Just like riding a bike?

You know when people say, "It's just like riding a bike?"

What is meant by this, I'm given to understand, is that once you know how to ride, you never NOT know how to ride again. The metaphor is about the kind of thing that once learned never leaves you - it stays in your neural pathways, muscle memory, etc.

There are things that fall into this category for me. I can make the base of a soup in my sleep, and driving is something I do outside of conscious thought. It comes to me reactively and kinisthetically, though of course it wasn't always this way. I also suspect that I will never not be able to swim - it is so central to who I am and I've been doing it for nearly 33 years.

Here's the thing about making soup, swimming, and driving though: they all have in common that they do not require balancing on two wheels, while propelling yourself down a road with other traffic, in the open air.

This is to say . . . that metaphor about riding a bike? It only works for those of us who LEARNED to ride a bike. Apparently, riding a tricycle at age 4 doesn't count. So, yes, I never learned. There was a brief moment where I rode a friend's bike, and there was a pink Schwinn in the garage that I rode down the street ONCE, but I almost instantly crashed it and then when trying to "get back up on the horse" I immediately almost ran into a moving car so . . . that was the end of that.

At a certain point, though, I just feel silly living in Boulder, practically bike-central of the universe (life on Mars notwithstanding. We have no idea what Curiosity will find after all), and the only man, woman, or child (kids here start biking by like 2 and 3 years old. I'm not being hyperbolic) not bike-ready. I imagine this is what my brave and gloriously beautiful friend felt like when she was thinking about learning to swim. It's daunting to think about making yourself do something you don't trust you can do, but at the same time, not being able to do it ends up meaning you have fewer options and are sometimes left out or find yourself self-excluding from things.

There is a club I'm left out of here: people commute, recreate, and just generally socialize and hang out on bikes. All. The. Time.

I just did my fourth year volunteering with Venus de Miles, an all women's ride. Every year I think, "That lady just rode SIXTY-SEVEN MILES. And I don't even know how to ride across this parking lot. "

Can't is a hard word.

It's all well and good for me to know who and what I am and what I like. I like swimming. I love reading and writing and music. I prefer chai to coffee. I could eat sushi and Indian every day of the week but meat with bones is a tricky proposition for me. I adore the soothing feeling of cooking and handling food. I like entertainment that makes me think or that is so lushly, over-the-top artistic that it engages that side of my brain. But knowing this doesn't stop me from watching Will Ferrel and Zach Galifianakis clobber each other in The Campaign, or going out to eat instead of cooking, or learning photography rather than capturing the world in words.

There are things that my circumstances and life prevent me from doing. I will likely not sprout wings and learn to fly. I can't get pregnant and grow people from scratch. I can't decide when I will get a job. I can't be as tall as the rest of my family. I CAN eat dried apricots, but I can't do so and hope to not suffer the allergic reaction to the preservatives. But signing on the dotted line for more things I can't do feels like putting up fences and walls in my life.

Even if they're there for good reasons, don't fences dare you to see what's on the other side?

It was on this theory that I capriciously joined a martial arts school 12 years ago and earned my black belt 6 years later. Do I have natural talent for karate? Absolutely not. But, after taking two classes for free, the idea that I would walk away from a good workout, a chance to be social, the opportunity to push myself, and a valuable life skill (discipline, character building, determination, and the ability to defend myself? Yes, please.) just because it was new/scary/hard seemed ridiculous. I had seen over the fence and needed to make the climb to get to the other side.

I was fortunate to have been pushed a lot as a younger child. I learned to read music and play an instrument (thought, not well). I was swimming on my own by age 3 and I was reading chapter books on my own very early. All that independence is a blessing and curse as an adult. I have decades of doing a very long list of things BY MYSELF. Musings on how well that has prepared me to accept help and support aside (ahem. Let's be clear: I stink at accepting help and support) there are other issues with all of this competence and independence. Bad news: I have years upon years of walking this earth never really knowing the feeling of being out of my depth; so, it's easy to think I should just keep going on the track of do-things-you-are-good-at. Good news: I know enough about adult learning to have considered in my career of training other people that adults need to be uncomfortable to learn. I once said to someone who asked me if I preferred teaching little, little ones vs. college students vs. adults, "with young kids you must always consider that you are not just working with them, but also their parents. So that is adult learning. And with adult learning you are always overcoming objections whether it's parents or formal training environments. " This is to say, I know enough to at least try and recognize my own objections and tackle them.

I don't want them to weigh me down as I try to push past the fences, so as much as it's easy and comfortable for me to walk around keeping to the things I'm already good and competent at, I know that I was as scared as everyone is when I had my first swimming lesson at age 2. And I know I felt WAY over my head when I took my first (and second and third and fourth . . . ) karate class, I was so scared to leave the The Happy Valley and a place where I knew everyone and everyone knew me when I went to grad school. But . . . what if I had let those become limitations to doing those things? If I had never let go of the wall in that first swimming pool, I would have to erase all of the miles I have pulled out of the water and all of the days where it was the place I felt the most peace and quiet and the irreplaceable feeling of being held up by something bigger than me. If I had never taken that karate class, if I had never gone back for another, not only would I have continued to be afraid and certain that if someone wanted to hurt me, I would just have to accept that it was going to happen. Not only would I have not found out the beautiful things my body can do (with more coaxing than most, to be sure, but it can do those things despite the complete dearth of grace in my limbs), but I would have missed out on the chance to turn my Jersey home into a place where, indeed, everyone knew me and I knew everyone. I would never have found my "Jewish Family." If I had never left Amherst and gone to grad school, I would have missed out on so many important people and thoughts and experiences and BEER, and I might have been lead to some other place in the world aside from my now-beloved Colorado.

I have said many times that as much as the level of responsibility and accountability I was required to take on probably too early in life has been difficult, it also means I really left home and embarked on a pattern of turning my new places and people into new homes and new families. This means I hav so many amazing loved ones that I share no blood with. I sometimes wish my early life was easier, but if that meant I had to somehow cosmically GIVE BACK those people I wouldn't do it.

This is the same - if erasing the scary and hard learning moments in my life meant I also had to give back the sense of accomplishment in getting my black belt, if it meant I had to not be a born-and-bread swimmer, if it meant I hadn't come to Colorado, well, I wouldn't do it.

The universe has been sending me messages lately, and so I have decided to listen. I was connected to a bike shop for awhile, and had many conversations with the mechanics there about bikes and how to learn to ride. My person became increasingly enthusiastic about biking and embarked on purchasing an upgraded bike and I found myself visiting many bike shops in this town as he looked at his options and seeing a couple of bikes that looked almost Christie-sized. And my friend, who once believed she couldn't swim and then set about to prove herself wrong said, "If you ever want to learn how to ride, you know where I am."

Riiiing, ring. Clue phone for you, Christie-bell. Time to BIKE.

I once ignored three messages from the universe. In the same day I saw the worst car accident I have ever seen. I mean, the car didn't even look like a car and there was visible human carnage. Then my locks froze not allowing me to get into my car. And finally, I was routed around the entrance to the highway I normally used when driving from Connecticut to Jersey. That night I was in a hit and run accident, in a blizzard, waited over an hour for anyone to help me, car totaled, and my neck and ankle were broken. I'm not in the habit of ignoring overwhelming messages from the universe anymore. So, when the universe kept on serving up BIKE to me, I got the message and accepted some help and support in getting it and learning to ride it.

As soon as the decision was made, but before the bike had been located and purchased I told my friend of the learning-to-swim fame and she said, "I knew it! I was just thinking how last year was year-of-the-hike for me, and how this year was year-of-the-bike. And so, if this year is year-of-the-hike for you, then next year will be biking for you!" Smile.

