Grad School: not just for intellectuals.

...and we're officially in the time of insanity.

My schedule these days is nuts.

Work until 2. Guard until 5. Class until 9:30.

Though, I'm at my best this way. It's less time, which means I'm forced to be productive. I don't see everyone as often as I would like, but it keeps me going.

So far, graduate school is...

Just like undergrad.

Maybe it's because I'm in the education field. Maybe it's because it's only Master's level work. I don't know.

I haven't done anything that's hard. And the syllabi don't look difficult. In fact, they're almost laughable.

I have to do "meaningful writings."

"But, Kate," you're asking, "what IS a meaningful writing?"

Let me tell you, dear reader.

I have to use the vocabulary for a specific chapter in a page-long paper in such a way that I can prove I know what they mean. Yes, just like in high school. I wish I were kidding.

But, aside from that, I like the campus. I like both of my professors. They're quite funny, and sassy, in their own way. The students aren't terrible.

Now, MY students, on the other hand...

Not so much.

The season is in full swing, and I just don't know what to do. They are absolutely unruly sometimes.

I still adore them, there is no doubt about that.

Perhaps I need a few more education courses before I can reign them all in.

Zombies ate my brains... I mean... flags!

I can finally call myself an athlete. Well, sort of.

I finished. I finished a full obstacle course 5K, in 77 minutes. I did NOT come in last. I finished ahead of approximately 1000 people. Who knew?! Look, I even have a medal to prove it:

This race was a testament to the hard work I've been putting in for the past few months. I didn't run the whole thing, but I'm incredibly proud of myself. More than that, I'm proud of myself for not skipping ANY obstacles. I climbed over barriers. I crawled out of mud pits. I climbed a wooden ladder that looked like some form of military training, slid down a water slid, and then pulled myself out of the wooden box at the end of it. I crawled through mud, on my hands and knees. I crawled under an electrified fence and shocked myself. A lot.

But I finished. 

I have never been more dirty in my life, but I had an amazing time. There were people that were more fit than I, and people less so. I felt no pressure to complete the race in 30 minutes. The best time was 22 minutes, by a man who is 50 years old. He was a dedicated trail runner and hiker, and had been a Marine. Of course he was going to get the best time!

My next obstacle in my fitness challenge will be keeping up this momentum. Classes start tomorrow, and I'm worried that I won't have any time to get workouts in. But, I'm going to make every attempt. Webster has a gym on campus. I will find time. I will MAKE time.

I'm looking for more races, so that I can continue my training. I want to walk the Camino de Santiago de Compestela in about two years, and I will need to be in the best shape I can possibly be to make that happen. I would also like to complete a 10K, followed by a half marathon. We'll see. Are these lofty goals? Absolutely. Can I do it? Definitely.

Contrary to popular belief... I DO know...

For some reason, people must think I'm blind. I don't know why, I mean... I studied Art History in college.

Let me explain.

One week from today, I will be running my first 5K.

I'm excited, yes.

But I'm also apprehensive.

I've had so much negativity going into this race.

So many people doubt my ability, so many people raise an eyebrow about my interest in the world of running 5Ks.

I GET IT.

I'M FAT.

I KNOW that I'm fat. I've been this way most of my life, and while some of it is genetic, most of it is being raised by people who made poor food choices, and then making poor food choices myself.

But, I do own mirrors. I do look in them every day, and I am fully aware of my body.

However, I am making changes to my lifestyle, and this is part of it.

I told Mom today that I was worried about it, the race. That I had been humiliated so many times-- even so many this week alone-- about my size, about the race, about so many other things concerning my body, that I was thinking of pulling out of the race.

Her response?

"So do it. Train for the next one."

I think that might have been the icing on the cake.

I needed her to tell me that she believed in me. I needed her to tell me that I can do it. I needed her to tell me that it wasn't about time, or medals, or awards, or anything like that, but that she would be there to support my efforts, and watch me cross the finish line.

I'm still going to do it. I'm still going to show up, and get eaten by zombies, and cross the finish line.

Am I a fool for thinking I can do it? Absolutely.

Do I have any business being the only fat person on a 5K obstacle course? No. Fuck no.

I realize my limitations. I do not suffer from body dysmorphia. I am FULLY aware of my size, and while I don't make a habit of complaining about it, or even letting it seemingly affect me... Comments like hers DO rip my heart out a little each time.

Comments from friends, colleagues, students... they all hurt. I am not an outwardly emotional person, but I DO still feel.

I'm not sure what to do with this information, other than show up and run. I won't win, I won't even be able to run the whole thing. But I'll feel accomplished, and then I can shove it up everyone's ass after I've done it.

Until then, I'm just going to pout and be reclusive.