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!

Inspiration

The importance of inspiration was never more clear to me than last year. I made it through my knee surgery, the physical therapy, and I finished my 365 photography project, kept up with work while taking only two weeks off, and  and turned things into my writing group. After all of that, I. Was. Tiiiiiiirrrred.

I started another 365 self-portrait year right away, and found that it was actually really really hard to keep taking interesting pictures just then. I took a sabbatical from my writing group because all of a sudden the creek was dry. I was struggling at work too, feeling that the things I was doing were sub-par and not very meaningful. Most pressingly, I found myself feeling the effects of not having been able to exercise fully for a year, and it depressed me. It made it hard to exercise. I felt slow, and uncreative, and inarticulate, and I felt hopeless about my body and powerless to fix it. I got into a rut, and it was so hard to get out of it. I had many, many weeks of paying my trainer and then not doing the workout he sent me home with.

I looked for inspiration for a long, long time. I wasn't unaware that I needed to exercise. I wasn't unaware that I needed to find my mojo again. I just didn't know where to look.

I posted notes around the house for myself saying things like, "It will feel good after you go," or "This appointment is as important as any other you make." I watched the weight loss shows and told myself, "If people who weight 500 pounds can do it, you can get your ass off the couch." I looked for classes that would get me excited about exercising. I read books about getting into the groove of writing. I tried shooting other things with my really fancy camera. Nothing.

So, I did a few things. I forgave myself for starting a 365 I didn't finish, and for not having any writing for my group. I took a vacation. And then, when I came back, I just made myself start exercising even though it wasn't and still isn't the thing that feels most fun to me most days. (I actually went running a lot on vacation, and I remember the running "assignment" I took with me and how hard it was to get it done, even with three weeks to do it and how much it pained me to not master it. So when I returned I started making exercise a big priority in my weekly schedule.)

A friend started sharing her results on the eating plan I tried to make work for me. She had lost more than 50 pounds. for the first time in a long time, I felt really excited to work on myself. And as you can see, it made me find something inside worth writing about. I changed my eating and I kept working out, and as I started losing weight, it became more interesting to me to keep working on these things. As my friend continued to lose a lot of weight, and share her process with me, I did get inspired. I measure inspiration by how excited I am to do things I that would normally make me want to burn my eyebrows off. In other words, if I am inspired, I see things differently and delayed gratification is ok.

Inspiration wasn't a flash that hit me all at once, it was a slow process of realizing that feeling better about myself was worth it to keep trying. And I still have to dig down deep to find it a lot of days. I still have days where working out is the last thing I want to do, and eating a pizza is on the top of the list. But inspiration for me means having the presence to question that and work on other habits. I'm still not finishing any of my poems or other creative writing projects. My writing is pretty much confined to work reports and this blog for now (though I have half ideas for a children's book and may write more about that in another post). I'm still wondering if I have the commitment and creativity to do another 365, so my camera is just a sometimes habit for me right now.

With all of these potholes in the road I'm on it shocks me when people tell me I'm inspiring them. It humbles me. It scares me. It makes me want to be more accountable. It feels like a gift. When friends tell me that they are journaling, that they are thinking about different things, that they are running or walking, it makes me think more about my choices, about my writing, about what I'm putting out there when I talk about the work I'm doing to find better ways to be me. It makes me think this blog is doing what I hoped it would - keeping me aimed at working on these things and thinking about what is working and what is not, but also letting me connect with others. I don't do well when isolated; it's so much better when I have opportunities to teach and learn and let the thoughts out of my head that would otherwise cycle around not really going anywhere. When I can say it out loud, or write it out, I'm forced to hear the things those words are telling me on the inside and make sense of them.

So, I want to thank some of the people that inspire me. I am inspired by my brother who has never, ever looked at anything athletic and said, "I can't do that." He just DOES it. I am impressed beyond words by my friends who keep doing 365 projects, and one in particular who just reached his 1000th consecutive day of self-portraits. His steadfastness and determination are astonishing, but he is also an impressively gorgeous photographer. I am inspired by realizing that I have friends in wheelchairs who probably wish they had the privilege to have foot cramps during a run. I am inspired by remembering myself a year ago, and all the things I couldn't do, and all the time I had already spent not being able to do things and feeling limited. I am inspired by my friend who started a blog a couple of months before me. Even though she chose to end her blog and give that time back to her family, her courageous writing, humor, and honesty showed me that blogging could be serious writing but also have a lot of self and heart. I am also inspired by another acquaintance who continues to blog and has made the courageous choice to move his family to follow his wife's career and be a stay-at-home dad for now. That shouldn't be such a remarkable set of choices, but it is, and so those choices move me; and his writing, by the way, is hilarious. I have a friend who has six kids. I knew her and babysat for them when there were half as many children, and her grace, presence, and faith are constant reminders of a place I want to achieve. She also recently decided that in addition to running her own business and raising six children she should start training and running - wow! I am I am inspired by this little girl, and the grace with which she grows past her health challenges. I'm inspired by her parents, who went through the pregnancy under a death sentence for this baby and were rewarded in the end with a different answer and hope to learn and grow with her. I am inspired by the people in my life battling addiction, and finding the courage to be more honest than their addictions have allowed them to be in the past. Even when I am angry and hurt and disappointed, I admire so much my boyfriend for his ability to accept people for what they are, to be humble and loving, and to forgive. I am moved beyond words by my friend and her journey as a wonderful mom to her two boys. She has faced down more demons and disappointments than I can fathom, and somehow keeps a smile on her face and a lightness in her heart whenever we interact, and still has enough left over to reach out to me with sincere concern and advice. Its amazing an heartwarming, and it is clear to me that she has amazing challenges and amazing gifts, and revels in them daily.

