This is going to be a very short post because I’m freaking out right about now.
The Tri is in 3 days. And, while yes, I knew it was coming. And I’ve been counting down to it. Somehow it still didn’t feel “real”.
It’s all kinds of real now. I have been assigned a race-bib number (#312). And a swim wave number (#3 with the orange caps). It’s happening, you guys. It’s official and real and OH. MY. GOAT!
If you need me, I’ll be in the corner, hyperventilating. And sobbing.
163 days ago, I broke my comfort zone. I don’t know what I was thinking of at the time, but it seemed then like a really good idea.
14 days from now, it will be done. My life will be forever changed, for good or bad. I think it will be for good, so that’s how I’m approaching it.
I had such high hopes and grand plans to get ready for this. I started a “Couch to 5K” program, since I HATE RUNNING. I knew it would be my least favorite portion, so I thought I would train most on that. Within a month, I had a beautiful squishy lump on my knee and couldn’t run. It was identified as runner’s knee and was followed by 2 months of PT. I will be walking the running portion.
I’m getting pretty good at the biking portion. For years, I said I was going to start riding my bike to work, since I live only 7 miles away from the Gas ‘n Sip. This gave me an excuse to actually do it. Of course, I am incredible at coming up with excuses to NOT ride, but so far, I have gotten more use from my bike this summer than I have in the past 10 years.
The swimming was the portion I was least worried about. However, putting on a wetsuit? YIKES! I decided that I would deal with it with the same attitude I deal with getting a massage – they have seen bodies FAR better and FAR worse than mine. And after I attended a swim clinic, that is so true! I’m fine.
I have 2 weeks to mentally prepare. I’ll get there.
And thanks to my extraordinarily generous friends (and some strangers) I have managed to raise almost $750 for breast cancer research. That was the main purpose of signing up. I’m very pleased about that fact.
Thank you for your support! I’ll let you know how it goes.
I signed in here yesterday with every intention of shutting this blog down. Clearly I haven’t been writing anything. And when I try to write something, it just sounds to me trite and self-absorbed. And since I don’t imagine anyone else would want to read that, I thought it would be best to just say good-bye, shut it down, and move on.
When 2011 started, I was in a really good place. I wasn’t eating processed sugar. I was eating mostly unprocessed, “real” food, I was journaling every day, I had a morning ritual, and I was setting exercise goals that scared the bejeezus out of me. And for the first time since I could remember, I was able to say “I’m happy” and really mean it. Even work didn’t suck.
As the year has progressed, all of those things have, one-by-one, slowly fallen by the wayside. I feel as if I have let myself fall back to a yucky place. I have let myself fall. I have let myself down. Again.
Yes, I did it before, and I can get back up and start again. But right now, it just seems like so. much. work. Getting back to that place seems so hard; so far away.
So, yesterday, signing in to shut this down seemed like a good idea, initially. Then when I got here, it just seemed like one more thing that I would let go. One more step down the path, going the wrong way. I also read another blog post about why one “should” blog, with really well thought out reasons. I decided that was fate. Someone or something was telling me to hang on for a little while longer.
And here we are. A new blog post – such that it is. A shimmer of something that is telling me to not give up. To start journaling again. To change my mind again.
It still feels like I have so far to travel back to where I started the year, but also, I don’t feel like I can give up. Again. I liked being happy. I liked feeling “lighter”.
Thank you for stopping by and for not giving up on me. There hasn’t been much to see around here, I know. So, thank you. I appreciate it.
So, I had mentioned that I would keep you updated with my training for the Tri. Yeah, I suck. I’ll do it now.
So much has been going on.
First up, I am down to 138 days before the event. OhEmGee!
My plan for training was that I would start with running training, since that is my weakest “event”. Then when the weather gets warmer, I will add in biking to work. And then around June or so, I would start with swimming. In a previous life, I was a competitive swimmer, so I’m not too worried about the swimming portion.
Right after I signed up, I started on a Couch-to-5k program. There’s an app for that. I thought that would be a good way to ease in. Week 1, you run 1 minute, walk 90 seconds, 8 times, with a 5 minute warm-up and cool-down. And each week you add in a little more running and a little less walking. Granted, my running speed, according to charts I’ve seen, qualifies as a “brisk walk”, but so what. I’m doing it. So far so good.
I am prone to plantar fasciitis, so in order to prevent injuries, a friend took me to a running store where I got myself professionally fitted running shoes. They make my feet look big and clunky, but they have good stability in the heels. While I was there, I also signed up for their running club because they offer coaching on tri-training. Cool. I’m in.
