The last week has been a whirlwind! I travelled from upstate NY to Cincinnati. Then Cincinnati to Effingham. And then drove mom from Effingham to the airport in St Louis...and then drove back to Effingham. And then Effingham back to Cincinnati, where I now sit.
i need a job.
The problem is, I don't know what I want to do. Or where I want to live.
So, I went out for a run in the woods today to think about it. Some of my best thinking is done on runs. I started out thinking about the things I like to do...swim, bike, run, (duh) challenge the limits of the mind and body, motivate others, learn new things, calculate numbers and study statistics, discover and investigate, read, write...and that's where I got sidetracked. I was all "oh, maybe i can do some freelance writing..." which led to "dude, I should just write a book..." about??? "all the crazy ass men I've dated and the screwed up relationships in which I've been involved.."
I took a little trip down memory lane. Some of it was comical. And some of it was down right frightening. And a lot of it was heartwrecnching. But, man, you name the mental affliction, and I've probably dated it. I could devote a chapter to each: "the married man", "the heroin addict", "the sociopath", "the pathological liar", "the man who couldn't stay away from strip clubs", "the control freak", "the guy with an 8th grade education (and no, he wasn't 12)", "the bi-polar", "the megalomaniac", "the people pleaser", "the i-have-to-leave-because-i-have-to-do-something-spectacular-before-i-turn-30...in 3 days", "the one who wanted to save me", "the disappearing act"... oh, and more than one fits into "couldn't keep it in his pants". That's not to say I haven't screwed up. Because there are also "the one that got away", "the really nice guy" and about 100 poor schmucks that never got a real chance because I was still trying to find my way back to reality from any one of the aforementioned assholes. I mean, my ex and failed marriage could literally be a prologue...
So, I'm entertaining the idea when I look up and see a black cat. In the middle of the trail. Seriously. If that's not a bad omen, I don't know what is! Sheesh. I can't cut a break. Like, the other day, I finally gained the motivation to go to the pool and do my workout. As soon as I put my cap and goggles on, little sprinkles fell from the sky. I got in 750 before they kicked us out for lightning. I got in my car, drove to mom's and parked in front of the garage...and realized I needed to allow room to get her car out in the morning because we had to leave by 4am. And I sure as hell didn't want to be playing musical chairs with vehicles at that hour. So, I backed up. Straight. into. a. huge. oak. tree! Now, I don't care about my car, but my bike rack was on the back. And it's now in like 8 pieces. Ack said "that sucks". Um, yeah, story of my life.
Not really. I have a pretty good life. I'm just having a rough time with the lack of stability. And having to be dependent upon other people for a place to sleep at night. And I want to go out and ride when I want to ride. and run when I want to run.Aand for however long I feel. But that's not what will make me faster. So i'm having an internal struggle. About a lot of things.
And as I was daydreaming again, having forgotten about the little kitty, I tripped on a root and got splayed across the trail, water bottle projected into the brush and all. It was about five minutes later I decided I was finito. And I took my sweat dripping ass home. or to my current crash pad.
