Almost a year ago, my good friend Jeff moved down to New Orleans. It was a real smart move on his part, he had lived in Western New York (or Syracuse) his whole life, and he has the talent and drive to make it anywhere; I thought it would be great for him to get some new experiences and just live somewhere different for awhile. As is the phenomenon of Buffalo, I've found that if you've grown up in the WNY area, and you don't go somewhere else for college (I'm talking 3+ hour drive away, so not necessarily terribly far), you usually don't ever get out. Buffalo isn't a bad town, but I think everyone who has grown up there needs to live somewhere else for awhile. If, for nothing else, to get away from the snow.

::side note: I love snow, I am not bashing snow here::

Anyway, so Jeff and his lovely girlfriend are living in New Orleans now. And I want to go visit him. Luckily, so does another friend of ours, Joey. Joey has recently picked up running as a hobby and is actually running a half marathon this weekend. I'm so proud of him. He asked me for running advice when he first started out.

The past couple of times I've actually had a vacation, I've only been able to justify the trip with a marathon. I don't take vacations ever, and I almost feel guilty if I take the time off of work and I go somewhere and I don't race. Sounds crazy, but that's how I roll. And I haven't trained for a marathon in over a year, and I actually miss it. I miss getting up early on a saturday morning to hash out 12 or 16 miles.

New Orleans' marathon is Feburary 28th. I figured that would be a perfect time to take a vacation, see Jeff, and run a marathon with Joey. It's like killing 3 birds with one stone. That gives me about 6 months to train for the marathon(or half marathon if I want to be realistic-but who wants that?). This would be a big thing for me, since I've never run a marathon with a friend before. I've had friends meet me out on the course and run a bit with me, or just give me a bottle of water, but never the whole way through.

Hell, as long as we're not being realistic, why don't I shoot to qualify for Boston?

Why not indeed.

My sister gave me a book, The Temperament God Gave You, and although I never, ever read, I decided to give it a try. This isn't a post about Spirituality, or even about reading, it's about understanding my own temperament.

The book lays out 4 specific temperaments, traits that you're born with that determine the type of person you are. Not exactly personality traits, but an explanation of what makes you tick. Wikipedia does a mediocre job of explaining the temperaments, but it's better than nothing if you have no clue what I'm talking about. I'd suggest reading the book. It's not all about Christianity and Spirituality either.

It was pretty fun to read about the different temperaments and figuring out which one I was. One stood out plain as day: I am Phlegmatic. Basically, that means I'm a calm, laid back person who appreciates harmony and peace. And not the hippie-like 'Why can't we all just get along?' crap. Really, I'm a peacemaker. I always have been since I was a little kid. I can empathize with others and I'm very loyal, but I don't wear my heart on my sleeve and I'm usually pretty quiet and passive. However, I also have a tendency to be downright lazy, I shrink away from conflict and I can be very resistant to change, especially if it forces me to change a schedule that I've meticulously set up for myself.

I also tend to gravitate to doing what other people want to do and not realize that I might not be doing what I want to do, because I want to make other people happy and that's what makes me happy. Does that make sense? It made sense to me. In all of my past relationships, I've picked up tons of hobbies that I did because my boyfriend wanted to do it with me. Most things I enjoyed well enough, but when the relationship ended, so did that activity. My main reminder of this is the samurai sword I have hidden away in my closet.

One thing really struck me about the characteristics of a Phlegmatic. They are difficult to motivate and have a tendency to be lazy (in a physical sense). Also, they need a lot of positive encouragement (more so than other temperaments), and tend to withdraw when nagged, criticized, or sometimes, even when challenged.

Instantly, I thought about running. I have always had difficulty getting out there and running, motivating myself, and I always wondered why this was so difficult for me to do if I really enjoyed doing it? Also, no one 'got' me into running. It's one of the only things that I chose to do on my own, without any prodding from anyone. It's something I've held onto for a long time because I realized the importance of that. However, should something I enjoy be a constant challenge for me? And I'm not talking about challenges like completing a 50 miler, or running a 6 minute mile. I'm talking about waking up every morning and going out there and just doing it. After reading and understanding a little more about my temperament, I think I'm starting to understand that yes, running will always be a challenge. It will always be tough for me to go against my natural tendencies and preferences and get out there and be active, to constantly push myself even though I don't like being pushed-it tends to make me regress into a passive state. Perhaps, after knowing that I'm motivated by what other people want to do and in my need to make other people happy, I should join a running club, or do a relay marathon, something where I know people are counting on me to run and to keep up my part.

