Five Mile Walk.....in Earth Shoes

Do you remember these things?  I ran across a pair at a consignment shop not long ago, and bought them more out of nostalgia than anything.  They are so freaking comfortable!  And so incredibly dowdy!  But today I just felt like doing the tights-and-earth-shoes thing.

In fact, they felt so great that, worrying a bit about a time crunch tonight, I decided to wear them on my walk.  I took a late "lunch" -- 1:30 -- and walked to the trail.  I didn't keep track of the mile markers, just kept going til I hit 45 minutes, then turned around and came back.  I wore my regular work clothes, and today was just cool enough that I could get away with that.  It got me to thinking, though.  I did this a few times in late winter/early spring, before the heat and humidity made it impossible, and I'm just now remembering that having the noon walk as an option took a great deal of pressure off of me.

Remember a few months ago when I blogged about discovering the perfect breakfast, and how I couldn't wait to fix it every morning?  I must have had that homemade Egg McMuffin for three or four months now, and I mean IN A ROW, eating something else only when I went out for breakfast, or found myself out of a particular ingredient.  Two days ago, it hit me that I'm sick of them.  Really.  I don't want another one, but I have the ingredients for about four more of them, and I'll ride that out.  What should I do next?  It was the perfect breakfast!  Lots of protein, enough food to keep me full for several hours, nutritious.....oatmeal seems so bland, I hate fruit, cereal just doesn't do it for me.  Any suggestions?

muscles

I thought long and hard about taking, and then posting, a particular photo today, but then decided it would be a little weird, even for this blog.

Yesterday just before I started out walking I went to the bathroom, then noticed that my right sock was slipping down beneath the back of my shoe, irritating the top of the heel. I put my right foot up on the bathroom counter to get a better angle, and as there is a mirror that runs the length of the counter, I got a very good view of the side of my right leg. It was quite an eye-opener.  I’ve only really ever noticed my legs from the front, or maybe when I’m walking down the street, I get a hazy sidelong glance at them in a store window. But here my whole long leg was, with the shorts riding up to the top of my thigh, and ….there were some serious muscles there!  I mean, really!

It’s possible these are not the legs that other women aspire to.  “Shapely” would probably not be the right word.  “Athletic” says it better. Along the outside of my thigh there are three distinct sections, look to be about 1.5 or 2 inches each, separated by long muscles.  And in my calf, there are numerous smaller, vertical sections that pop out whenever I move my leg around.  Definitely the legs of an athlete, which I certainly don’t consider myself to be, but – toned, athletic legs!  It’s kind of cool!  And make no mistake, I didn’t get those by walking around a track, I got them by climbing hills. 

So after that realization, you know where I’m about to go – to Stacy Park.  At my request, Jackson took Banks out for a short-ish walk, because I want to walk hard and fast tonight.  The sun is down, it’s perfect hoodie weather, and I am going to tackle those hills.

So rather than a – let’s face it – very weird picture of my legs, which it’s entirely possible you wouldn’t find as fascinating as I do, here instead is a picture of my handsome boy Sam, having breakfast with me at Trudy’s this morning.    

Hip at last, hip at last.....

I finally did it!  Here I sit at one of my favorite coffee places, Fair Bean Coffee on South 1st.  I just finished a delicious salt and rosemary bagel devoid of any nutritional value, am just about to start on my second cup of very strong coffee, COLD outside....life is good.  It was .9 miles here, then of course .9 back, then my plan is to walk with Banks to my car at 11th and IH 35.  That might leave me a mile or so short -- Google Directions seems to be having trouble understanding my destination, insisting it's 15+ miles from my house, when I know it's more like 2.5 -- but I'll clock it on the way back and make up whatever I need to make up.

I'm torn between spending the evening with Brian, Mark and Janette, eating seafood and watching a Halloween themed movie (Janette is very big on themes) and staying in and watching the CNN documentary on Lance tonight at 8:00, "The World According to Lance Armstrong."  Of course they'll run it again, but I continue to be obsessed with this story.  Now they're talking about making him return not only his Tour de France money, but the endorsement money from at least one of his sponsors.  What's next?  Will he be sued by everyone he defamed for calling him a doper?  By every company he ever endorsed for?  Is he going to go bankrupt? Mark thinks he's probably on 24-hour suicide watch, but I tell him that with five kids, no, that is not going to happen.

Everyone keeps saying there is no way to clean up a sport as dirty as cycling, but I think this sad tale could ultimately be what makes that happen.  What if the rules changed to the effect that every cyclist from here on out would have to refund any earings -- prize money and endorsements -- if they test positive, even 2, 3, 5 years after the fact?  I think what has kept the doping going is the knowledge that the dopers are always one step ahead of the testers -- I think Lance had said he was two years ahead of them -- and the lure of money and fame is so tempting that they figure they'll deal with the fallout when and if it comes.  Well, if they know going in that there will be a day of reckoning, and it's going to cost them hugely, that just might be what turns it all around.  I would love to see next summer's race if there were a reasonable chance that at least most of the riders were clean.  Wouldn't it be obvious from their times?

