I'm not sure how I feel about being home. I am happy that I don't have to get up at the crack every morning and leave my house sometimes before my daughter even wakes up, but it's taking me some time to be okay with that. Believe me, not working is way better than working. But for someone who's worked consistently for 14 years, save for 10 weeks around Leah's birth, it's strange that I'm not working.
1-I feel lazy. I guess because I am such a big proponent for working. I see people complaining about not having money or not feeling important, and I'm like, Duh, then get a job. Problem solved. I don't know why I judge value by whether one works or not, but for some reason I feel like I'm lazy or less of a person right now because I'm not working. And not actively looking for work. And have pretty much made up my mind that I won't be working again until November.
2-I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. Clearly I shouldn't have free time, right? I should pack my days with laundry, dusting, and vacuuming, and then I should pack my afternoons with bike rides, park visits, and playdates, and I should know what I'm making for dinner at 9 a.m. so that the meat can defrost, and I should always be in a good mood because hey, the stress of working is now gone, and, well, is this right? Am I on the right track here? Because if so, then staying home is sorta just as stressful as not staying home. Clearly, I've missed something...huh?
3-I am very concerned about us paying our bills for the next five months. We've never lived without my salary, and I'm pretty much putting our near future in Greg's hands and I am an enormous control freak. So, this is very hard. When I am bringing home the money, I know how much is coming in and when and where it's going to go. And now there's significantly less than that, and I am nervous.
4-If there is not enough money to pay the bills, we are pretty much SOL since there's a very good chance that I couldn't even get a job if I wanted one since I'm 6.5 months pregnant. So, there's that.
Ok, so other than that, I think I like being home. I already feel a lot more laid back and I can already see a difference in my relationship with Leah. I am looking forward to the summer and the time we'll be together.
And I'm feeling a lot more grateful towards Greg. I know not every woman has this opportunity, and I would like to really take advantage of it.
So, for now, I'm using May to get the baby's room ready, declutter my house, and clean every nook and cranny, since Leah's still in school full time.
And as for the rest of the summer? Who knows...
Showing posts with label Lifestyle Change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lifestyle Change. Show all posts
5/18/12
5/16/12
A Little Rusty
I'm a week into my new gig of non-working, pregnant mother and I still feel like I need to make sure my day is filled with a list of tasks to complete before I pick up Leah at 3:30.
I'm also having a hard time figuring out what is my job (role, responsibility, whatever) as a SAHM and what, as a pregnant woman, I am justified to ask Greg do...ok, demand Greg do...ok, be disappointed and sigh dramatically when Greg doesn't do it automatically.
Also, if Greg works from home, do I still need to cook dinner if he totally has the time to do it? If he has a slow day and doesn't have much to do am I still obligated to wash all dishes? Yes, he's technically the bread winner and I'm technically the homemaker, but does that mean he doesn't touch any task related to homemaking anymore? Does it really mean that I work from sun up to sun down at my new job while his is over at the end of the workday?
Am I overthinking this?
In other news, yes, I've been gone and this blog has been neglected. I'm not certain if I'm back for good so forgive me if I don't pretty it up immediately.
I'm also having a hard time figuring out what is my job (role, responsibility, whatever) as a SAHM and what, as a pregnant woman, I am justified to ask Greg do...ok, demand Greg do...ok, be disappointed and sigh dramatically when Greg doesn't do it automatically.
Also, if Greg works from home, do I still need to cook dinner if he totally has the time to do it? If he has a slow day and doesn't have much to do am I still obligated to wash all dishes? Yes, he's technically the bread winner and I'm technically the homemaker, but does that mean he doesn't touch any task related to homemaking anymore? Does it really mean that I work from sun up to sun down at my new job while his is over at the end of the workday?
Am I overthinking this?
In other news, yes, I've been gone and this blog has been neglected. I'm not certain if I'm back for good so forgive me if I don't pretty it up immediately.
12/1/11
The Finish Line
It wasn't easier. But I trained less this year. And I gave myself permission before the race to walk if I needed to. But I guess I never really needed to, because I never stopped to walk.
It was different this time. I wasn't doing something for the first time. I wasn't at the brim of tears for achieving something I worked so hard at. It wasn't as emotional. I didn't have as much riding on it. I was just doing something that I now do each year and am really proud of myself for doing.
I shaved a couple of minutes off of my time from last year, but I am not really concerned with time. When I am running the 5K, I only care about finishing. (Said like a true slow runner.)
