This was written on Tuesday.

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I’ve biked today already. I believe it was Thursday when I got a ride home from Zane due to the rain. Since then the bike as been sitting at school, alone and forgotten, out in the cold. Abandoned.

 

Ok… it’s probably not as bad as all that, but I didn’t like having the bike gone for so long in a place I couldn’t keep an eye on it. Friday I didn’t want to bike so I could be as fresh for the race as possible. It was also a pretty icky day if I remember right. Icky as in super cold and windy.

 

Saturday was the race, and then Sunday / Monday I was so sore I was surprised I made it to the living room much less anywhere else. The plans for Seaworld on Sunday didn’t happen, but both Zane and I were ok with that.

 

I have a lot to write about. I think. Maybe it just feels like a lot inside my head.

 

Friday was CRI1 lab. I don’t remember much happening. Zane picked me up and we had sushi for dinner. I remember going to sleep sort of, kind of early. I remember asking John to turn his music down because he was packing up more of his stuff and being sort of loud about it.

 

Good news on that front, he’s actually moving out a week early. Huzzah. That means there will be time to clean up the room before moving all of our stuff into it. I want to steam clean the carpets, bleach out the bathroom, stuff like that. I’ll most likely be getting a Uhaul to move the things from the storage unit over to the apartment. We’re going to have to keep the storage unit for a month longer than I thought we would because Trevor and Danielle aren’t moving out until halfway through March. I’m going to see if Trevor will pay for it, or at least half, since none of my stuff will be in there any longer. Or maybe we can stash all of his boxes in a corner in the living room. There’s going to be the space for it with all of John’s crap gone.

 

We’ll see how it all plays out and what room is where. It would be really nice to not have to drop another $150 on it.

 

Saturday was a rough day emotionally. I wrote about it in my previous Musing Moment. It didn’t help that my introvert was still frazzled from not getting any space. The apartment was, in my opinion, trashed, work was being itself, and then on top of it all, all of the anxiety I had been ignoring was suffocating me.

 

Zane helped talk me through some of it, but I didn’t talk to him about my feelings about Warren and the nearly crippling fear of not being able to complete the race. I’m good about ignoring things like that until I can’t any longer. In fact, I don’t think I would have actually identified what was bothering me if Zane hadn’t made the comment, “You know what all of this is? This is fear. You’re scared of your race.”

 

Irrational Brain: Fuck you! I am not! /secretly inside of head wonders how he knows

 

I was scared. That cold, sinking, pit of your stomach scared where you look at some impossible task that you’ve never done before, that you’re underprepared for, that you know everyone is going to do better than you, type of scared. And all the while I had this image of Warren #2 inside my head with the smirk he would always get when he knew he was right. His, “I told you so,” smirk or complete arrogance.

 

David never got back to me, and I knew this type of event wasn’t something Zane would enjoy. We actually spent a while talking about that as well. Did I want him to go with me?

 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there. It was that I knew it wouldn’t be a good time for him, and so knowing that he wasn’t enjoying it would make me not enjoy it. It would bother me and I would feel bad and that would sort of mess everything up. So no, if given the choice I would rather he stay home and enjoy his day and I would be back whenever I was done doing my thing.

 

We hugged and cuddled and he let me essentially verbally vomit all over the place, talking about random things as they came into my head. Thoughts that were part of the tangle, but not really admitting to the real knot inside.

 

When I left the apartment I drove to the gas station to fill up the car, then to school to get a few water bottles from my stash. I saw one of my students in the parking lot. I haven’t seen her since before the holiday break, so we chatted for a bit, exchanging epic car trouble stories since that was part of her holiday adventure.

 

It was a good conversation and it helped even me out a little. Then I was off, driving to the race location. Past the exit for Universal Studios. Past Seaworld. Past Disney. I was directed to park my car in a muddy field. The thought of my car getting stuck was very real as I saw a Jeep having to get towed out of its own plight. Not cool… but I could worry about that afterwards. At that moment my biggest thing was getting checked in since I only has about 20 minutes before my wave was supposed to start.

