On the Want of Running

Actually and really, I cannot live in this world without running. To be deprived of it, is to proceed through life with little excitement or fun. It is to live secluded from society, or to be angry if you come into it; it is not to be invited to the hockey game, or asked to prom, or helped with an essay; it is not to have your text replied to or left on delivered, to have your clothes laughed at and ridiculed, your car judged, and finally to lose the mentality and motivation to talk back; it is to be seen as an outsider, and left third-wheeling by friends; it is to be a weirdo in a room full of cool kids, a Hawk in Colt territory; to give up being happy, free, and not stressed, to always need compliments and help, or work a 9-5 job, to be a garbage man; or to go up to the girl you like and ask her out, or fight back against the bully; with all your dreams, frustrations, and hard-work, and a high chance of failing, or, if you do win, after destroying yourself for decades, and putting yourself through multiple mental breakdowns, to be attacked with jealousy, lies, and trash-talking; to be full of life and joy as a child, of anger and want in death; to be annoyed by the traffic because you can't fly your helicopter; to be left without a wife, or too busy to be there for her; to find a place to slowly corrode in and leave the world without anyone asking what happened. The "friends" will maybe run a marathon in the location of your death and form a charity to support your family and all you accomplished in your life. 

Consider the runner

Most people know what a runner is. I talk about it all the time. However, runners are much more in-depth than you may think. Sure, from a quick glance we are that half-naked, sweaty lunatic making their way down the road. But a runner isn't just the person that runs marathons in their free time, no..a runner is, technically, anyone who has both feet off the ground at the same time and a bend in their knees.

My Bib wall
(part of it)

A majority of runners share three common traits. Our shoes are the first. Those hideous, mismatched-colored trainers that have enough to rubber in the sole to fix a flat tire. There are thousands of trainers on the market, but everyone sticks with the three main brands: Saucony, Asics, and-more commonly found in Michigan-Brooks. The big three. Ask any runner what kind of shoes they have tried on and I guarantee one of those three names will show up. Number two of the three common tr
aits is calloused, torn apart, stench-ridden feet. Oh lord our feet are horrid. The constant pounding on concrete and wading through mud really takes a toll on our most prized possession(s). Don't believe me? Ask a runner to see their feet, you might just pass out. And finally, the third common trait of the runner is a wall filled with their race numbers. If you ever get a chance, ask a runner to see their wall of race bibs. It's quite fascinating, because each bib holds a memory. 

Anyways what I am trying to get at is that although runners by themselves seem like aliens, there are millions of us scouring the planet for a chance to run. Runners have been around from the beginning of forever. Cool story time!!! The term Marathon originated around 480 BC. A man by the name of Pheidippides ran from a city in Greece named Marathon to Athens in hopes of delivering a message. He died shortly after he reached Athens. The End. 

So here is a question that many people have asked me, and a question I ask myself everyday: Does a human willingly choose to surrender himself to extreme amounts of pain by running...for fun? Is it really willingly or is it a bandwagon? How much pain is there in running? IS IT EVEN FUN?! (I think it's pretty fun, but I also am called insane on a day-to-day basis)

I adapted this post from a piece called "Consider the Lobster" by David Foster Wallace. Although, I changed his style of writing to one that suits myself.

A run through being a "marked" teenager

At some point in our high-school lives', all of us have experienced a moment where we became "marked". Whether it was because of what we were wearing, or what we said, or how we acted;somebody made the conscious decision to mark us because of it. 

Until this week, I didn't really realize what marking was. I mean, I knew I was judgmental...but what highschooler isn't. After reading Tannen's piece, "There Is No Unmarked Woman", I had sudden realization: what I considered judging was really just marking. I would label people based on clothing, hairstyle, shoe choice, really anything. See the thing with judging and marking is that usually judging is linked to a negative connotation, when judging someone you usually are being negative about them. Marking is simply defined as "scrutinizing"(Tannen,389) someone, whether it is positive or negative.

"He isn't like the other Indians, he doesn't smell bad and he isn't gross!" is a perfect example of how I was marked. Yes...that really did happen. I was deemed worthy of being a cool kid because I didn't follow my apparent cultural norm. Apparently all Indians smell bad, all of them. Every. Single. One. (This isn't actually true, I can guarantee that only 3% of the Indian population at Troy High smells "funky") I was marked as being different, based on a physical trait, just like the women in Tannen's piece. Tannen "considered the clothes each women had worn"(Tannen,389) while those who marked me considered the way I smelled. Seriously, how did they get close enough to smell me, I don't like anyone enough to let them get that close what the heck. 

Anyways, being marked or marking someone doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Even handing out compliments can be considered marking someone. Sadly, most of the time it is meant in a condescending way but that's highschool. Much like I was marked as cool for not smelling, I was marked as insane for choosing to run for fun. However, being marked as insane for that reason seemed pretty exciting to me. I, for one, don't mind being labeled as crazy because I've met those who are just as crazy as me through running. A perfect example of how being marked isn't always a bad thing. So while judging is fun and makes you feel good about yourself, try marking someone in a positive way for once. You could actually end up finding those who relate to you.

A run with my dad (through my dad sounds...weird)

This week I had the opportunity to discuss familial stereotypes in class. Listening to what my friends had to say about their families really helped shine a light on my relationship with my dad. Until that class period, it was a very confusing relationship. Maybe some background information would help.

      My dad travels a lot. Like...a lot. He's usually traveling nine out of the twelve months of the year and when he isn't traveling, he's in a conference call or sleeping. Basically I don't get to see him much. Unlike Brad Manning, who had a physical relationship with his dad, I have no relationship with my dad.  My mom raised me, taking on both the role of father and mother. She taught me how to clean and do laundry but also played catch with me. Everything I know now and who I am as a person is credited towards my mother. My mom broke every stereotype she has faced. She doesn't just clean, cook, and iron. She pays the bills, helps with homework, mows the lawn, gets the oil changed, and still has dinner ready when I get home.

      In my 16 years of existing, I have seen emotion leak out of my dad maybe once. Maybe. This one time, he told me that he was proud of me. PROUD OF MEEEEE. I was shocked I really was. It just seemed so surreal for him to be actually complementing me, considering he doesn't even know what I've accomplished. This post doesn't make sense i'm just angry. Basically what I mean is that my family has no stereotypes. My dad is rarely here and my mom is the equivalent of a God. Also, I know I sound like I am complaining, but trust me I know my life isn't bad at all. I live a pretty great life and don't take much for granted.

                    At the end of the day, I am who I am because of my mom. I clean up after myself, do my laundry, clean the house, and cook because of my mom. I also fix my car, shovel, mow, and take care of others because of my mom. Thanks mom. So while I may disagree with my mom, I am pretty similar to Vowell in the sense that i'm basically a copy of my mom, much like Vowell and her dad. That's it really. No life lesson for this post, I guess you can take away that you should be happy with what you have or something I dunno. Have a nice day!