My house needs a severe cleaning, laundry is piling up, I need to make an IKEA run and do my grocery shopping.  See you tomorrow.

That damn key again.....

The cold front finally arrived.  It was the kind of morning I would have loved to have walked, but my schedule had other plans:  I had to be in Christoval, just outside of San Angelo, at 10:00 am; it's an approximately four hour drive, but I left at 5:30 just to be prepared for any mishaps.  This time I rented Diane Keaton's "Then Again" -- it was pretty entertaining, at least when she talked about herself and her movie start life, a little less so when she spent loooong hours discussing her mother and -- especially! -- reading verbatim from the woman's journals.  Diane, we appreciate the fact that you had a loving but complex relationship with your mother, but seriously, don't you think we'd rather hear about Warren Beatty and Al Pacino?

As I parked my rental car back at the Budget lot, my heart sank as I realized that my own car key was missing.  Where was it?  It had to be in my purse!  But it wasn't.  Well then, it had to be loose in the car somewhere.  But it wasn't.  I had rented the car the night before, so it's possible the key was somewhere at home, but I called Jackson and he couldn't find it either.

So, I grabbed my purse and my weighs-a-ton leather binder with all my work in it, and walked the 8 or 9 blocks to South Congress, grabbed a southbound bus, which I shared with, like, 30 insane middle schoolers who all got on together after a few blocks (who WERE they?  Where were they going?  Weren't they a little young to be going somewhere en masse, with no adults?).  That walk, as well as the five minutes or so it took me to get from the bus to my house, took a total of 20 minutes.  So after allowing myself a half hour or so to unwind, I took Banks to Stacy Park, and we had a cold, windy and wonderful 1 hour and 10 minute walk. 

And when we walked into the house, my eyes rested on my work badge, hanging from the giant jack on my bookcase, and there it was -- my key, hidden right behind my photo i.d., which is where I carry it during the work day.  Thank God I don't have to spend the bulk of tomorrow making arrangements for a new key.

I am so excited about tomorrow!  Finally I am going to realize my long-deferred dream of going to a coffee hosue with my laptop.  I'm going to put it in my backpack and find a place (ideally) 2.5 fmiles from the house, and take care of the whole wad early in morning.

Temporal (adj): enduring for a time only; transitory

Tuesday was my day off this week. Last night, I took Banks only about a half mile, because I felt like being alone with my thoughts. 

I was aware of a tinge of melancholia accompanying me on this particular trip. I think it is beginning to sink in, that this journey is drawing to a close.  The changing weather and the shortened days are serving as markers.  Ten months in, just two months to go.

Another way to look at it is as a new adventure. There is no way I have come this far, only to slack off and sink into middle-aged complacency. I'll emerge from this with a new plan.  But it won't be the same.  "Three days at the gym, two days of walking five miles and one day of yoga" just does not have the same sacrificial, ceremonial feeling as "five mile walk with a piebald pit."

And that's okay. What has made this special to me is the fact that it IS temporal and deliberate, and not meant to be forever.  That would make it ordinary.  Nothing more than a habit, albeit a healthy one.

No, things will change, and I am working on embracing that change.  It just takes me a while. And tonight, Banks and I will walk at Town Lake, his favorite venue. And as this thing winds to a close, I'm going to start savoring every sight, sound, encounter and mishap.

Put it out there

My "to do" list grows longer every day.  I cross out one item, add two or three.  I'm losing ground here.  Most pressing has been getting Banks' flea control pills renewed.  The poor thing has been scratching and I plan every day to run to the vet, but it just hasn't happened.  The second most urgent item is my car.  Remember my accident of a few months ago?  I've been wanting/needing to get it aligned, but I can't find ONE DAY when I don't need the thing.  But last night, close to 8:00, I ran to the vet (Lynn, who uses the same vet, advised me that they don't take patients after about 4:00 or 5:00, but they're open and doing paperwork til very late, so I took a chance, and there they were).  I got not just the long-term preventative, but the "instant magic" pill that kills all fleas within 30 minutes.  He looks very happy this morning.

Last night was the last debate, and my neighbor John invited me over for sushi and salmon and wine.  The debate was -- let's be honest -- deadly boring, so about 45 minutes in, we started talking about other things.  I've known John for just over a year, since I moved into this place, and we've always been friendly neighbors, but with a bit of a reserve.  We're the same age, lots of the same interests, look after each other's houses when out of town, but how weird would it be to date your next-door neighbor?  Almost inevitably, you're going to break up, and then there will be those awkward encounters in the driveway.