I made it through 2 1/2 weeks of the C25K training.
And then, my knee started getting wonky.
I think I have water on the knee. It’s all swollen in places that aren’t normal. So I bought a knee brace. It helped, but wasn’t great.
My sister found out from my mother that I had signed up for the Tri. She offered me her membership to the Y so that I could swim. I know, right? How cool was that?? The caveat was that I had to take my niece with me sometimes. It will help her with her swimming.
So, in order to give my knee a break, I went swimming. Remember how I said I used to swim competitively? Yeah. Clearly, that was a LONG time ago. Swimming is hard! *heheh* It will still be the easiest portion of the race for me, but it won’t be easy. And considering, I will have to wait until July to do any actual ocean swimming – due to the fact that even then, the ocean temperature will be around 60 degrees – it will be a challenge.
Also, I started on the stationary bike. Clearly easier than riding on the actual street, but again, I felt I needed to give the knee a rest.
I gave my knee about 2 weeks to not take the pounding and tried the running again. I did okay with it. Still not 100%, but I’ll take what I can get.
And while all this was going on, I had a little break down. My happy pills were not working. I cried all the time. I knew that I was a failure because I couldn’t run as well as everyone else. Just add this to the list of everything I have failed at. And on and on. It was really pathetic. My mother finally called me on it and told me to call the doctor to get them adjusted. I called, and I cried while making the appointment. The doctor came into the exam room and I burst into tears. Nice.
We adjusted things and I seem to be getting back on track. Even someone at work told me that my Chi was low the other day. So clearly others have noticed. I’d like to think it’s a function of my jarring something loose with the exercise but I know it’s a sign that I’m a little bit crazy.
Anyhoo. When I signed up for the running club, evidently my name was entered into a lottery to get a registration for a 10k in August. The race is a pretty big deal around here – we get runners from all over the world participating and the 6,000 registration slots usually fill up in about 30 minutes. Personally, I have absolutely NO desire to run a 10k. So I’m going to find out if I can give my slot to someone at work.
I start running training with the running club tonight. I’m hoping that some seasoned runners will give me some help with my form to help with my knee issues.
Last night, I did my first-ever spin class. Holy goat, that was hard!! I haven’t sweat that much in a long long time. There were some hate-vibes aimed at the leader during the class. But by the end, I was thinking, yeah. I’ll do this again. My lady-bits are a little sore today, though. And the standing hills we did on the bike wonked my knee. So, back to the ice and ibuprofen. It gets easier, right?
So that’s the long long (very long) version of what I’ve been up to. I am doing things that I’ve never done before. I’m more willing to try things. I’ve been swimming a bunch of times and biking. And running. Who knew a card-carrying couch potato could do this?
I’m pretty proud of myself. And I’m looking forward to seeing what else I can do. And I’ll do better with updating this. A few people at work have been inspired by my story, and have started some form of exercise as a result. That gives me a warm, yummy feeling.
Okay. Enough now. I have to go ice my knee.
UPDATED: I forgot to mention that I really was fated to participate in this event. There are 1,100 registrations available for it, and those filled up in 4 1/2 minutes. Four. And. A. Half. Minutes. I registered on my phone, while at a swim meet. What are the chances that I got in?? I’m still astounded.
So….
The focus of my year, as I’ve mentioned, is kindness. To be kinder to myself and others.
One of the ways I have been kinder to myself is to eat better. I realized the other day, that quite without trying, I had not eaten anything processed or pre-packaged since the beginning of the new year. I knew I wanted to eat better things, and evidently that, coupled with my intent to eliminate processed sugar, led me to eat only things that are “real”. Go me!
As an aside, after that realization, I ate pizza before a hockey game. Dear goat. It was SO good, but SO filling. I had 2 1/2 slices (cut a 3rd in half) at around 5:30 and was full until morning. Who knew?
But I had another realization last night, when I was hit with a wave of loneliness so big that I thought I was being suffocated. Unless I wanted to get out of bed and saute up some Brussel sprouts or asparagus, I was going to have to actually “feel” this feeling and see where it took me. You see, previously, I would have gotten myself a snack of ice cream or chips or something else, and numbed my mind so that the feeling of loneliness would be crushed back down and I could go on as usual.
Not having the snack to anesthetize myself forced me to ride the wave. I cried. I hugged Maggie and Seamus. I journaled. I was able to get the feeling out. To go through it and experience it. At the time, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. I REALLY wanted a snack. But since I hadn’t bought any, I couldn’t. Once the wave subsided, and I was able to gain a little distance, I knew that this is a good thing.
