Last weekend, I did something silly-but perfectly in character. I whined and moaned a few months ago about my stress fracture and how it was wrecking my life. Well, once the denial and bargaining stages of runner grief subsided, I … Continue reading
I am frighteningly close to being categorized in my “Late Thirties”. Hell, when I input my stats on the machines at the gym, I now have to kick the median “35″ up a notch instead of down. The thought of leaving mid thirties and hitting late thirties can be scary. I saw this buzzfeed article recently and it made me think about what I’ve learned in my thirties.
It’s OK not to finish what you’ve started. I used to read every page of the magazine, watch every episode of the TV show, finish a book that I didn’t like because I had some misplaced, grim sense of follow through. But you know what? We know what we like now. If I don’t want to read one or two articles in my Entertainment Weekly, I don’t. If I’m not enjoying a show, I cancel my subscription. If the book doesn’t hook me, it goes back. Time is precious. And though there’s still lots of things I want to learn how to do, I’ve quit trying to shove a square peg in a round hole.
You can stay home if you want. There was a time when I felt like I had to be out, be seen, do all the things! And you know what? Geez, it was exhausting. If, at the end of the day, I want to sit on my couch and spend time with my dog…well, he’s a pretty darn good listener. And you know what? It makes going out more special.
A bad workout isn’t the end of the world. Admittedly, this one is more of a work in progress. But a few years ago, if I’d had an off day at the gym and had to cut my workout 10-15 minutes short, I’d try to make it up after work, hit it harder next time, or even not eat something to compensate for the calories not worked off. But fitness is cumulative. If a workout that I normally can sweat right through brings me to my knees, there’s probably a reason. Maybe you’re fighting off a cold you don’t know about. Maybe you slept bad last night, you’re still sore, or any number of things. Tomorrow’s a new day, and a bad workout is still better than none at all.
Your style is your own. I’ve seen some of the clothes in stores lately, and they frighten me. I will not be wearing acid washed jeans, overalls, or any shoes with a pointy heel. It doesn’t work for me, and I won’t pretend it does. See above about shoving a square peg in a round hole. But my point is, you’ve found what works for you, and you’ve come to accept that just because something is trendy, doesn’t mean you have to do it.
You don’t have to keep your home exactly like your mom/grandma/whomever did. I keep my home in a pretty decent state of tidiness. Is everything dust free? No. Are my baseboards scrubbed clean, windows glistening in the sun, and all dishes done at all times? No. But my husband and I have come to a place where we’re happy, things are tidy and clean, and I don’t have to worry my epitaph will read “Here lies Laura, her home was spotless”. If I want to read a book instead of dusting my bedroom, that’s fine.
Treat. Yo. Self. You’ve learned what makes you happy. Do that. Do it as often as you can. My evening bath is literally my happiest point in the day. It’s me time. Find your me time, your happy place, and be there as much as possible. Life’s too short to deny yourself a delicious dessert if it’s there, a nice facial scrub that makes you feel pretty, or whatever the hell floats your boat.
Failure is OK. I am really into the idea of woodworking. Like, refinishing tables, building things, whatever. My first refinished table? Not that great. But I’m learning. And in learning it’s OK to fail. It’s also OK to try something new and hate it. I tried to get all crafty and make our own coasters, and other related pinterest projects.
Some Most of them did not turn out pretty. I tried Zumba once. Didn’t like it. DID try becoming an instructor at my gym and loved it. Trying and failing is OK; how else do you know what you like?
Your palate is an ever evolving delight. Foods you used to hate will suddenly be delicious. I can’t even list all the things that within the last 5-10 years I discovered I enjoyed. I used to have some irrational vendetta against pears & watermelon. Love them now. Still hate tropical fruit though, but I try it every so often! My wine of choice has gone from dessert wine to moscato to riesling, on through until I drink Merlot now. I would never have ate mussels a few years ago. Now? One of our special treats for dinner. I could go on and on, but to sum it up: give peas a chance. Just because you once hated something, give it a fresh try. You’ll be surprised at what you discover about yourself.
