated pace time I entered on my registration form), you won't know who is first until everyone is done.
One piece of advice I've repeatedly been told is to stay at my pace and don't feel a need to stay with the front of the crowd. I kept that in mind as I moved with the masses trying to cool my adrenaline.
The first song that came on my running playlist was by far the best song my phone could have bestowed upon my ears right then.
"Marchin On" by OneRepublic.
It is a song of this era of my life. Push through. Despite everything I'm not (a generic church member, a 7 minute/mile runner, a girlfriend, the best friend, highly intellectual, creative, business minded), I march on.
"There's so many wars we fought, there's so many things we're not,
But with what we have, I promise you that,
We're marchin' on."
I march on for who I am.
Which, a lot of the time, is alone.
But for that 38 minutes of running, I ran with "friends," with people who shared my passion. Maybe with some running through their own personal struggles.
With people who, in a way, had been down my path for a little bit, integrating exercise into their life for at least the last little bit.
"For this dance, we'll move with each other. 
There ain't no other step than one foot right in front of other."
Running that race was an incredibly unique experience that only Cooper Young could give.
It is an area that creatively expresses their intelligence and prides themselves on community.
There were so many people along the neighborhood streets to cheer us on. Many threw lawn parties just before the race and cheered with their friends as we ran by. Some held signs for their friends who were running. Several had bubble machines and disco lights out.
And when I thought I didn't have any breath left, they made me realize I had enough to laugh from the bottom of my lungs with such pure and exhilarating joy that could only be produced halfway through a race.
Some held out beer cans for anyone who thirsted.
And some held them while wearing a homemade toga.
Yes, a toga party of middle aged adults. "To-ga, To-ga, Go-ga, Go-ga," they shouted. Animal House, anyone?
For the middle bit of the race I was running behind what I thought was the Jolly Green Giant. After the race I realized he was dressed as a green crayon.
I was beaten by a green crayon.
Only Cooper Young.
I try and sprint the last .1 mile (at least), but as I round the corned with around .2 left, I couldn't help, but sprint like the dickens, what with the finish in sight. Thank God I did-I beat a girl in my division by a mere second.
It felt amazing to sprint that last bit with outrageous cheers for all of us as everyone waited for their friends. Mine was there, too to give me an incredibly huge and rewarding hug. I have to admit, I love the attention.
I finished 38th out of 116.
Top one-third. 
Not bad, huh?
I even managed to keep about a 9:30 minute/mile. A much faster pace than normal.
Maybe I didn't managed to keep my normal paced. But I never stopped.
I marched on. 
I not only marched on, but with a high that I would never get from any drug.
Or love.
I did this. No one else.
"We'll have the days we break, And we'll have the scars to prove it.
We'll have the bonds that we save, but we'll have the heart not to lose it."

Fight, Love, and Figure It Out

As I try and figure out where my life is going I can't help but keep Fight Club in the back of my head. It makes me wonder why I am doing what I'm doing. Why this?
To help my (possible) 80 years on earth go by easier?
I find myself hating business even more, it almost seems dehumanizing, yet at the same time, I enjoy marketing and analyzing basic behaviors.
Well, not so basic since they revolve around the modern marketplace.
Regardless.
It is fun to understand how we think and why.
One of my favorite authors, Rob Bell, recently put out a book called "Love Wins." Like many of his works, he tears away all the stupid religion of Christianity and looks at the basics.
How...organic?
I'm not done with it yet, but it is incredibly moving.
Everytime I read one of his books, it reminds me that "it doesn't have to be like this."
Nothing does.
I don't have to be a business major for anyone. I don't have to protest soldier's funerals or tell people to "turn or burn" to love God.
How I love God is unique to me, I'm made in His image, so why not embrace it.
I fall along a weird line of too liberal for business and not "artsy" enough to be an art student. A friend of mine tells me that makes a great talent manager.
Who knows.
It is weird to ride the line like this, but I feel like I am finally coming to accept it. Accept I will never be a great artist and I don't have to want to be great in business. I'm not really sure where that puts me, but who knows.
There is a part of me that enjoys the blank slate feeling.
But another part that says "you have so much potential, what are you going to do with it? Don't waste your time fucking around."
But is it wasted time if you come to understand yourself better?
Like in "Eat, Pray, Love."
Spending a year finding yourself and being, by the American standard, unproductive didn't work out so bad, after all, huh?
Unfortunately I don't have the funds to conjure up a trip to Italy, India, and Bali.
But I think I've got an equally awesome adventure ahead of me.

