last name EVER, first name GREATEST

I love writing because it’s impossible, at least for me, to take myself seriously when writing random thoughts. Next time I’m at a function that requires me to wear a nametag that is what I’m going to write… Hello, my name is GREATEST. Ohh the looks and questions that would come, but then again, in this day and age when people are named after numbers, shoes, animals and magazines, GREATEST may seem a trite dull. I humorously mentioned to my husband that I wanted to be THAT person, who when conversations turned to events, adventures, etc., I would be the person to say, DID THAT! It actually came from some rap song where the rapper sings diiiidddd thaaaatt. My husband said I wanted to be a topper, you know, that person who tries to one-up you and I guess that may be what it is, but for me, it’s more about the look of surprise and utter astonishment that I would probably get from people. See, I don’t look like the adventurous type. I don’t and I know it, which is why I’m embarking on my DID THAT journey. It’s my version of a bucket list and since I’ve never known anyone to die from or because of having kicked a bucket, my theory is B or B: Bust! Body or Bank Account: Bust – whichever one goes bust first. The rapper Eve bills herself as a pitbull in a skirt. Me, I’m more of a hybrid/crossbreed. A nail-polished, jewelry studded poodle with the heart of a human, strength of a Rhinoceros Beetle, tenacity of a Grizator (grizzly/gator) and Honey Badger. Take a minute to process that visual.  Point is, stop judging by what you see, but since we know that ain’t gonna happen, me and my DID THAT journey will continue. Try it. Next time somebody is talking about something they did or whatever, just say, DID THAT and watch their reaction. If you do it, let me know how it goes. As for me, I’m no topper or one-upper, not my style because I really don’t care about you or what you have because I already think I’m cooler than you – cue the song.

Don’t let the smooth taste fool you.

Nothing irritates me more than when people dismiss you and/or your knowledge because you don’t “look like” you would know what they were talking about. I’m a runner. I’m not long or lean but nevertheless, I’m a runner. I don’t run fast but I do run. I’m also a cyclist and Triathlete but this rant is more about runners and our culture. I don’t like running with people because if they don’t have good energy (meaning, if I don’t get the warm and fuzzies when I talk with you, umm, chances are your Chi is off) then I’m uncomfortable and feel awkward. So, I was at a Sunday run and as I was trotting in, another faster runner came back and ran in with me. While I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t want it but remember the hand over the mouth deal with God, so on we went. When the rest of the runners had returned, there was conversation about the gear myself and another runner was wearing. The runner who ran in with me made the comment, “you probably don’t know Ryan” now, I don’t like to embarrass people because remember, I’m sensitive, so I said, chippily, “no, I know Ryan, he’s the pancake guy in the Nissan ads” her lips said nothing, her eyes did the “look up/down” as if to say, YOU know who he is. See, it’s preconceived notions of what constitutes normal that makes me want to roundhouse kick to head some people. When I set out on a journey, I do my research. In running, I have spring/summer and fall/winter gear, shoes, magazines, articles, in other words, whatever my interest at the time, I immerse myself in the culture. Too bad the culture doesn’t do the same. When MLK gave his speech, he should have included the athletic and non-athletic, fat and skinny, slow and fast, etc. Because I ‘clare fo Lord (circa Bernie Mac) just because I don’t look like what you think I should look like doesn’t mean I’m not getting it done. On race day, when it’s 40 below or pushing 100 degrees, we are all the same. Sweaty, funky, grumpy, hungry gazelles, hippos, and giraffes, spitting, farting and jockeying for position to make it back to our pride. My kick may not be as high, my strides may not hit 180 but I am no less a runner. Doing my best Jay-Z — blasting T.I “you might see in the street but remember you don’t know me. Save all the hatin’ and that poppin’ remember, you don’t know me” as I brush you off my shoulder.