What I'm Gonna Need to See

The running thing isn't going so well. Well, that's not entirely true. Some days it goes! It goes strong, it goes in good form and some days it's even--dare I say it--fun. The fun days conveniently seem to exclusively be the days my lil Nike app tells me to run four miles or less. And then there are the long run days...yeah...those days aren't so much bad as that they don't really happen. 

I think I'm failing at the training aspect of this race. Yes, there are moments of triumph. Yesterday I worked 9 hours, and got my ass to the gym and ran four miles. It wasn't my best time, but I didn't stop once and I did it in a little over 40 minutes. It doesn't hurt the day after anymore. My calves are starting to look like sculpted muscle, and I have been able to stick to a commitment of running every other day, or at least four times a week. I just can't seem to force myself past the four to five mile markers. This race is six weeks away. I'm getting nervous bout it. 

I was gifted the book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami for Christmas this year and it's been helping. This man and I have almost polar opposite feelings about the art of running, mainly the fact that he seems to enjoy it. Murakami doesn't drink when he's training so I'm not drinking. Murakami stresses living a scheduled life of routine and early mornings when he trains so I am getting up...earlier. The bits we don't agree on are centered around one's core impetus to run; he runs for personal discovery--void of competition--so that he can simultaneously derive pleasure and pain, whereas I feel all the pain, none of the pleasure. The only thing fueling me is the competition. And pride. I said I would do this so I'm going to do this. The only other thing that drives me as I listen to Britney Spears' "Stronger" club mixes on repeat? Why, that would be what I want to see at the damn finish line of this damned race.  

What I'm Gonna Need to See As I Finish This Half-Marathon

1)  Anyone I've ever kissed on the mouth/shared my cousin's HBOGO password with/conned into stopping at Dunkin even if we didn't have time/been late to dinner plans with to show up and cheer me on wearing homemade, glitter puffy paint shirts that say things like

• "Go Bligh-thing!"
• "Yes Bliggles"
• "Stay strong biddie!"

2) At the halfway point, I want to be handed a warm mixed berry scone from Alice's Teacup. The butter must be cold. This is important. Actually, I'd like Alice's Teacup to sponsor snacks for my friends who've come out in support. Everyone gets a scone! But the temperature of their butter is on them.

3) After I cross the finish line I'm going to cry. As I'm wiping away perfect television tears, I want Liza Minnelli* to be singing a cover of India Arie's, "Just Do You." I would like Aziz Ansari to not only introduce me to the crowds via megaphone, I'd also like him to tell me I booked that 5-and under I auditioned for yesterday for his new show. He should also be willing to hug me because I think he's wicked cute and funny. I bet he smells nice.

4) When I run past, I want people (all people, not just the ones I know) to scream "YAHHHS MAMI!" ...because I've never been called "Mami" before and I think I can ask for whatever I want. 

5) I want my girl Whitney who is  running with me to high five me. A lot. I love high fiving. I wish we all high fived more. I also want to wear matching hats but I don't want her to say no so I'll spring it on her about 10 minutes before we start.

6) Finally, I want everyone (I mean EVERYONE) to lie and say I had a great running stride and I looked so good. Lie to me so good babies! Also, if you take a picture of me running and you wanna post it, please filter it with either "Mayfair" or "X-pro II" as those make me appear tanner.

*FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS FOR LIZA:

First of all, thank you for doing this! I've admired you since I inappropriately watched Cabaret at the tender age of eight and legitimately thought Sally Bowels sings "Maybe This Time" because she lost out on a big role she was auditioning for. Then in college, a group of amazing friends and I skipped school to attend your out of town try-out for "Liza's at the Palace" in Woonsocket, Rhode Island and you blew us the fuck away! We came all the way from Boston to see you. I still talk about that concert. You did not STOP. You also didn't wear pants but instead opted for the FANCIEST black sequined men's shirt I've ever seen. Your legs were a show enough! My favorite favorite part? When you had not one but TWO encores, the first being a song entitled "Mammy" (questionable choice) and "New York, New York" where you modulated up FIVE UNNECESSARY TIMES. I was on my feet by the third and the last two were the most thrilling moments of my life. Okay, I'll stop fangirling you and therefore offer you, diva, some alternate songs you may sing if you don't have time to learn "Just Do You" although, it's a badass song and you should add it to your rep for sure. Below is the short list of suggestions. Finally, I'd like to wrap this up by saying the race is April 19th, at 9am. I hope to be done around 11am-11:15am (god willing) so you should get up to steam the gift around 8am? I'll defer to you.

