Archive for July, 2013

Mutual Understanding

I did something very difficult today. But it had to happen.

The feeling of worthlessness was beginning to be too much. Smiles were becoming more intermittent, puffy eyes and tears an all too common sight.

His take on it was different. I’m not focused. It was that simple.¬†Obviously a mutual understanding.

But to give him the benefit of the doubt, he hinted at me having some redeeming qualities, and he related to my feelings of frustration. ¬†“Five minutes of his time” turned into a much longer discussion.

Now I’m faced with the resignation letter. What is it that I have to say? Do I completely jump ship or do I gradually fade away?

My knee jerk reaction is to take the jump. But that is unlike me.

Perhaps that is why it is so tempting.


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When DNF Is Victory

I’m not a quitter; quitting is not in my nature. When I start something, I have to finish it. I have to do it all the way. There is no other way.


Perhaps my will to continue despite the circumstances is why I am where I am today.

But is this a good place? Is this where I want to be?

The answer is no, not completely.

So instead of continuing to fight this battle, I will step down and let others step in. I will not finish what I started.

It does not matter what others think or say. My DNF is victory today.

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Perhaps I suffered a record-long bout of writer’s block; nothing of interest to expound upon, years older but not wiser, apathetic with life’s daily events.

More likely, however, life threw me for a loop. We did, after all, move away from sunny Santa Barbara to the Rocky Mountains, eventually landing in Laramie, Wyoming. Yup, the wild, wild west at its finest, where the winters are long, the wind is incessant, and the people are few. Along with the new environment came new challenges: a new job, new friends, a new (old) house, and as if a metaphor fall all these new challenges, new athletic pursuits.

(Now brace yourself because I’m about to say something that might shock you.)

I’m not a runner anymore. I no longer fall asleep at night reliving each corner of the running track or wake up each morning to lace up my shoes with the goal of making myself more quick and agile on two feet. My calluses have faded, my hamstrings have weakened, and my running shorts are out of style.

But I am still the same Annie, perhaps more Annie than ever before. I’m still mentally ill in the minds of many, sensing pleasure in what most perceive as suffering. I expect the worse only to experience the best, and I still dream big.

Perhaps that is why I caught the cycling bug. Certainly years of running made me susceptible to it but I think it goes deeper than that. I’ve always needed an outlet of some kind, a non-verbal way to express feeling of frustration, anger, love and joy. So from here on out, or until I sell myself to some other sport, my blog entries will most likely be about cruising around on two wheels. Or, more accurately, powering up mountain climbs, cornering at high speeds, or descending gloriously down mountain passes. Ah, the thrill, the freedom. Will it never end?

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