I’m sure there’s so many other nuggets of wisdom I could give you, but that should be enough to reassure you all that I’m still alive out here, finding gifs of puppies and spouting my own personal version of wisdom. Life’s good, and I’m trying to enjoy as much of it as possible right now. If that means my blogging is sporadic at best, so be it.
I’ve been going through another one of my famous career crisis lately. I have so many fantastic women in my life who are amazing at their jobs. And these aren’t just any jobs-I’ve got friends who manage communications for an entire state, run PR for major companies, run non profits, and have some pretty fantastic distinctions after their names. And the times that I fall into the comparison trap, I’m aware I come up way short.
I realize that there’s different types of success. I’ve got a good group of friends and family, a happy marriage, I’m in shape, and I’ve got a couple of furry dogs who love me. I may be missing that ideal career, but at my part time job at the YMCA, I get to influence people’s healthy choices. It’s great to be that boost of inspiration for someone to do one more rep, come to class when they’re not wanting to, or add some height to their box jumps. So on these times when I fall into the comparison trap, I try to remember these things and realize my success is measured differently than others-because it’s mine.
But it also makes me think about something else: why do we hold college immediately after high school as the standard education path? I can tell you that if I was an undergrad right now, I’d have taken a completely different path than I did. I’d have stuck to my guns, buckled down, and gotten that dietetics or food science degree. I would have had the life experience to know that quitting something because it’s “too hard” doesn’t get you what you want out of life. My little brother is putting off college until he’s sure of what he wants to do. In the meantime, he’s trying a few jobs, taking a few trips, and learning what he likes and doesn’t like. My husband is back in school, following his dream of astrophysics. Not what he was doing 10 years ago when he went to college fresh out of high school. Maybe the “gap year” thing common in Europe is a good idea.
I mean really, most of us look back at our 18 year old selves and wonder how we managed to tie our shoes. I think about that girl exactly half a lifetime ago (seriously-I’m 36) and she had so much to learn. She had no idea who she was, who she wanted to be. She got to college and just wanted to hide. I was terrified to speak up in class, wore big baggy clothes to blend in, and worked as many hours as possible to make the fact that I had no friends a non issue-I wouldn’t have had time for them anyway! I abandoned the degree I’d thought I wanted for years because I didn’t really look into it at all beforehand. I had no idea how much chemistry went into dietetics. Ask me now, and I’d say “of course-and that sounds wicked interesting!” But then, the only college chemistry experience I had involved the biggest lecture hall I’d ever been in and a professor out to prove what we DIDN’T know instead of showing us what we could know. I caved. I ran. I didn’t realize that the classes would get smaller, that not all professors were like that.
I’m not saying we all need to wait until our 30′s to go to college-in the scheme of life, that’s unrealistic. By 30, we think we’re going to have it all together-married, kids, career well on its path…yeah. And then we get there and realize A) we have no idea what we’re doing and B) as much as we don’t know now, we REALLY didn’t know anything as bratty 18 year olds. I think a gap year would have really benefited me. Take a trip, see the world, hell-pay rent. Find your interests, your hobbies, the subjects you enjoy. Maybe the entire education model needs revisited, hell, I don’t know. But I think that pushing people to go to college straight out of high school is going to end up with a very disillusioned work force when those people spend 10 or so years in a career and realize it’s not at all what they want to be doing.
The other interesting thing about having a career in this day and age is that maybe, just maybe, one of your hobbies can become your income. Blog enough, say the right things to the right people at the right time, and it can become all that you do. Enjoy knitting, and open an Etsy shop full of cute hand crafted items. Like cooking? Start making craft beer and artisan cheese. There’s room for all of those things, and the market is growing. So never stop learning. Never stop exploring. Pursue your interests, go back to school, try new things. Teach an old dog new tricks-it could change the direction of your life.