The real story here is, she LEFT her job and in the interim, as she was job hunting, she hiked all over Boulder County and now knows every trail. The trails and mountains are part of her story in re-centering her life around a healthier and happier job and work-life balance. She remembers trails not just as sights she saw, but feelings and prayers that she processed while out on them.

Not because I was intending to emulate her (although, if I wanted a role-model in physical and mental health, I could scarcely pick a better one), but because I was walking a dog in March and it suddenly got very temperate and mild this spring, the gym stopped calling to me, and the idea of, "I could use hiking as my cardio and be outside, thinking, seeing more of this gorgeous place I lived in," took root.

As I have hiked my way through the spring and summer (excepting almost all of July when it was too hot to bear. I now think of trails as particular thoughts and feelings I was trying to sort out too. And part of what has come to me is that this whole thing of not finding a job right away, needing to define my worth in ways beyond a paycheck and job title, getting very healthy and confident on the inside without leaning on traditional definitions of success, rooting out judgement and self-deprecation,and having to really be clear about what will and won't be good for me in terms of a job is "just like riding a bike." 
The metaphor for me isn't about learning something once and then never forgetting it, but about taking on the task of learning something even though and BECAUSE it is hard and scary but will lead to a lot more happiness and a lot fewer limitations. I need to learn to be ok with me, regardless of being ensconced in a career. Clinging to my paycheck and job title has gotten me into trouble in the past and created unhealthy expectations and balance, or a complete lack thereof. (Working over 80 hours a week seems so far away now, but man, I did that. Ugh.) When we get into the habit of putting wails around what we can and can't do, it becomes routine to not consider that there are other options. When I first mentioned to my friend that I could teach her to swim her instantaneous reactions was, "No." (I suspect what was in her head was actually closer to, "No friggin way am I getting in the scary-ass water only to nearly drown AND look foolish. Ahhhh!") But a couple of months later she was in the pool and making it from one wall to the other. There's always the option to look at something that is challenging and frightening and say, "I haven't learned to do that YET." My friends who are as enamored with The West Wing as I am will know this quote:

Dolores Landingham: You don't know how to use the intercom. 
President Josiah Bartlet: It's not that I don't know how to use it. It's just that I haven't learned yet. 



Even non-West Wingers will appreciate this clip. We could all stand to look at the things we don't do, haven't learned, or are unaccustomed to as things we COULD do if we had a chance to "get to it," - me most of all, as I tend to get stuck in my ways. I have nothing but space and opportunity to unstick and  get around to things now. I can learn to use the intercom, and to be alright with me with or without the job I want. And the story that I have to tell about this year isn't,"I looked for a job for X months and didn't find one," but rather, "Here's how I used this time to my advantage."

• I hiked all over Boulder and beyond
• I have consulted with two small businesses
• I have networked with the the Boulder Chamber, and several other local businesses
• I home-schooled a student to prepare him for 5th grade
• I have been able to be the kind of friend I want to be
• I cooked healthy food every week
• I swam many miles
• I started taking guitar lessons
• I volunteered extensively for the worthiest cause I can think of
• I learned how to ride a bike

And perhaps the most important thing is that, in doing all of these things, I now have a vision in my head of what I want for my work, my relationship, and my life in the future. (You know, creativity, spirituality, family, health,  opportunities, my values of contributing to the greater good and giving back, all those things.) And I believe I deserve it now.

I got on that bike about 2 hours after it was purchased. Yes, I rode on the grass. And yes, it was scary. But scary has a way of waking us up and I was thrilled by it. I ended up riding it a block home, rather than putting it back in my person's car. Wobbly, not very fast, and still struggling with steering. The next morning, first thing, 6am, back up on the bike to practice stopping and turning (which all really fall under the header of balance).

So, last night, after some conversation where I expressed that I want learning to ride to be hard enough to be interesting but not so over my head that I feel like I can't amass any successes at all, we rode a short trail. It. WAS. AWESOME.

It's wee but Christie-sized

(this is JUST after my first "real ride.")


To be clear, I am not awesome (YET) but for my second day of riding, to be out on a real trail, turning, trying to power through hills and soft sand (not my most successful moments, let me tell you) and steering fast through some curves and downhills, WOW. What have I been missing all these years?

So, just like learning to ride a bike, it's important to appreciate, as John Mayer sings, that "fear is a friend that you misunderstood." My therapist once said that when I'm feeling distressed, upset, anxious, triggered it is worth noting that it is almost always because growth and positive change are upon me. Those moments are my opportunity to live up to my value of being a life-long learner and to push myself to take down the walls and see a new view. And let me tell you, the view of things going by from a bike is pretty sweet.

Zombie Survival Plan

About three weeks ago the wind was howling for days on end. 30 miles an hour all day long with gusts at 75 and above. It was intense and it interrupted my sleep. I had about three nights of really disturbing dreams, and one of them was right before an interview.

I had gotten an email asking me for that interview, and since my application had been as a response to Craigslist, the email didn't help me with the problem I had when I applied . . . which was that I didn't know very much about what this job would actually have me do. The email asked if I could meet that Friday at 11, and gave me an address, that was all. Somehow the combination of unnerving winds, sleep deprivation, anxiety, and unknowns combined and formed in my brain as a really horrible dream.

I dreamt that I showed up in an office park for this interview, and the building I was in had a long side hallway. It was dim, and there were no doors along the way. I walked down the hallway, entered the office, and the reception area was normal, normal, normal. I waited in a chair, and as the receptionist took me back, I was pushed into a dark room, chained to a metal frame on the wall, and locked up for over two days. There were other women there, most drugged or beaten. We were sold for . . . . well, you get the picture.

I was freaked out enough by this that when I went for the interview, I texted the address to a friend and picked a check-in time to text again. I joked about this on Facebook, but I was actually pretty upset.

A friend was joking with me the next day, and I was telling her about the actual interview, and how when I had to go down a long empty hallway, I actually almost reconsidered, and when their reception area was completely dark, I almost left. She joked, "You were thinking there were zombies in there." And quick as anything I retorted, "No! If it was zombies, I would know what to do!" You see, I have a zombie survival plan, but not a terrible-people-selling-woman-flesh plan.

So, you know, clearly, there were neither zombies nor disgusting pimps at that interview. But, in honor of my favorite show coming back tonight with the mid-season premiere, I want to talk about zombies. (I mean, let's be honest, I always enjoy talking about zombies. But since it has little to do with my quest to balance my life and make it more meaningful, I restrain myself here as much as possible. Other occasions in my life . . . maybe not so much restraint.)

So, here is the deal, while I don't believe in zombies, I do heart them deeply. And I have thought a LOT about zombie apocalypse preparedness. Luckily, a lot of the basics apply to being ready in case of other emergencies.

So, now for your reading pleasure, I will discuss my zombie survival plans.

If zombies attacked me in my home, well, I have two sliding glass doors and a window at garden level. So, I would pick something up and start swinging, close and lock a door behind me, and get out. There is no making a stand in this condo. If I had been in that office, same idea. Pick up a chair, start swinging. Aim for the head, and try not to get backed into a wall or room with no door. And then run.

But, the thing about running is, no matter how great your cardio endurance is, you will not be able to do it forever. So, in my mind, it's important to run smart, not just fast. You don't want to run into any dead ends or enclosed spaces. Nowhere dark if you can avoid it. And you want to aim for somewhere that will allow you to rest/close out the zombie pursuers for a bit or somewhere that will allow you a more permanent safety. Like the horror movie rules put forth in SCREAM, it is also wise to not run up anything you can't get down off of. Zombies used to be people, and people can climb stairs, and in some cases, trees. Run out and DOWN whenever possible

Now, most people who survive the initial wave do it out of luck and quick reflexes. Being in the right place at the right time, or accidentally figuring out how to stop a zombie that comes after you (go for the head!) will keep you alive on the first day, maybe the second. But the key to the third day and beyond is to start stockpiling necessities.