And, as always, there is no better feeling than the one that you feel when you see Mile Marker 3. Because that means there is only .1 left. And that .1 is the easiest running you'll ever do. It's the type of running that you can do while holding your daughter's hand and smiling. It's feel-good running, and I wish I could capture that feeling and bottle it and use it in other aspects of my life.
This year has been different than the past few. I can't say it's been great, but it's been better. Life without my mom has always been a journey, I've said that before, but there have been times where I've seen the metaphorical Mile Marker 3. Where it's not only no longer a burden to go on, but a joy. There have been times where I've been living in the .1--me: pessimistic, sarcastic Dana, seeing mile 3, moving faster, grabbing my kid's hand, smiling, smooth moving for the last bit of the race, happy to finally cross the finish line.
11/2/11
Life Goes On
I left home at 17 and went to college in Boston. It was there that I wore baggy jeans and Simple sneakers, gave up red meat for a year, stopped believing in God, questioned authority, and realized that if you don’t like something in your life it’s up to you to change it.
I returned to NJ after graduation and moved in with my parents. My dad expected me to follow his rules, after four years of following my own, and so I moved out at 21 and got myself an apartment.
It’s been my way or the highway ever since.
Don’t like my job? Get a new one.
Don’t like my weight? Change it.
Don’t like my house? Move.
Losing my mom has been the only thing that I have not been able to change. I don’t want to be motherless. I don’t want to raise children without their grandmother. I don’t want to not have her here when I need her. But I can’t change any of that.
That’s why I started this blog. I was looking for a way to cope with something that I could not change. All of my life I’ve been lead to believe that I am in control of my own happiness, and here I was, not happy and not able to change it. I felt stuck. I wanted my mother here and there was no way to make that happen and therefore, I would never be happy again.
I was wrong. But I didn’t know it. It took time.
For the first few years after her death, I felt like I was walking through a dark tunnel. I was trying to get to the end, walking aimlessly with my arms out, reaching for anything that felt familiar, trying to figure out how to get out of this dark hell. Every once in a while I grabbed a hold of something that brought me comfort-- a hobby, an achievement, a memory, a good time—and I thought, “Ok, Dana. Move towards that. That’s the right way.” But then there were times when my eyes refused to acclimate to the darkness, and I lost hold of that good feeling, and I continued on my dark trek through the tunnel.
Lately, however, the tunnel hasn’t been that dark. It’s actually well-lit. There are paintings on the wall and friends at every corner. The ground is carpeted and the bathrooms are spotless. The tunnel isn’t even a tunnel. It’s a wide residential street with large leafy trees. It’s a sunny day. It’s jacket weather. My daughter is riding her bike next to me. My husband is holding my hand. My dog doesn’t want to eat other dogs. My daughter doesn’t have a potty mouth. Greg isn’t lecturing me about leaving my purse on the kitchen counter. I make a stop at Weight Watchers-I’ve lost 10 lbs this week! How awesome. Suddenly I’m jogging down the street. I’m waving to people who are here to cheer me on. My family is holding up signs. My dad is smiling. My sister is running next to me. I’m the winner of the race. The ribbon breaks against my stomach and I get a trophy and I’m laughing and we all break into a flash mob to Jessie J.’s Domino.
Maybe I can change this situation. Maybe bringing my mother back is not the only way to be happy again.
8/20/11
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
To date, I am down 20.4 lbs. I've been following Weight Watchers for three months now. For the most part, I do all right on most days, but there are moments that I'm not proud of, that involve nuts, tostitos, and white cheddar popcorn. I'm only human.
My only form of exercise is running, which I do about two times a week. I'd like to get up to three times weekly, but both mine and Greg's schedules don't permit that. Getting outside to run twice a week and also having night to attend my Weight Watchers meeting is all the work-free, kid-free time I get, and I'm grateful for it. It could be worse. I have contemplated buying a jogging stroller and taking Leah with me on runs. Since stopping every thirty seconds to answer a question that begins with the word Why is not ideal when jogging, I really don't want to do this.
For every really good week of weight loss, there are usually one to two poor weeks that follow. For a while I teetered in between a 16-19 lb. loss until I finally had a come to Jesus talk with myself and broke through to 20. Weight Watchers is all about small goals, and since my first small goal was a 20 lb loss, I have to now set my next goal.
We are going on vacation in a month so I'm thinking another 5 lbs by then would be nice...but I am also thinking about how there are oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard, so, maybe I'll compromise with a 3 lb. goal.
