Unemployment is good for working out

I love games. I pretty frequently lose them (unless I'm on team "Winning!" for Taboo . . . hee hee!), but I enjoy how games mentally challenge me.

I also love, love, love my brother even though we are often competitive with each other. Who's mom's favorite? Which one of us is smarter, funnier, or most beloved? We are mostly kidding about these things (but not entirely). So, when he and I came up with a makeshift and ridiculously funny game, we both went all in.

I'm not sure how this came about, but when he got his iPhone he and I were showing each other tricks, tips, and apps. I showed him how to set up folders and move apps on the screens, he showed me how to set up my navigator. I told him to get Words with Friends, and he told me to get Dictionary.com. "Why?!" I said. He said, "Well, this might sound stupid, but I like getting the word of the day. Then, even though I'm a jock and a bartender, I try to use it in a sentence three times. I don't care if people think it's weird. I do what I want."

I was pretty impressed with that so I downloaded it immediately. And somehow over the next week, what evolved was a game of our own making. We started texting each other with sentences using the word of the day. And somehow this turned into, a sentence using the word of the day making fun of something or someone in our family. This, in turn, evolved into whichever one of us got the best sentence FIRST using the word of the day gets the "point." Now, we don't (to my knowledge) ever count points across weeks or months. But whoever gets the point gets the pride of that . . . until the next day :)

The effect of this is that I get to text my brother nearly every day. a couple of weeks ago the word was "excogitate." I managed to use it in a sentence referencing another running inside joke we have going right now. So, we were both laughing at my text. Then he asked how I was. And we started talking about working out - a common theme in our conversations. He said, "Unemployment is good for working out."

He should know. He played this game for nearly two years. And I saw how hard unemployment was on him. It was a similar situation in that his job was eliminated through no fault of his. He combated the difficult emotions of joblessness through humor. He would quote the movie "Knocked up" and say, "Yeaaaahhhh. I'm uh . . . no work today!" He laughed at the lifestyle of wearing sweats every day. But I know he was also anxious, antsy, and upset about the situation. So, he made jokes. He became sarcastic, and he poured even more of himself into working out. And that's saying a lot since he had been running, lifting, and practicing Jiu-Jitsu before he was let go. He had not one, but two low-cost gym memberships during that time. And he used them both.

So, when he said, "Unemployment is good for working out." I thought about it for a minute and then knew, that of all people, he would best understand when I said," And vice versa. It helps me not get crazy or depressed."

It will not be a shocker to any of you that while I don't exactly look forward to my dates with the treadmill, I have come to appreciate my time being active. Where it used to be a chore and necessity, I now really, really need that time. It is time out of the house. It is time away from screen. It is time away from my fears that I will end up living under someone else's roof.

So, it turns out, that I am not a sloth, regardless of what my physique might suggest.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to another friend who was checking on me and I said to him, about not responding right away, "Sorry, you caught me at the end of my run." He asked if it was a good one. As it happened it wasn't, but what I said was, "There are no good runs. Only running assignments I accomplish and those I don't." This is still true almost every day. I don't enjoy how my body feels when I'm running. Pardon me while I sound like an old lady - my feet hurt, my back hurts, my knee hurts, and it takes a lot more focus than someone like me with some ADD tendency often has to get my breathing in rhythm. I often have to close my eyes and try to go inward to somewhere that has nothing to do with the people on the treadmills next to me, the TV screen above me, the (not really so awful) pain, and the voice inside my head saying, "Stop!"

But the other thing that is true is that I'm grateful for it. Where I used to be assigned 90 - 120 minutes of cardio a week and 3 hours of high interval resistance, I'm now still doing the resistance but adding to the cardio . . . on purpose. Yesterday I swam two miles and ran two miles. The day before I lifted and then swam two miles. On a treadmill I'm not second guessing a cover letter. On a treadmill I'm not wondering about an interview. On a treadmill I'm far too busy to add and re-add a budget. I can fight for something tangible on a treadmill.

I wish I had understood this before I lost my job. The truth is, this is, in very real ways, the cure for many of my very real health issues. Working out can only positively impact PCOSor anyone working against insulin by stabilizing their health through regular exercise, and particularly a good blend of cardio and resistance, interval and/or anaerobic training.  Asthmatics who exercise stand to reduce stress (which can trigger respiratory issues), increase lung function, and sleep better. Whatever issues with focus I have are measurably improved by burning some energy off, and even my migraine issues are improved by exercising. While running may not be the very best thing to do for my knees (swimming IS but is not the very best thing I could do for my hair. Yes, that's right, I am a real girl somewhere underneath all of my facade and I have this one vanity) I figure this: my knees are wrecked enough that they're not going to last the rest of my lifetime. But they're working now so I should take advantage of it (because I can still remember palpably how frustrated I was when confined to an arm bike for weeks and weeks while my knees couldn't bear weight).

"But Christie, you were getting 5 hours of exercise a week before." Yes. Yes I was. But it wasn't enough. I've written about this before. Everyone else in the world gets weight control results from 3-5 hours of exercise a week. I don't. That's just the way it goes. So, if my weight goals weren't responsive to 5 hours a week, it stands to reason that my other health goals weren't being completely serviced by 5 hours a week. Also, let's be honest - 5 hours a week was the goal but between being on the road or on a plane or in a hotel it was often closer to 3 or 4 hours a week. And as I said recently to my trainer, "The thing is, before, if my exercise was on, my food wasn't. Or vice-versa. It was never both being right at the same time." I take responsibility for that. I also think, in analyzing it, I wasn't ever going to be able to fully take on changing that if half my life was spent in transit, without any schedule that resembles normal human life, and unable on many occasions to plan or cook my meals.

