What's In A Name

For my birthday last year, I invited everyone to MAYhem at the Middlesex because it was the wittiest alliteration I could think of as I was composing the Facebook invite. But it stuck and between the alcohol, 15 cameras and non-stop dance party, people would always recall how much fun they had by saying, "Remember MAYhem at the Middlesex?" So when it came time to name my softball team, my work husband said to me, why don't you just name it after yourself - name it Mayhem! And so I did. But in true Masshole fashion, I also paid allegiance to my adopted home. I figured the name Boston Red Sox was already taken, so Mass Mayhem seemed like the next best option.

Putting the team together was hard work. It wasn't hard because I had to comb through craigslist listing after craigslist listing, or read email after email fraught with poor grammar. It was hard because I was determined to find people who were similarly devoted to and passionate about rec league softball (no mean feat) but who still had a sense of humor about the whole thing. And for the most part, I succeeded beyond my greatest hopes and expectations. It wasn't even like the team was trying to make me feel better, but by virtue of being the way they are, they were the one thing that kept me afloat in what was probably the most difficult time of my life. I cannot begin to recount the ridiculous in-jokes that were rehashed ad nauseum, the quiet words of encouragement, the loud insults that were really encouragement, the unyielding butt pats, the bear hugs, all the things that made the team the team. They were my family in a time when there was a massive void of stability in my life. Was I the best captain and manager they could have had? Hell no, I was an emotional wreck most of the time and I didn't know what the fuck I was doing all the time. But God bless them, they all stood by me and trusted me with making the best decisions for the team. Well, not all of them. But that's another story.

When I agreed to be on the relay team, I invited the then-boyfriend and another member of Mass Mayhem to join. One of the captains of the relay team was a member of Mass Mayhem, so when the other captain asked me if it would be ok for the relay team to adopt the moniker, I figured, why not? What harm could it do? Clearly, hindsight is 20 fucking 20. Being on the relay team probably marked my lowest point of the summer. It was the culmination of a bad relationship, a spiraling depression, vapid people, and a lack of emotional support. I left the entire experience practically suicidal. And by that time, the softball season was over and I missed the real camaraderie of my team.

Months have since passed and while I really like a number of people on the relay team, I'm more ambivalent about others, and downright rancorous about the rest. So when the time came to start registering for upcoming races, I told the captain that I wanted out and that I wanted them to stop using my name. Is it more than slightly petty and selfish of me to do that? I won't dispute it. Especially when the now ex-boyfriend is part of the relay team and I want absolutely nothing to do with him. But the truth is, the name means a great deal to me. It means a team, friendship, family. And there is only one Mass Mayhem. Just like there is only one Boston Red Sox or New York Yankees or Chicago Cubs. The players might change but the team stands for something. That's why the fans go back year after year, win or lose, rain or shine. Because the team represents something they believe in, something greater than themselves. The name is part of me; it is the best part of me that I've given to the team. And whether or not I'm still here in two seasons, I know that the spirit of Mass Mayhem will live on in the people I will entrust it to and in the people they will eventually entrust it to. The relay team on the other hand, is like the firms I had worked at before - they simply are what they are and even though I hated them because I didn't fit in, someone somewhere will and life will be dandy for them there. The only difference here is that the relay team bears my name but it bears nothing of what I believe in. And I would like to reclaim that part of me that all but survived the last six months.

21 Minutes...

...to my 31st birthday. This has been a shit year, no doubt about that. I think back to my birthday last year and I don't think I could have foreseen how much of a tumble I would take. Things were decent then and I had hoped that they would get better. And if I were to compare date to date, I'd say that things are actually better today than a year ago. But fucking hell, the sewage that I had to wade through in the months between was raw and vile. I hope never to repeat that experience again and I hold Jeff to his promise that in a year, life will be fanfreakingtastic.

