See You in the Real World

This past weekend, I was one of almost 2,000 UNC students to participate in Dance Marathon, a fundraiser for the UNC Children’s Hospital where participants dance (stand) for 24 straight hours.

Quick summary: it was an incredibly exhausting yet amazing experience.  I collapsed once, cried twice, and would do it again next year if I could.

There are many things that stand out when I think of the weekend but one thing stands taller than the rest…

…the bathroom lines.

Or lack of them.

One beautiful thing about being a guy is that we are incredibly efficient at using the bathroom.

So, for the first 12 hours of the marathon, I thoroughly enjoyed walking past the long line of girls waiting to go to the bathroom humming (just loud enought to be overheard) the Beyoncé song, If I were a boy.

I got a few dirty looks but not quite as many as I expected and I couldn’t figure out why.

Then, 16 hours into it, feet tired, legs cramping, I realized one of the beautiful things about being a girl when you have to stand for 24 hours…

Girls get to sit down when they go to the bathroom.

That’s when I realized that half the girls probably didn’t even have to go to the bathroom, they just wanted a break from all the standing.

My suspicions were confirmed when I confronted a friend of mine…

(Bathroom girl turns and walks away humming Beyoncé’s Survivor…)

I guess sometimes things aren’t always what they seem.

(Girls – 1, Boys – 0)

…I love charity, god-I-hope-you-like-it-at-least-a-little-bit too!

That’s the cheer I made up for my fundraising campaign for Dance Marathon.

What the hell is Dance Marathon?

I thought you’d never ask.

In short, Dance Marathon is a charity event for The North Carolina Children’s Hospital where you have to dance (or at least stand) for 24 straight hours.

In long, it’s a great opportunity to meet some new people (something I love doing). You put a bunch of people in a room where they have to stand for a whole day, there’s going to be a chance to do some talking.

And if you can’t tell from this blog, I also love talking.

Um… why are you telling me this?

I thought you might ask.

I need to collect at least $100 by Friday, February 20th.

Right now, I have $2. One for giving a friend a ride to the grocery store and the other for whining to a girl at the bar that not only am I never going to be able to raise enough money but my dog died today.

She felt bad and gave me a dollar.

No, my dog didn’t die. (Hi Lottie)

But the whining-dog excuse is only going to work two, maybe three more times in the next week-and-a half so I need your help.

Even if it’s only a dollar, take a second and give some spare change, show some passion.

I don’t care if it’s because you feel bad for me or want to feel good about yourself. Either way, we all win.

(You – 1, Me – 1, Children – 1)

Fine, you got me, how do I give?

Thank god you asked.

You can give by either clicking the very obvious widget to the right of my homepage, or by going to my main giving site here.

In order to figure out whether you should keep reading, please answer the following multiple choice question:

Do you owe me a dollar because I lent you one in the past?
a) Yes
b) No
c) No, but how many people could possibly owe you a dollar?

If you answered either a or c, read on. If not, see you next post.

For the c-folk out there:

I’ve posted before about the opportunity cost of a dollar. Well here’s another example…

Last semester I realized that it was worth more than $1 to me for someone to owe me $1.

What are you talking about Alex?

I’m saying, I’d rather be able to point out to someone every time I see that person that he/she owes me a dollar than to actually have that dollar sitting idly in my wallet.

So for the past few months, every so often, I’d hand someone a dollar only to point out the next time I see that person that “you owe me dollar.”

If that person tried to return the dollar to me, I would politely refuse.

If you don’t believe me, try it out. I’m telling you, it’s a lot of fun. Way more than a dollar’s worth of fun.

For the a-folk out there:

Here is your chance to finally return that dollar you owe me. And I’m not even getting the dollar.

The children are.

So if you’re reading this and you’re tired of hearing about that dollar you owe me, click here (yes, it’s the same link as the one earlier in the post) and you never have to be tired again.

To those of you who gave, thanks.

To those of you who didn’t, I hate you… But thanks for at least reading.

