The Most Pathetic Runner in the World

So, as promised, the story behind my inability to walk further than 50 feet at a time.

When I moved back into my parents' house I decided to use my ample time wisely by trying to get back in shape. The drastic diet change has already made a difference (I haven't eaten out in WEEKS; that's like years for a college kid) but I knew that if I really wanted to get healthy it would have to be the old fashioned way; by sweating.

My first step was to start walking around the neighborhood community center every evening. The center is situated on a hilly piece of land that features a walking trail. I started off walking with my parents, and a slow and steady mile per night was all they could take. I decided I had to step it up a notch. After slowly walking a mile with one of my parents I wasn't worn out from physical exertion, I was amped up from a warm-up. So I went to my local Wal-Mart and bought a mountain bike. From there I started riding a couple of miles per night and added an extra mile to my walk (sans parents). After keeping up this routine for about 3 weeks, I was ready for more. One day on the track a girl jogged by me and it sparked something in me. I suddenly wanted to run. So I did. Not very far and not very fast, but it was a start. For the whole next week I ran and walked intermittently during my time on the trail, and I was beginning to really like it, aside from one thing: my body did not agree. I had crazy shin splints and could feel tendonitis aching at my knees.

Now I was an athletic trainer in high school so I could basically diagnose myself on this (though I did email the head trainer on staff at the school for confirmation and help fixing the problem). I went to the drug store, bought some not so cheap tendonitis knee straps, iced before and after my run/walk, and thought that would be enough to solve my problems. I. Was. Wrong. And ouch did it hurt. By the end of my week of running I couldn't run fifty feet without stopping. My knees were weak and my right foot had started aching as well. Figuring this was not a good sign, I stopped running and walking (to my surprising dismay) and just did some biking. Apparently that was not enough to stop the pain. By Sunday I could barely walk across the room without stopping every two seconds for a break or feeling my left knee buckle under the pain and stress.

So although after a month of good progress the last thing I wanted to do was stop my momentum, I decided that was exactly what I had to do. I discovered that a healthy dose of ibuprofen and lots of ice made the pain almost entirely go away, so for the last 3 days that's all I've been doing. Sitting, icing, popping pills, and watching LOTS of TV. As it turns out, stopping was the best thing I've done so far. I woke up this morning and my knees didn't ache for the first time in over a week, so I think I'm on the right track. I'll probably give this regimen until the end of this weekend, and then try to ease back into my workout routine. However, as much as I enjoyed it, I think I'll hold off on the running for a while. I'll let my muscles strengthen and my body get in better shape before I pound my knees like that again. Yayyyy for boring low impact workouts till winter!

Day 34 of Captivity: Bachelor Pad Day

It's been 34 days since my life as a blissful college student ended. 34 days of virtual exile from the life and times of anyone remotely interesting. Due to my recent unfortunate running injuries (more to come on that later) I am basically confined to my couch or my bed from the time I wake up (some time after noon, I won't get into specifics to protect the guilty) until the wee hours of the morning when I go to sleep. Since reading a book is an all-in-one-sitting kind of thing for me, which is obviously a time consuming endeavor, I've sustained myself with television. Constant and mind-numbing television. Due to the fact that all of the quality shows of the season have not yet debuted, I am left with whatever obsession that carried over from my time as a lazy college student (which is much different from my time as a lazy non college student; don't judge).

This brings us to my activity of the day: catching up on my missed episodes of Bachelor Pad. I stumbled upon this wonderfully horrible show midway through its second season. I was intrigued by the combination of a Real World style challenge game mixed with the romance and drama of The Bachelor/Bachelorette. In about an episode and a half I was hooked. Characters I'd seen before in my spotty watching of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette appeared in a context I didn't expect, and I LOVED IT! When I discovered the adorable and heartbroken Michael Stagliano there was no going back. I'm convinced he's the perfect guy, and I've even pitched a reality show to ABC featuring me and him in a romantic situation. Or maybe I just pitched it to my college roommate. Whichever; he's precious, and a large part of the reason I watch that mess of a show.

Upon moving back in with my parents my usual pattern of TV watching was thrown off a bit and I began missing a good chunk of episodes of my favorite guilty pleasure. Having no other plans today, and avoiding the painting job I have yet to do on some old furniture, I decided that I would catch up on my backlog of episodes. I started on episode 3 and wound up watching all of the 5 episodes that remained between me and being able to watch the finale live on Monday. Word to the unwise, each episode of Bachelor Pad is 2 hours on TV. Online without commercials it runs about 81 minutes. That's an hour and 20 minutes of juicy drama in each episode. Times 5. I watched a total of 6 hours and 45 minutes of Bachelor Pad today. And man, my head is spinning. The hookups, the fights, the vote-offs; I can barely even keep their names straight at this point.