Put on the Pull Ups. Or maybe just go do some instead.

I've really gotten into this fitness thing. I find that I truly rely on it whenever I have self doubts. In fact, I've started keeping working clothes in my car for any impromptu visits to the gym to see what group classes are going on. I still refuse to do gym yoga, I like my yoga on the spiritual side and I feel like it gets watered down in a gym.
And the more I workout, naturally the more endorphins I produced making me happier. Another side benefit is that I crave crappy food less. I associate the consequences of a bad workout much closer to eating bad food since more and more of my time is filled with fitness and therefore closer to when I eat.
I really love going to this cycling class at 7 am on Monday/Wednesday. It allows me to wake up before the rest of the world and get going. I guess I feel like I get to stay a step ahead of everyone else. The class is really intense, but it is nice to sweat things out before "life" starts everyday. And then talk things over with a really good friend of mine right after who is taking the class with me.
She is an incredible human who has grown a lot with me the past few years. A few years ago we were VERY different people. We were good friends then, but after all these changes, even better ones now. And we have had very different life circumstances, so that is a miracle in itself that we are even still close.
They say that when the student is ready to learn, the teacher appears. And so it has. Whenever I move into a different chapter of my life, someone from another part of life pops up, ready to teach me.
She has guided me through all the hard times of my relationship and has discovered independence with me. She is my free spirit companion. I feel freer and think more freely with her. My adorable hippie companion who sprung out of the same hurts and went through different trials to get where we are now. After school we will still be on different paths, but I have feeling we will stay close forever.
I've come upon another who has taught me compassion and grace. She is a graceful human with the biggest of hearts. Someone I could lay out on a blanket in the sun with all day (which we did) just enjoying life quietly or talking about the pettiest of things (who would you leave your significant other for or cheat on with? General consensus being Paul Rudd and Matthew McConaughey). She is someone who is spiritually strong and in a way reminds me of my personal path of finding God in places outside the church. She is just generally that great and loyal friend that everyone needs.
Then there is my amazing friend in Orlando. I wish more than anything in the world that he lived here, but then he would not be who he is and I would not learn to be just that much stronger like I am now. He is always there to make me laugh. Or there to just listen to me go through a 5 minute rant (which actually lasts an extra 55 minutes). He always makes time for my phone calls. And my tears. He would never offer to beat up a guy for me (well, maybe) because, at the end of it all, he encourages me to be who I am because that is perfect enough and better than (insert stupid boy's name here) will ever be. Sure, he exaggerates, but it is nice to hear from time to time.
You may not need a hippie in your life (I do), but you definitely need someone like those two.
In a way, I feel like they are all I have here.
But, what else do I need?
Sure, I may only have two friends to call if I want to do something, but they are two amazing people I trust with my soul. They are people I have let my guard down completely with and I love them for that. In a way, I naturally fear it, because a lot of times, things go badly and you regret ever opening your mouth.
Plus, I'm independent, right?
I can do things by myself now, right?
I have to be a big girl now.