Apart from the obligatory devastations (i.e. job loss, excruciating relationship, even more excruciating break-up, emotional breakdown, etc.), there were the added indignations of the Sox completely sucking the big one. Really guys? The one year that I really needed you to man up and give me something to believe in because my entire life was crashing down around me, you decide to collectively choke on it. But it's all right. Like an abusive relationship, I keep coming back for more. Maybe I need to not apply my attitude towards the Sox to my general approach to actual relationships...

But enough moaning about crap that has already happened. I won't say that looking at the year ahead doesn't fill me with trepidation, but I am grateful for all the great things this past year has brought, even while the walls were crashing down around me. And if there were good things to celebrate, maybe I can hold on to those for a while as I move into another chapter.

1. I ran 3 half-marathons and PRed at 1:55 at Applefest.

2. I captained a softball team to championship glory.

3. I didn't die (no really, this one could have happened and not by my own doing, if you were wondering).

4. I have a job I actually like for the first time since I left law school.

5. I've been accepted at all of the LLM programs I applied to and my first choice gave me a scholarship.

6. I met some amazing people (understatement of the year).

7. My new health insurance is fantastic (btw, you know you're getting old when health insurance makes it onto your list of awesome things...).

One of my biggest frustrations is feeling like I haven't done enough or accomplished anything of true importance. I don't know if I can ever shake that feeling. But I can try meeting it. And if you know me, it's never been about money, or status, or bling. It's always been about love, friends, and helping someone in need. And this year is about ME. I'm the person in need, I'm the person who needs to be front and center of me. I'm running a marathon for my personal gratification (and there is a certain about of sadistic joy in making my running partner go along for the ride). I'm hanging out with people I love because it makes me happy but I'm also reaching out to people I love when I'm not happy because that's what they are there for, goddammit. Yes, I do count the Sox winning the World Series the greatest thing that has ever happened to me thus far and no, I'm not embarrassed about it. If you can't let yourself believe in something bigger than you, if you can't just love without fear, or hope despite a near certitude of devastation, then you're the one I feel sorry for. Here's to another Sox/Mass Mayhem victory, and to a surprising and happy year ahead.

Mass Mayhem is 2009 Boston Champions!!!

After months of practice, hours of playing time, blood, sweat, meltdowns, and tears, our softball team finally emerged victorious. We are officially the 2009 EMAAC Boston Division Champions. And as usual, I am a Rubix cube of emotions. I am relieved that a very long season is over, along with its challenges (or rather, challenging people) and time demands. I am ecstatic that all our hard work paid off and our awesomeness as a team, not just as a solid playing team, is rewarded with this magnificent achievement. I am stunned that I'm actually part of, heck, that I orchestrated, at least in part, a team that brought home the championship. It's not really something I do, you know...win anything.

And of course, I am sad that it all has to come to an end. It's been a tremendous season of getting to know some extraordinary people, most of whom I would never have met if it hadn't been for this team and by whom my life has been greatly enriched. I don't think I've ever been so enveloped by a group of people with such gentle, nurturing natures, raucous senses of humor, and keen senses of friendship and camaraderie. It has been overwhelming and a true blessing. So to think that my time with them, at least in this configuration, is over, is bittersweet indeed. I know that I've made some lasting friendships and deepened others, and I'm excited to see how our paths will continue to cross. Some, and you know who you are, will never be able to be rid of me...

But my wistfulness isn't just because of the end of the season or weekly interactions, but from looking back at all the changes that have occurred since the team was formed. It just reminds me of how much has happened in the past few months, and not all were good happenings. When I look back at this time in the not-so-distant future, I want to be able to count the team as one of the highlights of that period of my life; one of the sustaining things that helped me through A Dark Time. And I want to be able to characterize the past few months as A Dark Time to delineate when the Dark Time ended and the Rest Of My Life began again.

But for now, I'll obsessively look at photos of us in action and wear the crap out of my EMAAC Champions t-shirt. Until the next season.