However, I do like how I've made running such an individual activity. I am a very independent person and especially with my insane schedule, I need as much free time as I can get. I need time away from other people and even away from my dog so I don't gravitate to my natural state of attaining order and making everyone happy. I know I need time to listen to myself and just do what I want to do. Unfortunately, motivating myself is much more than 'Just do it!'

I guess I haven't really figured out anything, maybe when I'm working less and have more free time I'll join a running club, since I think that will really encourage me to run since I'll be around other people who enjoy the same activity. But right now, I'll keep running personal. It's holding my nose above water and encouraging me to keep treading water until I can get enough strength to pull myself out of this situation.

Stuff's been happening lately. Big stuff. Stuff that makes me go back to smoking like a chimney. I was really proud of my healthy eating (I wasn't even drinking diet coke anymore!), and how much work I was doing, getting up early and going to Muay Thai.

Most of that has gone to shit for now. I know I'll get back to it, but right now, I have to sort some shit out.

Remember playing dodgeball in elementary school PE(gym) class? If you didn't, you either didn't grow up in this country, or I went to a way more WASP-y school than I thought. I was awesome at dodgeball. Most of the time, I was the last player standing after everyone else had been tagged out. If we were playing the 'prisioner' version of dodgeball, I was usually able to 'rescue' most of my team, because I played softball, and I could throw accurately. I loved playing dodgeball because I wasn't terribly awesome at any other sport - ever (yeah, I was pretty bad at softball too).

Though, despite all my aweseome feats, I dreaded the beginning of class when it came time to pick the teams. Since I wasn't popular in just about any group, I was picked last every time. You know, the last two people are a) the most unpopular girl in class, and b) the smelly/weird girl. Usually the smelly/weird girl got picked first. I'm sure everyone's been the last one picked at some point, and it sirs up a host of insecurities that you thought you got over in high school.

I call it the Dodgball eEffect.

I've been going to Muay Thai 3-4 times a week for a steady 2 months now, and you would have thought by now that most of the guys in the class wouldn't be scared to hit a girl. Yet whenever our sensei, Marcelo, tells us to pair up, I know that if there's an odd number of students in the class, I'll be sparring against Marcelo for the first round. As soon as I look around me to non-verbally ask, 'You wanna pair up?' with anyone, their eyes dart away and search for someone else. This happens a few more times. The Dodgeball Effect. I hate it. I am left without a partner and Marcelo steps in to spar with me.

I guess I can't blame it all on the fact that I'm the only girl in class, it could be because I'm new. But I know most of the guys there at least by name by now. And I should be excited to spar with Marcelo, after all, it's practically like I'm getting a private lesson from him, but sparing with anyone who is a black belt or above is terrifying. Not because I'm afraid they're going to hit me (black belts have more control over their movements; and as I've discussed before, sparring is not code for being the crap out of someone), but because I feel like every second I'm being judged. I know I'm not, and I know no one expects me to do practically anything right because I'm a white belt. But since I am overly critical of myself and I always expect the worst, no rational argument has been able to keep me from thinking that all Marcelo is thinking is, 'This girl sucks.'

I know I'm getting better though, because everyone from Marcelo to the other instructors in class have told Sean (he does Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu there) that I'm doing well. And Sean doesn't ask them how I'm doing, so there'd be no reason for them to say that if it wasn't true. It sounds stupid, but I really do feel the need to be better than 'average.' And yes, mainly that's because I'm surrounded by boys. Even though I'm a total tomboy and I've always run with the boys, this feels different. This is competetive. Fun, yes, but competetive. I'm already thinking about how I might want to fight in a year or two. Though I'd be fighting only against other girls, they also would be as tough as the boys, and that's what i want.

Toughness. It's not enough for me to be 'tough for a girl,' just tough.

Sidenote: I weighed myself in the morning and right before I went to bed last night(yeah, i know i shouldn't weigh myself so much, but i just couldn't help it), and I actually weighed less in the evening than I did in the morning! Thank you Muay Thai practice and 5 mile run!

It helps a lot to have a dog who can adapt to a new routine like clockwork within a week.

For the past few days I've been getting better at getting up at 5:30 and going for a short run. Most days, I took the dog with me, to kill two birds with one stone. I still don't really like taking Snow out on my runs. Picture yourself getting out of bed and lazily putting on your running clothes and shoes. You're just about out the door when your 8 year old starts crying and begging you to take him with you on your run. You agree begrudgingly (pretend you're a really slow runner and you're not going far at all). You and your kid start running, and all goes well for about a half mile. Then the kid gets bored with running. It stops to look at something, darts in front of you making you lose your stride, at one point the kid just starts sprinting towards a busy road and you have to run after it to stop your silly child from being flattened (or pretend you've put the kid on a leash, you still get pulled every which way by their movements). This continues for the next mile or so. After that, your kid gets tired, they fall behind, they use any excuse at all to slow down or stop completely. You tell yourself that you'll never take your kid on another one of your runs. The next morning, the kid comes into your room, 20 minutes before your alarm goes off, jumps on your bed and starts whining about why you haven't gotten up and taken him to run yet.

