BriannaGlenn - Yardbarker Blogs

The Single Life

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 09:18:00 -0500

This past weekend, I celebrated a friend’s imminent passing from the life of single and sometimes fabulous, to a life of wedded bliss. At this age, bachelorette parties are becoming more and more frequent and every time I get the chance to attend one of these events, I secretly sing under my breath…
…Another one bites the dust. And another one bites, and another one bites, another one bites the dust.

I kid. While the fact remains that I myself am still single and fabulous, I have yet to feel like I’m missing out on something, even though I’m getting up there in years and those around me are falling like flies. In fact, I may not ever even bother to think twice about it except that probably the most common question I get is the dreaded, ‘why are you single’???

What, may I ask, would be an appropriate answer to such a question? I honestly think it’s probably the most asinine question one could ask. It’s quite obvious I’m not a nun so I have not dedicated my life to religious devotion and given up my right to marry. Either I throw myself under the bus and claim to be totally un-dateable and un-loveable (in which case I might as well become a nun), or… I throw them under the bus and claim there are just none out there that measure up to my awesomeness. Well I won’t tell you what side of the scale I believe the truth to be found on, but if you know me you could probably take a wild guess.

I kid. The truth remains that there are a lot of fabulous single people in this world of both sexes, and for some reason they haven’t met each other yet. I believe I’m in that group and I truly believe that my future husband is as well. So I wait patiently for him and in the meantime I don’t worry about the fact that I haven’t found him yet. There is no reason for me not to be single right now and that is the most honest answer I can come up with. Besides, as fabulous as I might be, perhaps God is still working on me and preparing me for the more fabulous version that will exist in the future and knock the socks off my future hubby. If that’s the case…patience is a virtue.

In the meantime, anyone have a clever answer I could add to my arsenal?

Angels Game: Two Perspectives.

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 18:16:00 -0500

Many of my friends know that I blog. They always wonder if whatever we are doing at that particular moment will end up on the blog and what my spin on it will actually be. Yesterday I went to the Angels and Yankees game with a friend and he asked if I was going to blog about it. “Maybe”, I replied. And then he said he could probably blog it for me because he knew what I was going to say. So I told him to give it his best shot. Tell my story, in my voice, the way you think I experienced it. Even though it wasn’t as easy as he thought, he did give it his best shot. And since I had already blogged it too, I’m giving you my real version. How close did he get? (I know…it’s hard to nail down my biting sarcasm).

HIS VERSION

I decided to take the train to the Angel Yankee game last night. It's a two hour train ride, but its better than dealing with traffic, and the train arrives exactly at game time 5:00. I'm supposed to meet someone there at 5. However, he didn't show up till 6. Obviously I am annoyed by this, I can be understanding when it comes to traffic, but an hour, come on buddy. Not to mention this isn't the first time this person has made me wait before. I'm debating whether or not to turn around and go home and delete this person from my phone. Needless to say, he finally arrives and although a little annoyed we proceed to go into the game.

When going to a baseball game one of the many traditions is to experience stadium food. You can't go to a baseball game and not experience the fine cuisine. Being a bud girl, I had to partake in a couple bud lights and some sliders from Ruby's Diner. Being that it is a baseball game I also had to have a hot dog. You can't go to a game and not have a hot dog right? It would be Un-American.

The game was very entertaining, from the action on the field to the drunk yankee fans that proceeded to high five me on his way out. Even though I wasn't rooting for the yankees, I wasn't wearing my Angels red and neither was the person I was with. I can see how I can be easily confused with being a yankees fan.

All and all I had a great time at the game, and the person I was with completely made up for being late and I enjoyed his company tremendously. He walked me back to the train station, saw that I got off safely and I proceeded to enjoy my train ride home.

MY VERSION

I like going to sporting events even when I’m not a particularly big fan of the sport. Like Baseball for instance…I never watch a game on T.V. during the regular season. I’m going to need a little more action and a little more signifcance if I’m going to shell out 3 hours of my life like that. But I will go to a baseball game, and I’ll even be excited to go if it’s the playoffs. So when my friend called me up to ask me if I’d like to go to the Angel game at 5pm, when it was already 2pm and I was sitting in San Diego, I did my best to make it happen.