 

I walked about a quarter mile to the entrance. Maybe more. You never think about that, how it’s not just the original distance of the race, there’s all this extra stuff that you have to do before hand. All of this walking around, checking in, getting stuff situated. I bet if you count all of that it’s more than a 5k, but no one ever does.

 

I got my ID checked and got my wristband. Awesome. I’m allowed to get smashed whenever I want now. The thought of drinking before the run was also very real. Maybe that would make me less of an angry, rage filled mess.

 

I didn’t though. Instead I went to the St. Jude tent because I knew where that was. The women I spoke with was so amazingly nice. Rebecca. I’ll never forget her. She helped explain what I needed to do when I asked, explaining that I could leave my stuff with her while I went to get my package. So that’s what I did. I got my first ever racing tag. And I will most likely keep it in my “special” box along with the wrist band I still have from when I went rock climbing for the first time. And paintballing. I still have the wristband from the Dash as well. So many things to hold onto at the moment.

 

I pined the tag to my shirt, then walked over to where people were gathering for the race. I’m pretty sure I as in the 12 o’clock wave rather than the 11:30, but no one was checking for proper times. It seemed like a “run when you want” sort of thing. No real order to it.

 

I was standing by myself, moving around a little as it got closer to the start time. The woman behind me tapped my shoulder and asked me about my shoes. I was wearing my old ones, the bright blue ones with yellow accents. The first pair of Vibrums I ever ran in. This was their last run. The shoes that started it were going to end it as well. I thought it was fitting.

 

I explained how I loved the shoes, how they’re the most comfortable brand I’ve ever worn, and answered all of her questions. It was a nice, normal conversation, and another thing that helped ease over the tension. The fear.

 

There was a guy off to the side, the announcer, on a stage type setup with a microphone. There was techno-dance type music playing with a nice solid beat. There was good energy even though it was cold and overcast with a 100% chance of rain later.

 

Finally there was the countdown, all of us counting, and then cheering as flames erupted at the starting line and we started to shuffle forward.

 

It was a lot like the blog post I had read. There were so many people that you couldn’t run at first, and then, when there was space, you could only jog, sort of. I didn’t go through the first puddle, but that was the only one I skipped because I had gone a slightly different route to avoid the mass of people, only to realize the group I was following were going off the official track.

 

I ran most of the way to the first obstacle. It was harder running on the muddy, uneven ground. It was nothing like the treadmill, and nothing like the track at the gym. The realization of how much different gives me ideas for altering my training habits. But regardless, I was happy that the first mile flew by, literally. I feel like I did really well on it, especially for not running for almost three weeks.

 

The first obstacle was to swim. Yep. In the middle of winter, get completely drenched then continue on for over half the race in soaking, heavy, wet cloths. The water was so incredibly cold. The shock of it made it hard for me to breathe at first, but I didn’t stop to think about it, or to warm up. I kept going, swimming the short distance to the raft we were supposed to climb over. As I jumped into the water on the other side my bandana came off. I almost lost it in the dark, murky water, but was able to grab it in my hand some how. I warped it around my wrist instead of putting it back on. I figured it would be a wasted effort with how much I was going to be moving around. I walked / ran through the rest of the race, the closer to the finish line, the more walking due to the tightness along my calves. I’m happy that it wasn’t shinsplint pain like I thought it would be. The mud was actually really gentle to run in, just used more to maintain balanced on the uneven ground.

 

There was only one obstacle that I was scared of, and even then it was only for the second half of it. There was a ramp, a tall one, which we had to use a rope to climb over. Going up was “easy”. I had never done anything like it before, but I got to stand and wait my turn, which let me watch other people. It didn’t seem so bad and my arms didn’t feel shot yet, so I felt like I would be able to do it. And I did.

 

But then I had to get down the other side, basically sort of like repelling. I wasn’t ok with that. I didn’t like not being able to see where my feet were going and having to lean back and have faith that I wouldn’t lose traction in my feet, or that my hands would slip and I would fall backwards onto the ground. It was basically having blind faith in myself, in my body, and I’m ashamed to say that while I was at the top, I didn’t have it. I couldn’t do it.