So, I'm aimed at 5-6 hours of cardio each week now, in addition to my other "assignments." as much as possible, I try to keep it low impact cardio, and I'm really not thinking of it being "extra" cardio right now. To me it seems more like having missed school and needing to make up for it. As a child, I  was hospitalized for asthma related complications and illnesses at least 2 times a year. My shortest hospitalization was 4 days. My longest was 4 weeks. There was always some homework I could do once I had gotten a little better and wasn't fighting for my life (literal, not exaggeration. I know how to handle it, but fighting for a breath and having your oxygen levels drop despite medication is scary) but I also often had a busy schedule of blood tests, chest X-rays, respiratory therapy, and treatments. So, then, I'd go back to school and have a lot of homework to make up. I feel like that now - I'm making up homework from when I was sick. The difference is I wasn't consumed with chest x-rays or IVs, but with work before now. I did miss hours, and hours of agreed upon "homework" though.

So, when someone said to my 2 miles of running and 2 miles of swimming last night, "Gawwwd. that sounds awful," I was able to say, "I know. But it helps me not freak out right now so it's a good thing. It's hard to get too crazy when I'm this tired."

As I peer through the window of hopeful employment this month I find myself often thinking about the logistics of different positions and quickly on the heels of that thinking, "would I still be able to count on myself to get my workouts in?" I may not, when I go back to work, keep my gym time as high as 9-10 hours a week, but I'd like for it to be higher than the minimum required 5 hours. I sleep better, I like myself better, and the treadmill and I, if no yet friends, are now showing grudging respect for one another. That would have to be considered important even if I was spending 40 hours a week working instead of 30 hours a week job hunting and interviewing.

Think of this as your desert island time

The set up is like this . . . last Wednesday had all the makings of an excellent, good news, shiny day. (And having recently availed myself of Firefly via Netflix I mean "Shiny!") Instead, it turned into a day where I worked very hard to stay professional and calm, and as a result found myself sitting in the back of my car, trying to meditate my way through not losing my shit.

In between the things that happened were an interview where the job offer that had been previously discussed was divided by 2, and the territory for said job had magically relocated too. (Note: even if the salary offer wasn't an issue, which it was, the fact that 4 hours of phone interviews had given me one set of details on salary and territory and the in-person interview gave me another was the bigger red flag.) I held things down and asked some pretty intelligent questions about this, I thought, without getting accusatory or defensive. So, that was good. But then, I got back into the parking garage and found that the jacknut parked next to me was literally about 3 inches from my driver's side. Couldn't even get my arm through to open the door. So, I had to see if I could crawl in from the passenger side. I tried a couple of tactics, all the while dreaming of notes with flaming hot prose left on their windshield. So, I ended up sitting in the backseat, trying to breathe out the rage and find the cool, calm, center of the universe.

I had posted lots of rainbows-and-hearts type things on Facebook about this interview, so of course when I got myself together and crawled my way into the front seat,  I posted something cursory on FB. I didn't want to be over-the-top negative; I did want people to know that things were not as promised and not hold out on details for the people who were wanting to know.

This caused my sister and a couple of my best friends to call me. I kept it together with my sister for half an hour, but finally found myself in a parking lot just saying, "Why can't I just have a year where everything is ok?" One of my friends then let me swear, pretty much non-stop for 10 minutes and then obliged me when I said we needed to talk about other things. We spent another 10 minutes talking about him and other things about me and making jokes.

The other friend asked me what happened. And I told him . . . calmly. Not without emotion, but with some perspective. We talked about my job prospects, and his work situation (job talk in the near future! Yeah!). And he asked me if there was anything else going on in my life.

The hard truth is . . . not so much. I see friends. I go running. I went on a date. (well, by now a couple) I've never been so on top of the TV shows I like. I write. A lot. I read. And in terms of job searching - I have 5 places I check on the regular, I file what I find, I write and adjust cover letters, I submit letters and resumes online. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I said to him, "I'm not chasing after a kid, but I'm growing to really appreciate how hard it is to be at home all the time. I feel very much not a part of the world, and so it's hard to have anything interesting to say when people ask me what I've been doing. It's a lot of the same." Over and over, I would add. (I have to say, I have two mommy friends in particular in mind as I write this paragraph and hope they know that I'm not saying I understand the full scope of how hard that job is, just a small glimpse)

My friend said to this, "Think of this as your desert island time . . . so rare are the down times that when they come they really annoy you!"

It is ironic, actually, that what I was fighting for in my last job was the ability to keep being successful but not have to sacrifice my personal life to do so."Be careful what you wish for" is cliche, and also doesn't adequately describe what I feel about this. I think this time is . . . harder work than my job. But maybe better for me in terms of my long term goals and needs and wants. I'm not sorry for what I wished for because it is still what I wish for - a job where I can use my strengths to my best advantage, make a difference, and be successful, but also go home and feel like I can service the rest of my life.

So, back to last Wednesday. I was annoyed that I spent 7 hours to hear what, had I heard in the first half hour, I would have said no to. Annoyed that I had to crawl into my car from the back seat. I'm annoyed that I had to invest 5 hours to get to was such a bust. I'm really annoyed that I'm becoming a boring person that pretty much only has this to talk about. And annoyed that I'm the horrible friend that had this discussion with my friend on his birthday. Ugggghhhh.

