I thought I had the most brilliant idea yesterday -- to take my walk over the lunch hour, when it would still be cold, but not bitter cold like first thing in the morning. I walked to the lake, did the whole four-mile loop around it, and walked back to the office, and it was a good thing I came in at 7:00 that day, because I was gone for close to two hours. There were times when it was pretty sedate, and times when I almost got blown off the trail and into the water.
All in all, it was a pleasant but ordinary walk. Then about 3:00, I started asking people around me if they were cold. Everyone said no. About 15 minutes later, I was shaking and couldn't stop. I put my jacket on, and it didn't help at all; I still felt the chill in my bones. By 4:00, I was emailing my book club and telling them I was coming down with something, and there was no way I could join them tonight and infect them with whatever was fermenting inside of me. All I could think of was getting home, getting under the covers and sleeping it off.
On the way out, Michelle told me it sounded like cedar fever. Really? My reaction to cedar has usually just been headaches, and besides, cedar wouldn't create the fever that was already starting, would it? She said these sound exactly like cedar reactions. She reminded me that I'd walked around the lake, with all of those trees, and that's probably what accounted for the shape I was in. Add to that the high winds which were blowing the stuff around like crazy.
I think she was right. I slept it off -- well, most of it, my throat is still a little scratchy today, and sleeping from 4:45 to 1:15, then from 3:00-6:00, has thrown my schedule off a bit. Tonight is Steve's (Chicago Steve) annual Christmas party, and I want to go. I'm going to take my walk after work, with a diaphnous scarf around my neck to block out most of the pollens, and take my chances.
Three hundred and six walks down, seven to go.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Six
I finally got up the courage to step on the scale at work yesterday, and I've gained six pounds between Thanksgiving and today. Aaagghhh! I'm disgusted with myself, but I can't say I'm surprised. What is the statistic? I think I've heard that the average person gains seven pounds over the holidays, or maybe it's 11. But I think it's the kind of weight that comes off easily. It comes from uncharacteristically eating more (especially sweets), my body kind of goes into shock and overreacts, but then it self-corrects after a few days of proper eating. At least that's how it seems to go with me.
Yesterday I did not have once piece of sugar, and I didn't eat one thing between meals. In other words, the way I usually eat. It is amazing how much better I feel today, not just my body but my mood. Garbage in, garbage out.
There is apparently a ton of cedar, or something like it, in the air. I don't know if I'd call myself allergic, but my reaction to that stuff is not watery eyes or stuffed-up sinuses, it's bone-weary exhaustion. I came home from work yesterday and wanted to just fall into bed, but there is no way, this close to the finish line, I'm going to blow it. So I took Banks on exactly the same walk I'd gone on the night before, because it ended up being exactly an hour and a half, but of course with Banks it was slightly longer than that. And hot. Once again, I kept on my work clothes, which yesterday included a long skirt, tights and boots. I walked in those! I don't know why, but just like the night before, I guess I wanted some variety, and I wanted to sweat. The cold front (it's blustery and loud outside right now) came in overnight, and I am praying that we'll have this kind of weather through the end of the year.
Don't you hate when you have a dream when you can't breathe? I dreamed last night I was visiting someone at a school, and I couldn't get my breath, and I went to find the school nurse, who told me it was allergies. I had to wake up to get a full breath!
Today is yet another full-on potluck (office-wide, not just our smaller group) and white elephant. I swear I am not going to take one bit of anything, because, like an alcoholic, my problem is stopping once I've started. Never got the hang of that "just take a bit or two" of something high-calorie and delicious. And I think you know my policy on the white elephant thing.
Yesterday I did not have once piece of sugar, and I didn't eat one thing between meals. In other words, the way I usually eat. It is amazing how much better I feel today, not just my body but my mood. Garbage in, garbage out.
