Thursday, October 8, 2015

Blogging 2015: 802 down, 1213 to go (Lurong Days 24&25)

I'm on vacation!  I don't have to go back to work until next month. I wonder if this is what being independently wealthy feels like. Except without, you know, money.

The last 2 nights were more of the same. Dullsville. And that was a-okay, although the last two hours of my shift this morning were excruciating. I was impossibly giddy, and hopped up on waaaaaaay too much caffeine. No heartburn last night, though, so the universe smiled on me in that regard.

Yesterday (Wednesday was yesterday, right? Right.) I went to yoga at 0830, so basically right after work. It was a challenging class, lots of long lunges and twisty-bendy stuff. I fell asleep in savasana.  Fell asleep to the point where I didn't hear the instructor give the word to come out of it. I heard "Namaste", opened my eyes and said "Shit, I fell asleep." Because I am spiritual. I rule at corpse pose. I am the corpsey-est corpse around.

I'm going to have to start setting a different intention before each practice. Historically my intention is "Don't fart in downward dog." I may have to amend that to "Don't become an actual corpse."

After my class/nap, I came home and set up dinner in the crockpot. Then I went to bed. I turned on the fan of death and fell into the pillows. I think I was out before I made contact. Lots of odd dreams yesterday. Not bad, just...odd.  I slept until 5:30. It was awesome. Sleeping later before my final shift of the week makes staying up all day easier, and then I just go to bed early my first night off and voila. Back in the land of the living.

Dinner was Hawaiian meatballs. I opted not to make actual meatballs since we were serving on lettuce cups. This dish was okay. Not awesome, not terrible. I don't know that I need to make it again. Fantastic husband thinks if we made it with meatballs in a skillet vs. the crockpot it would be better. Maybe one day.


Last night was another dull one. I did a little more CE, answered a bunch of phone calls, and processed a bunch of standard orders. At midnight I had my dinner.

Fish 'n veg.

Around 7am I had an apple because I was starving, but I can't eat a lone apple or I get ravenously hungry. It's weird, but it's a thing. Google it.

Came home and had another round of waffles 'n nanas. This is fucking delightful. Honestly though it's not enough protein to fuel a workout.  By the end of Barre I was starving.

Hello, beautiful.

I took my usual Thursday morning Barre class, and I actually made it through the whole thing without feeling like my quads were going to ignite. I was hurting, but aside from a couple of Wait, WTF am I doing with my feet? moments I made it through. Planks and planks and planks!

Costco was mostly deserted today as it was raining sloths and hippos. I flapped around the produce department and dairy case and headed home with my treasures. Then I parked myself in a chair for a bit. I was going to get a flu shot, but it was pouring and I had no desire to get out of my car and slog through the hospital parking lot. I'll go next week. No biggie. I did call my tattoo artist about my calf piece. He has time this weekend to draw, so I could be in the chair as early as next week! I'm so excited!

I baked a few cookies for the smalls and went to retrieve them from school. The boys went on a field trip on the first to an apple orchard. They apparently picked apples and pumpkins. They painted the pumpkins at school this week, and today was the day they got to bring them home.  Both boys were excited to tell me how heavy their backpacks were, then proceeded to ditch them at my feet to go play. Once the girl child exited the school building I started walking away from their bags. C was alarmed "Mommy! You forgot our bags!"  I said "I didn't forget anything. Those are your bags, you carry them. Mommy is not a pack mule." 

He was quite the little thundercloud all the way home. 

He can make that face for hours. 

I was super excited to see what was in the mailbox when we got home from school. My new workout underpants! I'm going to put these babies through their paces tomorrow and issue a verdict. Early signs are encouraging...the fit is perfect and the fabric seems promising.

Pretty colors!

Did a little math and spelling with L after school, and miraculously she finished everything well in advance of dinner. This makes me wonder if she actually wrote down all of her assignments. I guess we'll find out tomorrow. She aced my little spelling quiz, though. -ight words FTW. 

Dinner was apple bacon bbq chicken. Cooked in the crockpot and finished under the broiler for crispy bacon. This was pretty good. The kids loved it. I had it with some mashed sweet taters.

I should've had some veg.

Transition days when fantastic husband is working can be pretty rough. By 6pm I'm often pretty draggy and I tend to get snippy at the kids much faster than usual. Not much I can do about the tiredness, it comes with the territory. To deal with the snippy this evening, I filled up our jetted tub and put a cartoon movie on for the kids. Then I poured a glass of wine and fired up my internet radio playlist and sank into hot water up to my neck. It was fucking glorious. I even read a book for a bit. I was afraid to close my eyes because I didn't want to fall asleep and drown (see above intention about not becoming an actual corpse). 

