Everyone wants to have a "good body." The problem with that is that involves working out. The problem with that is that involves the gym. The problem with that is that involves people. The problem with that is that involves moving. The problem with that is that involves sweating.
How does one get in a hard workout without caring who is on the lookout. The gym is all about the atmosphere. You can't be the kid who goes to the gym with all the elderly people who can out bench and outrun you. First of all, do you really want to get embarrassed by a seventy year old woman on the adjacent treadmill? The other issue is with the locker room where older people misread the sign and think of it as a open shared changing stall. Who wants to have to attend PTSD therapy sessions because of experiencing old people changing around them? There's no option but to go to the gym where the entire high school tries to be athletic at.
There are many types of "gym rats." The jocks... those who need the gym to get into college for their sport and easily lift absurd amounts of weight or don't break a sweat until mile 10. The 'pretty' girls... those who do not even try to break a sweat and look cute. The 'gym rats'... the ones who the front desk knows their name by heart. Lastly the people who genuinely use the gym for the purpose of working out and being healthy. These are everyone's role models. They sweat, are strong, run far and fast, and look good while doing it. In my mind, I am part of this squad.
Everyone at the gym knows the number one rule is when someone is using a machine do not choose to use the one next to them. Only use a machine next to someone if there are no other options. Now if you are like me and a competitive person, it's always a race of who can lift more or do it more reps or run farther. 8:50 p.m. Strutting into my local "cool" gym and got on a treadmill. Losing track of the long three and a half minutes of my brisk jog, soon I turned to either side and realized that every machine was full and a girl happened to be stepping on the treadmill next to me. Giving a slight smile, my right hand slyly slipped onto the control keys and cranked the speed up to 8.5 mph. As each beep that signaled a .1mph increase in speed, her treadmill was going up .2mph. It was an undeclared race. I would win. The longest minute of my life and my legs went numb. Before I knew it my foot accidentally ran on the side and my knees were being grated. I survived to tell the story but rumor has it I did two summersaults others say my hair got stuck in the treadmill, but the trainer claims I gracefully tumbled off and ended up dazed and confused on the ground. My racing buddy, the girl, looked like a gazelle who wasn't breaking a sweat after 6 minutes of 8 mph running. She managed to turn around, watch my fall, ask if I was ok, get the trainer, and then proceed running while facing backwards. How does one fluidly run and socialize while looking pretty? If anyone knows please share the secret.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Monday, April 6, 2015
Pain is Beauty...?
Hey bloggers, long time no talk.
The other day, I decided the caterpillars on my face were out of hand, meaning it was time to undergo the torture of getting my eyebrows done. Yes, it kills. Yes, it makes your face all red. But, your eyebrows look amazing. Just think about how many people will be envious of your beautiful eyebrows, capturing all of their attention. Of course, you have to endure the extreme pain of hot wax being poured over your unwanted hair. For someone like me, my eyes twitch. Yes, they twitch, so attractive, am I right? The ladies attempting to remove my eyebrow hairs constantly repeat, "Just relax, just relax." What do they think? I am just twitching on purpose? Yeah, I'll "just relax". I can't help the fact that I have a reaction to some stranger deciding the fate of my eyebrows. Eyebrows can make or break a face, like all those pictures of celebrities without eyebrows and even Taylor Swift looks ugly. Anyways, they say pain is beauty, but this is honestly crap. Pain is not beauty, pain is ugly. Have you ever seen someone in pain look pretty? No. By hurting yourself, you don't look any prettier. Sure, your eyebrows are gonna look fantastic but that is not because of the pain. There are other alternatives that could possibly make you look good. And you know what, you could look good without even doing anything that brings you pain. Anyways, I got a bit off topic today, but beauty was what we were talking about. Another painful activity that my mom made me go through the other day to enhance my beauty was getting my makeup done at Sephora. Ew. In the middle of the mall with everyone walking by I have to sit in this uncomfortable chair with some lady painting on my face. Then when she finishes covering up my entire face with some liquid stuff that is supposed to match my skin tone, she moves to the eye makeup. As I mentioned before, my eyes are twitchy and I don't do well with people coming near them, so of course when she attempts to do my eyeliner, it gets all over my eye, making me look worse. So, basically, I left and was in a bad mood the rest of the day.
Hope your days go better than mine,
Hadley
The other day, I decided the caterpillars on my face were out of hand, meaning it was time to undergo the torture of getting my eyebrows done. Yes, it kills. Yes, it makes your face all red. But, your eyebrows look amazing. Just think about how many people will be envious of your beautiful eyebrows, capturing all of their attention. Of course, you have to endure the extreme pain of hot wax being poured over your unwanted hair. For someone like me, my eyes twitch. Yes, they twitch, so attractive, am I right? The ladies attempting to remove my eyebrow hairs constantly repeat, "Just relax, just relax." What do they think? I am just twitching on purpose? Yeah, I'll "just relax". I can't help the fact that I have a reaction to some stranger deciding the fate of my eyebrows. Eyebrows can make or break a face, like all those pictures of celebrities without eyebrows and even Taylor Swift looks ugly. Anyways, they say pain is beauty, but this is honestly crap. Pain is not beauty, pain is ugly. Have you ever seen someone in pain look pretty? No. By hurting yourself, you don't look any prettier. Sure, your eyebrows are gonna look fantastic but that is not because of the pain. There are other alternatives that could possibly make you look good. And you know what, you could look good without even doing anything that brings you pain. Anyways, I got a bit off topic today, but beauty was what we were talking about. Another painful activity that my mom made me go through the other day to enhance my beauty was getting my makeup done at Sephora. Ew. In the middle of the mall with everyone walking by I have to sit in this uncomfortable chair with some lady painting on my face. Then when she finishes covering up my entire face with some liquid stuff that is supposed to match my skin tone, she moves to the eye makeup. As I mentioned before, my eyes are twitchy and I don't do well with people coming near them, so of course when she attempts to do my eyeliner, it gets all over my eye, making me look worse. So, basically, I left and was in a bad mood the rest of the day.
