I Can't Get That Time Back...

There's a "friend" of mine from high school that I reconnected with recently. She went through some hard times and I guess, I was around to be someone she could talk to.

So, for about a month and half, we talked on the phone, almost every day. And for those that know me, this is fascinating because I absolutely abhor talking on the telephone. Like, it drives me insane.

Now, to be clear, "talking" on the phone might be a stretch as I didn't do much talking. If we spent three hours on the phone, I talked maybe 10-15 minutes. I usually listened... and listened... and listened, with an occasionally "uh huh," "hmm," and "right" sprinkled in sporadically.

But, hey, that's neither here nor there. So, she tells me about her frustrating living situation, so I invite her to my house for the weekend to get away, actually sleep in an adult bed, relax and do what you want to do without being  bombarded my family members at every turn.

So, she comes to the crib and there's absolutely nothing. And like I tried. I honestly did. I tried to find the connection, but it was like "Where's Waldo?"

So, I invited her to sleep in my bed. I mean, I laundered my shit and cleaned the room up really nicely. She wanted to sleep on the couch, which kind of defeated the purpose of the invite. No put aside the fact I hate anyone sleeping on my couch, I was low-key offended.

Anyway, three days later, I take her home and go on about my life, because there's no way we're talking again, right? I mean, I thought there was a mutual understanding amongst both of us that there wasn't anything there. Of course, a week went by with no  interaction and I thought it was established that this was the case.

So two weeks later, I get a text. Nothing major; just trivial shit. The following morning I send a text asking where everything is, because while I'm excellent at reading in between the lines, even when it's something I don't want to accept, I'd rather be told up front what the deal is as opposed to wonder and put the pieces together through clues and shit. I'm too grown for Sherlock Holmes-esque games.

I get a response saying everything is cool and that she's been busy. Now, you weren't busy the last two months when you were talking my ear off, but now all of a sudden you're busy? Cool deal. Take care.

Now... I find out that she's been taking subliminal shots and jabs at me through social media. Posting tweet grams and shit starting the day after I dropped her off.

If being propositions to sleep into bed is wrong, the hell with you. As a friend of mine on Twitter said, "your pussy is not a diploma; motherfuckers don't have to earn that shit." Thinking you're better than me is mistake number one. Next mistake is thinking your time is just as valuable as mine. It's not.

To top it off, I asked what the deal was.  I asked if everything was cool. That was the door to tell me how offended you were that I offered my bed to you.

I'm hypocritical at times. I've been known to take shots at people in social media. Not by name, but those people have see. It and returned the favor in kind and vice-versa. I know those people though.

This young lady on the other hand , doesn't know me nearly as well as she thinks she does to be taking shots at me.

Maybe it's old age, but I'm blunt. If I want something, I'll say it. No beating around the bush. My time is short so I get right to the fucking point and say what I mean. I always implore the people I interact with to do the same.

Nothing Funny About Stand-Ups

How does one make date plans with someone, pick the day, place and time a week in advance and then the morning of, pull out of the plans they made, citing financial hardship? Now, I know what you're saying. "Sting, that's just ridiculous. Maybe something came up or that day was bad. Things happen," right?

I can accept that, if this wasn't part of a pattern. Aside from the fact that every single time that we went out, Sting was the one who always paid...always, there is something  really shit-actular about being stood up and/or canceled on multiple times. And it's not like this is someone I just met. I've known this person since middle school.

What really upset me was how this person, who claims to be such a good friend of mine and have the utmost respect for me, would constantly show a lack of respect  towards me and my time.

It's funny. When we decided to go down this road, we pretty much made a promise to one another that if either of us had a change in feelings, we'd let the other know out of respect for the other and the "friendship." Apparently, someone forgot about this conversation.

The Price is Right... Right?

My social life is like The Price is Right. I dwell on Contestants Row more often than not. I've gotten the chance to spin the big wheel a few times. I made it to the Showcase Showdown, on two extremely rare occasions, only to come up heartbroken due to carelessly overbidding.

Maybe one day I'll take home that grand prize. One day... :-)

Back to Training

So, I completed my first 8k charity race, 2012 Acumen Solutions Race for a Cause, in October on behalf of United for DC, the charitable arm of my DC United, my favorite soccer team. The completion time was 51:20, which wasn’t bad for someone who didn’t train as hard as they should have. I started to break down around the third mile. I officiated five soccer matches the day before, which in hindsight, didn’t do my legs any favors and didn’t eat prior to the race, but no excuses. I didn’t quit, which was something I’m most proud of.