I'm also annoyed that because of the nature of this position, this could be a mind game. It could be (I don't think so, but I can't help but wonder) that they were expecting me to come back and sell them on me being worth the potential offer that was discussed initially in my phone interview. Of course, it could be, just thinking about the wording, that the phone interview person was just not being clear on how their compensation works . . . either on purpose or by accident.

If this is my desert island, well, it's filled with a lot of doubts, second-guesses, and questioning myself. But, as a very wise therapist pointed out yesterday (not related to this story, actually, which makes me believe that it's even more true) that is what my desert island is whether I'm interviewing, or employed, single or coupled, living alone or with someone. I often make decisions competently and confidently, and then second guess them. I sometimes aim lower than I should, and while it doesn't happen all the time doubting or blaming myself is something that has importantly defined some of the situations that have most shaped me. So, maybe this isn't the island I asked to be on, or maybe it is. But, I was living some of this island life before I was let go.

But now that I am on the island, coconut in hand, it's interesting to note what is different and what is the same. Once, in a very bad movie (that I nonetheless enjoyed) Harrison Ford said, "It's an island, if you didn't bring it with you it's probably not here," or something very like that. There's some truth to that. What I had with me, came to the island. In that sense my insecurities don't have a lot to do with my situation. And, the culture and realities here are importantly different. It's filled with a chance to sleep 8 hours every night, but also not always of peace of mind to implement that. It's filled with a lot of alone time . . . though I suppose that's the point of a desert island. If it was an island where I had more means, it would be a time to redo some of the rooms of my house and take some online courses, but as it is, it has been a chance to read a lot, and educate myself on a couple of new things. (Both of them pretty cool!)

Much like a desert island, I ration food, and other resources. And, my days are very repetitive and a little bit . . . boring, and lonely. It's clear that while I was making a zombie survival plan I should have also been making a plan to survive the desert island. You know - what would you bring, who would you want there, how would you make it through. You know the game.

Let's I was in the way of being stuck on the LOST island, for instance. My scary unseen monster is the day my bank account hits zero, and I have to live in my car. (Yes, that is hyperbole. Because as we all know there's a beautiful room waiting for me in Boston) Or ask people for money. (Of the two, the later is VASTLY worse.) The "others" on my island of unemployment island are . . . well, ok, I haven't figured that out yet. And, the force controlling everything that I'm trying to reconcile myself with, well that's obvious.

So, the survival plan so far has been, as my friend said that night, keeping my options open. (He actually said something porny-er but, you know, I'm reporting the part that applies.) In this case, it takes a lot of work and energy to create those options, but, this is ok because I am excited about finding them, and settling on the right fit. What I need on the desert island to keep that going are the people who help me see myself, and think out loud. I suppose this is like the zombie survival plan in that way. It's the people. In this case though, the skills I'm looking for may have a little more variation. If it were a real island, of course, my top priorities would be someone who knows about living/eating in the wild (food and shelter),  someone who can patch people up (medicine), someone who can fix the radio or get us things we need out of the scrap metal or plane crash (electronics and technology), and ideally, a barrista who happened to wash ashore with their trusty espresso machine. (Let's be clear though, if it's a choice between saving the barrista and the espresso machine itself . . . well, I'd at least have to think about it since I ran a cafe in college and could make my way back to making a decent latte if needed.) Those things don't change in my survival scenarios. You know, just the basics.

But, desert living, I've discovered, is different than zombie living.  A lot less flesh eating, a lot more people wanting to eat lunch with you. A lot less running for your life, a lot more making yourself go to the gym to run. So, on this island, I need my people. I need David who keeps me practical without letting me get grim. I need Wil's special brand of hope and pessimism, of intricate, even artistic language, and the ability to be blunt and efficient. I need Rob, because there is nowhere in my life where I don't need the person who knows me best, and has known me for 32 years. Also, who else can I find myself in 7 off-shoot conversations from the original topic? And more to the point, Rob and I are very different, but the same, so he is sometimes my conscience and heart, and yet can also make me laugh like no one else. I need my girls because they love me for exactly who I am, and it is rare that I'm with any of them for more than 30 minutes before things get pretty irreverent. Rebecca, Elisabeth, Gabrielle, Krystel, and Annette are high on this list because they keep everything real whether it's good or bad, celebration or consolation time, dance party or dealing. I need Heather, because where Rob is my heart, Heather is my head. She and I think much the same, and yet subtly differently. In the last year I noted that when I'm at her house, my working vocabulary goes up and I feel more intelligent and more clear in my thoughts. (Importantly, this doesn't mean I don't also need her affection. Just, if I'm giving out jobs, well, she excels at that one) And I need Susan who is much like Rob, in that we seem to be able to share everything without reserve. She has so much heart that some of it has to be on her sleeve, and in her over-abundance, she gives a lot of it away. She helps keep me grounded in faith and belief while also supporting me in every other way she knows how. And, I need a trainer on this island, so it's lucky that I have the best one.

I know, espresso, trainer . . . this is a very swanky desert island. That's just how I roll. I should just go for broke and wish for ice, limes, and tequila, eh?

The thing I'm trying to do is to leave the desert island, but take some of this with me. To have brought whatever I brought here is inevitable but to take out only what is useful is, I think, the task at hand. I'll take these friends without question, because they take me without reservation. I'll take the trainer, and the espresso and tequila (not together!) if it's available. But there are some other deeply important things I'd like to pack when I board to leave. this is crucial, because what I actually want is NOT a year where everything is "ok" but a year in which I have the same ups and downs as everyone else yet still feel, on the whole, that my life is better than ok, stunning and moving even.

