#HappyThanksgiving

So, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

And it was a happy one, even though it was my first Thanksgiving as a diabetic. Do you remember yours? Amazing how this disease is quite relentless - there are no breaks, even on holidays or vacations. It's. Still. There.

But I really tried to manage things a bit more this year - space out my eating - and definitely limiting my portions, although if I'm honest, I didn't limit today as much as I usually do. Eating a second helping of anything - let alone stuffing (OMG my favorite) (HELLO CARBS) - is something I've trained myself NOT to do. Except today, I did it. It felt weird.

I guess it's good that it felt weird, right? It's good that I'm now self-monitoring to a point where any excess feels weird. I might be over-indulging, but at least I'm aware of it. And in some weird way, I actually feel LESS guilty about it now than I used to pre-diabetes - what's THAT about?

I guess part of it is that now, a lot of the voices I've carried around with me are silenced, and so is that condemnatory guilt they used to shout at me. The guilt I feel now is more related to my actual health and well-being, rather than some sense of disappointing someone else. And so the guilt I feel now is less controlling in some way - less pushy - less noisy, for sure - less bitchy.

For many years of our marriage, Hubby and I have hosted Thanksgiving at our house. This year, we traveled to see family, so there was hardly any work for me to do today. I did a lot of sitting around and relaxing. I took two different mini-naps on the couch. We had a good, solid (not-too-carby) breakfast, a very light lunch, and ate our Thanksgiving meal mid-afternoon. 

After our meal, we had the obligatory round of "Who's ready for dessert?" and when I said I would need to wait (like, literally, NEED), the suggestion was made to take a walk. HOORAY! I found my spirits lifting at the thought of the fresh air, the exercise, and the scenery of this neat walking path near their house - I've heard all about it and have never tried it out.

A creek runs next to it and it was rushing today - water pouring over and around the rocks, adding a delightful and constant sound to our movement. One of my favorite sounds, making a beautiful Fall day even more gorgeous. 

Max came with us. And I was so happy that our little 14 year-old schnauzer walked 1.65 miles and barely missed a beat (or a tree to pee on). Often, he led the way, trotting along, greeting others who were also out in the beautiful weather.

And as we walked, I felt the few guilty qualms getting further and further away, left behind at the dinner table while we got a bit of exercise. When we returned home, I enjoyed our dessert all the more because it truly felt like a treat.

Confession: I had a leftover turkey sandwich this evening and I had a bit more dessert. But it's all OK because I'm still feeling good about the choices I made today. I've reached one of my favorite food holidays for the first time as a diabetic, and I've made it through.

Gobble, gobble!

I did it! I did it!

What a roller coaster the last almost-week has been! Last Wednesday, I woke up with so much back pain, I could hardly move when I tried to get out of bed. Whether I tried to twist or roll or shimmy out of bed, it felt like someone had my lower back in a death grip and they were ripping my muscles to shreds.

Or something.

It was no coincidence to me that this developed a few days before last weekend. Last weekend was full of all sorts of happy events - such as the 5K for which I'd been training and our church's 25th Anniversary Celebration - but these were also events that were stressing. me. out. big. time.

Like I said, no coincidence at all.

I persevered through my long work day on Wednesday, in pain but managing. I have a good chair at work and found that if I limited my movements, my back "grabbed" less. I figured the pain would lessen, eventually. When it got even worse by Thursday morning, I began to get more concerned.

I called a local chiropractor and they made time to see me that day. While waiting to go to that appointment, I got the news that we'd had some vandalism at the church - just in time for our big celebration, some jerk had broken one of our windows. More stress. More back pain. By the time I got in to the chiropractor that afternoon, I could hardly move.

He examined me, putting me through some painful tasks to see what was going on. In conversation with him, I said, "So...I've been training for this 5K that's coming up on Saturday. What do you think I should do?"

He looked at me with great sympathy because he could tell I had high hopes. He also looked at me with a look of: "Really? You can't even walk around my office today, and you want to walk 3.1 miles in two days?"

He advised against the 5K. And, later, as I lay face down on one of their tables with ice packs on my back, I began to cry as the reality of it set in. I was so. very. disappointed. As disappointed as I was, I kept telling myself that it wasn't worth risking further injury. At least I could still go to support my team, I reasoned.