Actually feeling your feelings. Whoda thunk that such a simple concept would be so profound? I didn’t. For more years that I care to admit, I have eaten my feelings. I don’t want to do that anymore. I won’t do that anymore. (Because, really. You can’t mask feelings with vegetables, let’s be honest. ) So, my pledge for 2011: feel whatever comes up. Look at it. Examine it. Then put it down and let it go. I know it won’t be easy. I know I will stumble and reach for that… um… popcorn, I guess. But, with my sincere apologies to REO Speedwagon, it’s time for me to fly, and I can’t do that with all this baggage.
Wish me luck. This is gonna be good. I can tell.
Hi. I’m Mary, and I’m addicted to sugar.
Hi Mary!
I’m sure I have spoken about this here before. Of course I have. This blog is about me. And I am somewhat self-absorbed. *heh*
So, anyway. I am addicted to processed sugar. And it’s gotten so much worse. So, as of midnight, I am done. I am going cold turkey.
There will be some relapses, but starting today, I am detoxing. Why today and not January 1? Because I have the next 4 days off and I know that I will have headaches and be really bitchy and irritable and I figured the fewer people who have to be exposed to me during this, the better.
So if you see me on Twitter and I am crankier than normal, I apologize. I’ll be better soon. And then my sweetness with be genuine, not processed.
Talk soon.
Dear Designers:
I am a woman of substance. I am a woman of size. I am not a size 2. I don’t look like Taylor Swift or Angelina Jolie or even Jennifer Hudson (now). I have curves – boobs, booty, tum. All of it. And do you know what? I look good.
I have very good taste. I am stylish. I like nice clothes. I like to dress nicely.
Yesterday, I told the world about an event in which I took part. I wanted to look nice for that event. I thought a new dress would be appropriate. So off I went to the local mall – a place I loathe, by the way – to find a dress. How hard can this be, I thought?
I will not be mentioning store names directly. Why? Because stores stock what you, the designers, makes. I. Blame. You.
The first store I went to had a limited selection of clothes for women of substance. Mostly, there were sweatshirt-type clothes. Really? Fat women only deserve sweats? Don’t even get me started.
Store number 2 had a huge selection of dresses. There must have been 25 racks of dresses. 24 of these racks had sizes no bigger than a 10. The last rack? So called “Plus” sizes, but all were very “blingy” and appropriate for, say, the mother of a bride at a mafia wedding. Um. No.
Store number 3 had one rack, and 2 wall displays of dresses. They were all 100% polyester and would have been appropriate for, say, a church outing at the retirement home.
Really, designers? Are all fat women old? Are we all lazy? And dumpy? And slovenly? Should we all be looking at Wilson Tent and Awning for our clothes? Should we hide the fact that we are beautiful and sexy and fun and confident? Why can’t we wear the same clothes as the “Misses” sizes, but just in our sizes? (I might have included Juniors sizes there, but that is a whole other post.)
I know I am not the first person to complain about this. I know that this post will never be seen by anyone in the fashion industry. And while I accept that, it makes me sad. You are missing out on a whole demographic. A wonderful demographic that has money to spend. A lot of money. A demographic that will represent you well and make you proud.
I hate the word “fat”. I hate that “Plus” is a term used to describe full-figured women. I hate that we are looked on as lesser individuals. I hate that we are labelled. I hate than anyone is labelled.
We are not lesser. We are not inferior. We deserve so much more. You are missing out on so much.
I hope some day you will learn that. I hope one day, we will get the respect we deserve.
Regards,
Mag And Moo.
Have you ever gone to see a Notary Public? You know, when you need your signature verified – you might need a notarized copy of something? I’m a Notary. It’s not hard to become one. And normally I don’t even consider it to be a big deal. Until…
Monday last, after my latest trip to Canadia, I was back in the office, thinking about how much I wished I was somewhere, anywhere, else. Then the local Director of Foreign Affairs asked if he could talk to me in the conference room. My first thought? “Oh, goat. Now what??”
The DFA never, NEVER, talks about his personal life at work. Ever. So we sit down and he says, “You may know that I got divorced 5 years ago.” No, how would I know. YOU NEVER TALK ABOUT YOURSELF. He went on: “I have been with my girlfriend for about a year and a half and we are getting married.” Me: Okay. Congratulations? Him: “You are a Notary, right?” Me: OMG! Can I marry you?? Him: “That’s what I was hoping you would do. It will be a very small ceremony. It will be at ___ hotel, then we’ll have champagne. No one here knows.”
