Run for Regularity, Routine and Ritual

12 May

These are three of the main reasons I run.

Regularity.  Routine.  Ritual.

It is part of what I do. Part of who I am.

As much as I enjoy the process of running, I also enjoy the process of preparing for a run. Waking up early on Saturday mornings, eating enough the night before, planning my route, laying out my gear, getting my head in the game, praying for the perfect running weather (I had it yesterday).

Some people run because they like to race.

And some of us only race because we love to run.

And we grow frustrated when the routine is disrupted because of injury. The regularity provides rhythm to our days. And we are comfortable in our pre and post run rituals – the hydrating, stretching, showering, icing, foam rolling, eating.

But learning to let go of the regularity, the routine, the ritual is also important. Learning to still be yourself and be content, even on the weekends and days and months when you can’t run. When your body has had too much.  When your mind is not prepared. When other more important things take precedence.

I love to run. But I don’t live to run. And knowing that distinction makes all the difference.

Into the Thick of IT

9 May

Nothing like diving head first into a new project while you’re still recovering from being sick. As my doctor put it, “an ear infection, strep throat, or pneumonia on their own would be enough of an excuse to check out from life for a while.  But all three…I don’t envy you.”

IT – Information Technology

I’m pretty fearful of this new job assignment.  Leaving my comfort zone – the windowed corner office, the great boss, the daily swing from mundane tasks to creative hilarity, the knowledge that I know my job inside and out – is not easy.  Sharing a windowless office with two other people, on a different floor (in very close proximity to someone I’ve spent a few years trying to steer clear of), semi-reporting to someone I don’t particularly see eye-to-eye with, doing the tasks I hate the most: testing, designing, configuring.

It could be a great experience.  It could be a pretty awful year. There is a very selfish part of me that feels I am “owed” an easy year after the past three of craziness + MBA.

I know this an opportunity to work on my attitude but today’s first thought upon waking up was “I don’t want to do this anymore.”  Probably not the greatest attitude to have on Day 3…when I have 332 of them more to come.

IT – IT Band Injury

I’m still on the path to recovery.  I now can run 20-30 miles a week without an issue although there is plenty of ongoing maintenance to be down in the three major areas:

  • Balance (latest accomplishment: balancing on one leg on a Bosu Ball for 3:01 while throwing a ball back and forth to someone else)
  • Hip & Glute Strengthening (daily, didn’t realize how much I was improving until I saw someone else starting out…)
  • Foam Rolling & Stretching (could be better at devoting more time to this)

My latest PT appointment went very well.  Meeting with her only once every other week should make me happy but I think I’ve gotten into that place where I view it as a comfort and security blanket.  I like having someone else assure me that I’m doing well and my IT band is not tight.  I even like the painful digging out of the IT band because it helps me feel that we’re “staying ahead” of any future injuries.  Phasing out PT is scary.

Even harder, one of my good friends is developing the same injury.  This frustrates me because he’s been the one working at keeping me injury free.  The good news is that he now has a friend who has been there.  I am a wealth of wisdom about IT band injuries and recovery and what exercises to do and how to care for yourself physically and mentally during a long term injury recovery. The bad news is that every time I speak to him, I end up thinking “I needed someone just like me for the past 4-5 months!” I’m actually jealous of myself as a comforter/encourager/knowledge of IT band injuries.

Why?

Because we can only play one role at a time.  

When I am the one frustrated by my injury, I cannot also logically and calmly comfort myself by speaking truth about IT band recovery.  I can only play one role at a time.

It’s the same issue at work. I can only play one role at a time.  I have to give up the role that I enjoyed (although it was stressful) to delve into something new.  I owe my new “Best Friend” (the guy paired with me as my Technical Lead for the next year) optimism about this project. But I have to let go of the things I enjoyed about my old position.  And I have to help 1500 employees let go of emailing/calling/dropping in constantly for advice and aid.  I can only play one role at a time.

