I go for my annual checkup tomorrow, but 12 hours before, I can’t eat or drink anything but water. You have no idea how grouchy I am at the idea that I’m going to have to wait ’til 9:40 tomorrow before I can have my first sip of coffee. This morning, I was so hungry after I got to work that I had my 10:00 granola bar at 9:15. This doesn’t bode well for tomorrow. Worse yet, there’s a Dunkin Donuts within steps of my doctor’s office but I’m trying to be good—still training for Broad Street—and I gave up donuts for Lent.
Needless to say, I got nothin’ today. I’m going to try and write, if I can, but I already wrote 2100 words and the Muse needs a nap, but I don’t feel like sitting on the couch, knitting. Yeah, I know: me? Yup, me. Though an episode of Downton Abbey might just tempt me. Not quite the same as watching my hero and heroine banter in the gym, but we’ll see.
Wish me luck. I’m hoping to see some good cholesterol numbers, after a year as a vegetarian.
There’s also the matter of my oldest turning 18 on Friday. The plans I originally had in mind, don’t seem to be coming together, but it’s possible they’re just postponed. Still, I’m old enough to have an 18 year old kid? My baby… <sniff>
Until I saw mention of it online, I’d forgotten the 20th anniversary of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. It got me thinking about how different my life and the world is since then.
If you want to read another interesting perspective on the event, from someone else who didn’t happen to be in the building at the time, check out this Huffington Post article.
I have to find my blue “Welcome Back!” mug. I know I still have it, and like Buck, I’ve never taken a sip from it. At the time I got it, I didn’t think too much of it. Now, it’s priceless to me.
No, not the blog. I’ve been doing this for too long.
I’ve been excusing my lack of weight loss progress over the last four months, saying it’s hard to lose weight in the winter. Our bodies are still under the impression we’re cave people who need to hold onto as much weight as possible in order to survive the colder months. It’s the only thing that makes sense, considering I’ve spent most of the winter in the gym, working my tail off and getting nowhere. Sure, I snacked now and then, but to bounce around the same 5 pounds for 4 months? Aggravating, to say the least.
But winter is almost over, so I plan on seeing some success again soon. More than that, I have a reason to get back to working my tail off:
I was chosen in the Broad Street Run registration lottery!
I still can’t believe it. I’m SO excited! This was the goal I set for myself last year, when I was still a newbie runner. I’d just seen the news reports of the Broad Street Run and I told myself, “I want that.”
Now, I’ve heard the BSR can be a little crazy. There are 25K runners there, and Broad Street isn’t all *that* broad. I still wanted it.
This year they announced that because of overwhelming demand, registration would be by lottery. I’m never usually one for games of chance, but I didn’t hesitate with this one. I wanted in like I wanted my next breath.
Selected runners would be notified on the 18th. It being the day after my birthday, I figured I stood a good chance. A late birthday present, right? Except I had so much fun on Sunday that I forgot about the notifications. I got up on Monday morning, checked my email, and immediately thought someone had gotten into my credit card (again). Who the heck is this Marathon.com, and why are they sending me a receipt for…
Oh. My. God. I’m in. (Who needs coffee when that’s how you start your day?)
So now I’m training, hard. Yesterday I planned on 3 miles but ran 4, just because it felt so good. I did “quarters” (changing the speed every quarter mile), but instead of dipping down to 4 mph, I kept hitting the “up” button on the speed. My goal for the Phillies 5k, next month, is a 10 minute mile. That was my goal last year, before I had any idea how hard it is to run a 10 minute mile when you’ve never run a race before. I still finished with a (then) PR, and have done successively better since. Can I average a 10 minute mile in a 10 mile race? <gasp> We shall see.
I had to share this article I found during the week. Clearly it proves that I’m a double junkie, since I’m addicted to both knitting/crocheting/yarn play *and* running. Hey, I’m no dummy.