• The belief that I live in a time, and have the skills and strength to choose and shape the future I want
• This new found faith and belief. But even more than that, the wonder I feel at being able glimpse the tiny bit of the pattern I see
• The understanding that it's not accidental that I "fall" into creative pursuits - this blog, other writing, singing, photography. That it is what most feeds and energizes me, and so it has to be part of my lifestyle. Not an afterthought
• The time and quiet to read as voraciously as I can, and have in the past. I missed you old friend, glad you're back.
• The understanding that my values of being there for others, showing love, and offering help where I'm able has to work both ways. There is a way in which always being the giver is . . . ironically, selfish. If I truly believe that being here for each other is what we're here to do, I have to be willing to participate in the whole cycle, not just the part I'm comfortable with. Independence is one thing, pride just damages that cycle.
• This new found ability to be passionate without apology
• All the honesty I brought in, has to come back out with me.
• Patience and Forgiveness. These are still underway but maybe will be formed enough to survive the trip when it comes time?
• The understanding that I can think one thing, and feel another
• The certainty that I am loved, and at the end of the day, that is enough.
• The ability to let go - total responsibility and accountability for the things I can and should do, zero judgment or blame for the things I cannot control
• As much gratitude as I can carry. I may need a bigger suitcase for this, honestly.
  
  
  

And you know, if customs isn't a problem, I'll take some coconuts too.

Lacrosse balls, food logs, and breathing, oh my!

I'm someone who needs a lot of professional help. I try to do things myself as much as possible, but sometimes, I just can't do things on my own. I hire people to wash my car. I sometimes hire people to do my toenails, not because I can't do it but because I love, love, love pedicures. I used to cut my own hair, but the truth is, it's worth it to pay someone else to do it. I pay to have my clothes altered because I never learned to sew. I hire people to change my oil and my condo association hires people to do our lawn care and landscaping (thank god!). I have friends who do these things on their own. I have a couple of friends who do their own oil change, and one of my oldest and dearest friends spent the summer re-siding his HOUSE for God's sake. Not me. I mean, I don't pay to have my laundry sent out or anything, I can do things for myself (I cook! I do my laundry, I hate folding, but I do it!) there are just things that it would take me so much time to do or to learn to do that it's worth it to pay to get it taken care of.

There are a couple of things about this that fascinate me. For one, it is one of the most conspicuous signs that I am in the middle class. While I grew up in a family that was comfortable most of the time, I also grew up during the last great recession, in a family with three kids. So there was very rarely extra to go around. And with one parent who was working incredibly hard to transcend not attending college and another who left a white collar job for a blue collar one, I think it's fair to say I grew up not quite in the comfortable middle class - perched nearby but not quite soundly there. I grew up in a town full of incredibly privileged families, so while we weren't ever worried about putting food on the table, I was aware of the differences. We didn't have someone clean the house, we didn't go to Disney World. New cars, nuh-uh.

I am often uncomfortable with the fact that I have launched myself into this class in society. For instance, I can't fathom buying a new car. And, I don't know that I will ever be able to hire someone to clean my house (not that I need to, my house is fully cleanable by me) because cleaning houses was one of the four jobs I worked to pay college tuition. I feel very weirdly self-conscious when I pay someone to hem my pants. I am aware that I have choices like buying plane tickets and iPhones.  And there are times (like when I bought my iPhone, or when I moved into this place with in house laundry. Not in-building . . . in my HOUSE! Life-changer, woot!) that I celebrate it.

The other thing is that . . it becomes more and more natural to ask for help. In the long run, this is a good thing. I used to be pathologically, stubbornly independent. My mother loves to tell the story that when I was two I would cry out if either parent started to help me, "I'm inn-deeeee-peeenn-DENT!" It used to be painful for me to ask for or accept help. When I was on crutches for a year, my boyfriend-at-the-time offered to go down to the basement and get me a ginger-ale. I was mortified. Now, it seems like it's nothing to me to ask for help. But underneath, I am always a little concerned that I should just suck it up and do it myself.

But yeah, I get professional help. Just in the last week, I got my hair done, saw my trainer, saw a therapist, and followed a plan made by the dietician. I am logging my food, and following a plan of how many carbs, how many vegetables, how much fat and fruit, and what counts as a serving size.  This means I have to measure all my food, plan carefully to get enough of everything, and do a lot of cooking (thank goodness I can do THAT by myself). I am writing everything down and thinking, "Oh, I should eat more olives tomorrow," or "Oh, I should remember that that only counts as a half serving." It's a lot to think about when I just want to grab lunch.

Meanwhile, my trainer has me not only working the kinks out in my muscles, but re-learning how to stand and walk. Today it's snowing so I'm camped on the couch because my brain is full of thoughts on how to walk. "Three point walking - heel, ball, toe." Standing is work because I'm constantly having to remind myself to change my posture, shift my weight off my toes, and unlock my knees . . . it's how the rest of the world stands, but it feels like my knees are bent when I do this. This is what is in my head while I'm cooking, while I'm showering, putting on make-up, reading the label on some granola in the aisle of Whole Foods. While I'm standing in the grocery line, or talking to someone on my feet, it looks like I'm doing normal things, you know how you do, but really I'm trying to revamp my whole way of staying upright and moving through the world. My brain is full, and it's work to keep track of this.