So we had this fun and open discussion about that, and about the kind of partners we're attracted to, and decided that we both are kind of introverted and need to get out more, so we made a pact to just go out and do things as friends, especially the kinds of things that I'm not comfortable doing without a man, like listenting to live music, and keep an eye out for potential dates for each other. How fun!  I mentioned that, if he were a woman, and my next-door neighbor, of course we'd hang out as friends, so why does it have to be any different just because of the male-female thing?  I'm looking forward to this adventure.

As always, Monday was my day off, so this morning Banks and I did our five at Stacy Park.  "Buy new shoes" is still on my to-do list, so I went off once again in my canvas shoes, and my knees still feel great.  It's ridiculously warm for late October, but rumor has it we're in for a cold and rainy weekend.  I can't wait til "cold" becomes assumed.

Dense

Every so often, before I start blogging, I ask myself "Do I really want to share this?  Do I really want these people to know how unbelievably stupid I can be?"  Since I don't think anyone has any illusions about me at this point, I usually just put it out there.

Since I've got a very full day ahead, including a long report that's due tomorrow, as well as a date tonight (I know.  I'm as shocked as you are), I decided to do my five as soon as I got up. Left the house at 6:00.  Felt like wearing my lightweight canvas shoes rather than my tennies. Felt like leaving Banks at home so I could have my hands free to manipulate my tunes.  It was warm and muggy, even at that hour.  I walked around the neighborhood a while, then took on the Stacy Park hills.  Marveled at the fact that, as much pain as I was in yesterday, this morning my knee felt JUST FINE.  Gave a few minutes of thought to that.  Maybe my feet are more comfortable in these shoes. Oh, wait....didn't I hear something about....isn't there some kind of connection between...okay, I remember.  The last time I bought new shoes, the salesman told me to purchase a new pair every, oh, I don't know, 500 miles?  Three hundred?  Didn't he say something about how you knew when it was time to replace your shoes because your knees would start hurting? 

I've got two pairs of shoes. I keep one pair at the office and one at home, and I've lost track of which is the newer pair.  Is it that simple?  The shoes are worn down in crucial areas, and it's putting pressure on my left knee?  My bones actually are NOT grinding together like metal on metal? 

Okay. I'm going to assume I'm on to something here and pick up a new pair.  How wonderful if I find out that this is a temporary problem with a simple solution. Stay tuned.

Deferred Pleasure

My reluctance to plan any social activities on a Friday is, I think, more an introvert thing than anything else.  After five full days of meetings, socializing, phone calls and presentations, I need serious down time.  Not to mention I'm exhausted, which again is probably about using every ounce of my energy to present myself as an extrovert during the workweek.

Last night I wasn't tired, exactly, but I had an overwhelming urge to clean my house.  And I mean really clean.  I started pulling furniture away from walls, sweeping underneath, wiping down counters and even Windex-ing my framed artwork. It was about 8:30, and I knew I just couldn't switch gears, so you know what that means.  I went to bed three hours later knowing I needed to walk ten today.

No matter what that day's schedule, or even how tired I am, I am a ridiculously early riser.  I stumbled out to the kitchen. Five-oh-five.  Do you know how much I wanted to put on a pot of coffee and sink into the paper?  If it had been a normal five-mile day, that's what I would have done, but I had some work to do today, as well as a play to attend tonight, so I took off.  It was COLD this morning, not cool.  I had no route in mind, but Banks and I took off down South Congress again, and just a few blocks in, I had a plan. We went all the way to the bridge, crossed over, went left on Cesar Chavez, went down the stairs at the 1st Street Bridge, and started the four-mile loop.  The cold weather was the only thing that made me try this with Banks in tow.  He was straining at the end of the leash, and -- I still can't believe this -- even just a few blocks from home, he never once panted, and we never once stopped for water! 

But my knee.  Why is it so hard to remember my brace?  Probably because it doesn't hurt when I start out; that happens a mile or so into it.  Several times we took advantage of a convenient wall and I stretched out my left leg, providing me a few more blocks of relief. 

We left at 5:20 and got home at 8:16.  That was good enough for me and my aching knee, and I downed three Aleves immediately upon our arrival. 

If I had given in to my desires, I would have languished over the paper, probably made a second pot of coffee and obsessed about how to fit in ten.  How wonderful to get the difficult thing done first thing in the morning, and THEN dig into the paper, coffee and Egg McMuffin with a clear conscience and the knowledge that it's all down hill from here.  But today was also a bit of a cautionary tale.  These long walks are getting harder and harder.  I seriously question whether I'll be able to pull off 26.2 miles before December 31.  It started getting hard at about mile 4. I coped by playing a soothing tape in my head that assured me that my fluid, consistent, reasonably paced stride was working out the kinks in my muscles.  That was more helpful than the competing tape, which went something like "Holy crap, there's probably no cartilege left in this knee, which at this point resembles worn-out brake pads, and my bones are grinding together like metal on metal." 

