This is also the first big trip I've taken that wasn't with my parents or a school group. I'm going with my man. This in itself is a bit scary, I hope dave and I don't hate each other by the time we're done with the week. We sure do bicker a lot. I tried to tell Mom about how we are once, how we'll fight to the death over how much butter to put in the macaroni and cheese, and I think it just sounded to her like we have a troubled relationship, but in truth there's an underlying tenderness to our fighting like there is between my sister and I; I mean, I love my sister, but that never stopped me from calling her a retard every once in a while (or every day, whichever). I should call that girl.
Then you have to figure, if the average couple has 10 conversations and 1 fight every week, then dave and I are really doing pretty good, because we have 1,000 conversations and only 40-50 fights every week. In all that talking, we'll have to start complaining sometime.
Well this all sounds screwed up now, doesn't it?
Anyway, I told Dave that while I was driving we'd have to listen to nothing but The Smashing Pumpkins, and for some reason he thought that would be a bad idea, and I said it wouldn't be a bad idea if he had good taste in music like me... and so it begins. Finally I compromised and said I'd put in some Jill Sobule.
Other news... got a call at 9:00 this morning from one of my old track coaches! He said there was a meet today and they were having a crisis and needed me to run the high jump, I just couldn't turn him down. I know, I should have worked on senior design, but dammit I'm tired. I already went back on my "no senior design over spring break!" pledge because I'm bringing a 180 page data sheet with me to learn a PIC instruction set (teach myself assembly language in 5 days, basically). Sigh. So anyway, my partner is probably gonna kill me but I'll go in tomorrow before we leave.
Running the high jump was great. It was a beautiful day outside (really windy, but oh well) and everyone did worse than I think I would have. Ever heard the expression "the older I get, the better I was"? That was me the whole time... "Out on 4-10? I would have beat that girl!" "5-0 won this thing?! This was my year!" Then I remembered... my best was like 5-6, but I only got that once. During the indoor season my sophomore year, I was going 5-3 every other week, but by outdoor I was... oh hell, I was good then too. I ruled! Would've taken this whole thing.
I loved track. I won't forget that. I loved the mental state it got me in, the shape I was in, the way my feet felt after a day of competition. There was just a time that hit when suddenly I just didn't want to go to practice every day, I found myself wondering just how little I could do to get by, just how late I could be before someone noticed. What excuse would work this time. And that's not the way to go through life, that's not the way to be on a team. I knew someone was telling me I was done with it. Did I outgrow it? Maybe. Or maybe it was just one more thing that gets sacrificed as our lives get busy, something else to fade in the background, because these things start to look less and less important. Perhaps those are the same things.