And on a regular basis, when I get in the pool with my good friend, I remember three years ago when I had spotted her working out with my trainer and that was all I knew about her. I remember finding myself on a treadmill next to her a few months later, and trying to think how to start a conversation with her without it being an awkward, "Soooo, you work out with Nick too?" kind of interjection. And once we started talking, I wondered why I had ever worried. She is warm, approachable, and funny. As we saw each other more and more at "the changing of the guard" (the point at the end of her workout when I would arrive and be stretching and she would be finishing up) we enjoyed each others company more and more. We worked out together a couple of times, and when I heard about her duathalon, I was so inspired and excited that I said, "Wow, you should do a tri next year!" She quietly said, "Oh, no, I don't swim."

I said, "What do you mean?" It was hard for me to process this, not just because I love to swim so much, but because she is so incredibly strong and fit. I had heard how she decided to conquer her issue with heights by jumping out of a plane, and was so impressed by how she identified something that was holding her back and sought out a way to dominate it. So, we talked about it and I just casually said, "Well, if you ever want to swim with me, let me know." She vehemently shook her head. and I thought that was that.

So, a few months later when she approached me and said, almost shyly (for her), "I'm signed up for a class. A beginning swimming class. After I'm done can I swim with you and get some pointers?" I was so excited (and impressed with her courage). She had learned a lot in her class, but we started from the basics. Here was a woman who had gone through decades of her life not wanting to get in the water and having had traumatic experiences with water getting into the pool with me.  She went from being her usual bubbly, goofy self to being defensive and guarded, so I knew she was really feeling a lot of fear. We started not being able to make it across the pool, and within a week had two strokes that she could swim to make to from wall to wall. Now, 7 months later, she got in the pool, swam 300 meters, and 100 of it was the stroke she least likes and feels the least confident in. It reminds me that at all times in life, people can choose to change, and grow and take on new challenges. She keeps on thanking me for my help, but I don't think she realizes how much she inspires me. She gets in that water every time feeling concerned and unsure, and does real laps and makes real leaps in her ability every time. This weekend, she said, "That's all? Can I do more?" This would have been unthinkable even 2 months ago, and 7 months ago she was PISSED when I even suggested she do the stroke she most struggles with.

I feel proud to have been able to be a part of this transformation, but I also feel lucky to get this boost every time we swim. She doesn't understand how much she gives to me. I need inspiration, because like I said, I don't get hit with inspiration in the religious sense. I don't wake up and feel it in my marrow, at least not right now. I need to locate it every day, and some days I have to look deeper under the bed than others. Some days I don't find it at all, but just make myself do it anyways.

I hope over time that inspiration and belief will stick a little closer to me. I hope that I will keep finding sources and reminders of inspiration. I hope that the creek will fill up again and I will relocate my creativity. But for now, it's enough to know I have enough people and things to point to that keep me going. Thank you to those people who give me every day reminders. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

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.

Speak up

Helllloooooo! Hello out there!

I have well over 500 page views at this point. Each day, it surprises me to see how many posts have been read. I started this thinking that a few people might sometimes read my blog. For the most part I needed an outlet to rediscover some of my creativity, a place where I could "think out loud" and some ways to hold myself accountable.

I've gotten well over 500 page views in the month since I've started writing, so I know this blog is no longer just for me. For the most part, people have responded by telling me on Facebook or in other ways that they like it and that it speaks to them, or that they like my voice or writing style. And those are always nice things to hear. Sometimes I'll be talking to a friend and they'll say something that refers to my blog, or that assumes knowledge from what I've written rather than anything I've said to them. Those are good moments because in those moments I know I have readers.

What I don't know is which posts, which topics, really reach out to people or grab readers. What do you wonder more about? What do you want to hear less about? What questions do I leave unanswered that you'd like to know more about? Speak up! I want to hear from y'all.

(And thank you so much for reading. It really does help and humble me.)

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.

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!

loyalty

I should call this post "to the bitter end," because that is too often the consequence of my brand of loyatly.