I enjoyed the race and immediately started looking for future races. I’ve always liked running as it was the easiest exercise to do given that I grew up playing soccer.  I’m registered for the 2012 YCF Jingle Bell Jog 5k on December 1^st and the 2012 Run with Santa 5k on December 9^th. I’ve signed up with a new gym that opened up along my walking path three miles from my house, which is under the same umbrella as the first gym I signed up for in 2008. I love the fact that it’s truly 24 hours, unlike the previous gym I was a member of which was 24 hours Monday-Thursday. I still have trouble sleeping, so its awesome that there’s a gym within walking distance that I can go to at all times of the night to go work out.

My goal is definitely to get back to, at the very least, walking every day, which was something I did coming off of my juice fast. I was at my best, when I walked every day. Great stress reliever, but with my job schedule getting even more hectic, I’m finding it really hard to find the time. 

Long Time, No Blog...

It’s been a while (since April) that I’ve written a blog. I’ve been really busy; and considering I’m constantly in the field and when I’m home, I’m typing multiple reports a week on case cases for my job, which doesn’t leave a lot of time or motivation to hammer out my thoughts.

So, let’s fill in the time. Since April, I’ve changed jobs. I’m working for the government now. It’s pretty cool; no day is ever the same and I get to meet different people everyday and hear some of the craziest stories. It gets hectic at times and I’m always racing against the deadline, but it keeps me alive. Because my job schedule is so hectic, I had to resign as head coach of my youth soccer team. I didn’t think it was fair to my children and the boys and girls club to not be able to fully devote the time needed to teach and develop the players.

However, I got certified as a United States Soccer Federation (USSF) referee in August and opted to officiate in the league that I coached in for my first season. While my players from my youth team were dispersed into other age groups, I did get to see many of them play as I officiated some of their games. Officiating was a great release for me. I got to work out and still participate in the sport I love without devoting an incredible amount of time. I officiated over 25 games this season and best of all, I got paid to do so, something I wouldn’t have, had I stuck with coaching. This is something that has me on the fence about resuming my coaching responsibilities for the spring 2013 season.

This year, I’ve been trying to do new and challenging things in life. I went skydiving in June while I was in Pennsylvania during training. That was quite the experience, considering I’m scared of heights, but I felt free as a bird, no pun intended, freefalling for one minute before floating back to Earth.

I got my motorcycle license in September, which was an experience in itself. First time on a motorcycle, but I conquered it and if it wasn’t for my lack of funds, I’d have a motorcycle sitting in my shed right now. My goal was to own one prior to my 30^th birthday, but I fell short of that. I hope to have one by summer 2013.

I did complete a first time archery class, which was pretty fun. I thought I would do a lot better than I thought I would, but it’s definitely harder than it looks. I plan to pursue it a little more as it was exciting. I definitely have to work out more to get stronger and feel more confident holding the bow and drawing back the arrow. It’s an expensive hobby, but depending on how much it is, will determine the length and duration I take the classes.

I plan to go skydiving again as I purchased a living social deal back in March that is still unused. I also want to go rock climbing before the year is out. I’d like to get a solid 30 days of gym time to improve my overall conditioning prior to doing so.

So, that’s pretty much what I’ve been up to. 

The Memory Remains...

April has consistently been the worse month of the year for me, for several years.  If anything bad was in the “cards” for me, chances are it would come to fruition in April.

On this day, 10 years ago, I should’ve died.  I hit rock bottom and it hurt every bit as much as you hear in people’s stories.  I was in college, had a beautiful girlfriend and was trying to find my way in life as a young adult.  It was tough, at times, but I made do.  Coursework struggled because I was working two jobs to save money.

On the morning of April 21, 2002, I found out my girlfriend who was five months pregnant with our baby girl had a miscarriage.  So much pain; I remember crumpling to the floor and sobbing…

I can recall the relentless migraine that plagued me for the remainder of the day.  I don’t know how, but that night, after consuming more Motrin and Ibuprofren than I should have, I finally found myself drifting off, for what I thought would be the last time.

A few hours later, I woke up thinking Hell looked a lot like my dorm room.  When the sun came up, I got up and just sat on the couch.  There are only a couple of people that really know the details; and many of them say it was a suicide attempt.  I don’t recall much of anything that day, let alone eating any food, but I do remember trying to get rid of the worst migraine I’ve ever had, when in reality, no medication existed to ease the pain that I was really experiencing.

