Blogs : Jason Richardson

Don't Call it a Comeback...

“Darling, I don’t care what nobody think. Talk to me like you talk to Martin Luther King or Malcolm X. You’re not going to ask him about what he thinks about what somebody said about him. You ask him about his greatness, and his greatness only,” - Lil Wayne

I have some unfinished business on the collegiate ranks...

...some records were beyond my grasp, some championships slipped through my fingers

I'm training hard, eating right, and lifting hard....

...for what will be the year of 'Grind 2 Shine 2k9'

Blogging Begins: October 2008

The Testimony: The Plain Vision

I’m a Renaissance Man, the last of a dying breed.  I don’t take well to categorization and I make it my life’s purpose to buck stereotypes.  I’m insane enough to think I can do everything and the impossible all in the same breath.  I’m anomalistic and enigmatic and I make no apology for it.  My sneaker game comes in more colors than a pack of skittle but you sure as hell won’t find me in a tall tee from footlocker.  My dreads will be ‘urban’ but you will laugh at me ‘locking the car doors’ through the hood on the way to get them retwisted ritually (so I’m kidding… but some black people do make me nervous, lol).  So what I love fried chicken? Does that mean I can’t drench it with hot sauce while washing it down with Merlot while listening to the prodigious pianist Chopin?  I’ll grab my ipod and bounce from a classic respectful Luther joint to a raunchy Lil’ Wayne track, to upbeat 80’s music, to a country joint or gospel and never miss a note or a lyric in the process.  I toe the line between confident and cocky and can’t stand myself some days and other days I’m in complete undying love with myself.  I’ve learned to love the fool in me and think my imperfections are endearing marks of character.  Guess you can say they don’t make people like me anymore; some say because I’m worthy of the short bus, I say because I don’t care how I get there as long as the bus stops at happiness, affluence, and Olympic gold.

All that being said, I firmly believe that we are all sum totals of our experiences.  I’ve chosen to database my own for easier retrieval.  My inability to fit in for years have led me to critique what constitutes normalcy and if I’m striving for an unattainable standard.  Haha I think I’ve already answered that question.  These blogs are known for their rawness and comedy but rarely for spiritual insight.  If i am to truly claim to be a ‘life decathlete’, I’ve got to touch all bases even when unpopular.  I’ve embraced my ‘weirdness’ in attempts at relating to masses that I’m sure feels the same sentiments.  Some may misunderstand the nature of this blog but…Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther the Kang were all misunderstood so I’ll be in good company.  If you know the Lord like I know him, put on some soft gospel and grab a bible cause ‘I gots-a testimony!’ so here it goes….

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I owe my family everything.  My mother raised me in the church and I remember saying an Easter speech with a red bow tie and a pair of grey cowboy boots that went so HARD back in the day (remember I’m from Texas kids, lol) I curse too much and drank a bit too much more (that’s definitely not correct grammar J).  I’m too hard on myself and others and I’ll read facebook statuses more than my bible BUT… I still TRY to live right; recognizing my faults and do better each day.  I’m honest and real when I say it’s a struggle in college to even FIND the right thing let alone DO the right thing.  I’m not perfect, and frankly life would be boring as hell if I was, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stop trying to be.  My boy Carjay said it best, “I may not be perfect, but I’m perfectly me,” I like the quote even though I still think he a broke azz Langston Hughes! lol As far as track is concerned, God’s given me the gift and I will stop at nothing till I beat the breaks of my talent.  God’s been with me every step of the way this season and I dedicated my season to him and to the late Aaron Aviani, former USC Massage Therapist.

My prayer before ever race is for health and my best.  I’m just glad to be on the track these days and I give thanks for even the smallest blessings.  I stepped out on faith during the later part of the indoor season when a bible verse really spoke to my spirit.

"Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it. For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry."—Habakkuk 2:1-3, King James Bible

I decided that my vision would be my track and field times and the tables upon which I would make them plain would be a raggedy notepad at the Clarion Hotel in Arkansas during indoor SEC’s.  I jotted some times down that were WAY off my pr and believed I could run them because I know that the faith of a mustard seed can move mountains.  I’d love to tell you I hit those times at SEC’s but I damn sure didn’t.  I ran yet another 7.7, lost, and thought about getting the time tatted on my right arm since I’d run in the 7.7 range for 4 YEARS!  Well…at this point my faith couldn’t move a pebble let alone move a mountain so I just went back to my generic, simple prayers while I ran at the Last Chance Meet.

By the time I’d finish competing at NCAA Indoor Championship I knew without a doubt that faith is essential to my competitive success.  The appointed time was at Nationals and not SEC’s and because I waited for it, it surely came and did not tarry!  I had run what I wrote down on the hotel notepad almost to the T!  Weeks prior to NC’s my hand was guided to run 7.65prelims 7.51 finals on the hotel notepad and though I was but a few tenths off the finals time the mere fact that I was so close to the vision was enough to have me shoutin’ in praise!  Some may say it’s just coincidence, but I respond by saying, "coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous."  I can remember being in the stands at Nationals sitting with my parents damn near on the verge of tears because I finally felt like I was growing spiritually.  Id always prayed, I’d always tried to do the right thing but yet I was lost for so long.  Track and field has drawn me closer to him and since then I haven’t been the same…

Since nationals my season has be nothing short of a fairytale.  I’m running faster than I thought possible and I’ve tested my faith each time I’ve stepped on the starting line.  I know there are a lot of unbelievers and I’m not here to convert anyone.  I’m not saying that I’m better than my competitors because I’m a Christian and I’m not here to berate any individual who puts faith in themselves before a higher power.  ALL I’m here to say is as far as me and my house…we are gonna serve the Lord.  In my life, Jesus is ride or die and I would have it no other way! In the end, I hope this shows another size of Jason beyond comedic anecdotes and emotional randomness.  If I’m to do the impossible this season, it’s going to take Faith AND works because “Faith without Works is Dead” – James 2:20

Till next time be blessed, but more importantly stay blessed…

Last Chance To START...

