It's Always Something

Today it’s my toe, the big one on my right foot.  It hurts.  It’s not a blister, it’s something inside.  I don’t see how I could possibly have bruised or strained it on my totally flat walk around the outlet malls on Sunday, but who knows?  When I first started this back in January, I used to lie awake at night, fantasizing about something catastrophic, like a broken leg, which would put an end to it all, but it’s the little things that keep cropping up and taking jabs at me.

Once again, a short but intense rainstorm last night.  I awoke to the unbelievable feel of cool weather outside, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I grabbed Banks and raced out the door, at 5:15, on a work day.  No way was I going to waste this opportunity.  The storm must have been stronger than I thought – we passed several pretty decent-sized branches that had been ripped off their trees, and Banks had plenty of water puddles to drink from along the way.

I met Brian at Curra’s for breakfast, and I wish I’d brought my camera to show you her sleek, sophisticated new haircut.  She looks fabulous.  And as always, I came away from breakfast better than I was going in – able to look at a stressful work situation with some humor and perspective, getting a laugh out of our mutual foibles, comparing parenting stories, and sharing a bit of harmless gossip.  Thank you, sistah.

Outlet Walking

We had a short but tremendous thunder and lightening storm last night -- I don't even know what time it was, but the thunder was crashing, and it felt like it was shaking the house.  It was so out-of-the-blue that when I woke up I half-wondered if I'd dreamed it, but the welcome cool and damp weather, not to mention the soaking wet Sunday paper, confirmed the storm.  Unfortunately, the cool weather was not to last.  When Lynn and I headed to the outlet malls at San Marcos after church, it was steaming.

Lynn had a brilliant idea for this weekend.  She is a slow -- maddeningly slow -- and methodical shopper, and even her most devoted friends have a hard time hanging with her.  She suggested that I come with her, take my walk while she spent a couple of hours at Saks and Neiman Marcus in search of her mother of the bride dress, and then join her at those stores and give my opinion on the finalists she chose. Perfect plan.  I started out on the sidewalks in front of the stores, but the temptation to window shop, not to mention the congestion from all the pedestrians, made that plan unworkable.  So I stayed on the outer perimeters at the back of the stores, and at the very far reaches of the parking lots -- boring but effective.  But man, was I dehydrated aftewards!  No matter how much water I drank, I had to return to the fountains every 20 minutes or so just to keep hydrated.

Lynn found two fabulous dresses, bought one, and is online-shopping to get the other one in her size. She didn't want to leave the place without a sure thing, but I loved the second one so much that I convinced her to get both of them home and compare them side-by-side.  Lynn has a naturally slim and youthful figure which I can only dream of, and has so many more options than I ever would when making this type of purchase. Well, eight more months of five mile walks, and maybe I'll give her a run for her money.  Watch your back, sistah.  :-)

Road Trip

I love business road trips.  I don’t have to be going anywhere exciting, and God knows I didn’t today.  I always get a small surge of excitement when the alarm wakes me up at 5:00, and I get up in the darkness, fill up the coffee travel mug, climb into my freshly gassed-up car, with my work papers and my driving directions on the passenger seat beside me, and a newly rented e-book in the CD player waiting for me.

Today I went to Christoval, a rural town just outside of San Angelo, a four-hour drive each way.  I love driving, and I love my work.  Never in the eight hours on the road did I wish I was meeting a friend for lunch, or going to a movie, or attending the Pecan Street Festival. 

But nine hours on the road takes a toll on the body.  I was exhausted when I got home, and didn’t dare give in to the temptation to fall into bed.  Instead, I took Banks for a long woods walk.   There are several trails you can take, and we kept going from one to the other, always keeping the brook within safe distance, because it was HOT, and even in the cooler woods, Banks needed frequent breaks.  It felt good to take more of a hike than a walk – the climbing and careful descending, and frequent need to hold your balance, uses a different set of muscles, and I’m feeling a little more sore than usual right now.

Nursery duty calls early in the morning, and then Lynn and I are spending the afternoon at the San Marcos outlet stores, searching for the perfect mother-of-the-bride dress for Lynn.  I’m going to catch 48 Hours Mystery, and then hit the sack.

The Long Haul

Tonight was a killer, no two ways about it.  Ninety-four degrees, and humid.  And this time, even though we waited for the sun to go down, and walked on the trail, there was no relief to be found there.  And it wasn’t just us; everyone was walking slower tonight.  Banks needed to stop frequently for water, and so did I.

What definitely did not help was that today was Cinco de Mayo (well, Cuatro de Mayo, but tomorrow’s Saturday), and no government office lets that one go by without a potluck.  So, a heavy lunch (enchilada casserole, anyone?), a bloated stomach, no will whatsoever to walk five miles….