There is apparently a ton of cedar, or something like it, in the air. I don't know if I'd call myself allergic, but my reaction to that stuff is not watery eyes or stuffed-up sinuses, it's bone-weary exhaustion. I came home from work yesterday and wanted to just fall into bed, but there is no way, this close to the finish line, I'm going to blow it. So I took Banks on exactly the same walk I'd gone on the night before, because it ended up being exactly an hour and a half, but of course with Banks it was slightly longer than that. And hot. Once again, I kept on my work clothes, which yesterday included a long skirt, tights and boots. I walked in those! I don't know why, but just like the night before, I guess I wanted some variety, and I wanted to sweat. The cold front (it's blustery and loud outside right now) came in overnight, and I am praying that we'll have this kind of weather through the end of the year.
Don't you hate when you have a dream when you can't breathe? I dreamed last night I was visiting someone at a school, and I couldn't get my breath, and I went to find the school nurse, who told me it was allergies. I had to wake up to get a full breath!
Today is yet another full-on potluck (office-wide, not just our smaller group) and white elephant. I swear I am not going to take one bit of anything, because, like an alcoholic, my problem is stopping once I've started. Never got the hang of that "just take a bit or two" of something high-calorie and delicious. And I think you know my policy on the white elephant thing.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The White Elephant Thing
After taking the day off yesterday, I was ready to jump back into it today. Warm ONCE AGAIN, I left Banks at home because I've been eating crappily the last few days, and really needed a good hill workout. I got it. But it's not enough. Seriously, would people PLEASE stop bringing stuff into the office to eat? I want so badly to finish this thing strong! I wanted to try to lose eight pounds this month, and honestly, I've been afraid to get on the scale the last two weeks. Hope springs eternal. I have two weeks left.
Friday was our office's informal Christmas lunch (Home Slice Pizza and salad) and white elephant gift exchange. Do you hate that tradition as much as I do? I mean the white elephant thing, not the lunch. Maybe I'm a little on the sensitive side, but I have always found the routine of scheming for gifts, stealing away ones you like, discarding the ones you don't, and getting hyper-competitive in the process, to be off-putting and SO not in the Christmas spirit. I know others don't see it that way. Where I see grabbiness and greed, they see hilarity and high spirits. Whatever. So I told our admin, who arranged the whole thing, that I was going to opt out of the gift exchange. No big deal, right?
But it turned into a very big deal, where I was apparently the only one not participating, and that was going to throw off the numbers, so someone was sent to fetch me, and I politely declined, which provoked great consternation back in the conference room......aaggghhh!!! And I somehow ended up looking like a condescending prig, when all I was trying to do was avoid a situation that I know from experience is uncomfortable. I probably didn't help matters any by trying to convince everyone that maybe next year we could consider the type of gift exchange my GNO group does, or better yet, adopt a family or a foster child. Sure, they nodded, but I sensed some internal eye-rolling. Party pooper.
So in hindsight, it wasn't a big deal, it's over and forgotten. But it won't happen next year because I'll be totally clear about it and unflustered and unapologetic about my stand on white elephant. Which is that it's kind of sucky.
Friday was our office's informal Christmas lunch (Home Slice Pizza and salad) and white elephant gift exchange. Do you hate that tradition as much as I do? I mean the white elephant thing, not the lunch. Maybe I'm a little on the sensitive side, but I have always found the routine of scheming for gifts, stealing away ones you like, discarding the ones you don't, and getting hyper-competitive in the process, to be off-putting and SO not in the Christmas spirit. I know others don't see it that way. Where I see grabbiness and greed, they see hilarity and high spirits. Whatever. So I told our admin, who arranged the whole thing, that I was going to opt out of the gift exchange. No big deal, right?
But it turned into a very big deal, where I was apparently the only one not participating, and that was going to throw off the numbers, so someone was sent to fetch me, and I politely declined, which provoked great consternation back in the conference room......aaggghhh!!! And I somehow ended up looking like a condescending prig, when all I was trying to do was avoid a situation that I know from experience is uncomfortable. I probably didn't help matters any by trying to convince everyone that maybe next year we could consider the type of gift exchange my GNO group does, or better yet, adopt a family or a foster child. Sure, they nodded, but I sensed some internal eye-rolling. Party pooper.