Where are the kids? I dunno...around.

The October challenge continues with today's affirmation:

My failings do not make me a failure.

I am made of failings. I'm cold, sarcastic, impatient, and overly analytical. I've been accused of being cruel, emotionless, insensitive, and arrogant. More than one person has called me hard. I have been all those things. I'm also confrontational and have poor impulse control when my anger reaches the breaking point. I medicate myself with food and isolation when I feel overwhelmed. 

But I work on these things. Writing this blog is a way of reaching out, being less guarded. I'll say anything, I've always been that way, but historically I haven't revealed much of my inner self. I'm working on that. It's okay to let people really see you, at least sometimes. I'm trying to be more patient. Yoga factors into that. I suck at yoga, but I suck waaaaay less now than I did a year ago. It's a process, and I'm being patient. CrossFit has made me more patient, too. Skills I never thought I'd master are creeping into my "stuff I can sort of do" file, and that is an extreme example of patience...I've been working on a lot of these things for more than 3 years. In many ways I hold people to impossible standards, myself included. But people (myself included) aren't perfect...and what a fucking boring world this would be if they were. Letting go of the perfection illusion is imperative. Life is messy, and I can't control it all the time. I shouldn't try. 

I am made of failings, but they don't have to define me. And if I'm willing to recognize and work on them, maybe they aren't insurmountable. I'm not saying I'm ever going to be excited about going to a party (so scary, you guys), but maybe I can peel myself off the wall now and then...or at least talk to the other people hiding behind the potted plants. I am made of failings, but I am not a failure. 

Still no hugs, though. Agreed?

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Blogging 2015: 800 down, 1215 to go (Lurong Day 23)

It seems that I'm a white cloud this week. Truthfully, I'm usually a white cloud. What I mean is that for some reason truly horrible shit rarely happens at the hospital when I'm working. The opposite of a white cloud is a lightening rod.  I've worked with a few lightening rod pharmacists over the course of my career. They are the type who end up with the weird shit going down while they're at work. Simultaneous codes, multiple chemo patients going haywire all at once, bizarre antibiotic regimens or reactions, truly freakish accidents piled on top of belligerent drunks on top of transplant orders and a triplet birth. That kind of thing. I've experienced all of those things, but in general they happen one at a time and not all at once. For the most part when I work (even if it's busy) it's pretty smooth sailing. It only gets clusterfucky now and then. There have been some people that I dreaded working with because so much weird shit happened to them, although often my white-cloudiness overrode their lightening-roddedness. I am a bit of an angel of death in code situations, though. This is all bullshit, mind you, because the universe is chaos and shit happens no matter who you are, but in general I do a decent job of keeping the chaos at bay.

Anyway, my point is that it's been boring as shit in the hospital for the last few nights. Which is fine, but it makes for loooooooong nights.

Last night I listened to internet radio and did some CE on pediatric neurology. Interesting stuff, that. Definitely more interesting than biostatistics. I feel like statistical analysis is witchcraft. You can make numbers mean literally anything if you tweak your hypothesis in the right direction. I sometimes wonder if study designers are just yanking our collective chain.  Just give me the bottom line and lets skip the fancy pants math, mkay? I'm not interested in your p-value unless you can make that shit relevant for me.

I once again drank too much coffee, so I pretty much just had some hard boiled eggs and melon around 3am. Too much honeydew. I hate that shit. No picture of my sad fruit.

Came home early to get the smalls squared away for school, and since they were having waffles I decided to have them. With bananas! NOM!

Banana was an afterthought. A good one.

Then I got home and there was a voicemail from Foot Locker wanting clarification on payment for $411 worth of gear. I didn't order anything from Foot Locker. So I called them, got the order stopped, called the police and filed a report, called the bank to cancel my debit card, and then it was 9am and kind of past my bedtime. I did manage to turn on the fan of death and sleep like a corpse for 6 hours, so that's a win.

Upon waking I swiped some meat cookies.

The dog really wants these. A lot.

Then I read for a while and helped the girl child with her homework here and there, while fantastic husband made dinner. I felt a little guilty since I did quite literally nothing during this time frame. Not guilty enough to get up and help, but kind of guilty.

Meat and veg.

I grabbed some desert.

Wine and dried cherries.

