Monday musings

My friend asked me what I had planned for tonight.

Not running was high on the list. (Yay for honoring the rest days!) I’ve got to say though, my brain is so well-trained that I automatically go to change into running clothes immediately when I get home from work.

Instead of running in my running clothes, today I took out the trash, recycle and food waste, unloaded the dishwasher, folded laundry, did core and strength training, AND made lasagna.

Yes, I made an entire tray of lasagna all for myself. (And, I’m not even embarrassed to say that I ate two-and-a-half pieces and am starting to feel hungry again … gotta love marathon training eating!)

Training for a marathon is a lot of work. Whenever I tell my mom that I am tired, she tells me to not do marathons, that they take up too much of my time.

Yes, they do take up a lot of time. But, I think it’s worth it.

Yes, I rarely get to see a weekend where I sleep in, but I can sleep in once my marathon is over!

And, it’s all about prioritizing and making the time.

It was nice that today I had “nothing” to do. It was relaxing to do the chores that I normally should do on the weekends but as of recent have not had the time or energy to do so.

As someone who loves to jam-pack her schedule with lots of activities, it’s the afternoons/evenings like these where I am reminded that alone time is just as important as social time with friends.

It keeps you sane. It keeps you well-rested. It continues the word-flow on your blog.

And, it gets the trash out on a Monday afternoon (which is a good thing since pickup is Tuesday).


A Valentine’s Day rejection isn’t as bad as you think

When I didn’t hear back from the company last week — when they said at the interview that I would hear back by Friday — I knew I didn’t get the job.

But as is all rejection, it isn’t final until you get that verbal “I’m breaking up with you” or pink slip in your inbox. I called them at 2 p.m. Friday and left a voicemail. No word by the end of the day, not even an email. Monday I was so busy at work that I didn’t get a chance to make another phone call. Still no email in my inbox from them.

Then Tuesday — Valentine’s Day — came and I was going to give them a final ring. To ask them why they have been avoiding me, or just to confirm that they had offered the position to someone else. They beat me to the punch. In my inbox mid-day was an email that included the sentence, “While your qualifications are certainly impressive, we have decided to pursue other candidates for the position.”

Rejected, yet again.

I want to know why, “I am not good enough.” I want to know why these other people are “better candidates.” I think I already know the answer though since the hiring manager alluded to me being overqualified for the position during the in-person interview. In this economy though, how can anyone be considered overqualified? Clearly, other places tell me I do not have enough experience so why should having too much experience be a negative aspect?

I just have too much love to share, I suppose.

Unlike the time last week I bawled my eyes out after finding out I would not be getting an interview at a place I for sure thought I would, I didn’t shed a tear this time.

I kind of didn’t have the energy to do all of that. To leave my office, cry in my car, become “normal” and presentable again, and go back to work. It’s too much effort. Plus, I already got my run for the day in before I had received the rejection email.

That evening I went to see “The Vow” at the movie theater. I figured, already rejected once for the day, I don’t really care if people see me alone here on V-Day. At this point, I’m more ashamed to tell family, friends, colleagues and mentors — time and time again — that I did not get hired by XYZ than the fact that I don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day. I could care less about that.

Also, because I was alone, I was able to snag a good middle seat even though I arrived five minutes late. And, I wasn’t alone. I saw one or two ladies by themselves — and even a man who was there by himself to watch a lukewarm romcom. I thought for sure his young military wife must be in the bathroom but even when the movie ended, he headed out of the theater alone.

I’m really tired. And, even though I feel like I’m alone in this job search, I know I’m not alone.

I hope my fellow job seekers had just a good Valentine’s Day as I did — or maybe even better.

Miles and miles and miles and

Let me start by saying I wrote my college essay on not wanting/liking to drive.

Last Thursday morning I filled up my gas tank and when I returned home at night, my car had racked in 294.5 miles for the day.

As tiring as it was driving all around the Peninsula, I was OK with it. In fact, once I reached a point where my pre-set radio stations were producing more static than music leading me to turn off the radio and drive in silence, I was OK with that as well. Where was I? I was driving through the northwest region of the Olympic National Forest to get to my destination — a prison — for a news feature I was working on. For someone who always drives with the music turned up, or a podcast playing, the silence was strange, but a good strange.

I was driving for miles and miles in silence and enjoying it! Kristin nine years ago had no interest to drive at all. My lack of interest stemmed from just being scared to be behind a steering wheel. I also just liked the convenience of having others my parents drive me everywhere I needed to go. I refused to take driver’s ed but my mom called one of the school administrators and took me out of study hall and placed me in driver’s ed.

I didn’t like driving then. I still don’t like it — but I have gotten used to it. A few months after receiving my license after turning 16, my mom and I were driving from the airport back home. I was the driver — she forced me to be. She said driving the “long” distance on the freeway would be good practice for me. (I had been avoiding most freeway driving because I didn’t like merging and changing lanes as other aggressive drivers would zip past). The drive from the airport to our house is only about 20 miles. However, half way into it I complained that my right leg was cramping up.

“I can’t take it! I’m going to pull over!” I told my mom.

She said I could not pull over. It’s dangerous! You’re fine!

I was mad.

Last Thursday I was quite the opposite. I probably could have driven for longer. Maybe it had to do with seeing Lake Crescent with its blue-green water sparkling — yes, sparkling — in the sun. Maybe it had to do with it being my first “long drive” — more than 200 miles can be considered long, yes? — alone and thus I had a sense of accomplishment. Maybe it had to do with being OK being alone and driving in the silence. Maybe it had to do with the feeling that I could go anywhere or do anything.

I didn’t even get lost. And I don’t have a smartphone or GPS.

Nor did my right leg cramp.

When thinking leads to panic to normalcy

Some say I over-analyze everything. This may be true. I’d also like to add that I just have a really good imagination.

The other day while at a luncheon for a local Republican group — yes, I felt like I wanted to burn my clothes afterward but we’ll save that talk for another time and yes, I was there to cover a story for work — about 10 children swiftly walked past me while I sat in the back of the room for the guest speaker to begin his talk. Why is this interesting? As they walked past with their string instruments — they were there to play some patriotic tunes before the lunch began — I thought I might throw up. As each child walked by I felt like they were moving very quickly. Watching them made me feel dizzy. Then a sudden thought came to me: whoa, I have vertigo. Why is everything spinning?

I don’t know why I felt that way. Probably dehydration. I’m always quick to think that “something is wrong with me” when things like that happen … kind of like when my heart skips a beat and I think I am about to go into cardiac arrest. I know this sounds like I am trying to be funny but once every so often I can “feel” my heart. And not in the “I’m-Taylor-Swift-and-I’m-going-to-write-a-song-about-how-my-heart-feels-after-being-in-love-with-another-boy-for-the-ninth-time-this-year.” Every so often I feel my heart pound and I have a brief 15-second panic that it may stop beating.

The last few times this has happened I have been alone at home. Not only do I panic because I am fearful that I may go unconscious, I begin to have a train of thought that no one will find my body for days because of the fact that I live alone. (Another downside to living alone is that there is no one else to help you open tight jars.)

Usually I snap out of my crazy “I’m going to die now” thinking by 1.) telling myself I am crazy and to stop thinking 2.) breathing 3.) drinking — preferably water.

But opening tight marinara sauce jars is a fight of its own. One time it took me nearly 15 minutes to get a jar open. I had to get my friend on the phone as she walked me through the steps on a wiki-how-to as I was nearly in tears. Don’t worry, I was having a stressful week to begin with.  Normally I’m normal.