Blue Santa

It was still warm when I wrote on Saturday.  On Sunday, the day the front was supposed to move in, I kept waiting and waiting til it got cold (it was supposed to happen sometime late afternoon), and finally around 8:00PM gave up and started out.  It was JUST starting to get a little windy out there, and my neighbor John cautioned me that he's seen a few bolts of lightening.  I like to live dangerously, and I cheerfully waved him off.  But I did take the precaution of tying a sweatshirt around my waste, just in case, and boy did it come in handy!  The front was in full force about 45 minutes in, and it was glorious.  The wind really picked up as Banks and I went north on Congress, down the loooong hill, past all the outdoor restaurants and clubs (Banks tried to crash the Continental Club, and the bouncer said "Sorry, Petie, it's a $15 cover charge").  The trip back uphill was exhilarating.  Those of you in the north or the east just cannot understand how wonderful it is to finally get Christmas weather after eight months of 80 degrees. 

So Monday was my day off, and then this morning -- whoa!  A scarf-wearing, face-chapping, nose-running gallop around Stacy Park.  Banks absolutely goes crazy in weather like this.  It brings out the puppy in him, and is such a far cry from the indifferent, lethargic summer companion who really starts to show his age around mid-June.

I've been holding off posting today because I was holding out for a picture that Cindy snapped of our GNO group last night at Chuy's, which she hasn't been able to forward to me yet because she's having problems with her new phone (tell me about it -- mine is so antiquated I can't even figure out how to retrieve my voice messages), so I'll get it to you later.  But about four years ago, we started the best Christmas tradition.  We decided that, as all of us are adults with decent jobs, and do not really need another bracelet, or gift card, or book for Christmas, we would draw names, and each buy what we thought that particular woman's childhood self would have wanted for Christmas.  We wrap our presents, take them to Chuey's, present them to each other, and then place them in the Blue Santa gift bin.  It is SO much more fun that the usual, sedate gift exchange.  Whoever gets Brian's name always goes for the tomboy toys (like a tool set or a fire engine), Janette's gifts reflect her show biz/drama queen future, Cindy's are the traditional girly things like dolls and child-sized kitchens, and I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what to do with me.  But it's a blast and it gets more elaborate every year.  Janette is going to do a short write-up and hope to get it published in Guideposts magazine next year.

Try it!

Real grief. Genuine loss.

Sometimes you write something, and end up feeling like an idiot.  Today is one of those days.  I look back at my whiny obsessive posts about my lost iphone, where I actually use the word "grief." 

A good friend's son was killed while surfing off the coast of Australia yesterday.  One minute you're obsessing over whether you've bought enough for Christmas, or whether to get a new car or pour more money into the old one, and the next you're staring mutely at your computer screen, reading words like "talking with the U.S. consulate" and "trying to figure out burial arrangements."  This will knock you off your self-pity pedestal and bring your world into crystal-clear focus, I assure you.

Yesterday I had a quick turnaround trip to Houston.  I got the news upon my return.  The last thing I wanted to do was go for a walk, but a few hours later, that's all I wanted to do.  There was no way I was going to get any sleep if I didn't.  I was tired of crying in my house, and felt like crying outside, in the dark. It was still warm, and I wore shorts, and I didn't even have the energy to put on socks under my walking shoes. But as Banks and I circled the neighborhood, I found myself picking up speed.  When we returned, it had been an hour and 15 minutes, but I was confident it'd been five.  I had walked as fast as I ever had, faster than I usually do even without Banks, and when I walk at that pace, it's a 15 minute mile.

Today a cold front is scheduled to come in sometime in the afternoon -- temperatures are supposed to drop 40 degrees within just a few hours. Welcome to our world.  I am holding out for that weather, for a hoodie-and-scarf walk later this evening.

Love you Vicky.  Godspeed, Ian.