Call me crazy, but there's nothing to be done about it now.  I don't want to know.  I'll make an appointment with a knee specialist and get the requisite x-ray or whatever else they recommend, come January, but until this thing is over.....I don't want to know.

SoCo Cool

Oh, what a fabulous walk tonight!  As soon as we headed out, I realized I’d underdressed – the sun was totally down and the air was chilly, and I only had on shorts and a long-sleeve tee.   As always, just walking generated some heat, so it was fine.  This time, I took a totally spontaneous right turn on my street, then another right onto South Congress, and off we went.   We haven’t done the South Congress thing since the weather turned cool, and it was beautiful. Lots of people out, cool band playing at Guerro’s, a pretty good guitarist at the food trailers, and of course music blaring out of the Continental Club.  Why don’t we do this more often?? Banks was in heaven.  He kept right with me, step by step, and I had a revelation that his flop-downs on the grass at St. Ed’s are probably more about boredom than exhaustion.  We went all the way to the bridge, crossed over and started uphill again, with just enough detours through the residential streets to bring us in at five miles.

I had a sobering thought just before we left.  I had an exhausting day at work, got home late, fixed myself a turkey sandwich, and would have loved nothing more than to just hit the sack early.  What am I going to do when that’s actually an option for me?  It scares me a little.  I reassure myself with the reminder that I can keep fit by working out in some capacity four or five days a week, but four or five is not the same as six, and what if I just get out of the habit?  I can’t let that happen.  I WON’T!  I will not give up these legs! 

Lance

Lance Armstrong, of course. My boss Mark and I are obsessed with this story.  We pored over the damning 200 page report, and  constantly email each other the latest articles.  We’ve talked for years about our belief that of course he doped, and we’ve watched, fascinated, as that wall of denial crumbled, and last week, collapsed.

I cannot imagine losing your reputation in such spectacular fashion.  How long can he keep up his haughty, “I will not participate in this witch hunt” condescension? Mark is betting that he’ll eventually come clean, write the apology book and try to rebuild.  I don’t think so.  I think the hole he dug is too deep.  My guess is that he’ll withdraw from public life, protected by the considerable wealth that he amassed as a result of our willingness to look the other way, and our need to believe in heroes.

Worse than the cheating – far worse – was the bullying.  Apparently Lance didn’t just provide the drugs for his teammates, he forced them on them, shamed them into getting with the program and threatened to fire them if they didn’t “get serious.”  And when someone dared speak out, he went after them, tried to shut down their livelihoods, ruin them.  Ugh.

You’ve heard me mention his ex-wife Kristin a few times here as one of my favorite bloggers.  Now it’s hard to read her.  I had this naïve sense that there was some sort of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy among the riders and their wives, but apparently the wives were in it just as deep, and that included Kristin.  I’m trying to imagine what the conversations with her kids have been like.  How do you explain that BOTH mom and dad lied and cheated their way to the success that is now providing such a wonderful life for them?  And that this didn’t represent a momentary lapse in judgment – like, for instance, leaving the scene of an accident in a panic – but a deliberate, premeditated, years-long decision to put success, power and money above all else?

This was what was on my mind during my walk with Banks tonight.  That, and the distant bell reminding me that karma is a bitch, and that every time – EVERY TIME – I take a little too much pleasure in someone else’s downfall, a major humbling is right around the corner.  So I’ll try to stop judging, and start working on a little compassion.  And reminding myself to just keep doing the right thing, no matter how small, for the right reasons.  

Done with the Cowboys

I mean it this time. How many times can you get your hopes up, and then smashed?  I refused to watch the game yesterday.  Sometime close to 3:00, I think, I tuned in just to see what the score was.  Cowboys were down by two, 30 seconds or so left, and they were about to receive the kick-off.  Pffft.  You think I was going to fall for that one?  I turned the TV off, and didn’t even bother until later that night to hear the final score.  Yes.  They lost.  It’s so much more fun to watch a game when you like the team, or at least the quarterback, and have no life-or-death investment in the thing.  That’s what I’m doing right now, watching Peyton Manning going up against San Diego.

I usually take off Monday, but I was starving after work, and brought home Chipotle for Jackson and me.  Those things are delicious but have a horrifying number of calories, and you cannot let them fester.  Banks and I left early enough (6:45) that there was still sufficient light to cut through the woods, and then we stuck to St. Ed’s the whole rest of the time.  It’s pretty consistently well-lit, which Banks appreciates; I usually just cut through there or take a couple of the more obvious roads, but when you devote almost a whole hour to the campus, you realize that there are a lot of areas still unexplored.

Yesterday?  Once again, I am having a hard time recreating that walk.  Incredible!  I know it was around 6:00, because I made a conscious decision to forego “60 Minutes” in the interest of having sufficient time to wash and actually spend some time on my hair.  As I sit here, I cannot say with complete certainty whether Banks came with me the whole time.  Good God.  I guess at this point in the journey, I can’t piggyback two walks into one blog.  All data is erased from the hard drive within 24 hours.