Now I'm enjoying my beverage and watching Wheel. Because I am old. T-minus 2 shifts to vacation, and tomorrow morning I'm going to hit a yoga class before I go to sleep. Mostly because fantastic husband has to do something stupid for work that might happen or might not but I can't bank on not or I'll miss my evening class.  Also I might WOD at 1615...we'll see if I'm awake.

Today's affirmation was 

I am enough.

Goes along with that guilty feeling for not doing more after I woke up today. I often feel like I'm not enough. Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not smart enough, not ambitious get the idea. I think that's a pretty common thing for women. We seem to think that unless you are accomplishing everything then you are accomplishing nothing. Unless we graduated summa cum laude and stepped right into a high level job making great money, found Mr. Right, popped out 2.5 perfect kids, dropped right back into a size 4, maintain a perfect tan, and manage to create gourmet meals in our sparkling kitchens before heading out to run in full make-up and head-to-toe lululemon without sweating...then we somehow suck.

Well I'll tell you what I accomplished today: I thwarted fraud, motherfuckers. I brushed my teeth like a boss. I moved the pile of clean laundry from the bed to the chair.  I am winning. 

I fight my baser nature on a day-to-day basis. If I could sit stationary in a chair with my feet up, a cup of coffee, a bag of cookies, and a suitcase full of yarn? I would never move. My ass would graft to the chair. But I don't. I feed the kids mostly okay food, I wash their mostly fitting clothes, I clean their dirty little bodies and kiss boo-boos and read horribly written stories (OMG WHO came up with Ninjago and HOW can I find him and scramble his brain?!?). I shower and get dressed and go to work. I go to the gym and chit chat with my friends and sometimes squat. I fall asleep in savasana. I pay the bills. And you know what? That is enough. I am enough. 

The Swedish have a word "lagom" which means just enough (roughly, it's more of a concept). It's the idea of having just what you need. "Enough is as good as a feast" is another rough translation. It's a good concept, it appeals to me. We spend too much time trying to have more, to be more. It's stressful. I don't want to do it anymore.

I am me, and I am enough.

And you know what, my friend? So are you.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Blogging 2015: 800 down, 1215 to go (Lurong Day 22)

I didn't get to blogging yesterday, sorry. I was busy sleeping. Then hanging out with fantastic husband, then yoga-ing...which conveniently got me out of bathing the spawn. Unintentional winning is the best kind of winning.

Last night's yoga session was a damn near perfect one for me. By that I mean that I went in with my back a little locked up and came out feeling bendy. In addition to that little benefit, I felt exceptionally strong throughout. I did every chaturanga, sank deep into my poses, and balanced like a boss (even if Crow was a little shady). It went perfectly with my little affirmation for yesterday which was:

This body is powerful.

I used to play rugby. It's actually how I met fantastic husband. Playing rugby was my first foray into feeling physically powerful. I dabbled in kickboxing before that, did a little shitty machine weightlifting (for real, I super half-assed it), but I wasn't trying to be powerful. I was trying to be skinny, which is pretty much the exact opposite of being powerful. I spent a lot of years basically trying to vanish. This is not to say slender women can't be powerful-I see that every day in the gym-but that wasn't my goal at the time.

Playing rugby made me feel powerful. When I started playing I was about 140 pounds. That's not big for a girl rugger, certainly not on a stretched framework like mine. My cardio game was aces, but at the end of my first practice one of the veteran players (we called her Tank-ironically that was actually her name and she wasn't all that large, though she was certainly powerful) said to me "You need to grab a pint of ice cream and eat it, skinny gets you nothing on a rugby pitch." Running at a scrum sled made me feel powerful, especially when it was loaded with players. Tackling made me feel powerful. Strangely, being tackled also made me feel powerful. There's something to knowing you can be hit really hard by a person much larger than yourself, roll over, and come up off the ground at a full sprint. My Dad used to say that everyone should be punched in the face at least once in their lifetime, just to know what it felt like.

Side note: Punching a guy in the face makes you feel pretty powerful, too. But then it makes you feel like you should probably grab your drunk roommate and vacate that frat party pronto. 

These days I do less hitting and more lifting. I miss hitting. Not a lot of things relieve stress like throwing some bitch on her head, but lifting comes close. I've also come to define power in different ways. Yes, working hard in the gym creates power-physically and mentally. Charging up hills with my lungs burning and my quads screaming creates power. But I'm beginning to find power in stillness as well. Standing motionless in Tree pose last night felt like power to me. Sweeping forward and down into low plank felt like power. 

I ate some stuff. See?

Cottage pie.

