During finals, I invert my sleep schedule so that I'm not distracted by such trivialities as human beings, fresh air or sunlight. This regiment is supposed to help me stay focused and on task, as I can't really go anywhere or do anything except write my essays and listen to the subtle nuances of West Philadelphia ambulance sirens.
Because I sleep through most daylight hours, at the end of finals week, I am functioning about as well as the elevators in High Rise South. So when I arrived home, I decided that my winter break would be all about relaxing. No Penn. No internship-searching. No job-begging. No stress.
I came hours away from fulfilling my goal. I watched a Full House marathon on Nick at Nite. I slept in multiple shifts and waddled around my home in pajamas. I played Mario Kart. If I thought about school, I was shocked with a small electronic collar hanging around my neck. If I thought about my lack of job prospects, I was beaten with old copies of 34th Street. Pretty soon I started thinking about nothing except hedonistic pleasure. I felt like Amy Gutmann.
And then I went on the annual Kramer family pilgrimage to Disney World to participate in a different type of marathon, a running one.
Running a marathon is perhaps the most psychologically empowering thing you can do. But around mile nine, as I ran through the Magic Kingdom, I realized that I was in a lot of pain.
I left Florida with a Donald Duck medal and a broken foot. Never again would I exert myself athletically, I vowed. My stress-free vacation had turned into a stress-fracture nightmare.
Crutches have never been the coolest fashion accessory on Penn's campus. They rank somewhere between artificial limbs and aviator sunglasses, perhaps a smidge below black pants and ass-skirts. And having them attached to my armpits has not only killed my shoulder muscles, it has really made me look at Penn from a totally different perspective.
I must admit that at first, the crutches were sort of great. No one gave me dirty looks when I got off the elevator on the first floor in High Rise East. I arrived 15 minutes late to class with nary a glance from the teacher. Students shot me nods of sympathy on Locust Walk. Slow and steady, I mumbled to myself over and over, wins the race.
The problem is, Locust Walk, unlike my marathon, is no race. In fact, walking nine blocks with crutches was in many ways more difficult than running the marathon, which I actually trained half-assed for. And after two days, when I got sick of having no hands, I decided to ditch the crutches and just hobble along with out them.
Big mistake. When I entered the elevator in my building on floor one going down, I was greeted with glares and mutters and eye rolls. I used the elevators around campus as much as possible, and many times was treated with angry scowls from fellow Penn students.
Without crutches as a prop, people assumed I didn't want to crawl up the steps in my fashionable sweatpants. In some buildings, I had no choice. The Center for Contemporary Writing and Center for Cognitive Neuroscience are not equipped with elevators or ramps for people who cannot use the stairs. If you can't use stairs and need to visit either office, you're screwed.
Besides, it's not always apparent when someone needs to use an elevator, even if they don't have an obvious prop like a wheelchair or crutches. We're not running marathons on a daily basis. We can wait the extra minute or two for someone to get on the elevator if they need to. It's not going to affect our pace.
On Friday night, I didn't pace myself. To unwind from the first week of class, I went to a 24-hour movie marathon in High Rise North with a few friends who vowed to make it through the entire night. We sat on a couch and watched eight movies in a row.
One by one my friends drifted off to sleep during the third Lord of the Rings movie, which was longer than the marathon. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep too. No one made it the full 24 hours.
After the movie marathon, I realized that trying to watch 24 straight hours of movies was really stupid. Had I slowed down during the marathon, my foot would not be broken. Had I slowed down last semester, it wouldn't have taken all of winter break to recover.
This semester, make sure your pace is comfortable. No need to go too fast and stress out. You'll still cross the finish line.
Melody Joy Kramer is a junior English major from Cherry Hill, N.J. Perpendicular Harmony appears on Wednesdays.
