Swan Song

After dinner at Napoli's last night with Lynn, Chicago Steve and a couple from Houston, I bowed out and let them continue the revelry til midnight or beyond; whatever minor ailment has been hanging on for the last week or so makes me sleepy by about 9:00pm, but the good thing is, it also makes me sleep deeply and through the night as my body fends it off.  I attribute this to my flu shot, which I get every year.  I’ve had some killer flues, and that might have been the full-blown version of whatever I’ve got now if I hadn't gotten that shot.

I just got back from our last walk.  The streets around the Riverside parking lot were closed off for some kind of race, so we drove to the overpass at Zilker Park.  For a New Year’s Day, at close to 8:45 AM, it was a sparsely populated trail, but it’s a cold and overcast morning.  I found myself smiling at everyone I passed, puffing and struggling and determined to get in shape, and sending up prayers for them to succeed at whatever goals they set.  I thought about how, after today, my walks are going to be different in at least one way:  I won’t be formulating a post in my head, but will be simply experiencing the moment.

Oh God, I’m going to miss this blog.  I don’t think I even realized how much until I typed those words.  This last month has been the most difficult of all – not only getting myself out to walk, but making myself write about it.  I just ran out of gas around December 1.  But sitting here right now, sipping my coffee and blogging (who would ever have thought I’d have a blog?), I know I’m going to go through some withdrawal.   Lots of friends and family have encouraged me to continue blogging, only about another topic, but I know this is the right thing – to let this experience come to an end and stand on its own.

Besides the fact that I’ve lost 27 pounds (and I am sticking with that – yes, I’ve gained 7 over the holidays, but those “fluff pounds” always come off the first couple of weeks of January), what I think has been the most profound benefit is that I now think of myself as a disciplined person.  Me.  Disciplined.  That adjective had never applied to me before – at least in my own estimation -- but if I can haul my body out of bed or off the couch and walk five miles, six days a week…..what else could I call it?  But I also know that no way, now how, could I ever have kept it up without this blog, without your encouragement, without the accountability of putting myself out there and having to deal with the embarrassment of not following though.

And God knows I couldn't have done it without Banks.  How I love that black and white dog.  Our relationship, already close, strengthened over the past year.  I love it that he is oblivious to how much went into this plan of mine, how hard it was and how deeply, deeply meaningful to me.  All he wanted to do was walk.  Walk with me.  Hang out with me.  If this blog had been more about Banks and less about me, we probably would have walked three miles a day; he could have lived without the extra two.  But there he was almost every day, my loyal companion, willing to do whatever I asked of him.  MOST days.

I have been as honest as possible, trying to maintain a positive and inclusive space here, without entirely losing my “real” personality, which can be sarcastic and a little dark.  Plenty of times I’ve read over my post, decided this or that statement was more snarky or crude than I wanted to present, and taken it out, even though it might have been, in my humble opinion, funny or profound.  And here’s something weird:  four or five times, no more than that, I have actually written my blog, then gone out for my walk and done exactly what I said I would do in that particular post.  What’s that about???  My take is that, for whatever reason, on those days I was feeling more anxious about getting the writing done than getting the walk completed. I didn’t like doing it, but I did it.  Once the words were written, I could relax and enjoy the walk.  And there have been a handful of times when I did not reach the entire five, either because I got lost or could not keep track of the time, but I always made note of those. 

So, what’s next?  I like the idea of retaining the discipline while being a little less rigid about the specifics. I have a gym membership.  I still love to walk.  I’m thinking two five-mile walks a week (Saturday and Sunday), and three gym visits, including resistance training.  I’m looking forward to getting the whole body in shape.  My legs may look fabulous, but from the waist up, I could use some work.

But I always start January 1 with a whole list of resolutions, big and small.   Here are this year’s.  Don’t laugh.

1.       Continue working on my book on birthmothers

2.       Show more love and less judgment

3.       Pick up three pieces of trash a day

4.       Be more disciplined in my prayer life

5.       Clean my car out every Friday

6.       Take myself less seriously

7.       STOP LOSING SO MANY THINGS  (this one is going to be tough)

I hope 2013 is kind to all of you, and challenging in the best way.  Thank you so much for hanging with me for the last 365 days.  I couldn’t have done it without you.  Keep in touch.

Love,
Leslie

Almost Done

Today was supposed to be my last walk and blog, but I just can't bear to end it on such an ordinary note. I have some (minor) NY plans which will preclude a night walk, it was raining pretty steadily this morning, as well as over lunch, so I just got back from a five miler starting from the office, down to the trail, then around downtown. It wasn't sprinkling so much as misting, it was damp and cold and uninspiring, and most importantly, Banks wasn't with me.  I just can't wrap this thing up without him.  Tomorrow morning I'm taking us down to the lake and we're going to finish in style.  At least I'm hoping. When I went there this afternoon, the west side was fenced off, and someone told me that was because they're hoping to do a fireworks display tonight (good luck) and that part of the trail is where the ashes are scheduled to drop.  Hopefully it will be taken down tomorrow.

Yesterday I had to return Lynn's car, which I'd driven back from Houston, because she caught a ride with others a day later, so I decided to start my walk from there.  I don't think we'd ever walked that particular section of Travis Heights, which was super hilly and somewhat stressful on my left knee, so it was a relief to stay on flat terrain today.

Oh, God, I STILL haven't come up with a firm fitness plan.  Aimee texted me while I was walking with some brilliant ideas, including pole dancing (POLE dancing?).  One really inspired idea was to try something new every week -- there are always yoga, boot camp, TKD or other things offered free for a week, and she thought that could be a good method of cross-training as well.  Intriguing, but I am a creature of habit, and I think veering from one thing to another would be jarring for me.

So tomorrow we come full circle.  My first walk was January 1, 2012, and my last walk will be January 1, 2013.  That feels just right to me.

Ian Bradley Vincent

Friday afternoon Lynn and I left for Houston for the memorial service, and it's a good thing I'd walked earlier; there was no time for it that night.  I had gotten up close to 1:00am that morning, and after Friday night's dinner gathering of friends and family, I was so tired that, sitting on my bed in the hotel, I was falling asleep while people talked to me. 

Fortunately, there was a gym at the hotel, just as I'd hoped; we were on a street called "Airport Drive" (or Road, or Blvd), and it was pretty commercial and not conducive to a good walk.  They kept the gym hot, I guess so you'd feel like you'd worked  hard, and there were TVs affixed to the treadmill, so the five miles went pretty quickly.  I finished up, went downstairs for the breakfast buffet, and promptly undid everything I'd accomplished in the previous hour and a half.

I had approached Ian’s memorial service with a mixture of dread – dread over witnessing his family’s grief first-hand – and sadness, such sadness, over the loss of this incredible young man.  Ian was a fourth year resident in anesthesiology in Seattle.  It was beautiful hearing the stories of his fellow residents in that program.  I believe Ian was going to specialize in pediatric anesthesiology, and his colleagues talked about the fact that Ian’s easy rapport with the children and their families was something they could only aspire to.  One said “He’d go out partying Friday night, then Saturday morning he’d come walking through the door with a little kid in his arms.”  In addition to his bedside manner, he was also technically brilliant.

Ian had a heart for those who were suffering, and had participated in medical mission trips all over the world.  In fact, he had just completed one of those, in Nepal, before flying to Australia to visit his uncle David (Vicky’s brother) for a few days, and that’s where the surfing accident happened. 

Before the memorial service, Lynn and I had talked about what to expect, and we both agreed that when someone this young (Ian was 31) dies, it’s tragic, pure and simple, and there just can’t be the kind of “celebration of life” aspect to the service that you see with the elderly or with someone who has died after a long illness.  But we were wrong.  There WAS humor and laughter interspersed with a lot of tears.  There is no way to revisit a life that well-lived without ultimately celebrating it.  

And I have a new heroine. Vicky, Ian's mom.  She is one of the most thoughtful, sensitive and soft-spoken people I know, and I foolishly expected her to be in pieces.  She was a model of composure and grace, and demonstrated a kind of strength I did not know she possessed.  I am in awe.

Below is Ian in Nepal; the photo was snapped by Matt, a doctor friend who also participated in the mission trip and was with Ian in Australia when he died.  I love this picture.

Last 4:00 AM walk, ever

I am fairly confident in making that statement.  After December 31, it's difficult to imagine being in the position I was in this morning, nervously chewing my nails, glancing at the clock, mentally rehearsing the things I had to do in order to be ready to leave for Houston at 3:00, including walking five.  AS ALWAYS, even on a fairly minor trip like this (two days! and driving!) I woke up about 1:30, overwhelmed with the details I should have taken care of last night but didn't.  Getting money from the bank.  Getting the house ready for Sam to dog- and cat-sit.  Washing the sheets.  Packing.  I stayed in bed til about 2:00, then gave up and started moving.  Slowly.  I have learned that I get so much more done when I move deliberately and thoughtfully through my tasks, rather than running around like the proverbial chicken with her mulleted head cut off.

We'll arrive at the pre-memorial service dinner around 7:30; I want to spend a lot of time with the people I love in that setting, and not have to worry about getting back to the hotel gym for an hour and a half workout, so.....off we went.  It was cold and a little drizzly, and not for the first time, I realized that as much as I have loved this project, it has a beginning, middle and end, and there are some things about the end that are worth celebrating.  Given the time - as I've said before, anything pre-5:00AM feels more like the middle of the night than the morning -- we avoided cavernous, deserted St. Ed's, and instead crossed Congress and walked the residential neighborhoods on that side of the street.  It's hilly and the streets are wider and the sidewalks are less cluttered, and I don't know why we don't do it more often.  I forgot to bring my phone, so had to guess at the time.  When I got back, convinced I'd completed the whole thing, I saw it had been a whopping 45 minutes.  Time drags when you're cold and wet and fighting off a sinus infection.  I left Banks at the house -- he looked grateful -- and went another 25, but really felt pressured to get back and continue my trip prep.  So I have another 20 minutes to make up tonight, but after an Italian dinner, I plan to walk through the hotel halls, up and down the stairs, and I'm actually looking forward to it.

I don't know about you, but I have that blah, post-Christmas malaise.  So much build-up, so many Christmas carols, so much good will and cheer, and then -- it's over. 

Four to Go

I ended up taking yesterday off, after realizing there would really be no problem fitting in my walk in Houston.  The memorial service is at 11:00 on Saturday, I'll be in a hotel, and get up, I'm sure, at my usual 5:00 or 5:30 a.m.  It will be a nice change of pace from what I'm sure you're tired of, and what I just got done with:  walked Banks to St. Ed's, went around the campus, went around the track, this time populated by three people and one dog, so no off-leash, blah blah blah....

But get this!  There was something really special about tonight's ordinary walk! Yesterday I was cleaning out my car, specifically the -- is it called the consule?  Something like that?  That compartment between the two front seats where you keep things like CDs, receipts, trash?  I pulled everything out, and there it was....my long-lost ipod!  I know I lost two of these over the past year, but here's where it gets weird.  I SWEAR it's the same ipod that I put through the wash and found at the bottom of the washing machine.  Even though it was totally broken -- I tested it again and again -- I couldn't bear to throw it away, because it still looked perfect.  And that compartment is exactly the kind of place where I tend to keep things like that, things that serve no immediate purpose, but might very well come in handy down the road.  And I charged it, and put in ear buds.....and it works!  Perfectly!

If it is that ipod, and I really want to think that it is, it lends credence to my long-held philosophy that, if you set aside and ignore a problem long enough, it will resolve itself. That is my Type B, middle child way of looking at the world, and damned if it doesn't work half the time. 