As any good TV addict knows, watching a large quantity of episodes in one sitting does something to the mind. It's like reading a book for too long: you get sucked in. I remember when I was in the heat of my Gossip Girl kick I was practically writhing with annoyance for Serena Van Der Woodson. I was totally team Blair, and was literally sending Gossip Girl blast texts out to my friends. It changes you. With Bachelor Pad being more of a reality/game show than a deeper story that wasn't as much an issue, but I still couldn't wait to see what happened next. When the house hated Chris, I hated Chris. When everyone oohed and ahhed at the newly formed couples I too oohed and ahhed. It was as if I was in the house with them, getting inebriated, being ridiculously beautiful and causing drama for the enjoyment of America. But of course, that's what good TV is about; reeling in us poor unfortunate watchers who can't look away from the screen even if we know what we're watching is pure and utter crap.

So, as sad as it may seem, that basically sums up my day in a nutshell. I'm pathetic, love bad TV, and can't wait to see Michael Stagliano's gorgeous face in the finale on Monday. Ahhh, my life.

My Favorite Story

As it states in my bio I graduated from Texas A&M University with a degree in English/Creative Writing. So that means, of course, that I'm a writer. My two favorite creative writing classes at A&M were professed by a man named Larry Heinemann. He's a very colorful person, to say the least (at one point I began counting the number of times he said the f word per class; it was at least 10 every session), and I very much enjoyed this workshop type class. We wrote a short story a week, and this not only helped me hone my writing skills but also to stretch my creative legs. One of the prompts he gave us was entitled "the letter story". We were to write a story in the form of a letter directed to one of our classmates. Though this prompt was a little awkward in a room full of strangers, the story became one of my favorites. I thought I'd share it with you today, due to my tiredness and lack of inspiration. It's a tad long, so be patient! Hope you enjoy!

Letter Story

Sarah,

            The squeaking of the rocking chairs on the wooden veranda were the only sounds that could be heard that faithful evening. We sat next to each other in near silence, save the sounds of movement coming from the chairs as I mentioned earlier. Neither of us wanted to shatter the perfection of the silence, but the longer it went on the more its breaking seemed imminent.

            I scanned the land around me, taking in its beauty. You would have loved it there. So green, so vast. To my right the tree line broke to let in the blue of the coastline. It was such a beautiful sight to see. The mix of tropical trees reaching tall into the sky and the rumbling ocean chipping away at the earth was an alluring contradiction. The climate on the porch was not quite as serene. I felt like we were crowded together there, thought the only thing separating us from the emptiness of the sky above the trees where the house sat were a few posts holding up an overhang of the roof that covered the porch. You and I both know it wasn’t the physical surroundings that made me feel this way. Our relationship hadn’t been perfect in a long time. 

             Remember when we first met, though? I saw him from across the room at that silly sales convention I never wanted to attend in the first place. That obnoxious Jane Luxenburgh was chatting my ear off, but I wasn’t listening. He’d spotted me too and we were having a better conversation with our eyes than I’d ever had with Jane.  I didn’t care that I was leaving her in the middle of her sentence to walk towards him. He was heading my way too. You told me once I almost looked like a zombie walking towards him. I didn’t see anything around me but him. I guess that’s how our relationship always was; my eyes were always on him and nothing else mattered. Maybe that’s what led us to that moment on the porch. Months and months of complete focus on him made his flaws that much more visible. It was as if my attention to him and neglect of everything else caused me to see him through a magnifying glass; every feature was more wonderful, more horrible. All that intensity gave way to apathy, and apathy to silence.

            We sat quietly together for what seemed like days. He broke the silence first. It was so like him to make the first move. Like the first time we spent time alone when he kissed me right in the middle of a sentence. I don’t even remember what I was talking about, some random story I’m sure. But something about what I said or how I said it was too much for him to protect the platonic nature of our relationship thus far. Everything was perfect that night. It was as if my attitude towards him was my attitude towards everything; when he made me happy the world made me happy. And when he made me cry I had trouble doing anything but.

            There were no tears now, just the echo of his voice saying “we have to talk about this.” THIS. Was that all our relationship was now, a used up item soon to be discarded? A this? I didn’t even care. I was tired. I was tired of the crying for hours until I fell asleep and the making up a week later, tired of my friends not knowing what to think of him and ultimately ceasing to talk to me about him altogether. I was over this roller coaster romance we’d been riding. Of course our “romance” was more pain than love at this point.

            After a second of processing his expected yet oddly painful statement, I agreed. We did need to talk. We hadn’t been doing much talking in the weeks before the trip. We’d be together, physically, but our minds were millions of miles away. Now that our bodies were far away from the lives we’d intertwined around each other, our minds were back at home, with our problems.