My list includes building a plan that allows me and whomever I'm with to have more of some important stuff:

• Water - need a source, and a plan to purify it
• Food - standard stuff applies here. Lots of protein, and stuff that keeps well. Canned goods are great, but hard to carry if you're hiking. Protein bars, protein powder, and jerky seem like the right call, however unappealing.
• Medications and someone who has some medical knowledge (EMT, nurse, doctor. More on that in a minute).
• Shelter
• Weapons (More on that in a minute too)
• Transportation
• People
  

Yes, that's right, people. The thing is, without other people, I'd be a goner. I'm not that fast, I don't know how to shoot a gun, and I have health issues. But even if those things weren't true, surviving an apocalypse depends on people working together. Anyone on their own can't sleep, whereas groups can set up shifts and protect one another. That is a BIG deal not just in terms of safety while sleeping/vulnerable, but also in that sleep deprivation will impact long term health, and can impair judgement in the short term. And, with more people, you are likely to bring together different skill sets than your own. My guess is that a camp of people trying to survive don't need my experience as a business consultant or writer, but I'm a fast learner, know basic first aid, and they would benefit from my cooking, and my ability to find answers and organize. Meanwhile, one hopes that there would be someone who knew more about weapons than me.

If we're to believe Hollywood, what I can expect is a magically blended group of lots of different ethnic backgrounds and skills. My requests are for one person who knows electronics, one person who know weapons and can train others, someone who has medical knowledge, and someone who knows something about food and agriculture or finding food in the wild (I have a friend who knows all about edible wild plants - she would be welcome in my group!). So, having more people isn't just about safety in numbers, it's about gaining different skills in those numbers. I'm accepting applications now . . . you know, just in case.

A special word about children: of course, with no kids, it doesn't matter if my group survives, or even another group. Humans would die out eventually. So, kids are necessary. But let's be honest, they're also risky. (In the race to stay alive, kids slow us all down. Brutal, but factual) The nature of children is that they have to push the envelope while growing up in order to become adults. That often involves impulsive, loud, messy, high-profile behavior. Which of course is dangerous when trying to protect an encampment or run for your lives. So, I think kids have to be handled very carefully. And honestly, that means there have to be enough people to help handle them. And a stable location if at all possible. Good lord, I just hope that no one with a toddler hooks up with my camp despite the fact that I love toddlers.

See how people are the most valuable resource in case of surviving a zombie apocalypse? A group of about 10-20 is ideal if actively running and not hunkered down somewhere stable. If somewhere stable, it's all about what your facility and supplies can handle without being stretched too thin. But, of course, if the group gets too large, some kind of hierarchy or decision making structure has to be put in place. Lord of the Flies plus zombie apocalypse is a baaaaaaaaaaaad plan.

Now, in an urban environment, you want to look for a building that has access to other things you need such as food and water, but at the same time, it can't be something too big to hold down. For instance, I would NOT recommend a hospital - it's too big to secure. Too many places where zombies could work their way in unbeknownst until it was too late. I have the same worry about department stores or malls, plus the big plate glass windows in those places too. I can see reinforcing a Target with a group big enough. Plus, then you have the air mattresses and granola bars right there, some basic first aid supplies, not to mention the built in Starbucks with the espresso machine (ahhhh). The other big concern in this situation is that nowhere, not even a Target or Walmart, will have everything you need for all time. So you need to have a plan to be able to get in and out very stealthily without being chased, or caught.  Here's the trick with that Target-type place. I and my zombie-surviving peeps  could decide, "Yes! That store is perfect!" but if you get there, and there are hordes of undead wandering around, and it will be noisy to get by them . . . it's not perfect. In an urban setting, you can bet that if there's a crowd of 50-100 zombies around your spot, there are hundreds more just a couple of blocks away that WILL make their way to you once they hear the scuffle or the shots fired. Move on to plan B, quickly and quietly.

In a more open or rural environment, the choices are a little more complex. I've heard arguments for mountain tops, valleys with water sources, small towns. I'm willing to be persuaded on most of those. I'm not a fan of the mountain top option, because it would be easy to get surprised by a tenacious horde that made the trek and happened to come upon you on the part of the mountain that sealed off your route. I have been convinced that a free-standing building that has a generator, some guns, and the ability to be secured could work. I'm also a fan of the secluded farm or ranch, as long as there are enough people to stand watch in shifts. I am NOT psyched about the idea of camping out doors . . . too vulnerable.

Transportation depends a lot on setting, but suffice it to say you need at least one form of transportation that is very maneuverable on different terrains and can weave in and out of things - motorcycles and horses come to mind. But this should not be the primary form of transportation for the group, since their strength of being smaller and more movable is also their weakness in that in the wrong situation, that lightness could easily be preyed upon and taken down . . . literally. So, you also need something big and tough - giant redneck trucks and tanks come to mind.

Now, here's the deal. Once shelter and a group of people to secure it and keep it supplied and secured are in place, then it's time to think of other things. Weapons are everyone's priority, and I see it as an important piece. But, for me, as long as a range of weapons (guns, yes, but something quieter too . . . guns with silencers? Cross bows? Axes? Throwing knives? I'm not entirely sure yet. ) and a cache of ammo is socked in, I'm good.

My primary concern is that after a group of people is assembled and has survived a week or more, then the issues become not just the zombie-problems, but the people-problems. This is to say, survival in an apocalypse is about more than not getting eaten; it becomes a lot about how civilization's answers to our problems may or may not exist anymore to be taken for granted. Routine surgeries and health issues quickly become life threatening. That appendicitis could kill you. That asthma attack could take you down. So for me, medicines and medical knowledge are paramount. Included in that is the dire need for birth control. Somehow, when trying to survive and make sure life is still being lived, people seem to like to . . . ahem . . .  get it on. Lets be honest, we need kids to grow up in this apocalyptic imagining, but nobody needs to be pregnant while running for their life. By the second trimester, that's just like a two-fer for the zombie that catches up to her.

There are other things too, though. Like, taking for granted the things that technology provides. Hence, someone with a background in electronics, technology, and/or mechanics is most welcome on my zombie team. I need someone to help me re-start a generator, hot-wire a car, fix a radiator, or get the radio working.

So, my hope is that if I could fight my way out of the aforementioned office or home invasion, and meet up with the right people, I could learn to shoot, make a fire, find food, or at least cook the food that was found, siphon gas, and expand my basic first aid to include giving stitches if not removing diseased appendixes. Let me know if you'd like to join me in case of apocalypse.

Writers Block

I am experiencing some liabilities of being a job searcher.

One of these is what I mentioned in the last post - tooooo muuuucccchhh screen time.

Another is that if I'm home, my inclination is to wear one of two pairs of pajama pants all the time, my renovated Family Kickboxing Academy sweatshirt (by renovated, of course I mean, stretched out, hood and cuffs cut off), no bra, and two pairs of socks. Because of this, I made a rule that if I'm home it's allowed to skip washing my hair (before you judge me as being icky know that Colorado is really dry and it's healthy to not shampoo my hair every day). However, I have to still shower, and change clothes. A bra is strongly suggested, though not required.

I also have to plan my meals very carefully. This was true before, and has to be true now. Before, I had to plan my eating so I could pack it up and take it with me so that I wouldn't go off the rails while on the road for 6-12 hours at a stretch. Now, I'm home for 6-12 hours at a stretch (how novel!!), and it would be so, so, so easy to just graze all day. This is also my first opportunity in YEARS to eat dinner before 9pm and to eat lunch sitting down. I want to use this as a chance to eat healthy and cook and eat meals at regular times. (Cooking also soothes me . . . and gives me a chance to dance in my kitchen. And not to toot my own horn, but both my trainer and dietician say they wish I could cook for them every week - healthy and yummy) Coincidentally, this also helps me stick to a budget.