Not only did I make it, I made it on time. What is the implication here? The fact that he did not. If I hadn’t already traveled 2 hours by train, I would not have still been sitting there almost an hour later when he finally showed up!! I don’t appreciate waiting on people, especially when the excuse is bad traffic. This ain’t Kansas buddy, this is the 5 Freeway in Southern California at 5 pm on a workday en route to a major sporting event. You may not live here, but our traffic has a reputation, so there can be no cop out. So I did what I do best, and failed miserably at hiding my irritation.

We managed to make it into the game before either team had scored (big shocker there), so my experience wasn’t totally ruined. I then proceeded to eat 3 days worth of calories in the next 3 hours. If you can’t watch a baseball game eating and drinking the whole time, I really don’t even see the point.

The Angels ended up losing and I pretended to care but it was all for naught as I was accidentally dressed in Yankee colors and I got more hi fives than sad looks anyway. In fact, the buddies I met on the train ride home invited me to join them in their celebration. Who am I to ruin a good time? So yes, I ended up enjoying myself. And next time, he probably knows if he is going to be late to just turn around and go home.

The (HOT) Body Issue

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 09:00:00 -0500

I know I may be a little late on this, as tons of pictures have leaked on the Internet and people with subscriptions have been drooling for over a week, but can we all just take a moment and applaud ESPN’s Body Issue?! Don’t worry…if you aren’t sure yet if this is something to be celebrated, I will do my best to convince you that it is. In my opinion, if people are going to disrobe, this is the best possible way to do it. In a way that celebrates and admires the hard work that athlete’s put in to making their bodies the finely tuned machines that they are, and showing the beauty that can be found in the broad spectrum of physical form that exists in sport. But of course, if you show pictures of people with little to no clothes on, there is bound to be controversy. But I encourage people to truly see the positive messages in these pictures.

For starters, we have almost an equal number of beautiful men and women showcased. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any other huge publication that has done this. Personally, I am grateful for the ability to get my fair share of drool on. (Thank you “Gooch”.) From my understanding, people posed in as little as they could be comfortable in. So often, when it’s time to bare skin it’s the women carrying far too much of the load, but in this instance, because the focus was on athletes we were able to see both sexes represented equally. And while there still is some obvious sex appeal, that most certainly isn’t all there is. All these different body types have on thing in common—they are used to compete at the highest level of competition. That is something we all can admire, and if a little drool slips out in the process--so be it.

I have probably heard the most criticism of Serena Williams cover and I think most of it is ridiculous. She is definitely the biggest named athlete to appear totally nude (thumbs down to Adrian Peterson and Dwight Howard for not following in her footsteps), and her cover is supposedly a bit too provocative for some. Yes, she looks sexy. Good for her. Serena is workin’ with a whole lotta body, and in my opinion she works it well. I take issue with people who believe that athletes should be one-dimensional. Being a badass on the court should not diminish your femininity or your ability to put on lip-gloss and heels and pout your lips with the best of them—if that’s what you so choose. When female athletes decide that they would like to portray other sides of them, nobody should have a problem with that. Maybe it can work both ways and we can start making the Kim Kardashians of the world famous for something more than a good pout.

For me personally, what I find most refreshing about this issue is allowing each and every body to be showcased how it truly is, and in turn sending a message that if you want to work hard towards something, work towards what you see here. Pick up any other magazine, and you’ll see models who are 5’10 and weigh 110 pounds soaking wet, and that is supposed to be what a beautiful body looks like. Sure, that might be beauty to some, but it shouldn’t be what we strive for, especially when it’s darn near unattainable. Most people can only be that thin by eating crackers for dinner. What we do as athletes to be at our best on the field, court, or track, is treat our bodies like the temples they are. We eat healthy (most of the time), and we exercise and getting more people to do that would certainly be a good thing for our society. A lot of times the byproduct of that is muscles and for women that is perceived as unfeminine but every picture I saw in this magazine showed women who were feminine while being athletic. That’s a strong message and a realistic one. When I did the SI swimsuit issue last year, I was chosen as an athlete, but by the time they were done with me in Photoshop, I had my muscle mass significantly reduced and an automatic boob job. That was their standard of beauty, not what I brought to the table on my own. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mind the cleavage, but I respect these pictures a lot more.

So if you haven’t picked up your copy yet, I strongly suggest you do. It’s definitely different than what you might expect…and in a good way. The Sumo wrestler is pretty darn impressive… let me tell you. I also am curious as to what others think of it. I want to hear your honest opinions and I welcome your feedback on mine.