Something felt different…

Relaxed, oddly calm, and yet focused I spoke my last words before the oppressive Virginia Tech starter would hold my reaction time in his hands.  “Help Me Believe” was spoken into the atmosphere, sending chills through my arms before finding their home in the struggling nerves that supported my body weight.  To my left, a man wanted nothing more than to see me lose; to my right, a man harbored the intentions of leaving me bewildered and confused at the start.  Though flanked my tension, nervous energy, and possible defeat, I was relaxed, oddly calm, yet focused…

“Set,” spoken by the starter broke me from my trance, hips raised slowly in efforts to maximize my explosive potential; Saturday the 8^th was the day my greatest weakness was destroyed.  Eight lanes became one, the crowed of spectators vanished in its place a deafening silence paralyzed my ears, its only cure the click of a gun.  A pregnant pause separated my past difficulty with transferring energy into power, from my lucid goal of ripping every fiber of Mondo track from the Virginia Tech indoor complex…

My freedom rang loudly as I drove to the first hurdle.  No longer a slave to discomfort and fear, my normal ‘kickers’ race was discarded and left behind.  Each hurdle a new goal, each hurdle a conquered goal, each hurdle an opportunity to separate myself from the very men who would want nothing more than my demise…

In sync with the field till hurdle three; my athletic gears began to churn putting my hurdle form into auto-pilot.  My technical cues of ‘stay low, bring the trail leg through, and stay tight’ came to fruition as I progressively extended my lead until my aggressive torso crossed the enticing white strip designated as the finish line…

A quick look to the right read Richardson 7.75, content I looked back at my competitor’s sea of destruction left by poor hurdling and frantic attempts at catching me.  Something caught my eye…squinting… I notice my poor start in the distance, embarrassed, naked, and infuriated she had been made homeless.  The corners of my mouth went up into a smirk as I waved goodbye to my old enemy.  Though ranked top 5 in the country for the entire indoor season…victor was never a name I could be called till now.  The 8^th marked the day I won my first meet of the season and finally put my finger on what felt so different…

…I had a great start!

The SEC Red Carpet...

Call me delusional, but I’ve developed this complex about being a local celebrity.  It’s my excuse for why I get talked about like a damn dog, but I’ve learned to embrace it cause you know what… even if it’s a lie I tell myself everyday… I AM a celebrity to somebody, haha.  So now that we are all well versed on my celebrity status, it should be of no surprise that I was excited to find out we were chartering a flight to Arkansas…yes… an ENTIRE plane was designated specifically for my travel purposes and I decided (out of the kindness of my heart) to bring along my entourage of 80 plus and dressed them in SC uniforms, lol.

            When I arrived at one of America’s most beautiful tourist locations, Fayetteville Arkansas (haha yea right!) my entourage and I decided to hit the hotel to drop of our bags and then head to the track to get a workout in.  I jogged a lil, sprinted a lil, jumped a lil, acted retarded a lot, then we ate at the mall, went to see a team movie, then I instructed my crew we would have a long day so we needed our rest.

            Let me stop with this entourage nonsense, lol… so let’s talk about the inhuman treatment on the body that is called ICE BATHING!  A young naïve boy with a voice like Mariah Carey will hear a ‘dropping’ noise and after 20m of the most intense uncomfortable feeling of tiny yet determined particles of ice attacking his body will exit the tub sounding like Barry White (Rest in peace pimpin!) realizing his balls have dropped and is now officially a man!  I hate ice baths but you gotta man up and do what you gotta do to get where you’re trying to go!

So the first day of competition was decent for me.  My start is still raggedy as all hell but I’m learning to do the best I can with it.  I made a few technical improvements that helped in the finals.  For the first time in years I was a helpless wreck in the blocks, and I actually felt like an athlete!  It’s nerves that make you explode out the blocks, it’s the flirts with the impossible and the courting of the destined that makes you shake in the blocks fighting not only your competition on the line, but your inward calm tyrant that would rob you of your aggressiveness.

7.7 seconds later I would end up SEC Runner Up, and that was hard pill to swallow.  I knew it was close, I knew it would come down to hundredths of a second, but I also knew that I hadn’t won.  Immediately after the race I jumped off the track to put my clothes on and do what so many athletes tend to do...SULK like crazy!  But by the time I put on my clothes I realized there is no point.  I’ve been so blessed this indoor season just to be able to travel, let alone run fast, score, and be in the hunt for the National title.  So many who redshirt struggle to return to their old form.  Life is too short to be trippin off of one small race, and its best to think of life as a string of small races, some wins and some loses but overall its about the passion, faith, and dedication you bring to the line each time you try.

Did I kinda suck at SEC’s. yea… but you can’t appreciate winning Indoor Nationals unless you’ve lost a race every now and then along the way!

New York's FINEST!

Quick Recap…

The Armory meet was a hot azz mess.  All I could do every time I finished running was laugh in between my coughing fits.  What started off as just a runny nose turned into drainage that eventually created massive chest congestion… couple that with my asthmatic history and you’ve got a recipe for a sickly, wheezing, drugged up idiot for the New Balance Meet.  I was taking so much prescribed medicine I felt like a damn pharmacist, and I was guzzling Robituson so frequently I swear it went from tasting like shots of Bacardi 151 to tasting oddly refreshing like some red kool-aid!

I’ll cut the crap and man up by saying I ran horribly (and that’s being kind, lol).  The 60H’s weren’t too taxing on my breathing so I manage to get through prelims in a 7.9 and follow up with a 7.8 for 5^th in the Championship final.  The highlight of the meet had to be when I almost passed out running the 200m in the 567 heat of 638 (it felt like Junior Olympic in High School all over again!).  I ran 22.7 and no need to check your screen resolution; there is NO typo!

Coming from an athlete who ran 21.7 freshman year at VaTech and 21.1 outdoor Jr year of HS;  22.7 is pedestrian but you couldn’t tell my body I wasn’t running world record pace! Haha.  I was laid out after the race and my breathing didn’t return to normal for another hour after the race.  Our massage therapist was set up behind the shot-put ring near a Water Vending Machine and when he forced me to get up from my supine position; I got so dizzy I fell into the machine…

I like the phrase “live and let live” so I tied together all my wack performance from the weekend, weighted them down with an anchor labeled “Sick As All Hell” and sunk that bad boy in the sea of forgetfulness.
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I just gotta get this off my chest…

I’m gonna have to interrupt this track programming with a lil’ commercial about how people don’t know how to act.  We flew to NY twice and next to Arkansas and I don’t know if it’s the altitude or the fear of height or what; but people on planes loose they mind!  A nice lady and her young daughter were split, one having a middle seat in the right section of the plane the other a middle seat in the left.   The mother asked this old man if he could switch seats and he tried to act deaf!  Now I know he had a hearing aide in, lol, but he was still TRYING to ignore her.  She a good one cause I’m crazy and I woulda start frontin like I knew sign language cause aint nobody bout to flat out ignore me!

I’m baffled by people’s inconsideration at this point so I offer her my seat.  Even though I’m in the row behind her daughter, at least she would be close.  Respectfully she declines and gets excited when an older couple comes to the rows to sight in the aisle seats.   She politely asks and they said “No”…  Now I had been blasting my Ipod a lil louder than I should have been so I assumed I was hearing something rattling in my ear that sounded like the world ‘No’ cause old people should know better.  She tried to explain herself again and the old man from the couple tried to play her like she’s dumb!  “I have seat 13 D {precedes to point at the seat} what does you’re ticket say because I know it doesn’t say 13D” hahaha…his trifling ass wife (sorry Lord for cussin)…like I said, his trifflin ass wife was running off at the mouth about how they booked aisle seats on purpose and TRIED to get upset that she was going to be forced to sit next to a child for the flight.  Now people, if we were flying to Sri Lanka on a 55 hour flight to God knows were, I’d be more understanding, but since the flight was under an hour and half it took everything in me not to put on my ‘Super Save a Hoe’ cap and regulate the situation.

