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Thursday, January 1, 2015


Out with the old, in with the new.
I alluded to this in my last post, but I will say it out loud and proud right now: I'm riding the Crazy Train, and it's 13.1 miles of fucked up track. What that cryptic statement translates to is: I'm on week 4 of a 24 week training program which will culminate in my weary ass collectively running 13.1 miles with many other passengers on said Crazy Train- better known as a Half Marathon. Why, you may ask, would I put myself through the rigours of 6 workouts a week, for 24 weeks, only to run along side several other folks who are crazy enough to push themselves to collectively run from point A to point B thirteen point one miles away with absolutely no promise of a bag of fifties waiting for them at the end?

Well, for lots of reasons, none of which are exciting or new. Personal demons, personal challenges, the proverbial Bucket List. Yada yada yada. Deeper Into the World, right? Basically, I feel called to do this, so here I am, a month into Doing It. I didn't wait for any special time, didn't wait for the New Year, I'm doing it one small step at a time. I've been learning a lot about making small forward progress.

I think this will be the year of coming to terms with the Non Exciting Not So New Gently Used and Unspecial Life- and being OK with that. It's the year that I run along side many others, all running towards a somewhat meaningless goal of a finish line, all for our own reasons. Something in me feels that if I can even get through this training that I've won. Every time I complete a workout, fuck, every time I even break through the brick wall of apathy and get out of my head enough to get out there I. HAVE. WON.

There's all this talk in the group that I'm training with (with the awesome Nicole Antoinette of a Life Less Bullshit, many thanks to Portia) about music or no music? Music, for me, pushes me further. It constantly repeats in my ear to keep going, own that shit, be in my Self in that moment and celebrate the vibrant, dynamic, fluidity of my 39 year old body. Music is my own little cheering section and I've broken through many an obstacle because of the right mix. I, for one, will be listening to music (in a safe way) for most of my runs. I don't really care about etiquette or how it might affect my performance as an athlete- for me, music gets It done.

Lately I've been using Podrunner mixes along with a celebration song at the end to reward myself for completing my workouts. My Celebration Song has always been just for me, and I let myself choose whatever the hell I want to hear in that moment. Since I've been doing this training I keep coming back to the same song to celebrate with: Michael Jackson's "You Can't Win" from the Super Soul musical The Wiz. I know the movie was kind of a bust, but it's been embedded in my life since I was a child and the music was catchy and fun. This song, mixed with the endorphin high of a good run, and the projection of my personal story onto it's lyrics, is a cocktail so strong that it aligns all the planets of my being, opening the fifth dimension of Don't Fuck With Me I'm A Glowing Ray of Light and Power. Hearing that song at the culmination of a workout gets me so pumped up that I'm dancing like a fool down the street saying Fuck Yes! to life, ready for any mountain lion or ninja hiding in the bushes to challenge me. They would most certainly would run from my sheer force of EndorphineFunkCelebration.

It might sound strange that a song about not winning would loft my spirits so much. Well, I identify with Scarecrow at this moment. Meta picture: Scarecrow, the representation of apathy, restrained by his own insecurity, slowly breaks away from his shackles of fear. He's forced to sing, by the Crows (his demons, addictions, Inner Critics) the same old song, over and over, until it becomes a mantra that holds no meaning, like words that lose all meaning once repeated over and over. It's at that moment that he starts to beak free. The lyrics are not his words, they're an anthem to a state of being that he is waking up from. He's hovering on the edge, he's reached the precipice, and is just about to realize that he can win. My mother would tell me I'm thinking too much, that sometimes a Werewolf in London is literally just that, but I like the story I made up better.

You can't win
You can't break even
And you can't get out of the game
People keep sayin'
Things are gonna change
But they look just like
You're stayin' the same
You get in
way over your head
And you only got yourself to blame
You can't win Child
You can't break even
And you can't get out of the game
You can't win
The world keeps movin'
And you're standin' far behind
People keep sayin'
Things'll get better
(Just to ease your state of mind)
(So you lean back, and you smoke that smoke)
(And you drink your glass of wine)
Say you can't win, Child
You can't break even
And you can't get out of the game
You can't win, you can't win no way
If your story stays the same
(You ain't winnin'),
No, no,
(But it's nice to see you)
(I'm awfully glad you came)
(Better cool it 'cause
It ain't about losin')
And the world has got no shame
You can't win, Child
You can't break even
You can't get out of the game
You can't win
You can't break even
Ain't the way it's supposed to be
(You'll be spendin'),
No, no
(Your little bit of money)
While someone else rides for free
(Learn your lesson), ooh,
(Refuel your mind)
(Before some turkey blows out your flame)
You can't win, Child
You can't break even
You can't get out of the game

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