Swipe and Wipe

I've now spent about a week on Tinder and boy have I seen a lot. For about every 75-100 guys I see, I swipe right on maybe 1-2 of them. Geez. This definitely feels more like playing a game on my phone than online dating. This is probably why I like it.

Some of my friends know that I joined so we've been talking about it more. We were talking about how it actually seems that there might be nice guys on there that are looking for actual relationships like a regular dating website. They see Tinder as a means of not having to put any effort into a profile and still have some good options. When they go on sites like OKCupid or Match, they have to fill out time consuming surveys and profiles, but on Tinder, its just a sentence or two and a couple pics. Easy-peasy. And once again, you can't contact anyone or be contacted anyone if it wasn't a mutual swipe right between the two of you.

I AM a lady

Every now and then I come across an article where I feel the need to respond to it and make my opinions clear on the topic at hand. Sometimes I whole-heartedly agree with the article and other times I just want to bitch slap the author.  Luckily I was on the same page as the one I recently read. The article Thought Catalog (one of my go-to blogs) entitled "6 Things We Need to Stop Telling Women They Need to Do struck a chord with me. The article was basically about  how if you want to be a "real lady" you are expected to do certain things. Well, you know what I say to that? Fuck that. That's right. Fuck that. There is no one thing that defines you as a lady or not. And not one thing that defines someone as attractive or desirable. You know why? Because as the old adage goes, "To each their own." I know I am not the right fit for every guy (Believe me, I certainly know that!!) and not every guy is the right match for me. However, I know one day my brand of me will be considered attractive and desirable to someone. And if its not, then at least I will have been true to myself and been me. I am not going to pretend to be someone or something I a not just to impress a guy. That's not how I roll.

Left!

So my curiosity finally got the best of me...I did it...I bit the bullet and downloaded Tinder to my phone. (Relax mom!!) Almost all my single friends have it and use it or have used it in the past. And I always hear people talking about it and although I know I won't meet my future husband using it, (and I'm super anti-online dating) I downloaded it. And I have to admit, it's kind of fun. It's like a game! I mean, I'm excellent at pre-judging people on their looks so this app is just up my alley.

Another 16 weeks

On my run this morning, my second week into marathon training, my mind began to wander as it always does. At eight in the morning it was already 82 degrees and the humidity was at like 80%, so basically, I was miserable. It was way later than I usually run and way hotter and more humid than any normal person likes to run in. Of course, as I was fatigued and sweating like a beast, I began to wonder why I do this to myself. Why do I torture myself with eighteen weeks of training to run one race of 26.2 miles? Um, its because I'm crazy. Duh. Well, that's only half correct. It's also because I loooovvvveee a good challenge, and training for a marathon is always a challenge. It's something that never gets any easier no matter how many times I do it. And baby, this is my eighth time. (Actually my tenth time attempting to train. Two times, I had to bail because of bad Ulcerative Colitis flares.) This year I am running the Bank of America Chicago Marathon. I am taking it back to my roots ten years after where it all began with my first marathon. I look back now and realize I totally didn't know what I was getting myself into or how it would change me.

I run because...

Did you know that today is National Running Day? Yes, it's a real holiday. And yes, it's today! So Happy National Running Day to you and yours!

I celebrated my National Running Day as I usually do: waking up at the crack of dawn to get in my morning run. It completes me. Although it was super humid this morning and I had to cut my run short because of that (humidity is my kryptonite), it still helped jumpstart my day. My morning runs give me the energy I need to head to work with a smile on my face and some pep in my step. I even donned a new pair of running shoes on this morning's run making it even more of an event. Wearing new shoes is always fun, but when they are neon yellow, red, and black, its even more fun. Duh!

Real loss.

Just last week, I wrote about how upset I was about losing a football game. I also stated that in the grand scheme that is life, losing a football game is almost meaningless. That could not have been made clear in the last two days. 

Yesterday I took a sick day from work because I was feeling overwhelmed, overtired, and just straight up exhausted. The past three weeks have been insane and busy and I am not ashamed to say I needed a day to myself. For the first time in my nine year teaching career, I took a mental health day. (My second day off the entire school year. Only second to the personal day I took after the marathon. I deserved this.) I needed to take a day and really take care of myself, get my thoughts together, and get a final pick-me-up for the rest of the home stretch of the school year. After a run, completing some errands and treating myself to lunch, I made my way to Central Park to simply just relax and take in some sun.  As I finished opening my blanket, my phone rang and it was my assistant principal calling. She had already texted me in the morning to see if I was okay because, like I said, I don't really ever miss school so I was curious why she was calling me on my "sick day."  When I picked up the phone, she had told me she had some very bad news for me that she had to tell me before I saw the news or heard from anywhere else. One of my ninth grade students, a 14-year-old boy, had been hit by a car and killed that morning. I was shocked. Sad. And devastated. This quiet, shy boy whom I not only taught in class (who I had inside jokes with (nicknames and science raps) and loved to see smile, laugh and break out of his shell a little) was also in my homeroom, was now dead. Gone. Fourteen years old. My heart hurt. Cue my utter shock and disbelief and the tears. The many, many tears.