I am foam rolling my muscles, and using a lacrosse ball to roll my feet out. That's not only work, but it's painful and time consuming.

Add to this following a technique from the therapist about how to be assertive without expectation, and breathe through anxiety and I'm constantly questioning myself. What would expectation look like? Is my weight on my toes? Is that cheese one serving of dairy or two? Am I walking correctly? Did I roll out my leg muscles and IT band today? Breathe, breathe, assert your wants, but don't cling to any expectation about them. Is this assertive or aggressive? What do I want. Unlock your knees! Oh no, didn't eat enough fat servings today!

Oh, it's work. And it sometimes seems backwards that I pay to add this work to my day. But, I know in the end, I asked for this help. And I need it. I need not to bring more mess to sort through into the middle of my relationship. I need to have a an eating plan that allows me to eat on the road, but also be healthy and chip away at my goals. And I need (oh, I can't believe I'm going to say this) to be able to go running. I need to work out and feel good about it. 


So I seek help. I work hard to work those things into my schedule. I work hard to follow the things I learn, the things I need to change, into my day-to-day. So, I bought me two lacrosse balls, I carry around my food log, and I'm working on breathing my way through the messy feelings I have right now. Oh my!

ungood week

Have you ever had the kind of week where it's just like . . . . ughhh, please be over?!

I can't really say that anything horrible happened. There were no flat tires, no weight gains, not major work crises. My boyfriend and I are slowly sifting through some of the issues between us, and getting back to a place where it feels good to be together. Everything just feels like . . . work right now.

I know what a privilege it is for me to work this hard. I know that what I do in the gym matters. I know that planning my meals makes a difference. I know how lucky I am to be able to feed myself with healthy food in this country that has so many families struggling to feed themselves and resorting to processed cheap stuff. I know that I shouldn't complain about having a job that pays the bills. I know also that having someone who loves me and who is willing to work on the things that need attention and revamping is no small thing. I just feel so, so tired that everything is so time consuming right now. It's hard to keep being psyched about all of it. I feel like I keep moving my focus and gaze; I'll put a spot light on my eating for a week, and it will go well, and then I'll move the spotlight to my exercise the next week, and that will go well but the eating will slip a little, and then the next week my focus will be on my relationship and my feelings, and then my eating and exercise will start to go all wonky . . . I feel like there isn't enough of me to attend to all of the parts of me right now and that is frustrating. It's all well and good for me to tell my boss, "If everything is a priority then nothing is a priority," but I struggle when that prophecy comes true in my life.

If I'm allowed to whine a little bit more, I just want to sleep. I want a whole day where I do nothing but sleep, drink really tasty flavored Perrier, and read. And then sleep some more. I want a day where I get to eat pizza and not think about it. And I want a day that's all about me, not about anyone else and what they need from me. I don't want to be greedy so all of those things can happen on the same day. I'll condense so as to allow others to have their magical days - I assume magical days are a zero sum game and that there's only so many to go around, you see. The thing is, in order to have this magical day, I need an eight day in the week, because there are 5 days a week where I need to work really hard, and 6 days a week where I have to work out really hard. And then I'm all out of days.

A lot of what is fueling my down mood this week is that my running has been sucking a lot of suckage. When my friends were here, just two weeks ago, I jog/walked 2.5 miles in less than 30 minutes. This week, getting through 2 miles has been awful. There is something wrong with my calves, but since I'm not a "real" runner, I don't know what it is. the backs of my calves feel hard and puffy, and if I touch them, it feels like they are bruised. But they're not. (Does anyone know what this is?) It weirds me out that I can feel pain as though it's on the surface but not see the cause. Worse, this seems to be resulting in a return of my bad, bad foot problems that had been disappearing. The last couple of runs, my feet have cramped up so bad that they went numb and tingly.I am missing the feeling of simple, brute accomplishment I was getting from completing run and progressing in speed and endurance. No, I still don't get the "rush" my runner friend is always on about, but I do feel like I've done something real and tangible after I run. With everything else in my life being such a long, drawn out THING right now, I don't often get to have a good result right away - you can't get that from eating chicken and broccoli, you don't get an instant warm fuzzy from having a hard conversation with a loved one, and let me tell you, while database reviews need to get done at work, there is nothing immediately gratifying about them. So, I kind of - gasp, dare I say it - miss having a good run in my life right now.

It's a weird but true fact that when things are going well, I just expect them to keep going that way. I don't always think about what it takes to keep things going well, though I try to think deeply about what are the things that made a day or a week good. I think in this case, I just have to look at the things I have committed myself to, make sure they are still the things I want to do, and that they leave room for other things I love, and decide if I need a break from anything. Certainly part of this is about work - because I worked a ton on the road in September, I have a ton of office work to catch up on, and still not quite enough time to do it because October's normal travel schedule wasn't built around the idea of making up for the lack of office time in September. It's hard to work long days, every single day, for two months straight. It's harder still to have no days where I sleep in, and to be constantly trying to force an hour or more of exercise into my schedule during this busy time. It has often meant I roll out of bed very early, head into the office and then take a lunch break at a weird time in order to walk, run, or lift.

I find that when I'm tired and run down, my commitment to a lot of things wanes. I feel less excited about time with friends, about getting work done, about working out, and certainly eating right becomes very difficult. I definitely have found that my appetite is often not the predictor of when my healthy eating habits crack, but rather how tired and run down I am. It's hard to balance the need to keep going, do more, against the need to slow down and rest so that you don't crack in your resolve.