On to today. I worked last night, which was once again uneventful. Three more shifts. Not that I'm counting down or anything. I managed to get a fuzz or something in my eye, so I went to the bathroom to see if I could find the damn thing. Fortunately, it was easily spotted and removed. In retrieving it I leaned in close to the mirror and got a bird's eye view of my crow's feet (see what I did there?). I take pretty good care of my skin, but I am approaching 40, and I do work nights. Florescent lights aren't the most flattering, but I found myself considering my face. I've already divulged that I hated my face pretty hard growing up. The last 15 years or so I've been pretty at peace with it. In fact, if I had my nose fixed I'm pretty sure I'd go all Jennifer Grey because I wouldn't recognize myself (and neither would anyone else). So I decided on today's affirmation.
This face is beautiful.

People think of beauty as a youthful trait. Beauty is easy when you're young. Even ugly young people are sort of beautiful. Their skin is smooth, eyes bright, hair shiny...unless they're a meth addict. Then less beautiful. I've always found older people more beautiful. Working retail pharmacy for so many years, I saw a lot of people, some of whom I thought were very beautiful. There are a few that stick out in my mind. None of them were young. Two of them were cancer survivors.  I'm more likely to be drawn to a face that tells a story. A little scar, a crooked nose, freckles. These things make a person distinctive. I feel like I've finally grown into my face.
Yearbook photo. I have a color one, but I couldn't find it.

22 year old me at my college graduation. I'm in the middle.

27 year old me, with future fantastic husband.

28 year old me, full witch nose on display.

Aww, look how young and cute we were.

38 year old me, after a 10 hour overnight shift.

This face is really mine now, and it is beautiful in its way. 

After work I headed home to sleep. Last night I had a couple of leftover brats and cauli rice. It was kind of a dismal looking dinner, but it tasted good. I drank a fair amount of coffee and gave myself heartburn which meant I wasn't really in the mood for breakfast, so I ate some Tums (which are kind of like food, ask any pregnant woman). I also ate this muffin. That's right. I took a cheat. I don't regret it, because it was delicious.

Lemon poppyseed. NOMNOMNOM.

The smalls had CF Kids this afternoon, and I considered WODing at the same time, but I was only 5 miles off 800 and the dog had been cooped up all day, so I went out for a run instead. It was nice to get some air, even if it was a little chilly. The dog seemed glad of it, too.

Dinner was turkey burgers and cauli rice.

Cruciferous vegetable night!

Now I'm doing laundry and listening to my daughter read aloud. They are reading Stone Fox in group, and she's been slacking, so she's making it up and we are playing "20 comprehension questions" with each chapter. She's actually quite a good reader, but she has a stuffy nose, so it's a little more humorous than it should be. 

I'm a terrible person.

Back to work tonight, maybe another run tomorrow afternoon. I need to get into the arboretum. The leaves are turning and I need to run the chip trail at least once before they come down. I love that route. If you want to run 7ish miles with me sometime, holler. I'll show you my little piece of running heaven. That's not a euphemism, you fucking pervs.

Okay. Stone Fox. Little kid laundry. And the continuing search for non-sucky workout underpants. The struggle is real, people. 

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Blogging 2015: 795 down, 1220 to go (Lurong Day 20)

Today was odd. I worked last night, of course. It was deadly dull. And I don't mean people died, because they didn't, but that is was slow to the point of pain.  I actually was in pain, because after all the squatting and the lunging this week it was painful to sit on my ass. So I kept wandering around the pharmacy looking for something to do standing up.

At midnight I ate my dinner.

Thai Basil Beef and cauli rice.

It's really a good thing I'm sleeping alone this week, because I've consumed an inordinate amount of cruciferous vegetables.

I tried to do some CE, but I was too bored and it was making me sleepy. One of these days I'll make it through that Biostatistics lecture. One of these days.

Around 6am I chomped down an apple. No picture. My phone battery goes from 80% to empty at an alarming rate in the pharmacy for some reason. It died, so my camera was unavailable.

After work I flopped into bed and was asleep almost instantly. I got up at 2:30 and released the sitter from the slow burning hell that is spending a Saturday with the smalls. Then I had breakfast. 

Cherry riesling, beef jerky, and dried cherries.
Shut up.

It was the first day of the Wisconsin Open at the box today, and the kids were all jacked up about going to the gym, so I showered up and got them ready to go. I pulled out a pair of jeans I haven't worn in a while. In truth I haven't worn much but workout clothes and scrubs for a while. Thankfully they fit. Witness my size 12 skinny jeans. That's right, bitches. I'm plus sized and proud of it. You can suck on that size 12, fashion industry.

