This post is honest and it won't be for everyone. It's the pent up, mind churning post that's been marinating in an attempt to assess the essence of the happy runner, on both her best and her worst day. I wanted the happy runner to be for the optimist, but in true form she will always be a realist. Just as happiness will always be a choice.
It's on my way to work that I have the most ghastly thoughts. This is likely because I'm headed to one of if not the very last place I'd like to be going. It's as I stand down on the subway platform dripping sweat and feeling like a horse raced too hard on a hot day that I look around and feel actual loathing. I'm disinterested by everyone enduring their morning grind because I’m consumed in my own. I yearn for a pollution filled breeze, just to feel like anything is moving at all. My mind fills with dreams to run (really, to run away) to take the edge off the dread I have in returning another day to a place that doesn’t fit my skillset with people who don’t seem like they’ll ever relate to me.
It wasn't always this way. In my last job I loved the people I worked with. I respected and looked up to them. I felt they were my friends and my advocates inside and outside the work place. I didn't like the work there either, so I took a leap of faith and began a new adventure.
See, that’s the thing isn’t it? We’re told again and again to take a chance, start an adventure, close our eyes, and “leap”. We read books and stories, watch movies, and hear reports on all of the amazing things that can happen if you just “take a chance.” I’m here to represent the 99% of the world where this didn’t go as planned. I’m here to tell you that I’m sitting smack dab in the middle of the part in that book where they tell you “I failed 100 times before I got it right.”Read More