The days when I eat crap are probably the hardest.  In the old days, I would do what everyone else does – figure I’ve blown it, why bother with the exercise part, I’ll just wait til tomorrow and start then.  Or Monday.  Or the first of the month, if it was anywhere in sight.

But I don’t have the luxury of doing that now, and on these walks, it’s hard to fight the feeling that you’re merely treading water, not really accomplishing anything.  But usually about 2.5 miles in, I remember that I’m in it for the long haul.  That I’ll have good days and bad days, productive days and meh days, but what I need to do is…..just keep showing up. Don’t have to be amazing, don’t have to break any records, just have to pull my tired butt off the couch and show up. And that’s what Banks and I did tonight. 

Stretch

Got a late start tonight, 8:30, and just finished a couple of minutes after 10:00.  Banks was limping tonight, so I took him for exactly 45 minutes around St. Ed’s, brought him back to the house, grabbed a bottle of water and continued on my way.  Sometimes I like to mix up my footwear, and for the last couple of days, I’ve worn my canvas shoes, without socks.  A painful blister is forming on my left foot pad, but for some reason, there are just times when I need to feel a little less encumbered than I do with sweat socks and tightly laced sneakers.

Why the late start?  I hesitate to admit that I took yet another post-work nap, but I did.  Before you start thinking of me as the Narcoleptic Blogger, let me explain.  For the past few weeks, I have been working towards my clinical license, which means a weekly session that I and another student have with a licensed clinician.  We staff cases we’re working on, make assessments and diagnoses, and provide feedback to each other.  I am one month in, with 23 months left to go.

The process is challenging and empowering and humbling.  Mostly humbling.  I went in today with a case I had all figured out; all I needed from my mentor and my peer was validation of my brilliant assessment.  What I got was pushback.  And rightly so.  My old, old habit of judging still sneaks up on me at times, and Bobbi and Tomeka called me out on it. 

It is not easy to present your work to others, place it under a microscope and dissect it.  But it also stretches your mind and enlarges your capacity to understand and to empathize.  And when it’s done right, it leaves you very, very tired.

Fireworks

Banks, I love you, but tonight I just gotta be alone.

Just before work ended, I had two fiery exchanges with two different people.  Before you jump to any conclusions about my emotional stability, bear in mind that “fiery” kind of defines the work that I do – helping (or trying to help) parents come to an agreement regarding custody of their kids.  Stakes are high. Attorneys are involved.   Fireworks, on occasion, go off.

Jackson had taken Banks for short walks today, so I knew he’d be all right skipping the five miles.  When I’ve got a lot on my mind, I find myself impatient with Banks’ shenanigans (marking every tree he passes, lunging at dogs who particularly interest him….what is that, anyway?  We can walk past 12 dogs to whom he pays minimal attention, and then he’ll spot what looks to me like a very ordinary dog, and he goes crazy.  Canine chemistry?).

So I left him at home and went to the trail for a fast-paced, arm-swinging, eyes-straight-ahead-get-outta-my-way kind of walk.  My goal for this five miles was simple:  at the end of it, I wanted not to be seething.  It worked. 

I’m back.  I’m tired.  No energy to pour into stupid things.  Who wants an easy job, anyway?  I’m going to bed.

Four Months In

Another month, another 3.5 pounds. My sister Betsy had cautioned me against my giddy prediction at the outset that walking five miles a day meant I could probably eat whatever I want.  She had trained for a walking marathon and discovered that her body quite readily adjusted to the mileage and she could NOT eat whatever she wanted.

And yet....I AM eating pretty much whatever I want, and I still lost 3 1/2 pounds!  I'm sitting here, typing this, and snickering to myself, and I'm not sure why.  I still feel a little giddy about all this.  I'm at the point where almost everyone is commenting on my weight loss. (And I still find myself asking people to punch my thighs) .  An elderly man I work with came up to me yesterday and asked me, with a sly grin "Have you started modeling?"  I think I'm in love.  For the first time in my adult life, I find myself looking for pants that will show off my skinnier legs -- instead of covering them up.

So tonight's walk (at the trail) was happy and free-floating, and passed in a hurry.  It's strange, but I have discovered that classical music, more than NPR, KGSR or my iphone, puts me in a sort of zone where I'm not paying much attention to the music or my surroundings, but all of a sudden, here we are at five miles.

At Steve's party on Sunday, his next-door neighbor, who has gorgeous skin, told me that she washes it every night with olive oil.  What?? I shrieked.  Just plain olive oil out of the bottle?  She rubs it well into her face, almost giving herself a facial massage, then takes a hot washrag, well wrung out, and wipes it off.  I've done it for three nights in a row, and I LOVE the way my face feels!  Just to make sure she wasn't a complete wacko, I googled "wash your face with olive oil" and came across several testimonials.  Try it! 

That's my beauty tip for the week.  Check you tomorrow.