The plus means they're extra good.

I've never been to a weight lifting competition, and it was interesting to watch. Every lifter has their thing. Noises, facial expressions, a little ritual before pulling the bar. We saw a lot of great lifts and a few scary ones. Both of my boys came out of the play room to watch. C was especially excited. "He did it, Mom! That was so heavy and he picked it right up!" They both informed me that they would like to be power lifters. P told me that he was going to start lifting weights tomorrow.  I should probably hide my dumbbells. This could get ugly.

After the comp was over for the day, I took the kids to Red Robin for dinner. I had a burger no bun and some sweet potato fries. I completely spaced taking a picture. Oh well. It was delicious, and the kids all ordered their food perfectly and had second helpings of fruit. There were a large number of teenagers bound for Homecoming in the restaurant. I do not miss that shit at all. Of course, that might be because I never once got asked to a dance in high school. Or college. What can I say. My personality was 100% effective birth control. 

My affirmation for day 3 was...
Good health is a gift.

I have minimal physical issues. Scoliosis runs in my family, but in spite of my height and the curvature of my spine I've had very little real trouble with my back during my life. I do not live with pain, inflammation, or true discomfort of any kind aside from that which I inflict on myself in the gym. What minor issues do develop are quickly dealt with and I go back to being in excellent health. Working in health care, I understand how rare it is to be without physical complaint. A body that is in perfect health at baseline is a gift. Worrying about stupid shit like cellulite diminishes that perfection. Today I walked tall and celebrated my body with good posture and a deep gratitude for all it's moving parts. Even the ones that are twinging after many squats and lunges. Caring for this body is my duty and my privilege. This is the vessel that moves me through the world, and I am grateful for it.

5 more nights in the salt mine and vacation begins. Tomorrow if I'm lucky I'll get back to the box for a little more spectating and still manage 6ish hours of sleep before yoga. I'm looking forward to it. I have an appointment with a run coach on 10/13 to set some goals and develop a training plan for my spring half marathon. I've got a significant PR in me. I can feel it. I just need to not be afraid of the work it will take to get there.

Saturday night in the hospital pharmacy. Party on, Wayne.

Friday, October 2, 2015

Blogging 2015: 793 down, 1222 to go (Lurong Day 19)

Made it through my first night on. Our northern partner had a quiet night and my home site was very run-of-the-mill. Perfect first night. You want it to be active so you can stay awake, but not insane (because you're running on minimal sleep). Six more. No problem.

I was hoping to hit 915 at the box today, but once I got home and got dinner into the crock pot, it was painfully obvious that I wasn't safe to drive. Protip: If you drop an onion on the floor three times in a row for no reason, you are not safe to drive. Instead I went to bed, got a reasonable amount of sleep, and shuffled off to the 1615 workout. First time at that time of day. It wasn't too bad. The box is all set up for a weightlifting competition tomorrow. I may have made a bad attempt at flamenco dancing on the lifting platform. 

I was so sore today. My legs, core, and ass are screaming. I felt better after the workout, but the warmth is leaving my muscles now and after all that squatting, I'm going to have another night of painful sitting. Tomorrow fantastic husband is doing a ruck to commemorate the Bataan Death March so he'll be gone all day. There's a sitter coming for a few hours so I can sleep, and I might visit the comp, but my next workout won't be until Sunday night. Fortunately it's yoga, so I'm hoping to stretch out all this soreness.

My "day" started at midnight with dinner. Leftover cottage pie. This stuff gets better as leftovers than it is fresh from the oven. It looks like Alpo, but it tastes like baby dolphin chow.

I even got to eat it hot!

Snarfed down some grapes around 3.

A really good batch. Crunch and delicious.

I made a protein smoothie for breakfast with a banana and some almond milk and protein powder. I waited until I got home to make it so I could drink it in bed while I read a book. It's a little sad when a protein shake feels like a decadent bedtime snack, but I have goals and shit, so there it is.

Hubs made meat cookies (jerky) so he'd have some snacks for his march. He asked me to put them in the fridge when I got home, so I did. They didn't all make it. 


When I woke up I changed, grabbed and apple, and headed for the box where I squatted a little and whined a lot. 

I toss the cores into the woods. 
I figure that's like a party for the animal that finds it.

