The Bigger Monster Ahead

Yesterday, I had a small crisis, which was comprised of a few smaller crises.  You see, along with the monster that I chose to commit to slaying by this time next year (running a marathon), I also chose to slay an even bigger monster who lives in a much further-away lair.  This monster is the famed PhD monster.  When I was a Junior undergraduate, back in 2004, I decided to pursue Philosophy as a profession.  I got all wrapped up in Epistemology, Metaphysics of Mind, Distributive Justice, and all that glamor (I'm sure you all understand, no one is immune to it!), and decided that my passion lay therein.  I started looking to graduate schools and committed to obtaining my PhD in Philosophy and becoming a professor.  I certainly took the first steps toward that goal; I got my B.A., I started grad school, attempting to get my Master's with the plan of applying to a semi-prestigious PhD program.  Somewhere in there, I had some personal snags (I really will have to tell that story sometime, it's my own personal "Fear and Loathing", but on a longer timeline, and less "cool"), and my academic situation became a small wreck.

Now, however, with my life back on track mentally, I am finding it a little frustrating that I will have to fix so much damage in order to build my life.  I need to lengthen my school tenure a little longer just to get my M.A. in good standing.  Then, there are the student loans that have lapsed into the payment period.  I am now close to getting a job, but if I get it, it will only allow for night classes (of which the Philosophy department usually only offers one per semester, if even that).  I need to take two classes next semester, and ace them both, to get back up to the GPA where I need to be.  Couple all of that with the fact that I am flat broke and in need of a car that I am not constantly fearing will die on me, and you have the background for the past few days.

So now, when I report that I had somewhat of a meltdown in front of my lady yesterday, it will come as less of a surprise.  We all have lapses in faith.  We all have times when what we are trying do seems like too much, and we are ready to give in, and just take the road that everyone else has resigned to taking.  However, not all of us are fortunate enough to have that time in the company of someone who cares enough to look at you, infuriated, and yell "if you're thinking that you're going to just give up and work the 9 to 5 now, that's just ridiculous.  I have no wish to be with someone who would just do that."  And that is the difference between how it used to be for me, and how it is.  This woman, with whom I was just hours before having a huge argument about people that I had known in the past, still managed to let me know that she wasn't going to let me turn in my dreams for a handful of bullshit.  For that, I am infinitely grateful.

With that all behind me, and with a renewed sense of direction and commitment, I got up, stretched and pushed myself.  I modified my running style a bit, based on a video I watched of how marathoners run.  I gotta say, it was a little easier to keep a constant pace that way.  I pushed past my old mark, running just over 4 miles (6.5 km), and did it in just under 36 minutes, which means that my pace was about 8:48 per mile.  Granted, that is a lot slower than what I'll need to do to run a marathon in less than 3:30, but I have moved up a bit in the distance running world.  My foot was throbbing by the time I finished, but it's not hurting so much as I type this.  As for the foot, it's nothing that new shoes can't fix.  But as for the rest of the journey ahead, I'll need to make sure I always have that someone who makes me press on when I don't think I have the juice.  She knows who she is.

If it Is Broke

There are some days in which I come to a realization, have an epiphany or sorts, if you will.  The formula for these days is usually the same.  The day begins uneventfully.  I crawl out of bed as Erin is getting ready for work, I make her lunch, make some coffee, make breakfast, and read the day's news.  But after all that, after the burned, old coffee is poured down the sink, something happens that changes the tone of the day.  Many times, I am moved by something I read on the internet or hear on one of the many NPR programs to which I listen daily.  But sometimes, I am forced, by some adversity, to change my way of thinking or behaving right on the spot.  Just such a forcing happened yesterday afternoon.

I have class at NIU on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2pm.  Given that it takes about 45 minutes to get there from my home, and I usually need to find parking on the street to avoid paying, I leave at around noon.  This day in particular, I had to get a book I had put on hold at the library, one that I need for class and was hoping to have before class met.  I made it to within about 5 miles of the campus when my car, the old beast, started running in a rough, but familiar way.  I had experienced my share of flat tires on various cars in my time, and I knew that that's exactly what I'd see when I pulled over and examined the front passenger's side tire.  I didn't hit anything (that I felt or saw, anyway), and I didn't hear a blowout.  But there my tire was, staring at me like an unenthusiastic child at a birthday party, who just can't bring himself to get excited about the ball pit.  This is a hurdle, yes, but it was one that could be jumped.  However, this happened at about 1:10 pm, which left me 40 minutes to change the tire and find a place to park.  That was, if I decided to forget about the fact that I could not drive the 40 or so miles of country road on a spare.  This tire being on the tall-grass and gravel filled shoulder of a country road also appeared to make placing a jack under my car quite difficult. 

