Confessions of a Minimalist

Since Andrew and I are both planning to run the OKC Memorial Marathon at the end of April, we have recently begun training with a running club called the Landrunners.  On any given week, there are between 100 and 300 people who come out to run part of the marathon course together.  While I definitely appreciate the convenience of having water set out for us every few miles and the motivation of actually getting out of bed on a Sunday morning because so many other people are there doing the same thing, I have come to one big conclusion that applies to far more things than running:

People tend to live with far more than what is necessary, or take a good thing and get way out of control with it.

This morning, my personal running plan was to run 16 miles.  That's what my schedule said, and if you know me well at all, you know that I'm all about sticking to a schedule.  The Landrunners were doing 20 miles (which, by the way, is very ambitious at this point in the training schedule...and they are planning to do two more 20-milers in the next seven weeks).  I thought to myself, "I'll just turn around at some point to do my 16 miles and let everyone else do what they want to do."  The problem was that NO ONE turned around, and I would have been completely lost trying to figure out how to get back to the starting line.  So I ended up running 20 miles, fuming and miserable during the last four miles that I hadn't prepared to do.  When I got back in the car after the run, I looked at Andrew and asked him when we got so crazy.  Maybe I'm in for a huge surprise on race day, but I have run three marathons before, and this Landrunners schedule seems like overkill.  Yet, I felt compelled to do it because everyone else was.

Ugh.  The straight face says it all.

Another thing... I ran in my marathon finisher shirt today, not because I want to brag on myself for finishing, but because it is one of three long-sleeved running shirts that I own.  Shirt #2 is also a finisher shirt (both of which I got for free), and the third is a $6 Danskin shirt that I randomly found at Wal-Mart.  I also run with my iPhone 4 (so last season, I know) because I found a Nike+ running app that tracks my distance and pace. Aside from that, I throw on a pair of shoes, my one pair of leggings, and I'm good to go.  Simple works for me.  However, when I get around huge groups of runners, I am suddenly convinced that I need that fancy Brooks shirt, the earmuffs with headphones built in, or the $200 Garmin watch that does the exact same thing that my phone does.  Nobody is rude about their stuff, and no one gives me funny looks for my lack of running gear, but I somehow feel like I am not a serious runner because I'm not "keeping up with the Joneses" (sometimes literally in this case).

Oh boy, and now let's talk about babies.  There's a good thing that gets way out of control.  Babies R' Us would have you to believe that you need at least 786 items on a registry.  I might be in for a huge surprise on this one too, but the minimalist in me likes to think that a baby really only needs a few things.  After all, people have been having babies for thousands of years, and babies back then grew up just fine without Baby Einstein, boppies, and bumbos (or whatever you call them).  My mind keeps going back to the quote that Andrew's mom keeps out in their house:

"Happy people don't necessarily have everything, they just make the most of everything they have."

Confession:  I can be pretty prideful about living simply.  I don't like a lot of "stuff" because I feel like it clutters not only my house, but my mind.  That said, people need to do what works for them and I need to stop judging.  After all, I'm pretty sure my world is about to rocked when Baby Fenrick arrives and I suddenly realize that the bassinet or the special kind of thermometer weren't such bad ideas after all.