So in hindsight, it wasn't a big deal, it's over and forgotten. But it won't happen next year because I'll be totally clear about it and unflustered and unapologetic about my stand on white elephant. Which is that it's kind of sucky.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Worlds Collide
Today was such a busy day -- nursery duty (the college kids are all gone), church, my bro-in-law in town (right now he and Sam out are having a drink, and when that's over, the three "grown-ups" are having dinner together somewhere) -- that I had to just fit my walk in where I could, in street clothes. I gave Banks a treat and we cut several times through the woods, then back to St. Ed's, where I noticed two things: 1) the track around the soccer field was devoid of ANY people or canines, and 2) it was a mess. There had been a soccer game there yesterday, and the fans left coffee cups, water bottles, McDonald's wrappings and lots of other disgusting things lying in the stands and around the field.
So in honor of #1, I did something I've never done -- I let Banks off-leash. There was just enough nip in the air that that, combined with this unexpected freedom, sent him into a frenzy of galloping and snorthing around the field. It was a beautiful thing to see. And since I've spent so much time at that place that I've started to feel a sense of ownership, I decided to combine my walk with a community service project, and single-handedly cleaned the field. Yes, the whole thing. Banks and I walked around and around the field, and each time I gathered as much as I could in each hand. It took about four trips around the perimeter, as well as several vertical detours into the stands, but the place looked really good when we left.
Last night was Sam's graduation celebration at Fogo de Chao, and it included him, Lynn, Jackson and me. This is a relatively new thing. For the past several years, our boys' birthdays and other events have been celebrated jointly with their father and stepmother and me. We all get along great, and I loved all of us being together for these special occasions. Then earlier this year, I had an interesting conversation with a friend, also divorced, who had suggested to her teenage girls that their father come over for dinner one night. Horrified, they let her know in no uncertain terms that "There is no WE anymore!" That his house represented one family, and her house represented another family, and never the twain should meet.
I mentioned this to my boys, and said something like, Wasn't it great that their dad and I had such a good relationship that we could still do things as a family? I was not prepared for their answer. They let me know that, as much as WE may have enjoyed those dinners (me in particular, since their dad always picked fancy places and picked up the bill), it was awkward and uncomfortable for them. WHAT??? I thought we were all having so much fun!! Wasn't this the way it was supposed to be? Isn't that what all the experts, Oprah, the "Modern Family" writers told us we should strive for?
It was an eye-opener, that conversation. We thought we were doing the right thing, but their reaction tells me that the pain of divorce is deep, deeper than we might want to admit to ourselves. Maybe for some kids, it will never get to the point where they're blase about it. Maybe the best you can do is maintain a cordial friendship, respect those boundaries, and not make a display in front of your kids that their parents' marriage did not last, and that they've moved on.
Maybe it's not that way for everyone, but I've done a little more informal, anecdotal research on the subject, and apparently my boys, and Cathy's girls, are not alone in their sentiments. Lesson learned, humbly processed.
So in honor of #1, I did something I've never done -- I let Banks off-leash. There was just enough nip in the air that that, combined with this unexpected freedom, sent him into a frenzy of galloping and snorthing around the field. It was a beautiful thing to see. And since I've spent so much time at that place that I've started to feel a sense of ownership, I decided to combine my walk with a community service project, and single-handedly cleaned the field. Yes, the whole thing. Banks and I walked around and around the field, and each time I gathered as much as I could in each hand. It took about four trips around the perimeter, as well as several vertical detours into the stands, but the place looked really good when we left.
Last night was Sam's graduation celebration at Fogo de Chao, and it included him, Lynn, Jackson and me. This is a relatively new thing. For the past several years, our boys' birthdays and other events have been celebrated jointly with their father and stepmother and me. We all get along great, and I loved all of us being together for these special occasions. Then earlier this year, I had an interesting conversation with a friend, also divorced, who had suggested to her teenage girls that their father come over for dinner one night. Horrified, they let her know in no uncertain terms that "There is no WE anymore!" That his house represented one family, and her house represented another family, and never the twain should meet.
