So, nine years ago I had the worst birthday ever. To be honest my birthday itself wasn't so bad, January 20th and even the 21st was alright. That week leading up to it, not so much. The septic tank had backed up, dad had been laid off, my dog was hit by a car and killed, and a teacher had sent home a grade report (her maternity substitute having forgotten to record an entire chapter of homework and test scores) stating that I had received an 'F' in her class for the semester. The year I turned fourteen was memorable at least. I remember when friends showed up for the slumber party and I was simply hoping they didn't ask where my dog was. Holmes, my dog, was only a puppy when he'd been hit and killed five days earlier and yes the rest of the week had been terrible but if somebody had asked me about the dog I think I might have curled into the fetal position.
When companies lay off their workers I wish they'd be creative and not do it in the winter because if they don't ruin Christmas for a family, well, they'll ruin my birthday. It's not about the money, I don't need gifts. I just get a little tired of bad news on my birthday.
As of last week my dad's job no longer exists. Two of my roommates (two of the best roommates I've ever had) have had to move out due to financial issues, and today perhaps 30 minutes ago, on my way home I killed someone else's family pet. Driving down U.S. 1 I hit somebody's cat. It was pretty, a healthy black and grey striped tabby and there was nothing I could do about it. I saw it jump out from the median and no amount of swerving or hitting the brakes would have saved it from its fate and knowing that my car weighs at least three tons and feeling the bump as my rear tires passed that spot, I know that cat didn't survive. I was driving on U.S. 1 and even at 1am you can't just stop and check to see what that bump was and if it was ok, you have to keep going, lest someone hits *you*.
All of that said, it's not a bad day.
I can't do a thing about my dad's job or roommates' financial issues. I couldn't have saved that cat.
For all I knew the critter was suicidal. We do know that Holmes just liked chasing lights, whether it was from a flashlight or a car's headlights. The timing of that particular chase was unfortunate, but it happened. The truth is, I happened to be born in January. The start of the year happens to be a good time for lay offs, a time for companies to make a clean cut. Financial issues come to a head at this point, issues with school and financial aid happen by the semester and January starts a new one. When I was in middle and high school my birthday ALWAYS fell during finals week in my school district and that's when grade reports were sent out, January the year I turned 14 also happened to be the month that teacher found appropriate to return from maternity leave to start the new year fresh and, sure, her substitute had screwed up but everyone makes mistakes and it was cleared up, it made explaining to my parents rough but considering how terrible the rest of the week had been for me they were lenient.
The reality is, that if I was born in March, these things still would have happened in January. My birthday wouldn't come into play. In fact if my birthday came in March but everyone was still financially strapped because of what happened in January I would receive less sympathy than I do now because by March everyone would just expect me to be understanding of the situation.
It seems almost providential (considering my reluctance regarding Calvinism maybe I should find a different word...) that tonight at the God party we talked about finding meaning in our work, as I was also finishing "
A Million Miles In A Thousand Years
" which is about telling a meaningful story with our lives, one people will care about when our end credits role.
When I die, and God and I talk about the life I led, what would it profit me to complain about being born in January?
If anything it adds a bit of spice to the story, and makes people amazed at how I didn't end up a Jehovah's Witness so I could avoid even trying to celebrate the day.
I have bigger stories to tackle. For instance, over 2 years ago I said I was going to train to run a marathon. Today I looked up marathon training plans for beginners (even though my pride told me I'm an intermediate runner, reality tells me I'm out of shape). The longest training plan I could find (as in, the one that would allow for the longest possible training time) was 18 weeks. I then went to marathonguide.com after counting out 18 weeks from this coming Monday (Monday is when the training guide starts) and found a marathon that will be held on that date. So,
Sunday May 30th 2010 at 7:30am I will run my first Marathon at Wickham Park in Melbourne, Fl. How weird is it that the first Marathon available on that date happens to be only 3 hours drive from where I am right now? I could probably go and just camp out the night before. Though this won't only be the first marathon I'll ever run, it'll probably also be the most dangerous and just all around strangest.
For running it I won't pay an entrance fee and my only symbol of finishing will be the sense of pride I'll feel. Perhaps accompanied by the sense of shame that I didn't do the 50, 100 or 200 mile races because the marathon is actually the shortest race they offer. No t-shirts are given
http://www.mattmahoney.net/wickham/ but
it'll be a good story to tell, and that's why it's worth doing.
What I learned as of late is this, I want to live a good story.
I want to live a story that even *I* would be willing to read, and lets be honest - I get bored easily. I'm also really bad at starting things, and then following though with things. Characters in stories need an
inciting incident to *FORCE* them to
change. They don't just change on their own, something has to make them change. Consider this my inciting incident.
Monday January 25th I begin training to run the Wickham Park marathon. I've told you all I'm going to do this, now you have to hold me to it. I'm going to blog about it, and if I'm not in shape on
May 30th to run this race then my story will simply not be as happy as I want and y'all should be very disappointed. Preparing for wickham park will be different than most marathons as well. There are a couple water fountains on the trail, otherwise I will need to make sure to bring whatever else I need for the 26.2 miles.
Ok, I might run a different Marathon that weekend if I can manage to travel for one. The Coeur d Alene marathon is the same weekend. Better climate, better scenery, and I might just be able to couch surf that one!
My first marathon is just a sample story though. I'm working on the bigger picture.
More to come.
The Inhaler I was given by my doctor pretty much fixed the asthma issues, a couple puffs on that and I hit the road with a set of new lungs. I'm figuring out however that it may not just be that I'm out of shape, but that my legs are used to running on softer material, trails, grass, etc. Things not available where I live in Miami (between Downtown and the Grove). So the past two days I've been taking ice baths as well. These are much less magical than inhalers but they seem to work nonetheless. For someone who gets as cold as I do, there is little more hellish than struggling through a 3 mile run/walk that was surprisingly chilly with an added wind chill factor only to get home and force myself into a bathtub filled with cold water and two bags of "Party Ice". I remember going into the trainer at Wa-Hi back in the day and standing in the "Whirlpool" A big metal tub filled with ice water and a little thing on the side to keep the cold water circulating. What do we learn from these practices? Runners are insane. Nonetheless, my legs feel better than they did.
by Donald Miller
