Week 2 in a Word or Three
I know I know...I’ve been HORRIBLE about updating this guy. I truly am sorry. Part of me wonders if that’s almost a good thing though, like maybe there’s just less traffic in my mind? Not really sure. I’m just worried it’s actually the other option--I have found other ways to unwind and de-clutter my thoughts. I sure hope not. Writing is too beautiful form of expression to be lost so quickly as that.
Things are okay here--I actually have a post coming soon about the strange land called Boiling Springs so stay tuned for that. I spend my days, quite busily. I get up and work out....or don’t. Most days, it’s the don’t option, obviously not by choice if you know anything about me at all. Let me give you an example: Just this morning, I woke up to a 6:10 alarm; threw some workout gear on, including one of those sports bras that you can literally ONLY wear for a 1-2 hour workout before dying a death of spectacular constriction; then biked like a champ to the gym....only to get there, see the dark weights room, and let out a sigh of frustration as I came to discover that the gym wouldn’t open for another hour and a half. Sorry but no thank you. Other days, my obstacles take the form of early staff meetings, exhaustion, weights rooms too overcrowded with ACTUAL athletes to admit one more participant, or legs so tired and broken down that they cannot even fathom the idea of a 4 mile run, let alone a half mile run.
After my iffy morning workout, I make some breakfast, take a shower, then decided whether or not to bike to work, which is steadily becoming one of the hardest decisions I have to make all day. On the one hand, biking to work means saving gas WHILE exercising. On the other hand, though, biking to work means leaving myself totally naked and exposed to the elements WHILE carrying a backpack that weighs half a million tons. Oh, not to mention the nice sheen of sweat that comes with the task. On good days, I pretend I’m glistening and just let myself air dry in the freezing office. On bad days, I just accept the thing for what it really is: Yes, coworkers, I AM sweating like a pig or (since I’m in the South and they say crap like this) like a sinner in church. Like I said, it’s a tough choice and one that I dread daily.
Upon arriving at work, I sit down and pray that they have a task for me--the lowly GA. Just as my workout schedule and mode of transportation, this, too, varies. Some days, I sit there and decorate my planner, taking care to IMMEDIATELY whip out the Recruiting Handbook lest anyone think I’m not doing anything. On others, I am given menial tasks, which are both time-consuming and borderline unnecessary. Truth be told, these are the days that I love; the days in which I feel as though I’m contributing to the program, no matter how small my role is; the days in which I get to take a project and RUN with it, proving to my coworkers that I am not only competent but damn good at whatever task they might throw my way; the days in which I, too, have work to be distracted from. And believe me, there are MANY distractions in the office. Now I’m not talking distractions, like “Oh my co-worker is so cute; I want to marry him.” Ha. ....I wish that was a problem I was having actually. No, these distractions generally take the forms of my swimmers, which--as it turns out--is what I wanted to write about in the first place (despite my lengthy descriptions of my overly exciting daily morning rituals). Tumblr readers, I love them.
I love their energy. I love their humor. I love their overall affection for us, resulting in this beautiful and unassuming faith in our abilities to lead them to more than mediocrity. I love that they come into the office and hang out, not because they’re killing time before class (which, okay, sometimes is actually the case), but because they just want to hang out with us; they want to talk to us; they want to unload all that’s on their mind and receive some reassurance and a laugh in return. It appears that some of my boys should have their own desks in the office for how often they are there. I like to pretend like I’m soooo busy and annoyed when they walk in--like I’m actually working on super important tasks for the president of the United States (hah...just kidding, Dad)--but this facade is so feeble and insubstantial that I can’t keep it up for too long before I’m there, joining in with whatever ridiculous tale is being told or whatever mundane occurrence that happened to them throughout the course of their day. I love that the other woman on staff (a 45+ year old Southern woman with an accent thick enough to coat the walls and floors of the entire building) calls them “Baby” and “Sugar” and asks them how their day is going, only for them to eat it up and respond openly and honestly without a second thought. I love that they already trust me enough to tell me things and that they see me as a friend. I know I should but it’s become apparent to me that I don’t even mind their knowing my age and their ability to do simple enough subtraction to realize that I am only 1 or 2 years older than most or--worse--the same age as some. I know it will matter to me a little ways down the line, but right now, I’m just grateful for their kindness towards me. I’ve known them but a mere two weeks and I can’t think of any better way to repay them than to guide them towards their wonderful and hope-filled goals. I want each of them to succeed as though they truly were my own children. I guess when it comes down to it, this is really the essence of coaching--this feeling of wanting others to succeed above myself and reach their goals above my own lofty visions. I can feel that I’ve almost written too much so let me close by saying that I am so grateful to God that I am here. Finally. HE placed me in exactly the right place for friendships to grow, for careers to begin, for my faith to take off and soar into new directions, uninhibited by the boundaries of everyday doubt, borderless in every sense of the word. I am prepared for the challenges along the way, the joys to be had, and above all, boy, am I ever ready to get this season started.
areudirty
2087
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
izzy806
prguitarman
amandla