 

I ended up sliding slowly down to the first notch on my stomach instead of walking backwards. I needed something more solid, more stable feeling under my feet first. Once I was on the first notch I leaned back and made it the rest of the way down correctly, the rope solid in my hands, the ramp firmly under my feet.

 

I was glad I was alone at that point because as I walked away from the obstacle I had a little mini breakdown of terror. I had passed a few other people on different obstacles who were having a hard time with the heights. A woman was crying on one of them as I passed her.

 

Maybe I should have said something, but I looked with a bit of detachment. I understood her fear, but at the same time I didn’t. It wasn’t until I got to “my” obstacle and I fully understood the fear some people were having to work through. And as I walked away from the ramp I let myself make the scared little noises of fear that I had swallowed and refused to utter while I was around other people.

 

I wanted to cry, so bad. But instead of focusing on the fear constricting my lungs, slicing through my veins, I focused on the facts.

 

I had made it over the stupid thing. I even made it down. Without help. I was a motherfuckin’ bad-ass. There wasn’t a reason to cry or feel scared. It was in the past. Just like everything else. I had been scared and I made it through it and there wasn’t anything left to do expect keep moving forward. So I did. And the further away I got from that obstacle the less scared I felt, the less I wanted to fall to my knees and wrap my arms around myself and sob due to all of the emotions inside of me.

 

There were signs throughout the race for motivation. One of them said, “We wish you had trained, too.” Another was “100% gluten free mud,” The best one for me was “If only your ex could see you now.”

 

And as I crawled under the barb wire of the last obstacle, muddy, wet, tired, and crossed over the finish line about an hour after I had started, I didn’t think about Warren, or anyone. I had one single, very selfish thought.

 

I did it.

 

I did it. Me. My effort. My body. My mind. I was the one who took every step on that track. I was the one who didn’t stop. I was the one who repelled down that ramp and kept going even as people from later waves pasted me, running as if the track was nothing. I had earned this. I had accomplished this. I was awesome and fuck anyone, everyone, who even had so much of a whisper of a thought otherwise.

 

I did it.

 

I was given a medal by a young boy, around 11 or so, and congratulated. I smiled as wide as I could as I thanked him. A girl handed me a protein shake as I walked past, another thank you exchanged. And I stood off to the side, alone, wearing my medal, drinking my shake, and allowed myself the time needed to integrate that moment, that fact, into my identity.

 

I’m Jennifer. I have blue eyes and brown hair. I am a teacher. I am a student. I ran a Warrior Dash on February 6^th, 2016. I didn’t let my ex win. I didn’t like my inner demons win. I set out to do something, and I did it. I am capable of greatness and the only person who ever truly stands in my way is myself.

 

I walked back to the St. Jude tent, mildly surprised that I was able to, more surprised at how not sore some of my body was. I knew the real test would be Sunday morning though. Rebecca was there and asked me how it went. I beamed and said that I felt I had done fantastic. I sat at one of the benches, taking my shoes and compression sleeves off. I sat for a while, drinking the rest of my shake when Rebecca came over to me.

 

“You look miserable,” she said.

 

…. #introvertProblems…

 

I explained that I was fine. Just soaking it all in. The subject of my race came up and how this was my first one. Ever. First anything race let alone a mud obstacle 5k. She’s the one who took the picture of me in front of the St. Jude sign. I got her contact information because she was telling me about other events that St. Jude is involved in. There’s going to be a 5k in September for the Orlando area that I might set my sights on. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.

 

I showered once I had finished taking the pictures. Rebecca took one to put on the website. I’m going to keep an eye out for that as well. Just to see.

 

I had a food voucher for raising the money that I did, so I got to eat as well. When I got back to the tent it was raining. I had left my stuff on the table, which was now being used by other people to eat. I apologized for my stuff being in the way, moved it, and then asked if I could join the table to eat.

