For the most part, I’m not actually as mean as my reputation would suggest. I convince people to talk to me for a living, so obviously I’m perfectly nice most of the time. Usually, I start by assuming someone is OK and that there’s no reason for me to not be nice. Then, after that, I have learned to self-censor.
The exception to this is when I am tired. When I am tired it’s too hard to construct a wall between what I say and what I think. And it’s not really like I say crazy or terrible things. It’s simply that what we’re all thinking pops right out of my mouth before I even realize it had left my brain.
Today, I got killed on the track. You know how I said I keep thinking I can’t do workouts but I keep being able to do them anyway. Yeah, today I couldn’t. I mean I was really close until the last lap of the second 1.5 miles descending every half-mile, and then I just wanted to cry or shit my pants or anything that would stop me from having to run anymore. And, after that, I had 200s on the schedule. (Yay.) All of which means I was Tired, capital fucking T.
And, then this old guy starts sidling up to me in between the 200s and making small talk and asks: How fast are you running?
I shrug and mumble, I dunno. *Me giving social cues that I’d rather not be talking.*
Him: Yes, you do. You’re timing yourself.
Me: I know. I just don’t like it when people ask me that.
Which is true. And, not that mean. And, something I know we’re all thinking. And, I had no idea I was going to say it before I did. Since I didn’t know I was going to say that, I couldn’t think of anything else to say after it, so I just started my next 200.