Never stop moving. Just go from one step to the next until you’re done. That’s how I approached the impending month. Scheduled to work every day of August, I knew it wouldn’t shake out that way. Small concessions from co-workers broke it up into 3 legs – 9 days, 7 days and then 11 in a row. That leaves 4 days off, one of which was a dentist appointment. Working eight to ten day stretches feels like a relay race with my rent payment except sprinting and stopping is more like conditioning than an event. It’s not something I can do faster, I merely endure a set schedule. I come up for air by deliberately excavating free time well in advance.
The hard part of working every day isn’t the work. It’s the boredom. It’s being surrounded by people I can’t talk to. Free time is not longer a solid thing. I melt into the moments between obligation, finding time for necessity and luxury in weighted measure. Times like these, freedom is more intoxicating than the alcohol I drink to commemorate the occasion. A day off involves ceremony and certain tributes around my favorite locations. It’s important to maintain a presence when you are the most unavailable.
The strength of my family is the only thing getting me through these moments. Not my blood family, who still seem to stymie my dreams at every turn. The people I can reach out to when I need real help. My co-workers at Streamline and the handful of people I’ve met in the neighborhood. An ex-husband in Memphis and the ghosts of too many dead friends. There’s a certain bartender that likes to remind me how far I’ve come. Even some random dates have provided great companionship at just the right time. These things have laid a foundation more solid than concrete.
I met someone this time last year who just completed his first half marathon. I logically asked when he planned to run a full marathon. He stated that full marathons are silly because they push someone past rational physical limits. I was flabbergasted. To be clear, I don’t run for recreation. It’s a personal choice and I don’t hate on people that like doing it. But when someone chooses to run a half marathon and states that full marathons are irrational, I just assume they don’t understand the word marathon. If you’re measuring accomplishment by a specific factor, what sort of person only strives to complete half of it? This is just one of the many unanswered questions I have for a human I never got to know.
