I'm really starting to love running now. I guess I just needed to get into shape. So now I run almost every day. It feels absolutely amazing. One day I had extra energy and ran an extra mile...it was one of the best feelings ever. It's kind of nice...I feel so refreshed and accomplished, but I still get to think and keep it to myself. It's a personal pride, and it's a nice change of pace from all the things I seem to do for the glory and attention. I'm actually pretty upset I ever let myself get so consumed by the need to be the best at everything. I have trained myself to believe that if I'm not the best, I'm a failure. ...Wow, that thought just kind of came out of nowhere. But it's true. And I was just thinking the other day about how I always seem to come up short. When I should feel proud of my accomplishments and my hard work paying off, I get upset that it wasn't better and think about people that should feel more proud of themselves. When I should be enjoying the things I love simply because they are things that I put a lot of time into and really have fun with, I concern myself with the competition of it all. I turn all the things I love and should use as stress-relievers into these major all-encompassing events. They consume my thoughts and emotions and leave room for little else. I get obsessive and spend hours trying to make everything perfect, and I miss out on the fun of it all. And I let myself get away with it by telling myself that the competition is what I love about it.

So the point of all of this is that I love running and have been able to turn it into my own thing. I know I'm not the only person who runs, and I know I'm not the best runner, but that's not what it's about. It's not about training for volleyball tryouts or losing weight or being better at anything. It's about me. It's about the enorphin high I get and knowing that I can push past my fatigue, thirst, pain, and doubts. Each time I run, it's a personal victory. It doesn't get written down, and nobody watches me. I don't announce my triumph (well, with the exception of the day I ran the extra mile...it was too exhilirating to keep to myself! and that wasn't about telling someone about it...it was about really believing I did it and being truly happy with myself). It's different than walking too. I used to walk for 1-4 hours a day in the summer (which I still want to make time for this year...even if not every day). But that was different. It wasn't a challenge. It was a pleasant way to sort through my thoughts. Or it was a quiet escape from an argument or boredom. I don't run to clear my mind. I don't really have a reason for running anymore. It started with volleyball and losing what's left of my freshman 15 (5 to go!), but it's not at all about that anymore. I just love the feeling of it. I love how I once had to walk the last two blocks and now I sprint them. I love how I used to beg myself to stop but kept going. I love that I no longer seriously consider walking because I know that as hard as it is, I can make it through. I love that I no longer dread the steep hill toward the end, and I love that I can really make myself sprint that last block when I should be the most tired.

I always wanted to be able to run when I was upset or needed to clear my mind. I thought it would be perfect. It really surprises me what a different effect it has, albeit a pleasant one. It gives me a sense of self-pride and confidence...both qualities I still lack to a certain extent.

Going back to the idea of doing things I love and not worrying about rewards and glory and how others see me... running isn't really the first thing to get me thinking about this. Each time I volunteered at school this year (with the exception of Biloxi), I was at least partly selfish in doing so. I signed up either because it would look good on my extracurricular transcript or resume or because it would remind people that I am a good person. I'm really embarassed to say that, but I can't pretend the thought wasn't at least partially in my mind when signing up to wake up at 7am on a Saturday or agreeing to spend 8 hours of my precious weekend hanging sheetrock. However, once I was actually working, it was a completely different story. I realized I was doing this for someone else. Someone who needed help. It felt really good to know that there is something I can do, and it always left me wanting to do more. By the end, I was signing up for the right reasons, and it was the right reasons that finally convinced me to apply to be a Volunteer Mentor. I just hope I can keep all the selfish thoughts away and remember the feeling of actually making a difference and doing something truly worthwhile.

I mentioned that Biloxi was an exception. I didn't sign on for the Biloxi trip for any kind of glory or attention. I had absolutely no intention of giving up my one favorite holiday (Thanksgiving) to travel to Mississippi. I knew it was selfish to refuse to help, and it wasn't that I didn't want to help, but I really love Thanksgiving and being close to my family without the pomp and circumstance that comes with bigger holidays like Christmas and Easter. Then Molly tried to guilt Pawel into going. She talked about all the families that still didn't have their own house. I realized how selfish I was being and decided those famililes down south needed me more. And it was an amazing experience. Thanks to us, an elderly lady was back in her home by Christmas. She hadn't been back since the hurricane. When she came to see the house...so many things about her visit really hit me. She was such a kind, happy woman. She didn't deserve what happened to her. She trusted us with building her home, and she was so grateful even though it shouldn't have taken so long to begin with. While she was inside, her neighbor came running up and asked if she was really there. He hadn't seen her since the hurricane and was so excited to see her...he ran into the house so quickly! There was so much friendship and happiness and gratitude that seemed so out of place juxtaposed against the half-finished houses and still-empty lots. I'm so glad I went on that trip. Sure, Thanksgiving Day sucked, and I had a really hard time being away from my family, but I learned a LOT about the good in people and the hope that can shine through even the most disheartening situations. I'm not going to go again next year...I really want to be home for Thanksgiving... but I think I'll do a SOUL trip in February and give up spending my birthday with my family.

On a completely new note...I walked around Como with my dad yesterday. It was great...I wonder if he'd be okay with making it a weekly thing. We had a really good talk. I never really talked to my dad unless it was something about my mom bugging me. Well, I talked, but I never really opened up and confided in him the way I've been able to lately. It was so easy to talk to him yesterday, and I really felt like he was listening (which I never expect from him). He's really starting to treat me like an adult, and I really appreciate that. If there's one thing I absolutely hate, it's people patronizing me and not taking me seriously just because I'm still fairly young. I'm 19 years old for goodness sake! I have valid opinions and ideas. I can make fair observations and consider different angles of a situation equally. I may still be sorting through some ideas and emotions, but I personally feel the best way to do so is to engage in real conversations. Even with my friends, I often talk about current events, religion, politics, and literature. But adults still seem to expect me to be preoccupied with gossip or classes or boys. Sure, I gossip some, but it doesn't overwhelm my conversations with others. Classes are important, but so is life. You can only learn so much from a book or a lecture...you have to really experience life to learn about it. And as for boys...there really aren't many that consume too many of my thoughts. I think I might just have really high standards, despite myself. Maybe they're just not my primary focus right now. I really think you need to be comfortable with yourself and your convictions before you go throwing yourself at guys that will have you questioning everything within moments. Other than that, I just haven't met anyone that I like as more than a friend yet. Apparently this marks me as some sort of reject in my family's eye... every time I come home from school, before asking how classes are or how my friends are or how I've been doing, it's automatically "any boys yet?" It really pisses me off. Do people not realize how insulting it is? First of all, it's pushy. I should be able to divulge that sort of information on my own. Second of all, it's assuming I wouldn't tell them. But somehow reminding me they want to know (as if I'd ever forget) will force me to spill even if I wasn't planning on it? It's kind of rude in that it bypasses any question about my personal well-being. It gives the impression that having a boyfriend is the most important thing ever, thus turning me into a failure for never having a boyfriend (even though that doesn't mean I haven't flirted with anyone or gone on a date or anything...). I can be in the best mood ever, and that one question will turn it sour. It takes a hell of a lot to bring me down, but that one question has the power of lifting an entire building onto my head. It drives me nuts. ...How did I get to this topic?

Anyway...it's almost 11, I think I'm getting sick, and I have to work tomorrow...and then there's dance. I suppose it's as good a time as any to wrap this up.