Thursdays always make me feel unsettled. This morning was no exception-I should have known the tone of the day when I changed my clothes five times before I finally got out the door. Got to work to find out that something I’d missed a setting on yesterday STILL wasn’t right. Super frustrating. Threw myself a mini pity party, took some ibuprofen to quell the migraine in my brain, and went about my day. And bit by bit, it got better-until I got to the gym. I’d been debating running vs using my current fave machine, the AMT trainer. Discovered when I got there that I’d forgotten a pretty important element in my gym bag this morning-socks! UGH. NO WAY I could run, but I could still use the AMT. And the only one that was left open for me was the one whose TV doesn’t work. ARGH! Good thing I’d brought my phone with me-locked in the wifi, queued up some hulu, and killed that workout. Took a brief shower, headed back to work, and kicked the rest of the day in the butt.
Tonight was my night to make dinner, and I could NOT decide what to make. Poked around pinterest and settled on this recipe. I was surprised how quickly it came together, and we were not disappointed with it! Light, easy, broccoli & shrimp.
NO pics from my attempt; we were too busy eating! Now, Jeff’s over in his office doing his homework and I’m sitting out in the living room, blogging and surfing the web until I’m tired enough to go to bed. I’ve had a lot of worry lately-Jeff’s in school so we get less quality time together, we’re dealing with a few financial setbacks, and things at work have been stressful. When you’re a worrier, sometimes the line between what’s real and what’s imagined gets a little blurry. You start out worried that maybe you won’t have extra money for your favorite treats, and before you know it, you’re convinced you will get your car repossessed. That’s a bit drastic, but you get my point-your mind runs away with things and makes them far darker than they need to be. Times like these make me remind myself to center. I’m starting small-a reminder to breathe when I need it, permission not to work out so hard it makes me puke (last week, seriously-but that’s a whole different story), a few yoga poses during commercials on TV or hulu. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get myself to a yoga class sometime soon.
Mike! Obligatory gif for closing-this sums up how I’ve felt at work lately:
I have a weird schedule at work during the school year. My team is small, just 3 people. And none of us like staying till 5 (there’s an 8-5 shift or a 7:30-4:30 shift at our office). So during the Summer, one guy on the team stays late so he can carpool with his wife during the school year. During the school year, the other guy and I split the late shift. I’m a pain in the ass, because Tues & every other Wed I teach a class at the YMCA that requires I leave around 4:20 to make my 4:30 class. So I stay late Mon, Thurs, and every other Friday, and he takes the off days. Anywho, I’m also the one that reliably arrives to work the earliest, around 7. We’re not allowed to have overtime, so this means some day during the week I need to take a long lunch, leave early, come in late, whatever.
This past Thursday, I took advantage of a holiday where my Mom works to meet her for an afternoon hike at a state park. We got a great workout in and walked for over 2 hours, and had some great conversations. One topic flowed into the next, and we ended up divulging our “secret” interests in mortality. We both admitted to having done web searches for old photos of death, serial killers, dead celebrities, even a morbid interest in 9/11. I watched a documentary on the 9/11 attacks while I was recovering from my last surgery. My Mom told a story of how her second husband could not wrap his head around her interest in serial killers-she used to have TONS of books on Ted Bundy, the Green River Killer, and on and on.
It’s not a unique fascination. There’s a crime section of every newspaper, there’s Court TV, that crime procedural dramas last forever on reruns and the like. I know I had a fleeting interest in Sociology and Psychology when in college, though I settled for Communication Studies. The way we all relate to each other, the way our brains work, is a mystery to most of us. Most books we read or shows we watch have some semblance of relatability to us. We’ve all gotten cut off in traffic and yelled at the driver in front of us. I know I’m curious how that fleeting “hey, asshole!” moment in my brain can be the thing that snaps another person. What makes someone snap and actually take another person’s life?
I can remember where I was when we heard about Columbine. When 9/11 happened, everyone at work stopped. We gathered in break rooms, called loved ones in NYC when we could, and in my case, I remember my boyfriend at the time stopping by during his evening shift as a delivery driver just to give me a hug and connect because that day left us all feeling disconnected. Hearing about a mother snapping and killing her children, someone killing for love, for anger, for money….the reasons are multiple and I don’t presume to know much about them. But they fascinate me. And that brings me to the other part of the equation.
