Early Pandemic Brigid Can Catch These Hands

Today’s beverage: Michelob Ultra…3 weeks out from the beach y’all!!!!

Guys, I’m tired. Like I’m just wiped. out. This week has felt so long.

It’s not that I haven’t been sleeping. I mean, I’ve never slept well, but like I just feel like sleep is not my problem. I have strong negative feelings towards anyone who can just put their head on a pillow and just fall asleep. It’s just not right.

In general, I’m just not a great sleeper. I take forever to fall asleep, and I wake up a lot during the night. And no, it’s not because of a prostate problem, like in the commercials, because I don’t have one, obvs.

No, I’ve come to terms with the fact that sleep would not go on my resume as a skill. I will say that recently, my boyfriend’s snoring problem hasn’t made things any easier.

To clarify, the fact that my boyfriend snores is not the problem. He can’t help it.

The problem is the fact that he snores like a fucking psychopath. I woke up the other night to a very terrifying knocking sound. After spending about 15 minutes trying to identify the noise and deciding who should inherit my jigsaw puzzles when I’m murdered, I discovered that the knocking sound was snoring. I shit you not, the man throws his voice like a ventriloquist when he snores. Add that to the fact that his snores are not noises that should exit the human noise/mouth area and you’ve got a real situation on your hands.

Now, I accept that I’m not always a dream either during my REM cycle. I have this really fun habit in which I will occasionally experience night terrors several nights in a row with no warning. These started back in college. It’s fun for everyone involved, really.

Let me paint you a word picture: I’m sleeping. Peaceful as a lamb. Then I “wake up” and there is 100% without a doubt someone standing over me. So I immediately throw the closest object at them as hard as I can. This object is always a pillow. Because that’s for sure going to help me out with a real intruder.

So that’s the fun part for me. The fun for the other person comes when I do actually wake up, but I’m still terrified and freak out on whoever’s closest to me. Again, usually with a pillow. This time it truly is a good thing.

But I digress. Because as I already said, this is not about sleep. I just can’t pass up a good tangent.

I’m tired because my main personality trait is burning the candle at both ends. And then for funsies, I go ahead and set the middle on fire as well.

I’m finding myself to be suddenly committed to various athletic events, and to say I’m unprepared is an understatement.

So here’s the thing. What had happened was, early pandemic Brigid made the mistake of thinking that a pandemic was the perfect time to get back into the best shape of my life. And I know, I’m not the only one who made that foolish decision. I have Instagram. I get it. This is my first pandemic, and I didn’t understand the rules. I didn’t know that the goal is just to, like, exist to the best of my ability until the world starts to straighten itself out.

The result of this is that I’m currently signed up for two half marathons and the Tough Mudder, all between May and June. In fact, the second half marathon is the week after the Tough Mudder. How did this chaos happen? Deferrals. That’s how. All the races I signed up for last year got moved to this year. Since I have the memory of a goldfish, I forgot and signed up for new races this year.

RUN ALL THE RACES!!

So now I’m trying to learn how to run more than 5 miles at a time again. I’m also trying to get myself to finally be able to do a pull-up. I’m still teaching spin, and I’m hell-bent on getting my six pack back. Essentially, everything is about to fall off. It’s great.

And the kicker is I’m sure there are more things that I signed up for, and now I just have to wait until they pop up. It’s a mess. I’m a mess.

How tired am I? I dozed off during Peaky Blinders! Because nothing relaxes you more than wondering who’s next to get their eyes sliced out by razor blades, right? This is especially risky, because falling asleep on the floor when the rabbit is looking for attention is a good way to get bit. You don’t mess with the Peaky Fucking Bunnies.

Had to do it. Not sorry.

I’ve also been running slow as molasses, which is fun. There’s nothing better than taking a peak at your watch and finding out that you’re going about a minute per mile slower than usual. It’s a real confidence builder going into a race.

To top this all off, my first race is a trail race. Last year, I decided I’d try my hand at trail races. There’s nothing too outlandish about that. The part that makes you facepalm is that my logic was to immediately go for the half marathon. Honestly I’m surprised I didn’t try and track down a full marathon right off the bat. Shit, if I knew how to do it, I’d probably have signed up for the Barkley Marathons.

Note: if you have not watched The Barkley Marathons: the race that eats its young, you need to. Like right now. Finish reading this post, then watch. Even if you don’t run, it’s wildly interesting because Lazarus is a crazy person and I’d like to adopt him as my grandfather.

Don’t worry, though. I corrected my mistake by finding a small trail 5k a few months back. All better, right? Nope. I decided to choose a race that involved running up a ski mountain and essentially making a controlled fall back down. But hey, I came in second! And then I got bit by a dog. That part is irrelevant, but here we are.

Circling back, Brigid is an exhausted son of a gun. I’m not sure if this epitome of “stream of consciousness” was a clear enough symbol of my current physical and cognitive state, so I figure I’ll spell it right out for ya. I’m nice that way. I care about my audience.

So why don’t I take a break? It’s just not in my nature. Why take care of yourself appropriately when you can just run yourself into the ground and then reset later. This whole thing is clearly Future Brigid’s problem. Live in the now, people.

I should take an example from my dog. Yesterday, Littlefoot got up at 10am and went outside to pee, came in and ate breakfast, and plopped her butt down on the couch. It was 5pm before I realized I plum forgot about her existence because she NEVER MOVED. This dog can nap. She’s taking a nap right now. Life for her is a spectator sport.

Honestly, the most frustrating part of this whole week is the fact that all I’ve wanted to do is write, but I literally have not been able to figure out what to write about. Writing is such a relaxing activity for me, and weirdly enough, it’s an effective method of resetting my brain. But I can’t write if I don’t have anything to write about! Hence today’s stream of nonsense. The main benefit here is that I actually feel better now than I did when I started this post. That may also be the beer, but who knows.

This does give me an idea, though. I’m gonna try something with you all; a choose your own adventure of sorts. If you follow me, and you have a topic about life in general that you’d like to see if I can’t put a few hundred coherent words together about, send it on over. If you don’t follow me, get off ya butt and follow me. And then you too can participate in the fun. This may ultimately be an unwise decision and I obviously have the ability to veto any topic I choose, but hey, toss it in the comments and see what happens.

So until next time… I guess I need a closing catchphrase, but that’s a hurdle for another beer.

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