2. Obsessively scouring running message boards, trying to figure out an easy way to fix my latest injury. So. With running comes injuries. It's just something you have to deal with if you want to get into the dirty world of road racing. Last year, after 5 years of horrific, brutal build-up, I was thrilled to officially find my running zen. Running all of a sudden started to feel good (not just after I was done, but oftentimes even while in the throes of pain and exhaustion). And I was getting pretty good at it. I started racking up medals and shit. I PR'd with a 21:58 5K. I jest you not. The thrill of it all was almost overwhelming. But damn it, my ankles started screwing me up. I'd twist them, turn them, all but beat the crap out of them with a crowbar, and got to know my $250 ankle brace from the ortho amazingly well. I'm so sick of injuries I could scream. But now, instead of heading straight for the doc, I scour these message boards, looking for "the big solution" to all of my problems. Even when I'm not struggling, I LOVE googling things like "ankle injury out outside of ankle near heal that feels like 1000 knives stabbing foot when I sit Indian style". AND PEOPLE, they answer. They know things. Lots of things. But then, when reason kicks in (damn you) I start to wonder about the people who pop up over and over on these message boards. I imagine them being a group of know-it-alls (we can smell our own) who have annual know-it-all conventions and talk about different topics. For instance, the topic of day 4 will be "best ways to cure ankle injuries" and each party will take his turn sharing his fake knowledge. And a whole bunch of running message board whores are there, listening to every word and taking notes. NOW I HAVE THE ANSWERS I HAVE SOUGHT FOR SO LONG.
3. Going to stores like Anthropologie and Lululemon pretending like I can afford, well, anything, pretending to look at the regular priced stuff and trying not to too obviously make a beeline for the clearance section. When the sales person approaches me, I smile and pretend to be interested in something that's not on clearance, then when she helps me find my size, I try not to throw up when I casually glance at the price tag. It's tough, but it's times like these that I thank my lucky stars for my college acting classes. As I swallow the impending regurgitation, I head to the fitting room to try on the $300 pair of running capris and on the way, say, "oh, look, I'm just going to take a quick glance at the clearance section." The sales person nods her head and looks at me with disdain. I find the one thing on clearance that has a small stain on it (additional discount WHAT!?), skip the fitting room and check out that one item, putting back the $300 capris and leaving with my head hanging down in shame. Maybe, just maybe, I can sell my laptop and go back to buy the capris. Nah.