But here was the highlight of the day yesterday:  I worked the nursery again.  What with the OU game and ACL, they were facing an alarming caregiver-to-infant ratio, so they called a few of us from the summer.  Though I pulled myself out of bed and went in at the last minute – and not exactly with the most enthusiastic attitude – the minute I walked in, I melted.  Most of my former charges had graduated to the crawlers, but two little boys were still there, and I swear they remembered me.  There are few things more satisfying than holding a “snuggler.” 

Two random observations:  the name “Harper” is burgeoning in popularity and threatens to become this decade’s “Ashley.”   And do you realize how rare thumb-sucking has become?  I guess that’s because of the proliferation of high-tech pacifiers, but one of the babies yesterday was a thumb-sucker, and we all remarked on the fact that you just never see that anymore.

Tennis Ball Therapy

Last night I was so tired I didn’t have the energy to post anything.  It’s been a stressful week at work – Wednesday night, in anticipation of a horrifyingly contentious meeting on Thursday morning, I slept a grand total of one hour.  ONE HOUR.  And I suppose Saturday was really my first chance to catch up.  So yesterday, after doing the grocery shopping and various chores, I had an incredible three-hour nap, from noon to 3:00.  Then Lynn and I met at the Regal Westgate for a movie – Argo, by Ben Affleck. Highly recommend it.  One of the reviews I read advised that, if you don’t remember this story – about six stragglers who escaped from the U.S. embassy during the hostage crisis and found shelter with the Canadian ambassador and his wife – don’t Google or Wikepedia it, and just let yourself get caught up in the tension. It was good advice, but I’ve been doing research on it ever since, and it’s a fascinating story.

Banks and I did our five at about 7:30.  It was still hot and muggy, and he wasn’t too cooperative, but he hung with me.  The real issue was my back.  I did something really stupid the other day – I took some light weights from my office to my car, and trying to save myself a trip, I picked up all four of them and held them at an awkward angle while making my way to the car.  Of course I pulled something in my lower back, and deep in my right hip is some kind of pinched nerve.  So when Banks and I started out, I was walking gingerly, but as always, once I found my stride and kept it steady, the pain worked itself out. 

It’s when you’re NOT moving that the pain comes back.  Not horrible, debilitating pain, but a dull and nagging one.  At times like that, you’d give anything for a deep-tissue massage, but since that’s not always readily available, I have found an excellent substitute.  Forgive me if I’ve already shared this with you, but it’s worth repeating.  Get a tennis ball, and lie on it.  If it’s a pinched nerve, it hurts like hell when you start, but steel yourself to just let your body sink into/onto the ball while it’s squarely on the nerve.  Or if it’s a tight section of your back and shoulders, roll around on it a little bit. 

If you’re lucky, you’ve got a dog like Banks who loves to chew on tennis balls, and with a hole in the ball, it remains firm while still having a little give in it.  If you’ve got a fully inflated ball, you might want to wrap it in a thick athletic sock to take a bit of the edge off.

In any event, it WORKS.  I can’t remember where I learned this from, but I’ve done it for years.  You will get up off the ground in better shape than when you laid down, I promise.

Metrinomics

Are you old enough to remember learning the metric system?  Not the way I think they teach it now, but the way it was introduced to us then:  "Every civilized nation in the world employs this system of weights and measurements, and we will be converted in the next five years."  I can still remember the knot in my stomach as Mrs. Bischeglia pulled out the math text and began converting inches to centimeters.  And yards to meters.  It seemed so pointless.  What on earth was wrong with the way we were doing it now?

And then it seemed to peter out.  The next resurgence, if memory serves, took place in 7th or 8th grade, but this time with mounting urgency.  "This time, we MEAN it. The entire world uses the metric system, and we have GOT to get on board."  They gave up.  We couldn't learn it.  Which I find hilarious.  Some of my more enlightened friends shake their heads and express contempt for our provincialism and our U.S.-centric ways that set us apart from, literally, the rest of the world, but I find it endearing and quirky -- and possibly defiant, but in the good sense of the word.  What brought that to mind was the departure of my young friend Matt, who is leaving us to become an economist.  I asked him if they're still teaching the metric system in school, and it appears they are, but in the same way that you teach trigonometry or calculus -- it broadens the mind, but you're never going to need it.

So this afternoon, another hot and sticky one, I finally found my way back to the gym.  I'm meeting Marcy for dinner at a deli a little further north, and what with ACL in town, I didn't want to claw  my way through downtown/south of the river traffic, so I walked to the gym at 4:30. As you recall, that's a .8 round tripper, so I do 4.2 miles on the treadmill.  I always start out gradually and start ratcheting it up to 4.2 within a minute or so.  After about 10-12 minutes, that left knee started up again.  Just a twinge at first, but then it started spreading upwards. I slowed down to 4.0 and it didn't help.  Then 3.9.  Then 3.8.  I finally found a little relief there, and without using the incline, or doing any running, I was able to do the whole thing.  AND, with no tv and no headphones.  After so long away from it, the treadmill seemed new again.