After my workout I posted my score to the Lurong site so I wouldn't forget and hustled home to grab the kids from daycare and get dinner on the table. I made slow cooker chicken and gravy from Nom Nom Paleo. It was tasty over some cauli rice. Not a colorful dish, but certainly falls in the realm of comfort food. The kids ate the hell out of it. They love roast chicken.  When you make it this way the bird just completely falls apart.
I had wine. 6oz. 3.5 hours before my shift begins.

I made the smalls some cookies to have for a bedtime snack. They keep coming upstairs to ask if it's time yet. I keep telling them sure if they want to go to bed an hour early. They go back downstairs. 

Ok, so it's day 2 of the October challenge.  Today's affirmation is....

This body endures.

Because it does. Sometimes I wonder where my physical breaking point actually is. I've never "left it all out there" on a race course, and I've never WOD-ed or Yoga-d to true failure. I've put my body through some grueling shit, but I've never really felt like I couldn't go on. That's a hell of a thing. The Bellin Women's Half gave us a voucher for a discount on 16 weeks of coaching. I'm going to give all-out training a go. Who knows what will happen.

Pain is temporary. Pride is forever. I need to remember that. I need to let myself be proud of what I've done. Every one of these medals is a memory. I can look at them and recall who I ran a race with (or if I was alone), what the weather was like, how I felt during and after, and pretty specific details about the course and support. That's why I like race medals. Not because the medal is so important, but because the medal helps me remember the details.

Might be time for a new rack.

This body endures in other ways, too. Five and a half years ago I gave birth to a pair of twin boys. That pregnancy was 37 weeks and 3 days of stress and worry and sickness and pain. I pulled a muscle in my back twice. I couldn't eat without feeling like I would rather die for nearly 26 weeks. I worked third shift until the day I found out there were 2 in there, then full time until 34 weeks when I had a pre-term labor. They were able to stop it, thankfully, with fluids and drugs, but that meant 3 and a half more weeks of pressure and heartburn and sleeplessness and sleeves of Oreos eaten while watching The Biggest Loser.

But my body endured it all. And produced two 7 pound little people who have been making my life very busy ever since. And 6 months later it ran 10 miles without stopping, like a warrior. 

At 36 weeks. 56 inches around. 247 pounds of fury.

This body endures. And over the next couple of years I'm going to see what it can really do. 

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Blogging 2015: 793 down, 1222 to go (Lurong Day 18)

So I've been out of communication for the last few days. I have a good reason. No, I wasn't laying on the living room floor eating cookies. My mother and my aunt were here from Arizona. So I kind of wanted to lay on the floor and eat cookies, but I restrained myself.

It really wasn't that bad.

It's my story and I'll tell it how I want.

My mother and I have a contentious history. I understand now as an adult that she did the best she could, but I know many of my personal issues stem from my relationship with my mother, and her relationship with her mother.  I have an overdeveloped drive to achieve, and an underdeveloped ability to appreciate my own accomplishments. Nothing is good enough. No grade high enough. No degree lofty enough. No amount of skill or knowledge is sufficient. My mother spent a large portion of her life hating her body, and by extension I have spent a large portion of my life hating mine. When I was a teenager I hated my face. My nose was too big, my eyes an ugly color, my jawline uneven, my glasses nerdy. Boys made fun of my "witch nose" and taunted me for being too tall. I got called "thunder thighs" and "fatty". I was 5'9" and weighed 140 pounds. Instead of saying "Fuck you, you stinking stunted pimply teenaged asshole" I internalized all those things and they became part of my inner monologue.

I still recall with perfect clarity the day a boy in my European History class tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a drawing. It was me in profile, wearing a witches hat. He had exaggerated my already large nose and drawn a wart on it. I tore it into tiny pieces in front of him and threw them into his face. Then I cried all the way home. Thinking about it still makes choke up. What kind of dipshit asshole does that to another person? In college I put on weight. I hit 200 pounds. I knew I was big. Walking out of the cafeteria with a sandwich one night, a guy walking past me with his buddy said "Maybe if you ate less you wouldn't be so fucking fat."  I turned to him and said "Maybe if you read more you wouldn't be such a fucking idiot." Then I went to my dorm room and ate my sandwich and berated myself for being so disgusting. I even had a guy in a bar tell me once (unsolicited) that he would never ask me out because "tall women look bad." Great. I'll just cut myself off at the knees. 

See this face? I used to hate it. Seems crazy, right?

