Perspective

In an effort to network and stay motivated, I've been following a bunch of new fitness and running accounts on Instagram.  Social media has a way of inspiring me, giving me new ideas and keeping things fresh. Don't be shy...you can follow me, too! Just be prepared for the occasional Hello Kitty or Star Wars post.

There was a recent post-run photo in my feed from another runner I follow. She wrote that she had maintained a 7.58 pace during her 8-mile run. In my best day, I could never sustain a pace like that. And I only seem to get slower as I get older. We had a small exchange on Intagram, and I mentioned as much. 

She was very gracious, and said that it was all relative: there were other runners faster than her, the important thing was just to get out there and run.
I try to keep things in perspective: after being riddled with annoying setbacks that have kept me sidelined for months at a time (foot problems, thyroid issues, and bulging discs), I am lucky that I can run at all. My Instagram friend has a point; fitness is all relative. For example, people are frequently blown away when they find out that I am a spinning instructor. 

"I could never take a class like that?! It's so hard!" 

There is an intimidation factor for people who have never taken a spinning class. However, I'm of the belief that if you can pedal a bike, then you can take a spin class. Any instructor worth their mettle should offer modifications, and all fitness levels should be welcome. Regardless, there is something in my head that tells me that the stuff I do isn't good enough or doesn't count. 

The fact that I have taught spinning for almost 9 years? It doesn't matter; anyone can ride a stationary bike. I can't get a sub 2-hour half marathon? I'm a slacker, and everyone knows I'm not a 'real' runner. It's enormously frustrating. I would never say such terrible things or undermine a friend's efforts in this way. It is like a bad version of the children's story: The Little Engine That Couldn't. 

Despite all the work I have done, I have to stay one step ahead of my head. Every day, all the time. I know that these things aren't true, but I still have those thoughts. I chalk it up to what the recovery community refers to as an 'obsession of the mind'. 

Some days I can tune it out better than others. 

All You Need To Know

Months ago, I asked a friend if I could do a feature of her blog, All You Need To Know. If you are a regular reader of my own blog, you will recognize her right away: Cristy is one of the few readers who regularly comments on my posts.

I'm an easy person to know, and it's pretty rare that I don't like someone. However, it's not often that someone will surprise or impress me. Cristy is one of those people. She is an avid volleyball player, a dedicated runner and always game for new ideas to keep her workouts fresh. 

I know that she's will probably disagree with my choice of adjective in terms of her running, but it's the truth. It's one thing to do something that comes easily, but sticking with something, even if it's difficult, is another matter entirely. This is what real character is about. We have participated in online weight-loss groups and fitness challenges together, and Cristy even has color-coded spreadsheets for her workout routines.

Cristy is an open book. She is comfortable talking about almost everything and no subject is off-limits (pelvic organ prolapse, anyone?). Cristy and her husband Mark have six children, all grown and gone. She is also the 'big dog momma' to a Bernese Mountain Dog named Jake. 

Big Dog Momma as I will always picture
her...with her big dogs, Jake and Ellie.

When I had to put our beloved girl dog to sleep, Cristy was so kind. She admitted to reading my post about Cafe several times over, which touched me greatly. When she had to put her own beautiful dog Ellie down a year later, I grieved for her loss. 

We are friendly on Facebook and I may or may not have also stalked her Picassa account (hello Bandit, Smokey and Tippy!) in the tiniest way, so I know what her cats and kids all look like. My favorite story in her blog is about her daughter Jenna. Although I have read the story several times, I am unable to find a link to it. It is, however, one of the sweetest testimonies about letting go and doing what is best for our children, and being the adult through difficult situations. 

Cristy may claim to be a relatively sane ice princess, but it's clear she has a heart of gold. 

Twenty Four

Today is my wedding anniversary. I woke up to a sweet chalkboard message from my honey:

Even though it's difficult to see,
Chef Piggie's chalk sign reads:
24 years 

We are both sort of amazed by the fact that so much time has passed. It has gone by in a second, but it also has been a life time of love. I am the luckiest girl in the world. 

What do you get someone after 24 years of gifts? Easy.

That's right. Double your pleasure: Nine Inch Nails...and Soundgarden, all in one venue. I'm not positive, but it's a good bet we are one of the few couples celebrating a wedding anniversary in this way.

Does my love know what I like or what?? 

Feel The Burn

Today wraps up a 5-day celebration in our town called Old Spanish Days. It's peak tourism season here anyway, so the combination of both means tons of traffic and crowds. In terms of drinkers, it's total amateur hour. Imagine that one friend who doesn't know how to handle their liquor or how to pace themselves, stumbling down the sidewalk wearing an enormous 3 foot sombrero - and increase that by 20,000. It's a shot of gratitude for a girl like me.  