Hope your days go better than mine,
Hadley
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
ONE
On April 15, 2013 the city of Boston showed its resiliency. Two bombers with help from friends and acquaintances around the area set off two bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Known in Mass. as 'The Marathon,' it has been held by the Boston Athletic Association for the past 118 years, 117 as of 2013. Whenever something horrific happens, people remember what they were doing during that specific time with great detail.
April 15, 2013
8:50 a.m. 26.2 miles from the finish line, the Marathon begins and runners who have worked for the past year or more, start on their journey which often symbolizes more than just a run. Various people run for a cause and raise money, such as Team Hoyt which consists of Dick Hoyt who runs with his son Rick Hoyt. Rick Hoyt has cerebral palsy and his dad Dick pushes him the entire way in a wheelchair. The marathon in Boston symbolizes the coming together of not just one city, but unique parts of the world together with one goal.
10:50 a.m. My neighbor began running in the third wave of people to start the marathon. She had been training for the past two years to reach this point and be able to finish the race. Her dad ran behind her, but as the journey continued ended up over a hundred yards behind her. We were all cheering her on at home watching the t.v. thinking maybe her face would appear at some point over the course of the day.
2:49 p.m. The first bomb goes off and mayhem starts. Boston is rattled and people are shocked and confused. First aid responders are in the area and begin the respond. This explosion was closer to the finish line. My neighbor is yard away from completing her vastest goal of her life thus far. Panic sets in.
2:50 p.m. The second bomb goes off. People are injured, crying, screaming, and panicking. Little did everyone know the city we once knew and thought was strong would become even stronger and brave in the face of danger. Two bombs would not tear apart our city, but bring it together. The destruction and horrible damage done would also show those who have no fear and run towards the mess in order to help. Runners would keep running through the finish line and straight to the hospital district in order to donate blood for those who were injured and bleeding. First aid responders carried victims through hospital doors. Back at home, we are all breathless. Cell tower were immediately shut down in and around Boston. There was no way to reach my neighbor and know if she was ok.
Later that night, she and her dad returned to their house shaken up and forever changed. She was in between the two explosions which was only a few hundred yards. Her dad was intertwined in the crowd separated from her. Mayhem did not allow them to find each other until hours later. Millions of people were confused and adrenaline was rushing.
Luckily, out of all the bad, people learned something from the Boston Marathon. Everyone need to be thankful for the days they have on earth because you never know when it could be your last.
From all of the bad in the country and city we know, the names of the bombers should not be what people take away from the situation or what country they are from. What people need to remember are those who lost their lives that day. From each terrible event that happens, I personally try to remember the name of at least one victim.
For Sandy Hook Elementary School a mere four months before, I remember Charlotte Bacon.
For the Boston Bombings, I remember Martin Richard.
Never forget what forever changed our city.
http://www.onefundboston.org/
April 15, 2013
8:50 a.m. 26.2 miles from the finish line, the Marathon begins and runners who have worked for the past year or more, start on their journey which often symbolizes more than just a run. Various people run for a cause and raise money, such as Team Hoyt which consists of Dick Hoyt who runs with his son Rick Hoyt. Rick Hoyt has cerebral palsy and his dad Dick pushes him the entire way in a wheelchair. The marathon in Boston symbolizes the coming together of not just one city, but unique parts of the world together with one goal.
10:50 a.m. My neighbor began running in the third wave of people to start the marathon. She had been training for the past two years to reach this point and be able to finish the race. Her dad ran behind her, but as the journey continued ended up over a hundred yards behind her. We were all cheering her on at home watching the t.v. thinking maybe her face would appear at some point over the course of the day.
2:49 p.m. The first bomb goes off and mayhem starts. Boston is rattled and people are shocked and confused. First aid responders are in the area and begin the respond. This explosion was closer to the finish line. My neighbor is yard away from completing her vastest goal of her life thus far. Panic sets in.
2:50 p.m. The second bomb goes off. People are injured, crying, screaming, and panicking. Little did everyone know the city we once knew and thought was strong would become even stronger and brave in the face of danger. Two bombs would not tear apart our city, but bring it together. The destruction and horrible damage done would also show those who have no fear and run towards the mess in order to help. Runners would keep running through the finish line and straight to the hospital district in order to donate blood for those who were injured and bleeding. First aid responders carried victims through hospital doors. Back at home, we are all breathless. Cell tower were immediately shut down in and around Boston. There was no way to reach my neighbor and know if she was ok.
Later that night, she and her dad returned to their house shaken up and forever changed. She was in between the two explosions which was only a few hundred yards. Her dad was intertwined in the crowd separated from her. Mayhem did not allow them to find each other until hours later. Millions of people were confused and adrenaline was rushing.
Luckily, out of all the bad, people learned something from the Boston Marathon. Everyone need to be thankful for the days they have on earth because you never know when it could be your last.
From all of the bad in the country and city we know, the names of the bombers should not be what people take away from the situation or what country they are from. What people need to remember are those who lost their lives that day. From each terrible event that happens, I personally try to remember the name of at least one victim.
For Sandy Hook Elementary School a mere four months before, I remember Charlotte Bacon.
For the Boston Bombings, I remember Martin Richard.
Never forget what forever changed our city.
http://www.onefundboston.org/
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