.
My only form of exercise is running, which I do about two times a week. I'd like to get up to three times weekly, but both mine and Greg's schedules don't permit that. Getting outside to run twice a week and also having night to attend my Weight Watchers meeting is all the work-free, kid-free time I get, and I'm grateful for it. It could be worse. I have contemplated buying a jogging stroller and taking Leah with me on runs. Since stopping every thirty seconds to answer a question that begins with the word Why is not ideal when jogging, I really don't want to do this.
For every really good week of weight loss, there are usually one to two poor weeks that follow. For a while I teetered in between a 16-19 lb. loss until I finally had a come to Jesus talk with myself and broke through to 20. Weight Watchers is all about small goals, and since my first small goal was a 20 lb loss, I have to now set my next goal.
We are going on vacation in a month so I'm thinking another 5 lbs by then would be nice...but I am also thinking about how there are oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard, so, maybe I'll compromise with a 3 lb. goal.
.
7/12/11
Run, Dana, Run
I am having such a hard time exercising. Or, I should say, finding time to exercise. It seems like the day just contains too many other priorities, and when I finally stop for the day it's too late to go for a run.
I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me. I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg. I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me.
I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me. I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg. I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me.
7/1/11
Weight Watchers
I’ve been following Weight Watchers since May 17th now. As of this past Tuesday, I am down 12.2 lbs, which means I’m averaging 2 lbs a week. I am happy with this pace, yet I fear I won’t be able to hold on to it for very much longer.
I thought by this point I’d have the new points plus system down better. I don’t. I am nothing without my tools to tell me how many points foods are, and I dutifully find myself entering meals into the system with no idea of how many points they’ll turn out to be until the screen blinks out a number.
I have not been able to exercise regularly, and I feel that exercising is the only thing that will enable me to hold on to that 2 lb a week loss pace. I am switching jobs (again? I know.) in a week which will give me some more free time. I plan on integrating running back into my life.
Other people on Weight Watchers see the plan as, “Oh I can eat anything I want--just in moderation,” while my outlook isn’t as cheery. If I could eat in moderation I wouldn’t be here. Clearly, that’s an issue for me. I look at Weight Watchers as the way I have to eat, with restrictions on foods and portions, forever, if I want to be lighter and healthier. I see it as a war that I’ve lost and my punishment is a very tight rein on my diet for the rest of my life; something that I need to comes to grips with and accept. I’ve tried to live my way with regards to food, and it didn’t work out, so now we do it someone else’s way, and succumb to the fact that I’ll need to track, report, weigh in, and attend meetings in order to curb my eating habits for the rest of my life.
It’s almost like someone in a drug and alcohol treatment program--someone who tried to handle their addiction on their own but failed and is now accepting the fact that they were wrong and need help. Quite often we see certain behaviors and objects as benign, and those who struggle with them as enigmas. When I realized that overeating and poor food choices were issues in my life, and made an effort to change that, I began treatment for my addiction.
It’s incredibly difficult to sit in a room with women who are strong enough to make a life change through diet and exercise, which, with all the fast and easy ways of losing weight this days, can be described as the long and hard way. I look around at these women who know that this is the right way to do it and are fighting the good fight, despite the uphill battle ahead of them. It’s not difficult to handle because I’m one of them, and can glimpse 10, 20, 30 years in the future and see myself still needing this program to stay healthy. No, it’s difficult because of the one person who gave up on this. The person who introduced me to Weight Watchers so many years ago, and who went back time and time again. Who saw results- although meager and short-lived- after her hard work. But then who gave up. Who succumbed when the battle became too much. Who saw a light off to the right, rather than through the long tunnel, and went to it. And then got burned.
.
I thought by this point I’d have the new points plus system down better. I don’t. I am nothing without my tools to tell me how many points foods are, and I dutifully find myself entering meals into the system with no idea of how many points they’ll turn out to be until the screen blinks out a number.
I have not been able to exercise regularly, and I feel that exercising is the only thing that will enable me to hold on to that 2 lb a week loss pace. I am switching jobs (again? I know.) in a week which will give me some more free time. I plan on integrating running back into my life.