For that reason, after a long day at work yesterday, I chose to place more importance on spending time with two of my good friends and really slow down, not worrying as much about schedules and committments. I probably should have been in the gym, but it felt like it was really needed to stop being part of the machine. So, I had a beer, and a salad, and a run through Colorado's #1 haunted house (and yes, I mean a run. There were places that were sooooo creepy) and then back to my friend's house to listen to music and talk about plans for the upcoming Halloween party. Then I slept for a full eight hours, and soon I will go get my hair done and head out to a casual wedding reception. I know I need this time by the level of frustration and disenchantment I have with everything right now - as a for instance, I was so tired yesterday that I thought, "Ummm, maybe I just won't go out for food and the haunted house." And then I stood outside myself and thought,"Wait, you really want to do this, you're just tired. Go!" I also know the challenge is to not turn this little 1 day break into a bad habit of not doing what I need to do.

But for today, hallelujah, I feel like I got enough sleep and I'm looking forward to the fall weather and a chance to see a few people I like, and then who knows, maybe some more sleep. Fingers crossed that getting some rest and talking to my trainer will help me find the answer to how to get my mojo back in running - who knew that losing that groove would effect me so much?!

Run your own race

I heard this phrase  in a workshop this week. The workshop was rife with platitudes, but also opportunities to get different perspective or consider new strategies, so to this particular phrase, I worked really hard not to roll my eyes.

I found myself today, with real reason to think of it. After being on the road non stop for work, then away and in this workshop for two long days, and then vacationing with friends, we decided today was the day to head out for a run. I told them about some of the outdoor running I had done, and nearby parks, but we also noticed that there was a very handy grid of roads around my condo that make a near perfect 2.5 mile square starting and ending at my door.

It's not like I hadn't thought of road running before. After all, this is Boulder. I see more people on bikes and running in my neighborhood than I see prairie dogs, and given the prairie dog preserve I live across from, there are a lot of prairie dogs!  But, I've been intimidated to road-run before. It seemed much easier to hide my inadequacies in a nice private part of a park, or even better, on the lone treadmill in the much neglected work-out room in my development. Also, in the past distances were an issue for me, But now I am regularly completing 2-3 mile running "assignments." One excuse down.

The other thing is, I don't run continuously. My trainer and I are on a strict program of me running intervals. We work hard to make my running intervals longer and my rest intervals shorter, but I don't bust out 2 miles non-stop. I definitely feel like this excludes me from the club of real "runners" that I am surrounded by in this part of the country.

Finally, I'm not all that fast or super-fit looking, so running where people can see me does make me a little insecure. what this has resulted in is me often running in a very isolated and boring way, aka the treadmill. I don't get wind on my face, good scenery, or the feeling of forward motion, but I do get to carefully calculate my times, and run in a way where few people see or scrutinize what I'm doing.

Today, my friends and I had decided, was a day for being more healthy, so we headed out with lots of "I've been researching non-stop for a month, so I won't keep up," and "I only do 10 minute miles at my best and with the altitude . . ." type comments as disclaimers about nobody needing to keep up with or hold back for any one else. Still, I knew that I would be arriving back at my own house, after my very own sea-level guests. No matter how long it had been since they ran, or the adjustment to the altitude, I knew. Because, fundamentally, although I am someone who runs, I am not a runner. And there is a difference.

It was hard when within 5 minutes both of them were more than a quarter mile ahead of me, but I had to tell myself, "This is your first road run in, ummmmm, ever."

Then they were both a half mile ahead. It's hard to not be "in the pack" but I can only do what I can do. I reminded myself that I have short legs and what I can churn out is just different. Forget the knees, my bad feet, the asthma. Even if all of that was magically erased, as someone who stands "5'2 on a good day!" having my pace match that of someone a foot taller is unlikely.

Finally, after about 10 minutes, I just settled into my running assignment, which is actually a discovery assignment. (I love these because I get to be  scientist studying myself and seeing what happens) No intervals set for me, just a run this amount, break it up how you need to, and see how long you can run for, how many intervals, and how long it takes you assignment. I had to run my own race, and make the run about me getting done what I needed to get done.

What came of that is that in the same amount of time i took to run 2 miles last week (at 10 at night) I ran 2.5 miles today. Outside. On the road. and I ran my longest distance without stopping yet! My competitive nature made me feel a little . . . disappointed when I returned home to find my two best friends already lounging and recovering, but if I can be competitive with myself, well that gets the job done much better. 2.5 miles! 28 minutes!

I also realized a few things on this run:

• running outside during nice weather is infinitely more enjoyable than running on a treadmill. I never thought about quitting, was not aware of muttering to myself like a crazy person, nor did I have to use the zombie-trick to stay motivated
• Running into the wind is hard
• Timing my breathing is harder on the road
• My feet, hands, and shoulders like running outside more
• My back likes treadmill running better
• Not having a clock keeping track actually made me push myself harder
  

So, while it may get me better results to run on a treadmill right now, it may also be keeping me from having better experiences running. Hmmmm. I probably need to plan some more outdoor runs before the weather turns bad. Which, in Colorado probably means I have about 6 day. Ha! See you out on the road!

Who are these people, and what are they doing at my gym at 10 pm?