I have no idea why I had to use a kid in the above scenario. I could have just told you about what my dog does and it would have made perfect sense. I've been told that I compare children to dogs a lot. Before you get huffy, think about it. They really do share a lot of the same qualities.

I guess it's not as bad as it sounds, because he gets a little better with every run, but it's tough right now. Hopefully one day he'll be a dog I'll barely notice during my runs, and maybe one day after that I'll really look forward to running with him.

However, he adapts to one thing quite well. For the past few mornings, if I'm not already out of bed and on my way out by 5:50, he whines and cries and begs me to get out of bed. I don't know if he wants to go for a run or he just has to pee, but either way, it gets me up when the snooze button is so tempting to keep hitting (even though Sean hates it when I do that).

And getting up in the morning is actually easier than I thought. I've been feeling better and happier in general, and I wouldn't say I have more energy throughout the day, but it's not as much of a struggle as it was only a few weeks ago. I'll bet there's a lot of other circumstances that have helped attribute to my change of mood, but hey, I'll take what I can get.

Two nights ago, I actually couldn't sleep. Normally I could fall asleep standing up on a crowded train with a screaming child next to me. I can't remember the last time I couldn't sleep.

But my husband Sean had just returned from a trip to Buffalo to see my sister, her new husband, and all of my friends. Why couldn't I go? Because I had to work and had already taken off too much time last month because of all the weddings my family had (I swear, I'm not complaining...). My job doesn't offer vacation time, and if I had driven home with him, I couldn't have worked at the restaurant on Friday and Saturday night, so I would have missed out on making $250. That would have been a double whammy.

My sister and her husband were talking with Sean about having kids, and how they want to wait for a little while. But they're Catholic, and not allowed to use birth control, so I'm giving it about a year before I have a nephew or niece. We all know how well the rhythm method works.

On Saturday night, after I had worked a 9 hour shift, and Sean came home, he and I were cuddling and he asked if I was still sure that I didn't want to have kids. Sean and I have always agreed that we didn't want to have kids, or at least that it wasn't terribly likely. He said he just wanted to keep the idea on the horizon and though he didn't want to have kids now, he maybe wanted to in the future. After about 10 minutes, he and the dog were fast asleep and I was wide awake and feeling constricted both physically and mentally, so I went downstairs to listen to Counting Crows and explore the mysteries of Wikipedia until 5am. I hate and love Wikipedia. It can be so inaccurate, but the level of entertainment is astounding. I went from reading about rock lyrics to Greek Mythology to tentacle erotica(ick) in about 10 minutes.

I've had the 'I don't want babies - ever' conversation about ten thousand times, and 99% of the time it's the same reaction: 'Oh, you won't feel that way forever.' Actually, whenever I say something to the effect of 'I don't want kids,' my old co-worker would reply in a giddy tone, 'Yeah, my wife said that too.' He has a 3 year old kid who actually is cute.

But think about it for a minute, why would you ask if I want kids? Right now, I'm a very angry and bitter person. For the past 3 years I've had to work over 80 hours a week to make ends meet. I see a friend or two maybe once a month and talk to my family about that much. My co-workers don't bother asking me what I did over the weekend on Monday mornings anymore. I'm jealous that most people don't have to be anywhere after they clock out at 5pm. Most of my free time is spent working out, and then feeling angry that I don't have time to do anything else. When I am home, I have a husband who I need time with, I have chores to do, and a dog who is constantly whining for attention.

"Well, yeah not now obviously, but what about in a few years when you're not working as much?"
When you've been keeping up this routine for 3 years, does it seem possible to imagine life differently? I can't see past how I'm living right now. I have dreams that I only work 50 hours a week. I dream that I get up, go to work at 8, get out at 5, from Monday through Friday. Those are my dreams. When I relax and go to my 'happy place,' I don't think about being on a sandy beach with a mai thai in my hand, I think about going home after work. About having a whole day off without an agenda or a single thing I have to do. Asking me if in a few years I'd like to have a kid when I'm ::snort:: 'not as busy' is like asking you how you'd like living on the moon, when the technology becomes avaliable.

There's enough shitty parents out there who raise some pretty shitty children. At least I know enough that an overworked bitch probably shouldn't have a child just because she has a vagina.