The pain lessened on Friday. I iced my back some more and tried to rest it as much as I could. (This is not easy for someone who's using to picking up whatever she wants or moving things around at will.) I went and picked up our shirts and numbers and was introduced to a whole new cultural experience with that. And I began to have some hope for the 5K...

Sure enough, I woke up on Saturday morning, ready to go. My adrenaline was pumping, and I was doubly pumped by the cool weather that had moved in overnight. By 7:30 on Saturday morning, we were heading out into 60-degree weather - HALLELUJAH! - and I was excited.

Team Go Rev Go!

We drove to Ranger Stadium and I began to collect the team. What a collection we were: hubby, some parishioners, a seminary friend, and a friend from middle school that I hadn't seen in over 20 years (and her hubby). She and I share the loss of our mothers to ovarian cancer.

The crowd was amazing. Teal - the color of ovarian cancer awareness - was everywhere. I went to put up my mom's and my friend's names on the memory wall, and ended up putting them near my friend's picture of her mom. As I turned around after clipping my own names to the wall, I saw her eyes had tears in them, and we held each other and cried.

My loved ones.

And then came the walk. I was aware of my back, aware of needing to be careful, aware of a bit of pain, but mainly, I felt energized. I cranked up my playlist and went for it. And 57 minutes and change later, I crossed the finish line, finishing my longest duration walk with my best pace per mile yet. More importantly, I did it. 

After I finished, I marveled at the line of people coming in behind me. I told one of my team members that I was so certain I was close to the end. She looked at me, incredulous, pointing to the stream of folks still coming across the finish. "Yes, I know," I said, "But in gym class, I got used to coming in last."

"You're not coming in last anymore," was her response. And she was right. Not that the event was about winning, because it really wasn't. But there was something important to realizing that I wasn't going to let the kid who always - ALWAYS - finished last in gym class follow me around anymore. Sorry, kid - you've slowed me down for too long.

So, now what?

I'm eyeing other 5Ks, I'm happy to say, and so are other members of my team. This might actually turn into a way that our church engages the community, and a way for us to encourage one another in some really healthy habits of exercising regularly. Who knows? 

What I do know is this: I DID IT!

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.............

Have you ever eaten so much soup that you feel like you're sloshing all over the place after you eat it?

Yeah - I was there after dinner tonight.

[SLOSH SLOSH SLOSH walk out to the car SLOSH SLOSH drive here, drive there SLOSH SLOSH SLOSH walk in from the car ETC.]

I had already determined before dinner that I was GOING TO WALK TONIGHT DAMMIT. I actually determined that this morning as I was thinking through my day. And so, with that determination, I headed upstairs to tackle at least a mile and a half on the treadmill. It's not my favorite way to walk, the treadmill, but with air quality alerts out the wazoo and itchy, red eyes, I decided that inside was the way to go.

I grabbed our tablet so I could watch some "West Wing" while I walked (and ran!) and, as I started, I realized that each episode (without commercials) is about 40 minutes long...and that walking anywhere close to a 20-minute mile, I could cover two miles easy-peasy. So, that became my new goal.

What I've discovered about myself is that treadmill walking doesn't feed my soul in the same way that walking outside does. It seems more utilitarian, walking on the machine - like something to plow through as fast as possible.

And then, there was the issue of the continued sloshing.

[SLOSH SLOSH SLOSH walk SLOSH SLOSH walk walk SLOSH run run SLOSH SLOSH walk ETC.]

Eventually, the sloshing feeling passed. I got past the point where I felt like I might fall off the treadmill and onto my face, and I pushed myself to get in just over two miles. I felt rather triumphant, actually.

And then, lying on the floor, stretching, I looked up at the underside of a wooden high chair made by my father, and I saw this:

Those are my initials at the top: KEI. Under that is the logo of the kit he used, then the year: 1974. At the bottom are his initials, his mark that he put on everything from books to LP's to the furniture he made: RCI. And he died three years after he made this chair, so the RCI things in my life are quite precious.

I had forgotten. How often do you look underneath your furniture, anyway? And so, I had forgotten that, of course, my dad signed this, as he signed everything. Of course, he left these marks here for me to find years in the future - I guess almost 40 years ago, now. It made me smile to see these marks again - and all the sloshing around on the treadmill tonight, so that I could end up stretching, so that I could see this again - totally worth it.