As I'm sure I've made everyone painfully aware of at this point, running is not my fave. In truth, it's not just running because there are a lot of weeks where the workouts my trainer gives me are not my favorite. Sometimes they're exciting, but sometimes not so much. (Like this week, where I am doing a lot of movements with weights that kind of cause me to freak out, and then psych myself out a little bit. I guess that is exciting, but not in a happy way.)

What are my favorites? Swimming. Walking. Those are things I'm good at and can do and feel real accomplishment moving in to take the place of the stress that is leaving me. I also miss the adrenaline of kickboxing, though I was never really, aweseomely skilled at it.

So, running and lifting can be challenging for me in the best of weeks. Getting to the gym is half of the battle because it means I've won the mental struggle saying, "Wouldn't you prefer to read a nice book instead?." Why yes, I would, damnit (and I have a stack of good ones just waiting for me), but that will not help me feel better in my clothes, or in my skin.

I belong to a gym that stays open 24-7. When I joined it was because of the convenience of location, the decent price, and the plethora of cardio machines; not because I envisioned myself working out at all hours of the night. In fact, I thought, "Oh, I'll never work out that late." Ohhhhhh how foolish of me. It's like I blocked out the fact that two months out of the year I log a minimum of 55 hours of work per week. It's also pretty common for me to eat dinner after 9pm at least 2 nights a week even when it's not "the busy season". Wake up, Christie, your job is insane. Seriously working out seriously means working out at some pretty weird hours and that has been true for the 5+ years you've had this job.

This month has been a tough one at work. I have had exactly three work days where I wasn't on the road driving from center to center in Colorado, and two of those days were because I flew out and was visiting two centers in Utah. If you're wondering, no, I don't have to do less paperwork when I'm on the road this much. In fact, I have more because each visit has an equal and opposite follow up report. I just end up working more and more hours at times like this, while still getting more and more behind on office tasks. (Maybe you weren't wondering but obviously I needed to vent that thought anyways. ) So, it's actually kind of amazing that so far this month, I have not had to use the late-night gym drop-in. Until tonight.

It was a long-ass day. And all day long I had to keep on reminding myself, "You still have to fit in some quality sweaty time!" A little personal pre-frame. You will go running. Yep, it'll be late, but that run will happen. I left the house at 8:30 am with a stuffed messenger bag with my computer and some of what I call, "bringing the office on my back." I had a second messenger bag full of copies for meetings and presentations I was leading today. This was joined by a 94 ounces of water, and a ziploc full of snacks. My purse, of course (and yep, I still have that tiny-deodarant in there) and my gym bag. I had a meeting, some lunch (not the healthiest choice, but some real protein and veggies) drove an hour, and then found myself with 45 minutes to kill. So, I grabbed some caffeine and free wi-fi about a block from the place where I was going to be giving back-to-back presentations. In the block drive from the coffee shop to the center I knew something was off but not until I parked and started to haul things out of my car was it clear that I had a flat tire. Ugh. That was about hour 11 of my 14 hour day. And I knew there were still two hours of presenting and 60-90 minutes of driving home if only the tire could be changed. No matter - one brief and bad phone-under-running-water moment and visit from the friendly neighborhood AAA burly man and two presentations later I was back on the road and pulling into the gym parking lot at just before 10 pm.

I'm not saying this to pat myself on the back, but it's fricken hard to make yourself drive to the gym and not directly home after working that long. I fight with myself about getting my workouts done all the time, but the voices entreating me to go home and get comfy are much more insistent after working for more than 12 hours straight. The flat tire alone and the stress of that made me long for my bed and a way to shut the book on this day. But I did it, grudgingly. I seriously couldn't even get into thinking about zombies as motivation for my treadmill time. But I also couldn't hold meetings about results and give presentations about accountability and then drive home and not put my time in. I heard myself say to someone today, "The time will pass either way, it's a choice of whether or not the family chooses to use it making things better or staying the same." That statement applies to me too - the day, week, month and year will go by no matter what I do or don't do; it's my choice whether or not to use it to get healthier and achieve some of my goals.

So, there I was, 10 pm,  suiting up for a run that I absolutely, positively did not want to do. But a funny thing happened. Once I won the internal battle to get out of my car and go inside the gym, getting on the treadmill and running wasn't as hard as it sometimes is at much more reasonable times of the day. It was as if something deep inside me, something quiet and subconscious was saying, "you already did a 14 hour day, a stressful phone moment, a flat tire, and meetings and presentations. Of course you can run for 30 minutes. " So, I ran. I didn't jog, I ran. I ran above 5.5 most of the time, and where my longest interval of running before had been 5 minutes, I ran for 7 minutes for my first interval and for 5 minutes for my second interval. I sprinted at 6.2 and above. I finished my "assignment" of running 2 miles with 2.5 minutes to spare on the time I was supposed to be keeping. I kept all of my rests (otherwise known as walking) to three minutes or less. I exceeded my required mileage by a quarter mile. What the WHAT?!

If running keeps going this well I will have to give up my fun habit of making jokes about running and zombies. Hmmmmm. That would be too sad since I've held out for a year and I am a mere two weeks away from zombie season! (aiiiiiiieeeee!!!!) While I ponder that, let me say this: I was not alone at the gym at 10pm.

There were 5 other people on treadmills, 2 on stairmasters, and 2 on ellipticals. Apparently stationary bikes and rowing are just not cool after sundown, but I can report that there were two women dealing with bathing suits in the dressing room at 10:45 pm suggesting that swimming is a fine exercise choice in the dark of the night. Who are these people? Parents who can only work out at weird times? Students who are over-committed? Insomniacs? People like me whose jobs don't allow them to have a life?