Another effect of being home is I have to dodge the Jehova's Witnesses. They caught me here one day early in my journey of the unemployed. I looked through the thing on my door and only saw ONE person (If I had seen two I would have known what was on my doorstep). I had been getting lots of Fed Ex and UPS deliveries from my former employer so I foolishly opened the door. Baaaaaad move. Instantly I knew I had stepped in it. My house was dark, I was wearing, yes indeed, the sweatshirt, my PJ pants, and it was 10:30 in the morning and I hadn't showered. They asked apologetically if they had woken me and I was very brazen when I said, "No," as in, Yeah, that's right, this is what I look like mid-morning on a workday. Take it or leave it. (In case you're wondering, this was the beginning of my rules about showering and changing clothes.) We had a pleasant conversation for about 6 minutes, until they asked me if I thought God's government would take place here on earth during our lifetime. And I said something about how separation of church state allowed her and her friend to openly discuss their beliefs and that seemed pretty good to me so I would choose this government over any other right now. Then they left pretty quickly. But not before marking something down on their clip board and leaving me a booklet about God's Plan for justice and mercy. All of that would be fine except they now come back every week. No joke. I've come home twice to leaflets, and been here twice more when they've knocked . . . and I've wussed out and not answered. (I know, it's bad)

But the final liability is that between all of the screen time, and having to write cover letter after cover letter after cover letter, I'm losing a little of the zest for this blog. I actually have, no joke, 4 posts half written and am struggling to finish. I want to write. I have actually seen a big increase in my creativity in terms of conceiving of topics, but a real decrease in implementing them. I'll be in the shower or on the treadmill thinking of posts and how I could put them together. Where it used to just take the thought of a topic, and one or two lines or quotes and I'd be off and running to write something (I actually often would sit down and write a post in 45 minutes or less) now I have tons of ideas blocked out, with quotes, and I sit down for an hour and get less than half of a post done. I have writer's block! I'm spending all of this time selling myself, marketing ME, writing about ME in another forum and  frankly, I feel kind of narcissistic and overwhelmed when I try to write about me here. At least this week.

This blog has been so instrumental in my progress to be a better me up to this point, so I don't want to walk away from it. I'm battling through this by continuing to collect my ideas and trying to battle through the block.

Before this post begins to sound too complainy, let me also acknowledge that there have been some amazing positives to being unemployed.

First, I no longer am working a job that sucks the joy out of my life or implicitly expects me to not have a life.

I also am really moving towards a couple of jobs that would make me happy. My girl and I were talking last night about how I'm completely open right now. It's a chance for a total renovation. I'm not chained to a job that holds me back or asks too much, and I'm free and open in my personal life too. No vestiges of relationship remain between me and my ex, and so, I can care about him and still be done. I'm walking into a new life with no unhealthy attachments. I get to do it all at once and imagine all new things for myself. It's scary, but exciting and promising too.

Unemployment is good for other things too. My laundry is done. And folded! And put away! (I never keep up with laundry, or sorting the mail. It seems like as soon as I tackle these projects and chores it starts all over again. I mused once on Facebook that I had done laundry on Sunday. Let it sit in the dryer on Monday. Moved it to a chair on Tuesday to remind myself to fold it. Then on Wednesday moved it to my bed . . . and slept on the couch as a result. I wondered, "Will I reach shame level 10 and put the laundry on my front stoop?!" I did not by the way, but it didn't get folded until Thursday or put away until Friday, and of course I had to turn around and do laundry again on Sunday). I'm still bad about staying on top of some house work - unemployment won't make me suddenly enjoy scrubbing the shower or make taking the recycling out a priority, but, I'm more on top of these things than before.

I am doing 3 hours of resistance every week, and 4-6 hours of cardio on top of that. Last week, I did 5 hours of cardio, including a 2 hour swim. It was glorious and I am not being sarcastic about that in any way. I am eating regular meals, and very, very healthy. I've seen more of my friends in the last month than I had in the 6 months before. I got to drive up and surprise my friend who was studying while her husband and son were camping with a smoothie and study date. It was awesome to make her face light up! She said, "Oh! What brought this on," and I explained that I knew she was alone and could use some support, and that I also know that my job wasn't allowing me to be there for my friends the way I wanted to and I now have the opportunity to be there more. I hope all of this is a precursor to a healthier life where I have more time for my life outside of work, even when I do (hopefully soon!) go  back to work. This means I actually have time to date and to be out there, even though it's kind of a weird juncture in my life.

So, I'm hoping that as I start to put together the pieces of my life and to assemble them in a way that works better for me, the energy will come back to this blog. Until then, please bare with me if the posts aren't as energetic or frequent - I'm working on it!

ATM Fraud

That's right. Today, I planned to divide my time very carefully into quarters with one-fourth devoted to submitting applications, one fourth to finishing up my self-training on MS Project 2010, one fourth to my interview and interview prep, and the remaining quarter to pounding out a run on a treadmill or roadside. (Cardio has ceased to be something I purely loath. I still don't like it. That may never change. But, I'm getting better at it, and that helps. Also, I am in a co-dependent relationship with it right now. Cardio needs me to get it done, so I can lose weight and look my trainer and cardio partner in the eye. I need it to help my brain from feeling like it could explode from the effort of staying positive in the face of all this uncertainty. So, we'll stick a pin in that and write another of my many posts about cardio another day.) That was my plan. And y'all know how much I like a plan.

Well, last night, while I was pounding out some cardio, and smashing my weight lifting workout in fact, apparently my ATM number was in Yuma. And this morning while I was sleeping (biding my time until I could call the fraud line at my bank) that same card was turned down in Austin to buy gas. Weeeeeee!

I've been the victim of fraud and identity theft before. And my experience getting that dealt with (once the conveniently placed long weekend in which I watched weird check amounts being cashed and wandering out of my account helplessly was over) was pretty good. The money I needed to buy my books and pay my insurance and rent was back in 5 days, and I had a new account set up pronto. I had three days of watching money walk away, and practicing deep breathing. They caught those people and uncovered their scam (pretty elaborate, as it turned out, but not very well executed) and I had the opportunity to write something about my experience as the "victim" (HATE that word) of this crime maybe a year later. I had food in the house, so while I couldn't go out with my friends that weekend, and had some stress since I was a poor graduate student at the end of a long month of no paycheck, I wasn't going hungry. And ultimately damage repaired.

So, when I saw money being spent a couple of states away I assumed that if fraud had gotten more tricksy, that fraud response had improved as well. And I was right! My card was shut down last night, which means THEIR copycat card was shut down too. Sorry, guys, no gas for you in Austin. And this morning, I called the number, got my instructions and an order for a new card placed. But, I also had to go to my branch and get a temporary card. Of course, it can't do everything a real one can, alas. But I can buy groceries until the new one comes, and my account is safe. Whew.

Day briefly derailed, money safe and plenty of time for me to go about getting ready for my interview.

What does this have to do with anything, right? We all go through this unless we live like conspiracy theorists. I mean, that's sadly probably true. I got some scary statistics from talking to the bank. In 2009 nearly 5% of the population had to deal with this, and spend, on average, 21 hours and $300 plus dollars resolving the crime. That was 2009! I would be eye-balls-popping shocked if those numbers hadn't gone up in the last 2 years. Lightening struck twice for me, so I asked my new banker friend if there was any way to find out how this happened. Since I know where my card is at all times, and have the right protections on my account, it mystified me. He told me that since my data wasn't leaked anywhere that placed me on a known-concerns list, this was probably a completely unpreventable occurrence. My card was probably picked up by a scanner when I bought gas or used an ATM last weekend. No way to know it. Am I supposed to stop using my ATM card? Suspiciously interrogate everyone who gets me a latte or beer? No.