Spinning

Wed, 14 Oct 2009 08:16:00 -0500

I am an athlete. I don’t just mean a track and field athlete, I mean an athlete. Period. If there is something athletic to be done, I will more than likely be good at it. It’s in my blood and part of my genetic makeup. And while there are some things that I am better at than others, I always believe I will be at least above average when it comes to the general population. Well…until now.

Monday I attended spin class. They offer it at the 24 hour fitness and I walked in and was greeted by a random slice of the general population. These weren’t fitness buffs or cycling gurus, just your regular joe’s and jane’s stopping by for a good sweat. I needed to start being active and this seemed like a good place to start. Well, if I learned anything, it was to never step into a spinning class after sitting for almost a month. Many of these gen pops kicked my butt and it kind of embarrassed me. Even when I’m not in shape I still look athletic and I look like I shouldn’t be huffing and puffing after 5 minutes. But I was. And I don’t quit anything so I knew I was in this for the long haul no matter what. And long haul it was. But the important thing was that I finished. I got off that bike looking like I stepped out of the shower fully clothed and with my legs still shaking and discreetly thanked God for keeping me alive through that torture.

And because I secretly like inflicting pain on myself, I’m going back today. Well, really it’s because I’m so darn competitive I at least have to go enough to be better than average. I simply cannot let the soccer mom out spin me.

Have you guys ever tried Spinning? I need some confirmations that it’s as hard as I believe it to be! If you don’t agree…keep it to yourself. ☺

Spinning

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 08:13:00 -0500

Off-Season

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 08:00:00 -0500

You know what I’m doing on a day-to-day basis? Nothing. Well, that’s not exactly true. I get up around 10 or so and read books…go to coffee shops…watch movies…eat every fattening food I can think of…stuff like that. It’s basically what you’d call the life of a socialite. Well…the life of a broke socialite. Which if you think about it, takes all the fun out of the experience. It’s funny, because I used to think that doing basically nothing would be the life. And even now, when I explain my day to my friends they’ll claim how they wish they had my life. But guess what? They don’t really mean it just like I don’t really want it. Don’t get me wrong…I like a vacation just as much as the next person. But then after you have sat around and done nothing for too many days, you get veeeery tired of it. You shouldn’t have to put your trip to the bank on your schedule just to give your day some structure. Even eating dessert twice a day gets old. (I know. Crazy!)

I plan on beefing up my volunteering in the next few weeks, and even though it’s not time for me to get back on the track yet, I do think I will start being active. Working out 5 hours a day down to 0 is hard on the body, even though it sounds backwards, so I’ll get moving in some civilian type of ways. Perhaps a spin class or two and maybe I’ll jog by the marina and let all the people pass me as I huff and puff. The thing about our off-season is that it’s crucial that we do let our bodies truly rest and our nagging injuries that we’ve been ignoring get a chance to heal. So I know I have to respect my body enough to give it that time. But I guess that doesn’t mean I need to be a bum. So I plan on being a more productive member of society for the rest of my time until work starts back up. And perhaps I’ll cut the desserts back to one a day.

Adventures in Babysitting

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 08:00:00 -0500

You know what I love the most about babysitting? The fact that it ends. You are able to return the lovely kiddos to their rightful owners and be done with them. I’m kidding…kind of. Truth be told, there are only a few kids on Earth I will even agree to babysit period. It lies in the fact that I love them and their parents and so in my heart I feel a sense of duty that I should at one point in their years of childhood be responsible for them. If not for this strong emotion you would probably never see me alone with kids until the day I am blessed with my own. (If that day ever even comes).

This weekend my lovely sister took advantage of said emotion and coerced me into being not only Aunt B, but also babysitter Bri. Yes, I wanted to spend time with my lovely niece and nephew because it’s been months and they grow so fast you end up barely recognizing them when you let that much time go by. But I always prefer a chaperone if I can help it. She somehow took advantage of my guilty conscience though and convinced me that after a whole day spent together, she should be allowed to slip out and I should be in charge on my own. I realize it’s not too much of a sacrifice, being that I have every night to myself free of diaper duty and endless cartoons, so I “happily” obliged. I’m happy to report that everyone made it out ok. I’m sure it’s a well known fact between the two of them that Aunt B really has no rules and that I will pretty much let whatever go as long as we keep the fussing and crying to a minimum, so they did their part and I did mine. Ty is grown up enough that he has decided he actually likes me and wants to be my buddy, but Tristin still has a bit of uncertainty. This is understandable…shoot, last time I saw her she could barely utter a word and now she’s a chatterbox. Plus, she’s still in diapers. I think she can sense I’m not that diaper friendly. All in all, I think we had a good time together. They both stayed awake until their bodies naturally fell asleep, and Tristin and I ate pizza at 10pm. What are Aunt’s for??!

