The quest through my senior-year bucket list is going strong. So far, I have checked off 18 items in about eight weeks. Not bad, considering this year seems to be passing by at a rapid and accelerating pace. Fall semester is a particularly good time to capitalize on all kinds of outdoor activities. Of course, living in Florida, there’s really nothing that marks “fall” apart from Trader Joe’s shelves stocked with pumpkin butter, pumpkin tortilla chips, and pumpkin samosas (they’re actually really good, in case you’re wondering). That and, of course, game days.
If I’m being totally honest, the whole SEC football scene has never been my favorite part of college. Funny, considering I go to one of the largest SEC schools in the country. Still, my closet suffers from a serious dearth of orange and blue clothing, and until recently, I had never properly done the beloved game day. I had been tailgating, gone to games, and gone out, joining in on the whole “How about that game, huh?” But I had never done the whole trifecta consecutively. Until now—UF vs. Ole Miss.
Luckily, this was at a point in the season when UF remained undefeated and the air buzzed with electricity. I prepared thoroughly—getting to bed on time, setting out my outfit, and making breakfast burritos for my friends before embarking on the long day ahead. And long it was. Per usual, there was stale beer, globs of mac and cheese on the floor, and the beating sun during lulls in the game. But taking in the action made me realize why all of this lives at the heart of my school in the first place.
Being a Gator means banding together with pride. I could see it in the way girls held themselves in starched denim dresses, ribbons in their hair. I saw boys roughhousing with their friends, embracing after touchdowns—not awkward or timid, just Gators. I explored the frat houses and took pictures with my friends. When Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down” came on after the third quarter, I thought about how many times this song had played and how many people had stood, arms draped around each other, singing it in unison.
Reflecting back to when I was eight years old, I remember my brother waking up at 7 a.m. He dragged me from my bed, dressed in some god-awful orange and blue regalia, face painted, arms duct-taped. At the time, I was so confused. He wasn’t a morning person or a big football fan. Who was this guy, and what had he done with my brother? Looking back, I see how being a Gator changes you. Football and its festivities come to represent all the ways you have grown in four years. You are tired and your feet hurt, but when the fireworks explode and the Gators win, you stop to think—it’s great to be a Florida Gator.
Aside from such obvious fun , I also hope to use this remaining time to challenge myself.
If you know me, you know that I am not a runner. I blame this on a number of things—my flat feet, the fact that I live in Florida (again), and, quite frankly, that I’m just not good at it. Unfortunately, putting my thoughts on the internet means I can’t escape my own advice. Even back in 2020, I knew this was a cop-out. So, when my friend suggested we start running, I begrudgingly agreed.
While I am not a “runner,” I have run before. How hard could it be? I’m pretty fit. I don’t need training or the right shoes. I can eat a whole meal at 3 p.m. and then go run at 5. Right? Wrong.
Running challenges me in more ways than one. First, it is physically excruciating. You will have to stop once, if not multiple times, to catch your breath. You will feel existential dread at the sight of a hill in the distance. And even if you never skip leg day, you will wake up with legs aching from quad to ankle. Lovely.
But more than that, it will challenge you to show up again. To run slower this time. Hydrate hours before. Warm up before and stretch after. Maybe run for time instead of distance. Maybe just get an actual plan.
Regardless of such hurdles, taking on a new challenge provides me with the chance to do something novel. It allows me to “suck” at it and get back up even if I fail. It has taught me the importance of endurance, both physically and mentally; to let my mind wander, looking at the run as a series of checkpoints rather than one long haul; and to approach other areas of my life in a similar way.
Phew. As you can see, it’s been a lot. Many days, I wake up at 6:30 and go to bed past midnight. It’s tough to balance my time and energy—everything I have to do with everything I want to. Still, it’s important to rest and recover where you can.
In my opinion, a good date achieves just that. It energizes you, gives you something to think about, and informs how you interact with another person, for better or worse. I love dates. Granted, I haven’t been on many of the kind you’re probably thinking of. I assume you’re picturing fancy dinners and a man in a button-down shirt; slow dancing and burning candles (at least, you should be). No, I use the word date more loosely here.
This week alone, I have been on four—one movie date, two coffee dates, and one very long walk. What can I say? I like to play the field. From friends to strangers to being all alone, I call all of these “dates” because they afford me time to connect with someone one-on-one. I think there is real beauty in interacting simply out of curiosity. It teaches you how to converse or banter, how to disagree, and, most importantly, it reminds you of all the good in the world.
Sure, some dates go terribly, horribly wrong. Most of mine do not (subtle flex), but even if they do, you leave knowing a bit more about yourself and some very random topics. With others, I learned about cinematic tools and astrology. And even alone, just me and my journal, I had time to think about everything—game days and 5Ks, good conversations and bad first impressions, and the type of girl I am becoming as I navigate this chapter of life.
Happy Living
“It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.” – Diana Gabaldon
