A Return to Coffee

One final word, on that race. (The report is fast becoming the most read thing I've put together, so I feel vindicated in spending so much time writing about it.) It would be easy, given that I fell so short of my stated goals, to be disappointed. Thankfully, it's just as easy not to be. Events happen; we choose how we perceive them. I ran 35 great miles, despite my mistakes. And those mistakes will be learned from. If this were easy, there would be no satisfaction in success. I can choose to be encouraged, and thus choose happiness; or, I can choose to be discouraged, and be pissed. I'm taking the former.

But enough about that. Today, I got back to work, after four days off. I am a barista first and foremost, who runs on the side - not the other way around. And much better, as it turns out, at making coffee drinks than running 50 miles. Of course, you could argue that making drinks is easier; but take someone who's never done either, and both will yield awful, messy results. The point is, the latte art clicked; the shots clicked; my feet clicked (ouch). I felt comfortable. I felt, as cliche as it sounds, at home.

And that's the odd thing. Or rather, I say it's odd, because there's the expectations that it is. But really, my affection for coffee bar work is well documented. It's just that most people hate their jobs - or so we're told. But I don't. Not at all. In fact, I miss it when I'm gone, and feel somehow infinitely right in returning. And this sentiment I'm expressing? Built up after a whopping four days off.

God forbid I ever have to do something else.