I’m also reading the book “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” right now. It’s a book written by a girl who was fascinated with death as a child, especially after seeing a young child plummet to her death in a mall when she was 10. As a result, she worked in a crematorium for several years and wrote the book to relate her experience. It’s fascinating, I started it yesterday when I had a lunch date with myself. Does anyone else ever do that? Periodically, I get a craving to have a meal in public with a good book. I can’t explain why, but it just brings me pleasure. I think it’s because it seems decadent for one person to go out for a meal on their own. Anyway, I had a solo pho meal and it was delicious. The decision to bike there and back, however…don’t bike on a bellyful of pho, take it from me. Anyway, I digress. She makes a lot of points in the book about how society has moved from leaving their dead on the proverbial curb to hiding them in hospitals, mortuaries, and crematories. Also, I think all of us can remember the first time we saw a dead body. I don’t know that I remember my first dead body, but I remember the most important, and I saw him twice: my Grandpa. When I was about 12, he had a quadruple bypass. We all went to see him while in recovery, and I’d never in my life seen a human look so grey. It was terrifying. When he did pass away, around 20 years later, I did NOT want to see his prepared body. I’m of the mindset that what makes you, you, goes away when you die. I don’t want to be prepared. I don’t want to be on display for anyone. That’s not me. I’m already gone. But anyway, with Grandpa, it confounded friends and family that I Did NOT want to see him. People tried to get me to go up to the casket at the viewing, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t need to see him like that. At the church for the funeral, they had him at the back, and thus I couldn’t avoid it forever. It was so disconcerting to me-like a wax figurine. I don’t know how that sight could possibly be comforting to anyone. It’s just so strange to me.
This brings me to another point, question, whatever. Have you spoken with your loved ones about what happens when you die? Jeff knows, my Mom knows, even my little brother knows that I want cremated. I believe the exact phrase is “you burn me, don’t you ever put me in the ground”. I feel a bit strongly about this. I don’t want a gravesite. I’ve never seen the gravesite of my father. It’s in Texas, he passed when I was 5, and I just don’t feel the need to go touch a granite plaque where his body is. Grave Sites bring a whole different discussion for me, but I’ll save that for another time. Jeff and I aren’t sure what will happen if we die of old age, but we sure have a plan for calamitous disease. If one of us passes at a young age, the other is to travel the world and sprinkle a little in Italy, a little on this mountaintop, a little at that ocean. Hold some for yourself if that’s what you need. But make sure one way or another, we get to take all the trips we wanted to take together.
OK, so I like lunch on my own, books about death, and I google serial killers. Indulge me, friends: what’s your secret interest that nobody knows about? Make me feel less weird. And, to indulge our friend Mike, here’s a light hearted gif to bring my blog…wait for it…back from the dead! HA! OK, but it’s actually kinda sad. See, I’m convinced our dogs will NEVER DIE but Jeff doesn’t share my beliefs. We’ve had discussions about what kind of dogs we’d “like next” (pshaw, because Foster WILL LIVE FOREVER AND YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE) and we tentatively agreed upon a Shiba Inu. You know, of Dog-e-coin fame. Anywho, here’s proof that they’re just as smart as my Border Collie and we’ll never be free of the smart dog reign which is upon us:
I’ve taken a bit of a blog hiatus lately. I seem to keep saying the same things, so I wanted to wait until I had something to say. And I still have a few half finished blogs just waiting to … Continue reading
I have quite a few half-finished posts in my drafts, waiting for my critical eye to finish them off. I just read this story in our local paper, though, and had to throw in a quick two cents.
The story basically goes like this: 15 year old boy and 66 year old man are both using our bike path system last week in the evening. Boy looks down instead of out in front of him while cycling, doesn’t notice he’s drifted out of his lane, collides with 66 year old man. By Monday, the man had died from his injuries.