****This is what I was THINKING:  I should kindly tap the frustrated mother (who only want to sit with her child), on her maternal and tender shoulder and ask her for the baby powder that she stowed away.  I would lovingly cover my right palm with a sufficient layer of powder before… ya’ll know its coming… before I woulda slapped the hell out that couple (in the name of Jesus cause God don’t like ugly) for being condescending and irrational.

****This is what I ACTUALLY did: I blinked in amazement

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I’m too lazy to talk about Tyson so hopefully I’ll throw up a blog later this week…

Millrose

Gather around the campfire kids cause it's blog time. The Legend of Millrose

Since we last talked, I realized it doesn't pay to be vain. Unbeknownst to me, our distance Coach changed our flights and I missed my dread appointment, and consequently the chance to laugh hysterically at my loctitian. If it weren't for my teammate's reminder that morning that our flight had been pushed up to 11am, your boy would have still been in REM cycle, slobbering, with my feet dangling off the side of the bed. My ankle still felt a lil awkward that day, so I opted out of wearing the church shoes and threw on Prada sneakers, and since you can't wear sneakers with dress slacks, I put on my Evisu's thinking that maybe.. .just maybe Coach wouldn't bite my head off for dressing down if I LOOKED LIKE MONEY (terrible logic, but it sure as hell made sense at the time). The end result was a tongue lashing and a head of untwisted dreads. Great start to the weekend.

We got to NY dumb early on Thursday so we walked the city, my teammates in search of a Nail shop, myself in search of some Africans who could grab every baby hair on my head to retwist my locks. We went 1-1. No Africans, but TONS of nail places and the chicks on my team got designs and 3D nonsense on their nails, they ghetto as hell for that but that’s why I roll wit em. We FINALLY got us some oxtail, some beef patties, and road the train back to the hotel laughing at the fact that Johnny caught Keisha on video cussin’ out the whole damn nail shop cause someone stole her ring out the bathroom! I used to laugh at the old people in their plastic bag sweat tops who walked the mall in the morning until now.... WALKIN is a FREAKIN WORKOUT cause by the time I got back to the hotel the bed was calling my name.

Next morning we went to the Armory for morning practice. My ankle was throbbing; I'm sure from the miles upon miles I walked the day prior. I felt good going over hurdles, but my ankle kept me from exploding like I wanted to out the blocks. A tape job and some positivity got me through practice then we went back to the hotel for the 6hr downtime till the meet.

Our hotel was literally almost across the street from MSGarden, but the rain made it seems further. Once inside we got in chill mode before our races, WAY too chill mode. Like the retard I am, I'm late to the paddock, last on the track for warm up, and last to put my shoes on. Guess it's no coincidence that I was LAST out the blocks too! An acceleration pattern was as foreign as Chinese to me and the dude from Syracuse was gone! I'm starting to think that I might be deaf because I CLEARLY am not hearing the same things the others on the starting line are, lol. I walked the dude down but fell a hundredth short (7.84 to 7.85). Time sucks, but so did the race so I won't complain. As the saying goes, ' you win some, you lose a lot more' ... (well, that’s more MY saying, lol) so it's no big deal. I know that NO ONE, (I sang it Alicia keys style when I typed it, haha) can close faster that I can. If only I could find a start...

Deja Vu

The UFlorida meet was a shining example of déjà vu.  By the conclusion of the meet, I’d run the same time I ran last year; 7.18 and I’d walk away with another 2^nd place finish.  Auburn Univ. might as well call me Toby or Kunta Kinte because they stay OWNING me in the 60H’s at the UF meet.  Last year Shamar nipped me at the line and this year Ty Atkins picked up the win.  My acceleration pattern is still WAY off so an ‘almost-auto’ when I have so many technical things to change is not only exciting but makes me nervous as hell.

Oddly enough when it comes to the topic of nerves, I’m more nervous off the track than on the track.  When I stop and think about the possibilities of doubling and winning indoor nationals my stomach hurts like the time I got food poising at SEC’s indoors Soph. year from the Bourbon Chicken at the mall!.  Forget butterflies in my stomach, its more like a prehistoric Terradactyl is preying on my stomach!  On the track I’m a complete idiot.  I talk, laugh, sing, dance, hell I’ve done it all in the blocks.  The reason being that taking the race too seriously is pointless, and it’s nothing like nerves to have you feeling like your 100lbs too heavy.  If Jason is the mild mannered reserved kid, JaiRich is the athletic alter ego that should be tranquilized because he’s a threat to others and himself,lol.  I love my ability to have fun at meets, and Millrose will be no different.

I just got off the phone wit my ghettofied Locktician (She retwists my dreads… don’t know if it’s a word, but screw Websters, I want my own dictionary!).  She’s got three kids by different daddies, and the youngest I call Osama cause he half middle eastern…she’s married to a gay guy from Antigua so he can remain a citizen and she NEVER does my hair unless she’s high… but guess what… she’s the best in the metroplex and she funny as hell!  I set up an appointment to look fresh for my camera time at Millrose! (so what I’m vain, at least I’m honest…)

I’ve NEVER had this much fun running track!  Athletics is an amazing opportunity that you have to grip the reigns and stay atop of because you could be thrown off at any moment.  Instead of being scared of the fall off the athletic bull which is inevitable, I’d rather swing my hands in the air like a retard, wavin’ a NCAA championship plaque and a New Era cowboy fitted hat, lol!

I’ve grown.  I used to hate running the 4x4, or the 400, I used to hate running when I didn’t feel fresh or 100% and I used to get all standoff-ish when I didn’t perform well… if anyone can identify with these things, a redshirt season can cure ALL of these ails.  Hell if coach told me to run the mile, I’d break out the distance booty short with the flaps and run to the line!  You gotta remember that every step on the track is a blessing and all those that are healthy should never take that for granted.  Till later…

“To Win Without Risk Is To Triumph Without Glory.” Pierre Corneille

UNC: 7.83 against a Frenchman, Beef Patties, and Butt Cheeks!