- "Jolene" by Dolly Parton

- "Power" by Kanye West

- "Rock Me Baby" by Tina Turner

- "Domino" (I'd prefer the Van Morrison song but I'll settle for Jessie J's "Domino" too...you pick)

- the opening credits song from "Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt"

- "Amazing Grace" but uptempo with a tambourine

Babies. Skipping tap class to love on Liza. In Rhode Island.

Remember When I Didn't Like You for No Reason?

I hate when there's a little piece of hair in my mouth, and I can't figure out where it is or how to get it out. I hate when humans are in line at Dunkin during my morning commute and they decide to ask questions. WHAT DO YOU NEED TO KNOW? This place has mediocre (if not excessively lovable) coffee! Move on, mama's got a Q train to catch! I hate dirty dishes because I know that if dirty dishes had a voice they would sound like Fran Drescher with those elongated, judgmental vowels telling me to "just cleeeeeaaaaannnn meeeeee alreadyyyyy." I hate one word emails, keys that don't fit in the keyhole easily and--more than anything--I hate women who do not support other women. 

Let's get one thing perfectly clear, right off the bat: I have been that woman before. I'm not proud of this. I regret two things in my life: the times I've spent being catty towards undeserving women, and the time I had the chance to hug Stephen Sondheim and I didn't. I worry about Stephen Sondheim and Jennifer Aniston every single day. I'd like to tell you more about that, but it's for another day, another post. 

As a woman who has spent too much time cutting down, chastising, and diminishing other women (purely because I was envious), I can tell you with full authority that this behavior will not make your life better. It won't help you find personal clarity. You will not be happier because you read some woman on her poor life choices or behavior. As a matter of fact, you will only be worse for the wear. You will not suddenly have all your ducks in a row, you won't immediately be in the perfect relationship, you won't be thinner, or more talented, or even have healthier hair. You will still be you, riddled with self doubt and work needing to be done. And on top of it all, you'll have wasted hours of your life when you could've been actively improving you.

 I've noticed, more often than not, the crux of a female cut-down session centers around a woman who has "taken" your/your friend's man. I will say this now because it's the smartest thing I have ever said and I want it written down forever as gospel truth: I have never met/dated/attracted/found a man worth fighting another woman over. They are not worth the fight, the catty behavior, the nasty digression in maturity level. This is another lesson I had to learn the hard way, but now that it's understood, please heed my advice and stop wasting energy hating some woman because she's with your ex. I would sooner justify fighting a woman over a wrap dress at the DVF sample sale than fighting over a man. Live in that truth. 

I host this lady's brunch once a month where I email a lot of badass women whom I think need to know each other and we get together and we drink and eat and laugh and listen. We share ideas and commiserate over things that aren't going according to plan. We discuss how we can help one another. Just two weeks ago we hatched a brilliant idea for a Kickstarter that I can't even tell you about because it's so smart it'll blow ya damn minds. We spent an afternoon rallying around one another, not breaking each other down. It felt nice to look at the group and know that time could stop, we really could relax and let the perpetual female guard down. I caught myself wondering why I've spent/spend so much time thinking someone's out out to get me. I am nobody's Olivia Pope or Carrie Mathison! My life more resembles an episode of "Finding Your Roots" than a television drama: there's a lot of laughing through snot-tears* exclaiming "I never knew that!" There's not as much drama or need to protect myself as I think, and that goes for all relationships, not just the female ones. 

So, as a final thought, to those women out there who think there is some secret battle being fought over ex-boyfriends and lovers lost, over work and talent levels, over who looks thinner or prettier: give it a rest. Please, take a deep breath. Namaste it out. Channel every ounce of jealously and resentment you have towards these other women and do something that makes you better. It's fucking incredible what we can accomplish when we get out of our own way. 

*snot-tears: when you're crying so hard that your nose is running but the tears and the snot are one in the same and you sort of hope those around you don't notice. Or if they do, they love you anyway.