Much Like a Sausage

Once upon a time, a friend got engaged and asked me to be a bridesmaid. I agreed and, dutifully, went shopping for yet another bridesmaid's dress. 

This was in 2003, and the trend then was for brides to pick one fabric and let their attendants choose the style of their own dress. How innovative, right? How trusting, too. 

Off I went to get measured at the bridal store, about six months before the wedding. For reasons surpassing understanding, the style I chose to wear was a halter top (OK) and a column skirt. Now, really. I thought it looked so cool, and it certainly was different than the A-line and quasi-poufy dresses I'd worn in the 1990's!

Problem 1: When I tried the sample on, it was in a dark color, which - let's face it - is just slimming. 

Problem 2: There were way too many life changes going on in between the measuring and the wedding. Weight gain was inevitable, and I didn't allow for it.

So, to the first problem we go...The actual color of the actual dress I got to wear for the blessed event was not a dark color. It was, in fact, the opposite of a dark color. It was, in fact, LAVENDER. 

Which makes the second problem all the more unfortunate. In between the month I got measured (January) and the month of the wedding (July), I...

• Began planning a wedding of my own.
• Moved across the country to begin seminary.
• Moved away from my new fiancé and my dog, leaving them across the country temporarily.
• But couldn't move into my own place right away, and so I traveled and stayed with family and friends.
• Had some of my belongings lost in said cross-country move.

It was quite the time for me: gut-wrenching, spirit-bending, mind-blowing. Yeah, I gained weight. And so, by the time my friends had their blessed wedding day, the bridesmaid attire made me look like...well, a big lavender sausage.

It was quite hideous.

I could walk, but not gracefully. I couldn't really sit down. Dancing was possible, but I'm fairly certain I looked like a lavender version of that dancing hot dog they show at drive-in movies.

Again, hideous.

So, the other night, I returned to my walking routine. I was in a huge hurry to get out there, trying to beat the onset of dusk, which is coming earlier and earlier now. I have a pretty set collection of things I wear when I walk, but a girl's gotta have some rules. So here are mine:

• Baggy bottoms? Tighter top.
• Tighter bottoms? Baggier top.

Simple, right? Foolproof, you might even think. Except for the evening when I'm in a big hurry and get dressed for my walk without really thinking. The result? A tighter bottom and a tighter top. Worn together. As in, simultaneously. 

I didn't even realize it until I was outside, and by then, there was no way in hell I was going back inside to change. COME ON. 

Problem is, I felt kinda sausagey again. I wasn't physically uncomfortable and the clothes aren't really THAT tight. But it was out of my comfort zone, for sure.

So, here's what I discovered as I walked dressed like a multi-colored bratwurst: GOOD POSTURE HELPS. So, what that means is that, first of all, every woman over the age of 90 has been right all my life. My grandmother. Your grandmother. "Stand up straight," they say, "it just looks better!"

What it also means is that I walked better, too. I began to find more confidence, rather than less. And by the time I reached the main road, my playlist had gotten to Madonna singing about how beautiful she feels when she Vogues. And...I felt a bit beautiful, too.

Grace...

Hubby -n- Me

This past week was all about choices.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Every week is about choices, right? 

Anyway, over the last week, I've made some choices that have meant I haven't walked as much as I probably should have...

I got in a good, though short, walk at the beginning of the week. The middle of the week is where the wheels came off. I really, really wanted to walk on Thursday, but on Thursday, my Hubby came home after being out of town all week for work. 

So, I made the choice that evening to eat a nice, quiet meal with him and then hang out on the couch with him, watching ridiculous TV. I mean, really, really ridiculous programming - but programming that made us laugh and, most importantly, made him happy after a long few days away from home and his wife and his dog. The three of us sat together, collected in the same room, and all was well.

Except...I really, really wanted to walk. I felt kinda twitchy about not walking. As my normal walking hour came and went, it felt strange to be sitting on the couch - just as in the olden days - the days (and weeks, and months, and years) before diabetes and watching every bite and finding more motivation than ever to get off my ass and move around more. It felt strange.