Here are some pics from the weekend…

-The four of us at the L.A. county fair (next time it's going to be the L.A. county park!!)

-Can you tell the kid is related to me? I teach him well!

-Of course I buy them their own! (I just forgot I was responsible for them the rest of the night.)

-I like being an AUNT! :)

Country Music??

Mon, 05 Oct 2009 09:00:00 -0500

It’s hard to tell that my mother and I are related. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve seen the pictures of us together in the hospital the day I was born, I would probably have my doubts. And it goes far beyond our physical differences. Yes, she’s 5’2 and extremely Caucasian, but the differences go far beyond appearances. Take for example what she’s doing for fun this weekend. She’s up in the mountains somewhere…camping in a tent. I think it’s something like 20 degrees at night so anything less than a nice, cozy cabin with a blazing fireplace just seems like unnecessary torture. And why is she up in the mountains? Well, because it’s hunting season. That’s right…my mother goes hunting. Well, she doesn’t exactly hunt herself but she accompanies those that do, which is mind-boggling to me—the fact that I know someone that knows someone who likes to go out in the wilderness and walk around all day in camouflage in the hopes of shooting something. And that’s the fun.

Our taste in music is no more closely related than our hobbies. Which is why she was the first person I thought of when I came across some tickets to a Brad Paisley concert. I wasn’t aware of any of his songs, but I knew he wore a cowboy hat, and therefore I knew my mother would be a fan. I, of course, would not be a fan. Of cowboy hats, boots, and plaid shirts—yes. Those things happen to be in style anyway and I have no problem with the trends. The music just isn’t something I’ve ever been able to jam to. But since our hobbies seem to have such wide degrees of separation, I figured it’s necessary to go outside my comfort zone every once in a while and this would be a lot less painful than hunting. So I called her up and invited her down to the concert. And guess what??! It wasn’t half bad. Granted, it’s not my type of music but it’s really not bad to listen to, and it’s nothing if not catchy. The guy sings the hook once and you’re ready to sing along the next time around. Not to mention the whole atmosphere was fun. Country music folks really enjoy themselves.

I’m not ready to change my presets but I am glad that I went. It was bonding time for my mother and I, and if I do say so myself…I look pretty darn cute in a Cowboy hat.

(Note: This hat had to be borrowed in the interest of picture taking but I'm thinking of investing)

Picture of the Week: Daddy's Girl

Tue, 29 Sep 2009 10:33:00 -0500

Today is just one of those days that I miss my dad. So much. It's not a holiday, or a birthday, or any other significant day in my life that is sure to bring forth overwhelming emotions. It's simply Tuesday. Sometimes it doesn't take anything out of the ordinary for you to remember all the things that made someone extraordinary and have you truly wish you could have just one more day to spend with them.

I was looking at pictures of my dad and the above one made me smile. My dad was oh so cool, and it seems as if I have followed in his footsteps. I knew there was a reason I loved my tube socks so much. I got my inspiration years ago and it obviously stuck with me. I just wish he was around to see his trend come full circle.

Home Sweet...Home?

Wed, 23 Sep 2009 09:43:00 -0500

Just one week ago, I traveled for 23 hours, on 4 flights, all the way from Greece to California, so that I could sleep in my own bed and start the wonderful process of rest and recovery. After a jam-packed summer full of ups and downs, there is nothing I looked forward to more than finally coming home. No more living out of a over packed suitcase, no more horse meet for dinner, and no more forcing my body to give me one more decent performance when it clearly was trying to tell me it was tired.

So why am I getting on a plane today to fly all the way to South Korea? Well the short answer is greediness. Sometimes it’s hard to just leave money on the table, especially when every extra dollar seems to go towards things I really need…like food, a roof over my head, etc. I can stay home and just say I’m tired and I’ve had a long season, but 6 months from now when I’m forced to eat Top Ramen for dinner, I would really kick myself for such a short-sighted decision. We’ve all read about how I got royally screwed on what I thought would be my last meet and lost out on a good bit of money, so anything I do to earn a few pennies of that money I thought I would have back, is probably a smart decision. But I assure you, this will definitely be the last one. That’s because there are absolutely no more meets anywhere on the planet, thank God. My body and my mind are more than ready for that rest and relaxation.