I mentioned this to my boys, and said something like, Wasn't it great that their dad and I had such a good relationship that we could still do things as a family? I was not prepared for their answer. They let me know that, as much as WE may have enjoyed those dinners (me in particular, since their dad always picked fancy places and picked up the bill), it was awkward and uncomfortable for them. WHAT??? I thought we were all having so much fun!! Wasn't this the way it was supposed to be? Isn't that what all the experts, Oprah, the "Modern Family" writers told us we should strive for?
It was an eye-opener, that conversation. We thought we were doing the right thing, but their reaction tells me that the pain of divorce is deep, deeper than we might want to admit to ourselves. Maybe for some kids, it will never get to the point where they're blase about it. Maybe the best you can do is maintain a cordial friendship, respect those boundaries, and not make a display in front of your kids that their parents' marriage did not last, and that they've moved on.
Maybe it's not that way for everyone, but I've done a little more informal, anecdotal research on the subject, and apparently my boys, and Cathy's girls, are not alone in their sentiments. Lesson learned, humbly processed.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Very Last (I think) 10-Mile Walk
It's been a while.
After work I had two home visits last night. Traffic was horrendous, and I was dead tired when I got home, close to 8:30. Did I not remember how I almost never plan anything for Friday for this very reason? That the cumulative effect of 40+ hours of work, socializing, meetings and lunches make this introvert very much ready for a solitary Friday? Driving home, already tired, I knew I could not face a five-mile walk, not only because of the above reasons, but because I knew I'd be glued to CNN's coverage of the school shooting in Connecticut. Do not get me started.
So I did what I've done, I think, four or five times, and skipped the walk in favor of 10 miles the next day. Which was today. I had a self-indulgent morning, then a Christmas luncheon, got home around 1:15 and was out the door by 2:00. It was unseasonably warm, even muggy today, and Banks was not into it, so I brought him home at 3:15. That left an hour and 45 minutes. I crossed over St. Ed's campus, wove through the neighborhoods on the other side of it, came back, make ever-tightening concentric circles around St. Ed's, and confidently approached a guy wearing a watch and asked for the time. "Ten after four," he responded. That couldn't be right, I thought. Five minutes later I asked a guy staring at his phone. "Four-fifteen," he said briskly. Okay. My knees were aching and I was starving, but I soldiered on. The time crept by, because I was sure I'd been gone longer, but got home at 4:40. No problem I'm going to Fogo's tonight (Sam's college graduation and late birthday celebration), I always park a few blocks away, and I'll neet to take Banks for a fast potty walk afterwards, to I'll make it up.
I dreamed last night that I took Banks to Lady Bird Lake, and someone stopped us and said it'd be $4.95 for access to the trail.
After work I had two home visits last night. Traffic was horrendous, and I was dead tired when I got home, close to 8:30. Did I not remember how I almost never plan anything for Friday for this very reason? That the cumulative effect of 40+ hours of work, socializing, meetings and lunches make this introvert very much ready for a solitary Friday? Driving home, already tired, I knew I could not face a five-mile walk, not only because of the above reasons, but because I knew I'd be glued to CNN's coverage of the school shooting in Connecticut. Do not get me started.
So I did what I've done, I think, four or five times, and skipped the walk in favor of 10 miles the next day. Which was today. I had a self-indulgent morning, then a Christmas luncheon, got home around 1:15 and was out the door by 2:00. It was unseasonably warm, even muggy today, and Banks was not into it, so I brought him home at 3:15. That left an hour and 45 minutes. I crossed over St. Ed's campus, wove through the neighborhoods on the other side of it, came back, make ever-tightening concentric circles around St. Ed's, and confidently approached a guy wearing a watch and asked for the time. "Ten after four," he responded. That couldn't be right, I thought. Five minutes later I asked a guy staring at his phone. "Four-fifteen," he said briskly. Okay. My knees were aching and I was starving, but I soldiered on. The time crept by, because I was sure I'd been gone longer, but got home at 4:40. No problem I'm going to Fogo's tonight (Sam's college graduation and late birthday celebration), I always park a few blocks away, and I'll neet to take Banks for a fast potty walk afterwards, to I'll make it up.