What I've been thinking about for the last day is that even as recently as  a year ago, this issue would have enraged me. And not having a person to be angry at specifically and feeling helpless would have lead me to turn this fury on the world. I would've and been pissy with everyone from the desk clerk at my gym, to my friends, just because I allowed it to permeate my world for several days. I'm not someone who will tell you that anger is a completely "useless emotion." I think there is healthy anger. I think there are cases where anger can spur people on and lead to determination, motivation, and purging of old hurts. What I am going to tell you is that for me, anger is most often not healthy and instead of leading to motivation or something positive, leads to being short, unpleasant, and unable to be happy about much of anything for days.

When I'm genuinely angry and hurt, I often don't process it right away. Somewhere a long the way I learned that I was deeply alone. And I was for awhile. And even when I wasn't, there was a longer period of time where it wasn't safe or comfortable for me to have my feelings out loud. So, for me, anger turns inward. It is a dark and twisty spiral and it has spikes. It lays in wait, and sets a bomb wrapped in barbed wire. And what happens then is, I take this bomb, and quietly lay it on a shelf. For days or weeks or hours or years, and then I detonate it when I'm all alone. It sounds noble, as though I'm saving others, but it isn't. It actually serves to hurt more people because the bomb goes off at a time and in a way in which I cannot deal with it in a healthy, non-destructive way. The bomb can't be defused. It has to GO OFF and leave emotional shrapnel. And I spend the following days and weeks feeling the after-shock, and passing it on to innocent bystanders, or worse, going back to the person who accidentally hurt me long past the time in which they remember what happened and setting a bomb for them. It's awful.

So, I could be angry that my plan was derailed and I lost time. I could be angry that doing something completely normal like going to an ATM or getting a box of tampons may have set this theft in motion. I could, but who would I be angry with? I guess I could be angry with whomever thought it was a good idea to take my info and run off to Yuma (Really?! Yuma?!) but, I don't know them. I don't know why or how they did this. Maybe they're in a desperate situation. Maybe they have a sad story. Or maybe they don't. Either way, being angry at them, attaches me to them, and forces my brain to think about how and why this happens. And fraud prevention services told me that this is probably a lost cause - it is probably not possible to track exactly how and when this happens. Why would I attach myself to a lost cause? (I say this like I'm all wise and strong, but this is just EXACTLY what I've done in the past.)

This is like the 6th time in the last month that I've been presented with this lesson. There's a doozy of an example here - ahem, losing my job. A number of people have suggested I explore my anger at my former employer, or even seek legal counsel. But if I did either, that would keep me attached to them for a long, long time. And guess what, I already had more than enough time stewing over anger with them when I was employed with them! For me, anger would do nothing but feed the unhealthy connection I had with that organization. It would lead to . . . nothing but more anger and judgement. That is the very definition of empty calories in my life.

So, look at me, I'm growing. With this fraud, I was curious, I was focused on what I needed to do to rectify the situation, I was open to hearing anything I could do to prevent this in the future. But I wasn't angry. I didn't waste time on that, because I really needed to get back to my carefully orchestrated day. (And i was hoping I could finish up at the bank in time to get a cup of coffee) The banker was all," I'm so sorry this happened, and took your time." Well, ok, but I didn't have to spend 21 hours, or $300 plus dollars. I spent 2 hours, thus far, and have some minor ATM card inconvenience for a week. So, I responded, "Well, this has all been handled really quickly and professionally so I'm satisfied this will be completely ok very soon!"

The lesson I'm trying to learn here, and have been hit over the head with for the last month, is that LOVE PROVIDES AND PROTECTS. I heard that last weekend. Yes, I heard it at church. And so my minister's point was that God's love is without boundaries and unending, and will give you what you need. I struggle with that, and I also have friends who don't believe in God or that kind of God. But I think the application is relevant to the me that wants to believe in that God, and the me that often questions that. (So, I hope it applies to my friends who aren't in that relationship with God too.)

Whether or not you believe God helped me deal with my identity theft, or is walking with me in my job search (which is much more than just hide-and-seek-find-a-job but really me seeking a better life than I had), the reality is, I have been very loved and protected in all of this. My bank protected my account, and quickly. My friends' love has provided for me over and over and over. And over. I have been provided with help understanding my options, the offer of a place to stay if needed, lunches and dinners out with people I love celebrating my "freedom", the offer of help for my healthcare costs, personal training, some part time job offers, introductions to helpful people to network with, supportive rally cries by phone, mail, text, and FB message, help getting my resume together, help getting my resume out there, editing of my cover letter template, people asking to be my referrences, company as I work out my demons by sweating out some cardio, and just so many hugs, high fives, "atta girls" in person and at a distance that I've lost count. I had someone who I met and worked with for every bit of three days and who no longer works with my former employer look me up so that she could reach out to me, ask if I was alright, and if I needed help getting my resume into the hands of an educational company.

I am loved. Whether you think that love comes from God through people, or from people who are awesomely loving and giving, and who I have the amazing good fortune to have in my life, the bottom line is that I am loved. (I think both. Because the God I know gives people the complete freedom to have the morality of frog spit, or to be loving, kind, and generous.) And that love has provided and protected me.

If I needed any further proof of this I would need only to look at this:

In case you're wondering, that's love sitting on my kitchen table cut into the shape of beautiful flowers. I am loved.

(Have you ever gotten one of these Edible Arrangements? They are the bomb. I love getting flowers, and I love getting candy, and this is like both rolled into one, only most of it is healthy. Wow. Luck has nothing to do with it. I am loved.)

And focusing on that, instead of anger, has garnered me the chance to interview for 3 part-time positions, and 4 interviews for full-time positions. I don't want to pat myself on the back too much here, but I'm a little proud that I haven't spent my time stewing and dreaming up evil plots and dealing with a bomb and the ensuing emotional shrapnel. I'm proud that I've taken the time to reflect that it's ok for people to love me and help me. I'm proud that I'm putting my energy into the right place. Also, I really liked that fruit.

Friday means nothing to the Unemployed

I was at home working on some cover letters and applications yesterday afternoon, and I idly checked Facebook. You know,  like ya'do.

I saw four posts from people proclaiming their gratitude for it being Friday. "Friday, where have you been all week, I've missed you." "Going home to my baby, and glad it's Friday," and "Woo hoo, it's Friday!" And it occurred to me . . . Friday means very little to the unemployed.

Now, it so happens, I had a wonderful, healthy dinner out with my wickedly funny and totally brill friend last night, but that could have happened any night for me. Friday is just another day.

Right now, my weeks are like this:

Sunday - workout with my trainer, and try to catch up on some housework or cooking
Monday - another day of job hunting, and possibly some extra cardio
Tuesday - another day of job hunting, cardio, and NOT going to sing (I dropped choir during this season of fearful money)
Wednesday - another day of job hunting, cardio and resistance work out
Thursday - another day of job hunting, cardio and maybe some laundry
Friday - another day of job hunting, cardio, and resistance, pack gym bag for swimming
Saturday - treadmill, swimming, and church

As savvy readers, I'm sure you'll see the pattern here. I job hunt, and punish myself on a treadmill or bike (and occasionally I add some rowing or stairmaster in there too). I sweat out some cardio and I job hunt. I search for jobs, and I log cardio hours. Did I mention the time spent applying for work and the time spent raising my heart rate?

I've decided I need to add some variety in there. What can be said of my last job, regardless of liking it or not liking it, is that I was never doing the same thing repetitively. Every day was different. If I was in the office two days in a row, the tasks didn't match. And certainly, when on the road, what I was doing changed significantly depending on who I was working with that day. So, doing the same thing day-in and day-out is not a habit I'm in.