Tito Has It Good

I love my softball team. I handpicked each player because of their abilities and personalities. The one person I had reservations about including has since proven that I am a good judge of character and should ALWAYS listen to my gut. I'm the captain and the manager of the team. What that means is I do the logistics and generally make the executive decisions. But I realize that I probably know less about softball than most of my team, so I tend to defer to them when they have tactical suggestions. The difference between the rest of my team and this one black sheep is that everyone is easy-going and actually cares about the team and the other players; this one black sheep is mostly concerned about him. He's on the team, so he wants to win but he has no qualms about doing whatever to win, be it cutting players who don't meet his standards, or switching the positions on his own whim. He doesn't understand the concept of respect or communication and it is driving me crazy. I've been trying to let it go since the season is winding down, but once again he is trying to tell me and the team what to do. I want to set him straight but it really isn't worth it. People like him will never get it and I don't see the point in trying to do anything.

I'm sure Tito has had to deal with a lot of shit from his players. I'm sure he has gotten squeezed from the players on one side and the management on the other, but you know what? That's his effing job and he gets PAID. And he gets to win championships and get glory, and yes, criticism as well, but being the manager of a major league baseball team is an honor and a privilege. As I said, I love my team and I love being in charge of the team, but I'm just a schmuck who does it for the love of the game. So this motherfucker needs to get off my goddam back before I blow a fuse and pitch him in the head!

Yooooouuukkk!!!

I hope that Youk's brawl with Porcello (poor rook) is the fire under everyone's asses that we need to get our house in order. And of course it would come from the (sweatiest) man who embodies what it means to be a Sox.

One of the greatest things about this game is heart. Most sports value heart but none as much as baseball, where you grind out 162 games over six months through a spectrum of temperatures and weather conditions, different ballparks and rabid (or absent) fans, and a plethora of physical, emotional, and mental ailments. Baseball has longest season of any professional sport and ultimately, it is the player and the team with the most heart that will withstand all the challenges and dramas that the year will invariably bring.

The Sox have not seemed comfortable all season. We had young 'uns (Kottaras, Green, Lowrie) and liabilities (Lugo, Smoltz, Papi) that we all hoped would settle down given enough time a la Dustin, but no one has really been exceptional. The trades have been lackluster and we just haven't had anything to really get us excited. I'm excited about VMart, but even he isn't all THAT. But if there is anything I've observed through the years is that it only takes one thing to change the course of a team's fortunes. Something to just really rally them together. Maybe Youk getting scarily pissed at being the pitching bag for the opposing team (highest HBP count of the team, I suspect the stats will show of the league...) and in a sainted attempt at stepping up for his new teammate and charging the mound will show the team that HEY, we're the mother-effing Red Sox! And maybe them sonsofbitches will finally man up and act like it. Otherwise, I'm going to kick some ass.

I Get Why She Shot It Down

I fucking hate Mondays. I know it's not the most original sentiment but I get seriously depressed on Mondays. I think it's because I stare into the abyss of another week of pointlessness. I just don't know what to do with myself. This Monday has been no different. But just to indulge my bubbling pit of self-pity, these are the extra reasons why this Monday sucks:

1. I'm still unemployed after FOUR months. I think a fetus is viable after 4 months. I have been unemployed for the same amount of time it takes 2 cells to become a person. Just fucking kill me.

2. My back has started to hurt again. After months of running pain-free, my back has started up again and it has been killing me. I can't afford (literally, since I lost my health insurance) to be laid up so I have to stop running until the pain is gone. Which means that my one channel for dealing with how shitty I feel is gone.

3. My ankle still hurts after about 2 months. I went swimming a couple weeks ago and I couldn't do the freestyle because of the kicking. How long is it going to take for the swelling to subside?