I have mentioned before that I am loyal to a fault, and sometimes to my own detriment. When I think about it, I'm not exactly sure where the kind of fierce loyalty I practice comes from. I don't have memories of some childhood lesson learned, or of this being presented as a value in the home I grew up in in words or deeds. If anything, I saw some pretty strong examples of reasons why sticking to someone or something can be more difficult than it's worth. Nevertheless, here I sit as one of the most determinedly steadfast people I know. I stick by people even when it makes no sense. I stick by people who have hurt me, or done things I don't condone. I have stuck by people and my caring for them even as they go to jail or make horrible mistakes they cannot take back. I have stuck by friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, and family when they have not earned it I have stuck by jobs even when I am frustrated or not making enough. I do this, and meanwhile do a killer job at whatever it is even when I think I deserve better. On a near daily basis I support policies that I disagree with out of loyalty and professionalism. I stuck it out in school even when my adviser abused me and stole from me, and when I realized that she had treated other students just as badly if not worse. Moreover, I finished my master's in her lab and thus ran her lab and advised her students for her.

Once I'm in, I'm all in.

I was talking with a good friend recently and he said, "I'm totally committed. You'd think it was a good thing but it's not." And I know just exactly how that feels.

I gain so much from this. I have gained the ability to forgive and move on (though it takes me awhile). I have kept friends I would have lost if I was faster to close the door. I have the ability to not give up on someone where other people would walk out and not look back.I assume my children will one day benefit from the deep value I have to commit.

If I had to guess, I would say this latching on and not giving up is about a few things. First, I am bad at giving up. I don't quit. I don't give in. I had a client a few years ago who made it her mission to make things very hard on the company, and since I was the representative of the company, her evil quest was directed at me. I remember saying to my bosses boss when she had made her most recent war volley that, "She picked the wrong person if she thinks this means I will give up. Because I will just dig my heels in harder." It took me forever to leave grad school, even though I had every reason to.  (and I didn't exactly quit so much as I left at an appropriate juncture) It took me an extra year to get my black belt, and I just kept at it. I grew up with the message in my ear that math wasn't my thing. So, of course, after picking the one college where taking a math class wasn't required (no grades, tests, pre-set majors or required courses at Hampshire College) I "minored" in math. I don't give up.

The other issue is that I see what is good in almost everyone I meet, even people who really friggen annoy me. I see the good in the person who bags my groceries with tomatoes on the bottom of the bag. And I have a nice conversation with him. I see the good in the cop who pulls me over out of boredom (and says, "you were almost going over the speed limit."). I see the good in the family member who abandons me and my affection. I look for the better side hiding underneath the good in the friend who gave me a hard time. I see the good in the boyfriend who was pathologically not there for me and expected me to give, and give, and give. (When he left me in the town I had moved to for his benefit days after my father had died claiming somehow that that loss was more about his unresolved family feelings than mine, I stopped seeing the good . . . six months later. We don't refer to him by his given name anymore.)

It's hard for me to close the door on anything I have invested in - a job, a friendship, a degree, a person I love. For me, I call this the "used car problem." See, I've only ever owned used cars. and some of them were more used than others. When you get a great deal on a used car, you have to also plan that some of the money you saved will go into keeping the car alive. I'm also pretty on top of regular maintenance. So, at some point, I would look at each car and think, "How much more money will I put into you?" On my last car before this one, I replaced the battery, hoses, two tires, brakes and two drums,  an important component of the electrical system, and water pump. That added up to more than I had paid for it in the first place. Of course, it didn't happen all at once. I invested a little bit at a time over 5 years. Somewhere in the third year I had the thought, "Do I really want to put this work into the car?" But then thought, "well, I've invested tires and brakes already, so I might as well pay the $300 for this repair."

It happens a little at a time, and it totally is the good money-after-bad issue. Only, with people, it's hard to see when the money turns bad. Well, for me anyways. If I don't give up on things, it seems just plain wrong to walk away from people.

The problem, of course, comes when people like my friend and I throw our lot in for the long haul and then get taken for everything we're worth. It's easy for someone who doesn't intend to be manipulative to take advantage of the capacity for commitment, and the large amount of loyalty. For someone who is needy, demanding, or a "taker" it's even easier. And let's just say that I have had my arm twisted professionally in the past.

When I allow this to happen, sometimes I get to keep someone or something in my life that deserves my investment, and sometimes I end up having to file a restraining order (true story). I am getting better at finding better used cars to begin with. My standards are going up. But my investments go up too.

I am working really hard these days to examine all my loyalties and see which ones best serve me. I am investigating deep, deep down to think if the people, places, jobs, and activities I put so much of myself into to see if I get enough out of it. I have found myself recently saying at work, "well, there's only one of me so I had to _____." I need to think this way more often.

There's only one of me. And I only get one today. One life. One heart. I need to . . . if not protect it,  at least be very choosey. Otherwise I could give too much of myself to things that don't work for me. I feel really sad when I think about the time I gave away in my 20's to things that didn't get me where I want to be. I know where I want to be now, so I am looking very carefully.