When I get home, I'll take Banks on a 15-minute walk to make up for the time I missed last night, or was it the night before?  It's all becoming one, long blur....

23

The warm weather is back, so I gave Banks a short walk today -- maybe 20 minutes -- and did the rest myself.  He and I did a neighborhood loop, I dropped him off so I could ascend a couple of hills, and then it started raining.  I had to cut about 15 minutes off my walk, because I had my phone with me (FASCINATING discussion on Fresh Air about end-of-life decisions), but I'll make that up easily enough in the next couple of days.

There was an extra spring in my step because, for the first time in I don't know how long, I weighed myself.  Remember how long it's taken me to break the 20-pound barrier?  No matter what, I stayed stuck at 17-18?  Well, today I went upstairs to the clinic, and that monkey is off my back.  

For the last couple of weeks, when I've caught glimpses of myself in a store window, I definitely noticed a smaller sillhouette.  On the other hand, it's been a while since anyone at work has said anything about my weight loss, so I didn't know if that was just wishful thinking on my part.  So I took a deep breath, got on the scale, and there it was.  Twenty-three pounds less.  The lowest I've been since the very, very early 80s.

So.....there's about 10 weeks left, and if my calculations are correct, I'm now losing about 3 1/2  pounds a month.  That would bring me to at least 30 pounds.  Thirty or 35. That's exactly what my goal was when I started this. Not worrying about what I ate, just walking five miles a day, and let's see what happens. 

There's a whole lot here about self-image, but that's another blog.  Right now I'm just congratulating myself on finally having the guts to face the scale.

Warming Up

After my usual Monday off, Banks and I headed out with no real plan tonight.  But after just a few blocks, I felt like we needed to push ourselves, so we walked to our frequent starting destination of St. Edward's Drive, took it all the way to I-35, and headed north on the access road, up quite a long and steep hill, to the next light.  Banks hates that route -- the 18-wheelers roaring down the freeway unnerve him -- but we walked it quickly, then turned at that red light, the southernmost border of St. Ed's. Rather than turn into St. Ed's we veered left and wove in and out of those neighborhoods -- some of them a little on the seedy side, especially after dark, but who worries with Banks at my side?  We dead-ended into South Congress -- another busy street Banks hates -- turned right, finally, into campus, and finished up around the soccer field.  It felt like we worked for our five tonight, especially since the weather, cold and wonderful just two days ago, is warming up again, and we're supposed to be back in the high 80s by the end of the week. 

Ryan Gosling was spotted about 10 blocks from my house, at Joe's Coffee on South Congress!  Some papparazzi published about 10 pictures of him there, but the link seems to be broken and I can't copy it here, so you'll just have to take my word for it. 

I'm hot and sweaty and just want to take a shower and delve back into my book, our next book club selection -- Gone Girl.  It started out a little slow, but I'm about halfway through and it's really picking up steam.

Hipsterism Delayed

I really meant to do the "laptop at a coffeeshop" thing this morning, but real life intervened.  My friend Jane, who went to graduate school with my ex-husband, and whom I've been in touch with ever since, was in town for their grad school reunion, and she and Marcy and I met for coffee at Mozart's.  Oh, this is a great story of how we all met!  Marcy spent her first year of college at a school in New York, and Jane was one of her roommates.  They both dropped out and went in different directions after their freshman year and lost touch.  Meanwhile, Marcy came to UT, and she and I lived in the same apartment complex and became friends.  A few years later, Jane applied to grad school at UT, and Marcy happened to be doing work-study in the graduate program, processed Jane's application, and wrote back to her - "Are you the same Jane that I roomed with in New York?"  It was!  After Jane and I became friends, we realized we had a common friend in Marcy.  It was all, clearly, meant to be.

But anyway, we were all on a tight schedule yesterday, and didn't have sufficient time to catch up, so Jane and I arranged to meet at the Magnolia Cafe for breakfast, thereby scorching my plan to do an early walk and blog about it.  Here was the best thing about that breakfast -- we ran into another of Jane's classmates who was in from out of town for the reunion, and I hadn't seen him since my wedding. I am unabashedly gleeful about the fact that I actually took the time to look my best this morning, was wearing my most flattering pair of jeans, and am banking on this guy spreading the word that his friend's ex-wife was looking rather fabulous, and that the word might finds its way back to yet another of their classmates, who broke my heart before I started dating my ex. One can only hope.