I am usually out of town on vacation during week of Fiesta. Since we were home, I was looking forward to catching some of the festivities for the first time in many years. Funnel cake and midway fair games hardly represent Spanish culture, so most locals generally avoid the mercados. The best place for food is at a local church: pozole, tamales, tacos de birria, churros and horchata. Yes, please!  

I went this year with a group of friends. While we waited in line for tamales, my best friend was telling us about how she had planned fun Fiesta-themed activities at her office each Friday, all month long. Being the helpful friend I am, I offered suggestions:

Me: You could hold a hot pepper eating contest! Tell them if their bowels aren't streaked with blood afterwards, then it wasn't hot enough.

My Best Girl: I'm thinking something more along the lines of a homemade salsa competition. 

Me: Right! Okay. You could make a really hot salsa for the judges to try...and call it, 'Fire Booty.'

My Best Girl: (no response)

*****

Ah, Fiesta. It's a good thing you only come once a year. I'm still finding glitter and confetti from the cascarones all over my car and our house. 

Cascarones! If one of these buggers are cracked
over your head, you can expect to be picking
confetti out of your hair for hours.

Viva la Friends...I mean, Fiesta!
I'm not entirely sure what's
going on with my headband. 

Rock It

I'm a terrible shopper. I am notorious for buying clothes without trying them on with the rationale that I can return them, as if I have the luxury of all this extra time on my hands. 

On several occasions, I have purchased an outfit that I love but that wasn't offered in my size, but I bought it anyway. My logic was that it would be a great incentive to lose 5lbs. Yeah, that idea might be great in theory - but it's never worked out to my advantage. 

Anyway, about a year ago I bought a dress that falls into the above category: adorable and super sporty, but just a teensie bit too small. It's made out of a wicking material, similar to Title 9 or Athleta's workout clothing line. I recently rediscovered it in the back of my closet, and without really thinking it all the way through ('It's a dress...and I'm riding a bike.'), I decided it might be cute to wear in my spin class. 

I tried it on...only to discover that I couldn't take it off. 

Time was getting short before I had to leave, and I finally had to throw on a pair of Lulu capri pants underneath and rock the outfit - just like I had intended to wear a dress to spin class. The funny thing? Since I had resolve to just go with it, it actually looked kind of cute. I got a few compliments, and taught one of my best classes of the summer. 

ETA: I managed to get the dress off myself, but only after I sent desperate texts to my daughter asking when she'd be home to help me get unstuck.

Communications

"What? Are you on fire? No? Quit wasting my time; text me that shit!" Aziz Ansari

Admittedly, I was slow getting into the swing of technology: late to have a cell phone, and I came in about 2-3 years after texting was a thing. But now that it's in my life? Holy texting, Batman! 

I LOVE TEXTING. 

I can't emphasize this enough. It is all the good things about succinct communication, with the added benefit of emoticons to drive a point home.

I'm not very good at IM, PM, or FB messenger. It's enormously disconcerting to have shit pop-up while I'm mid-thought...and in Facebook, I've juggled several tandem conversations and thought I was going to lose my nut.

And I am shame-faced to admit that I love getting into a formal, are-you-really-going-there email rant/discussion. I love writing, and I'll beat a misunderstanding or grievance to death with grammar, kindness and 'Oh, No You Didn't'. It gives me a perverse sense of pleasure. 

Talking on the phone? Not so much, unless it's my mom. My mom doesn't live in California and I only get to see her a couple times a year, so we've spent hours on the phone. She doesn't text, although secretly I wish she did. Mostly because she is hopeless with technology, and I am the cruel person who would love to see how that actually played out. It would make great for excellent blog material. For my kids, I actually have a siren-type ringer set on my phone for each of their numbers - because if they're calling me? It's an emergency.

Skype or Facetime? No, and hell no. Just no. I am far too obsessed about what I look like that it drives me to distraction. I spent the majority of a recent Skype call with my daughter's college adviser smoothing my hair, which never resonates confidence. 

My honey? We rarely talk or text during the work day because we're both too busy. Besides, I prefer good old-fashioned face-to-face time with him, any day of the week. *wink, wink*  

Thirty

30 years ago, a high school teacher had the foresight to invite a panel of speakers to my family health class. These men shared their experience, strength and hope. 

It happened around the time it occurred to me that I probably wouldn't live to see my 18th birthday...and that I didn't really even care. The selfless actions of my health teacher and the three men had a hand in changing the outcome of my life.

Meditation votive candles with hand-decorated match boxes

I am enormously grateful and very blessed. All the goodness in my life is a direct result of the altruism of a few amazing people, and my only job is to pay that forward. 

It is my privilege to do so.