 

If Sweeney Todd Played Baseball

7 May

My latest Red Sox blog post can be found here.

LBS and PDA in the Grocery Store

5 May

Today has been a rough day for me.  As my doctor pointed out when he diagnosed me with an ear infection, strep throat and mild pneumonia, I am an over-achiever.  Even when it comes to getting sick.  I thought I had a common cold.  Apparently, it’s a little less common.

So it has been quite the underwhelming day around here.  Usually, I have a long run in the morning and then cleaning the apartment and errands and homework and fun activities in the afternoon and evening.  This weekend was going to be my first without homework so I was especially excited.

Instead, the highlights were as follows:

  • Turning the “making ice” setting on in my freezer.
  • Taking out the trash.  Getting the mail.
  • Doing a load of laundry including clean sheets.
  • Writing a Mother’s Day card, a birthday card and planning my meals for the week.
  • Making a shopping list.
  • Eating a Greek yogurt.
  • Making a chocolate almond milk smoothie.
  • Watching lots of Netflix while huddled under a blanket.
  • Taking meds every 3-4 hours. Which you aren’t supposed to take on an empty stomach but I was not hungry.
  • Trying not to breathe because my throat hurt too much.
  • Having to breathe.
  • Eyes watering every time I would breathe because it hurt so much.
  • Having to cough.
  • Trying not to cough because my throat hurt so much.
  • Coughing to the point where my body couldn’t seem to stop until it was gagging on the coughs.

As you can see, it was a riveting day.  I managed a one hour nap which was definitely the highlight. Spending all day summoning the energy to go grocery shopping (on a Saturday!) was the lowlight. But by 8 pm, with no food in the house, I knew that it was time (coincidentally, my daytime cold meds ran out at 7:45 and I needed a new dose.  Suddenly, the grocery store seemed like a great outing.)

Saturday nights at the grocery store are not pleasant when you live in a city. Especially when the Red Sox aren’t playing an evening game (Shaws is dead during games).  Especially when only 2 of the 8 checkout lines are open.  And that includes the Express lanes. Especially when the people you keep running into in the aisles look and act like TBag from Prison Break and make you clutch your wallet a little closer.  Especially when you have a headache and a swollen throat and feel miserable and have incredibly low blood sugar (LBS) which makes you want to call your Mom and curl up on the floor until she arrives.

But finally, my cart was full of brown rice and Greek yogurt and bananas and onions and peppers and cans of chicken soup.  And I headed to 1 of the 2 checkout lanes prepared to go home, eat, and go to sleep.

Except that the couple in front of me was apparently not interested in their groceries.  No.  They stood in the aisle making out. Lots of PDA.  And I thought unkind thoughts like “Really?  Wow!  This must be love if you can’t keep your hands off each other long enough to unload your groceries.”  ”I am so glad you are proving to all of us how deeply you care for each other by kissing when you should be paying for groceries.”  There was one break in the 7 minute lip-locking when she said “Baby, do you want a Snickers or a Reese’s?” and then giggled and tossed both on the conveyor belt and went back to kissing him. When the cashier started saying “Excuse me?  Can you either move aside or unload your cart” they were unperturbed.

Then, it happened.  The TBag ex-convicts joined the line behind me.  Actually, they did more than that. They grabbed my cart and pushed it until it shoved the affectionate couple.  And they kept shoving until the couple got the idea and started unloading their cart. With very annoyed “can’t you tell that I’m in the middle of something?” looks.  I kinda wanted to thank the scary ex-convicts behind me. Except I didn’t really want to get shanked. I may be an over-achiever but ear infection/strep throat/pneumonia/robbed/shanked/left for dead seemed like a tad too much drama for the first Saturday in May.

So I just smiled in their direction.  And then counted down the minutes until I would be home in my apartment with my precious bottle of cough syrup and the ability to ease my LBS state.

But I don’t plan on grocery shopping on a Saturday ever again.