Running It Alone

One of the benefits of being virtually cut off from your social life in the states in Paris is, as I said before, there are plenty of things to do, one of my favorites was walking or taking the metro over to one of the many parks.
I always went by myself and had a fabulous time. Unfortunately, Memphis has horrid public transportation (as do many cities) and makes going to the park a bit more of a hassle.
Because the streets are so busy, I can't really run to the park.
In essence I have to drive to go running.
Or run amongst the "little boxes" of suburbia.
But still I hate driving, so it will have to do.
It was nice to be cut off for a while and have some time to myself. I have come to really miss that about being in Paris. Of course, I would eventually make friends if I ever moved there and have people who care enough to call or text from time to time which would certainly alter all that "alone time," but still. For a while it a was a nice perk of being abroad.
No one expected much except an occasional Facebook post just to know I'm alive. Another reason I love flying.
It is a little harder to fall off the face of the planet here. Fortunately I have a plethora of folks that would notice if I went missing off the Facebook or seemed to be without a phone. I don't deserve any of them, but am so thankful that I have them anyway.
So I just go running. And even opt to turn off the phone for the day. Next time, I should remember to let people know I'm alive at least, ha.
It was a really great weekend away from it all, just cooped up in the house. Thinking, planning, cleaning. Getting anxious.
I have a run in a week and a half.
It's my first one.
Originally, the St. Jude Half Marathon was going to be my first one. Sure, it is a huge and official race (even a Boston Marathon qualifier), but I am running it in the company of my brother (who will actually probably leave me behind), so it shouldn't be so bad.
But still, I felt like I needed the social challenge of doing something on my own. Sure, I train by myself, but the thought of having to figure out all these packet pick ups and starting line stuff brings me such anxiety that I figured I should man up, get some independence, and do the first one on my own.
I guess my anxiety means I'm alive right?

Living in the States Again

It was weird to be back. Well, only for the first 2 hours I was home in the states before I fell asleep.
English, english all around and not a drop of French. It makes me feel a little sad and slightly useless for having taken French, but alas, what do you do?
Lights. Artificial, neon, fast food, and basically aesthetically screaming lights. They are everywhere. I could have swore that Paris was the city of lights. But, at night, you only have the sweet glow of street lamps, other than that, it is pretty dark. Paris is...strict?...on their lighting. Less is more kind of concept. I know it is stupid be talking about the ambiance that lights bring and the difference between us and Paris, but still, it was weird.
I have definitely gained weight being home. Despite my eating at least one pastry or dessert every day, all the food is so much healthier over there. Even though I ingested a lot of pizza, mcdonald's, wine, pasta, and a plethora of other seemingly unhealthy foods, I actually lost weight. And I really didn't run as much. I wasn't burning nearly as many calories here. I take in so much more in calories, fat, and carbs here than there (and I even spent a good bit of my days practicing the "art of doing nothing").
My short trip back in Orlando was just that. A short, surreal, blur. It was great to be back and go out to Jellyrolls for the first time (if you are ever at Disney definitely make a trip over to the Boardwalk to hang out, maybe get a kitchen sink, and end up a jellyrolls for a great time), but overall, after my first 2 hour emotional frenzy of being back, it was pretty calm. No rushing around trying to do things one last time. After the emotional rollercoaster I just got off of, I wanted to cry as little as possible, so (and this is very out of character for me) I tried to avoid things that were sentimental.
I was ready to get back to Memphis and tackle this year. And I was going to try my best to leave without leaving so much of my heart behind. It helped that a fellow Hospitality major was down on a internship to kind of give me a Memphian presence and remind me that I had to go back and finish what I started.
And so I have.
I even left Orlando an hour and a half earlier than anticipated, leaving my roommate with a quick and sleepy hug so we both didn't get hysterical. I wanted to drive as if I was just going out for the day, returning soon.
And I did.
A quick hug goodbye.
Be back later.
And being back in Memphis has also been a surreal blur of a week. Rushing from class to class, catching up on what I missed and catching up with people I haven't seen since May. Returning to those relationships and spending the time to catch them up and get them back on track to strengthen them. As much I as just want to stay away from them and purely focus on getting done, I have to remember I still have another 8 months here and, really, there are some incredible people here.
My friend asked me the other day why I wasn't going to the football game. In all honestly, Memphis isn't all that great, so that's a lot of time and effort to watch a sport that I think is slow and boring just to watch us lose.
"But it's your senior year."
Holy Buddah.
It is my senior year.
This is it.
This is my last labor day weekend. Only one more Fall break. One advising session. One more semester to plan. One more Thanksgiving and Christmas in Memphis. And I may not even be here for Christmas.
I can't believe it's almost over. There is so much I still want to do.
The race is almost over.