Other people on Weight Watchers see the plan as, “Oh I can eat anything I want--just in moderation,” while my outlook isn’t as cheery. If I could eat in moderation I wouldn’t be here. Clearly, that’s an issue for me. I look at Weight Watchers as the way I have to eat, with restrictions on foods and portions, forever, if I want to be lighter and healthier. I see it as a war that I’ve lost and my punishment is a very tight rein on my diet for the rest of my life; something that I need to comes to grips with and accept. I’ve tried to live my way with regards to food, and it didn’t work out, so now we do it someone else’s way, and succumb to the fact that I’ll need to track, report, weigh in, and attend meetings in order to curb my eating habits for the rest of my life.
It’s almost like someone in a drug and alcohol treatment program--someone who tried to handle their addiction on their own but failed and is now accepting the fact that they were wrong and need help. Quite often we see certain behaviors and objects as benign, and those who struggle with them as enigmas. When I realized that overeating and poor food choices were issues in my life, and made an effort to change that, I began treatment for my addiction.
It’s incredibly difficult to sit in a room with women who are strong enough to make a life change through diet and exercise, which, with all the fast and easy ways of losing weight this days, can be described as the long and hard way. I look around at these women who know that this is the right way to do it and are fighting the good fight, despite the uphill battle ahead of them. It’s not difficult to handle because I’m one of them, and can glimpse 10, 20, 30 years in the future and see myself still needing this program to stay healthy. No, it’s difficult because of the one person who gave up on this. The person who introduced me to Weight Watchers so many years ago, and who went back time and time again. Who saw results- although meager and short-lived- after her hard work. But then who gave up. Who succumbed when the battle became too much. Who saw a light off to the right, rather than through the long tunnel, and went to it. And then got burned.
.
6/6/11
Le Weekend
Hmm, where shall I start?
Gymnasties on Saturday morning.
Followed by marshmallow roasting at night. (Oh, it was just soo much fun not eating these since I had completed my daily points intake for my stupid diet. Er, I mean lifestyle change.)
A little cuddle between Mommy and Baby...
Followed by Matthew's birthday party on Sunday.
Mmmm, cake.
And we rounded out the weekend checking out the swing set at Adriana's new condo complex.
Two feet up!
.
5/28/11
A Week of Firsts: Me
I joined Weight Watchers a couple of weeks ago. So far I've lost 4.8 lbs. It hasn't been easy, but it's necessary. My butt is large, yo. Now that Greg's got a new schedule with his job, and Leah's in full time school, I am really hoping to start back up with the running. Eventually I'd like to run 45 minutes three days a week, but this week my smaller goal is to complete three 15 minute runs.
I've been here before--joining Weight Watchers and thinking this time it's going to work, so I'm not going to wax poetic about how I should be at my fighting weight in a year. But I'd like to be. I really, really want to. And wanting it is half the battle.*
*Total bullcrap. Not eating is half the battle. Exercising is the other half. Wanting to lose weight just helps you stay motivated.
.
I've been here before--joining Weight Watchers and thinking this time it's going to work, so I'm not going to wax poetic about how I should be at my fighting weight in a year. But I'd like to be. I really, really want to. And wanting it is half the battle.*
*Total bullcrap. Not eating is half the battle. Exercising is the other half. Wanting to lose weight just helps you stay motivated.
.
3/23/11
Coming Home
You know when you're with someone that you don't know well, and you make some obscure movie reference and quote a line, and the person you're with then says the next line, and you look at them and realize at that exact moment that you're going to be good friends?
You know when you are parking the car and you accidentally hit the bottom of it on that cement piece at the top of the parking space and there's totally damage and you drive home freaking the hell out because you know your husband is going to be so pissed but then you get home, tell him, and he's like, you didn't cause that damage, I did, when I hit the cement piece on a parking space last week and you are just so relieved?
You know when life has been so tough and you have nightmares about having to go to work each day in what can only be described as a fiery, torturous hell, and the place makes you doubt yourself and your career and every single decision you've ever made and you are scared to look behind corners because of those people, and you try so hard to get out and finally, after 6 months you do, and your new job is so completely opposite of that and the people are nice and the work is fun and you have a new faith in what you do and how you do it and, while at your old job, the only personal item you kept at your desk was a lip gloss that you brought home each and every night but at your new job, on only day 3, you run to Walmart on your lunch break to buy a plant for your window because you want everyone to know you want to be there for a long, long time?
I know I owe you an update on our cruise, but I wanted to tell you all about this first. It's so much more important to me.
.