So the month of weddings is over and to be honest, I'm really excited to get back to my normal busy schedule of work, work, and more work. I also can go back to Muay Thai. I missed just about the whole month of training, and I was almost too embarrassed to go back. Practically every thing I had learned I had forgotten, and I was terribly out of shape. Although I hadn't backslid at all. I haven't had a drink since May 5th, and besides one slip up, I haven't had a cigarette either. I couldn't say if I've quit for good, but I'm taking it one day at a time.

But Muay Thai(MT) is a lot of fun, and I actually feel like I'm getting a workout, which hasn't happened on any of my runs in the past year or so. Yeah, I know that's my own fault for not sticking to my schedule and yadda yadda yadda. I'm so full of excuses (A.K.A. shit) sometimes, and I'm really trying hard to not let those 'excuses' get me down. Like I said, one day at a time.

Here's how MT goes down: We run to warm up, we jump rope, do crunches (depending on which instructor it is we might do anywhere from 50 to 'Keep going until I tell you to stop.'), then it's technique for an hour. Our instructor focuses on one combo, starting easy, then working in different variations to make it a bit more complicated. I'm still floundering in the class because essentially I've just gone to a handful of classes. So, while my instructors say I'm improving, I'm pretty sure I look really stupid. Plus, I bruise easily and my skin is ghastly pale, bruises practically show up as soon as I'm hit because I don't have any Vitamin D in my body or something. I think my doctor thinks I'm a vampire. I can't wear skirts this summer because I'm afraid people will think Sean beats me. He doesn't by the way, I just can't block kicks for the life of me.

Tonight, like every other night of MT, we ended up sparing. We switch partners 2 or 3 times and I usually end up being paired with someone more experienced. But not so experienced that they are totally bored by me trying to throw a poorly placed jab low kick combo. But these guys are usually extremely helpful because I'm so new, bless their hearts. And when they hit me, they stop right before point of impact, or the impact is so light I practically don't feel it. And I appreciate that, not because I don't want to get hit hard, but because hitting me during a sparing session is pretty pointless. Not only would I not learn anything by getting hit hard, but blue belts don't beat on white belts. It's just polite.

But, there's another white belt who started just about the same time as I did. Like me, he doesn't have martial arts training, but I'm pretty sure he played football or something, because he's pretty muscular. A lot of times, we'll end up being partners for the technique part of class, since we're on the same skill level. But tonight I ended up sparing with him. I got a sinking feeling when I realized we were going to have to fight. Remember, I'm a white belt, he's a white belt. NO BEATING ON EACH OTHER. I don't think he gets that.

Don't get me wrong, he's not totally laying into me, and I can take a hit, and I should know to block better, or get out of the way, or see his kick coming and counter, but tonight he pissed me off to a level that I couldn't describe. I thought I was going to dig right through my mouth guard, I was clenching my teeth so hard. But every time I stepped in to throw a punch, he lifted his knee and hit me with a front kick, not so easily mind you. I'd stagger back and try to regroup, and I have to hand it to him, he wasn't really doing anything wrong, he'd hit me with some combos of things I didn't know how to block or counter, my only real option was to just step away, out of range. But, I can tell, this early in, that's NOT going to be my fighting style. I'd rather move to the side, or block and counter, maybe take a step back quickly before going back in, but I don't back up a few feet and then wait for my opponent to come after me. I'm way more aggressive than that. I have a feeling that I'll have to change my ways, but not now. Right now I'm all about throwing myself into the deep end and not being afraid to get hit in the face.

But it was all just embarrassing, getting caught with the same stupid front kick again and again. I was trying different combos, and all he was throwing were kicks. I wasn't so angry with him than with the fact that I was falling for it the every time. After about 2 minutes I was ready to just throw down the gloves and beat the shit out of him. I think that's when I started going after him a bit more aggressively, which made me stupid, and so I fell for even more of his boring front kicks. This kid actually had the nerve to make some comment about how I seemed kind of angry. Of course I'm angry you fucking asshole! Whenever I went in, he just backed up a few feet out of my range, and since I didn't feel like chasing him all over the fucking mat, I backed up so we could start this whole dance all over again. Did I mention that last week he hit me square in the face with a Superman punch? Now, I missed a few classes so maybe it was actually taught to him and he didn't just see it in a fight or in a movie, but really, why would you throw that out in a sparing session unless you were trying to just beat up on someone?

I'm really not trying to be a little girl about this whole thing, and I hate that I sucked so bad that I'm complaining about a few hard punches when I'm really just pissed at myself. I know I'll get better in time, and with more practice, but damn. Getting kicked in the sternum repeatedly sucks.