 

 

 

Why Women Need Each Other

2 May

Guys are great.  They can make you feel protected and cared for and loved and pretty.  ”But when I need to talk my feelings to death, really sit and analyze why I am confused/lonely/ecstatic, they’re just not up to it. It’s not for lack of trying, but men can only go over the same thing so many times. They don’t understand that, as women, we crave having someone validate our feelings.  And then do it twice more.”  - MWF seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche

I read this and laughed out loud.  And got annoyed because she basically said what I’ve been wanting to say.  Then I read this:

“Here’s my idea of real intimacy”, Ann Patchett writes. “It’s not the person who calls to say, ‘I’m having an affair’; it’s the friend who calls to say, ‘Why do I have four jars of pickles in my refrigerator?’”  I want someone with whom I can talk about the deep stuff – hopes and dreams and expectations and disappointments – and also the minutiae. Sometimes it takes talking about everything to get to the place where we can talk about nothing. - MWF seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche

Women make great friends because we can and do validate each other. We instinctually know that sometimes we need to dump or talk things out. We don’t need a solution or even expect one. But we need to say things and have you agree that we did/though/experienced something normal or abnormal and that our reactions were correct. And we also need the four jars of pickles conversations.  Revealing our neuroses, asking for advice on why we are the way that we are, realizing that we’re all pretty similar even if on the surface our issues manifest themselves differently, and then re-engaged with mainstream life once we feel validated.

Sometimes, my girl friends and I have conversations that don’t have a point.  (Every guy reading this, if there are any, has tuned out by now.)

Sometimes, my girl friends and I over analyze things.  And sometimes we just analyze them.  I don’t think we ever under analyze things.  Not even the tabloids or the grocery circular sales.

We feel indignation and rejection and betrayal on behalf of each other. We feel excitement and anticipation on behalf of each other. We aren’t all catty and overly-fashionable and self-consumed.  At least not the women I’m friends with.

The frustrating bit is when we forget to seek each other out for our feelings discussions and prey on an unsuspecting or unprepared male.  Doesn’t matter if it is husband/boyfriend/friend/stranger, it never ends well.  We talk.  They interrupt to offer a suggestion or a solution.  We feel invalidated because they never said “Yes, those feelings are natural.  I would feel the same way.  How did that make you feel?  Are you okay?  They said X because they were implying Y and that obviously hurt your feelings and I can’t believe they would do that.”  Instead, they say “Don’t worry about it.  (Which means: Don’t worry about it.  But we take it to mean: “Your feelings are not valid, get over them.”)  And they say: “They said X because they meant X. And you took it as Z when it was really just X.” (There is probably some truth to this if it was a male speaking.  If it was a female speaking, not so much.)  Sometimes they say “Are you okay?” but that usually happens because they realize an important sports game is about to start and they want you to say “Yes” so they can stop listening and when you try to rehash everything over again, they can say “But you said you were okay now.”

Which is why we need each other, as women, to have these conversations with.

And to discuss the four jars of pickles in our fridge.  Or the horror of swimsuit season. Or why we had a bad day even though we can’t pinpoint a single thing wrong with it. We just felt it was a bad day. (Good days are much more easily explained.)

Clearly, women need each other.  (Right? Can you validate me on this?)

Red Sox Bats are Buzzing

30 Apr

But Pitchers need a Push.

Read it here.

Off to watch the boys live tonight!

Snippets of Spring

29 Apr
  • Darting outdoors during lunch for a gorgeous spring run. “You’re such a workhorse” my coworker says when I pass him at the door. Maybe. But what I feel is grateful that I can take a mental and physical break from my job and spend it outdoors, on bridges crisscrossing my river.
     