From outside appearances, those people are me. They were there reading paperwork on the stairmaster. They were there with their cell phone in the drink holder. They were 30-somethings and most of them had some extra fluff and the grim look of, "I have to do this no matter what." They are my people.I joined them proudly with my iPhone-as-iPod (thank god it did not get drowned in that sink-mishap) and a run that I did mostly with my eyes closed because watching the clock inch towards 11pm while I was on a treadmill instead of tucked in bed with a book was a little horrifying.

I might have to go back late at night sometime and see if this magic late-night run effect can be reproduced. But in the meantime, it's very important that I sleep.

ways that I'm extremely lucky

I am a lucky, lucky girl. I don't always feel this way, but I am. I am unlucky in love, and I sometimes struggle at work or in my family, but I must always remember how very lucky I am. My blessings show themselves as the many wonderful, giving, generous, funny, interesting friends who are truly, truly there for me. This is always my safety net, even when I don't always love having people be, "there for me." I'm not good at asking for help, saying what I need, or accepting help, support, or even just kindness when it's offered. But I have a plethora of friends who do it anyways. And they are amazing people! I have friends here in Colorado that I work out with, sing with, and plan fun girl-outings with, or even have deep spiritual talks with. I have friends in Boston, Illinois, Florida, and New Jersey that are like extensions of my family and treat me like I'm just part of their household. I have friends who give me reality checks when I need to toughen my spine, and friends who hold me when I feel broken and miserable. I have friends who love to laugh and play, and friends who keep a serious eye on the road. I have great, amazing, funny, smart, talented, wise, selfless friends.

Although I sometimes feel that I don't have enough of the things I need, I always have more than enough love, support, fun, connection, places to stay, people who care about what is going on with me, and laughter.

I've had two very powerful  reminders of this lately. They both revolved around my very-not-happy-day last Friday. I posted something about my tears on Facebook and within a couple of hours had an outpouring of support. Two friends called me to make sure I was ok, while another asked me if he should call and one more told me later he had picked up the phone several times wanting to call and check on me, but then wasn't sure if I was still at work. One of my friends, who I consider family, texted me some love, and a reminder that he would be visiting soon - a cross country trip he will make just to have some good times with me. I got messages from friends who reminded me that the person who bullied me deserved my pity, not my anger. I had messages of compassion, and messages from people reminding me they would happily take up my cause and kick some ass for me. All told, I heard from 15 people last Friday, all within 4 hours of my post. And every message, either explicitly or implicitly said the same thing, You are great. I think well of you. Don't buy into this bad experience as being true of what you mean or who you are.

It was humbling, this massive outpouring of support. It actually made me worry that I had presented my sadness and distress as being much more dire than they were. I was not in any danger nor was I without the tools or experience to deal with the situation. It was just a very bad day at the end of a couple of weeks that were very exhausting and very emotional. It was awe-ing to see how many people came "to the rescue" when I had a bad damsel moment.

The other thing that happened is that a couple of friends immediately started making plans with me. Plans to hike, workout, call, etc. And one of my friends, who I regrettably don't get to see enough of, reached and said, "I was supposed to have a weekend away with my husband and that's not going to happen, but I'm still going up there. Wanna come?" Ummm, YES!

A couple of days of hiking, mountains, lounging at the pool, and eating tourist food seems just fine to me. What will be best of all is the time to hang with her. We have found that we have conversations that start with where one of us go the shirt we're wearing and up with talking about atheism, running, zombies, psychology, child raising, and everything in between. We laugh a lot and have conversations that make us think hard (well, I can't speak for her, but I can for me).

This break comes at a good time. I've been struggling the last couple of weeks. I don't really feel I've earned another vacation after taking time off to go to Seattle just a couple of weeks ago but somehow I need it. Even for a day. The last two weeks have been difficult and uncertain ones for me at work, in my family, and in the relationship I'm not sure if I'm having or not having with my boyfriend. I have been on the road nonstop and have worked too many extra hours, while still fretting about being behind. I have worked very hard to be in a healthy place with my family, and I think I'm there but it's work. And I feel it. And things are still very open and undecided in my relationship, with some hopeful moments and some very sad ones.

All of that has affected the things I do to process and unwind. It's been hard to get my cardio in. It's been harder to sleep. I haven't gotten as much enjoyment out of singing or cooking because it takes me too long to let go of the other things that followed me around that day to get full enjoyment out of the fun of singing and cooking. And my writing has been effected. Squeaking out a few posts in the past week has been hard, hard going. I feel I am always trying for words that are just beyond my reach. The pieces of my thinking about whatever I am writing about don't quite come together in a strong fit because I'm kind of mentally FULL right now. There isn't room for a lot else, just the things that are already on my plate.

So, as I pack to head off to the mountains, I don't think I'm taking this blog with me. This is metaphorical, of course, since I will have technology with me. What I mean is, I just want to turn down the noise on everything right now, enjoy my friend, and see where that leaves my head and heart, and then see where that leaves my eating and my body. As you can imagine, during the last couple of weeks there have been victories and defeats in that category. Instead of focusing in and relentlessly tinkering with that non stop, I'm trying to take a brief respite; a moment of reminding myself that chubby or not chubby, healthy or not, single or coupled, I am lucky. Let's see what that does for my attitude, my faith, my outlook, and my motivation.

See ya'll on the other side of a mini-cation!