Living a colorful life.
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
You can scroll the shelf using ← and → keys
…is me. I am every crayon in the box.
…is you. You are every crayon in the box.
Some days we are Burnt Sienna. Other days we are Purple Mountains’ Majesty. On good days we may be Razzle Dazzle Rose. On bad days we may be Screamin’ Green.
On happy days we could be Sunglow. On bad days we could be Unmellow Yellow. Pick your color. Make your choice – it’s all up to you.
Samantha Jones from the first Sex in the City movie, 2008, said:
I can’t color enough, I would color all day every day If I had my way, I would use every crayon in my box.
This blog is about Every Crayon in the Box. Be a color. Love a color. Live a color. Color your picture. Live life, laugh lots, and love.
Every October we are inundated with the color pink, and every year I say the same thing:
PLEASE PUT YOUR PURPLE ON for October’s National Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
I want to thank some friends from high school who shared a great article with me on Huff Post about Pinktober. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about doing whatever I can to support breast cancer cures, awareness and prevention, but it was refreshing to read from Leisha Davison-Yasol, a breast cancer fighter, that this month has come to be known as “Pinkwashing” in breast cancer circles.
To that I have to say, again: please, please please don’t forget that October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. You have a week left to WEAR PURPLE, the color for the respective cause.
Why is it so much easier to pinkwash than purplewash? I don’t find it so hard. See? The artwork I made for Chicago a couple of years ago demonstrates that a purple skyline is just as easy as a pink one this time of year:
It’s not that hard to put on purple, and it’s a much easier color to wear than pink, especially for men. That’s just my opinion.
Then I would add a version of Corinne Bailey Rae’s Put Your Records On and say (with her permission, of course):
PLEASE put your purple on
Tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams,
Just go ahead, let your hair down.
In other words: DON’T BE AFRAID. We’re aware of what you’re going through. There is help for you.
WE WILL BE THERE FOR YOU.
Seriously, for the past two years I have written about this important month in raising more awareness for domestic violence. I have shared my own personal story, actively promote LifeSpan, and while on ChicagoNow spent almost a whole entire month on that platform bringing in thoughts, ideas and others’ experiences such as Antonia’s story of leaving an abusive relationship and starting her own hair salon.
So you all have one more week to promote the OTHER major October-dedicated cause: National Domestic Violence Awareness. Please put your purple on at least once this month.
You’re going to find yourself somewhere, somehow.
I’m not any good at picking the winners of the show The Voice, but I like the contestants that demonstrate the most heart and soul in their singing.
This kid, Matthew Schuler, was just so happy to be on The Voice that he was just beaming from ear to ear even before the chairs almost immediately turned for him. He was so full of joy in singing Young the Giant’s “Cough Syrup,” a little ditty even though there’s zombies in the park waiting for his heart, I’d vote for Matthew Schuler in the battle rounds.
One more spoon of Cough Syrup now whoaaa…
Kid’s got pure talent and a heart of gold, whoaaa…
I wish every day I had an attitude of gratitude.
Alas, life can get you down and sometimes it’s hard to bounce back from the bottom. I ride the waves like everyone else but I have moments where I feel life is overwhelming; typhoon-esque.
So I reach out to my favorite social media friends and I ALWAYS take a look at Stop and Blog the Roses.
Stop and Blog the Roses is my number one favorite blog OF ALL TIME. From June 1, 2010 to May 31, 2011, Jennifer Fernicola Ronay recorded three things she was grateful for every single day for 365 days. She created 365 blog entries and therefore 1,095 things to be grateful for during that time. Jen continues to write at least 7 entries per month since then and reaffirms gratitude with every new entry.
Stop and Blog the Roses Tickles me Pink.
I wish I could write 3 things every day for which to be grateful. I’m not sure how much Jen realizes her influence on her fans but her recurring attitude of gratitude is PRECIOUS. I know it lightens my day. It takes the typhoon in my brain and turns it into a peek of sun through the clouds. It helps overwhelming feelings become more tolerable and gives me time to remember the important things in life.
The smallest things, even the most mundane, often are the most important and the most precious, Those three things for which Jen is grateful in every one of her entries can have the highest reward, remind of a very Tickle-one-pink’s moment in a life and to be thankful for the gifts one has to offer in this world.
Thank you so much, Jen, for Stop and Blog the Roses. Your attitude of gratitude tickles me pink. I am truly grateful to you.
(Please vote for her at babble.com as a top reader’s choice blogger. Give her the recognition she deserves!)