I've done pretty much everything you can think of to punish myself for being fat and ugly. I starved, I took internet diet pills, I engaged in what I can only describe as exercise bulimia. I went on fad diets (cabbage soup anyone? The 3-Day Diet?), sometimes with my mother. I did Weight Watchers, and Nutrisystem (do not recommend that one, you'll fart your brains out), and Atkins, and South Beach. I would have success and feel happy briefly, then fall right back into self-hatred. It feels terrible to stand in front of the mirror and hate what you see. I've made great strides towards adopting healthier habits. I no longer work out to punish myself for being fat. I only do the things I enjoy. Running, CrossFit, yoga...these are all things that I find beneficial. They make me feel free, and strong, and centered. I do better at eating things that are not only enjoyable, but worthwhile. Food can be delicious and satisfying without inducing guilt. I can have treats without feeling like a failure.  But the self-criticism is still there, lurking below the surface. The way I talk to myself is shocking. If I said those things out loud to another person it would be a hate crime. This needs to stop.

I'm doing a month long challenge through my yoga studio. It involves taking classes and setting a goal. I have chosen to actively practice self-acceptance. (I would've said self-love, but that just sounds like I'll be masturbating all month.) I'm going to choose something to focus on each day and...not exactly meditate on it, but bring it to the forefront of my mind when negative self-talk starts to get too loud.  Today's phrase is...

This body deserves respect.

My body does not deserve hatred. It carries me through life with ease and has accomplished incredible things. 23 half marathons, 2 full marathons, 2 ultras, countless relays, hiking, biking, weightlifting. It has borne 3 children including a set of full term twins. It has recovered from births and surgeries and broken bones and illnesses. It is an amazing machine and it deserves my respect. This is my body. I will not hate it anymore.

I will not hate it anymore.

So. Now that I've spilled my crazy all over you, I'm going to show you what I ate today. Smooth transition, yeah? A couple of days ago I made toaster waffles because it's been a while and it's hard to make a Sunbutter/raisin/waffle sandwich without waffles.  Today I had a few with some real maple syrup and bacon. Perfect start to a fall morning.

Get in mah belly!

I went to a Barre class for day 1 of the studio challenge (Oh, it's at Jenstar in DePere if you're interested.). Yesterday at the box we did weighted walking lunges which always make my ass and hamstrings hurt. In the way that makes you whimper when you sit. Tonight is going to be fun at work. Barre was a shitload of planks (as usual, one step closer to that unassisted pull-up) and then a series of minute leg movements that always make me feel like my quads are going to burst into flames.  Fun times.  I wore this shirt to Barre.

Pitch Perfect, anyone?

This is a quote from a character named Fat Amy. I thought briefly that maybe it wasn't in keeping with my "no self hatred" deal, but then I thought it was perfect. Fat Amy loves herself, and she expects everyone else to see her awesome. 

I considered going to the box after Barre, but based on the scheduled WOD I figured I'd be doing myself more harm than good. I'll go tomorrow at 915. Instead I yakked with some chicks after class for a bit, then came home and had an egg in hell for lunch.

It's so good. There are no words.

Since I have to work tonight, I opted for a nap this afternoon. Surprisingly I was able to fall asleep pretty easily (it can be hard on my first night to nap since I had a full night's sleep on Wednesday). I got a few hours rest then got up and made dinner. Fantastic husband prepped some beef for jerky. We had a freezer meal, garlic sausage and peppers with cauli rice. It was really tasty.

Packers colors, natch.

The kids wanted to go for a walk after supper, so we obliged them and took the dog out for a few miles. It was a lovely evening. A bit windy, but bright and sunny. Hard to imagine that it'll be too dark for evening walks in just a few short weeks.

Seven days stand between me and my 24 day vacation. I am beyond excited. We're going to Pennsylvania for a few days for the Runner's World Festival and Half. We'll be doing a 3.8 mile trail run on Friday, a 5K followed by a 10K on Saturday morning, and a half marathon on Sunday morning. There's also a couple of dinners and a meet up with friends from Hood to Coast as well as some virtual friends from the sub-30 club. I'm not really a party person, but I'm looking forward to this. I'm also glad we have our own hotel room and won't need to share, because I'm going to enjoy socializing...but I still need a place to escape to when it gets to be too much. 

Salt mine tonight, box tomorrow. Hopefully I'll get the chance to watch a little of the Wisconsin Open weightlifting comp at the box on Saturday. That will depend on how much sleep I get and how well behaved the smalls can be. 

Happy October!!