I got out there and walked tonight. I pretty much insisted on it, telling both Hubby and the waiter at dinner that I was going for a walk when we got home. Hubby lovingly got his dessert to go. The waiter wished me well. And we made it home just in time for me to change, get all geared up, and head out for a lovely two-mile walk.

While I walked, I thought about this past week. I thought about the choices I made and that I'd only walked twice this week. I reflected on how strange that felt and then - AHA! Epiphany time! - I realized how wonderful it is that I walked over three and a half miles this week, and - really - that isn't too shabby. Not bad at all for someone who three months ago was still getting her blood sugar sorted out and was really good at sitting on her ass.

And so, I'm not going to get bogged down by my choices this past week. I am, however, going to celebrate every time I walk as some kind of progress - some kind of forward movement - and allow myself the grace to sit on the couch with Hubby from time to time. 

Keeping Up Appearances (Or Not)

One of the prettier things on a walk.

Alright, friends. Exercise is ugly business.

Yesterday, I was leaving our subdivision (via car), and there were these two 20-something young women speed-walking down the sidewalk. They were adorable. Bouncy ponytails, matching outfits, barely breaking a sweat - I bet their legs were even shaved.

So why is it that when I walk, I look like I feel like some sort of porpoise shoved into spandex? (Hey, it used to be a whale, so that's progress!) I bought some cute-colored exercise gear, down to the bright pink socks. I wear slimming black on the bottom. I have a kicky little headband for my hair. 

Tonight was really a winner (so far) for the category of Ugliest Walk. I left home at Prime Gnat Time. That's right - gnats - really thick along my walking route, getting up my nostrils, getting in my eyes, making me wave in front of my face like some sort of royal idiot who failed waving class. I'm really surprised no one driving by waved back to me. 

Also, it was (apparently) Prime Allergy Time. Snot everywhere. Grossness galore. Sorry, shirt! Sorry, everyone driving by watching me wipe my nose!

And I tried out my new armband phone-holder thingie for the first time tonight. I felt like it would make me feel and look really cool. Mainly, it made me very aware of just how much my upper arms sweat when I walk - the damn thing kept sliding down until I tightened it, and then wondered if I'd cut off circulation in my arm (I didn't). 

I came home and made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. OH THE HORROR. Red face. Hair a gnatty mess. Arms also gnatty. Mosquito bites in some unfortunate places. 

This is not an attractive activity.

In spite of all that, I am so very happy tonight - so very proud of myself for pushing through the gnats and inclines and red-facedness because I walked my furthest distance yet this evening. I scheduled it out, I thought ahead about how far I wanted to go and how long it would take, and then I did it. My walk tonight made me feel - more than ever before - as if achieving a 5K is within my grasp. And that is huge for me.

Sometimes, hard work ain't pretty. But still - worth it in the end!

What I've learned so far...

I like learning. Tonight, on my walk, I was reflecting on some of the things I've learned since I started training for the 5K about six weeks ago. Here's what I've learned about...

Approaching storm!

• Commitment - I made a commitment to walk/run in the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition's 5K in September. To go along with that, I've also committed to train for that. Committing to the training means that I commit to exercising on a regular basis - which can sometimes be damn inconvenient. But it's a commitment.
• Risk - Exercise involves risk. There's a risk of injury, or - in my case - risk of a severe drop in blood sugar. There's a risk of being kidnapped (I've watched too many crime dramas!). There's a risk of getting hit by a car. There's a risk of getting rained on (see photo), or stepping in a big pile of dog crap or on a wad of gum. 
• Awareness - And so, to mitigate the risks, I've had to be more aware. I watch my step for all the crazy bumps and dips in the sidewalks. I watch my surroundings carefully while I walk - if a car slows down near me, I don't take my eyes off of it until I see what it's doing. I walk against traffic so I can keep an eye on oncoming cars. It's all part of being smart and being aware.
• Sometimes I'll encounter gross things (and it's OK) - A few weeks ago, I walked past a very dead (that is, decaying) rodent of some kind on the sidewalk. It was pretty nasty - but - OK - just keep on going, sister, and don't dwell on it. I've had bugs fly into my face (and, I'm pretty sure, into my mouth) and divebomb my head. Also nasty - but - OK - just keep on going, sister, maybe after a good shriek.
• Sometimes I'll do gross things (and it's OK) - There's a tremendous amount of snot produced when one is walking. I don't really understand why that is, but it's true. And so because carrying kleenexes when exercising is a bit ridiculous, guess what? I use my shirt sleeve to wipe my nose. IT'S OK. It's going into the laundry anyway, as soon as I get home. 
• Learning new things - I've learned so much about our neighborhood just by walking around it. I've learned new ways to shortcut to our house, where the messy trees are that dump crap all over the sidewalk, and that our dog's vet is almost exactly 3/4 of a mile from our house. I've also learned that the middle part of my walk is the hardest for me, so I need good music there to keep me pushing on.
• The exercise is good for more than just my body - It's so good for my soul, too. Sometimes I pray quite specifically while I walk. Other times, I just soak in the beauty of whatever is around me - someone's garden or a passing stranger's smile or the glow of a sunset. Tonight, during almost my entire walk, there was this gentle rain falling - somewhere between drizzle and outright rainfall. It was so refreshing to my body, but my spirit reveled in it, too - a reminder of God's care for the earth, even during the summer months. 