You know when you are parking the car and you accidentally hit the bottom of it on that cement piece at the top of the parking space and there's totally damage and you drive home freaking the hell out because you know your husband is going to be so pissed but then you get home, tell him, and he's like, you didn't cause that damage, I did, when I hit the cement piece on a parking space last week and you are just so relieved?
You know when life has been so tough and you have nightmares about having to go to work each day in what can only be described as a fiery, torturous hell, and the place makes you doubt yourself and your career and every single decision you've ever made and you are scared to look behind corners because of those people, and you try so hard to get out and finally, after 6 months you do, and your new job is so completely opposite of that and the people are nice and the work is fun and you have a new faith in what you do and how you do it and, while at your old job, the only personal item you kept at your desk was a lip gloss that you brought home each and every night but at your new job, on only day 3, you run to Walmart on your lunch break to buy a plant for your window because you want everyone to know you want to be there for a long, long time?
I know I owe you an update on our cruise, but I wanted to tell you all about this first. It's so much more important to me.
.
1/30/11
Hey Ana, What's Your Name?
My sister's birthday is February 1st and this year she will be 29. She's got a lot going on this year, and I'm really excited for her and what she's accomplishing on her own. We all got together tonight at my dad's house and had a birthday celebration for her.
I may call Adj and her on-again/off-again boyfriend Sammi and Ronnie, and I'll never stop busting her about her lack of use of lip gloss, but deep down inside she's a great person and my best friend and I know that this year is going to be her best yet.
It has to be--next year she turns 30, and we all know it's downhill from there.
.
I may call Adj and her on-again/off-again boyfriend Sammi and Ronnie, and I'll never stop busting her about her lack of use of lip gloss, but deep down inside she's a great person and my best friend and I know that this year is going to be her best yet.
It has to be--next year she turns 30, and we all know it's downhill from there.
.
11/28/10
The Absence of Suck
I was most concerned with not being able to stretch before the race began. I have never been a morning runner, especially a cold morning runner, so I thought that if anything was going to go wrong, I didn't want it to be something that could have been avoided with stretched-out muscles.
I didn't hear any sort of fanfare marking the official start of the race. I thought I'd hear a gun shot, or a horn, but nothing. This could have been because I had my ear buds in. There were over 1500 runners and for a minute or so after the race began we all just moved forward in a herd. I thought for a second that the entire race might be like this: that maybe there were too many people and not enough road and we'd all just shuffle in a big group for three miles.
Then the crowd began to open up. People started taking off ahead of the group. I remember running for a minute or so in line with my sister. I remember her running with her hands in her pockets and wondering how the hell she was able to do that. I remember my friend Lisa being a few feet ahead of us and looking back several times. I remember when both of them began pulling farther and farther apart from me. And I remember when I couldn't see either of them anymore. And then there was me. And I took a deep breath and fixed my ear buds again, and began the long lonely 3.1 mile journey. As it's always been. As I've grown accustomed to.
A lot of people passed me. People who weren't even jogging passed me. But, as my sister had informed me the night before, my jog speed was slower than most people's walk speed, so I was expecting this. A few minutes into the run I began seeing people on their way back. I tried to get real close to the center line to attempt to make eye contact with the guy who had come in 60th place in the NY Marathon and was predicted to run the Sparta Turkey Trot in record time. He zipped by me; I smiled at him, but he never saw me. It would have been inspiring to catch his eye, but he has personal records and qualifying races on his mind. He didn't have time for me.
The halfway point took forever to get to. By the time I finally reached it, I had seen Gab, Lisa, and Adj zip by on their way back. I could tell I was far behind them based on how long it took me to get halfway through, but I didn't care. I wasn't doing this for time. I was just doing this to run. I kept my eyes on the road and rallied through.
The course had hills. I didn't know this beforehand. I'm sure it was for the best, since I would have been much more intimidated if I had known that hills were part of this challenge. Welcome to the Black Parade played on the steepest one.
At one point I found myself slowing down, each step becoming harder and harder to take. My jog slowed and slowed and I felt my right leg fall into what I can only describe as a walk-step. And my knee immediately locked up, and it jolted my body back to attention, and I continued to run.
I was so lonely at some parts. Or maybe just bored. Alone. No one was on the side of the road cheering us on; I had no idea how much farther I had to go. All I know is that it sucked. It totally sucked.
