It is officially August, and I could not be any happier!
The light at the end of the (epidemiology) tunnel is FINALLY here, and I am this.damn.close to turning in my final epidemiology critique. It’s taking every last ounce of focus in my body to sit down and bust out one last read-through of my paper before I turn that baby in. I’m so ready to just be done with this class. And you know what happens once I hit that submit button?
Well, at least for the next 10 days. Then my next two classes start up. But it will be a glorious 10 days (even if I am working). So I’ll take it!
This past weekend has been lots and lots of (school)work, [sprinkled with a little bit of play, of course. One of my best friends from Furman got engaged last week, and he and his fiancé, Tarryn, and his old roommates were all in town over the weekend. Happiness!]
Anywho, back to my story. I woke up Friday morning super peeved at the world.
Ryan had the day off of work, and I was completely jealous that he had 3 full days to do anything his little heart desired. Of course, I was not thinking about how much the fella deserved his day off , or how many hours of hard work he logs at the office every single week. And I definitely was not thinking about how lucky he was to have to have a 3-day weekend leading into his birthday-week.
Nope. Didn’t even cross my mind. (He seriously picked a winner of a girlfriend, don’tcha think?)
Instead, all I was thinking about was how much I wish I could be him… have an awesome job I adore for all the right reasons. A job that’s fulltime, salaried (!!) and with benefits (ohmylawd, I can’t even comprehend what that would be like). Sometimes… I wish I was all nice and settled into my career job, cruising along in the work-force like the typical 25-year old.
I truly do dream of the day that I’ll be able to come home from work and have a schedule free of schoolwork. I know that day will come, and when it does, I’ll have that career I’ve been aiming for since I started at Furman, and even more. Until then, I’ll just keep truckin’ along. (Again, let me reiterate that I only feel like this way on occasion… aka, during times of high-stress, like ahem, finals).
Anywho, getting back to the point of this post…
I awoke Friday morning donning my LittleMissBitchyPants crown and decided it’d be the perfect time to pound out the pavement for my 11-mile training run for the weekend.
I tell ya, running is like crack (okay right. Like I would know). So scratch that…
Running is like therapy.
I seriously got back from my run and felt so much better about life. There’s nothing like spending time with your own thoughts to gain perspective on what truly matters.
And there sure as hell isn’t anything like sweating off buckets of water in the process. In fact, I ended up surrendering my LittleMissBitchyPants title in those 11, sweaty miles. It’s a good thing. Promise.
See that white stuff on the hat? Right on the top there?? Yep, that right there is salt residue. From my sweat. Yummmyyyy
I thought about a lot of things on this run. Perspective truly is everything. Sure, some days may feel blah, but in reality, those blah days aren’t any different than the good days. It’s just my perception on life that makes ‘em blah. I have my family, I have my health, I have a job, and a roof over my head with food on the table. What else do I need?
Surely, not a master’s degree.
The fact that I am in the second-best Public Health school in the country and pursuing my dream is definitely not a need. It is something I have chosen to do, because I want to. I am so proud of what I have accomplished in my life thus far. And the fact that I was even accepted into UNC’s public health program still has me pinching myself. I am quite a lucky gal to have the means for such a great education, and I cannnnooootttt wait to attend orientation in Chapel Hill next weekend (and kick off my second year of classes!).
Oh, and another think I’m proud of?
The fact that I didn’t get blisters when I got caught in the rain on a nice, leisurely Sunday afternoon run. Developing blisters was the one thing I was worried about for the Flying Pig Marathon. Sure, I had run in rain before, but never a torrential downpour. (Luckily we only experienced steady rain during the Flying Pig.)
Sunday’s run though? Was a downpour. For a solid two and a half miles. Thankfully, the rain came down during the tail-end of my run, so even if I had developed blisters, I didn’t have much further to go.
Running in that kind of rain felt soooo incredible. Very refreshing. The temperature that day was cooler to begin with (well, relatively speaking… as the South has been experiencing close to 100 degree temperatures for the past few weeks, and Sunday only got up into the mid-eighties…). Couple that with the fact that this rainstorm was sans thunder, and I found myself the perfect storm to run in! Sure I had water squishing around in my shoes, but my dry-fit socks stayed perfectly snug to my feet and I honestly was not bothered by the sloshy-shoe factor at all.
When I walked through the door after my run…Ryan took one look at me and laughed. And then he reached for my camera, because he wanted to document how ridiculous I looked.
Case in point…
Gotta love a boyfriend who laughs in your face when you look like a wet rat. Looks like we both picked a winner :P.
Have you ever woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or have you lost perspective on life and felt sorry for yourself? What brings on these moments of weakness for you? Have you ever run in a torrential downpour before?