Spare Change and a Big Lesson

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 09:36:00 -0500

My favorite way to spend time is outside a coffee shop, with a delicious cappuccino, a good book, and some sunshine. This is my ideal me time, and the less interruptions, the better. In fact, I’m known to even put my Blackberry away, with the ringer turned off no less. Yesterday morning was the perfect sunny day in San Diego and I had settled down with my book in front of the most perfect coffee shop. (well, the closest I could find outside of Italy at least.) I was happy. I was content. I was looking forward to losing myself in the pages of the one John Grisham thriller I have somehow seemed to miss in my 3458 trips to the airport bookstore. Which is why I was probably less thrilled than normal when a man perched himself on a chair the next table over and proceeded to interrupt my perfect morning.

He started off by telling me how beautiful I was and I graciously thanked him and then quickly diverted my eyes back to my book. But I knew he wasn’t done and in my head I was expecting the next question that followed.

“Could you spare some money so that I could get something to eat?

He was homeless. San Diego has an extremely large population of homeless and any time you are in the downtown vicinity you will surely be asked on numerous occasions for any change you can spare. I have no set rule on whether or not I fork something over…sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. But this was my time, and the last thing I wanted to be was bothered. So I smiled politely and said I didn’t have any cash, just credit cards on me.

“Do you think you could buy me some food with your credit card?

I smiled politely again. “Sorry…”. And again I tried to look back down at my book. I didn’t bother to finish the sentence. Obviously I could buy food with my credit card, I just wasn’t going to. I had barely been sitting there for 10 minutes. My coffee was still hot, I was just getting into my book, and my relaxing morning was not going to be interrupted. Truth be told, I had cash. But I use this line the same way I eagerly throw out that I have a boyfriend. It’s not quite the truth, it just makes the interaction a little less painful for both of us.

He looked me in the eye and sighed, thanked me, and then got up and walked away. A few minutes passed and my eyes started to well up. He wanted food for goodness sakes. Lord knows I don’t have much, but I am beyond capable of buying somebody lunch. But I continued to sit there, tried to loose myself in the pages of my legal thriller, and failed miserably. After about 15 minutes had passed, I gathered up my stuff and set out in the direction I thought he had gone.

I found him about 4 blocks away, still unsuccessful in finding himself lunch to eat. I tapped him on the shoulder and said hello, and from his reaction I’m not even sure he remembered he had just talked to me or just thought it was cool someone was making conversation. He didn’t bring up money at all, he just started chatting about random stuff… the fact that he was from Detroit (had I ever been there and what did I think of it), his father and brothers who have a lot of money (did I have siblings), that he can ride the bus all over town for free (I saw the card)…just on and on. After about 10 minutes I said I had to get going and asked if he was still wanted something to eat.

Yea, I am hungry.

I quickly handed over the cash I did have so that he could buy what he wanted, and wished him a good day. Before I left though, he wanted to give me something in return. It was a purple and yellow key holder you wear around your neck from the local bail bondsman and while I tried to say it was ok and I didn’t need anything, he wouldn’t take it back. He assured me he could get more. I hurried away before the tears started overflowing.

I am blessed. Blessed to have a roof over my head, food always in my cupboard, and friends and family who care enough to ensure that I don’t ever have to beg someone for a meal. Not everyone does. People bless me all the time for no other reason than it was put on their heart to do so. I am thankful beyond belief and constantly feel like my thank you’s don’t do much in the way of showing my gratitude. But I was reminded that what is also important is to make sure you bless others. And while I certainly can’t empty my wallet every time a homeless person in San Diego asks for money, I believe this particular man was there to give me something. What I received from our interaction will last far beyond that afternoon. Even the tacky keychain, that is capable of holding the key to my apartment, my car key, and the storage area with all my extra stuff, is a reminder that I am blessed to have keys of things that belong to me. That is what's important.

(I am not necessarily proud in recounting how I reacted to this man at first and how I treated him, but I thought the lesson it showed me was important and so I shared anyway.)