I'm guessing that everyone learns different things about themselves when they begin a venture like this. I'd love to hear from you - what are some things you've learned when you've stepped out into something new?

In which I finally order a bracelet...

I really thought I wasn't going to order one of these medical alert bracelets. They have really nice ones now - in a huge variety of styles and price points - so my fashion sense wasn't really the issue. I think it was more wanting to avoid such a clear-cut identifier - "HELLO, I HAVE DIABETES!"

And then something happened the other day that changed my mind.

I've already written about the heat we're now facing here in North Texas. So, the other day, we had plans with friends in the evening, so I knew I wouldn't be able to get in my evening walk. I opted for a late morning walk, thinking I'd get it in before the real heat of the day set in. Concerned about hydration, I drank extra water beforehand, and took water along with me. And, off I went, going on a new route to see a new park they're building nearby, knowing it would offer at least some shade.

The new park's entrance is almost exactly a mile away. I made it over there in a good pace, paused to snap a photo, and then turned right around to head home. I made it home in a good pace, too, and I really felt fine the entire time I was walking. Given that it was already so blessed hot and humid, I actually was surprised how good I was feeling.

I came home, stretched, drank more water, took my shower, and then...it happened. What I've been fearing, happened. I could feel my blood sugar level dropping, slipping away, like sand running through my fingers. It was dramatic. Pretty quickly, I was shaking like crazy - to the point where checking my glucose was difficult (huh...THAT'S a problem!). Sure enough, it had fallen into the "danger zone" - so out I went to the fridge to find some juice to chug. 

I sat on the couch, drinking my juice, feeling pretty crappy. I could feel a slight disorientation setting in - I knew where I was, and I knew my name, etc., but it was sort of like everything else I know was out of reach, somehow. 

Hubby came out to the living room, and here's the thing - to him, I was sitting on the couch, drinking juice. He had NO IDEA that I was struggling until I told him. We pretty quickly determined that it was lunch time, and he pretty quickly went to get us some sandwiches from the corner deli. And I sat and drank my juice.

I began to feel better, and even a bit more after I had a meal in me, but it still took a good couple of hours to feel as though my thoughts were back within reach. And even then, I still felt weak - like the wind had been knocked completely out of my sails. I stayed quiet that afternoon and did some reading I needed to do, and by the evening I felt much better.

But I have to say, this frightened me pretty well. Until then, my diabetes hasn't seemed particularly threatening. It's been a hassle and sometimes, a downright pain in the ass. It's completely affected how I view food and beverages, and what I choose to eat and drink. It's expensive, too - the supplies and meds really add up. But I haven't ever felt threatened, until the other day.

I began thinking, "Suppose this had happened on my walk and I wasn't able to use my phone?" I harkened back to the diabetes education nurse telling me I should order a medical alert bracelet. And so I found one I liked (similar to the one above), and ordered it that very day. (Side note: I started that process while I was still struggling to right myself, and could hardly even make the internet GO, let alone pick out a damn bracelet, if that is any indication to my state of mind!) 