It becomes clear to me how the unemployed get into a rut of sitting around in their ratty sweatshirt, parked on the couch, steeped in depression. It's hard work to not be working, ironically. This is the hardest thing I've done, and this is speaking as someone who received two master's degrees, one while being emotionally abused by her adviser, trained for and earned a black belt, took and passed Calc 3, and was dumped by her fiance days after her father's death. This is hard.

It's hard to make myself reach out to friends, and hard to remind myself this isn't my fault. It's difficult to make this my full-time gig, and not be depressed. I'm working out a lot of stress on the treadmill, but not keeping despair at bay. Which isn't to say I'm sad and miserable all the time. I'm not. I swing from being wildly hopeful and thinking, "Yes. What an opportunity to find a job that really makes me happy and excited!" But when the pendulum swings back, I realize, "I don't get to blow off steam on Friday because I didn't work hard this week. I'm single, unemployed, and in my mid-thirties. How did I get here?"

Cardio isn't enough. I need to get out of the house. I need to do things that make me feel like I'm still a capable, confident adult that DOES things. Dinner out was excellent last night because I got to have interesting conversation and feel smart. Being alone in my house is a recipe for forgetting I am a person with ideas, vocabulary, and accomplishments.

For all of these reasons, I am contemplating two measures. One, budgeting $5-10 a week to sit at Starbucks or the like while job hunting-and-applying so that I'm not at home and have to wear a bra and something other than my ratty sweatshirt. Two, getting very serious about a schedule of part time work so that I am not consumed by what feels like the very real threat of never being useful to society again.

Do you want to . . .

"Do you want to do some bike and stair master on Monday?"

NO!!

Ok, people, lets go over this again. I don't like cardio. I really don't. Here are some things I do like:

• Sleeping 8 hours a night
• Watching the Colbert Report
• Learning from other people
• Fresh fruit
• Game nights
• Game nights with nachos and my friend Mary's divine popcorn
• Brunch
• Growing my own basil
• Teaching
• Babies. More specifically, watching babies becoming toddlers and learn awesome things.
• Swimming
• Writing
• Photography
• Giving someone a gift that makes their face light up
• Hearing people's stories
• Cooking
• Really amazing pizza
• Cupcakes
• Shakespeare
• Organization
• Respect, trust, integrity, inspiration
• Sports movies, end of the world movies, and movies based on true stories
• Working hard at something and getting it right
• Walking
• The ocean
• Sunsets over the mountains
• Pedicures
• Having friends from different corners of my life meet and like each other
• Music - listening, dancing to it, and making it
• Spending a day with some really good lemonade and a book I can't put down
• Laughing until my ribs hurt
• Fried pickles
  

Yeah, that's right. I like fried pickles. A lot. (It's hard to find them done right, but when found, they are glorious!)

So, ok, there are some forms of cardio on that list. I love to take a nice walk. Swimming calms me down and makes me feel both adrenalized and calm at the same time. And I've gotten exercise I haven't loathed while I was sweating. I used to climb with my bestest friend in NJ and, dudes, I sucked at it. But I loved it. I had no natural ability for karate, but an hour of working up a sweat at the dojo was more fun than beers with my friends, and so I often gave up going out with friends in favor of a class. I've been in some excellent games of capture the flag and soccer that I loved, win or lose. (Though I'm quick to tell you all, at age 21, playing a serious, all out game of capture the flag across my college campus, I brought home the opposing team's flag, with three of their players hot in pursuit. I ran THROUGH the dorm that had bathrooms as connectors between the halls, and changed floors from first, to second to third several times. No, I'm not competitive at all. I haven't any idea what you're talking about!)

But, cardio, for cardio's sake - naaaahhhhhh. I don't wanna. Nope. I do not want to meet you on the stairmaster. But I will. (Siiiiggggh)

Because here is something else I don't want. I don't want to sit at home, watching 6 hours of the Intervention marathon. I don't want to spend 3 days in a row in my pajamas, unshowered. I don't want to be here, each week, when my local Jehova Witnesses come on their regular visits. I don't want to lie in bed for three hours reading, and staring at the ceiling, and avoiding the frightening things about my current reality. I don't want to steep myself in activities that make it easy for me to slip into depression. I don't want to dwell on the negative.

I'd hate it more if I became a depressed shut-in trolling the web for job opportunities and cutting and pasting cover letters. So, I get on the treadmill. And I meet my friend and bike, and stairmaster (brutal!) on my appointed day-off from exercise. Sweating is better than crying. That's all there is to it. And being with people is better than being alone, even if it's a brutal 45 minutes on a bike and a stairmaster that make me want to hurl. Ugh.

hiking

So, I went on my mini-cation. And it was AWESOME.

A lot of people wouldn't understand why I drove 7 total hours in a 36 hour period to go back and forth for this little mini-break. I did it for a lot of reasons. For one, I've been struggling in the last couple of weeks and when I'm spinning in circles often the best strategy is to step outside the groove I've dug myself in the ground. Another reason was that I never get enough time with the friend who invited me. We live an hour apart, and lead very different lives (and then enjoy comparing notes). So, the promise of some uninterrupted time with my smart and hilarious friend was a big lure. I also love seeing more of the giant state I live in. I drive all up and down the Front Range in Colorado for work, but this state is really giant compared to the ones I spent all my time in before. You can drive diagonally across Connecticut in less than the amount of time that I make a drive to Colorado Springs and back, and that's one of my longest work drives but only a small portion of the state. In the time it took me to drive from home to the hotel yesterday I used to be able to drive through part of NJ, NYC and the rest of NY, and most of CT to go see my fam. I love Colorado. It is big, beautiful, and parts of it are wild. It always surprises me how much of it is empty, because that doesn't exist on the East Coast. But it does take time to see enough of it to have a feeling for the state as a whole.

Although I'm not usually a sleep-under-the-stars, pee-outside, outdoorsy type person, in Colorado the need to experience what it has to offer in terms of natural beauty comes over me. I actively look for chances to get up at dawn, climb falls, head into caves, and see things up close and personal. And this location provided me with the chance to drive through some beautiful country as well as to experience up close and personal a waterfall, national forest and gorgeous hiking trails at Fish Creek Falls.

My friend and I packed a lot of vacation into one day. I loved all of it. We had a drunken margarita dinner with food that was more cheesy than is good for my weight-loss goals. We spent time in the hot tub and heated, lighted, swanky pool at night. We watched two movies, shopped, and talked about everything from boys, to children, from music tastes to our politics about guns, from Casey Anthony to how hard it is shop for sports bras. We slept. We pretended we were on a sleep over and talked about who our Hollywood boyfriend would be. We also got out of bed yesterday morning, ate bananas and granola bars, and headed out in our not as awesome clothes and hiked for 90 minutes. (Bonus, Saturday September 24th is National Lands Day or some such, so we didn't have to pay for parking.)

I am short, and I think I've mentioned I have short legs. I am also not the most coordinated or graceful person. This means hiking is not just uphill walking for me. It's real work. For most of my life (and by most, I don't mean half the years I've been alive, but rather, until 4 years ago) my allergies were so bad and my asthma was so unstable that cardio wasn't something I could sustain. And the one would trigger the other, so that several times a year I'd be so ill that for 2-6 weeks I would be unable to exercise at all. That's a major setback for someone like me. It made progress always 2-steps-forward-3-steps-back. So, I missed nearly three decades of building up my cardiovascular health.

I also have two bad knees. My left knee started partially dislocating known as subluxing patella when I was 10 or 11. The good news is that it's not a dislocation that needs to be reduced. The bad news is that it happened 3-6 times a year until my ACL was destroyed and full dislocations became the norm. I had that "fixed" when I was 20 after spending over half a year in a brace and/or on crutches (super fun in one of the iciest winters Western Mass has had in my lifetime, let me tell you) trying to avoid surgery. That surgery was so not fun, because I was trying to keep up a breakneck pace of working several part-time jobs to pay my way through school, as well as planning big things for my "honors thesis" (not what we call it at my college, but similar) and continuing some pretty rigorous study. It was also unthrilling because the three days after that reconstruction was when we discovered I cannot take pain killers. It was a long, long rehab. I'll say that.