  • A month ago, my friend would have asked a random guy at the gym to spot him for his third set on the chest and incline bench press.  And I would stand there useless, the third wheel, waiting for my turn. (I get spotted during every single set.) This month, I get to spot him during that third set and I feel strong and helpful, things I haven’t felt during this entire injury period.  Not only that, but I did one entire chest bench press set on my own (but I got a little anxious at the end so maybe I’m not ready to be alone yet.)
  • Sitting at the Bruins playoff game. Chatting with my boss’ son and realizing that I can do this – talk to people I don’t really know very well and enjoy it.  Then realizing how much people watch out for me – my boss and his son speaking to someone about the guy behind me (one of the owners of the suite we were in) and his inappropriate behavior toward me. Even though it may mean they don’t get invited to any more games.  And my good friend carefully listing off what foods are vinegar free that I can eat and filling the water bottle we were sharing during every TV break. In the past, I would have bristled at people doing things for me, but I’m learning to be grateful.
     
     
  • My long run.  Gorgeous weather.  Gorgeous ocean. Hilarious podcast. Such an unbelievably fun time that I didn’t want it to end. I chose to make it longer than it needed to be because I was in a happy groove. (Although the groove was less happy when I didn’t hit any red lights on the long last 3 miles.  Those red lights give me a chance to breathe and prepare my sprint for the next one…)
  • “This is good news” the PT says.  ”You don’t really need me anymore.  Let’s only meet once every other week instead of twice a week.  And see how your leg does with the additional running.”  And then I spot my PT running a few hundred yards behind me on an evening run that week.  I feel self-conscious.  She will notice my stride.  She will think “Why did I bother to get her healthy if that’s how slow she runs.”  And then I realize that she’s probably actually overjoyed to see her patient healed – running where I couldn’t run before, jumping where I couldn’t jump before, smiling where I was often moody and downcast.
     
  • There was a bad allergic reaction last week during dinner with friends. Our laid back dinner – discussing mostly running and marathons and beer and hockey and soccer – was suddenly disturbed because I could not breathe. So I went outside by myself until it passed.  ( And there was a strange woman who kept trying to talk to me “Are you a smoker?  Why are you here by yourself?  Too much testosterone in there?”)  And I kept hoping the boys would come rescue me but they were too engrossed in their conversation. “We were about to come find you” they said when I got back. And I tried to smile but I knew that my reactions always come in pairs. And the second one is the worst. So this time I asked one of them to come with me. And he did. And it wasn’t fun to feel like you’re drowning inside and you can’t panic because that makes it worse but you need to just envision that tiny sliver of an opening in your throat expanding until you can breathe regularly again.  And then I turned around and he said “Are you okay now?” and I said “I think that was a little bit scary. Can I please have a hug?”  And then, as soon as I felt safe, I started crying. Which turned into laughing.  And then wiping away my tears so my inside-friend would not be upset (he looked a little nervous when we got back inside until I sat down next to him).
  • I don’t cry when I’m scared.  I cry later, when I feel safe.  Does that make sense?  Is that a natural reaction?  And I don’t like people to see me weak and upset and crying.  Only a chosen few. But I also feel the need to be real and raw.  Which partially explains why I told outside-friend “We can’t go inside until I stop crying. I don’t want to upset inside-friend.”  And he understood and hugged me super tight (the way I like it) and said calming things until I was giggling. And then I went inside and inside-friend asked if I was okay and I said “I am now. But I may have cried a little outside. And I didn’t want you to know.”  People are strange. And I am particularly that way.
  • Apparently, I gave good advice to a friend. I told her to not lose herself in her next relationship but to make a list of things that she wanted to do for herself. Her own personal goals.  So she did. And I never saw the list but exactly 12 months later, she found it.  And four of the main items were: Begin an MBA program (she is, and I got to write a recommendation).  See a ballet (she did, my sister starred).  Run a half marathon (done, with me) and a marathon (totally on her own because I was injured but I ran what I could with her).  Unbeknownst to either of us, we checked 4 things off her list. And I was there to coach her thru every single one.  Not only did that really bless me – I am not always the weak one needing a PT and someone to hug me and someone to spot me lifting weights – but it reminded me that it is my turn to write a list and her turn to coach me.  
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