lovely things

i had a dream about spiders. i was in a shop, like the metal shop in college and there were jars of spiders on all the benches. someone spilled them all and i had to squash them as fast as i could because the longer it took to kill them, the bigger and more ferocious they grew. cut to classroom scene. i was late. everyone was looking at me. i sat down and opened my book. the teacher yelled at me when i admitted i hadn't read the entire third harry potter book before moving onto the fourth one. the class laughed. cut to confessional. the priest was wearing a black robe. i told him i might not like art as much as i claim to. then i woke up.
things i like:
colorado; old book smell; pink; black; nepalese food; running in the rain; boys with guitars; tori amos; text messages; exclamation points; forward motion
things i hate:
two or more girls at the same time (unless i am one of them- makes me nervous); overdraft fees; feeling obligated to maintain old friendships; feeling obligated to buy something when i go into a very small shop and the salesperson's attention is fixed on me alone; feeling obligated to close my underwear drawer when i am expecting someone; obligation; semicolons; roundabouts (what are you supposed to do at those things?); misplaced anger

workouts

my face is starting to resemble some type of italian entree...regurgitated at that. my eyes are bloodshot and half-closed. i cut my hair last night to eliminate split ends. i always wonder when i cut my hair...how long have i had that hair? years? since college? since high school? did i go to the prom with the same hair that now litters my bathroom tile and clogs my sink? or am i constantly shedding? if that's true, how does it stay so long? i cut bangs so that i could look more like someone i don't even like. identifying with the agressor? no. she just has cute hair. bangs. more for me to hide behind.
lately i feel as though my workouts are semi trucks driving too fast down a tumultuous fire road and i am being drug behind by a rope, which i am clutching relentlessly in raw hands. i never feel in control anymore. i am not running the mile repeats. they are running me. i swam last night after work. even in the pool, you can tell it's nighttime. the lifeguards are yawning and checking their watches. they toss half-assed glances toward the pool as they finish up cleaning and closing duties, wishing i would just leave so they could go home and eat or go out with their friends or answer that booty call or whatever... but i still have 2 more sets of 6 x 25, 5 x 100 and a cool down left. fuck 'em. it's their fucking job and if i want to wait til the last possible minute of the day to do this workout it's nobody's business but mine, as long as i get out of here before 9 pm. and i did.
each morning i get a choice. i can get out of bed and venture into the cold dark morning and get it over with. or i can sleep in, wake up after the sun rises and allow that pregnant cloud of impending workout to hover over my head all day. dread, i call it.
i wanted this. i want this. i want the prestige, the pain, the proof, the chafing, the exhaustion, the blisters, the sunburn, the high, the bonk, the finisher's medal. i'm the one who signed up for this. i never thought it would be easy. i never even thought it would be much fun. i guess i just figured each day of training would hold the same excitement, the same triumph and glory as race day. not so. it's still the same me chugging along, however awkward or ably up another beastly hill on another boorish run. and when i reach the top, the road still ribbons on the way it always does with miles to go. and when i reach the end of that particular run, ironman is still a distant illusion. and although i come closer every day, the end is still an abiding horizon, keeping itself [this far] from me and my dream.

feeling winter

i am feeling winter today. i don't know if i'm quite ready to let go of autumn. my favorite season. also the most fleeting, quite like all the things i love. i have been cold since i awoke this morning. i was cold all day yesterday. i try to remember the last time i was warm and of course then i was too hot. i think i have learned to live with a lower body temperature than most people. you always feel the most nostalgic at the changing of seasons. but of course they have to change or else we would forget ourselves. we would lose ourselves in one comfortable temperature, one phase of photosynthesis, the same shade of sunrise at the same time every morning, the same tone of wind, smell of air, lure of mountain. you finally get accustomed to one season. you adapt to it, you accept it and the next morning you wake up inexplicably earlier or later or colder or happier or lonelier or warmer or itchier or stuffier or skinnier or fresher due to the changing of season. and you remember that you're alive. you're moving. you're constantly moving even when you think you're standing still and then you contemplate forever. you contemplate immortality as if you have a choice. and then you consider death but only because you do have a choice. and you like the feeling of control that it gives you. and then you flip it all around, new perspective and you realize you really don't have control afterall. and then your brain spins, pen spits, hands slip and you find yourself desperately trying to grasp distractions as you spin by because it's all just too much...