Friday:

Be it that I’m the diligent employee I am…. I skipped work on Friday cause I needed to wash clothes before we left for the meet.  Your boy was in DIRE need of clean half tights to wear under his bodysuit or I was gonna have to FreeBall and if I hit a hurdle… there woulda been Ball Juice EVERWHERE!  I threw random clothes and uniforms in my bag and proceeded to the bus to contort myself into some pretzel formation for the 4hr ride it took to get to Chapel Hill.  Being 6’2 + Charter Bus = Extreme Discomfort only assuaged by being knocked out and drooling for the majority of the ride!… (I think if your over 6 feet they should give you complimentary Ambien upon boarding!)  Before I blessed UNC with my presence, we stopped to grab dinner and half the Negros on the team ran to a Jamaican joint (myself included).  But just like Black people (I love us, but we a mess sometimes) half the foods on the menu weren’t being served and we were ready to start screamin’ ‘Blo*dCl*t’ cause the man ran out of Ox Tail!  Keke and I settled for beef patties then took our Americanized selves to the Golden Arches and dropped a $5 for a 10 Piece Nugget

Saturday:

My ipod is 3/4ths Gospel music because it’s a must for me to remain sane.  The ride to the meet was an exercise in relaxation and preparation.  At the track, I warmed up and joked at the same time, and had me and my teammate Kayla laughin’ at our use of ‘Squowzed’ as the past tense for ‘squeeze,’ lol.

Now as if last week’s public hurdle massacre wasn’t enough, I’m just doing my own thing when I hear this odd language… I turn to see an African-blackish tall guy…  I squint…look closer… and then it hits me: it’s Ladji Doucoure 2005 World Champ for 110 Hurdles, speaking some crazy fast French.  Of all the places a group of French athletes could run, they manage to make it to Chapel Hill, wtf? Haha

I felt great at the meet, but I still felt timid because of past experiences with injuries.  I felt fresh and explosive but I was mentally struggling with the idea that the upcoming race could be my last of the season.  It’s then that I decided that negativistic thinking breeds grounds for injury and that I had to put Faith in my God, training, coach, and my own will.  Sometimes it takes just saying a quick phrase like, “Help Me Believe” or “If It’s To Be, It’s Up To Me” or “Thy Will Be Done” to keep me regulated, grounded, and motivated.  The result was great!

During prelims, I ran a technically horrible race and fell short on my acceleration pattern, but the clock read 7.83…the very time I ran at the V-Tech Last Chance Meet sophomore year that got me a ticket to Nationals.  To say that I was excited and content is an understatement.  For my first race in what feels like 4,567 years…I’ll definitely take it!

“The Only Way to Go is Up,” is such a lovely adage but as it applies to my life… its FALSE!  Thinking that I might be able to auto being next to Ladji in finals, I cooled down after my prelim race while entertaining the thoughts of a sub 7.7 time.  Daydreaming is dangerous children!  My retarded ass tripped over the silver railing that is in lane 1 and rolled my ankle TWICE!  I felt like suing cause silver railing, when hit with just the right amount of light appears white, thus blending into the white lane boundaries painted on UNC’s blue track! (So it’s a stretch, but I was mad, lol)  Klutz is a nice term for the idiocy that I displayed and I couldn’t help but think of Brianna’s post while I tried to jog and play it off, of course laughing cause I really didn’t give a hell who saw me (cause I know I woulda laughed at me had I seen it!).  My ankle looked as if some deranged Golf surgeon had stuffed a golf ball into my foot!  It hurt to walk, hurt to jog, but I wasn’t going to give up on my auto so I iced, did some quick therapy and willed myself to the line for the 60H final.

Ladies, ladies, ladies… the jig is UP!  So dudes are chauvinists and misogynistic and all those other wonderful feminist inspiring terms, but some of ya’ll aint NO BETTER!  Now I’m not afraid to admit that I take joy in appreciating the physicality of the African American female body structure while in athletic motion, (like how I put that,J) but I try to use as much discretion as possible.  Females are BOLD with it!  I’m at the starting line trying to focus when I started smiling because I caught these two girls talking bout my level of attractiveness, my butt, and the resulting argument about telling me or not! Hahaha:  I almost peed on myself but be it that liquid running down my leg is not a good look, I held in the laughter!  Lesson learned:  chicks are as savage as my boys are… and here I am feeling bad that I was staring at shawty in the relay bout to pull a DeeDee Trotter.

Back to the race, the gun went off and I got out but came up too early.  I was SERVIN’ Ladji till the third hurdle when I hit it and got knocked of balance a bit.  When running against pro’s you can’t make ONE mistake or they’ll leave you and have you wanting to grab their ankles for the ride!  He blazed to a 7.6 and I had to settle for 7.84.  Considering the conditions, a screwed ankle, smashed hurdles, and some hurdle inexperience, I’m so proud of my performance!

Next week is the UF meet where I almost auto’d last year.  I’m trying to make it happen!  Stay Up….

"A Goal Without a Plan is Just a Wish." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900 1944)

Disney To Chapel Hill

We went to Disney in Orlando for our training trip this year. For a week we had two-a-days and weight room RIGHT after Christmas break so you know half the team was passing out left and right. I definitely needed the trip to get me back in shape because I saw more pigs fly than days I practiced over break. We ran a small meet at the end and ladies and gentlemen I got DRILLED!

Who in the hell told David Oliver and Joel Brown to line up on MY starting line at MY training trip meet in Orlando? I don't care if they train on the Disney track regularly! haha... So my teammates and I felt like we had been hit by a bus during the morning practice sessions, then the bus hit us again in reverse for the afternoon practice sessions because our legs were sore, heavy, and flat. We line up for the meet and the "Pro" club lines up with us. I'm in a wifebeater and some half tights, and they're dressed in their Nike gear and Malaysian hand crafted spikes with air cushions from Mt Everest or something! We looked like reject walk-ons! The gun goes off and all I see are azz and elbows! Apparently I thought it would be cute to give the competition a head start like we're racing in the gravel streets of the neighborhood. I was so tired from training that it felt like I was running in place. I smash hurdles left and right, endangered small children and my hamstring in the process, before I just laughed and stopped. By that time I cleared the second hurdle, it seem like David and Joel were leaning at the tape...WTF! We ran an electronic race, (well let me rephrase that...THEY ran an electronic race) and I found out later that they ran 7.4ish for 60H! So needless to say this blog is more of a WATCH OUT FOR DAVID AND JOEL post than a heads up about my future performance, lol!  One benefit is I now know what the Collegiate 60H Record race pattern looks like! 

BUT...

This weekend we head to a meet in NC and I intend to destroy the competition as I was destroyed, it only seems fair!, lol. I'm going to try and put down something nasty like the ladies in the 60Hs did this weekend. It's always an amazing feeling to punch your ticket for NC's the first meet, so that's my realistic goal. I've waited a long time to get back on the track and I will not waste a moments time in re-establishing myself on the hurdle scene. I will be fresh, and rested so my competition better get used to the contours of my bony BACK! ... (fyi i'm trying this new cocky thing; we'll see if it works!)

I have faith this season and the knowledge that all things will work out for my good. I can't see the finish line in some cases but I know that one day I will cross it victoriously. The absence of track has made my athletic heart grow more founder and I'm sure I'll be in a seemingly drug induced euphoria when I step on the NC track. I'll leave you with the quote that best describes my approach to this upcoming season...