I guess it comes down to claiming this new part of myself in yet another way - a way that can maybe save me in the future. I really hope it doesn't come to that, ever. But here is another way that I can take control of things and do something good for myself so that in an emergency, someone can easily tell that "HELLO, I HAVE DIABETES!"

It's About the Relationship

Max Scooter

This is Max Scooter. He's our thirteen-and-a-half year old mini schnauzer. We've been together since he was seven weeks old. I brought him home as a single gal, and - happily - married someone who loves him as much as I do.

Max is showing his age. At age thirteen-and-a-half in human years, he's between 77 and 82 in doggie years, so his little body is slowing down. He still has his schnauzer spunk - he just doesn't hear as well as he used to, or see as well as he once did, so he's less likely to bark at you if you ring the doorbell.

One of the things I determined to do once I started walking regularly was to include Max at least part of the time. Now, I adore this dog. Let's just get that out there. But he always has been and still is horrible at walking. What I mean is - everything taller than him needs a sniff, needs some wee, maybe a dash of poop. 

COME ON, DOG. It's a weed, for goodness' sake. WHY PEE ON A WEED?

There are all sorts of reasons why he does this. He's a male. He hasn't been well-trained to walk and ignore. He's a schnauzer, which is an inherently curious breed. Etc. etc. Whatever the case, I learned long ago that if I'm really wanting good exercise, taking him along isn't such a good plan.

And now, of course, there's the matter of his age. He just can't walk as far as he used to because he just doesn't have the energy. My in-laws took him for a walk recently and my father-in-law (bless him) actually had to CARRY THE DOG part of the way because Max was just plain ole tuckered out.

So, I've decided that sometimes, the exercise is sacrificed for the sake of the relationship. Sometimes, my own walking regimen is less important than the regimen that Max and I share together - a regimen that involves slowing down and even stopping from time to time. And that's OK, because the important thing is that we got out there - together - and saw the sights and sniffed the wind and enjoyed a beautiful North Texas day. We covered almost a mile together: he got to pee on some stuff (I waited) and he came home to eat an ice cube and crash in his favorite spot. 

He's a great dog, today's walk was a great walk, and really - that's what matters.

Patches of Shade

Friends, it is officially hot here in North Texas.

This is only the beginning. We're at June 21st - the beginning of summer meteorologically - and this is only the beginning. Right now, we're hovering right around the 90° mark with a fair amount of humidity, but also nice afternoon breezes. Soon enough, we'll be 10° higher, with more humidity. Soon after that, we'll be 20° higher (a.k.a., "Hell") and the humidity will be...ugh. And the winds will go away. Far, far away.

Why this weather report? Well, here's what I've become in my newly-formed exercising self: an evening walker. I used to exercise in the morning. When I exercised before, I used to drag my butt out of bed, drag myself to the gym, get ready for work at the gym, and then go to work. I felt so damn proud of myself for making all that effort int he morning. Problem is, it didn't stick because I'm not really a morning person. (That's one reason. The other is that I don't really like gyms. I'm more of a coffee shop person in the morning. But I digress...)

So, in this latest charge, I've become an evening walker and I really, really enjoy it. There is something serene about ending my day with the relative serenity of walking and I feel even more proud of myself when I manage to walk off a really poopy day. Turns out exercise is good for body and soul - HUH.

I am blessed that many of my evenings easily allow me to include this exercise. My church folks aren't so much into evening meetings, so those and other evening events are few and far between, and other evening work is usually pretty flexible. (Hallelujah.)

This week, however, we've been hosting our annual Vacation Bible School from 6:30 to 8:45 each evening. It's been a struggle for me, honestly, to figure out meals, let alone exercise. And so while VBS has all been great fun, I have to say that I got to a point this week where I was missing my walks. So, yesterday, I was determined to get in a good walk before VBS. And I did.

Here's the deal: walking at 3pm is much different than 8pm. MUCH. You can be very glad they didn't find me on the side of the road (under the faded sign), lying in a huge pool of my own sweat, because I was truly almost there. (Lesson: hydrate better!) The route I selected - well, I thought it had more shade than it did. I was wrong. Oh well.