Unfortunately, I read your blog post about how your daughter was “rated” by a teenage boy on Facebook. You basically wrote an open letter to the “young man” who completed the action. The rest of your post went on about your own personal experiences as a teenager and how you grew up respecting women. BUT I know from first hand experience that you are not a nice man and you are not respectful to women. See D, you openly bashed me online, you did it more than once, and on your post you basically did the EXACT SAME THING to the teenager.
Are you proud that you strutted yourself and used a manly hammer to try and put a nail to this kid’s actions? Are you proud that you SLAMMED a teenager on your high traffic grabbing because it’s a Tribune- owned blog?
I have to say that MY Dad, a father to four, independent, grown women is rolling in his ashes right now. My Dad may have been angry as hell at the time but he would never openly bash a teenager for doing something stupid. Instead he killed with kindness.
D., you open your entry by saying: God forbid a complete stranger, who hardly knows anything about you, does something to hurt you that would be awful.
When you bashed me online you didn’t know me, at all. You did not take the time to understand what was going on with my story, with my pain. You were not my friend, you were a fellow grown-up blogger who wrote, just like me, on a Trib-owned platform. if I didn’t meet you once, I would consider you a stranger.
Yet you continue say to the teenager: Here’s a tip about women “young man,” being mean to them, is no way to get them to like you.
THAT WOULD BE VERY TRUE. For example, I am one who does not like you, D., and, to your point about consequences of people’s actions, you really caused some damage.
Women and girls put up with enough crap in their lives from men and other women, this type of bullying is the kind of thing that can crush a girl’s confidence and stay with her forever….
…Maybe someday when you are a “man,” and have kids, you will teach them what your parents forgot to teach you, respect for other people and their feelings.
Well thankfully I’m a grown-up and I don’t give a shit about the crap you threw at me BUT I do have to say this:
YOUR ADVICE? LAME.
How about writing something like this:
Well hey I was a shitty bastard and I still can be from time to time. I understand what you are going through, “young man” because my actions are still sophomoric sometimes. See how angry I am, “young man”? I’m going to hammer down my message to you on my high traffic grabbing, Tribune-owned blog . What do women do when they put up with enough crap in their lives? HELL IF I KNOW. Ask my wife.
Because you have NO CLUE what you are talking about, D.
LEAD BY EXAMPLE. Instead of calling out a “young man” and bullying him online, how about writing how you EMPOWERED your daughter and taught her how to be RESILIENT to bullies and / or teenagers such as this “young man”? How about saying that yes, it HURTS to be bullied and “rated” by some ignorant teenager but you KNOW your daughter is strong! She passed her own personal test by going through this and working through her own feelings!
How about telling her that her feelings WILL be hurt again, whether by a bully, another teenager, even a friend or a first love that may break her heart? How about that the hurt, although it seems painful at the time, will pass when it’s ready to and YOU WILL BE THERE FOR HER WHEN IT DOES? And finally, how about openly expressing that you LOVE HER?
Because, you see, D., to your point, crap like this DOES happen in women’s lives, ALL THE TIME.
Why not lead by example and not by some sick, manly strut your stuff, puff your chest “I know you and I know women”- type entry?
BECAUSE CLEARLY YOU DON’T KNOW WOMEN.
Bullies come in all sizes, D.A.D.
Lead by example, not by the hammer in your hand.
Today’s color is Fuzzy Wuzzy Brown, and it is for a very special friend.
I can not imagine what my friend is going through right now. She just found out her youngest son has a brain tumor. I saw her today and I could tell how overwhelmed she was with the shock of the diagnosis. We talked for a good hour and a half, and I wish I could just be her shoulder to cry on with a little more time.
One thing she expressed to me is how she would feel when her son came off the bus after school today. She didn’t have to say anything; I just knew. I told her (and I don’t know where it came from) that all of the routine things, the comfort things, are probably going to feel endearing for a while, and sad. Her son’s life is going to take a drastic change; THEIR life will, if only for a while (we all pray).
But I know my friend is strong. I know she is going through the Fuzzy Wuzzy Browns right now. Things are so overwhelming, so out of control and her poor son is going to have surgery to remove the tumor and possible radiation therapy…
WHAT THE F***. WHY??? WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE?
Her family is already saying “what are you going to do?” “Why haven’t you made a decision yet?”
She’s going through the Fuzzy Wuzzy Browns but she is so STRONG.