"I Will Prepare and Some Day My Chance Will Come. " -Abraham Lincoln

Q&A (Doping/State of Track and Field)

Bet you didn’t think I was gonna post again for another 2-3 months!  In my October entry I asked for questions so I wanted to make sure and give my requested 2 cents on the topics.

Q: You could discuss your opinion on the whole doping thing going down in the track world

A: There’s not much I can say about the doping situation but that it sucks, it annoys me, and amuses me all at the same time.  It obviously taints our sport and I personally feel like it is the main reason why T&F is no longer taken seriously as a ‘sport.’  I’ve heard someone say they’d rather watch competitive cheerleading than watch T&F and that’s a DAMN shame!  (okay not really, but I wouldn’t be surprised!).  I hold no compassion for those that get caught and wish more hurdlers would get caught and get the hell out my way, lol.  I’m amused for the reason that these athletes think they’re invincible.  I’ve stated in an earlier entry that taking steroids to EAT because your struggling in the sport is far more understandable than taking the drugs to break WR’s than retiring at your prime the year that out of season testings are to begin…{start cough…FLOJO….end cough…}  I will say this much however, all the doping offenses seem to have a ‘cleansing’ effect on our sport.  Out with the old and in with the new.  We have some athletes on the circuit who are winning meets in Europe and can’t even legally buy a drink in the States to celebrate!  HS track may not be getting faster per event, but it’s definitely becoming more competitive and increasing in depth.  The future is bright, the bright shine of youthfulness and raw talent.  I will not be naïve as to think that doping will go away… it’s as constant as lactic acid!  My only hope is that fewer athletes will be tempted

Q: Blogs on your thoughts about track and field as an entity and what it might take for our sport to be seen as a sport of interest for just the average joe.

A.  Track and Field needs spokespeople who are willing to take the sport’s future in their hands.  It’s a daunting task, but we are in dire need of identifiable figures in our sport.  We need athletes with speed and personality, who are worth interviewing after the race not only for the fact that they won, but because they can talk and are engaging.  I can’t count the number of times I’d rather spike myself in the eye than listen to an incoherent post-race interview.  And why does it seem like the FASTEST athletes are the most BORING?   Geez…You have to attract, inspire, and entertain viewers whether one wins or losses.  Case in point is that Rapunzel lookin white girl who played Tennis back in the day.  Ann Kournikova (to my knowledge) never won not one solitary singles tournament, but because she was cute she stayed on center courts and increased the exposure of women’s tennis!  The EASIEST way to get track and field some exposure is to get on Oprah… I’m working on it, haha….  At the end of the day, we need to give back to track and field because we all know our sport deserves more respect than it gets.  If I could get this flimsy hamstring together, you guys could call me Atlas cause I’d try and put the whole sport on my back.  I’ll just keep wishing for the best.

I’m always open for more questions so just let me know…

CHRISTmas break!

….Christmas Time…

Happy Birthday Jesus…

…Haven’t practiced in weeks, I need to get it together

Got what I really wanted for Christmas, my family…

…Classes are now an afterthought, my internship is the only thing left remaining between me and walking across USC’s graduation stage

Made it thought this semester alive… a C, and some B’s, no A’s: long hair don’t care…

…Brainstormed realizing that I’m in an amazing place right now: professional track and/or grad school, I give thanks daily for my ability to choose

Realized that I’m a Half-Asser specializing in upscale mediocrity, ‘just’ getting by, and conformity, 2008 I will shed these titles in favor of genuine hard work and reinvention…

…Patched up some old relationship, let go of some newer ones, firmly believing that friendship is an exercise in mutuality

Feeling grown because I have credit card debt, pissed I made it 3 yrs without it and now my LAST year I get a damn platinum credit card…

…I’m FASTER than I’ve ever been, competition…you’ve been warned

After the passing of our massage therapist Aaron Aviani, I’ve realized how important life really is, how dangerous unchecked depression can be, and how everyday should be lived like it’s your last.  Rumors, I laugh at em, Haters, I laugh at em, Drama, I laugh at it… (Can u see a trend?, lol).  It’s said to “Live and Let Live” I say, “Live and Let Live and Laugh In Between”…

…Slackin like hell from these blogs, I’m sure someone will comment negatively .5 seconds after this is posted, lol

The Richardson’s are doing it big, my eldest sister passed the CPA exam and my other sister passed the Bar, at times I feel like I’m the slow one in the family…

… I have the stomach of a grandpa now, I can’t handle dairy or caffeine!

Is it me or is Christmas Break one of the most boring breaks EVER!...

…I realized I like calamari A LOT and feel grown and sexy when I drink Plum wine

Kirk Franklin’s new CD is what’s up, and don’t talk to me while Dem Franchize’s ‘Talkin Out The Side of Ya Neck’ is on…

…Confidence is a tricky thing; to the shallow it’s taken as opposition, to the insecure - taken as arrogance, to the jealous – fuel, to the confidence – respect.

My swagger is unforgiving and my head never below eye level, I love myself a lot now, because I’ve got to make up for the many years I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror…

…Never would have made it without G-O-D, so I got tatted up

Random is the only way I know how to be…

…Happy Holidays people, be safe and I’ll holla next year!

Quote of the Day:

“You see things; and you say, 'Why?' But I dream things that never were; and I say, "Why not?"  George Bernard Shaw

Another Day, Another Entry

Here I go…

I had plantar fasciitis in my left foot, which accounted for the pain and discomfort.  It actually went away the following week, but for that week of pain coupled with my determination to train hard, your boy was ready to bite his damn tongue off.  Right now my body actually feels great.  My strength levels have improved, mainly cause I’ve actually been going to the weight room consistently.  I’ll never have normal muscularity (God did it on purpose cause I woulda been a stripper, haha, lol) so I’ve accepted I wont be getting any singles stuffed in my half tights and I better stick to just making small gains.  I still have the upper body strength of a 12 year old, so I won’t hold my breath on becoming a bodybuilder either.

Workouts have been better for me, and I’m rounding back into shape.  For a minute, I thought about switching to table tennis, or badminton or some other sport that doesn’t require Fall training, but alas…I’m starting to run like the old me and yall know what that means…

School sucks and I’ve come to the realization that college would be a hell of a lot better if you didn’t have to go to class.  I found out I only needed 2 classes to complete my major so I wanted to take mad easy classes to get my 12 hours but no… I HAD... to listen to my honors college advisor…who told me he’d find me some easy and fun classes (I took a harmonic class sophomore year, and it was stupid funny).

