Context: I’m going to be a junior in HS in the fall and want to take XC seriously. I just hit 32 miles this week after slowly building. Any advice would be nice.
I’m curious on what people think. I really like the underdog movies such as the Rocky franchise as well as the deep rooted movies like Good Will Hunting or Pursuit of Happiness. I might actually like those movies more since they contain humor, heart and some breath taking visuals. I would really like to see what you guys think about it and explain why the movie is inspiring to you.
The last thing I remember before drowning into her eyes was the cool city breeze, the lamp posts looking fuzzy, and the sound of blues from streetcorners.
Oh how dark those corners got.
The wind picked up when I left the bar. Another day wasted on thinking about last night. The knife cut into me the same way it cut into her, the pain she felt, the pain that left me.
It was pain, though the euphoria, the seemingly endless craving.
I hate whores. The dirtiest form of pleasure is coming from the same dirty street where Dahmer used to roam. Yet I still end up paying them.
While I was driving through downtown San Francisco late at 1 am in the morning, trying to clear my head of the embarrassments of my life, I spotted her.
A beautiful woman stood beneath the glow of the “Night Lemons” sign. Curvy. Well dressed. Almost too perfect for what appears to be a strip club like this.
I pulled the car up just in front of her, roll down the window as she bent down to look in. She’s wearing a snug violet dress with purple lipstick and black eyeliner. I also now understand the push up bra she’s wearing.
“Hey baby, can I help you?” She says, arms leaning against the door suddenly interested.
“I was just going to ask you that? What’s your name?” I say reaching out my hand.
“..Zoe” she says pausing for a moment.
“Well..Zoe, mind if we get out of here?” I say kissing her hand, noticing her nails painted neatly.
Zoe smiles and hops in the car. The scent of lavender catches my nostrils unexpectedly.
“So where do you stay?” I say.
“I don’t want to go home yet, can we drive for a bit?” She says hands on her lap.
I don’t want to but agree and start driving, the cool breeze hitting my face as the windows are rolled down.
“Why are you out this hour?” Zoe says now looking at me.
This surprised me. Why is she asking about me? Doesn't she want my money?
“Can’t sleep, so I drive and meet pretty girls like you.” I say smiling.
“How sweet. I mean seriously though, don’t you have a wife?”
I pause, I can lie or admit that my wife is at home sleeping. I lie.
“Nah, divorced for about a year now, why do you care?” I say
“There’s always a light at the end of a long and dark night.”
That confuses me and I look over. She's gone.
I blink a few times and panic.
“What the fuck?” I say as the once woman sitting in my car vanished.
As I’m pondering where the hell she could be, a car smashed my side door as I crossed a red light.
The hospital beds always felt the nicest when you have a bowl of jello. The doctors asked how I was doing and a broken arm, 4 broken ribs and a fractured collarbone later I can say I wasn’t okay. Where was Zoe? I somewhat cared for her, she was nice to me.
“Excuse me?” I say dryly. “Where can you find Night Lemons, you know the whore house downtown, I was trying to look for it but I just couldn’t.”
The doctor looks at me concerned.
“Sir, is your head okay?”
“What? Yes?”
“Sir, between you and me I’m a frisky guy but I never heard of Night Lemons.”
I asked for my phone and smashed Google. Night Lemons. Nothing came up.
Night Lemons never existed.
(Rough Draft-criticism is asked for)
The last thing I remember before drowning into her eyes was the cool ocean breeze, the light posts looking fuzzy, and the sound of blues from streetcorners.
Oh how dark those corners got.
The wind picked up when I left the bar. Another day wasted on thinking about last night. The knife cut into me the same way it cut into her, the pain she felt, the pain that left me.
It was pain, though the euphoria, the seemingly endless craving.
I hate whores. The dirtiest form of pleasure is coming from the same dirty street where Dahmer used to roam. I’m not like him, I don’t kill to kill.
While I was driving through downtown San Francisco late at 1 am in the morning, trying to clear my head of the embarrassments of my life, I spotted her.
A beautiful woman, a brown haired, curvy, put-together lady standing beneath the illumination of the “Night Lemons”, appearing to be some sort of strip club.
I pulled the car up just in front of her, roll down the window as she bent down to look in. She’s wearing a snug violet dress with purple lipstick and black eyeliner. I also now understand the push up bra she’s wearing.
“Hey baby, can I help you?” She says, arms leaning against the door suddenly interested.
“I was just going to ask you that? What’s your name?” I say reaching out my hand.
“..Zoe” she says pausing for a moment.
