"Alright, feelin good," I tell myself as I sync into a smooth rhythm, my dirtying white-and-pink Nikes sinking into pavement and my breath matching my flow. It's mile 12 of 26.2 and I'm about to run farther than I have ever run before. And I'm not completely freaked out.
Mile 14...15...16..17...they all pass by, breezy as pie and pretty soon I'm at 20 thinking, "This is kinda easy."
I hit a small wall at 21. My hips hurt, I've already taken more than enough ibuprofen and the thought of more Gatorade makes me nauseaous. But I keep going, one foot in front of the other, because I could scoot by my fan club at any minute and would hate to dissapoint them with a waddling, wandering, walking Teri.
I jog past my fan club, grab an envelope of French Vanilla Latte energy gel and keep going until they're out of sight. My hips burn and stab with every step and I need a break. "Just to that stoplight, I promise."
I toddle to the stoplight, take a deep breath and ugh. It's like I'm the Tinman and need some oil. A few staggered steps later, I'm back into the groove - rightleft rightleft inout inout - and I'm cruisin to Mile 22. Only 4 more left. I can do 4 more. Ain't no thang.
But 4 more miles are the longest 4 miles of my life. I keep going. Push through it. Mile 25 and an Asian drumming group is pounding away. I involuntarily speed up my rhythm to match their "pum pum pum", round a corner and can see the finish. It's farther than I'd like, but I'll make it.
Mile 26. Turn on the jet packs and go.
I finish my first marathon. With hardly any training at all. 5:33:30 baby. Oh yeah.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
They never said it would be easy...
...but does it really have to be this hard?
I'm sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon. I'm working on the letter of interest I'm going to send one of the schools I student taught at and a school that currently has an opening for an 8th grade English teacher. It's about 3:30 pm and the only way I know that is because Raul just walked in and plopped himself down in a metal folding chair next to my fancy, cushiony office chair.
"What's that, huh?" he asks facetiously, leaning over to catch a glimpse of my computer screen.
"Cover letter," I say, not thinking that I should try to keep it from him. His brow furrows and he quickly understands.
"So they fired you too?" He looks like he just got hit in the stomach with a pipe or something.
"No. I'm not coming back for another year."
"Wh-why?" he asks, his dark brown eyes becoming even more obscured with hurt.
"Because sometimes people do things they shouldn't and other people have to stand up against what's wrong."
"Hm." he says and quickly changes the subject.
Two weeks ago they fired my boss because they claimed they can't afford to pay him. I know that's not true. I'm not supposed to know it, but I do. So how can I stay here and act as their free labor when I know they're doing things that aren't in accordance with my own ethics?
Then again, how can I leave kids like Raul, with whom I've spent a year creating relationships and whose trust I have finally earned? How can I walk away from youth who have such a strong, undeniable need for someone stable in their lives, and who have such incredible potential to get out of this neighborhood someday?
Then again, how can any of that be realized when youth are only a priority in terms of lip service at this place and I will have no budget with which to do all the cool things that kids want to do. Right now I don't even have money to provide them snacks when we meet. When they fired my boss, everything in our space went with him save for two computers, three lounge chairs and a tv. Not exactly much to work with in creating a thriving youth ministry program.
I told my new boss - the pastor here - that I won't be coming back for another year. But now I'm wondering if it was the right choice. Maybe it shouldn't be about all the bull that's going on up in administration but about the kids. That'd be an easier mentality to hold if what's going on up in administration didn't have such a drastic effect on what resources are available to the kids.
I could work hard at fundraising and soliciting donations. I could pour all my energy into finding free stuff on Craigslist and begging people to come in a volunteer for our programs. I could create a youth program that would kick other youth programs' rear ends. But should I really do that for an organization that clearly has no plan; no walk to back up the talk; no conscience? Is my cooperation with them - my love for these kids - enabling them to continue abusing the people and resources they do have? What is my uncooperation achieving?
It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. And now I just don't know what to do.
I'm sitting in my office on a Thursday afternoon. I'm working on the letter of interest I'm going to send one of the schools I student taught at and a school that currently has an opening for an 8th grade English teacher. It's about 3:30 pm and the only way I know that is because Raul just walked in and plopped himself down in a metal folding chair next to my fancy, cushiony office chair.
"What's that, huh?" he asks facetiously, leaning over to catch a glimpse of my computer screen.
"Cover letter," I say, not thinking that I should try to keep it from him. His brow furrows and he quickly understands.
"So they fired you too?" He looks like he just got hit in the stomach with a pipe or something.
"No. I'm not coming back for another year."
"Wh-why?" he asks, his dark brown eyes becoming even more obscured with hurt.
"Because sometimes people do things they shouldn't and other people have to stand up against what's wrong."
"Hm." he says and quickly changes the subject.
Two weeks ago they fired my boss because they claimed they can't afford to pay him. I know that's not true. I'm not supposed to know it, but I do. So how can I stay here and act as their free labor when I know they're doing things that aren't in accordance with my own ethics?
Then again, how can I leave kids like Raul, with whom I've spent a year creating relationships and whose trust I have finally earned? How can I walk away from youth who have such a strong, undeniable need for someone stable in their lives, and who have such incredible potential to get out of this neighborhood someday?
Then again, how can any of that be realized when youth are only a priority in terms of lip service at this place and I will have no budget with which to do all the cool things that kids want to do. Right now I don't even have money to provide them snacks when we meet. When they fired my boss, everything in our space went with him save for two computers, three lounge chairs and a tv. Not exactly much to work with in creating a thriving youth ministry program.
I told my new boss - the pastor here - that I won't be coming back for another year. But now I'm wondering if it was the right choice. Maybe it shouldn't be about all the bull that's going on up in administration but about the kids. That'd be an easier mentality to hold if what's going on up in administration didn't have such a drastic effect on what resources are available to the kids.
I could work hard at fundraising and soliciting donations. I could pour all my energy into finding free stuff on Craigslist and begging people to come in a volunteer for our programs. I could create a youth program that would kick other youth programs' rear ends. But should I really do that for an organization that clearly has no plan; no walk to back up the talk; no conscience? Is my cooperation with them - my love for these kids - enabling them to continue abusing the people and resources they do have? What is my uncooperation achieving?
It wasn't supposed to turn out like this. And now I just don't know what to do.
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