He LIED people… the man LIED!  Last time I checked a pros seminar on Contemporary Art is not fun, nor is a class on Postmodern Blackness in Contemporary African American Literature!  I don’t read unless I’m bored, or my butt is on some china with some air freshener at my feet.  In the case of my Afro lit class, when she said she graduate from Hampton, I was thinking, ‘yes…she’s been in a black academic setting and she’s gonna help a bruh out’… then she went on to say she earned her Ph.D from Yale, I said, “well…there went THAT idea!’  I barely keep up with these classes and they’re 10 xs harder than the 2 required courses I have to take.  My Contemporary Arts teacher freaks me the hell out.  He’s allergic to brushing his hair and seems a lil’ off in the head (which I’m definitely sure means he’s a GENIUS).  Now maybe I’m just not trying hard enough, but I be damned if I’m supposed to look at a picture with a red triangle in the middle and talk about how its masculinity is representative of abstract expressionist principles of Dada influence avant gard!  And I wonder why I fell asleep and hit my head on the wall last class.   Life’s not fair and neither was my advisor, lol

Socially, I’m out of control but I’ll slow down after thanksgiving.  I doubt there’s been a party that I’ve missed this semester and if it weren’t for the fact that my teammates are with me, I would have stopped earlier.  Now… don’t go around talking about USC is a party school…that would be stupid… lets just say we subscribe to the idea that ‘All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy!’  While other athletes are training hard, hitting the books, and soaking their muscle in goat milk over the weekends… we have fun on the weekends cause team moral and building team chemistry is more valuable than most athletes will ever realize until it’s too late.  The team is honestly an extension of my family, and when we shock some critics this season; we won’t be surprised because we’ve always believed in each other.

With that said, our men’s team is going to be crazy.  I’ve already penciled down 20 points for myself in the hurdles, and with our freshman phenom Dutch and our Finnish import Jussi in the intermediates, we’re trying to take over the hurdle game and score 324,504 points in the hurdles alone.  Am I being presumptuous for saying I‘ve already won both hurdles- ABSOLUTELY!  But the power of life and death is in the tongue, so I’m gonna speak my double victory, graduation in May, my 6 figure contract, and my commercial for Pro-Active (cause you know I got that coco butter smooth skin, haha).

I really want some reader’s ideas of content to address in my blogs.  I usually talk out the side of my neck most times, but I really do want to address topics or questions cause as I keep writing these blogs off the top of my head… I realize I’m starting to sound crazier and crazier by the post (I’ve already admitted to liking the smell of gasoline, wtf?).  Meets haven’t started yet, so its good time to just talk about general stuff before I do meet recaps.  So hit me up on myspace.com/jairich and let me know.

Imma leave with two quotes of the week that I was feelin.

“The Visionary Lies To Himself, the Liar Only to Others." --Friedrich Nietzsche

"Do not ask the Lord to guide your footsteps, if you are not willing to move your feet." – Unknown

Till we meet again…

Patience

“Our patience will achieve more than our force.” - Edmund Burke

I’m so frustrated I could pull my damn dreads out, and if you know how much money I’ve put in them to make ‘good hair’ lock… you know this is a serious matter.  Injuries seem to follow me as if they’re my shadow; this time my left foot is the silhouette.  Out of nowhere my left arch started hurting badly but like a retard I just acted like it would go away.  Now… I’m at practice in the back of the pack, breathing heavily, out of shape, out of form, and looking more like a freshman walk-on, than a Senior 4x All-American.  To say I’m out of shape is to say that Halle Berry is just a skosh cute… HUGE understatement!  To even use the word shape is giving me too much credit… I’m without form at this point… more of a running abstraction than a shapely athlete… but through the advice of my roommate Jamil, I’m going to try and remain positive.  Herein is where the frustration lies…

Some people are naturally happy.  We all know the annoyingly happy, energetic, I-don’t-care-if-i-have-8-am-classes-cause-i-love-the-morning kind of happy.  And then there are others who tend to be naturally depressed.  I’m definitely more the latter than the former and when coupled with my destructive tendency to OVERTHINK everything I’m a breeding ground for frustration.

But I keep reminding myself that this is an Olympic year and the collegiate season is far from short.  And there may even be a benefit in the complete ‘reset’ of my fitness level.  We had a 6:30am practice because of a community service project obligation in the afternoon, and while I was panting uncontrollably while running 3x600m, I had to remind myself of Tiff Ross-Williams and how she was struggling badly at the beginning of Fall when she first came back from pregnancy only to split 50. in Orlando in January.  I just have to be patient and have faith that I’m the greatest combo hurdler in college.

Im too lazy to type anything else so….yea…. I’m done

Chapter Four

In the BWI airport line I dread the thought of going back to school…

….Hopelessly trying to avoid my return to the juggling routine that will become of my participation in classes, track, and social activities

Staring past the plane’s wing out the window, I reassured myself that this season will be the fusion of hard work and the adherence to having ‘fun’ during the process…

… Driving, switching lanes in Derrick’s Altima reminiscing on how much we’ve all changed since freshman year, the inexplicability of life itself, and the mutual understanding that we’re both allergic to drama

Unpacking, annoyed, wishing I could PAY somebody to unpack for me, I find the tub filled with my awards, the sparks been lit

… Kappa party dreads swinging, teammates having more fun than should be legal, DJ reppin’ “Track Team” cause we bring life to any party

Jogging and drills with Shalonda, I’m forever thankful for her Christian influence in my attempts at getting on my grind on a spiritual level as well

…Chillin with the freshman whose names I chose not to remember, only to realize I write people off way to easily and each were kewl as hell and fit well in the team chemistry

Destroying 10 wings with Jamil, napkins dingy with hot sauce, wings as hot as the random discussion about Coach Frye

…Elderly and sleepy, I high jump into a bed that’s 3 feet high, underneath… clothes, shoes, lint, ,oh… and one of the tubs of awards

Stomach cramping from Brandi being RETARDED, making people mad at our extensive index of inside jokes

…Facebook addiction gets the best of me, Hennessey and Belvedre do as well

Backflipped because I found out I only needed three classes to graduate, fell on my face because I realized that I’ll have to do my internship next semester to stay eligible

… Random people at the Russell House (campus cafeteria) staring hard at the ‘track’ table because we laugh so loudly we kick over chairs, tears drip, sides tighten, and a scene always created

Praising GOD that practice hasn’t started, laughing to myself at nights for how few pushups I can actually do

… Random peeks at Osaka results get my hyped, though lined with familiar feelings of  ‘why isn’t that me?’

Decent schedule nothing too crazy, Wack teachers with the mindset that they’re the ONLY class students have to take the semester

…Sippin’ Gatorade on the ROCKS while Eddie and I exchange conversation about his female trouble, haha!