She’s already taken a brief moment for herself without even knowing it and I am so PROUD of her. Her instincts are on top and she is preparing herself and her family for the surgery. I see her, by Sunday, having a whole bunch of colors surrounding her and reducing the Fuzzy Wuzzy Browns, if only for a while.
She’ll be surrounded by Purple Heart, Blue Bell, Mountain Meadow and Wild Strawberry. And hopefully the family’s CaringBridge account will be up soon.
Please pray for my friend, her little boy and family. Pray for strength and hope.
This is going to be hard for me to write, and will probably be long.
Three years ago, after long hours training at my gym, I slipped and fell in the women’s locker room and slammed my head on the concrete floor. The gym was going through a major renovation, and the women’s locker room was next on the list. I was taking a shower post swim – I was training for my second ever sprint triathlon – and realized I didn’t get a clear plastic bag for my swim gear, which was part of my shower / post swim routine. I went to grab the bag which was located one shower stall away. I was naked except for my Crocs flip flops and my swim cap when BAM! I slipped and fell. It wasn’t just a land on naked ass kind of fall; it was a land on back side and my head snapped back and SLAMMED on that concrete floor.
I thought I was by myself in that shower area. Thank God I wasn’t. I couldn’t get up right away. I saw black. It took me a couple of minutes to get back up. Another swimmer was in that area and asked me if I was ok. Still out of it, I said “yes.” I think I was more shocked and humiliated that my naked body, with swim cap and Crocs flip flops still on was va jay jay front forward right before her eyes. I don’t remember her helping me get up; I probably was too stubborn for help but I went back to my shower stall. The next thing I I remember? I just started sobbing and couldn’t stop.
I don’t know why but I was crying hard and couldn’t stop. My head hurt, my backside hurt really badly. I remember someone else came over and told me the Manager on Duty couldn’t leave the front desk. Then I remember the MOD, whom I knew, finally came back, sat me down (I think I was at least in a towel by then) on the ledge in the shower stall and said I was lucky I had my swim cap on because I probably would have required stitches.
I don’t remember much after that except she couldn’t get a hold of my sister (emergency contact) to come get me. I don’t know if an accident report was filled out or if there was an option for an ambulance. I took a cab home. The next day I went to the hospital (no I don’t know why I waited; I was by myself) and yes, per the ER doctor, I definitely obtained a concussion at the gym the night before.
So you would THINK that the gym would reach out to me and ask me if I was OK. I was at that gym faithfully, I worked with a trainer for 18 months and I learned so much; I was passionate about what I learned from him and I was eager to learn more. My trainer wanted me at the gym five times a week and for his place of work to become my “second home” and it sure did; but what happened just a little over a week after the night I obtained the concussion blew me away.
A week or so after the concussion the health club’s Corporate HR Director wanted to speak with me. I was not really willing to have a call with her but I did anyway. I should have stuck with my gut because the below happened:
She was hostile on the call; she said “Don’t be cryptic” when I was trying to formulate words for this discussion. She told me that the club would review my hospital bills (I did not receive a contract – long story – to sign my life away in typical fitness club form), and then implied that I wanted to be intimate with my trainer, then fitness director…
…who told me about 9 months prior that he had a boyfriend.
I was absolutely shocked. I CALLED my trainer that evening post conversation with this HR Director (why would an HR Director want to speak to me about a concussion I don’t know) to ask him what happened and WHY on earth was this woman implying I wanted to be intimate with him. The trainer sent me a very bland email as a response – he told this woman that he was my trainer and nothing more, to which I replied and looped this HR Director into the email asking for an immediate apology.
I never got that apology.
I’ll add in the little fact that my trainer told me that his father was “recently unemployed” and just started a new trade association in the fitness industry. Why, pray tell, did I know this? My young trainer felt a need to tell me.
I was working with a 25 year old man, otherwise spoken for (ahem), whose father was with the industry since basically its inception. What made this worse for me is not only did I have this information but the HR director was a “30 year veteran” of said industry and the CEO of this health club chain was a “past president” of the same. Did I know that they had knowledge of what I was told of both my trainer’s personal and family history, by my trainer?
I couldn’t even imagine telling that HR Director, “but he’s gay!” that fateful day. Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have felt less heartbreaking.
Either way, I was so distressed. I didn’t know what to do next. I was still recovering from the concussion and I was exhausted. I was on autopilot going to that gym, which became my “second home.” I ended up sleeping and resting for a handful of days laying on the chaise lounges on the club’s sundeck. My trainer stopped talking to me, and I was still looking for answers. Finally, a month later, with no true answers and for various reasons I just quit that club.