And then I saw it. Mile Marker 3. And Florence and the Machine began. And then Flo Rida followed. And the wooden 3 sign grew larger as I got closer. And I started running. And I moved to the middle of the road. And I didn't feel a thing. Nothing hurt. Nothing was hard about what I was doing. I was sprinting down East Shore Trail all by myself early on Thanksgiving morning and I felt great. I felt wonderful! I was so happy. Happy to be finishing. Happy to be running. Happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then. Oh my god. And then. I saw my family. I saw my husband and I saw my daughter and they were cheering for me. FOR ME. Leah ran to me and I stopped. In the middle of the road before I hit the finish line, I stopped short. And I grabbed her hand. We started to run and she fell. I picked her up and asked her if she was ok, and she said yes. So, we held hands again and we ran to the finish line. And it was perfect! Gab and Adj and Lisa and Lan were all there. Everyone was waiting for me. And I crossed the line holding my daughter's hand. And I was so happy.
And then the suck came back. And it hurt. My feel felt like they weren't mine. I couldn't stop moving. I had sprained my ankle when I stopped to get Leah. I was trying to drink water. I could barely talk. Old Dana was back. The Dana that is not athletic and can't run and doesn't do very well in sports and is fat, slow, and finds new gray hairs every week.
But, for a few minutes, when Mile Marker 3 came into view, I was someone else. I was that person I used to remember. It was awesome. And I loved it. And it didn't suck entirely.
.
I didn't hear any sort of fanfare marking the official start of the race. I thought I'd hear a gun shot, or a horn, but nothing. This could have been because I had my ear buds in. There were over 1500 runners and for a minute or so after the race began we all just moved forward in a herd. I thought for a second that the entire race might be like this: that maybe there were too many people and not enough road and we'd all just shuffle in a big group for three miles.
Then the crowd began to open up. People started taking off ahead of the group. I remember running for a minute or so in line with my sister. I remember her running with her hands in her pockets and wondering how the hell she was able to do that. I remember my friend Lisa being a few feet ahead of us and looking back several times. I remember when both of them began pulling farther and farther apart from me. And I remember when I couldn't see either of them anymore. And then there was me. And I took a deep breath and fixed my ear buds again, and began the long lonely 3.1 mile journey. As it's always been. As I've grown accustomed to.
A lot of people passed me. People who weren't even jogging passed me. But, as my sister had informed me the night before, my jog speed was slower than most people's walk speed, so I was expecting this. A few minutes into the run I began seeing people on their way back. I tried to get real close to the center line to attempt to make eye contact with the guy who had come in 60th place in the NY Marathon and was predicted to run the Sparta Turkey Trot in record time. He zipped by me; I smiled at him, but he never saw me. It would have been inspiring to catch his eye, but he has personal records and qualifying races on his mind. He didn't have time for me.
The halfway point took forever to get to. By the time I finally reached it, I had seen Gab, Lisa, and Adj zip by on their way back. I could tell I was far behind them based on how long it took me to get halfway through, but I didn't care. I wasn't doing this for time. I was just doing this to run. I kept my eyes on the road and rallied through.
The course had hills. I didn't know this beforehand. I'm sure it was for the best, since I would have been much more intimidated if I had known that hills were part of this challenge. Welcome to the Black Parade played on the steepest one.
At one point I found myself slowing down, each step becoming harder and harder to take. My jog slowed and slowed and I felt my right leg fall into what I can only describe as a walk-step. And my knee immediately locked up, and it jolted my body back to attention, and I continued to run.
I was so lonely at some parts. Or maybe just bored. Alone. No one was on the side of the road cheering us on; I had no idea how much farther I had to go. All I know is that it sucked. It totally sucked.
And then I saw it. Mile Marker 3. And Florence and the Machine began. And then Flo Rida followed. And the wooden 3 sign grew larger as I got closer. And I started running. And I moved to the middle of the road. And I didn't feel a thing. Nothing hurt. Nothing was hard about what I was doing. I was sprinting down East Shore Trail all by myself early on Thanksgiving morning and I felt great. I felt wonderful! I was so happy. Happy to be finishing. Happy to be running. Happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then. Oh my god. And then. I saw my family. I saw my husband and I saw my daughter and they were cheering for me. FOR ME. Leah ran to me and I stopped. In the middle of the road before I hit the finish line, I stopped short. And I grabbed her hand. We started to run and she fell. I picked her up and asked her if she was ok, and she said yes. So, we held hands again and we ran to the finish line. And it was perfect! Gab and Adj and Lisa and Lan were all there. Everyone was waiting for me. And I crossed the line holding my daughter's hand. And I was so happy.
