Focus

Warning: this blog post contains adult language.

Further Warning: This is a "personal" blog post. Sometimes I cathartically write for myself, to myself. To justify my feelings to myself and link my thoughts to other media that supports my thinking. Like a scrapbook page ;-)

It is not intended to offend.

When you're a woman on a mission, people aren't going to understand you. They aren't going to get you. The whole neighborhood may think you're strange. They will think you're anti-social or "intense" maybe even a bitch.

You're up early, training. People think what you're doing is "recreational." Maybe even selfish. How dare she take time to go to the gym, get on the water, or hit the trail when she should be socializing, cooking, or kissing other peoples' asses is some way. Because that's what women are here on earth to do, right?

Funny story: last year Stephanie and I were staying in a small apartment complex in Hood River, OR. I could tell people were interested in us. The way they're interested in a caged tiger at the zoo. A mix of curiosity and caution. The complex organized a cook out for the inhabitants to be social. They all kinda knew each other already, it could be that they were trying to coax us out of our den to study us further. Sadly, they used the wrong bait. They had wavy chips, red hot dogs, and some other cheesy, greasy carbs. If you've ev