So, last year, when my left knee with it's 10 year old ACL graft decided to fully dislocate, it's an understatement to say I was disheartened. I was also on a business trip so I had to reduce it myself (gross noises ensue), ice it, fly home, and wait the weekend before seeing a doctor here. He had a plan of physical therapy and then see-where-we-are. I did 6 weeks of PT and when I had but one appointment left, I was feeling very good. My friends were going to go out dancing and I had mentioned I wanted to go but would probably just meet them for dinner and then leave. My physical therapist said, "Just plan an outfit around wearing your knee brace, keep your feet parallel and on your ground, and don't do anything too crazy. Your left knee will hold up." And my left knee did hold up. But my right knee dislocated three times.

So, after four months of trying other things, last July I had the right knee reconstructed. We did a different reconstruction, and actually it was a longer surgery with more to fix but smaller incisions and less recovery time. But because the repairs were very different I have two very different not quite perfect knees now. I was able to return to personal training about a year ago. I was done with PT in November of last year. But since then, my trainer and I have worked continually on how I stand, how my feet turn in or out, strengthening my knees and legs, and doing many, many exercises that involve stabilizing myself on one leg. I spend a lot of my sweaty-time in any given week doing exercises that make me think about which muscles I'm using to stabilize my knee.

Hiking means doing this non-stop. Where are my feet being placed? How am I pushing up or stabilizing on the way down? Are my glutes activated? My core stable? My knees hyper-extended? How is my balance?

Hiking is hard work for everyone, but most probably put less thought into it. But it's also probably one of the best exercises for me. Instead of being a squat or a one-legged touchdown, this is a functional exercise that causes me to strengthen, practice stabilization of my bad joints, and get some cardio. Going up makes my whole body work and increases my heart rate. Going down is easier on my breathing, but makes my hips, core, glutes, and thighs work harder than pushing up, because I have to consciously control them in order for my knees to keep tracking properly. I know it seems counter-intuitive but down is harder than up. I experienced this for months after each knee surgery - going up stairs was work, but going down stairs was scary.

My friend and I had discussed the night before that neither of us felt the need to hike for hours and hours or sheer rock walls to get to a destination. I also warned her that I might be a bit slower than she was (and secretly hoped she would still like me at the end). So, when we got to Fish Creek Falls we looked at the "you are here" map and the trails and felt that either the trail marked "easy" or "moderate" would do. It turned out, though, that these were rolling strolls on paved walkways that ended in lookouts. It as awesome to see that the park had wheelchair accessible options, but didn't fit our need to get some exercise. So, we crossed the river and headed up the rocky, craggy, high grade hill. Yep, the difficult path.

Let me say this. I never tripped. I never completely lost my wind (despite being at a higher elevation than the town I live in). I never wanted to quit. But, my brain was going at every moment, my feet and knees were working hard, and I was sweaty within 10 minutes. We did stop a couple of times to let people pass us. One was an undergraduat-y looking guy who seemed to be jogging up the rocky hill. that's nice for him. The other was a group of women that we dubbed the "Barbie goes Hiking" group - they were having constant conversation about wedding vows and wedding vow renewals. We decided having them beat us for the front position was fine if it meant we didn't have to listen to them. But for the most part we were walking or hiking UP for 40-60 minutes steadily.

We did not make it to the lake. I would be willing to go back there with the right person or people (someone who is not leaping and jogging up the hill, people who get that I'm a little slower not because I'm wussy but because I have to do it right) and the water and food to do it for the day. But it was 5 miles to the lake, so 10 miles round trip. Nope, not our plan for the day. But we broke a good sweat and various sources estimate that we burned between 700-900 calories. It was great that we got to see some gorgeous pictures, amazing views, and quiet (minus the Barbie hikers). We realized as we were leaving that when we arrived there were half a dozen or so cars parked and when we left it was a full lot. We got there at the right time). And I got an opportunity to put everything I've been working on for the last 18 months into practice.

You would miss one run and sign up for one blister for this, right?

Then, we went shopping. I like to remember my trips by buying things I don't need.

 I kept it under budget this time, and will always remember my awesome, unplanned, serendipitous weekend with my friend when I look at my bowl, pointless but hilarious little-shop-of-horrors steel art, and phone charger shelf. Happy, happy Christie. Thank you, thank you friend for being cool, smart, hilarious, and a fabulous friend.

walking in the mornings

Remember this post where I talked about all the walking I did in Seattle? Well, it wasn't something I was ready to give up, so I have been fighting to find time to walk a few mornings a week. Last week, on my one day in Colorado between Seattle and Utah, this meant getting up at 5:30am in the rain. On Thursday, I got to the airport early so that in addition to walking through security and to my gate, I had time to walk the entire terminal (with all my shit on my back! Sherpa!) so that I was walking continuously for 30 minutes before my flight. On Saturday it meant hopping into some sneakers and walking for a quick 30 minutes before my hair appointment, and then being OK with not washing my hair and wearing a baseball cap. This morning, I had this awesome plan. Since I have to pick up a rental car today (company policy about mileage vs. rentals given driving a certain distance in one day), and since I have learned that the only way to have good rental selection is to be there between 7:15 and 8:15am I had to be up early anyways (which is always super awesome, because rental car days are the days I drive longer distances and work even later. Sigh) I thought I'd get 30-45 minutes of walking in first thing.and the rental place is near the creek path I used to live on, so I parked in a visitor spot and then . . . realized that there's been tons of construction going on over there and I kind of had to off-road it and hoof it up a hill to GET to the path. So worth it though.

I am trying really hard to walk for 30-45 minutes three times a week as well as going to at least one Bar Method class a week in addition to my assigned cardio and resistance workouts and my 1-2 hours of swimming each week. For most of my friends, they can lose or maintain weight and gain muscle by working out three days a week for an hour or an hour and a half, maybe actually sweating 4-5 hours a week.If I do my assigned 5 hours a week (which is not assigned as time as much as it is assigned as tasks. "Do this resistance workout," or "your cardio is to run X amount"), it's not enough

What I'm finding out is that if I do just what my trainer gives me, it adds up to 5-6 hours a week, and then with the swimming, I'm up around 7-8 hours. But my body is different. I take steroids as part of my "maintenance" program for asthma (year round, 365 days . . . not when I'm sick), and this conspires with my hypoglycemia and other endocrine issues and the damaging effects of stress and cortisol on weight and before you know it, I'm killing myself to lose .5 pounds each week. It's just not satisfying to give up everything, and fight back the food cravings and addictive tendencies, and work out 5-6 hours a week with the best possible result being half a pound loss. And then, of course, it starts eating away at me on the inside and I don't want to try so hard. I want to say, "Screw it! Why shouldn't I have pizza?"

My sister and I were talking at some point in the last year about how hard I have to work to be this fat (my word, not hers!) but not get fatter and I said, "If I wasn't willing to work this hard, I would be the 400 pound woman that has to be cut out of her house." It sounds like an exaggeration, but I think there's real truth to it. I work really hard to be one of the heaviest people I know, and that gets emotionally hard to maintain. So, I'm tacking some extras on.

Now, of course I also know people who train waaaaa-hhaaay harder than me. I have one brother who completes triathalons and does yoga like a pro, and another who runs 15-30 miles a week, goes to jujitsu 2-5 times a week, as well as lifting. They do hours and hours of training each day. They also have like 4% body fat, and that is not my goal. Not only would that be unrealistic for me, it's not what I want. I want to feel I can build a lifestyle of "eating right" (which of course means discovering what that is for me, since it is different for everyone) and enjoying exercise, maintain a healthy weight to within 5 pounds of that goal point, and still be able to be social when friends are going out. I want to shop more easily. I want to look good in jeans. I want to like myself more, not be model-skinny.

