My roommate is running a marathon, so inevitably the big race and her training regimen come up from time to time. During my half marathon last year, I distinctly remember that my only goal going into the race (aside from not walking) was to appear to be the jolliest, most excited runner to cross anyone's path. Every mile was another excuse for overzealous high fives and smiles so big, they must have mistook me for Julia Roberts. I gave tens to the spectators and waved my approval at their terribly written, cheesy signs. It even got to the point where I signaled a rock fist symbol at one of the bands. I honestly can't report on the likelihood of the rock fist's irony or not. My memory is hazy due to the contact high with the groovy jams on my playlist.
At first I was pretending to be that happy. It was no more than a game, but if you've ever seen a Freddy Prince Jr. teen romantic comedy, you know that pretending leads to real feelings.
We're not going to live without recollecting the past, so let's get on with pondering past pondering.
That half marathon was a blast. I don't remember it like it was yesterday, but I remember it like it was last week. The weather was perfect and Dallas looked pristine. I smiled most of the time and ran like Kanye was DJing my life.
Why not talk about our work (slash, whatever!) so fondly and so graciously, that we actually trick ourselves into loving it? Not tolerating it, and not being greedy with it. Just good old fashioned gratitude with the party favor being sweet memories. We're going to have the memories either way, so why not mold them to our liking?
Thoughts? Do you agree? Disagree?