UPDATE: $100 goal has been achieved.  Thanks again to everyone who gave.

Note: if you about to eat a meal, I suggest you put this post on hold and read it later.

Yesterday, I ran in the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

For those of you who don’t know, it’s a race for charity where you run two miles, eat a dozen donuts and then run the two miles back.

It was one of the worst experiences of my life so I thought I’d give you all a play-by-play of my miserable marathon.

Let’s begin at the beginning why don’t we…

A few days ago, while discussing strategy for the event, a friend suggested, “You know, your stomach is biggest about five hours since your last meal.”

I have no idea whether or not that’s true.

But taking my friend for his word, at 3:30am the night before the race, I put on my jacket and made the trek to Time Out to eat some Mac and Cheese.

Less than four hours later, my alarm went off and I nearly started crying.

Eyes red and legs tired, I got out of bed, put on some wake-you-up music, and faced the morning ahead.

15 friends and I carpooled (in angry silence) to Raleigh, waited in a few lines, and long after we knew it, were standing with thousands of other runners ready to make ourselves sick.

The race began surprisingly well. I came out of the gates with my head held high and my feet down low.

I don’t know how it happened, some call it adrenaline, others call it luck, I call it my competitive juice, but I finished the first two miles in under 15 minutes.

Breathing (painfully) heavily, I strutted over to the donut line ready to take on phase two.

I scarfed down the first cold, glazed donut, realized I was already full and almost started crying (again).

Manning up, I grabbed six donuts, smashed them together, dipped them in a cup of water and began nibbling away.

10 minutes later, after watching most of my friends finish their entire dozen and running off, I finished the smashed six.

Knowing what was ahead, I changed venues to the BP parking lot across from Krispy Kreme. I then smashed the remaining five donuts together, dipped them in water, took two bites…

…and immediately threw up.

Everywhere.

From there, I sort of fell into the rhythm of bite, bite, splap… bite, bite, splap…

I actually overheard a bystander remark to his friend, “Hey, that guy sounds like the drum line in that Queen song, We Will Rock You.”

They went on for a few minutes, maybe even mentioning “the glaze on my face” and “how big a disgrace I was,” but I didn’t care and eventually downed the last donut-bite.

A friend of mine (Chris) just happened to finish his donuts at the same time as me and we decided to jog back together…

…nice and slowly.

We lumbered along, getting passed by children on the left and old people on the right.

Embarrassed but determined, we kept our heads down and kept moving forward, slowing down only twice to throw up in a passing bush.

Finally, we rounded the last corner and the finish line came into view.

And that’s when the competitive juice kicked in again.

Leaving Chris behind, I began running faster, determined to beat a few of the runners ahead of me. But after passing four or five people, I started getting tired again and thought about slowing down…

Until I saw her.

A fourteen year-old girl who was quickly gaining ground on me from behind.

If I had to guess, I’d say her name was Kelli.

And with 50 yards to go, Kelli caught me.

Terrified, I looked at her.

And she looked at me…

…then smiled.

And that’s when I decided that there was no way that this cocky, self-righteous, non-sleep-deprived, joke-of-a-runner, girl was going to beat me in this race.

So I looked back at her with a grimace and choked out, “Good try.”

Then I ran.

Hard.

Harder than I should have been able to, harder than most people’s body’s would let them.

But hard enough to pass her.

And pass her I did. Just as the finish line approached, head down, arms behind me, using my last burst of energy, I passed her.

Once through the finish line, I headed straight to the closest trashcan and returned to the snare line of We Will Rock You.

After a few verses, I looked up and saw Kelli looking at me, confused, thinking, How could he possibly justify doing that to his body just to beat me in a meaningless race for charity?

And I thought back, You may be standing tall, breathing steadily and I may have thrown up every last bit of food and liquid in my body…

…but I didn’t throw up my competitive juice.

I win.

(Alex – 1, Kelli -0)

Note: Yes, I know the aforelinked T.I. featuring Young Jeezy song is about beats and not feet(s) but it just felt so natural.