Disconnect

The weeks-long absence of my car left me feeling disconnected from my blog in a way that I hated.  My walks had become frantic darts between poimts of transfer -- in street shoes -- with no time to ruminate or spend much time with Banks.  And now, of course, I've lost my phone, and all the tunes I had on it.  But I really wanted last night to count, so I dug out my old radio headset and took that along.  I'd forgotten how pleasant it was to be accompanied by blaring classical music.  I took Banks with me, but Jackson had taken him for a long walk earlier, and he started his let's-roll-in-the-grass routine early on.  I took him home after 25 minutes, and headed grimly for the Stacy Park hills.  Up and down, up and down, until my knees ached (worse than usual) but I didn't care.  It is still warm enough in Austin, Texas, to work up a sweat during a night walk, in shorts, on December 7.

No more word from my phone kidnappers. I went to the AT&T store and bought a cheap Go Phone to see me through the next week or so while I decide whether to buy a 5.  Replacing my beloved phone after two days would feel like buying a new dog after the last one's barely cold.  I need time to think.  Mostly I need time to think about how to avoid losing the next one.

Grief and Loss

I lost my iphone today.  Or more specifically, I lost it last night, somewhere between the Starbucks on Exposition, and the HEB on Oltorf.  I've called both places, turned my car and my house upside down, had people call my phone while I did both things -- it's gone.  All day I've had this sick feeling, which I just recently realized was grief.  I've had that thing --

That dash was exactly how far I got when Aimee called on Jackson's phone.  She had texted my phone saying "Please call this number if you find this phone," and I asked her to call me via Jackson's phone if anyone contacted her.  Someone just did -- from a blocked number -- and asked her how much money she would be wiling to pay to get her phone back.  CAN YOU BELIEVE IT???  They said they found it at HEB. Thinking quick, she said $50, which is exactly what I would have said.  But how in the world would such a thing be arranged?  My guess is they'll figure that out and I'll never hear from them again.

It is ridiculous, the kind of pain I'm feeling at the thought of my beloved iphone in the hands of such a lowlife.

It was so hard walking tonight without it.  No way to monitor the time, no tunes, no podcasts.  Banks and I walked all the way to 35, then back through St. Ed's, thinking at least I could use the tower clock to gauge my time, but I never heard it go off.  As we walked, I composed some thoughts in my head, trying to be philosophical about my loss.  Maybe I could blog about how freeing it felt to be unwired for a change!  Or how "in the moment" you have to be when there's no way to reach out to anyone else.  But I couldn't do it.  Well, I could have, but it would have been just so much b.s.  I love my phone.  I miss my phone.

It's going to be hard to sleep tonight.

Blistering

I took off yesterday mostly just to give my blistery feet a rest.  When I woke up this morning, they still hurt, so I took a novel approach to my walk:  I wore my Earth Shoes.  I think I did that once before, not intentionally, but just because I'd worn them to work, they were comfortable, and I decided on a whim to go for a walk over the lunch hour.  This time I put more thought into it.  The shoes are made in such a way that they sort of distribute your weight; there's support built into the arch, so you're putting less pressure directly onto the balls of your feet.  That's exactly what I was looking for, because the balls of my feet are exactly where my big, watery blisters still reside. Over the lunch hour I walked around the downtown area, trying to fit some hills in, for the whole hour and a half, knowing that I wasn't leaving work today until 6:00.  It was a good move.  My feet feel fine.

I think tomorrow I'll be ready to get back to my walking shoes, hopefully in the morning.

Remember a few weeks ago, when I emailed Pam LeBlac from the Austin-American Statesman with a submission for her "Fit Folks" column?  And I was upset because she wouldn't run it immediately?  This past Sunday I had some serious anxiety about that decision.  The whole purpose was to publicize my blog, but the more I got to thinking about it, the more that prospect seemed worrisome.  As it is, only my first name is on the blog.  If it were linked to a piece on me with my full name, anyone I ever met who googled me would find out all kinds of things about me.  Especially I got nervous at the prospect of some of the people I encounter in my work, who see me as an adversary.  Mark reminds me of how easy it would be to take something that I wrote, twist it into something it isn't, and use it against me.