I dreamed last night that I took Banks to Lady Bird Lake, and someone stopped us and said it'd be $4.95 for access to the trail.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Detour
Well, tonight was an interesting choice in walks. Maybe it had something to do with the glass of wine I had with my burrito tonight. After a very early dinner, I chose to get the walk done fast, so Banks and I left the house at 6:05, with no real plan. But I felt myself drawn toward the lights and smells and activity of South Congress, and went with it. I assumed we'd do the usual -- get to the bottom of the hill and start the long climb back home -- but as we got closer to the Congress Avenue bridge, it occurred to me that we hadn't been on the Town Lake trail in a very long time. It was dark, but still relatively early. So we crossed the bridge, took a left until we got to the 1st St. bridge, and there was our beloved trail, just down the hill. It was about 7:00 pm at that time, and there were still plenty of joggers out. Since we'd already taken 2/3 of the walk, I didn't feel the need to stay on the trail a terribly long time, just felt the need to touch base after so many weeks. On the way back, just for variety, we kept to the residential streets east off Congess, and got home at 7:45, an extra half-mile or so.
I've made numerous references to my recurrent insomnia here, so let me report some good news for a change. For the past 4-5 nights, I've kept a radio at my bedside with classical music on, VERY softly, all night long. I've woken up a couple of times, as I always do, but go right back to sleep. Honestly, I feel like the music -- which I think they deliberately keep low-key during the overnight hours -- seeps into my subconscious and lulls my brain into sleep. Might want to give it a try.
I've made numerous references to my recurrent insomnia here, so let me report some good news for a change. For the past 4-5 nights, I've kept a radio at my bedside with classical music on, VERY softly, all night long. I've woken up a couple of times, as I always do, but go right back to sleep. Honestly, I feel like the music -- which I think they deliberately keep low-key during the overnight hours -- seeps into my subconscious and lulls my brain into sleep. Might want to give it a try.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Up with People
On the way home last night, climbing southward on Congress, traffic was particularly slow, so I had plenty of time to study the, shall we say, aggressive bumper stickers on the car in front of me. The most in-your-face was "Practice safe sex. Go f--k yourself." Is that even legal? Isn't there something on the books about public obscenity? Imagine having an eight-year-old in the front seat with you, reading that. And how about this one: "Nice truck. Sorry your penis is so small." Okay, that one was funny. I tried to maneuver my car to a parallel lane to catch a glimpse of the misanthrope inside, with no luck, but I am going to assume it was a male. A male who has suffered a great deal of disappoinment in his life. A male who keeps the world at bay with a force field of hostility and antagonism. A male who -- okay, I'm getting carried away here, but dude, WHAT is your problem?
I thought the cold weather was going to be a catalyst for my night walks -- and it is invigorating, once I actually get started -- but I'm finding that all I want to do when I get home is get into my jammies and settle in for the night. Remember when I went through that phase, several months ago, when I would come home, take a nap, and THEN do my walk? There is no way I could pull myself out of that warm bed at 8:30 or 9:00 pm, like I did over the summer, so that is not even an option. Tonight Banks and I mixed Congress Avenue with the Stacy Park Hills, no music, no clock, and came home EXACTLY 1 1/2 hours later. And here I sit watching "Top Chef," once again pondering the mystery of how such a terrible cook can find so much pleasure in WATCHING what is so stressful to actually DO.
I thought the cold weather was going to be a catalyst for my night walks -- and it is invigorating, once I actually get started -- but I'm finding that all I want to do when I get home is get into my jammies and settle in for the night. Remember when I went through that phase, several months ago, when I would come home, take a nap, and THEN do my walk? There is no way I could pull myself out of that warm bed at 8:30 or 9:00 pm, like I did over the summer, so that is not even an option. Tonight Banks and I mixed Congress Avenue with the Stacy Park Hills, no music, no clock, and came home EXACTLY 1 1/2 hours later. And here I sit watching "Top Chef," once again pondering the mystery of how such a terrible cook can find so much pleasure in WATCHING what is so stressful to actually DO.
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