It was SO cold this morning, deliciously, invigoratingly cold.  After breakfast, Banks and I walked to my office, where I remain, tapping out this post before we walk home again, and he remains at my side, out of his mind with boredom.  It is amazing how fast you walk when it's cold, and when it's all downhill; now we get to the real work, the 2.5 mile uphill climb.  I'm up for it.  How about you, Banksy? 

Hipster

I texted Jackson yesterday and told him to take Banks on a long walk, because I felt like taking a fast walk, and just didn't want the encumbrance.  (Banks, I don't usually think of you as an encumbrance, it was just one of those days.) I wanted fast and I wanted hills, so I took a couple of Aleve and took off for my usual route.  Banks was crestfallen, but I promised him a treat for this morning and I didn't let him down. 

First we stopped by Einstein's to buy a week or so supply of bagels.  It was about 7:45, and the place was already full of people with their laptops, their papers, their coffee.  It hit me all of a sudden.  I COULD BE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!  I WANT to be one of those people!  I'm going to do it tomorrow!  Instead of just getting up on Sunday morning and enjoing the solitary coffee-bagel-paper, I'm going to do my walk early, go to Fair Bean Coffee near my house, bring my laptop, and blog about it!  I'll bring my paper too.  And I'll see what it's like to be a true SoCo hipster.

So after that, we parked at the big bridge at Zilker Park and did our five miles around the lake.  I was wondering why the parking lot was so crowded and there were so many tents set up, but them I remembered it was Austin City Limits weekend.  Of course.  How nonhipster of me not to know that.  I kept my eyes peeled throughout the walk, not hoping for any musician sightings, especially, but because Ryan Gosling is in town, shooting a movie, and he always takes part in the Austin scene when he's around.  Aimee texted me a couple of days ago that a friend of hers had spotted him at Whole Foods.  I texted back Gaaaggghhhh!  I'm 20 years older than Aimee, but we share a passion for Ryan and his incredible, classical-but-with-an-edge looks.  Well, I didn't see Ryan, but I passed Aimee and her daschund Fritz running on the trail.  She'd seen some papparazzi on the other side of the bridge, and we shared a quick, feverish exchange about the possibility of a Ryan sighting before going our separate ways.

I just remembered that I never did give a review of the Hillside Farmacy.  I liked it -- the food was definitely fresh and creative, but the menu was quite severely limited. They also had a bakery counter, and I saw some delicious-looking bagels.  I'm glad I didn't order a dozen before asking the price, because it was $3.25 per bagel.  That's just plain, not toasted, no cream cheese!  Are you kidding me?  I've never spent $40 on a dozen bagels, and I'm not going to start now.

Quick mullet update -- the front part is ALMOST long enough now for me to pull it behind my ears, a major, major milestone. 

Dark

What happened to the light last night?  I got home from Houston around 3:00, returned my rental car, had another meeting in north Austin at 4:00, and started the long trek home via I-35 at 4:50.  One hour and 45 minutes later, I arrived home.  There had to be an accident on 35 that I couldn't see.  I finally crept onto the access road, which of course was also filled with commuters, gripping their steering wheels in a silent, white-knuckle rage.  I entertained myself with fantasies of side-swiping the car idling next to me, just to make something happen.  Here's how bad it was:  I was able to check and respond to my work and personal email, send a few texts, and complete the first chapter of "Gone Girl."  Seriously. 

Banks and I left the house at exactly 7:15.  Not more than 20 minutes later, it was pitch black!  What was that about?  Banks, who doesn't appear to see very well at night, kept turning around and looking at me plaintively. And the Stacy Park neighborhood is not very well lit. But we did our five miles, this time with two and a HALF hills.

The truth is, I love and welcome the darkness.  I am one of the few people who looks forward to Daylight Savings Time, and the attending cold that comes with it.  I'm not sure what that's about.  The love of cold weather could be related to my Pittsburgh roots, but what about the darkness?  The very thing that bring gloom and even depression to most people -- coming out of work at 5:00 pm, bundled up, driving home with the lights on, and settling in for the night -- brings out my perky, optimistic side.  Conversely, the advent of spring -- warmer weather and longer days -- has always set off a mild depression.

For the longest time, I felt that this reflected a deficit in my character.  I mean, springtime and summer are about renewal, rebirth, long lazy days outdoors. What's to dislike about any of that?
But just as I've finally accepted the fact that I will never be comfortable on a dance floor, and will never learn to speak Spanish fluently, I've given up -- gratefully -- trying to change my nature.  Cold and dark speaks to me in a way that warmth and sunlight do not. You should see the artwork I'm drawn to.  One of my favorites is of a young girl on a farm, feeding the animals on what is obviously an overcast and frigid morning.  I love snowscapes. I love the ocean, but if I ever find a picture of it that I want to hang, it will depict a wild and wintry sea in the grip of a night storm. And get this -- I just noticed that my computer wallpaper depicts a desolate little cottage at twilight, with a footbridge over a small stream, and damned if the whole scene doesn't look cold and blustery.