How many times do we all do the same thing? You get lost in your thoughts, jam out to a good song, or just space out for a second and shake yourself back to reality to notice you’re not where you should be. Or even rounding a corner or curve in the road with more momentum than you were prepared for, and narrowly avert disaster? This could happen to anyone, and I just feel for both families involved. It’s just a solid reminder to turn the volume down a bit, pay attention to where you are, and realize that whether you’re piloting a bicycle, car, or your fine self, you are resposible for more than just your own life when you bring momentum into the mix. Stay aware, stay in control, stay alive, people. It only takes a second to prevent or ensure disaster, which way would you rather go?
Vacation recap blogs are daunting. To try and sum up everything you did, saw, and ate almost always guarantees you’ll forget something, someone, whatever. I’m quite certain I will forget a few things, but as a highlight reel, we’ll focus mostly on the main attraction of our trip to Chicago: the food.
The first night we got there, we headed up to Wicker Park starving and looking for food. After walking around a bit, we found a cute little place serving Bahn Mi (for Jeff) and Pho (for Laura). I ate that soup like I’d been starving for days. I am pretty sure on a normal day, the place wouldn’t have stood out in my memory at all, but factor in hunger power, and it was the best damn pho I’ve ever had. We then met up with a friend who had moved to Chicago recently and stopped in to one of Jeff’s favorite pubs. It was a bit of a hipster haven, but did have this delightful drawing on the back of the bathroom wall:
Thursday, we headed straight to Jeff’s favorite coffee shop in town, the Wormhole. Specializing in old school nintendo tile artistry on the walls, a delorean on display, and awesome coffee and pastries, it totally hit the spot. I got sconed, Jeff had a croissant, and we just hung out and read our respective books & magazines. I love doing that on vacation-we made another trip to the wormhole on a day we didn’t feel like doing much of anything, and spent some more time just hanging out without the guilt of “I should get home and tend to the yard a bit”. After our coffee, we hit the Shedd aquarium, where we made friends with this turtle:
And then realized we were starving. Off to Eataly! If you’ve never been, it gets a bit overwhelming to me, but it basically has all the foods you’d expect to find in Italy, as well as the supplies to make it yourself. We hung out at the meat and cheese section, and had some delicious wine and lunch:
I think this may have actually been the first time I’ve had a fig, aside from the occasional fig newton consumed after school when I was 7. But the honey drizzle, apricots, almonds, and figs may actually have been my favorite part of this meal. LOVE them with the crusty bread. This made us realize we totally needed to up our game for our own charcuterie nights at home! That evening, we cruised up to a recommended dinner spot, Miller’s Pub, and found it…OK. My dinner was unremarkable, and I think that I’ll remember that place only as the spot Jeff drank absinthe at.
Friday, we had breakfast at a Chicago chain that I had gotten a few gift certificates to some years back-I was already feeling the sting of spending all the money on vacation, so this helped. Headed over to the Field Museum, where we saw more taxidermied animals than I’d ever thought possible. After we got our science on, we decided to try “Little Goat” for lunch. It’s the less formal restaurant from a Top Chef winner in Chicago. I had a Greek salad, Jeff had an amazing looking burger, and we shared some fried pickles. I really enjoyed it-one of my favorite meals on the trip. That night, it was cold and drizzly so we just chilled at our condo and got some subpar Chinese delivered.
Saturday, we had breakfast at another of Jeff’s faves in “Little Italy”-Stax. Gotta love a place that has sweats as part of their uniform, right? After that, we peeked through the stained glass museum and then splurged on an architecture cruise of the city. Our guide was great and we learned a ton.
That night, we had some British fare at Owen & Engine and then took in a star wars burlesque show. It was exactly as crazy as you’re imagining. Honestly, even someone with a casual knowledge of Star Wars could appreciate it. This was our latest night and the people we encountered on the transportation home were quite…varied.
Sunday was dim sum day! Headed over to Chinatown and ended up at the exact restaurant my friend Molly and I had been to 2 years prior. Everything was divine except for the ill-fated “beef balls”-texturally we just couldn’t handle it. So both times I’ve been there, we had one dish we didn’t care for and everything else was delicious. This was the afternoon we meandered around Wicker Park, hung at the coffee shop, and just slowed down a bit. Dinner was some AMAZING tacos at Antique Taco-I’d recommend that place to anyone. Shrimp tacos mademe regret my decision to share with Jeff, as I wanted them all to myself!
