Radio silence again. Shocker. Not dwelling on it this time though, moving on. There have been a couple of big happenings in my life recently and I think this is a fine time to address them. Number one, I negotiated with my cable provider and now am the recipient of free Showtime. Game changer, I’ll tell you that. Also a major player in the lack-of-motivation-to-blog situation. Second, I trained for and will [hopefully] complete my first half marathon tomorrow morning, though I will especially not dwell on that because I don’t want this blog to turn into one of those, ‘I run, I eat clean, I recycle’ blogs. Don’t worry, recipes for kale chips and information on composting will not appear here. I take pride in my Yeti-sized carbon footprint. But that event ties in nicely with my final happening, which is that I started reading The Hunger Games trilogy. I recently finished the second, so no third book spoilers from anyone who has finished already. Anyone who knows me even in the slightest knows I have an obsessive personality and those books were not spared from my wrath. I’m hungry and the only medicine is more Hunger Games. I’m trying to savor them, which is kind of like trying to savor the most god damn delicious thing you’ve ever eaten in your life. There’s no disputing, I also have a bit of a taste for hyperbole.
Those books are so under my skin, it’s progressed far beyond a normal “I have dreams about the books” sort of a reaction. I legitimately think I may live IN Panem sometimes. I’m stroking my braided hair as I write this. And that brings me to my latest, crossing the fine line between obsession and insanity experience. Unfortunately, they’re becoming daily:
I was picking up my race bib and packet yesterday and walked through the grounds of where the race will be held. Or should I say, the arena. Between the event posters, dramatizing the race, lines for ‘participants’, and expo booths advertising gear and training, I swear I was transported to the Capitol where my race was actually The Games. It also doesn’t help that 1. Washington, DC is the capital of the United States, 2. We have a building…called the Capitol and 3. The event start and finish is at Stadium-Armory, off of East Capitol Street. You can’t judge me for insanity yet, those are just the facts.
But now you can. I walk in, the members of the National Guard ushering us into lines, can you say Peace Keepers? Walking through the metal detectors and having my bag checked was like being welcomed to the training center, where the suspicious eyeing of a tampon, should it be a weapon that could give me an unfair advantage, mimicked the security measures for tributes involved in the Games. There’s the phony smiles of other participants, barely concealing either the smugness or envy as we check one another out, knowing that none of us will ‘win’, per se, but silently comparing who will get a better time. Like tributes sizing up their competition, wondering what skills he or she could be harboring, I found myself staring at the calves of the girl in front of me, which I deemed not as toned as mine, but wondered if they housed her powerhouse, whereas mine fatigued easily. She seemed solid, like she’d be a good swimmer. District 4, I decide. Another girl a few feet away, about the same age as me, clad all in Lululemon, fingered a pair of designer running shorts in one of the expo’s boutiques. She, like a tribute from Districts 1 or 2, clearly had the money to blow on expensive gear. I thought back to my clothes at home, a worn out pair of three-year old Nike capris, a faded Hanes tank top and faux-Under Armor from Target and realized I was more of a District 12 competitor. Also clearly a first time runner. The underdog. Whatever, I brushed the thought away, and remembered Hunger Games 101, it’s not just the gear that makes a victor. I was going to channel the shit out of Katniss and make Lululemon my bitch. Then suddenly it was my turn to pick up my packet and I realized that just last day dream is probably enough to institutionalize me.
Whatever, book three is waiting for me at the finish line.
Photo cred to Yahoo! Movies.