“Well..Zoe, mind if I take you home.” I say kissing her hand, noticing her nails painted neatly.
Zoe smiles and hops in the car. The scent of lavender catches my nostrils unexpectedly.
“So where do you stay?” I say.
“I don’t want to go home yet, can we drive for a bit?” She says hands on her lap.
I don’t want to but agree and start driving, the cool breeze hitting my face as the windows are rolled down.
“Why are you out this hour?” Zoe says now looking at me.
This surprised me. Why is she asking about me? Doesn't she want my money?
“Can’t sleep, so I drive and meet pretty girls like you.” I say smiling.
“How sweet. I mean seriously though, don’t you have a wife?”
I pause, I can lie or admit that my wife is at home sleeping. I lie.
“Nah, divorced for about a year now, why do you care?” I say
“There’s always a light at the end of a long and dark night.”
That confuses me and I look over. She's gone.
I blink a few times and panic.
“What the fuck?” I say as the once woman sitting in my car vanished.
As I’m pondering where the hell she could be, a car smashed my side door as I crossed a red light.
The hospital beds always felt the nicest when you have a bowl of jello. The doctors asked how I was doing and a broken arm, 4 broken ribs and a fractured collarbone later I can say I wasn’t okay. Where was Zoe? I somewhat cared for her, she was nice to me.
“Excuse me?” I say dryly. “Where can you find Night Lemons, you know the whore house downtown, I was trying to look for it but I just couldn’t.”
The doctor looks at me concerned.
“Sir, is your head okay?”
“What? Yes?”
“Sir, between you and me I’m a frisky guy but I never heard of Night Lemons.”
I asked for my phone and smashed Google. Night Lemons. Nothing came up.
Night Lemons never existed.
The last thing I remember before drowning into her eyes was the cool ocean breeze, the light posts looking fuzzy, and the sound of blues from streetcorners.
Oh how dark those corners got.
The wind picked up when I left the bar. Another day wasted on thinking about last night. The knife cut into me the same way it cut into her, the pain she felt, the pain that left me.
It was pain, though the euphoria, the seemingly endless craving.
I hate whores. The dirtiest form of pleasure is coming from the same dirty street where Dahmer used to roam. I’m not like him, I don’t kill to kill.
While I was driving through downtown San Francisco late at 1 am in the morning, trying to clear my head of the embarrassments of my life, I spotted her.
A beautiful woman, a brown haired, curvy, put-together lady standing beneath the illumination of the “Night Lemons”, appearing to be some sort of strip club.
I pulled the car up just in front of her, roll down the window as she bent down to look in. She’s wearing a snug violet dress with purple lipstick and black eyeliner. I also now understand the push up bra she’s wearing.
“Hey baby, can I help you?” She says, arms leaning against the door suddenly interested.
“I was just going to ask you that? What’s your name?” I say reaching out my hand.
“..Zoe” she says pausing for a moment.
“Well..Zoe, mind if I take you home.” I say kissing her hand, noticing her nails painted neatly.
Zoe smiles and hops in the car. The scent of lavender catches my nostrils unexpectedly.
“So where do you stay?” I say.
“I don’t want to go home yet, can we drive for a bit?” She says hands on her lap.
I don’t want to but agree and start driving, the cool breeze hitting my face as the windows are rolled down.
“Why are you out this hour?” Zoe says now looking at me.
This surprised me. Why is she asking about me? Doesn't she want my money?
“Can’t sleep, so I drive and meet pretty girls like you.” I say smiling.
“How sweet. I mean seriously though, don’t you have a wife?”
I pause, I can lie or admit that my wife is at home sleeping. I lie.
“Nah, divorced for about a year now, why do you care?” I say
“There’s always a light at the end of a long and dark night.”
That confuses me and I look over. She's gone.
I blink a few times and panic.
“What the fuck?” I say as the once woman sitting in my car vanished.
As I’m pondering where the hell she could be, a car smashed my side door as I crossed a red light.
The hospital beds always felt the nicest when you have a bowl of jello. The doctors asked how I was doing and a broken arm, 4 broken ribs and a fractured collarbone later I can say I wasn’t okay. Where was Zoe? I somewhat cared for her, she was nice to me.
“Excuse me?” I say dryly. “Where can you find Night Lemons, you know the whore house downtown, I was trying to look for it but I just couldn’t.”
The doctor looks at me concerned.
“Sir, is your head okay?”
“What? Yes?”
“Sir, between you and me I’m a frisky guy but I never heard of Night Lemons.”
I asked for my phone and smashed Google. Night Lemons. Nothing came up.
Night Lemons never existed.