So on Sunday I emailed Pam that I'd changed my mind.  She wasn't happy about it, said it was scheduled to run the following Monday, and that now she'd have to "scramble" to undo it.  Crap.  I wavered for a little while, and then decided I had to trust my instincts.  Don't get me wrong. I still want to publicize this thing and try to figure out how to market it, but this just didn't seem like the right venue.  The quest continues.

Bus Stop

Three days -- that's the longest I've ever gone without posting anything.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I made the decision to stop borrowing people's cars or bumming rides from them, and instead to use Jackson's bus pass while I waited for Steve, my lovable, disorganized hermit/mechanic, to fix my car.  (Something about struts leaking. Took him 12 days.  At least I got to spend five of them in New Orleans).

Who needs to plan a five-mile walk when you don't have a car?  I know I've put in that, and more, every day for the last three days, all of them in regular shoes.  Sunday was a particular nightmare of transfers, miles-long walks in a residential neighborhood and to the next stop.  I got two huge blisters (at least they were water, not blood blisters) on the pads of my feet.  Yesterday I had one meeting far south, all the way to Slaughter, walked a half mile to what I thought was my destination, could not find the office I was supposed to be at, my phone was dying and I wandered for a half hour throughout a busy commercial district.  Then back to the bus stop, take another two trips with sizeable walks between transfers to get to the Chase bank building at Capital Plaze for yet another meeting., which lasted SEVEN HOURS!  The highlight of the meeting was getting a cheerful text from Steve announcing that my car was ready.  This meeting was supposed to be over by 5:30.  Lynn had graciously planned to pick me up and take me to Bastrop.  She waited in the parking lot for three hours.  I owe her.

What did I learn from all this?  Several things.  Life without a car is tough. There is nothing more undignified than running for a bus. You can overhear some hilarious conversations.  The concept of men offering their seats to woman on a packed bus has disapppeared.

But you know what?  It was also very cool, in a way.  If I didn't have a job that required a car, I would seriously ride the bus to work, at least some of the time.  I liked how un-sedentary I felt, I liked knowing I wasn't contributing to the crap in the air, I liked the camaraderie I felt with some of the chattier riders.  I just liked not feeling tethered to a car.  I liked getting my walking in naturally.

I also realized how much I love my car, my nine-year-old, seen-better-days Prius.  It had been feeling a little rickety, but now feels smooth and sturdy.  Thanks, Steve.  For the good work, AND for the fun (in retrospect) experience. 

At Long Last, Knee Relief

I finally, finally took a day off, but it wasn't yesterday, it was today.  Yesterday, it was planned, as usual, but I was meeting some friends after work at Fair Bean Coffee on South 1st, almost exactly three miles from the office, and once again, I couldn't resist that ideal, uphill walk.  I get in a zone when I walk uphill in traffic.  I walk fast and I focus straight ahead.  After that, I walked to my house, a mile away, and then took Banks on another mile.  My knees were really beginning to rebel after nine straight days of more like 50 miles than 45 (all those New Orleans walks), and I decided that come hell or high water, I was resting them Saturday.

Today I had work in San Antonio, and no car, so I took the bus to a car rental place 6.2 miles away.  I wasn't even tempted this time.  My bus driver was an exceptionally chatty guy, and since the bus was mostly empty, and I was sitting right behind him, I was the recipient of all of his wisdom on fitness.  And he had a lot to share.  He bikes, mostly, and is especially conscientious of his health due to his very sedentary job.  We were running ahead of schedule, so at one of our stops, he apologized and said we'd have to sit for about five minutes.  Not a problem, I assured him.  He got off the bus and stretched his legs against a stone wall.  Then he got back on the bus, and with no warning, grabbed the railings and did a "skin the cat" move -- first backward, hold it for a few beats, and then slowly rewind to the standing position.  Okay, that was a new one.  I begged him to repeat it at the next stop so I could take a picture, and after I gave him my word that I was not a company spy, he obliged. 

 

The logistics of turning in my rental car tomorrow by 9:00 am, and getting a ride to Bastrop to pick up my car (if it's ready),  are about to undo me.