Now, had this happened to me a mere year and a half ago, even while I was living right near campus, I would have thrown in the towel on class and lamented for a while before doing anything productive.  But, almost as if I knew the bigger stakes of this battle, I jumped into a different mode.  I thought to myself: at the very least, I cannot handle this how I would have handled it before.  I have just skated by on the least amount of effort for a large portion of my life.  I am not living like that anymore.  I have the jack, the spare, the tire iron, and I'm not far from campus.  More than anything, I just need to get to class.  If I can show myself that I'm serious about my life's work, especially at this early stage of it, that will kick me into high-gear.  Realizing this, I pried the spare tire, jack, and iron from my trunk, and got to work.  The car was on uneven ground, gravel, sloping downward, and I wasn't even sure that I could get the jack to actually lift the car enough to change the tire without the jack slipping out from under.  Having totally unjustified faith, and some kind of determination, I jacked the car up, unscrewed the rusty bolts on the wheel, and drove 5 sweaty, black grease-handed miles to the repair shop.  I made it to the hall where my class is in just enough time to wash most of the grime off my hands and wipe the sweat off my face in the academic building's bathroom.

I walked into class a little tired and uncomfortable, hoping for the best.  Within 5 minutes, I was fully absorbed in the class, having forgotten pretty much all the struggle it took to deal with that tire.  After class, I went to the library and got the book I had been waiting for.  We didn't even get to the chapter from that book in class, go me.  So what did this prove to me?  Well, just like the most pleasurable of moments, the grueling, arduous moments of a difficult task pass after a short time.  So if I can count on that, and stick to it (whatever it may be), I will feel much better in the end, and get the fuel to keep going.  I'm not going to be so bold as to claim that if I hadn't pushed myself to run further and longer yesterday morning, I wouldn't have had the perseverance to get to class as I did.  I'm just going to say that perhaps in learning to push myself and stay focused something simple, I am also learning to push myself and stay focused in the bigger things.  Today is an off day.  I plan to get a little work done, and make some homemade chocolate chip cookies as well, prepared for any culinary flat tires that may come up along the way.

Bumping Into History

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have class. Those are good days. If you would have talked to me 2 years ago, I wouldn't be the least bit excited about class. You see, I started my undergraduate degree at Northern Illinois University in 2001. I graduated with my B.A. in Philosophy in 2005, and entered directly into the graduate program. Then, I kind of hit a wall. In 2007, I had a series of personal hang-ups. There was an unhealthy relationship, substance abuse, alienation, the whole nine. By Fall of 2007, when I should have been done with my M.A. in Philosophy, I had lapsed into oblivion. I had not completed my graduate work in Philosophy, but decided to try my hand at Political Science, as it was also an interest of mine. In an odd "settlement" with the woman I had been dating at that time, we no longer lived together, but were still in a relationship. I found 3 other grad students with which to live, all of whom, like myself, had spent 2 years in the Philosophy department, but started pursuing another Master's Degree in another field. Within the year that I lived with them, I experienced some of the most turbulent times in my life. I had legal troubles, scuffles, arguments, binges, you name it. It all ended with me leaving school and leaving the apartment.

Fast forward 18 months, and I bump into one of the roommates with whom I was suitably close before I moved in with him. After the year ordeal, not so much. As I approached him, I could see that he was a bit hesitant of how I would act. I merely made a few jokes about us being old eternal academics and asked him how he was doing. I asked about his boyfriend (he is gay, now follow along, people) and his future plans. I told him a bit about what I had been through. But somewhere in the middle, I apologized. I let slip a sincere and unequivocal apology for the way I had acted and imposed upon him and the others in our year of cohabitation. He seemed surprised at first, but thanked me, and assured me that if anything, it made for good storytelling. Was it a big thing? No. Did it matter? Absolutely. It's a been a few months since I've really had to be humble. But this encounter reminded me of just how necesarry it is, when you have been where I have, to practice humility. I am still just trying to make it, and I can't pretend not to be. The ex-roommate and I parted ways, and I scuttled off to Metaphysics class, where I learned a bit about identity, kind of. If you wish to be bored by details, send me an email, I can provide you with thrilling class notes. [note: the italics were meant to convey sarcasm for the sake of those reading, I actually do find the metalinguistic analysis of the identity relation enthralling]

The Rundown:
Today, I ran the longest I have run to date. My hamstrings were sore from yesterday, both from running a short 2 mile and from helping my girlfriend (Erin)'s mom rip up the floors in the house she just bought. But I decided to stretch those suckers out and just hit the road. I actually didn't have a plan, as I felt that the scheduled 1/2 mile run (5min) - 1/4 mile walk (3min) - 3/4 mile run (8min) - 1/4mile walk (3min) - 1/2 mile run (5min) was too light.
The following is what I did:

10 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run 

The total was just over 2.64 miles. Woooo.