And then the suck came back. And it hurt. My feel felt like they weren't mine. I couldn't stop moving. I had sprained my ankle when I stopped to get Leah. I was trying to drink water. I could barely talk. Old Dana was back. The Dana that is not athletic and can't run and doesn't do very well in sports and is fat, slow, and finds new gray hairs every week.
But, for a few minutes, when Mile Marker 3 came into view, I was someone else. I was that person I used to remember. It was awesome. And I loved it. And it didn't suck entirely.
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11/25/10
I DID IT!
We all did it.
Thanks for all the support and encouragement.
Without you, I would not have been able to do this.
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11/24/10
11/23/10
11/22/10
10/6/10
Brought To You By Coffee
Sometimes having kids feels like doing time for a crime you didn't commit. I mean, yes, technically, with regards to Leah, I did "commit the crime." I mean, we wanted her, and she's here due to us. But, there are times when taking care of her seems really exhaustive and heavy and just plain tough.
I was talking to a co worker who is child-free, by choice. He spent the weekend babysitting his 5 year-old neice, and today, Wednesday, he's still recuperating from the weekend. He just doesn't understand how people can do this day in and day out, like deal with kids, all the time. And, he's right. I don't know how I do it.
We spend a lot of time in the car. And Leah must talk, question, comment, and narrate the entire time she's in the car. There's a lot of "Look, Mommy"s too. It's non-stop. When I pick her up from my sister's house on Wednesdays and am in the thick of a 45-minute commute in rush hour traffic after working for 9 straight hours, the last thing I want to do is "Look at my knee, Mommy! Look at my sock! Oh, man! There's a bus!" And if she doesn't get a reaction she will keep going, louder and louder, until she does. So, we have a conversation for the duration of the entire ride. Every ride. Every day.
Now, I don't want you all to think that I'm complaining about parenthood, because I'm not. Much. I knew it would be tough and challenging. Not as tough and challenging as it actually is, but still, I had an idea. What I'm saying is that despite the challenges, we still do it. We still have kids. We still run ourselves ragged taking care of them and tending to their needs. We still think about them and worry about them. We kiss, hug, cuddle, and snuggle them. We love them to pieces. More than we ever thought possible. It's worth it. It must be, right?
Despite being woken up at 5 a.m. this morning to the words, "I want pancakes now!" I never regret the day Greg and I decided to become parents. I can't even remember life without Cha Cha. And I don't want to...because I was probably well rested and energetic and richer. And, really, who wants to think about that?
I was talking to a co worker who is child-free, by choice. He spent the weekend babysitting his 5 year-old neice, and today, Wednesday, he's still recuperating from the weekend. He just doesn't understand how people can do this day in and day out, like deal with kids, all the time. And, he's right. I don't know how I do it.
We spend a lot of time in the car. And Leah must talk, question, comment, and narrate the entire time she's in the car. There's a lot of "Look, Mommy"s too. It's non-stop. When I pick her up from my sister's house on Wednesdays and am in the thick of a 45-minute commute in rush hour traffic after working for 9 straight hours, the last thing I want to do is "Look at my knee, Mommy! Look at my sock! Oh, man! There's a bus!" And if she doesn't get a reaction she will keep going, louder and louder, until she does. So, we have a conversation for the duration of the entire ride. Every ride. Every day.
Now, I don't want you all to think that I'm complaining about parenthood, because I'm not. Much. I knew it would be tough and challenging. Not as tough and challenging as it actually is, but still, I had an idea. What I'm saying is that despite the challenges, we still do it. We still have kids. We still run ourselves ragged taking care of them and tending to their needs. We still think about them and worry about them. We kiss, hug, cuddle, and snuggle them. We love them to pieces. More than we ever thought possible. It's worth it. It must be, right?
Despite being woken up at 5 a.m. this morning to the words, "I want pancakes now!" I never regret the day Greg and I decided to become parents. I can't even remember life without Cha Cha. And I don't want to...because I was probably well rested and energetic and richer. And, really, who wants to think about that?
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9/3/10
Getting Back on Track-Running Update
While in Myrtle Beach, I ran once. The heat was unbearable, as Myrtle Beach is closer to hell, er, I mean the equator, and I just couldn’t find a time when I could step outside and not instantly start melting. Just from standing in place. So, I didn’t run…although I felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing.