Well, God made all of it -- winter, spring, dark, light. Maybe I'm not a freak. Maybe I'm just....special.  :-)

Over the Hill

Aimee came into my office this morning and told me that yesterday, after feeling cooped up in her condo, with a crabby husband suffering from back spasms, she just had to go out and WALK.  She brought along a mileage app to track her progress, and ended up walking 6.2 miles, including one of the steepest, longest hills in Austin. She wondered if the bottoms of my feet ever got sore (no) or the backs of my thighs (yes) during those kinds of walks, and whether the pain lasted through the next day (rarely).

But it got me to thinking of how much I miss my hills.  My dang left knee has been dogging me again, and as much as I love my newfound, exactly five-mile route....I miss those hills.  I'm getting that old feeling that I got a few months back.  That "things are getting soft" feeling.  It's amazing, really.  Before I ever started this thing, it would have been an absolutely stellar day for me to walk five miles, an hour and a half; the endorphins probably would have been zinging through me for 48 hours.  Now, walking five miles on a flat surface is just treading water.

So, knee pain be damned, I strapped on the brace, grabbed Banks, took a few Aleves and headed for the hills.  I didn't want to overdo it, but I chose two of the steeper hills near Stacy Park, walked up them carefully, and didn't seem to do any damage.  And yes, just that much extra exertion made a difference.  I felt the old sense of accomplishment and purpose that only comes from enduring some amount of discomfort and working through it. 

I don't think I need to remark any more on whether Banks goes the distance or not.  It's fall now, and he WILL be going the distance from now on.

It's a good thing I scaled a couple of hills today, because I had way too much pizza and a couple of glasses of wine for dinner. Lynn and my neighbor John came over to watch the debate; John and I joked that getting drunk would be the only way to watch it, but no one did that. Besides, I've got an early morning trip to Houston tomorrow and need to get my game on.  I've got the rental car in the driveway, a CD book waiting for me on the front seat, and my coffee travel mug on the counter.  I'm in heaven.

I Got Some Catching Up to Do

 

I was shocked to re-read my old posts and realize that I’m a week overdue in talking about my Omaha trip – that is, beyond the ill-fated half-marathon v marathon fiasco.  As much as I love my cousin Susan, and her husband Gary, and their three adult sons, Ricky, Kevin and Travis…..OMG….Tucker.  Tucker is the white cockatoo that seems to have made his way into every picture. Jenny, the blue and orange parrot, is more striking, and also very sweet in her own way, but just does not have Tucker’s killer personality.

When we first met him, Tucker talked loudly and nonstop, showing off every trick in his bag.  It was as if he didn’t know us well, and found the silence awkward, so just kept jabbering to fill the void.  Then, as he got to know us better, he’d talk in this very low intimate voice.  “Hello….Tucker’s a good boy….I love you….”  He’d tuck his head low and let us kiss his head. Lynn and I were both in heaven.  Tucker also happens to live with four smokers, and does a hilarious impression of a regular cough, and then a gut-busting-can’t-get-my-breath kind of cough.  And since he also lives with four big dogs, he’s perfected a canine bark.  He’s potty-trained and spends virtually none of his daytime hours in his cage.  He’s either perched atop it, or finds his way down the cage, down the table, strutting across the floor (imperiously expecting the four dogs, including a German Shepard, a Weimaraner and a Lab)  to part like the Red Sea) and then climbs up the couch and starts harassing anyone sitting there.  My favorite trick of all?  He hates being put in his cage at bedtime, and whenever that happens he starts shrieking “Ricky!” imploring the youngest son, and his favorite household member, to save him.

I mentioned that we spent the first night at Susan and Gary's campsite.  Here is is, on the Missouri River.  It was so beautiful.  We built a roaring fire, and I had the best night's sleep I've had in a long time.



In include the photo on the left for one reason.  It was at about the 11.5 mile mark, and though it's hard to tell from this picture, the person ahead of me was about 1/4 mile ahead of me, and there two other walkers about 100 yards back.  I don't know where everyone else was at that point, but do you see what I mean about the impossibility of me trying to walk the rest of the way pretty much by myself? 

 And here are our hosts, our beloved cousin Susan and her long-distance trucker husband Gary.

Well, so much for Nebraska.  After taking my usual Monday off, Banks and I took our new favorite route again tonight -- a perfect 1.5 hours -- head towards St. Ed's but stay off campus, left on East Side, take that all the way through both Staceys, loop back around, take East Side back to my neighborhood, but instead of heading right and going home, head left on Long Bow and go through the woods, come back out on St. Ed's Drive and home from there.  It's cool enough now that Banks can hang with me the whole time; tonight NOT ONCE did he do the drop and roll on someone's lawn.  A major cold front from Canada is supposed to be coming in on Friday, and we are back in business.