I Am Not My Hair

"..A woman of your caliber shouldn't be entering in metadata."
-Courtesy of Big Whig in Marketing


WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST GETS REALLY GIRLY AT TIMES, SO FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS ONE IF YOU FEEL YOUR MANHOOD IS AT RISK.


YESTERDAY'S GOAL MET?: HULK SMASHED!!


So some of you have no doubt that I'm going to get this done, and I appreciate that.
Really. Because you very well may be right. And it's not that I can't do it...it's that I get distracted. Easily. That's always been my problem. But I'll get into that later.

Here's how yesterday went down.

I walk into the gym, dreading that "NORM!" from Cheers greeting I usually get,
because I wasn't in the mood for it. I officially bummed myself out with all the Levee talk,
and I needed some quiet in conjunction with some mood altering endorphines.

I forgot my locker combo. Nothing new. However, the chick behind the desk makes a production about getting the KEY to my combination locker (????) ....which gives the staff enough time to notice I'm there.

"OH... YOU MUST BE TRAINING FOR SOMETHING ..." says Delores. (Not to be confused with PF Delores.) And immediately, all eyes on me.

So now, I'm feeling like a bit of a jerk because she's right, which prompts me to tell her about the race, then answer questions about the cause ...and the entire gym is watching. (It's not a big gym.) If I can't kick out these 2 puny wittle bitty miles, I've let down the Levee victims, breast cancer patients and the company whole gym.

No pressure.

I kick out 2.4 miles. This gives me hope. I can do this. I can officially stop panicking.

So I get cocky, and decide to do some pushups. (Real ones. Not those pansy "on the knee girlshups")
..and I get kick out 26. (Actually going for three sets of eight, but felt a little strong and kicked out two at the end.)

Now, I'm pumped. So I start with crunches...and I kick out 80.

The water is gone, I'm sweaty and feeling strong and just...great. Good job Nye.

Back in the locker room, I jump in the shower, and emerge to the horrorifying realization that...I don't have a ponytail holder.

So I stand there and blink. And blink. Because I know what this means.

I'm going to look like one of those furry topped pencils if I don't do something quick.

Nope. No gel in the bag. Next to me, some random co-worker takes the blow-dryer and blows her hair out to perfection. I feel the fur forming and I run back to my office before the carriage turns into a pumpkin.

This gets me to thinking about the whole "hair" thing. This is what started the whole "sit on my ass" thing in the first place.

I'd had unrelaxed curly locks for about ten years, and thanks to a few press and curls, the texture changed. Long story short, I got it relaxed straight.
Got a cut.
Got cute.
Damn cute.
Too damn cute to get it all sweated out in the gym.

So it was toss up between the hair and the body. In the winter, the hair means more. And most women have the same issue. Because getting your hair done every week is time consuming...and costly. So I opted for cute. And pushed my size 6 to the back of the closet.

I'm so vain, I probably think this blog is about me. Don't I? Don't I? Don't I?

So anyway...I finish my work out and return to an email from my HR department.

I requested a sit-down chat, just to see where I am career-wise, what my options are...you know, check in. I'm scheduled for Friday. I'm psyched because I know I'm doing much more than I'm compensated for and I'm worth more than they realize. And I don't know many people who don't feel the same way about themselves...but the squeaky wheel...blah..blah.

So after I say Friday at 11am will be swell Matt, thanks!... I notice my message light is on...and I hear a very excited voice asking me to return the call. I don't know what it is, but my father's voice ...especially when he's excited, makes you want to return the call with the speed you only have when you want to hear juicy gossip.

So I return Charles Emory Jr.'s call (there was no gossip. He wanted to talk about the "Levees" documentary...which is SICK by the way. ) . I tell him about the upcoming meeting.
To which he said, "When you get there, ask for a million dollars."

I laughed.

He said, "I'm serious. When you ask for a million, and they only give you ten thousand, they'll feel like they got off easy. AND DON'T TELL THEM NOTHIN' ABOUT WHAT YOU DO. CONFUSE EM!!"

Gotta love him.

Thing is, I'm not asking for more. I just want to know where I am. I tread lightly around this place. There's a battle for the ring (precious) every single day...and I'm just Frodo tryin' to throw it in the volcano...and not get sucked up by that big eye thing. Besides. Be careful what you wish for right? It's lonely at the top and money can't buy happiness...("though it can help pay for the search" a wise musician once said.) And no matter how much smoke marketing execs blow up my Beyonce, (see the above quote)...I'd rather be happy.

So with that said, I'm getting out at a decent hour today. Gonna have some pasta and wine and spend some much needed quality time without all the hostility.
...But not before I get today's workout. (Told you, I get distracted.)

In other news...I just want to say a emo-filled goodbye to my good friend "Hanna". There's too much to say about her (hee-hee)...but all things considered, I love her. And nothing sums her up better than this statement.
"Oh..You'll see me. I'm only going to Africa..." Yes I will. Next year, in Lagos, Nigeria.
WHO'S COMING WITH ME?

But this year, it's (drum roll please...) Spain!!!! Coming In December.

PF Lito set the bait and I'm biting. It'll keep me running till December.
(But I'm serious about this blog ending in September. Tu sabe?)

-Nye


Goal: 1 Mile
Upper body free weight cardio circuit

Hot beat for today's training montage: You Say You Want It All - Amel Larrieux*

*This is the music most of you hear on my cell phone. It's on the "Bravebird" album.
Cop that.