So, I got up and walked. Everyone else, I'm sure, wonders why I didn't just get up and run, and get that out of the way. Well, for one, then I would run this morning, think, "Oh good, that's done," and then not do extra. It would then be my cardio assignment from my trainer, not my challenge to myself to do more. The bigger issue is that I can wake up early drink some water, eat a yogurt and go walking. I cannnot do the same with running. Running burns more calories than walking does and as a hypoglycemic, I wake up "in the hole" with my blood sugar. If I eat, and then run within the hour, I'm often not only deeper in hypoglycemic debt, I'm sick from it, making it take longer for me to eat, drink, and rest enough to feel like a human being again.

I can do it, but it takes an enormous amount of planning, and getting up even earlier. I did it in Utah, in fact, on Friday. I knew we had a day of meetings and travel planned, and that if I was going to get one of my assigned runs or resistance workouts in, I'd have to do it before I met my supervisor for breakfast. But this meant that I had to have a breakfast before that breakfast with him (protein shake, lots of water, apple, 4 crackers) and time to digest it so that there was enough raw goods for my body to work with. I got up at 4:30. It was appalling.

The other issue with getting my "real" cardio out of the way in the mornings is that the normal foot cramps I get at any time I'm running are intensified in the mornings to the point of make me want to lay down and die. I think this may be because I'm not as well hydrated in the morning after a night of sleep than I am in the evening after a day of drinking 100 oz of water. Whatever the case, I was limping for the rest of the morning on Friday, and I know I was that crazy person talking to herself on the treadmill. I was mumbling something like, "You don't have to like it, just have to do it. Finish strong. Doesn't have to be fast, just don't be last. Picture the zombie. Run from the zombie. " It was not a pretty sight, and honestly, not one of my better runs. (Not that any of them are awesome, but some are better than others.) I get those foot cramps walking in the morning too, but not nearly as badly!

Finally, I hates running. I hates it, precious! I like walking. I like seeing how beautiful Colorado is at sunrise. I like de-stressing and getting my head on straight before I have to interact with people, do my job, or make any hard decisions. So, for now, I'm trying for 60-90 minutes of walking in addition to my "assignments" plus swimming, and one class a week if I can swing it.

Pros, so far:

• I've been feeling more motivated about exercise, in general. Like almost to a "exercise is fun!" kinda place. I'm going to try really hard not to become too much like an aerobics, "Ok, everyone, let's turn it up!" kinda girl.
• Being able to take home some of the good-Christie feelings from Seattle has worked so far
• There isn't less stress in my life, certainly. This is my busiest month at work, I'm starting up with my incredibly scary-but-in-a-good-way singing class again, and obviously dealing with some relationship sadness and quandries. But I feel less strung out
• When I woke up this morning, I had this glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought, sleepily, "Thin." Full disclosure, it was 5:50 am, I had no glasses on, and surely it was some kind of visual illusion born of tiredness and the flattering exercise pants I wear but having that thought about myself, even for a sleepy moment, was pretty cool.

Cons, so far

• I suck at getting up early and doing things with that time. I know I will mess up this schedule at some point and have to fight not to turn that into a slippery slope
• I am missing sleep - about 60-90 minutes of it every time I work a walk or a Bar Method class in. Right now I'm not more tired though, I'm actually more energetic. So, right now I'm just missing the comfort and cozy of sleep. I love to sleep.
• I am getting fidgety when sitting at work. I was having a hard time at all of the sit-down meetings and lunches I was in in Utah. Sitting still for too long has become un-fun for me. In the long run, wanting to be more active and less sedentary is a good thing, but right now it's a little annoying and distracting for me when I'm trying to focus.
  

 So, it's not a case of which one is better for me; walking or running? They are both good for me in different ways and for now, at least, this is the best way to work them both in.

In other news, I think I am going to try an start posting milestones such as changes in measurements, clothes in different sizes, resolve to walk away from cravings, weight lost, and other good changes in my life. Just have to figure out how to format the blog to do that.

Why I hate running

Ok, I'll be honest. I hate almost all cardio, I shouldn't just pick on running. My trainer once tried to draw a correlation to which forms of cardio training I found most onerous and the strength of my hot white hatred.

Here is the list:

Stairmaster - not sure, haven't really done it
Arm bike - I wish I could set it on fire and would be happy to bring my own gasoline
Stationary bike - after 10 minutes I kind of want to stick something in my eye
Regular bike - they kinda scare me. Balancing, going fast, braking, who thinks this is a good idea?!
Elliptical - I'm really pretty sure this is a special form of torture for girls like me with thighs that need their own zip code. Proof of evil here on earth.
Rowing - being good at it is not enough to keep me from wanting to burn my eyebrows off. I'm that bored when I row
Running - at this point it's hard to say how I feel except that my body and my brain might disagree.

Here's the thing. My body despises running. Like, hatred akin to a thousand burning nuns. And it lets me know. I get all of the feelings other people do (except for the oft reported "rush you get after!" Ummm, no. Unless that so-called rush is synonymous with the simultaneous feeling of wanting to hurl and wanting to die, I have not experienced the rush my friends who run tell me about) such as: burning lungs, heavy legs, shin splints, etc. But in addition I feel other things like hobbling foot cramps, deep abdominal cramps, and nausea. You'd think the first things on my list would be my bad knees (both having now been reconstructed) and my asthma, and to be sure, those things kept me from running for a long time. (Hence the reason I never learned to run until now. ) But no, my feet! Agggghhhh!

My body hates running so much, but it must be a love/hate relationship because my body also responds to running. I can't even yet run a full mile without doing it in intervals. But when I'm really fighting to make sure I get my runs in, I lose weight. I so wish it were otherwise but thems the facts.

I am pretty analytical. I'm constantly walking around with data in my head, thoughts about correlation and causation, and looking always, always at patterns and benefits vs. drawbacks. I would be an excellent medical researcher. I was an excellent lab rat when I was running my abusive adviser's lab in her stead. It's just who I am. I can't deny that running gets the job done. I have evidence. I can't deny it. What I can do is to write a blog post by way of procrastinating tonight's run.

If feeling craptastic during and after my run was the whole story, I think I would be able to analyze and logically balance out and say that the weight loss was worth the discomfort. My problems with running run deeper though. For one, there is one shining star in my line up of despised cardio: Swimming. I love swimming. I would be willing to put a sticker on my car stating that I heart swimming. Love it. It makes me feel good, alive, accomplished, graceful, and athletic. And it's fun! If it wasn't bad for my hair and if it didn't require the time for an extra shower, I would swim for an hour a day. So, I'm always comparing and running becomes the badly behaved red-headed step child next to swimming.

The other problem is that . . . I don't see the POINT of running. The only good argument I've gotten for being able to run is in case of out-running a hoard of zombies if one should happen to survive the apocalypse. My very smart and hilarious friend once said, "You don't have to be fast, just have to not be last." (I so want a tee-shirt stating that with a zombie on it)

Now, my knowledge of zombies is deep enough to be spooky for some. What I've learned about zombies, variations in their manifestation and their pathology, and survival tips definitely warrants its own post. For now I'll say, that in addition to the CDC's recommendations for emergency preparedness during a zombie attack I do think cardio could help keep me alive during the end of the world. When I'm feeling lazy, though, I do find myself saying, "I have asthma and hypoglycemia. I really doubt I would survive the first wave."

Ok, all, with that, enough procrastination. Must. Go. Run. In. Case. Of. Zombies.