The one night that I did run was rough. I couldn't complete the run, and ended up walking a lot more than I normally do. Also, while drivers in Sparta aren't always happy that they have to share the road with a runner, they don't want me dead. Drivers in Myrtle Beach seemed downright angry about the fact that someone was running on the side of their road and therefore that person needed some schoolin' 'bout how things are done in the South. I almost had to jump in a nearby pond when I swear I saw a woman swerve towards me as she passed. She may have been smiling.
So, I gave up the endeavor and surrendered to the Land O'Hush Puppy and vowed that I'd resume my running program when I returned home. Only I wasn't expecting it to get dark so early these days, and, at the risk of sounding like a broken record--the heat, mylanta, the heat--and therefore, here we are on Friday, four days after I've returned from vacation, and I've only run once.
I'm not giving up on the running. I'd be too proud to have to admit to you that I failed. Plus, I enjoy running. I especially enjoy talking about running. But, I'm just in a rut. I've had some very. big. things. happening in my life, things that I will be bringing up soon, and running just hasn't been a priority. But, I still have 3 sections of my program to complete, and the Turkey Trot is looming closer, and I think that I need just one ideal run to whip me back into shape. You know, just one run that's perfect: perfect weather, perfect time of day, perfect level of motivation, perfect amount of sleep the night before. I need a run that I enjoy immensely to remind me why I like doing this and why I want to keep it up.
I'm hoping to complete that run this weekend. So, wish me luck.
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The one night that I did run was rough. I couldn't complete the run, and ended up walking a lot more than I normally do. Also, while drivers in Sparta aren't always happy that they have to share the road with a runner, they don't want me dead. Drivers in Myrtle Beach seemed downright angry about the fact that someone was running on the side of their road and therefore that person needed some schoolin' 'bout how things are done in the South. I almost had to jump in a nearby pond when I swear I saw a woman swerve towards me as she passed. She may have been smiling.
So, I gave up the endeavor and surrendered to the Land O'Hush Puppy and vowed that I'd resume my running program when I returned home. Only I wasn't expecting it to get dark so early these days, and, at the risk of sounding like a broken record--the heat, mylanta, the heat--and therefore, here we are on Friday, four days after I've returned from vacation, and I've only run once.
I'm not giving up on the running. I'd be too proud to have to admit to you that I failed. Plus, I enjoy running. I especially enjoy talking about running. But, I'm just in a rut. I've had some very. big. things. happening in my life, things that I will be bringing up soon, and running just hasn't been a priority. But, I still have 3 sections of my program to complete, and the Turkey Trot is looming closer, and I think that I need just one ideal run to whip me back into shape. You know, just one run that's perfect: perfect weather, perfect time of day, perfect level of motivation, perfect amount of sleep the night before. I need a run that I enjoy immensely to remind me why I like doing this and why I want to keep it up.
I'm hoping to complete that run this weekend. So, wish me luck.
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8/10/10
Hello, Mile 3
Well. That sucked.
I was concerned that my jog was only taking me about 2.25-2.5 miles.
I am impatient.
I am slightly OCD.
Of course, I think I know more than Todd, the creator of my running program.
Therefore, I decided to take things into my own hands.
Last night, I jogged my normal “walk 2, jog 2” interval until I completed 3 miles. I had to prove to myself that I could do it.
It took 44 minutes. Which means that, at this rate, at the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot 5K that I plan on running, elderly, handicapped and infants will have completed the race and will mostly likely have showered and will be napping by the time I get to the finish line. People will be sweeping the streets and Christmas decorations will be going up on street lights.
So, I guess I need to work on my time a bit.
Today my legs are jello. And the ball of my left foot hurts. I’m exhausted. And starving. (The starving thing is really nothing new, though.)
Slow but steady, right?
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.
I was concerned that my jog was only taking me about 2.25-2.5 miles.
I am impatient.
I am slightly OCD.
Of course, I think I know more than Todd, the creator of my running program.
Therefore, I decided to take things into my own hands.
Last night, I jogged my normal “walk 2, jog 2” interval until I completed 3 miles. I had to prove to myself that I could do it.
It took 44 minutes. Which means that, at this rate, at the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot 5K that I plan on running, elderly, handicapped and infants will have completed the race and will mostly likely have showered and will be napping by the time I get to the finish line. People will be sweeping the streets and Christmas decorations will be going up on street lights.
So, I guess I need to work on my time a bit.
Today my legs are jello. And the ball of my left foot hurts. I’m exhausted. And starving. (The starving thing is really nothing new, though.)
Slow but steady, right?
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