Monday, December 06, 2010
This song is in honor of a lot of things. First off, it's for Lab-Lover (do you not know her? She is TOTALLY fab), who was quoted in the Runners' World blog and I know she loves Bruuuuuuce so I had to.
Plus I actually used to work at Dictaphone. Weird to work for a place known well enough to be a part of pop culture, eh? But then they were sold to Nuance Communications and became yet another mass-produced-named entity, but at least an actual word is their name, unlike new companies throwing the -ly suffix or the word blue or whatever onto a normal word in order to make something not thought of but ....
Well, let's just say there's a reason why such a fake-o word wasn't thought up before. They tend to be butt ugly.
But there's also the whole idea (the song is "Blinded by the Light") of light. It is -- duh! -- December. The month with the 20-darkest days of the year, and another 11 of the 22 next-darkest days of the year (the other 11 of those are in January of course).
Light is hard to come by. It evades us. It hides behind snow clouds and snow storms. It slips away at 4:30 and doesn't return until morning when you're chilled and wrapping blankets over your head and hoping that the alarm was somehow not set correctly even though you checked it so instead of it really being 5 AM or 6 or whenever you're really supposed to be up, that it was magically changed by the alarm gremlins some time during the night and it's really 2 AM and you can sleep for another few hours and wait for -- you guessed it -- the light.
So we compensate. We light Chanukah candles. We put up Christmas lights. Kwanzaa has candles. We crank up full-spectrum lights. We try not to curse the darkness.
And details, details! I find they are swirling around me and raining down on my head. The upstairs bathroom sink is clogged. Unemployment is, yet, again, asking me to call in because they have screwed up my file. And I cannot call them until later this week. They are rather courteous people, but sorry, I really don't want to be talking to them every single freakin' week. I may or may not have an interview tomorrow -- the recruiter and I keep missing each other. The house is cluttered and I am noticing it more because we are inside more. Work is all over the place, with some deadlines looming large because half of the company is off to India for three weeks to deliver scholarly papers.
These are, on balance, not horrible things. The plumber has been called and will be here in 48 hours or so. We are not so bad off financially that the Unemployment check can't be delayed for a few days. The interview is fairly likely to happen, it's just a matter of connecting to the recruiter. The house has always been cluttered and I have to be zen about it and remember that most of that cannot be quickly fixed. The company will be fine over the holidays.
And on and on.
I'll get through this, and so will you.
We will light our candles. We will curse the darkness, too. And, either way, it'll still pass at its own pace, in its own way, much like many things.
I am dancing around the same five pounds, and have been for a while. Now, of course my body is well aware of when I weigh 200 versus when I weigh 199. What my body doesn't know is why that particular difference (as opposed to 201 versus 200) is so important to me. So I can be positive, and patient. Or less positive, and want it to hurry up and, assuming I do the same things either way, it will all pass at its own pace, in its own way.
Light the candle.
But cursing the darkness is, I admit, kinda fun, too.
Keep room in your life for both.
Monday, November 29, 2010
This song has so many bizarre non-title lyrics that it took me a while to figure out which one I wanted. Coulda also gone with, hmmm --
* Like a Llama or an Emu
* A Picasso or a Garfunkel
* Haven't you Always Wanted a Monkey?
So if you don't like the furniture lyric, feel free to grab any of the other three. Mix and match! Collect the whole set! Be the first on your block!
I'm supposed to be blogging here.
I'm in an odd mood. Well, more odd than usual. Cantcha tell???
So I am up a bit this week but it's not tragic and will be gone at some point or another. I am dancing around near getting back to Onederland but I'm not quite there yet. And Thursday morning, before eating anything, I actually saw 199.6 on the scale and all I could think of was, "Dang, now I gotta go have Thanksgiving!"
I have changed. A lot.
And you've all helped.
So if I had a million dollars, well, you know I'd buy you a green dress (but not a real green dress, that's cruel). Huh?
Party on, Sparkies.
Monday, November 22, 2010
I firmly believe that a lot of us are here because of distorted self-images. We might have lied to ourselves about how good we thought we looked -- and did that for years -- and then suddenly, oops, we're huge!