So all in all, we had a great vacation. I think, for Chicago, we may have been there a bit longer than we needed. And I reinforced that I’m a creature of habit, and really thrive best in my little bubble of work, gym, weekend lazy, repeat. I think we’re all that way to some degree-but I have no problem admitting I cling to my routine a bit more than most!
SO much to tell everyone. Not enough time at this moment to do it. This means word vomit for you. Sorry I’m not sorry.
I confess that….I’m pretty sad to admit I think I can cross the half marathon I’m signed up for in November off my list. I was supposed to stay off my shin and either crutch walk for 4 weeks. I stayed off for about 2 and then reset the clock by running twice in 3 days and wrecked my leg. So I’m 1 week and 2 days into recovery. We did burpees, jump squats, and curtsy lunges in the Boot Camp I taught tonight. A twinge during each lunge turned into pain walking upstairs and ultimately walking at all tonight. So there’s 3 weeks left before I can even try to run again, and the race is November 9th. Realistically, I could probably try, but would it be a good idea? Nope. Sad panda, smart girl.
I confess that…our week in Chicago “Changed Me”. Travel blog and inspiration blog forthcoming, but the gist is this: every time we go to a museum, it starts. I feel sad. Jeff reminds me of all our friends in sciency professions and their accomplishments, and I start to feel inadequate. And then I whine about it on Facebook. But you know what? It wouldn’t hold my interest. I thought I’d be an archaologist when I was like 12, but who didn’t? ESPECIALLY us ladies of a certain “Jurassic Park during our tween years” age. Weather patterns, water conservation, and related sciency fields would never have held my attention. The career I wanted to pursue, bailed, and have regretted ever since? Dietetics. THIS is my passion. Blogging. Helping, The only science that ever held my attention was the science of food. Now that I’m a fully formed adult, it’s even more so, but with experience to back it up. I’d like to know what happens to food at certain temperatures. I’d like to understand the chemical reaction that makes bread rise. I’d like to know how to pair spices to create the best dinner ever. So what the hell is my problem? Because at the same time I’m lamenting my perceived inadequacy, I’m also wishing I could just be happy being a good barista, bartender, or the like. I’d enjoy walking away from work each day knowing I did the best job I could do. I made 20 coffees, cleaned the shelves, left my workplace a better place for the next guy. That I could walk in, focus on a task, do it well, and then walk out with no lingering thoughts about a solution for client A. To me, the most menial tasks are the most rewarding sometimes. So what the hell is my deal? Whatever it is, I need to find a way to be happy within my current job, because it and I are not going anywhere.
I confess that…I love vacation, but I am SO glad to be home. Blog forthcoming re: packing for vacations. I SO packed wrong. Not terrible, but got down to the uncomfortable, the wrong-for-the-weather, and the impractical with way too many days left. The last few days of vacation, I missed our dogs, our tv time in the basement, and my routine more than I probably should have. Hey, I’m human. It happens. Having fun in a new city lasts X amount of time until it either needs to become routine or I need to get back to what is mine. This weekend has been the best thing for regrouping, cleaning up the house, getting settled back in to my normal routine, and stocking back up our pantry.
I confess that…I’m really excited to enter “crock pot season”. It’s almost that magic time that we trade off duties at the Anderson house and i take over some cooking so Jeff can focus on his studies. I’m pretty good at baking, casserole type dishes, and surprisingly-Asian food. But a basic grilled meat and vegetable side somehow escape me. In walked the crock pot. Throw it together and forget it? All of the yes. I don’t really know why we use crock pots more in Winter than Summer, when really it makes more sense in hot weather-no need to heat up the kitchen. But the hearty, soup-y, casserole type meals that come out of the crock pot are more suited to winter warm-your-innards eating. Sundays are a great day to use crock pot recipes-if you’re anything like me, you’re busy cleaning and running errands all day, only to look up at 8:00 and realize you’re starving. Hence, this recipe. Taco stew is one of our favorites. Easy to modify to make more spicy, thicker, brothier, whatever you like. It’s in my belly right now, and I’m a happy girl.