4. My softball team is unraveling. Actually, I'm kinda torn on this one. Although we've been in a slide recently, I've also stopped taking it so seriously. Softball has been the one important and successful thing in my life since I got laid off, and a lot of my negative emotions have been coming out on the field, especially when we do badly. For some reason, I just went zen and accepted that there was nothing I could do about anything, and more importantly, that it just didn't matter. I still love winning and I still love softball and I especially love my team, but putting it in perspective, it just doesn't really matter. I guess I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing. Did I relegate something that has been so important to me to a lesser status in order to reclaim some sanity, or did I just lose something that had been so important to me and douse the passion that Ihad for one of the few remaining things in my life? And if so, what is sacred? Either way, our season is winding down and that's making me sad too. I usually love the Fall the best, but this Fall seems to be looming ahead as a possible reminder of how much I've failed and burned this summer.

5. The Sox suck. That, I really can't do anything about except whine and bitch and complain. And in all fairness, that's part of why you love a sports team. So you can talk about them like you know what the hell you're talking about. Because you care. Kinda like parents. But I digress. We are into August and the home stretch into the playoffs. Unless a radical change happens oh, TODAY, we are pretty much f-ed up the a. Which just goes to show what a fucking shitty year this has been. Started out good enough and now, the team is in shambles. And I guess it's hard to say that we were surprised. Our team is aging and built on either ridiculously expensive deals (Drew - God love him) or embarrassingly cheap ones (Smoltz, Baldelli). We should have and did see it coming. But we all held on and hoped to God that everyone would hold it together until the end of the season and then we could have claimed a miracle. But come on, we're not the A's; we have tons of money, how about we use it intelligently once in a while, eh Theo?

6. And just to cap it off on an existential note, I feel really lost. And I think that's the crux of why Mondays suck. I'm just lost. By the time Wednesday creeps around, I can look forward to the weekend and distracting myself with plans from the fact that I have no idea what is going to happen to me next week, next months, God only knows when.

So yes, I hope you're enjoying my pity party. Here's a party hat and I think there's more ice cream cake and vodka left.

Why I Run

It's not much of a secret that a lot of runners who start running later in life start because they are running away from something. Usually from bad relationships or life disappointments or major losses. In my running club, it's a running joke (badum bum) that most of us started running because we were trying to get over breakups. God knows that was why I started. I figured it was something I could do for me - shake some stress, clear my mind, get fitter, get healthier. Along the way I picked up a best friend, a bridge semi-relationship, and a boyfriend. The problem with that is I know what everyone's history is. And if it's anything like mine (which it inevitably is), then that means that we are all sorts of fucked up. And really, is that what I ultimately want?

Right around now is approximately my 1 year anniversary with my running club and my best friend. I started running with the club around May or June but it wasn't till July that I felt somewhat settled there. So much has changed in a year and while I was able to navigate some serious ups and downs, I wonder if my present troubles mean that I was remiss in learning certain lessons. So I keep running to keep from going crazy. Seriously. My therapist has prescribed a lot of running or else she'll have me committed. Ok maybe not, but no, really. I look at my best friend and I and I wonder how much we have healed and moved on from a year ago. We seem ok now - our pasts are in the past - but how much of it still haunts us and determines the decisions we make? Are some wounds so deep that they never go away? I feel fortunate that I have someone who understands where I'm at and whom I can identify with. It's not something I share with my boyfriend, but then again, I wonder if it's possible to share that kind of experiences with a significant other. I know I tense up when he talks about his ex and he's made is clear to me that he doesn't like to hear about my past relationships. Maybe when it comes to relationships, what we need to do it deal with our pasts on our own and come to the table as whole and clean as possible. I think the hinge is on "possible."

And we keep running. We run to clear our minds and to connect with one another. There's something about running with someone and talking to them, or running with someone and spending 6 miles not really saying anything. People ask me if I'll ever run a full marathon. I think I will at some point, but I'm not ready yet. Physically, I have to be careful not to reinjure myself, but I'm also not ready to put in that kind of mental and emotional commitment. Running is here to help me and I can't yet change it into something that rules my life. And that's why I run halfs. They are enough of a challenge that I have to make myself run a fair distance to train for them, but manageable enough that I don't have to kill myself for them. After 3 halfs, I'm at that stupid point where I'm addicted to them and they are actually fun for me. Who'da thunk it only a year ago?