I was a broken man, both physically and mentally.  It reminds me of a scene in Justice League Unlimited when Superman fights Doomsday inside a volcano.  As the two sides trade blow after powerful blow, their epic fight triggers a volcano eruption.  Superman is near death and gives his all to subdue his foe in the overflowing lava.  Seeing the oncoming wave of molten lava approaching, he collapses, falling to his knees, not having the strength or energy to avoid it; basically accepting his fate.   

Just as the lava is about to rush over his body, Wonder Woman, who was told by Superman to evacuate the people from the island, swoops in, and barely pulls her friend out of harm’s way.

That’s how I felt on April 21, 2002 upon hearing the news that my aspirations of becoming a father were taken from me, except there was no one to rescue me from the tidal wave of heartache, sadness and despair.  I didn't attend any of my classes for the next couple of days. I had to get my mind right. I almost died; this was something I had to come to grips with. I didn’t think I would ever return to my former self.  I lost so much weight boiling in a cauldron of depression.  I just wanted to be left alone; wanted to escape from everyone and everything

Looking back, this was one of the key events in my life that triggered my loss of faith.  I’ve had people tell me, “everything happens for a reason,” which is a cop-out excuse; something I didn’t want to hear at the time...  

I lost my family.  My relationship never recovered from the tragic event.  There was resentment, guilt, blame.  Our love turn to hate.. We were young, we both were wronged; cheated, but with no discernible person to blame, we both chose to blame each other, and sometimes blame ourselves.

The bottom line was on April 21, 2002, I was supposed to die.  I should have.  I did more than knock on death’s door.  I tried to missile dropkick it down.  

Yet… here I stand.

For whatever reason, death wasn’t home on April 21st.  Perhaps, I was given a second chance at life; perhaps, my story remained unfinished because no one likes an unfinished story.  Call me crazy, you certainly wouldn’t be that far off, but perhaps I have a lot more to offer the world.

April 21, 2002 has a lot of meaning.  It was the day I was reborn, not in the religious sense, but in the sense of seeing life from an entirely different perspective.

Terry McDowell, my late childhood friend who tragically passed away a few years ago was born on April 21st.  My Aunt Gloria was born on the same date, as well.

This day is symbolic for so many reasons, some are hard to express in words.  I struggled just to write this.  It was painful relieving some of the events.  However, I understand that its a day of life and I will do whatever I can to celebrate it as such.

"[April 21st] I was supposed to die.  So I'm out here celebrating my post-demise."

First Kick: Weekend Recap

This past weekend was one of the busiest, most eventful weekends I’ve had in some time. The days leading up to it were stressful, which is putting it mildly, as I prepared for my youth soccer team’s first game of the spring season.

It wasn’t the lack of preparation that had me stressed. It was the uniform and player identification card crisis that developed days before Saturday morning’s game that had me in a tizzy. With 16 young, bright and talented players, this is the largest roster I’ve ever coached. As I’ve said many times, it’s too large. The ideal team is 11 or 12 players as it allows you to make a set line-up and tailor your reserves to your strengths and in-game situations.

With the size of this roster, it’s a struggle ensuring everyone gets adequate playing time, all the while capitalizing on the enormous amount of talent you do have in an effort to… win the game.

As far as uniforms, we received them at the last minute and were short a few pairs. On top of that, they weren’t the greatest uniforms, with brand new shorts but just regular used t-shirts. I’m a prideful person. I conduct myself accordingly and I’ve trained these kids long and hard for several weeks. I want them to reflect that work, dedication and passion when they step on the field. Looking at these uniforms, with some in less than stellar condition, I didn’t think the team would exude that confidence come game day.

So, I did what I thought had to be done… I placed an order for brand new uniforms and patches. After all is said and done, I would’ve spent close to $800. I guess I’m going to be coaching and fundraising for the next few years.

Then, there were the ID cards. In an effort to make competition fair and balanced, the county mandates that every player have an ID card, which is checked prior to the start of every game, to ensure players are playing in the right age group. In the past, clubs would recruit older, more advanced children to play down in an effort to win.

So, the last couple of days, we’ve been scrambling trying to find everyone’s player card which is passed along from sport to sport within the Boys & Girls club. Keeping track of the cards is a nightmare alone. We found 15 of 16 cards, so we had to make due.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep last week. Lack of sleep and overall stress has resulted in my face looking a complete wreck; my body’s way of showing me I need to take better care of myself.