LEAVING THAT CLUB FELT LIKE I WAS GRIEVING A HUGE LOSS.
So three years ago the above happened, and during that time even after leaving I was still searching for answers. Finally, I just started writing openly about it. I was told by some that I was victimized after explaining everything but then I was also openly blasted by a fellow blogger multiple times at the same time. When I saw how the community manager gave preferential treatment to this blogger, I knew my public blog was doomed.
I moved on from that blog in 2012 to here and tried very hard not to reference what happened. I wanted to persevere; I wanted to move forward and do more triathlons. I completed another triathlon in June last year and then…
I ran into a blast from the past, someone who was part of the course of fiascoes at that gym in 2010, someone whom I desired to never see again. I could write more about that but in terms of the content here: last summer, after the triathlon and running into this man I obtained lesions in my esophagus. I was so terrified that he was in my space again that my body decided to have a full on freak out.
When I obtained those lesions I knew that my past experiences were not put behind me. I knew this was a reaction to running into this man….
That’s when I found out, just months later, I have had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) for the past three years because of what happened at that gym, the concussion and how that organization treated me during that time – aka very poorly. And what’s worse, it’s permanently documented at the Better Business Bureau that I wanted a personal relationship with my gay trainer. No one did anything about it. No one corrected it. No one apologized for bad behavior. I felt so incredibly LOST.
But things started falling into place when I found out I had PTSD. I bought the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Sourcebook when I was diagnosed. Just a handful of pages into the book I was thinking “YES! THAT’s ME!” and I broke into tears multiple times. I found out this:
Speaking openly and then more openly after being blasted by that DB blogger was “outcry.” The continuous nightmares that I was having about the health club for two years and more sporadically now is part of the “intrusive-repetitive” stage. Those two stages also caused hyper-vigilance; I was consistently on guard for anything that might hurt me and went into times where I either prevented myself from enjoying regular activities or went into prevention mode to ensure that if I did those activities I would be protected.
The pushing through to continue triathlons last year was part of the denial stage and emotional numbing of the illness, and a need to persevere…until I ran into the man from the past and got the lesions.
And now? I still have the intrusive thoughts and sporadic nightmares. Since I’m past the emotional numbing (I think) I’ve become fearful of entering a gym. I’m afraid of allowing myself to be vulnerable to judgement for what happened and how I reacted. I still feel a lot of unwarranted guilt as well as fear and sometimes I’ll allow myself to feel anger about this process. My family has not been supportive and I’ve kept friends at a distance. But I feel another turn coming…
I can reflect on everything that has happened and I can stand further away from the experience, and I’m starting EMDR therapy to help work on my fears of being triggered by fitness equipment. I’m also working on building working relationships with people in the fitness industry and who have no intention of hurting me but are in a profession that COULD potentially cause harm to me. There’s no reasoning to any of that; I just know that the triggers are in a part of my brain that, with the right help, can dissipate.
All I want now is peace. I want the trauma put into the part of my brain where non-important memories lie, leaving the triggered space. I have been painting and drawing a lot lately – it provides relief. But I’ve had enough. Three years of this is too much, and MY GOD I miss swimming.
The point of my story?
I found out that you don’t have to be a football player or a wounded warrior to experience PTSD from a concussion. I’ve felt embarrassed for so long that my little story was not as “big” as those who have experienced PTSD under way more extreme conditions, but the truth is that PTSD is REAL and is a diagnosis that can assist many people who have experienced trauma.
And NO ONE should be told they were “victimized” by some and then openly blasted by others while enduring this.
SUPPORT is needed, LOSE THE HATE.
I hope to move forward soon. Thank you for reading.
I CAN NOT BELIEVE THIS.
Trending on Twitter and still going viral is #RIPLarryShippers, a hashtag about an alleged love affair between two male members of the boy band One Direction. HOWEVER, now not only does this hashtag symbolize the above but it is also about people committing suicide!
The above image from twitter is supposedly about 42 people who have committed suicide, all in the name of a boy band?
And it seems like this summer more 1st world young adults and teenagers are attempting suicide or have been successful at doing so.
WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON, FOLKS?
I can’t believe that One Direction’s Publicist isn’t putting an end to this #RIPLarryShippers. The One Directions band members need to send out a very loud PSA telling their fans to STOP THIS NONSENSE!
