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155 Days: Get it right. Get it tight.

8 May 2009

Hey there, sunshine! MAN what a contrast to this morning. It’s so impossibly beautiful outside, I want to wallow in the grass.

Don’t let the last couple of months fool you.
Here’s the thing. I’m bad ass.
It felt so goooooood today. It’s sunny and 70s, with just the right amount of wind. I ran hard for longer than I have thus far this training season, AND when I was finished I felt like barfing.
And i LOVED it.

If there was ever a day I needed a good run, this was it. I even told myself before I went out, you’d better effing earn this, because you’ve already showered once today, and your hair looks good. (it did.) Worth it tough. I’ve been a little antsy today. I know it’s because I’m starting to crave running again.
But also feeling mentally antsy. A character flaw I’m noticing, and I don’t like it.
I have an obsessive personality. (Not obsessive compulsive, mind you. Anyone who’s seen the organized chaos of my living areas could tell you that.)
If I can’t remember some obscure fact in conversation (or, for that matter, on my own) I can’t let it go. When the rest of the group has moved on, or a reasonable amount of time has passed, my wheels are still a’turnin, trying to remember Steve Buscemi’s name, or that Ace of Base lyric, or the capital of Lithuania.
And if I’m trying to get someone to pay attention to me, I’ll all but wear a clown suit (and probably would, if I thought said person was into clowns).
Basically, if any area of my life (job, idea, relationship, hair day) isn’t going the way I think it should, I worry about it. And reworry about it. And worry some more.
And just yesterday, what was all that stuff about the lilies of the field…toil not…ya’ big freak…(again, I paraphrase).

For real though. Let’s take a lesson from the modern cinema, shall we? A girl who obsesses is out for no better fate than being stabbed by Beyonce or boiling some kid’s pet bunny. It’s not okay. It’s not becoming. It’s not productive. It’s not fun. (well, it is fun. that’s part of the problem. but it needs to stop.)

Grow thyself up, saith the lord.

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