I read a blog post the other day having to do with support systems for writers. It got me thinking, because I had a lousy one. It was nice to know I wasn’t alone, and yet it just plain sucks that people can’t back each other up. Usually it’s for selfish reasons, too. Jane wants to write the Great American Novel, but Joe realizes that if Jane is at the computer two hours a day, that’s two hours a day she won’t be spending with him. Never mind that his idea of “spending time together” means sitting in front of the television, watching baseball while she knits and semi-watches too. Productive? If you want a sweater, sure, but if you want a novel written, no.
A writer I follow on Facebook asked about The Biggest Loser yesterday, too. It hit a nerve for me because of 80-something responses, most were, “Oh, I hate that show. The trainers are too hard. The workouts aren’t realistic. These people should be spending time with their families instead.”
I call bullshit to all that. First of all, the trainers have to be hard. No one’s kicked these people’s asses over however long it took for them to gain the weight, and someone has to. Coddling doesn’t get the work done.
Yes, the workouts aren’t realistic. Call it “reality TV” if you want but this is television, people. These folks are taking a time out in their lives to correct something that went wrong over an extended period of time. The fantasy of it is that they CAN spend eight hours a day working out and learning to eat right. (Notice, if you watch the show, that they’re also learning to deal with the internal reasons why they gained the weight. That’s major.) Yes, no regular person with a normal family and work schedule can take off eight hours a day and spend it at the gym unless they change careers and become personal trainers. I take an hour a day to hit the gym. It’s what I can manage, my life goes on otherwise, and most everyone around me isn’t inconvenienced by it.
As for spending more time with the family? Does sitting on the couch, watching mindless television count? It shouldn’t. If I go to the gym and lose the weight, I’m healthier. I might live longer, so I *can* spend more time with my family. We can do things together that don’t involve trying to push me off the couch because without human assistance, I need a crane to do it. Sure, it means I’m away from them for an hour a day plus travel time. They seem to manage. I’m not indispensable (though, being a mom, I’m damn close). I raised the boys so that they can take care of themselves for extended periods of time, and if I want to run 10 miles intead of 5, they’re not going to wither and die without me. More than that, I’m giving them an example they can emulate: a parent who puts time and effort into bettering herself, keeping healthy, and staying active. I’d much rather they copy that than a couch potato who’s available 24/7 with a bag of chips in each hand. To suggest I should spend that hour with the boys instead of on myself is just making excuses for being lazy, dammit.
That kind of time investment requires a support system. I want better for the boys than I had for myself, so I’ll be there to encourage them in whatever they choose to do. Even if I know it’s destined for failure. Even if I know that, should they achieve their goal, the struggle will be damn near impossible and even once they achieve it, it won’t result in a lifetime of ease and leisure. I only want them to do what makes them the happiest people they can be.
It’s kind of sad that I didn’t have that kind of backup when I said I wanted to write. Instead I had someone around me who saw my gain as his loss. That’s a selfish view, if you ask me. The whole point of parntership is to support the other person, not because you benefit but because when you see them benefit, it makes you feel good. As Dr. Phil said, “A relationship works insofar as it meets the needs of the two people involved.” If you’re happy at the other person’s expense, something’s not working here, people.
Now get your butt off that chair and run a lap!
I’m fighting my fourth cold in three months. I’m not sure if, once this is over, I should be bulletproof or resemble Gollum. (I really never should’ve watched LOTR. Now I compare everything to “the preshussssssss…”)
Been talking to a friend about the starting over process. I’ve been on my own for 13 months and counting; she hasn’t been on a date in 3 years. If she’d said that to me last year, I would’ve recoiled in horror. Now, it doesn’t seem so bad. Sure, there are lonely nights. There are moments when I think it’d be fun to have someone to share all my awesomeness with, who’d want to share his awesomeness with me. (Because let’s face it, after what I’ve been through, only relatively equal awesomeness need apply.) But by the end of the day, I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Each day is a little victory. I didn’t collapse. I didn’t crumble under pressure. I suppose that’s because the real pressure is yet to make an appearance; we shall see. But I can go to bed and not cry because I’m alone. Once the bed gets nice and warm, I could care less if the New England Patriots D-line were there with me.