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Blogging 2015: 776 down, 1239 to go (Lurong Day 13, Bellin Women's Half Marathon Race Report)

So I ran a half marathon this morning. Which by this time of the evening I've usually forgotten about. Sounds insane, right? Run 13.1 miles in the morning, get caught up in other stuff, run around chasing children, make dinner, get a cup of coffee, flop down in your chair and flip through Facebook.  Awww, look at all my friends who raced this morning! They look adorable! I wonder if that's a nice race....oh wait. I was there, too.

Oh, haaaaaaay...I ran this morning. That's probably why I showered earlier. Huh.

This was the inaugural running of the Bellin Women's Half-Marathon. I'm a sucker for an inaugural. I love to be present at the beginning of something. It feels...profound.

Good turnout, yeah?

The guest speaker at the dinner was Kathrine Switzer. She was really inspirational. She also had really, really good hair. If you don't know who she is or want more information, Google it. I'm not your mom.

The morning was too warm for my liking. I wore my pink plaid running dress. I didn't take a picture, sorry. It's the exact shade of pink my face turns when I run. It's comfy, and I love it, and I don't wear it often enough. I felt obligated to wear it today, this being a chick race and all. 

Breakfast was my standard pre-race. I forgot to photograph it, but it pretty much looked exactly like this.

The race begins at Bayshore Park, and we basically ran the length of Nicolet Drive, then onto East Shore, finishing at Bay Beach. There was more shade than I was anticipating, and that's a good thing, but it was warm and I could feel the salt crystallizing on my face and neck. One thing I will say about this race-it was extremely well supported. There were 9 water stops over the 13 miles, and they were very well placed. Nicolet is a scenic run (and I run it often...well, ran it, as I haven't "run" in a loooong time) with the Bay and the trees, etc. Even the whole "you don't turn until mile 10) thing is mitigated by the fact that the road follows the coastline, so it weaves back and forth.  

At the finish, Kathrine Switzer high fived me and told me she liked my dress. I geeked out just a bit. There was non-alcoholic champagne, brownies (didn't eat-too heavy), wraps (forgot about until I was already eating something else), and strawberry shortcake. Oh yeah, I took the cheat for the shortcake. It was fucking delightful. 

We also got a free ride on the Zippin Pippin, but I had to leave so I didn't take advantage. The medal was a medallion you can wear as a necklace. Not sure how I feel about it, if I'm being honest. It's pretty, but I have a medal rack, you know? This isn't really conducive to publicly displaying my level of athletic stupidity. 

See? Medallion.

I didn't really eat lunch. The shortcake was plenty filling (sorry, no was pretty). I showered up, got dressed, and got my stuff together to lead my daughter's scout meeting this afternoon. Fantastic husband is working today, so I also took the boys along. That was fun.

The meeting wrapped up early, so I took the kids over to the Budget Theater (one major bonus to having the scout meeting at the mall) to see the Minion Movie.  It was cute, I guess. I was pretty bored with it by an hour in, but the kids thought it was hilarious. I got them some popcorn. They were happy.

When we got home I had a package on the porch. It's my finished photobook from my pinup session back in July, just in time for fantastic husband's birthday (which is today). It's beautiful. I am super hot, in case you didn't already know that. Or at least I can be with enough make-up and photoshop (although I'm surprised at how little retouching they did, mostly just airbrushing out my many many bruises.

Garters are bullshit, BTW.

I really couldn't be arsed to make dinner, so I ordered a pizza. I didn't intend to eat any, but seriously I just needed to put some food in, so I had a slice of pizza. It was good...not OMG EAT IT ALL good, but you good. After supper I was cold, so I had a cup of coffee.  

I gotta stop listening to this cup. It's an asshole.


See how I forget running? Too much other shit going on. I finished well today, slightly faster than on Sunday and I felt better in the later miles. I have these moments during distance runs when I think "You know, I could maybe be good at this running shit if I tried harder", but then I think "Yeah, but then you'd have to try harder, and that is painful and time consuming" so I just go back to half-assing it.  

The kids are bouncing off the walls because their grandmother is scheduled to arrive tonight. I want to smother them all. I spent this entire week trying to denastify this place, and this afternoon I went upstairs to find glitter all over the bathroom counter and sink and stickers stuck in my hall carpeting. That makes me homicidal. I'm starting to understand why my mom wanted to throttle me pretty much my entire childhood.

Right now I'm going to head upstairs to wash the stink off the smalls. I also need to trim their nails, which is always a treat (how do they grow so long, and where does all that dirt come from?!?). Soon it will be time to tuck them in and stumble down the hall into my bed, and do you know what that will be? Glorious. 

Run the Bellin Women's Half!