Clock reads 10:30, Jamil’s on the phone as always…ends the call, blasts reggae ‘Big Tunes’ mixed with Weezy’s mixtape, Ray’s the driver the Explorer parks in front of the club

… Team meetings I see new faces and familiar ones, some of which I wish would have gotten lost over the summer

Spend money at the mall like money grows on trees in our dorms courtyard, receipts tucked in my desk in case I have a change of heart on some purple and white Nike dunks that were my impulse buy of the day

…Verizon connects my family’s conversation as we entertain the idea of me going back to D.C. for Howard’s homecoming

Spades games bring out the ‘blackness’ in my team, Aaron realizing he can’t play worth a damn, Antonio pissed in affirmation

…Walking around campus in basketball and Jordan slides wondering why people act like we’re in HS wearing ALL their new school clothes the first week

Pillow behind be for support as I read a Toni Morrison short story for class, awoke too early thinking it would take considerably longer

… Feeling too profound to go back to sleep, I sit at a computer typing these very words…

The GIFT: An Epilogue

"To Give Anything Less Than Your Best, is to Sacrifice the Gift" ~Prefontaine

I watched the races…

…The mistake was that I watched the NCAA Hurdle races

I’d come home from my 8-5 tired from the day’s boredom, with pain in my back from the computer chair’s rigidity and sedentariness.  An empty house was my welcome… one sister in class studying for the Maryland Bar exam…my eldest sister spending time with her fiancée.  Echoes and stillness followed as I walked up the creaking wooden stairs to retire to my bed and poured myself into the normative post-work routine of facebook and myspace.

I found myself staring at the home page of trackshark, not understanding why I had typed its address out of habit, and more so why I couldn’t bring myself to check the results from nationals.  I thought I closed the chapter of my life titled ‘Track & Field’.  With its closure, I thought I bounded the book, set it on fire, and sunk it to the bottom of the ocean.  I shook off my uneasiness and viewed the results from nationals while my emotions ran a race of their own.

My sincere happiness to see my teammates performing so well got out hard, only to have a mid-race change see confusion take the lead.  Brilliant in its final kick, emptiness would eventually take the victory leaving me emotionally fatigued and in desperate need of the hydrator of clarity.  I never really closed the athletic chapter of my life…what I did was attempt to erase its content…and in its place a void that went unaccounted for.  Emptiness is the appropriate feeling when I saw two hurdlers from my conference that I’ve raced so many times, emerge as NCAA champions.  Emptiness is the emotion that characterizes the irony of knowing that both names have been below my own on past hurdle results.  Emptiness is just simply knowing that there’s nothing I can do about it.

I made a big mistake that day…I checked the results and watched the youtube races.  I never used to buy the plea of insanity in courtrooms; the idea that you lose complete control that you do the unthinkable… but that day I would need a plea of my own.  Enraged, annoyed, driven, and insane, I forcefully threw on basketball shorts, shoes, a SC tee, my ipod, my watch, and left the house.

I jogged… my first instance of exercise since the third hamstring strain March 24^th. I jogged until my body hurt like my pride had hurt when I was left home from Indoor Nationals.  My side ached like my heart did knowing that my future in track and field was as weak as my hamstring, the possibility of failure strengthening like my growing scar tissue.  My head throbbed with the fury of fists;  my mental morale had been throwing combative blows against the thoughts of running professionally, the hope of world records, and the simplicity of just having fun in track and field.  I jogged… 62minutes…I jogged….

As if schizophrenic, I talked to myself during the jog, raced along side my fear of failure, and passed the baton to my hope of finishing the upcoming season on top.  Am I crazy?... maybe I am.  Crazy for trying to continue the season after my second strain, crazy for thinking that most athletes make an honest living running track, or maybe just crazy for knowing that I have what it takes to be the best combo hurdler in the world.  I felt surreal while jogging, even in my pain, because I am born to run.  The length of my stride, the build of my frame, the fluidity, the naturality, these are my birthright to speed! 

An hour later, I turned onto my street, shirt damp with the physical signs of exertion, calves cramping from their previous inactivity.  But instead of disdain, I welcomed these ails.  I welcome the sweat and exhaustion… welcomed the dizziness and flirts with the unconscious…welcomed the birth --of a comeback.  I jogged to the front of my house, collected myself and open the front door.  I jogged up the same creaking wooden step, but this time hope followed.  I showered and scrubbed the doubt and cynicism of my peers, dried off the moisture of past mistakes, and put on the pureness of a white tee, a blank slate, a new beginning.

I made a mistake…I checked the results and watched the races…but these weren’t the real mistakes.  The only mistake was that I’d given less than my best, sacrificed the gift and almost let go of a God given talent.  We never struggle alone, and I’m reminded of an online conversation I had with Miki Barber.  She wears hot pink gloves as a physical representation of her comeback, her fight against past injuries typified by surgery on her ankle.  Yet in spite of it all, she’s running at USA’s…forceful and powerful in her drive phase… her drive phase exemplary of her drive in athletics as a whole.  Here 11.1s for 100m is more than just a preliminary time; it’s the validation for my own comeback and a victory for perseverance.

This will be my last entry, and I thank all those who’ve read my words, and most of all thank TB for giving me this opportunity.  In the process of typing these words, I’ve been allowed the chance to really put thought into how I feel about life, sports, and my impact on others.  To Justin (whoever you are), I’m thankful for a fan, To God-family-and friends you’re the real reason why I run, and lastly to those who responded to my ‘All Good Must Come to an End’ blog I appreciate your comments, but I ask you to strike the last sentence of my pervious entry: “Try not to forget about me this season cause…. I WILL be back” should read only these four words:

“…the KING is BACK!”

Update...

WARNING: Randomness!

Is it just me or does it seem like HS athletes these days are getting STUPID fast?  Are steroids in the water, creatine in skittles, or Epo in their Sunny D?  How I managed to go only 36.0 in the 300 hurdles and these young whipper-snappers going 35.2 is baffling!  There’s a new HS record every 3/5ths of a second… and all I have are knees that crack when I walk up the stairs, lol..

The truth is my age is showing because I can’t even really relate to track and field anymore.  When Dix ran 19.6, I remember thinking, ‘I don’t even know what that means.’  I’ve taken my absence from competing so well because it almost feels like my body can’t keep up anymore.  Those who really knew me in HS can attest to the fact that I never stretched, never touched a weight, and never cared if I won or lost… I’m getting my track 401k together cause I’m trying to retire, ha!

But next year will be the victory lap, even if I finish butt naked last.  You’ll see me smiling and laughing at meets cause t&f isn’t that serious.  If I feel like going to practice, I will, if I don’t  I won’t; feel like liftin weights kewl… too lazy, even more kewl.  If there’s a piece of advice a bruh can give you who has been on top and is sittin on his ass on BOTTOM right now; is to have fun cause the track years will speed by!

Yall be safe this summer!

All Good Things Must Come To An End...

There’s a time to be funny, and a time to be real….

I’ve reached a fork in the road that has left me not only confused, but concerned about the future of my athletic career.  I have made many mistakes in college, and these mistakes haunt me athletically and academically.  Though college is a learning process, the hope is that one doesn’t cause to much harm that the act of learning cannot fix the harms.  I regret nothing, for that is an act of futility and my hope is that in my mistakes and misunderstandings others may learn from me.

