How I Run
This is kind of what I look like when I run these days.
A good friend of mine referenced the Terminator because of the sunglasses. As you can see, I cut the collars out of my shirts (don't like anything around my neck) and, in this instance, I cut off one sleeve. What you can't see is that my iPod is tucked into my sports bra and when I'm out running, I have my keys clipped to said bra. Because I care, a lot, about how I'm dressed at all times.
Remember how excited I was the other day because I felt competent and smart? The very next day I was contacted by a program director regarding information I'd inputted incorrectly in a spreadsheet. How fucking stupid is that? Who is so dumb that they can't enter numbers correctly into a spreadsheet? This bitch, that's who. I got really worked up and upset about it, although I didn't show it whilst I finished out the day. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for making such an amateurish mistake and having it pointed out by someone else, especially someone in such a superior position, was humiliating. She was nice about it and all, and it was just a matter of phone numbers and there were no negative consequences because of my mistake but still, it pissed me off. I ruminated on it for the rest of the day and into the evening, feeling like shit and forcing myself to take proactive and corrective action by going through my massive spreadsheet and pulling up every single file so that I could verify the information or make any necessary alterations.
And the thing is that it wasn't a big deal and it didn't affect anything and I'm the only one who fucking cared. I didn't realize just how much I was blowing it out of proportion until I spoke with Hunter on the phone. I'm pretty sure he thought I must have done something really horrible that was going to cost the company money or something by the way I was talking about it. By the time he understood what a small issue it was, I felt a bit ridiculous for having been almost in tears. But that's how I work. I care very much about what I do and I take pride in it. I'm a strict task master with myself and just push and push and push myself towards better and better results. God help me if I make a simple mistake because I just go off the rails a bit. Sometimes I take a breath, think things through, and think "jesus christ, kid, calm - the fuck - down... or don't, enjoy that heart attack you're working up to."
Given the amount of carbs I've just ingested, I'm hoping to find a burst of energy towards the end of the day so that I can go for a post work run. Given how I feel right now, however, I'm fairly certain I'm going to need a power nap first; hopefully I'll have the self-discipline to make it a 30 minute quickie, as I believe power naps are supposed to be, rather than taking the word 'power' and using it to mean 'I'm going to pass out, fully dressed, wake up around 8, and then have some wine' which is what I've been known to do on a Friday.
Louis C.K. has some really good jokes about being overweight and one of my favorite has to do with his answer to a doctor who asked him how long into a meal did he typically feel full and stop eating. His response was along the lines of "the meal doesn't end when I'm full. No, the meal ends when I'm feeling ashamed and sick." I don't know what on earth allows me to eat enough that I feel gross, but it happens from time to time. And it is always something sub par and unremarkable. It's not like I sat at my desk gorging on perfectly prepared duck and escargot. Crummy cheese-encrusted salad and bread sticks. I mean, yeah, they were OK but if I had gone to a restaurant and had this, I would have stopped eating and not taken the left overs.
So stop it, self. Let this be another one of those teachable moments and don't do it again.
This is kind of what I look like when I run these days.
Remember how excited I was the other day because I felt competent and smart? The very next day I was contacted by a program director regarding information I'd inputted incorrectly in a spreadsheet. How fucking stupid is that? Who is so dumb that they can't enter numbers correctly into a spreadsheet? This bitch, that's who. I got really worked up and upset about it, although I didn't show it whilst I finished out the day. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for making such an amateurish mistake and having it pointed out by someone else, especially someone in such a superior position, was humiliating. She was nice about it and all, and it was just a matter of phone numbers and there were no negative consequences because of my mistake but still, it pissed me off. I ruminated on it for the rest of the day and into the evening, feeling like shit and forcing myself to take proactive and corrective action by going through my massive spreadsheet and pulling up every single file so that I could verify the information or make any necessary alterations.
And the thing is that it wasn't a big deal and it didn't affect anything and I'm the only one who fucking cared. I didn't realize just how much I was blowing it out of proportion until I spoke with Hunter on the phone. I'm pretty sure he thought I must have done something really horrible that was going to cost the company money or something by the way I was talking about it. By the time he understood what a small issue it was, I felt a bit ridiculous for having been almost in tears. But that's how I work. I care very much about what I do and I take pride in it. I'm a strict task master with myself and just push and push and push myself towards better and better results. God help me if I make a simple mistake because I just go off the rails a bit. Sometimes I take a breath, think things through, and think "jesus christ, kid, calm - the fuck - down... or don't, enjoy that heart attack you're working up to."
Why I Run
I ordered a salad for lunch from a pizza place today. The fact that I ordered it from a 'restaurant' whose name includes the word 'pizza' will tell you that it wasn't the most healthy of salads. It wasn't awful but it had a ton of cheese. To go along with this so called healthy entree, I ordered bread sticks because if there is one thing I know, greasy, cheesy, doughy, white bread sticks play a major part in the food pyramid. As I told my friend "now I just feel fat and stupid." She congratulated me.Given the amount of carbs I've just ingested, I'm hoping to find a burst of energy towards the end of the day so that I can go for a post work run. Given how I feel right now, however, I'm fairly certain I'm going to need a power nap first; hopefully I'll have the self-discipline to make it a 30 minute quickie, as I believe power naps are supposed to be, rather than taking the word 'power' and using it to mean 'I'm going to pass out, fully dressed, wake up around 8, and then have some wine' which is what I've been known to do on a Friday.
Louis C.K. has some really good jokes about being overweight and one of my favorite has to do with his answer to a doctor who asked him how long into a meal did he typically feel full and stop eating. His response was along the lines of "the meal doesn't end when I'm full. No, the meal ends when I'm feeling ashamed and sick." I don't know what on earth allows me to eat enough that I feel gross, but it happens from time to time. And it is always something sub par and unremarkable. It's not like I sat at my desk gorging on perfectly prepared duck and escargot. Crummy cheese-encrusted salad and bread sticks. I mean, yeah, they were OK but if I had gone to a restaurant and had this, I would have stopped eating and not taken the left overs.
So stop it, self. Let this be another one of those teachable moments and don't do it again.
Lol, thanks for the link. My food pyramid is a big fat blob.
ReplyDeleteAn anger management class might help you Excel better. Just sayin'
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ReplyDeleteAn anger management class to deal with myself? That sounds a bit like some sort of self help 'love thyself' sort of thing, which I abhor for myself. But thank you for the suggestion. In reality, I just think I need to be better at my job.
ReplyDelete