Side note: only 3 states allow their Notaries to perform marriage ceremonies. I happen to live in one of them.
What happened next? In true MagandMoo fashion, I proceeded to freak out. Why? Because this is a HUGE event in someone’s life and what if I screw up? I knew that this was in no way about me. At all. But I kept thinking that if I didn’t do a good job, the focus would then shift to me and take it from the bride. I didn’t want that. It was their day. I was just given the honor of being a part of it.
I found some non-religious based vows online and made a few tweaks to them. Then I printed them out so that I could practice on the cats. (They were so no interested.)
So, yesterday, I went to ___ hotel at the appropriate time. I was the first one there – which was fine, because I totally thought I would be late. The DFA and his friends showed up and proceeded to give everyone a glass of cognac. At 10am. Sure. Why not.
Everyone milled around a bit for about 30 minutes. Then we hear the elevator ding, and the bride was there. We got into position and the bride came in – so lovely, so young, so giggly – in a beautiful dress, elbow length gloves, hair all pretty.
After I read the first part of what I had down-loaded, I looked at the groom – normally very serious and business-like at work. He had tears in his eyes. It was so sweet. So touching. And I knew I had found the right things to say.
We did the intentions portion. Then the exchange of rings. The groom started cheering. I had to stop him to get to the part of “You may kiss your bride”. She kept giggling.
The whole ceremony took about 15 minutes. It was his 2nd wedding, but her first. She looked so happy. Even the DFA looked happier than I have ever seen him. There were lots and lots of photos – I believe I was fortunate to avoid most – if not all – of the lenses. I was hugged and thanked and told it was an honor that I had done this thing for them. But to me? *I* was the one honored to have been part of it. No one else from the Gas ‘n Sip was there. And I can’t tell anyone! It’s not my story to tell.
When I got my Notary license, I always thought it would be fun to marry people. But then when the time came? I really *got* what a big deal this was. I was able to make this young bride’s dream come true. I changed the lives of these 2 people. Forever.
I don’t know if this union will last – I hope it does. They are certainly adorable together. But I do know that I will forever thank them for granting me the honor of being a part of their day in such a personal way.
So what did you do this weekend?
I’m back.
I’ve been listening to a book by Jill Smolinski called “Next Thing on My List”. Have you read it? I wasn’t sure how it would be – I was a little afraid of it being uber-chick lit in the worst possible sense.
But really? It’s pretty good. It’s the story of a woman finishing a “Wish List”. But it’s not hers. June was driving the car that was in an accident which killed her passenger. The passenger had a list of goals that she wanted to accomplish before she was 25. June decided to complete the list for her – at first out of guilt, but then as a way of changing her life. It’s somewhat predictable, but there are some twists that make it worth continuing.
Anyhoo. It got me thinking. I kind of want a list. Sure, I have a “bucket list” but that’s more of a “someday-I-wanna” list, as opposed to having an actual target date. Granted, I kissed 25 goodbye a long time ago, but what if I did a list of goals by 45? That gives me a year and a half, +/-. I think I could set myself some pretty aggressive goals if I had 20 months in which to complete them.
Could I do it? What if I don’t finish? Would I feel like a failure or would I still be celebrating the attempt? Am I just considering the list in light of my recent spate of life changing adventures? Am I trying to take on too much? Or is this just Scaredy Kat getting her way again?
In the book, the list contained 20 things – some are easy, some are profound. What would I put on my list? Would it be 20 things?
Would you do a list? Do you already have a list? What should I put on my list?
Challenge me.
Oh, hello! I made sandwiches. Help yourself.
Last night was the first “class” of Reform School. It was exciting and fun and scary.
We learned more about inner mean girls and the sort of categories into which they fit. Turns out, I have no less than 7 mean girls with me. All the time.
This week’s assignment is to get to know our mean girls. You might think you know her (them), but do you? Really?
So far I have met one. She is the leader. She bosses me and all the other mean girls around. Her name is Mean Marcy.
She keeps me from EVERYTHING. Why walk when I won’t lose the weight anyway. Why try new things when being afraid is what I know now. Marcy has been very busy.
I need Marcy to go on vacation. A long one. And she needs to take her friends with her. I’m exhausted from listening to her and all her lies.
I’m realizing that this post won’t make sense to many of you. (You know, because there *are* so many of you. *heh*) (Thank you for stopping by, BTW.) So I’ll keep it short. Marcy has some explaining to do. And the others need to introduce themselves to me.
Maybe then I will get to put some of those lies to rest. And I can show the world my fabulousness.
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