Being a Girl Sucks

Thu, 17 Sep 2009 12:58:00 -0500

I’m an independent woman for the most part. Beyonce was totally singing about me when she sang for all her Independent gals to throw your hands up at me. I can do pretty much anything on my own…anything except kill bugs and fix cars. Which is why I am totally frustrated and helpless now that my car is sitting down in the garage totally dead. Yesterday, when I found it that way after over two months of sitting idle, (probably not smart, I know) I had plenty of help around to get me back on my way. I found someone with cables, someone to hook them up, and someone to open my hood and be the first to encounter the rabbits who had taken up residence. But that was yesterday.

Today, I again have a dead car and nobody around to help. I am far away from friends, I didn’t pass a helpful looking soul that wasn’t rushing out to the office, and I can’t locate my insurance card to see if I even have roadside assistance. I guess I’m supposed to buy a battery but who knows if you are forced to install it yourself. That would sure be scary and pretty much impossible so I’m sure they have someone who does it for you. But first comes the problem of finding someone to start my car so I can get to some sort of place that does that.

In the meantime, I’m just sitting here pouting. This is yet another reason why I really need to speed up the search for a husband because I’d prefer for this to be someone else’s problem. Oh…and did I mention I had to kill a bug this morning with nothing but a paper towel?! Sheer madness.

A lot of Lemons

Fri, 11 Sep 2009 17:42:00 -0500

Ask any athlete, and they will tell you that the most important meet after the Championships is the World Athletic Final. You make it into this meet by competing all year long at the highest tiered meets and earning points based on your finish. By the end of the year, 8 people are awarded entry into the meet…the first 7 are guaranteed their spot, and the 8th can be a wildcard if they (meet promoter) so choose and have a good reason to not just take the 8th place finisher. I struggled a little towards the latter part of my season, but thanks to my early competing on 6 different continents, I still was able to secure 7th place. Well, actually I tied for 7th place when it was all said and done. But how you get here doesn’t really matter because once you’re here, it’s anybody’s ball game. And I truly needed for it to be my day to play ball. This meet pays well and everybody makes money…better than any other meet I could possibly go to and I need that more than anything when I am about to cease making money until next season rolls around. I have no guaranteed base salary, I finished 9th when they pay top 8 at World Championships, and my bank account is in some serious need of a little security. I don’t do this for the money (obviously), but I can’t survive without it either.

Which is why I almost did a low scale freak out when I found out yesterday, the day I was flying to Greece, that I wasn’t on the start list. I have planned for this meet all year long, adjusted my schedule and competed all over the world so that I could give myself the best opportunity to make it here, and now, 48 hours before I’m supposed to compete, I’m told I might as well be flying home. Meets are fickle, that’s just part of the business, but this meet is supposed to purely be based on your performance throughout the year, and by performing well you are rewarded with the opportunity to end your season with a bang. But instead, my season will now end with a whimper, and a fairly broke whimper at that. Somehow they found a way to take the other top 7, leave me out, and use the wildcard on the girl in 9th, a well-deserving silver medalist and one of the top jumpers in the world for many years. Still…it’s not my fault she wasn’t top 8.

I try very hard not to complain because at the end of the day, I know I’m still blessed. But for so long I’ve been waiting to feel like I’ve made it far enough so that it seems like I’m not gasping for air, barely able to hold my head above water. But yet, here I am at the end of the season…without a coach, without a contract, and without this last big meet to try and make next year just a little bit more comfortable. I know it doesn’t overshadow all the bright spots, but right now the immediate future looks a little bleak. No matter what I do, I seem to be a day late and a dollar short. But sometimes that’s life, right? You just have to constantly find new ways to make lemonade.

A Jumper who Sprints

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:17:00 -0500

For my whole track and field career, I have never done just one event. As I got older, I specialized a little…slowly fading out the triple jump once I got to college, no taking the 200 seriously once I was a pro…but I have remained both a sprinter and a jumper regardless. This is what feels right to me, and even though people have told me otherwise, I have never made the decision to fully specialize in just one event. I can’t tell you my favorite, merely that I prefer whichever event is yielding better results at the time. I’d like to be great at both, and in doing so I would appreciate the different ways of being a competitor they both offer.