            He’d asked me to go away with him on that trip one rainy Sunday afternoon. My friends were all so thrilled for me when they heard we were taking a trip together. “How romantic!” they’d exclaim. I’d nod and try to force a jovial smile. In reality the invitation wasn’t one most girls spend their lives dreaming of, one that ends in a ring and a promise. In my heart I knew it was a last attempt to bring our relationship back to life, an attempt to see what we’d be like without the stresses of everyday life. I could barely muster enough enthusiasm to say yes. My life was grey now, not sad nor happy, just dull.

            ‘Who is this person,’ I’d wonder. It sure wasn’t me. I’m happy; I see the world as an endless conveyor belt of opportunities for something good to happen. He was my earth, and when you can’t trust it to hold you up anymore nothing seems as hopeful.

            The trip did open my eyes though. Seeing the beautiful rainforest and all its vibrant colors reminded me how much joy there is in life and how important it is not to waste it. Unfortunately knowing that didn’t make what was coming any easier. I felt like an addict. He wore me out, made me look and feel haggard and tired, but still I needed more. I knew he was bad for me, and I was bad for him. We just couldn’t let each other go.

            As he started performing the famous and time honored breakup script I looked out into the beauty of the country we were temporarily residing in. My ears heard his words, but I wasn’t listening. I was thinking. Thinking about all the things I’d learned in the last year, and all that I’d missed. My youngest sister’s senior prom was the same weekend as his cousin’s wedding so I went with him and missed it. Time and time again my friends invited me to dinners and happy hours and I declined to spend more time with him. I could kick myself now. Why had I done that? Why had I put his needs in front of my own? Because he was “the one”. Or he was supposed to be. But all the bitterness I’d collected was now gone. I knew it was time for this. I needed to learn how to live again. He had made me crippled, changed the way I lived and looked at the world. Not that it was his fault. I’d done the same to him, I’m sure. That was what our relationship had done to us. And now it was time to end it.

            He left the next day on an early flight. He had paid our house off through the weekend and told me I should stay and enjoy it. I appreciated that. He was always so gracious; it was one of the things I loved most about him. But I don’t hate him now. He’s a piece of my history, and after I rehab myself back to normality and join the functioning world again, I’d like to be his friend.

            On the last morning of my stay I woke up early. It was unlike me to do so, as you well know, but something called me out of bed and drew me to the veranda. I looked out at the glorious sunrise illuminating the life that would inhabit the day and listened to the silence. All I could hear was the wind in the trees, and the sound of two empty rocking chairs creaking.

Thanks for listening,

Abby

Welcome to My Life

Helloooooo interwebs! For my first post I'm going to tell you a little bit about myself, and what got me here to this point in my life.

I was born in 1989 in Corpus Christi, Texas to two great parents. I went to Calallen High School and graduated with honors in 2008. From there I moved to College Station, Texas to spend the next wonderful four years of my life at Texas A&M University. I was very involved in student organizations at A&M, namely Fish Camp and MSC LEAD among others. It was in these organizations that I learned to lead as well as follow, create as well as implement others' creations, and above all to be passionate about whatever it is I decide to do. I loved my time at Texas A&M. I met amazing people and learned so much about myself and the world around me. In May 2012 I graduated from Texas A&M with a degree in English/Creative Writing (no honors this time...oops...) and was sure that by the time my lease was up on my house in College Station I would have found a job and would be venturing off to be a real, independent adult for the first time in my life.

Cut to now. I've been living at home with my parents for the last 2.5 weeks, still looking for a job. Turns out that the time I was spending learning about leadership and gaining people skills should have been used in an internship. Who knew!? Either way, I can't change the past, so now I must look forward.

In this blog you'll find colorfully described tidbits of my life as it is now. I'm not quite sure what that might be at the moment, but from what I've seen so far it should go something like this:
     *My animals are funny/cute/annoying, here's a picture and an entertaining story (I forgot to mention earlier, I live in a zoo. Not literally, but almost. My parents own a dog and 3 cats, and I've brought along my white American short hair cat Ace as well, totaling 4 cats. Recently my mom and dad have added chickens to the menagerie. Yes, chickens. Yes, we live in a residential neighborhood. I told you this would be interesting.)
     *My parents are crazy
     *Stories and anecdotes from my temporary job as a substitute teacher
     *Thoughts on the landmarks in the lives of friends that are quickly surpassing mine
     *An account of my struggles in learning to be a runner (including my annoying fight with shin splints)
     * Any and all other things that come to my random mind that I feel need to be documented forever on the endless memory of the internet


I thank you ahead of time for your patience with my scattered brain, and your interest in my sad little life.

Until a decent hour,

Abby