That is what happened to me. I own a perfectly good full-length mirror, but it's in a different room and so it's very easy to avoid it. I would just look at the, heh, mirror in the bathroom, and I could only see my upper torso. While I saw my face was getting wider and wider and more distorted, I would tell myself, oh, it's not so bad. I'd ignore all other cues and signals, such as my own silhouette, or how I looked in reflected shop windows and the like.
Or you might see the opposite, where you think you're huge and unlovable but the truth is, it's not too awful and you deserve to be happy and healthy but you're just not seeing it.
We don't have to go into funhouses to distort our own selves, our own senses of self.
The truth can really be painful, I know. God knows, I know.
But it's got the benefit of being the truth going for it. Be kind, of course. This is not a license to trample on people.
But do tell them the truth.
And you'll find that you tell yourself the truth more often as well.
Monday, November 15, 2010
This is, hands down, one of my favorite songs of all time. It consistently makes my Desert Island Discs list. You know, the ten or twelve or so song-long playlist that you'd absolutely, positively HAVE to have if you were stuck on a desert island.
With food, fresh water, sunscreen, medical care and an iPod.
But apparently no means of actually contacting anyone and getting off said desert island.
But I digress.
The imperfections of the world continue to be thrown into stark relief. The skies are getting darker. The air is getting colder. Unemployment is running out. And the time is running, and it can feel like a running in place.
But it's just a Winter that's coming. It's not permanent. It's not a downfall. It's a means of rising up.
For alcoholics, when you hit rock bottom is when you make a choice. You either decide to live, and to recover, or you give up, and you begin to accelerate the process of dying.
This is not that heavy, of course. And it isn't even rock bottom, not by any stretch. But it is the feeling of despair that can come with Winter. That, for me, can come every single Winter. For as Veterans' Day slips away and Thanksgiving looms, the cold seeps in and the dark permeates and it holds itself in and I hold myself in and if I don't watch it, I become wrapped in my own flesh for months until I suddenly wake up in March and realize, heh, someone's gonna see my arms soon and so I'd better get them in shape again and shed some poundage.
Success is, without a doubt, a very good thing, and the best thing about it is being able to hold onto it during dark times. Even if it isn't weight loss success. Even if it isn't recent. Being good and capable, being loving and kind, being able -- this is what can be hung onto. It's what can lead you past darkness and remind you that this, too, shall pass, and that you'll be back out there soon enough and Winter -- although it may SEEM longer -- is really only ninety days.
If there is no sun in Wintertime, make your own.
Monday, November 08, 2010
Well, not bones.
I broke some of the better ones earlier this year.
And now I am finally recovering from that.
It's annoying. I spent about four months doing less working out less (June through September), and paid for it, big time, in weight gain, in slower 5Ks, in clothes not fitting as optimally (or even at all, in some cases).
Things are turning around, but it is a chore.
Here are some numbaz.
Total miles walked (per pedometer):
January 56.70 (I had abdominal surgery on the 15th, hence the total is low)
5K times (didn't run a 5K every month this year):
October *43:04 and 44:27*
July *175.55* -- I suspect that this is about when the scale broke; I just didn't know it yet
September *184.5* -- note half of the measurements are with the old broken scale, half without. When only the newer #s are used, the average is a far more believable 202
November so far 203.1
Big, big shocker here. Walk less, get slower in 5Ks. Gain weight. And lose the size 10s and 12s and re-embrace the 14s.
Not fun. Not fun at all.
So I'm seeing the changing back, and that's interesting. I'm doing what I can to not beat on myself for fouling up for so long. And I also don't want to use the convenient broken scale excuse, or at least not overuse it. After all, I was still eating, etc. Just not picking up on what was happening. But my clothes weren't broken. The race timers weren't broken. Just the scale.
I am a grown woman and am responsible for my choices and whatever consequences are derived therefrom.
I offer this information to those who are tempted to slack off -- although I suspect you will need to learn it for yourselves like I did.
No highway spurs.
But also ...
Just get out the glue and the nails and fix it.
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