SUICIDE IS NOT A JOKE. It’s rampant in my family and thankfully it has not happened in about 10 years. I personally know what it’s like to be in deep dark places that seem never-ending but there’s always a point of return, even if it seems like there isn’t one.
People who are depressed don’t want to move, feel like they’re in a black hole, have no one to support them. They want to sleep, they want to self-medicate (including addiction #RIPCoryMonteith); anything that is passive and NOT active.
If you ever think about committing suicide because you feel like you have no way out, do one positive, non-harmful thing that is ACTIVE. That one thing can be anything! Here’s some ideas:
If you don’t want to leave your personal space:
ONE ACTION will help you continue and WANT to act on something positive.
If you can get outside:
And if none of those work for you, TALK.
Talking to a stranger over the phone can sometimes be more effective than talking to those you love. If that resonates with you,
Call: 1-800-273-8255 , the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
You know what I miss?
I miss having fun. I miss things like this:
I just spent 7 months of my life working my ass off. It was a giant waste of my time. In the first few months I brought in over 30% of the team’s goals for savings and by October I was to have over 50% of the team’s goal complete. You want to throw a Hail Mary pass to your wide receiver? Send it my way. I worked day and night. I worked weekends. I worked until 2 am.
I miss being happy and healthy! I have gained all my weight back. Does anyone remember what my life was like for an entire year starting March, 2009? History repeated itself this year. I have been sick, over and over again, sinus infections, tubes put in my ears by July. All I have wanted for myself for the past five years is simply to be healthy, and I screwed it up by being too diligent and caring about my job.
I’m a helper. I like to help people. I’m a go-getter, a risk taker. And apparently I will do this at the expense of my health. I was promised work / life balance. I said that was my number 1 goal. I was told my organization was a meritocracy, that it was ethical. NOPE.
I don’t even have kids so it’s not like I’m tired or exhausted from chasing around little ones. My “little ones” to chase are work pettiness, client cattiness, stupid stuff in the office over which I have no control.
I want to be happy and healthy. I need to keep putting the oxygen mask on myself first. I don’t know why I didn’t listen to what my body was telling me.
I have a rant. Sort of.
Many men have come and gone in my life. Some were friends, some were more than friends. Some I worked for, some worked for me. Some stayed around for a while, some left on their own accord. Some have left heartbreakingly, some have not.
Some I have annoyed; some annoyed the heck out of me. Some were abusive; some were sources of strength. Some helped me to become more resilient; some taught me what I don’t want in my life.
Overall, I prefer to interact with men who are stand-up guys.
A stand-up guy is a man of his word. He is honest, doesn’t beat around the bush, and knows when he doesn’t know. He’s helpful, decent, fair yet loyal to his family and friends, his cause, his objectives…
But most of all he has INTEGRITY.
An example of that, of course, was my Dad, whom I miss very much. Father’s Day is not easy even though I know he’s always with us. Dad was my #1 stand-up guy. He was a man of his word. He told it like it was. He was our rock, our foundation. He made sure the family was there and we celebrated milestones together.
My Dad was definitely a stand-up guy.
I don’t know. Maybe my standards are too high, but men that I meet – in business, in my personal life – I EXPECT for you to be genuine stand-up guys. If you’re not, you won’t get a lot of my time.
You don’t have to be straight, you don’t have to look a certain way, heck you don’t have to have a ton of money in the bank you just need to be a stand-up guy. Be respectful to others. Play the game that you need to play but my god don’t do it with slight of hand, don’t be a bottom dealer, IT’S JUST NOT ATTRACTIVE.
Say what you mean and mean what you say. Don’t be a cheat; it doesn’t help anyone, not even yourself. Don’t manipulate other people or walk all over them for your own personal gain; it will just bite you in the ass later in life. Learn to say “I don’t know” or “No” when asked for something you can’t provide because you know your limits.
And for f’s sake, APOLOGIZE when you can’t own up to your words, WE ALL APOLOGIZE, and it’s never too late. Be real, not fake and please…
Show me a stand-up guy and I’ll show you a leader. Show me a stand-up guy and I’ll show you pictures of my Dad. Show me a stand-up guy and I’ll show you a REAL MAN.
Thank you for reading my rant. THANK YOU, DAD, for helping me to raise my standards, even still.
I’ve completed a handful of sprint triathlons. Considering that I’m a garden variety nerd who got D’s and C’s in Physical Education, it’s pretty amazing that I like triathlons in my early 40′s.