 

One of the guys seems pretty surprised that I asked but said, “Of course,” and gestured in front of him. I sat and listened to the conversation for a while until one of the other guys pulled me into the conversation, asking me what I had gotten from the food stand, which was wings with fries, and my free beer, because I earned that free beer damnit. I guess I should mention that I only drank half of it, because it’s still beer and gross, but still. I partook of the beer-ness. /flex

 

The conversation was awesome. The two guys I guess are neighbors and have known each other for years. They were older, mid thirties-ish. We talked about the race, and different races they have done. One of the guys had been in the army and asked about my hoodie. I was wearing the one I got from my younger brother’s graduation from bootcamp, so I explained about that and how he was stationed in Germany at the moment.

 

It was a really awesome conversation with really awesome people. When they got up to leave one of them gave me a fist bump and congratulated me on my first race. I don’t know why, but that completely made the whole day for me. More than the medal, more than the pictures. More than the dinner I had with Zane afterwards. A fist bump from a complete stranger is what made me feel validated.

 

I stayed a bit longer since it was drizzling a bit still, but eventually I was done with it all and headed back to my car. I didn’t get stuck on the way out. Woohoo!

 

When I was back in civilization and with phone service I messaged Zane to let him know I was on my way home. I also checked Facebook. I had made a post before leaving the school saying that I was about to run my first Warrior Dash. I had so much support on the post. Almost everyone had liked it, and several people had commented wishing me luck and telling me to let them know how it went. One of my friends even emailed me saying she didn’t have my phone number otherwise she would have sent a text, but that she wanted to make sure I knew she was wishing me good luck.

 

I posted my St. Jude picture as well, saying that I had crushed it like a bawce. And I keep using that word crushed because of one of my blogging buddies. Ally had read a previous post of mine and left a wonderful comment where she said she knew I “would crush it!”

 

It was thoroughly crushed. And I’m making sure everyone knows it.

 

I got home around 5pm after having to drive through crap-tastic traffic and more rain. That’s alright though. I was surprised at how tired I was after leaving the race. It’s going to be something I keep in mind for next time. I almost pulled over to sleep I was so tired, but the desire to get home was stronger.

 

Zane and I went out for wings after I had showered again.

 

I had gotten a participation shirt for free with my registration, along with an official Warrior Dash fuzzy Viking helmet. But there was also a merchandise tent. I got a “completer” t-shirt, along with a hoodie. I had asked if I could try the hoodie on before I bought it, but I wasn’t allowed to do that, so instead I asked if I could touch it. Softness test, you know?

 

It’s amazing. I love that hoodie, so much. I’ve been wearing it sort of non-stop since my second shower after the race. It’s the one I’m wearing in my “warrior feast” picture. There’s the Viking helmet icon on the back of the sweater.

 

I totally did not need another t-shirt or hoodie, but I don’t care because they’re both awesome.

 

After eating we came back home. We stayed up for a little bit, but eventually I went to sleep.

 

I was so sore when I got up on Sunday. Words cannot do justice to the feelings of soreness I felt. I didn’t even know you could be sore I those places. I didn’t even know those places existed.

 

So I spent most of Sunday morning in bed doing nothing, or, when I actually got up the gumption to move, sitting in the chair in the living room, doing nothing. It was fantastic.

 

Since the Seaworld plans were off Zane and I decided to do dinner and a movie later in the evening to avoid the Super Bowl party at the apartment. Hannah was having issues with her roommate so she ended up tagging along with us in the evening.

 

During the day Zane and I watched Kung Fu Panda one and two, so we could see three that night. Normally I’m not one for watching hours of TV but Sunday I had no problem with it.

 

We went to Moe’s for dinner. It wasn’t awesome, which was mildly disappointing, but overall dinner was ok. The movie was cute and I’m glad I went to see it. There were a few really powerful moments in it, but I think the first movie will always be my favorite.

 

When we got back to the apartment the game was still going. Zane was getting pissed because it was loud and obnoxious and there were several people there he didn’t like. We ended up going to school and hanging out in the break room, but not before having a spat which made me feel like the night was going to be a complete disaster.

