Professional Athlete Trapped in an Almost Professional Athlete's Body...

Yes, not only do I write, but I'm an athlete too. Aren't I a catch? Joking aside, the problem is, I've come to realize that I'd be happiest if I could just run track and write for a living, but both things don't exactly put bread on the table. Writing wise, I've paid my dues, refined my craft, and gotten to a point where I'm able to put my pen to paper with the best of 'em, but writing alone still isn't all that secure of an occupation. Athleticly speaking, I'm a world class runner... if you count those guys from the tiny countries who get smoked in the olympics (my times are on par with theirs, so yeah, I'd be the fastest guy in the country...of Kazakstan or Slovakia), and I pretty much just missed the cut off for being noticed by any colligate programs where I would get scholarships, extensive training, and a chance to really improve, sooo, despite enjoying the sport, there's nothing more I can really do with it. (So count yourself lucky Usain Bolt... for now)

Anyway, in both circumstances, in track, and in writing, I'm right on the cusp of being able to make a living out of it, but I'm not there. For writing, I'm planning on becoming a professor and making a steady income that way, but for track, I just have to face the facts that I'm faster than your average joe, but not fast enough to earn the money to pay for a cup o' joe. Although today, I spent about three hours promoting the track team I've been organising during my time here at St. Joseph's College of Maine, and despite doing nothing but posting flyers, taking names, along with thinking and talking track, I was just as happy as when I write a great poem. Figures, the two things I love doing don't pay a damn thing, so whoever said, "do what you love for a job" can bite me. However, should I turn around and find a way to make a stable income off writing and running, I will of course appologize to that sage speaker, and revoke the "bite me" declaration.

In summation, this was a rant. Nothing elaborate or cleverly designed, just me ranting away, and for that, I thank you, the reader, for spending (or wasting) your time reading this.