Saturday arrived and my players took the field. In all actuality, despite what everyone thought, the kids didn’t look bad in the uniforms. Once the game started, they played even better; taking a lead 3-1 going into half time. Despite some unbalanced line-up changes that I made in the second half, in an effort to get everyone playing time and keep parents happy, the undermanned opponents tied the game. However my team held on for their first victory of the season, 7-3.

They were happy and confident after the game, but I had to remind them that although it feels good to win, we did let a team with only five players score three goals on us; and two of the goals conceded were because we gave up and didn’t even try to defend.

We have a lot of work ahead of us and not every game will be this easy. If we want to win and contend for a championship, we’re going to have to fight for it every single week.

***

I felt so good after the game that I went to Rita’s to treat myself to a cookies n’ cream Blendini. It was the first time I had consumed ice cream since coming off my juice fast and it was awesome.

I then stopped by my old job down the street and shot the shit with all of my old co-workers who still work there. It was fun seeing and chatting with them again. It’s been four years since I last worked with them, but you couldn’t tell by our interaction. It seemed like another day on the job.

I then got a chance to hang out with my best friend as we tackled the St. Charles Mall in Waldorf and grabbed a bite to eat at WOW Wingery, a place I had never heard of until Saturday. Food was good. I opted to get a baked chicken wrap. The waitress was very cute, too. She wasn’t in the greatest shape, but it’s something about women that aren’t rail thin that I’m attracted to. She wasn’t out of shape, but she had a cute, little tummy and her voice was very soothing.

It brought me great joy watching her walk towards me and away from me. I just stared longingly at her.

Speaking of which, I spent the majority of the weekend in Maryland and let me tell you, the women are so fine. I miss this living in Virginia. Don’t get me wrong, the women in Virginia are nice to look at too, but they’re different from Maryland ladies. It’s just what I grew up on and coming back “home” and seeing the wealth of beautiful ladies everywhere made me feel good.

***

Speaking of feeling good, as we left the restaurant, I started telling my best friend how I’ve discovered this newfound confidence since doing the juice fast and dropping almost 30 lbs. As I was saying it, my friend stopped at the intersection and then this big, black muscle man running with no shirt on, runs through the cross walk.

Despite my weight loss, I still look nothing like that. This dude was jacked (perhaps even on HGH, who knows, his muscles had muscles) and in that very moment, he took a proverbial shit on my brimming confidence.

Last Monday made one month since completing my 30 day juice fast challenge. I weighed myself fully expecting to have put on, at the very least, five pounds of the weight I had lost since I started eating solid food again. When I finished the juice fast at the beginning of March, I weighed 174 lbs. When I weighed myself last week, I was at… 172 lbs. I couldn’t believe it

I felt heavier walking around, so thinking there was an error with the scale, I let it reset and weigh again. 172 lbs. I lost two pounds while eating. I was amazed. Now, I had been working out a lot. I try to walk/run 3 miles a day after work. It’s a great stress reliever, but with everything going on with my soccer team, I slacked off a little bit.

I told myself that I would work out hard this week, striving to get up every morning at 5 am to do my three mile run, to make sure I keep the weight off. It sounded great in theory, but I failed in the execution. Not a single morning did I get up and go run. I did one 3 mile run all of last week. I did workout with my kids at soccer practice, but that’s not the same.

So, this morning, I dreaded stepping on the scale. I figured, I got lucky last week, losing weight and not really doing anything. I couldn’t possibly be as fortunate this week. I stepped on and as it calculated, I guessed 175-176 as the weight.

The scale read… 169.2 lbs. I stood there dumbfounded. No fucking way. I got off, reset it, and got back on. 169.2 lbs. I haven’t weighed less than 170 lbs since 2001 when I weighed a staggering 155 lbs. Reflecting, I don’t approve of the way I got there. I was in a dark place and depression played a big part in the weight loss. But today, was different.

Honestly, I was angry. I was angry at myself for losing weight when I didn’t do anything to deserve it. I lost 3 lbs while eating, consuming an ice cream shake and just being gluttonous. Why was I rewarded? Deep down, I think I wanted to see 175 lbs. I wanted to see it to get angry, motivated and back on the grind.

I’m going to channel that “make-believe” anger. I need to get in the gym. I have to get on the weights, because I’m hoping to play in the adult soccer league this summer and while being slim is great for speed, it’s not worth sacrificing my core strength, which is utter shit right now.

The challenge now… is to challenge myself to do it. And if I’ve come this far, what’s stopping me now?