Of course, I’d kick ‘em all off the bed because I’m a Buffalo Bills fan. But overall, it’s not so bad. Things do work out the way they’re supposed to. We’re all part of the Great Circle of Life.
I’m signed up for two races so far, and I’m counting the minutes ’til registration for the Broad Street Run and the Color Run. From there, the opportunities are endless.
Oh, and I’m still finishing what I start, knitting-wise. I have wool mittens waiting for the next cold snap, which should be here in 5…4…3…2… (yeah, something like that). I’m starting another pair, though I’m thinking of making them into fingerless mitts. I loved the mitten pattern but if I adapt it, I can wear it indoors, which would be more often, because my hands are almost always cold. I’m never quite sure if Laziness or Ingenuity is the mother of Invention. Luckily, they both knew how to knit.
I’m angry. I’m tired of the bullspit my life has been for the last 13 months. I’m scared to death to make the changes I have to make, but SOMEONE has to make them. I can’t keep waiting like this. It’s killing me a little every day.
I know life doesn’t come with guarantees, but this is one crazy-ass leap of faith I have to take, and it scares the crap out of me. I could easily go along as things are now, fat and happy (well, not that fat; remind me to post the Before and Middle pictures of my weight loss progress), one day the same as the one before it and identical to the one to come. That’d be great.
If I were happy. I’m not. That’s why I can’t settle.
I credit this change in mindset to the progress I’ve made in therapy. The problem with progress is, you can’t go back to the way things were. Well, you can if you *want* to gain the weight back, but I don’t want that back either.
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In other news, craft-wise it seems I have chronic finish-itis. Over the weekend I finished four projects, one of whom has been in UFO status (UnFinished Object) for at least a year if not longer. I may have started it before we moved into the house. I was rearranging some things when I saw this pretty afghan. I needed one for the bed, for those days when I just want to curl up and get warm and take a nap, and this seemed about right. Problem was, it wasn’t quite long enough, and it had a loose end. (“Long enough”, translated: would fit Alex’s 6’3″ body from head to toe.) Over the weekend I found some yarn to add to it, put on another foot of length, and now it’s finished and sitting on the bed, waiting for me to have
one of those days a free afternoon. I also finished two pairs of fingerless mitts and a scrap afghan I started when the furnace died after Hurricane Sandy. Now I’ m working on something I started last year, a Wingspan wrap that’s been idle since the spring.
I’m more interested in finishing old projects than starting anything new. This is weird. This is not me. I wonder if it’s related to what’s going on in the section above this one, but I really like having less unfinished stuff hanging over my head. It’s calming. From the inside.
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I registered for the Runner’s World Half Marathon again. While I realize this means I have to give up Rhinebeck, it’s a price I’m willing to pay. Last year I wasn’t prepared enough for the half, and my time reflected it. This year I want to do better, so I’m making plans to go to the workshops, watch the 5K and 10K, indulge in the pre-race carb-load dinner, talk to people and immerse myself in the
sport joy of running. That night I’m going to get a good night’s sleep (something I definitely didn’t do last year, but half because I was too excited from Rhinebeck to sleep, and half because I was scared to death of how I’d do in the race), possibly in a hotel so I don’t have to drive 90 minutes to get there, and I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it this time. I’ve seen the pictures of me at last year’s Half. I was looking down. I didn’t make eye contact. My plan was to get in, do my best, and finish. I loved it, but I’m not sure I enjoyed it as much as I could have. This time I want to high-five the bystanders, smile at the cameras, and boogie along with whatever’s on my iPod. And come in under 2:30 with a gigantic smile on my face.
The race is October 20th. I’ll be ready. I just wonder how different my life will be by then. Hopefully for the better.
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Oh yeah; the pictures.