I’m ready for my VH1 “Where are They Now?” episode because my spikes are hanging in the balance.  Right now I’m red-shirting the outdoor season because I strained my hamstring 3 times in 9 weeks.  It was rough to go through rehab and it was even rougher to get hurt continuously but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I’ve learned a lot about myself and where track fits in my life through my injuries.  And it’s weekends when you’re left in your room alone because your team is off in the spirit of competition that you think, and think, and think about Track and Field and if its ‘really for  me?”

I DO NOT blame any external force for the predicament that I found myself in.  Coach Frye is an amazing coach as indicated by Shalonda’s success, Natasha’s record breaking season, and Thomas Hilliard’s rags to riches athletic story.  Our massage therapist Aaron Aviani is highly gifted as well as our athletic trainer Keri Gordon and I am blessed to have had an opportunity to work with them.  But in the end, u can lead a horse to water but… yea… I wasn’t drinkin’ a damn thing!

Here’s the irony of my situation:  I’m the happiest I’ve EVER been in college and I can’t make one spike tread.  I’d lost my joy in track through misguided expectations, an inability to balance sports and scholastics, and a socially disapproving track circuit geared for my demise.  I would go through the motions at practice, zone out frequently, skip weight lifting, and retire to the comfort of my successful mediocrity.

I’m happy because I’ve realized that I’m the last of the Renaissance Men, a title that I was given in my School Sports HS magazine article.  I’ve lost track of my Harvard law school bound intellect and my self-identity.  I put all my energy into track and field at the expense of mental, social, and even athletic health.  Now because of my forced departure from track and field, I can see clearly now and it bodes well for the future.

I’d like to clarify because I know you’re probably thinking I’m quitting track and field, which is hardly the case.  What I am thinking is that track and field must be in addition to the other dreams that I’ve wanted for myself and deny this idea that they are mutually exclusive.  Hell, I’ll put it simple…I want my cake and eat it too!

I’m fragmented, confused, and don’t make sense right now, but this does make sense: Try not to forget about me this season cause…. I WILL be back!

Screw HUNGER... I'm STARVING!

Here’s a quick entry to let you know I’m still alive (although Trackwire took me off the 60H list, lol)…

To say that I’m hungry to compete is an understatement…try STARVIN like Marvin!  I feel incomplete and retarded no matter how hard I tried to deny it.  When I first got hurt, it wasn’t so bad, but as the meets were contested without me, I progressively grew more anxious every hurdle cleared by other collegiate athletes.  The only, and I mean the ONLY thing keeping me sane, has been the success of my hurdle counterpart THOMAS!

I’m not too fond of classes right now and honestly have hit my lowest as far as my motivation for going to class.  You know when you NEED to do something, but you just don’t DO it…yea…that’s been me the last few weeks.  Alas I’ll get over it…

NCAA is this week and my future almost rests on the face of a coin.  It seems a 50-50 chance that I’ll be at NC’s, then there’s the chance that I’ll make it through practice, then prelims, then finals, and possible, just maybe with 90% miracle, 110% faith, and 120% heart I can take home a Championship title (please don’t be as stupid as to think I don’t know that doesn’t add up, lol).  PLEASE do not take this as a ‘I’m the sh*t, and will win nationals and nobody can stop me because I’m __(insert: a. incredible, b. amazing. c. the best or d. all of the above)___.   DO take this as me holding on to hope and an attempt to stay positive through trying times.

Randomness of the Week(s):  BEAUTIFUL LIAR.  It’s a track by Beyonce that I heard last year but she switched it up and added Shakira and came out with a video.  Fellas, the video is CRAZY!  A chick on campus ‘shared’ it on facebook…. let’s just say I’ve watched it more than too many times…. And let’s just say my laptop was on my lap and somehow managed to be knocked off the bed to the floor (HAHAHAHA!!!! Okay not really but close enough, lol)  It’s like a SUCCESSFUL version of R.Kelly and Jay Z’s Best of Both Worlds… Shakira is in it ‘pop lock and droppin’ (well kinda) and B is in it throwin her hips everywhere… for viewing pleasure the link is below… (but not for long cause you know youtube is gonna be like “video removed, copyright violations, lol)

Link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34_Fg-kssOU

Quote of the Week(s):  “When you see me running, your gonna be watching the A&E channel:  Azz and Elbows.  My freshman roommate Eddie said this when we were walking to practice.  I laughed so hard, I caught a cramp and had to save it as a text in my phone….

too lazy to check spelling and stuff, so um... shoot me

Adios…

I’m MORE than a RUNNER….

Introduction:  Since running seems to be so difficult for me, this blog is going to be more of a ‘get to know JaiRich’ instead of more crying and wining about my injuries.  At the end of the day I CHOSE to run, I don’t HAVE to run, so life goes on while I’m hurt.  If you don’t know or didn’t see (gotta love that Millrose was live!) I strained my same hamstring AGAIN, but it seems this time is worse than the first.  I’m not trippin though, because my second chance is in June….

Now that we got the depressing nonsense out the way, let’s try a different blog format ‘cause I’m bored of the SAT-like passage I’ve been writing:

About Me:

-‘to hell wit track’ is my phrase for the season

- I like to yell obnoxiously for my teammates when they run

- I hate feet, love chicken wings, and wish I was Robin Thicke since his wife is Paula Patton (the Idlewild chick)

- If I had a dime for every time I was lied on, I’d have enough money to hire a hitman to kill each and every one of them.

- I hate Starbucks, but buy it occasionally to feel ‘uppity’

- I’m a loser because I like to read

- I go through the motions in classes which is how I can get a 4.0 with 18hrs then a 2.8 with 12 hours, lol

- I used to hate to run

- My teammates are like a big happy family that I never asked for

- My eyebrows WILL…again I repeat…. WILL grow together if I don’t stop them and…yes I look like Bert…and No you cannot arch them (I refused to be called ‘sweatness’)

- I believe no truer words have been spoken than by the great social philosopher T.I. when he once so effortless proclaimed with strong conviction, “most [females] take your kindness for blindness”

- I’m NOT cocky, hell I don’t even like myself most days of the week

- There’s usually nothing wrong with me, I just have a HARD face

- It only takes pissing me off ONE good time for me to stop talking to you

- My friends are like a tree…if you’re my roots I will FIGHT for you.  If you’re my branches, I’ll test you to see how strong you are and if you’re my leaves…I will find you, cut you off, and burn you cause you takin’ the shine from my roots! (u have to see Madea goes to Jail to understand)

- I got good hair, well...I used to till I decided to grow dreads cause I was tired of looking too ‘cute

- I’m a CHRISTIAN!  Lets not forget the –IAN meaning I’m not CHRIST so don’t force me to be perfect

- I will NEVER gain weight

- the highlight of  my life was when Miki Barber @ Milrose  said , “u look cute though”, lol

- I like to give advice:  like this… WATCH who you befriend because someone might attempt to destroy your life by spreading an amusing RUMOR that your gay to everyone their voice reaches, lolololololol (please pray for him, cause God's pretty pissed about that, lol)