The Misadventures of Mile High Greg

It’s September 2. It’s the fourth anniversary of the “We Need to Talk” conversation with the ex-boyfriend. The fact I remember this means I probably should be berated about moving on. (This is sarcasm.)  It’s not like I put a recurring event on Google Calendar that says “Remember Shitty Ex” on this date from here to eternity.  It’s more like small details bring back the memories. It used to be a barrage of anger, now it’s more remembering the rawness of the emotions I felt.  I’ve learned through my professional work to help children that triggers that lay just under the surface are part of the nature of trauma. I’ve now recognized that my trauma is valid, despite being continually told to “move on” in ways that were both well-meaning and ways that  showed a complete lack of empathy. “Move on” became a loaded phrase to me, but I could never quite explain why. About six weeks after the break-up, my boss at the time called me to essentially chastise me for being...

The concern troll has arrived!  I recently snapped a funny picture of a brewery sign while out for a run and put it in my Instagram story.  Someone replied, "Stop joking about beer.  It causes all your body problems.  You might be amazed at what would happen if you put in just a little more effort to be healthier." I think every person with body and weight struggles has met the concern troll at least once.  “I’m worried about you. You know, if you just (exercised more/tried a little harder/ate less), your problems would all be solved.” The reality is that the intentions behind these types of comments are tone deaf at best and really cruel at worst.  This is my list of advice to the concern trolls: WHAT I EAT AND DO ISN’T YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS: It’s almost as if any fat person has to demonstrate that they are surviving on a diet of air, celery, and water to prove that they are worthy of not being judged.  Go out for a friend’s birthday or occasio...

Intention is important to the message. However, when the intention isn’t clear, the receiver of the message is going to fill in the details. Honestly, I’m not sure if I would be offended if a diet bar came with my order of XXL t-shirts. I’m often hungry after work when I get my mail, so I might be excited for a free snack. At the same time, being a larger gay man, there is a long history of trauma associated with my body and my weight. I feel as if it’s important to mention the gay male part here, as it plays a role in these past traumas, and research in body issues and eating disorders highly suggests I’m not alone. I’ve had some really horrible things said and done to me that were directly in response to my weight. It fueled my healthy desire to be a runner. It also fueled an unhealthy relationship with food and disordered eating that has taken me seeking professional help to improve. I still receive comments about my weight that are direct and nasty. Back in January, a...

This is an official and largely comprehensive list of things that cause me anxiety: 1. I somehow leave the shower or sink on and leave the house for an extended period of time, coming home to a flood, 2. One or both of my headlights are going to go out when I’m driving and the police will somehow find all the cocaine I have been transporting in my car, despite the fact I’ve never used or sold cocaine and I’m unsure of how I would obtain it even if I wanted it. 3. I am going to get bit by a rattlesnake while trail running or hiking. 4. Kaiser Permanente will refuse to cover the medical expenses from said bite and I will end up living in a dumpster. 5. If I ever become famous enough to publish these blog entries as a book, Kaiser Permanente will sue me over number 4. 6. That the cute, but likely straight guy I am checking out at the bar will catch me in the act. 7. That the cute, but likely straight guy I am checking out at the bar will catch me and turn out t...

Mindy Kaling is my spirit animal.  I made that decision this evening while reading her book.   I’ve sorta wanted to read her book since about noon today when I found it sitting forlornly in the 800s Dewey Decimal section of a Denver branch library.  I’ve learned this is where the humor books are kept and I always hope to luck out and find a David Sedaris title I’ve yet to read. I did find one, but I decided to save it for later.  I guess Mindy wins by default. I hope she never reads this in the fantasy version of my life where she and I become friends because I’ve watched 3.5 episodes of “The Mindy Project.” I was desperate for physical books and I’ve been unable to find most of what I intended on reading this summer outside of an e-book. I made an attempt to get all cozy with my iPad, but reading e-books still brings back traumatic memories of my online master’s program.  I feel like I’m suddenly going to need to cite and annotate any text that I read ...

Several months ago, I received a wedding invitation for two old friends of mine who met at one of my running clubs. This isn't the first time I've experienced a run-through (or run-off) wedding. I've been to lots of run clubs.  By conjecture, I should be married.  I'm not.  I believe this is horribly unfair.  I am aware I am being slightly dramatic in this sentiment.  However, my essay, my rules.    This brings up the huge (and often frustrating) difference in gay dating versus straight dating. Straight people get lots of spaces where they can meet other straight people with similar interests. This isn't to say that all straight people magically walk into a social setting or Trader Joe's or that dive bar that serves shitty PBR down the block and emerge in holy matrimony.  Plenty of straight people have had to suffer through Plenty of Shit and OkStupid.  However, the law of numbers are social structures are greatly in favor of all y'a...

As an avid long distance runner, I have had my share of misadventures with feces in my day.  I still feel a certain sense of guilt over what I did to the bathroom at the Summerlin Kohl's while training for the Grandma's Marathon in 2013.  (I will spare the graphic details, but you can only imagine.) I've also had my share of conversations revolving around misadventures with feces with my fellow runners.  For some reason, near-misses of the poopy potty variety are just a way us runners can bond.  Because of this, I have a high tolerance for stories of poop, where other bodily fluid details, especially blood, cause me to cower in the fetal position in a corner.  However, even with this level of tolerance, I have my limits. A few weeks ago, I volunteered to work an aid station at a marathon training run.  We were stationed near a county trailhead along the Platte River Trail, strategically next to a porta-potty.  However, the county had been behind on...