It went something like this:
I’m freezing cold, standing in my swimsuit in a sea of anxious women. I’m in “wave 14,” waiting to start the triathlon with the swim at Centennial Beach. I don’t want to stand here I just want to start the freaking swim.
My wave is with women all age 40.
I AM NOT 40 YET! Oh…
Neither is the girl next to me – her birthday is in October.
Our wave is now next to start the swim. As we slowly enter the water there’s a collective moan. Then the announcer comes on we pseudo cheer on our wave.
SWIM. I put myself in the middle of the pack. I AM SWIMMING OVER PEOPLE. I am swallowing water. I can’t see anything but legs. I AM STUCK IN A BUNCH OF LEGS. I CAN’T DO THIS.
YES I CAN!! THIS IS SO STUPID!!! These ladies can’t swim! Swim around them, just go. Go go go. Walk around the buoys in the shallow areas then swim again.
OK 3 more turns, 2, 1, DONE. Out of the water…
Run run run to the transition area. Ok don’t run, walk fast.
Transition area – yes my shorts. Ok here are my socks, shoes, DAMN it’s taking me a long time to tie these shoes on.
BREATHE. Put on your freaking helmet. Pull your bike off the rack, grab GU and tear off the top. Stick it in your mouth and get going.….
Get to area where you must mount your bike. DAMN!!!! That’s where your chip gets marked for the next round? I just spent too much time in the transition area! Oh well. Go go go!
BIKE. On the bike. Revved up. Pumping. I’m so pumped up…
OH NO. I’m singing to myself: “da da da…da da da… da da da da da da…” Oh no. The ‘Hawks just won the Stanley Cup, that DAMN SONG!!! Oh well…”da da da…da.da da…da da da da da da…” Now I’m singing it out loud! Now I’m telling someone I’m singing it out loud!
Ok damn I can’t get my freaking water bottle out of the cage. Just keep going. Ok I sort of got it now but I totally lost my speed. What do I do? Ok put it sort of back in the cage just not completely to its bottom and it will come out faster.
…..OK YES I KNOW YOU HAVE A FASTER BIKE THAN MINE!!!…..
So I’m still thirsty and I’m going as fast as I can, on my mountain bike, no idea how fast but I’m not tired. It’s not hot out as expected either.I’m getting close.
Ok when I get to the transition area I do this and this….…
Running. You know it’s the worst part for you. Get your helmet off, your shirt on and your baseball cap on. Grab GU and run to the next chip checking thingy.
Ok walk to the next chip checking thingy.
Ok you’re there. Walk the planned walk to warm up your muscles for running. Visualize the muscles warming up. Ok you’re at the point where you start running, as planned.
RUN.….Wait no I can’t! Look at all these ladies walking! They can’t then I can’t…
NO you’ve practiced this. Remember what Mac said “SLOW AND STEADY WINS THE RACE.”
Remember what he taught you when he made you run up and down the top of the parking garage ramp. Remember Lactate Threshold and the feeling you get when you start sweating. You have to pass that 1/2 mile warmup before you get into that stride. Garage ramping, threshold, breathe, you’re fine.
OOOH – my legs are warming up! I’m running! Cool, this is working! Run run run! OK I can do this. I’ll be fine.
Look at me, I’m flying!!
Oh crap. This lady now running next to me is complaining; she can’t believe she still has to keep going! Oh no I can’t keep going, either. Wait. No, I just have to run past her.
Now I’m pissed. Run, damn it!
OK I’m almost at the end. People’s families are around and there watching me pitifully run. Oh no I’m scared I should stop running.
NO JUST KEEP GOING TO THE FINISH!!! YOU’RE ALMOST THERE!!……Run run run in the grass.
THERE IT IS! THE FINISH!!! I FINISHED!!
Take chip off of me, by my ankle person.
I’m freaking done. I’m done…. done! I’m done. Ok grab your finisher’s medallion and a banana, lots of water.……You’re done. You’re done. Look at all these people and families cheering them on. Look at that T-Shirt that the husband is wearing: “I DON’T DO TRIATHLONS I DO A TRIATHLETE.” How funny!
Ok walk back to your bike, back to the transiton area. Yes, Mr. and Mrs. NOYB Spectators, I’m fine. Back at the bike…
Wait, THAT’s IT?? THAT’S REALLY IT? IT’S ALL OVER??? WHAT???
Got a first triathlon story? Ever go beyond your comfort zone and do something that your 9 year old self would never see coming? Do share, please!