But I will say this…for most of my career I would definitely describe myself as a sprinter who jumps…until now. Now, I have become a jumper who sprints. And there is a difference—most notably that it has made me into a very sub par sprinter. I made a decision early on this season to put sprinting on the backburner and focus on the long jump. That basically meant that I would prepare as best as possible for Nationals to be a Long Jumper, and my competitions would be jumping instead of sprinting or doing both. My workouts didn’t change drastically but there were subtle differences. Basically, my plan worked and I got what I wanted. And I was still fast…I’m pretty sure I am faster on the runway then I have ever been and definitely the fastest jumper in the World from the data I’ve seen.

But after my last couple attempts at actually trying to run a race this past week, I’ve realized that being solely in Long Jump mode has made me lose my ability to truly sprint. It is frustrating to say the least. I cannot come out of blocks, my turnover seems stuck on my runway pace, and a whole 100 meters seems sooooo long! I know that there must be a way to be good at both. There have been athletes who are great examples of that… most notably King Carl, but that's not to say it's easy. Perhaps the formula is different for every person but for me, it seems that being a jumper who sprints instead of a sprinter who jumps is not going to cut it.

It’s not that I’m greedy. I realize being good at one event is more than many can even hope for. I have so much room to be a better jumper that some might think it’s crazy for me not to just focus on that. But in my infinite wisdom there are a few things I’ve realized. For starters, you can make money being a sprinter that you can never make by doing the long jump. This is my job, after all. And secondly, if at all possible, you should stick as close to possible to what makes you happy and doing what you love. I happen to love both. If there is a way for me to figure out how to be successful at both simultaneously then I’m going to give it my best shot.

Laundry

Sun, 06 Sep 2009 08:09:00 -0500

It’s been two months…two whole months of living out of one suitcase. That’s hard for any normal person to work with such a limited wardrobe, but as an athlete I sweat and roll around in sand in half those clothes so the opportunity to reuse that stuff is impossible. In fact, the laundry bag I keep all those clothes in is lethal. I feel sorry for any unsuspecting airport worker who goes rifling through my bag on a random check. Needless to say I must do laundry every so often. And that’s not always so easy. Finding an actual Laundromat is a goldmine. The opportunity to wash all your clothes at the same time with real detergent seems like one of life’s major blessings. But in the short amount of time we usually stay in a city, that isn’t always an option. So far this summer, here have been some of my alternative options…

*In Germany I stayed in an apartment that had a washer/dryer but with German instructions and no interpreter. Nobody could figure out how to get the thing to work properly and once you put your clothes in the dryer it would stop every 6 minutes or so and start beeping. The smell in the basement prevented you from actually staying down there while your clothes washed, so I would go down 3 flights of stairs about 7 or 8 times during a cycle to re-start it. The day before I left, the neighbor finally told me the simple problem and how to fix it.

*In Berlin I took two trains across town to use the Laundromat but was an idiot and all my whites came out with a blue tint. So the next day I trekked back with a bottle of bleach to try and salvage them. Some are passable.

*I was getting ready for a meet a few weeks ago and realized I had no more undies. So I quickly washed a pair in the sink and dryed them with a blowdryer while I brushed my teeth and finished getting ready.

*Speaking of washing in the sink…I do that often. If you have detergent...good for you. If not, regular soap or shampoo (anything in the soap family), will do. The point here is to try and get them clean enough. It also works best if you can set the stuff outside to dry. It will be a little crispy but that’s ok. Although I have had a few items blow away, so it’s best to secure them if possible.

*My last stop in Italy I was determined to do a good washing because I was pretty much out of everything. I finally set out with sketchy directions and a map from the front desk. I walked in the blistering heat, made a few wrong turns, asked directions from a multitude of people who spoke no English, and finally found what I was looking for: the Laverderia (Italian for Laundromat). It was 2:30 in the afternoon and the place was of course closed for siesta. So I left and came back at 5. I thought I was being sent to the Laundromat but this was in fact the Drycleaner. At this point I was desperate but she would not help me. She said a lot of stuff…I understood none of it. But she wouldn’t take my clothes so it meant no. I ended up paying the hotel to wash 3 things for about 20 bucks.

Right now I can make it another 2 days before I must deal with this problem again. I’m not going to bother with Italy today because it’s Sunday, and if you aren’t aware, Italians do nothing on Sunday and everything is closed. This seems a bit excessive seeing as how they already close down 3 hours a day, but maybe that’s just me. So wish me luck in Paris. If anyone knows the French word for Laundromat please pass it