I confess that…every so often, I engage in a little ‘light stalking”. I found out the other day that my ex found his now-wife as the next girl he dated after me. Consider me a “Good Luck Chuck” if you will. But, anyway, dirty little secrets aside, my point is this: I really enjoy being able to keep up with friends via Facebook that otherwise I would have just lost touch with. One of the girls I went to a very small high school with but haven’t seen in 15+ years? One of my BFF’s on facebook, as we now share a sense of humor and more interests than some of the girls I see day to day. It’s great, and it gives me insight to a wide variety of lifestyles other than my own. Hell, with all these friends posting baby videos, pictures, and milestones I have no need to adopt my own-a simple facebook posting is all the baby fix I need, without those pesky 4:00 am feedings.
I confess that…I’m kind of excited for “new” tv to start back up again. Mostly because I can have my hulu running on my second monitor and quasi-watch most of my favorite shows while also being productive as hell. But it’ll be nice to watch new stuff instead of re-watching Lost and old seasons of Top Chef. Yeah, I may be a bit predictable-but I have good taste, right? Nope. I also watch America’s Next Top Model, Survivor, anything remotely associated with Tim Gunn, and most procedural dramas. Hey, I was a single girl for a long time and old habits die hard. Don’t hold my love for CSI against me, kthxbai?
I confess that….I could confess all night. SO many hidden facets to this girl. I’ll save the rest for another time, though. It’s not really all that late and I’m still ready to watch this episode of Boardwalk Empire (our new obsession) and fall asleep far earlier than I probably should. Hey, married life is wild, what can I say? OH, yeah, gotta end with this. I drank the majority (OK ALL) of a pot of coffee this morning. On our way to this month’s play of our season’s tickets…I may have looked like good old Bobby Hill:
That run I was crowing about Monday? Yeah, it may have wrecked me. If your doctor tells you NOT to run for a month, maybe you shouldn’t think “I’m a ruuner, I’ll know when I can get back at it” or something similar. Maybe you should not fucking run for a month, And if you do, and it feels OK, maybe running 3 days later is pushing your luck. Because if you ran 4 miles Friday, and Monday you run 5, but that last mile feels “a little tweaky” on your shin, that’s not good. And if you walk a mile with your husband after work and you’re noticeably limping at the end when you normally run 35 miles per week, that’s really bad.
It leads to you realizing you’re an idiot. It makes you realize that taking your running shoes on vacation is not a good idea. It makes you realize that running along Lake Michigan isn’t going to happen this year. It makes you realize you actually have an injury. It makes you question that half marathon you’re signed up for 2 months from now. It makes you desperately cross train in hopes of keeping cardio strength, fitness, and weight in check.
It also frees you. Your running shoes are staying home. Your vacation is about exploring a city with your husband instead of sneaking in a 6 mile run before he’s ready to start sightseeing in the morning. Your vacation is full of walks, and food, and fun. The frantic part desperately trying to fit in exercise will be gone. And though it’s terrifying, it’s damn sure freeing.
Moral of the story? Listen to your doctor. If the pain was so bad you went to the doctor on a Saturday, and then followed up with the xray place the following Monday, and shoved crutches in your armpits in between, AND looked for a cane half heartedly at Goodwill because your dr told you so…then maybe don’t run for a month. And then, as he said, the counter resets every freaking time you do. Maybe you just ruined your chances of running that half marathon you signed up for in November. Maybe that DOUBLE half marathon weekend you were thinking of being a badass and doing is off the table. Maybe you were basically a running novice, and ran 6 months straight, 30+ miles each week, and it caught up with you. Suck on that, runner chutzpah.
And just because I can’t end a post without some hilarity, it was pre vacation night at our house. Which generally means it’s also pizza night. And I’d like to imagine Duncan a little bit like this: