Another Destination Walk

Last night my fabulous real estate agent Cathy Trifiro invited me and my sister to dinner (both of us have been her clients).  Ever on the lookout for a destination walk, I googled how many miles her house was from my office -- 7.2 miles.  Too many.  I tried out a few more locations, and finally settled on the big HEB on 41st and Red River.  From there to her house was 4.8 miles.  So I parked there, walked from the far northeast corner of the parking lot to the entry off of Red River, figuring that filled in the remaining .2 distance, and started out.

It started out hot and muggy but got cooler and windier as the walk progressed.  It was a VERY simply walk -- north on Red River, west on 45th, north on Shoal Creek.  I was never without a sidewalk, and it's amazing how far I've come in the "It takes a lot to make me self-conscious" game.  I used to feel a little conspicuous when walking on heavily trafficked areas, but with my sunglasses and sneakers on, I just go for it.

We had a fun dinner of wine, salad, bread and grapes and talked about dating (or not dating), shoes, kids, work, hair and mutual friends.  A fun girls' evening in.  And if you're buying or selling, you couldn't ask for a more hardworking, dedicated, honest and screamingly fun realtor than Cathy.

Breakthrough

For the past week or so, I’ve been operating under a cloud.  Not a full-fledged depression, and not a big specific problem that I can identify.  Just a gnawing kind of anxiety, even dread.  It takes the joy out of my walks, and makes everyday problems loom large.  I asked myself:  has my body gotten used to five miles a day, and no longer responds as positively?  Is it chemical?

Yesterday I decided I’d had enough. I brought my shoes and a long-sleeved t-shirt to work, and left the office around 11:30.  It was misting, and I wavered for a moment – the last thing I needed was to get caught in a downpour miles from the office – but decided to forge ahead. I went to Lady Bird Lake, where I walked my usual route, but in the opposite direction.

For most of it, the sun remained hidden, keeping things cool; on the few occasions when it made an appearance, it warmed considerably.  I took full advantage of my Banks-less state and walked hard, harder than I have in a long time.  When I stopped for water, it was two gulps only and then back on the trail.  I don’t remember thinking about much.  When I’d feel myself slowing to the point that I was comfortable, I’d ratchet it up again, passing those in front of me, or keeping pace with a figure in the distance who was really motoring.  I was aware of an almost constant ache in my thighs that comes when I’m really pushing myself.

As I approached the 0 mile mark, I found a couple of stones and left them at the base of the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue.  I got this idea from Kristin Armstrong, one of my favorite bloggers. A marathon runner, she places stones to symbolize the leaving behind of something, and returning home with a lighter load.

I got back to the office sweaty and panting, but I didn’t care.  Something had been left behind, something unidentified but oppressive. I’d like to think it now resides in those stones.

Oscar Sunday

I had a premonition yesterday morning that The Artist was going to win big at the Oscars that night, and as it was one of the few nominated films I hadn’t see, I put off my afternoon walk and took in a matinee.  It was great.  Jean Dujardin was irresistible – French, and he tap dances? – and about halfway into it, I realized I had a smile on my face virtually the whole time. But that put me on a tight schedule to get my walk in, as my sister Lynn, who makes an event of the Oscars, was coming over to watch it with us.  Banks and I took off for our usual St. Edward’s route, but somewhere along St. Edward’s (Drive? Boulevard?) I noticed a trail going through the woods.  How had I missed that?  We got on it, and spent close to an hour on it, lost.  One trail led to another, and when I finally thought I’d found daylight, came up against a 6-foot locked chain link fence. Finally we encountered three St. Ed’s students taking a discreet weed break down by the creek, and they cheerfully pointed us to one of the entrances. 

It was great!  Lots of little hills, jutting tree roots, some stony embankments, a shallow creek to rock-hop over – really more of a hike than a walk.  It was a great find, and I look forward to exploring it more thoroughly in the coming days.

Don’t know if the reviews are in, but I thought the Oscars were great -- loved Billy Crystal, loved the two guys who truly didn’t think they were going to win and had nothing planned, and finally said, Let’s get outta here, loved all the French speeches, and Meryl’s.  Lynn’s dog Maccabee heard a dog bark on one of the commercials, and here he is, searching intently for his canine counterpart.

Split Shift

I had a 10:30 meeting this morning, and woke up too late to walk the whole five miles.  I couldn’t bear to walk out the door and leave Banks behind again, so I compromised.  We walked 2.5 miles through St. Edwards, I dropped him back home, went about my business, and then we resumed the next 2.5 miles through Big Stacy around 5:00. It was a nice change.  Now it’s off to dinner at Brian and Mark’s.  My friends are indulging my recent fascination with Doris Day movies, and on the menu tonight is “The Man Who Knew Too Much.”

Enjoy this beautiful, clear cool weekend.

Confessions of a Knitting School Drop-out

Yesterday I planned on doing my walk over the lunch hour, but a former coworker came by to eat with her old colleagues and of course I preferred eating lunch with Monica over walking five miles in 80+ degrees.  Problem was, I had knitting class after work, and getting home after that would put me close to 9:00 pm, which would be the latest I’d ever started my walk, so I decided to skip class.  Truth be told, my crappy hat was looming large, and maybe I was looking for a way out.  So I walked instead.  Marcy called me afterwards to report that EVERYBODY had knitted crappy hats, that Latifa had made virtually everyone pull out multiple rows and start over again, and that I would have been just fine.  That made me feel a little better, but I stick by my decision:  I am not ready to find out what it feels like to miss my five for the first time.

This morning, I met my friend Brian (yes, she’s a woman whose father wanted a boy) for my long-deferred breakfast at Mi Madres, five miles from my house.  Her workplace is about ½ mile from my house, so she drove me back.  A true “norther” blew in last night, and was still pretty active at 5:15 when I started out.  I got blown about quite a bit, but the real triumph was in crossing I-35 at Dean Keaton without getting flattened by a truck.  As far from relaxing as that walk was, it reminded me, once again, how good it feels to get the thing out of the way in the morning and not have it pressing on you for the rest of the day.

And once again, I came away from breakfast feeling refreshed, affirmed, lifted.  I have always said that Brian (with apologies to my other brilliant friends) is probably my smartest friend.  Mechanical-smart (she and her husband are remodeling their house themselves, INCLUDING PLUMBING AND WIRING), people-smart (great at helping you untangle a relationship problem) and common sense-smart.  And funny.  Any my spiritual sister.  Here we are after breakfast.  The mullet progresses.

Blue

I feel sad today.  I don’t know why, and I’m not much interested in why.  I accept the occasional blue day as the price of living. I also don’t feel the need to snap myself out of it.  When I’m sad, I just want to feel sad until I’m not sad anymore. I would like to say that Banks picked up on my mood, as we walked our usual five-mile loop around the lake this morning.  But he’s a dog, and was on a walk, so no, he didn’t.

When I feel like this, I don’t want to hear the pounding or upbeat music that usually accompanies me on my walk.  I want to hear something that matches and respects my mood.  This past Christmas I downloaded “Hard Candy Christmas” by Dolly Parton, and on this walk, I found myself hitting the replay button over and over again.  The singer has obviously experienced a major loss, and, trying not to sink into self-pity, explores all the different ways she might re-invent herself.  “Maybe I’ll dye my hair….maybe I’ll learn to sew….maybe I’ll buy a car and drive so far they’ll all lose track.”

The voice is tremulous and brave at the same time, and every time I hear it, quick, unexpected tears spring to my eyes. Dolly didn’t write the song, but nobody could have interpreted it like she did. 

Actually – I just thought of this – maybe it was the junk I ate yesterday.  WHY do I feel the need to join in minor celebrations, like Fat Tuesday?  Someone brought sticky buns, and two people baked King’s Cakes.  I sampled them all, and felt sick afterwards.  Two different people wondered if, now that my body has gotten so healthy, it may have lost its tolerance for this kind of sugar explosion.  Intriguing.

Aftermath

Did I run in yesterday’s marathon, or just watch it?  Our walk started out very gingerly.  Usually, whenever I’m sore, it’s a very generalized kind of soreness, or tightness , in my legs.  Today, it was a series of four or five pinprick sites of pain, in the center knee, back of the knee, back of the thigh, and even the lowest of the lower back. What’s that about?  Sympathy pains for the marathoners?  Residual damage from my irregular walk yesterday?  Warning signs of a heart attack?  I kept fantasizing about a massage therapist digging his thumbs into the pressure points.  I convinced myself that, whatever the kinks were, I was working them out with long, fluid strides, and by the end of the five miles, I was feeling a little better.

I was in period piece heaven last night as Downton Abbey ran for four hours straight.  Last night was the season finale, so let me catch you up just so that you’ll be ready for season 3:  Matthew, as I suspected all along, was misdiagnosed; he was actually suffering from a little-known condition called “spinal shock,” and is now walking and fully functioning.  He finally gave up the ghost of his saintly dead fiancée Lavinia, and proposed to Mary, who, in a rare moment free of self-sabotage, accepted.  Lord Grantham recognized the folly of comingling with the serving class, and accepted Jane’s resignation.  Bates was sentenced to hang for murdering his ex-wife, his sentence was commuted to life in prison, and the process of overturning his conviction begins.  Thomas blew his chance at scoring big on the black market, and, newly humbled, has successfully lobbied for the position of Lord Grantham’s valet.  (BTW, the aristocracy pronounces “valet” to rhyme with “mallet.”)  Sybil fled to Ireland and married the family chauffeur; and poor, plain Edith continues her unsuccessful search for love. 

Now let's all settle in and wait for Season 3.

Marathon Sunday

Today is the Austin Marathon. I have always loved lining the streets to watch the runners and walkers at various stages of the race, but the traffic and the crowds have prevented me from doing it very often. But now I'm one block off South Congress -- the four-mile mark of the race.

Last night's near-miss scared me enough that I would have done my walk early anyway, but with the race's 7AM start time, I didn't have much choice. At about 7:20, Banks and I got to South Congress, and saw one lone runner, with no one else even close, loping south. I'm pretty sure he's the guy who eventually won the race. As we turned north on Congress, the racers multiplied exponentially. I heard both 12,000 and 18,000 bandied about, but it was clear there were thousands and thousands.

I had already decided to give myself an easy walking day, because I wanted to take pictures, and wanted to be at the finish line when the first runner crossed, which would mean at least an hour's wait at 10th and Congress if I took our usual route. So Banks and I took a leisurely stroll, me holding a cup of coffee and taking the opportunity to browse the shop windows. As we got close to the Congress Avenue Bridge, I could see the runners had turned back north and were packing the 1st St. Bridge, so we headed over there and joined the cheering throngs and the incredible gospel group playing right across the street.

Finally we headed to the finish line, where we scoped out a pretty good elevated spot between Congress and Colorado. I thought the winners of these races finished just a few minutes over two hours, but I think today it was closer to the 2:20 mark, so Banks and I had a good long wait of at least 30 minutes. I struck up a conversation with Jill from New Jersey, whose daughter Ashlynn (from New York) was participating in her fifth marathon.

After we cheered on the winner and a few of the also-rans, we headed towards home. I am always learning something new on this journey and today's lesson was this: you are not doing your legs a favor by walking, then stopping, walking some more, then standing in the cold for a long time before resuming walking. I thought I was taking it easy today, but I am more sore than I have been in a long time.

Once again, I took some awesome pictures, but something happened to them, which I think was my trying to add video --  but here's the 4-mile mark, with a few racers trailing the winner, before the throngs caught up, and next to that is Jill.  Jill, I hope you find my blog, and safe travels back to Jersey!  Congrats to Ashlynn for another successful marathon.

   

Solitude Weekend

Okay, one walk in the rain is a novelty; two in a row loses its charm.  Once again, it rained all day.  I kept waiting for it to stop, and it really didn't until about 6:30.  And I came dangerously close to missing my walk.  I could feel myself getting tired (I'd worked around the house all day, as well as done some work work), and I kept trying to find a reason not to go.  I could do 10 miles tomorrow.  I could go a whole week without another day off.  But it's a slipperly slope, and I didn't want to step on it, so we went.  Banks and I did the old north on Congress route, winding through the neighborhoods, finishing up with a couple of blocks around the neighborhood to make it five.

I was supposed to be an empty nester starting last September, but a disastrous roommate arrangement resulted in Jackson, my 19-year-old, moving back into my very small house.  As much as I love having him -- and I really do love his company, and his sense of humor, and his near-constant guitar playing -- there are times when I crave some privacy and silence.  So I proposed to him a "solitude weekend" where he would stay with his father one weekend out of the month.  That's this weekend. The introvert in me is relishing the alone time, the complete disregard for dinner on the table,the clean bathroom and the ability to play classical music all day long. 

And the mother in me is missing the Kurt Cobain riffs and the shaggy head bending down to kiss Banks.

Drizzle

It's been raining pretty much all day.  I had an early meeting, so skipped the walk this morning, hoping I could do it over lunch, but it kept coming down.  Since I have some work I have to do this weekend, I was able to leave at 3:00 and once home, went for it.  There is something wonderful about just giving yourself to the elements -- I put on my hoodie, left all electronics at home and surrendered to the rain.  I kept thinking how lovely it would be to come home soaking wet, put on warm, dry clothes, crank up the heat and settle in.  So that's what I did.  And I brought Banks along, and decided that I'd misjudged him.  He did just fine with the rain.  It wasn't pouring, mind you -- if you were driving, you'd have your wipers on an intermittent setting, but the windshield would be full.  I'll say this about Stacy Park when it's raining -- you'll have the place to yourself.  Usually we do two laps around both Big and Little Stacy, and that, plus the mileage to and from the opening of the park, brings it to five.  But after one lap, repeating seemed boring, so we went through Travis Heights again, just to get in some hill action.

So last night was my second knitting lesson and it was much more enjoyable.  Everyone is working at different levels, and we all encourage each other and make a big fuss over each others' little triumphs. Our instructor, Latifa (the no-nonsense way she introduced herself made it clear that she had heard as many Queen Latifah jokes as one can tolerate in a lifetime, and no one has jumped at the bait yet) seems to know just when to teach, when to encourage us to focus on our work, or when to allow the camaraderie to build through mundane conversations about television or childrearing.  She's the one standing in the photo below; the bottom is a picture of my hat-to-be.  Who knew there was such a thing as round-needle knitting?

Worth It

Some days, you absolutely have to take a little extra trouble to do something right.  This morning, I found that I just could not face another walk around the neighborhood, so Banks and I got in the car and drove down to the lake.  The hell with the added 20 minutes or so, and the dirt Banks tracks into the car. I sound like a broken record, but honestly, I will never take for granted the beauty of that trail first thing in the morning.  Today was cool and the trail was even cooler.  The mist off the water gave the trees a flocked appearance, like Christmas trees.  That, and the mild fog around them made the woods seem ghostly and enchanted. 

About 45 minutes or an hour into it, the sun is rising, foot traffic picks up, the rowers hit the water, with the megaphone guy yelling orders or encouragement (I can never tell which); the ducks start quacking, the boot camp groups start running en masse....it feeds my soul in a way that a workmanlike march up and down South Congress simply cannot.  And many, many times during those walks, I find myself saying, Thank you.  Thank you for this city that I love. And for my healthy children, and my eyesight, and my job, for hot and cold running water, for the Internet, for strong coffee in the morning, and every other wonderful thing that I take for granted most of the time.  It is a beautiful and soul-nourishing way to start the day.

With that taken care of, my lunch hour was free and I was able to run down to Central Presbyterian, the 137-year-old church a few blocks away where my friend Jan was performing her favorite Gilbert and Sullivan pieces for their Thursday free concert series.

And after work, it's back to knitting class.  I keep reminding myself, it's only knitting....no one is going to die. 

Hair Crisis

Yesterday I felt lazy (maybe from all that Valentine’s Day candy people brought in to work) and decided to let Tuesday be my off day. I had an early morning meeting so I couldn’t do my walk with Banks before work today. So, because of dinner plans later in the evening (the County Line with my sister and our sons), I decided I’d better be creative and fit it in during the day.

Back story – my hair is both straightened and colored, and apparently I had those two procedures done without enough time between them (though I did wait the recommended period). After my coloring a few weeks back, I noticed the hair breaking at the crown. I didn’t think much of it, but then more and more started to break off, and I started having nightmares that I had a mullet. Right now I’ve got kind of a Ron Wood/Rod Stewart thing going on. So I called my hairdresser David, and he told me to come in for a look. His place, The Art of Subtraction, is 2.8 miles from my office. With what I planned to eat later on, I was actually glad to walk a total of 5.6 miles. So I worked through lunch, and started over there on foot just after 4:00.

South 1st, which is where David is located, is insane at rush hour, and I hated the closeness of the cars to the sidewalk and, as usual, how fast they were going. But I was on a timeline, and stayed focused. David gave me the good news and the bad news -- yes, there's a lot of breakage, but with good conditioning products (he gave me two) the worst is over.

I rushed back to the office, sponged off and headed out to the County Line. The beauty of exercising close to dinnertime (for me, anyway) is that it decreases your appetite. So even though it was an all you could eat meatfest, I had one rib, a few small pieces of sausage and only two paper-thin slices of brisket.   And I took a great picture, but can't seem to post it.

Epiphany

Today's walk did not flow.  I wasn't into it and Banks seriously got on my nerves. Yes, for the umpteenth time, I KNOW I need to get him better trained on the leash, for both our sake, but where on earth am I going to find the time for a class?

After I got home from work, close to 5:00, Banks and I headed to Stacy Park.  I don't think I've ever done that right after work, and there were a lot of people and their dogs there. Much pulling of the leash, and (this drives me crazy, for some reason) sniffing of the ground.   What is he, a bloodhound?  Plus, Big Stacy kind of flows into Little Stacy, but  not smoothly, and there were lots of places where I couldn't decide whether to stay on a path or walk on the road, and at one point I didn't realize the terrain underneath me was uneven, and I stepped down, hard, with my knee hyperextended.  Waaaah.  And it was too hot for a hoodie, and the pants I was wearing didn't have pockets, so I was carrying my ipod in one hand and juggling Banks in the other, with my plastic poop bag tucked into my wasteband.  Attractive.
It was not fertile ground for an epiphany, but I had one. Not an "aha moment," but a real mindblower. Are you ready?  Here it is:

If I do this -- if I go a whole year walking five miles a day, six days a week, and let my body rest one day a week -- then on January 1, 2013, I will be able to look back on 2012 and say that I did not waste one single day.

Wow.

That's not the same as saying I made the absolute most of every day, or didn't commit some boneheaded action on any one of them.  But even if I have a headache that lasts half a day, or sink into self-pitying slackerdom, or eat five slices of pizza......if I've walked five miles, the day has not been wasted.  And if my tired muscles are resting and recuperating in preparation for the next 30 miles, that day has not been wasted either.

Talk about motivation.  Right now I can look back and say "I did not waste one single day in January."  And even that feels pretty great.

Times Two

I just felt like doing something different yesterday, so I walked ten miles instead of five. 
My Saturday night plans had fallen apart -- a couple that my sister and I hung with in college were supposed to meet us for dinner, but sadly, had to make emergency hospice plans for a family member.  I had planned to go to the trail mid-afternoon, but my son needed my help on a writing assignment, so I didn't get out of the house til almost 5:00. I didn't bring Banks this time, because I was half-toying with the idea of doing ten and knew he probably wasn't up for that.

So I drove to the trail. At almost the four-mile mark, where you cross to the south side of the trail via the 1st Street Bridge (then add another mile on the other side), I took a deep breath and kept going.  This is supposed to be a ten-mile loop,and it was appealing to think of doing it properly, rather than doubling my mileage by simply backtracking at the five-mile mark.  But at that point in the trail, it was startling how quickly the other runners/walkers disappeared and how quickly the sun jhad gone down.  I was tempted to play it safe and turn back at the five mile marker, but gave myself a pep talk: Take a chance.  Do something different.  Trust that you won't get lost. Push yourself. 

But at 4 1/4 miles, I decided to trust my gut, and listened to the arguments against proceeding:  1) this side of the trail seemed seedier and less-traveled; 2) darkness was setting in; 3) I was unfamiliar with this territory, and 4) I didn't have Banks with me.  One plus 2 plus 3 plus 4 = stupid.  So I turned around.

But if I thought that solved me problems, I was wrong.  It was so dark!  Remember, this trail is in the woods, and there are no lights.  At least it was familiar terrain, but it was definitely a little scary.  It was a relief to reach the section parallel to Cesar Chavez where the Saturday night traffic was whizzing by. 

You know what's almost as scary as walking alone in the woods at night?  Wondering if anyone in those cars knew me and thought I had nothing better to do on a Saturday night.

At long last I reached marker 0, and though I wanted nothing more than to jump in my car and go home, do you think I was going to get this close to 10 miles without finishing?  With 1.5 miles to go, I turned around yet again, walked to the 3/4 marker, and backtracked.

Yes, my knees were aching a little, and I was stiffer than after a 5-mile walk, but I felt fine.  And I've earned my happy self a day off. 

The Rain, the Park and Other Things

Got up this morning to the sound of rain splattering against my window.  I had been so excited about my “destination walk” this morning – my favorite kind – and now it wasn’t going to happen.  I was going to meet my sister Lynn for breakfast at Mi Madre's on Manor Road, exactly five miles from my house.  We’ve tentatively rescheduled for tomorrow – no way am I going to let that perfect distance go to waste.  It stopped raining later in the morning, but it was too late for a make-up walk.  So after dinner, off Banks and I went.  On a whim, we went down to Stacy Park, wondering if it might be a suitable nighttime walking place -- it wasn't.  So we wound through the tony Travis Heights area, admiring the amazing architecture and enjoying the short, steep hills.  With still a half hour or so to go, we crossed over to St. Ed's and finished up there.

May I talk about knitting class? It was not as nightmarish as I'd been prepared for.  Just thinking about casting on set my nerves on edge, and when I couldn't get the hang of it right away, I came up with a brilliant plan.  For the rest of my life, before I started any knitting project, I could just have a more talented knitter cast on my first row of stitches, and I could take over from there!  Surely, in the history of knitting, someone has done this.

Then an amazing thing happened.  I got the hang of it!  And suddenly, I was knitting!  For row after row, I was not only working those needles, I was actually able to carry on a conversation. Just as quickly, though, things took a downward turn when our teacher introduced "purling." It's kind of like knitting, but....backwards.  And very confusing.  Everyone had trouble with it, even Marcy, who was kicking butt in there.  I left with my half-finished headband, feeling a little deflated

There was a long and encouraging message on my cell this morning -- Marcy exhorting me to focus on "knitting, knitting, knitting" and second-guessing our teacher for piling on this second skill during the first class.  Yes! I thought to myself. Get the first skill firmly implanted before introducing a second, more complex one.  The good news is, next week we're making hats, and no purling is required -- just straight knitting.

Later in the day Marcy and I processed the class.  We both loved the vibe in there -- a good mix of ages and different personalities, lots of laughter and lively conversation.  And maybe because of the setting -- a group of women practicing an old-fashioned home art -- there was a gentility in the room that is very rare these days.  I'm looking forward to going back.

Casting Off

I decided to take Wednesday off this week, and late that night, regretted it.  I have a very full day today, and was already starting to stress about how to fit it all in -- walk, blog, early morning meeting, noon meeting, 3:00 meeting, and knitting class (more about that).  I figured I'd better get the walk out of the way first thing, so Banks and I drove to the trail at 5:00, found parking and got on the actual trail at about 5:15, and it was waaaay different than the last time we did it on a weekday.  Hardly anyone was out in the first half hour or so -- we'd go 10 minutes, easily, without running into anyone else -- but it was nice to have the wide trail to ourselves, and as always, I felt very safe with Banks at my side.  The picture below is at the beginning of the walk -- I didn't realize how foggy, or hazy, it was that early until I saw the picture. 

So, that's done, the meetings will be fine -- but this knitting class.  What was I thinking?  It was Marcy's idea -- she's already an accomplished knitter, and she's going to knit circles around everyone in our 101 class, but me?  I have never been a quick study at anything, so I asked her to give me a tutorial before class, just so I wouldn't go in completely cold.  OMG.  Have you ever tried "casting on?"  She kept assuring me that I'd get the hang of it, and that once I did, the knitting would be the easy part.  You would have thought I had cerebral palsey, or at least arthritis, to see my trying to get my fingers around those needles and that yarn.  I ALMOST got the hang of casting on, at which point Marcy informed me that there were many ways to do it, and our teacher might very well want us to do it another way. Whaaa?

Then we proceeded to the knitting part.  Not only could my fingers not seem to cooperate, my brain wasn't fully engaged either -- I would look blankly at a row of loops, and not be able to tell which one I was supposed to stick my needle into.  It took me back to first or second grade, when I would lie awake at night, convinced I was the only person in my class who would reach adulthood without learning to 1) tell time and 2) write in cursive. 

Well, it's all about taking chances, right, and there is the slimmest of possibilities that I might love this, actually get good at it, and be able to knit some amazing creations.  One can always hope.

Letting Go

My insomnia runs in cycles, so it's not surprising that it's still dogging me.  Woke up at 1:00, gave up returning to sleep and got out of bed at 2:00, read and cleaned up a little, returning to bed around 3:30.  Up at 6:00, a little late to start my five, but I wasn't going to deny Banks another morning walk.  We headed south this time on Congress, a mistake I won't repeat on a workday morning:  There is about 1/4 mile between traffic lights, and the cars whizz by, which seemed to unnerve Banks; going north on Congress, the traffic is heavy, but there are lights at every block, so it's slow.  It had been so long that we'd gone in that direction that I couldn 't remember any markers beyond the 1-mile (Flaco's).  So we went that far, headed back northbound, and took the Woodward entrance into St. Ed's, where we finished up. The girls' soccer team was practicing and several of them made a big fuss over Banks, which we both enjoyed.

I've been dealing with what feels like a fairly long-simmering relationship issue, and though I didn't focus on it during my walk, it was right there under the surface.  And about three miles in, I decided to let go of my passive-aggressiveness and take the high road.  It was that simple.  I can't control others' behavior, but I can control my response.  They have their weaknesses, I have mine.  How many of my faults do people overlook every day?  How many times does an oversight or a thoughtless word or action on my part cause unintended pain?  I don't even want to think about it.

Yep, it was that simple.  I felt lighter that last mile and a half than I have in a while.  When I got home, there was still 24 minutes on the clock.  I'll make that up over the lunch hour, joining friends who like to walk to the Capitol.  I gotta get to work..

Two Blogs in One

Yesterday was Superbowl Sunday, and I knew I'd be eating more junk than usual, so chose the downhill-uphill South Congress route again to burn the calories more effectively.  It was soooooo cold and a bit rainy, but I wanted to get it out of the way, so left the house at about 8:00.  I left  Banks behind -- he looked pretty unhappy but I know that boy, and he would have been a lot more unhappy had we been caught in a downpour.  Luckily, that didn't happen. 

Since he missed yesterday, I really wanted to take him this morning, but after all the Superbowl excitement, not to mention Downton Abbey's latest developments, I again had a fitful Sunday night sleep and couldn't get it together in the morning.  I took one more chance on the Lady Bird Lake trail over the lunch hour and am pleased to report this outing was much more successful -- .8 miles each way to and from the trail, then half way between the 1.5 and 1.75 mile markers, double back, and I got just over five miles.   Cold enough that I hopefully didn't stink when I got back.

If I have to take a sleeping pill to get a good night's sleep tonight, I'll do it.  No way am I leaving Banks behind three days in a row.

Bad Dog

Well, this was a great way to start the weekend:  leaving the house around 8:00 AM, I noticed an ominous yellow flyer on my doorknob.  Apparently, after piously directing Texas Gas Service to send me only paperless bills, I have systematically ignored their electronic pleas for payment, and today was judgement day.  Yikes. Did an immediate about-face, paid the thing online, and Banks and I proceeded on to Einstein's to get our week's worth of bagels.  Since it was such a cold morning, I figured the bagels and cream cheese would be fine in the car while we did our five. 
I had planned to start the Lady Bird trail at our usual spot -- mile 0, near the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue -- but the bagel place was closer to the 2-mile point, which is a highway-sized footbridge under an overpass.  Just having a different starting point, though we did the same basic loop, added a little freshness to the trip.  Even though it was still early, and I thought the runners would come out after 9:00, they (along with the cyclists and everyone else) were there in large numbers.  Banks and I were having a grand old time, and then.....

Though I usually have Banks on a pretty short (retractable) leash, I had a moment of inattention while I bent over a fountain for a drink of water, and did not notice Banks pulling away as he spotted an elderly man with a Pekingese.  I heard a loud crash -- Banks had overturned a big trash can -- and saw him playfully getting in the other dog's face. 

The old man freaked.  "Get your ffff..." -- he left it at that, but I could see it took an effort for him to control himself.  I said "He's very friendly" -- to which he replied, sarcastically, "I can see that." At which point the leashes became tangled, and I had to  separate them for a long and awkward 20 seconds, while the little dog shrieked, and Banks tried to nuzzle him, looking confused at the chaos he'd wrought. I finally finished and stood up, heart pounding, apologized again, and we took our leave.  And though the 4 1/2 miles up til then had been wonderful, the walk was now ruined for me.

I had to keep reminding myself: before I got a pit bull, I was afraid of them, too. A casual observer (with a lap dog) might not readily see the difference between happy rambunctiousness, and aggression. But I also found myself rehearsing ugly retorts I wished I'd thought of, and thinking dark and ridiculing thoughts about crotchety old men.  The sympathetic smiles from some passersby, and the friendly "It's those little dogs you gotta watch out for" helped a little.

But with enough time to let the dust settle, I know the guy had a point.  Banks does need to be more disciplined on the leash.  I'm going to look into some basic obedience classes, or maybe one that specializes on leash walking.  And while I'm at it, I'll try to work on developing a thicker skin.

Trail walk

My wonderful boss gave me the day off today to make up for the extra travel time I incurred during what I now refer to as the Virginia episode.  I woke up and felt like doing something different, so I piled Banks into the car and off we went to Lady Bird Lake.  It was just before 6:00 when we got there, and the trail was surprisingly dark (duh….).  But there were enough runners out that we encountered someone every 30-45 seconds or so, and it felt perfectly safe. 

I have always loved the camaraderie I’ve felt with other early morning exercisers.  Any time I join a gym, I’m a 5:00 AM-er, and there is this sort of unspoken bond among us, lifting and stair-stepping and sweating while the rest of the world sleeps.  The trail is different, of course – no conversations beyond a quick “good morning,” but there is still a sense of community amid the diversity.  The solitary dog walkers, the running buddies, the dad with infant twins in a jogging stroller, for crying out loud, and, because this is Austin, the guy sitting on a bench playing a harmonica.  About 30 minutes in, the sun started to rise, the birds woke up and started singing, and the trail became a little more populated.  It was a gradual and beautiful transition, and I wished I'd brought my camera.

As we prepared to cross over the 1^st St. bridge at the 4+ mile mark, I had a sudden urge to keep going.  I believe there is a 7-mile loop and a 10-mile loop, but I’m going to have to research that.  What if I went 10 miles one day, and took off two days during the week, just to keep from getting complacent?  In any event, I am looking forward to these early morning workday trail walks.  Next time I'll remember to bring a towel for the passenger seat.

Poundage

I lost six and a half pounds this month.  And I did it while eating whatever I felt like eating.  I'm trying to let that sink in.

Got up, started the coffee, got Banks ready for our walk, all the while warily eying, and avoiding the bathroom scale.  I do NOT step on that thing -- not when it really counts, anyway -- until after elimination and before any food intake.  Really.  You never know what might push it over that half-pound mark, even a gulp of water.  So we did our five, this time on the clock, and I weighed myself on our return.  Heck, even sweating could have an effect.

It's only been a month, and maybe I shouldn't jump to any conclusions.  Maybe there were a couple of extra holiday pounds there that dropped easily.  Maybe the shock of walking 30 miles in a month jolted my body into some kind of adrenaline-fueled state, and now that it's used to this pace, the weight loss will slow down a bit.

I don't care.

I look back on January, and here are some of the meals that jump out at me:  a meatfest at Fogo de Chao; two hearty breakfasts at Curra's and Another Broken Egg; several trips to Chipotle (a real weakness for me); movie popcorn at the Alamo; a huge steak and baked potato at Austin Land and Cattle; lots of morning bagels, my favorite breakfast; and even a trip to Church's Fried Chicken.  Laura, a colleage, keeps a bowlful of bite-sized chocolates on her desk.  I love her but she is pure evil. I cannot resist dipping into that bowl, though I limit myself to two a day.

In between those indulgences, I eat like a semi-normal/healthy person.  I don't eat donuts, or put away a quart of ice cream at a single sitting.  And I do keep an eye on the cholesterol and calorie thing.  MOST of the time.

Walking five miles a day is a lot easier than limiting yourself to 1,200 calories a day.  At least it is for me.  And I just showed my middle-aged self that I can walk 130 miles in a month.

Today is a good day.