Yuletide Freeze

Okay.  Christmas is over. Here is what I did last night, just before I went to bed, to make it official:  I took the Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies out of the fridge, poured water over it, and let it sit overnight.  I am DONE.  Done with overindulging, with mindless eating, with the faint headache that comes with sugar coursing through my veins.  I'm due to have bloodwork drawn on Friday.  Will my daily five-mile walks be reflected in those numbers at all??  I shudder to think what my cholesterol will read.  I really don't know how this works -- whether the results are cumulative or can spike alarmingly -- but I do remember way back in my 30s, I had bloodwork drawn, the cholesterol was a little high (it never had been before), and I suddenly remembered my trip to KFC the night before.  Well, I'll deal with it.  All I can do is just get back on track, starting today.

I had intended to let Christmas day be my day off for this last week, but after dinner, I felt a little stir-crazy, and Banks seemed restless.  Not only that, I have to be in Houston for a memorial service on Friday and Saturday, and doing the math, it's hard to figure out where the walk will fit in.  The much-anticipated cold front arrived late in the afternoon, and the temperature dropped steadily. I put on my warmest hoodie, but couldn't find my my gloves, so I put on a pair of thick black athletic socks which did a great job. 

Somewhere back in the winter days of this blog, I think I said something about how, no matter how cold it was starting out, I always end up taking off my gloves.  Not this walk -- oh, it was freezing!  Overnight the temps dropped to the high 20s, and I'm not sure how low the mercury was when Banks and I went to St. Ed's around 7:00 last night, but it was as cold as any walk I remember.  I knew St. Ed's would be deserted, and it was.  I did not see one human walking around the entire hour and a half, and only two cars, one of them a St. Ed's police cruiser.  Once we covered sufficient ground, we ended up back at the soccer field, and of course I let Banks go off leash, even during our treks up the steep hill; he happily romped around the street and the yards overlooking the track, occasionally stealing a glance up at me like "Am I really allowed to do this?"

The best part of the whole night was that we -- and apparently we alone -- were the audience at a beautiful bell concert of Christmas carols.  It came from one of the buildings, but I couldn't tell which one.  How do they do that?  It was definintely clanging bells, not a recording.  And it was beautiful and magical in the midst of the cold and the dark.  A perfect way to end Christmas.

Christmas Eve

Did I mention that my niece Allison and her new husband Jason were in town yesterday, on their way to spend Christmas in Houston?  When we were all together in New Orleans last month, they were among my most devoted and supportive family members in regards to committing to the five mile walk every day we were there.  So I wasn't surprised when Allison insisted that we do the same yesterday. 

Our plan was to walk to church, which is 2.7 miles from Lynn's house, and back, for Christmas Eve-eve services.  It was a good plan, but we underestimated our ability to get back to the house by 4:00, after a 1:50 showing of "The Life of Pi" at the Westgate.  En route, we frantically abandoned the plan in favor of driving to the Wells Fargo parking lot at the intersection of Barton Springs (or is it Riverside?) and South Congress, and then took off.  We started off on foot at 4:30 and got there, a little late, at 5:05, and that was going FAST.  We walked back, checked to make sure the cars hadn't been towed, and continued walking up the hill to Perla's for a seafood dinner, an extra ten minutes up and back -- a perfect five miles. 

Today was a retro piecemeal walk.  I walked to Lynn's house and back (two miles) with my laptop, hoping Jason and Allison could help me figure out a softward problem (they couldn't), dropped Banks off at the house, and continued on for two miles around the neighborhood. Today is so beautiful it's a crime to be indoors, especially since the temperatures tomorrow drop to close to freezing, and are going to stay frigid for the rest of 2012.

Have you seen "Pi"?  I went into it with no expectations whatsoever, and little interest, and was just blown away.  It's been one of my favorite movies all year.  Beautifully written and acted, the type of film you find yourself thinking about all that day and well into the next.  I don't usually see movies twice, but there was a lot of symbolism that wasn't sprung on you til the very end, and I feel like I need to go back and take it all in again.

After lots of fun and activity over the past weeks, the boys and I are going to have a quiet, low-key Christmas eve and dinner tonight. Merry Christmas to all of you.