Slug(ish) Fest

I thought I would get involved with the PTO of my son’s new middle school.  I’m not a particularly ‘gala’ gal and selling stuff I’ve never been good at.  But organizing, sorting, writing, that kind of stuff is right up my alley… so I agreed to be the “P” part Chair of the school’s 5K.  A decision whose ramifications did not illuminate themselves immediately.

The first clue was when my daughter asked me if I went to the gym anymore.  “No, honey. Our gym closed down.”  Says she, “There’re other gyms, mama.”  Yikes!  It was not the first time she had remarked on my weight. 

I chose the 5K for a number of reasons.  First, I’ve done them… In a time BC (before children) though, but nonetheless I am familiar with the whole deal.  Second, it was the latest event in the school year that didn’t have a chair yet.  Lame, yes, but I figured it’d give me time to get my sea-legs at the school.

Then my son mentioned my actual legs.  I don’t recall what he said exactly or the context but the gist was I needed to be able to actually run a 5K if I was going to organize one…  Ummm….  He is right of course.  And time is not slowing down waiting for me to get motivated.

So I started with a cleanse.  I tried to do 28 days, made it three weeks.  I wasn’t perfect but I was already starting to feel lighter.  The problem of course is my (*gulp* 50lbs? overweight) body is out of shape and sluggish.  For a number of reasons.  I broke my arm in January 2012, pretty badly, and then rebroke it in May of that year.  Gravity was not my friend for many months but painkillers were (I don’t mean it like that! Seriously…), and I ended up taking prescribed and then over the counter ones for about 5 months, which it turns out, is a very long time and a very lot of pain killers for a poor little body to process.  Then physical therapy, focused on my arm and so the legs were a little neglected…. Flash forward to 18+ months later and the arm is fine, almost like it never happened apart from a barely noticeable bump, and a little pain when it’s overworked.

But I can’t blame it entirely on the broken arm.  I’d been living in the lap of relative sedentary living since I had children.  Ironically, when they were smaller and needed more care it was easier to get to the gym more regularly.  It’s nice when the gym is entertaining for the kids to go to so you can avoid the fuss and subsequent guilt.  Then our gym closed down, then we went to another and that one closed down!  But honestly, even with a place to work out running hadn’t been on my menu for a while.  I just have felt heavy and sluggish for years (thus the cleanse) and running has never been easy for me or readily enjoyable no matter what the long term benefits.  That said, before my son was born I actually was just starting to get into triathlon and thought I’d continue it on a few months after the kids were born… well…  Turns out what was on my menu was kid food.  It is that anxiety that is born of a sense of lack, that preternatural inability to waste food.  So what hopped on to my menu were things kids didn’t finish, the three goldfish left in the cup, the other 10 cookies the kids and I baked and ate exactly one each and refused any more, the leftovers everyone else in the household declined to eat, the grapes that were about ready to become raisins that then went into my already full lunch.  It was a problem, one I have been addressing.  But still, I feel sluggish.

And yet, here it is almost October.  I know me and how long it took me to get ready to run my first 5K and I am seriously pushing it.  So, today, with afternoon temperatures finally in the heavenly 90s (I know that sounds weird but I live in the Coachella Valley where for almost 5 months it doesn’t dip into the 90s till midnight) and a cool breeze, I thought I’d get me and the dog off our fat asses and run around the soccer park.  OK, yes, I hear ya, that’s funny… hahaha, run!  OK, let’s call it a fast schooch – with pain.  Buttercup did not understand why she didn’t get her nice leisurely sniffy-fantastic tool around, and I most certainly looked silly.  But I got it done.  The start.  Phew.  Many more portions of miles to go!

Bl-itter-ing idiot

bl·itter

noun, bl-itter-ing, bl-itter-verse,

1. Not quite as tedious as a whole blog post, not quite as cryptic and requiring of a click here escapade as a tweet.

An employer of mine died recently.   More than an employer, a friend.  Well, like a wonderful aunt you get to visit once a week and you really don’t mind.  I wasn’t related to her and I’d worked for her once a week, half a day, for six years.  We knew she was going to die.  But even when it is expected it is unexpected.

She died over a week ago but today really sucked.  When you aren’t related or terribly close to, but just terribly fond of, someone you don’t get all the stages of grief.  You get just a couple.  You have to pass over anger because afterall what is it to you.  You can’t in all seriousness do denial because no one would believe you.  And bargaining is out because you have no leverage with the universe.  So what you are left with is depression and acceptance…and who is really going to believe you are really depressed?

And yet there it is.  It is depressing because it means the order of the universe has changed in a favor of which you are not quite sure of yet.  You have to accept way before everyone else so you can steady on.  And that is all OK, but it still sucks.  Because you end up in a place that is not really fair to be in, you don’t get to ride on the boat with all the other passengers.  You have to wade in depression till everyone else catches up and meets you at the docks of acceptance.  And I think this is what happens when we learn of someone dying that we don’t know well, or hear of someone passing before their time, or when someone you know’s father dies, which also happened last week.  You have to bypass stages 1 through 3 and hang in the edge of 4, in this mild to icky funk knowing the only thing to do shortly is to accept something you are really not happy about but there is no other choice.

But as I like to say, white wine fixes everything… or at least is a moderately good way to pass the time till you get to stage 5.