So here begins "Things Jane Says," in which I'll be trying to share with you the amusing, terrifying, morose, endearing, bombastic, self-aggrandizing, and additionally altogether-difficult-to-define things Jane says to or around me. You all know Jane says nothing but sweet and loving things to everyone, right? Except to me; but with luck there'll be many things shared here that other coworkers say, especially Mandy, Corynne, Madeline, Olivia and Emily, all of whom have at times taken the sole duty of embarrassing me upon themselves, for the betterment of all of your eyes, of course. xoJane!
Jane and I went shopping for running shoes at Jack Rabbit last week. To begin with, it's hard for us to spend any amount of time together as her requests are so demanding and I’m just flat "disrespectful." I mean, there's so many of these requests and they come in all forms at the exact same time: texts like, “Would you be able to provide an update of the San Francisco trip for me?;” voice mails which are actually just conversations I think Jane is having with Charlotte at the expense of my voice mail; g-chats like, “Tyler, may I borrow your charger?” and of course emails with a plethora of monstrous demands—“is there any way that we can move the 2:00 back ½ hour … do you know Darlene’s e-mail?” And then there's always the way she sneaks up to my desk at the exact moment I'm trying to g-chat Corynne about how tenuous this whole "Jane Pratt's assistant" thing is. SO demanding!
About a week ago, Jane and I were talking about our running habits. I was lamenting my first "race," in which I ran way too fast the first few miles then had to walk the last as I'd taken all of my steam out, thinking I could finish in the top ten against all those gliding, sweatless professional runners. Truth is, I'm one of those runners who cannot stand getting passed when I'm out on a run. If I even hear someone breathing I tend to start sprinting. It’s a cathartic two-pointer—you’re running away from someone but also ahead of them.
"I do the same thing!" said Jane, "Nobody is going to pass me!"
I guess you could call this our first (and perhaps only ever) bonding moment, solidifed later when we both divulged how we cannot return on a run the same way we began the run, often choosing to dart off paths, leap over benches, and parade in what must seem a rather offbeat or even raucous jaunt. Readers: do you have strange running habits? Do you return the way you came, in running and metaphorically speaking? Ever run while listening to an audio book? I did that recently and I ended up miles away, somewhere south of Red Hook, distraught and depleted, trying to relate fictional Don to a friend of mine. "I also can't listen to music while running," said Jane. "And I don't like running with other people." I share both of these sentiments, though I think there are a few running partners for everyone out there, and if you find them keep them close. But it's the freedom of running and working through thoughts that's enticing here and that must happen alone, at least that's why I run. To note: I once went on a blind date with a woman and the first thing we did was go on a six-mile run together. It was remarkable. Yet she ended things not long thereafter, post-karaoke (another story).
We left the store after Jane found some great kicks and I stored facts about the ones I felt worked the best, with the intention of going and procuring them sometime next week. I found two pairs of amazing socks though, which I’m going to use in about three hours without headphones and in the alone pattern that running itself makes, breath gust breath. Jane also sarcastically told me that I picked the best socks possible to find shoes in, a pair of dark brown dress socks that keep the academic in me feeling outfitted (see video).
Anyone demanding anything outlandish from you lately? What are your routines or non-routines? What do you think Jane will be saying next? About the latter I could care less. And It's really good to be here.