 

It sucked. We talked though it. I explained how school was a safe space for me, and that I didn’t want that feeling messed up. While we were in the break room we talked about my race and I finally admitted to the feelings about Warren. It was a pretty intense conversation. I’m glad I had it though. Speaking the words helped get them out. We spent most of the time talking.

 

Around midnight we went back home, hoping by then everyone had sobered up and left. They had. Awesome. The kitchen was a disaster. Zero fucks. Zane and I went to sleep almost instantly. Both of us exhausted.

 

We didn’t wake up earlier enough to get bagels, but we’re ok with that. Instead we got ready and he dropped me off at work on Monday. I didn’t have to be in until 1pm, but I didn’t have the bike, not that I would have ridden anyway with how sore I still was. But I knew that meant my day was going to be insanely long. I didn’t get enough sleep, plus I was sore, plus I was going to have to be around people way longer than I should be. Plus I didn’t have lunch because we hadn’t done grocery shopping, mostly because there was so much beer in the fridge that there wasn’t space for anything else like food.

 

Monday was going to be hard no matter what, so I just sort of accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be “at my best” and to do the best I could with that.

 

I survived. I got a bowl of soup from Crisper’s on my break. I saw Steve for the first time in forever and got to talk to him about the meeting for 3D Blitz and how it’s most likely never going to happen again. He said he was sorry, and I know he means it. I know that he loved 3D Blitz just as much as I did, so I know he genuinely feels sorrow over this.

 

He thanked me for the two events that we had, and that it had meant a lot to him. The whole event was based around his class. I made it as a way to say thank you to him. His class was the first time I had ever done anything with computer animation. His class literally was my foundation. And I’ve told him that. He’s the foundation for so many people. I hate that this was taken away from us.

 

I’m glad we were able to talk, even if it was for a short time. He gave me a hug as he thanked me. I wish there was more I could do. Maybe one day I’ll figure it out as I’m daydreaming.

 

Zane picked me up after work. I had a can of soup with some toast when we got home. I wasn’t up for going out or grocery shopping. He had his leftover nachos from the victory feast. I went to sleep pretty early. He woke me up when he came to bed. Not cool. I was grumpy about it but thought it would be ok. That is until the cats decided that they didn’t want to go to sleep and would rather bat at the door like doochbags.

 

That led to a bit of snipping from Zane, to which I didn’t even put in effort. I took my pillows and blanket and went to the couch. I know he wanted me to sleep with him, but I wasn’t going to be able to with emotional discord between us and I didn’t have it in me to smooth it over. I needed sleep. Not wanted. Needed. Nothing else was going to be able to happen until that need was taken care of.

 

This morning has been pretty awesome. Zane’s first words were to apologize for last night not working. He said he had tried everything to get all of us, cats included, to sleep together. There was food and water in the room, so they shouldn’t have wanted to go back out. I explained how my leaving wasn’t personal. At last I think I did. I might make sure later that we’re still good.

 

I had breakfast of toast and part of my coffee before changing into biking stuff. Zane was already dressed for work. He dropped me off at school, and I biked back home since I don’t have to be to work unto 5pm tonight. And so far that’s been my morning. Along with an hour or so worth of writing.

 

I’m not as sore today. And I’m going to be biking roughly 10 miles, so I feel like today is going to be an alright day as far as workout goes. I’m going to be working on some homework, and grading 5 projects for Clavan since he never got around to doing that. If he hasn’t already done it this morning. He asked for David or I to do for him when he stopped by in lab last night. I told David I would take care of it, and I plan to. I just don’t know if Clavan would have gotten impatient and done it already. Hopefully not.

 

But yeah. Trying to take today easy. Stay at home as much a s I can. Not be around people. Do the stuff I want to do. Go to lab. Come home. Grocery shop. Zane is supposed to be doing the meals this week. I only need tuna and water for my lunches. A loaf of bread would be nice for my breakfast sandwiches. But that’s about it. The rest of it is up to him.

 

I’m going to go for now. After 9 pages of writing I really don’t feel like being in front of the keyboard anymore.