Today, undaunted, I struck out again around 3pm. SCREW YOU, SUNSHINE! It felt great - for the first five minutes - and then....UUUUUUGH. I started having visions of being prepared to walk through the desert for miles on end if I needed to... (as if....)

I had decided on more of a neighborhood route than yesterday, chosen on purpose because I knew that a neighborhood would provide more shade. And it eventually did. I found myself walking from patch to patch of shade, relishing the sun when it hit my face and the wind when it blew in my hair. You see, I've never really been much of a hot weather person (even living in Texas almost all my life) - hot weather is for sitting next to or in a pool, not for exercising in, for goodness' sake!

But if I am going to do this - if I'm really going to make this all work for me - I'm going to have to get out there in the daylight sometimes. Yes, we have a treadmill and I use that at times, too. But there is nothing quite like an outdoor walk - nothing like alternating my way along sunny sidewalks and shady patches.

Soon, VBS will be over with and I will reclaim my evening walking time. But I'm really glad I got out there and claimed some of the afternoon sunshine (and shade), too.

"If you see a faded sign by the side of the road..."

I will begin by making my Big Announcement for this week:

I GOT A NEW PHONE!

Like, finally. Like, it's about damn time. 

My old crap phone has been the subject of many discussions and much laughter among my friends, and the subject of some frustration and cussing on my part for the past six months or so. The thing really hardly functioned as a phone, let alone doing anything else these supposedly-smart things are supposed to do.

So, I finally had an upgrade available and so you better believe that I was all over it. With fervor, baby. Send me the iPhone and do it quickly. 

The happiness of owning a phone that actually functions is quite profound. I had forgotten what it was like to have things like Facebook and Twitter actually, you know, work on my phone. I had forgotten what it was like to punch a button on the screen and have the phone call actually, you know, end. Craziness, I tell you.

Imagine my joy at being able to load apps onto the phone that don't make it freeze up or make the battery fizzle out. Imagine my joy at thinking of ways to integrate this new little thing into my life, my routines, my ministry, and - now - even my workouts. SUCH GREAT REJOICING.

I ended up settling on an app that lets me program in different routes and then helps me follow them (remember - still learning my way around some of these places!). Using the computer, I quickly created six or seven different routes based on distances, and when I checked my phone - there they were! When I want to go for a walk/run, I hit "START," a voice confirms that I'm starting, my MOVE! playlist starts, and off I go!

I tried it for the first time tonight. I've had a long day. I mean - long. Fabulous and filled with stuff I loved, but long. How fantastic to be driving home, thinking, "Oh, good! I'll be home in time for a good walk around the neighborhood!" What a change from, "Oh, good! I'll be home in time for...[insert TV re-runs here]!" And because the phone still has that novelty thing going for it, I was excited to try out this new app along with my walk.

The playlist was also a new one for me: newly-set-up this week, not broken in yet at all. I had found lots of good, upbeat music for my playlist and it did, in fact, propel me. 

Until...ugh...I hit a point...

It's hot. It's humid. My leg is starting to tighten up. The mosquitoes are biting. Ugh.

I kept going. And at one point, when I thought I might just fall over, a new song started, a song that instantly made me smile because it took me so. far. back. Like - to LP's, my friends. Because, I did, indeed, at one point, have a long-play record of the B-52's singing "Love Shack."

The song is really quite hilarious. It makes sense and doesn't all at the same time. And there I was, walking along through suburbia, trying not to sing at the top of my lungs, smiling like some crazy person because I remember so many times of belting this song out at the top of my lungs in my room. At school dances. Later, at wedding receptions of friends. 

It lifted me. It seems silly, I realize, to say that about any song from the 1980's. But that song was followed by "Money for Nothing" by the Dire Straits, and I flashed even further back, to the genesis of MTV, the beginning of cable television. And those memories took me all the way home, to my back porch, where I stretched a bit before heading inside.

That's what I'm learning in all this, I guess. Motivation comes from one place, but also a thousand places. It comes from inside, but also a thousand outside places. It comes from my own spirit, pushing me forward, but also from great music, fun memories, supportive friends and family, a helpful phone, and a thousand other places. 

"If you see a faded sign by the side of the road," there I'll be, walking past it, trying not to sing "Love Shack" at the top of my lungs. And smiling like a crazy person.

Momentum

A body in motion tends to stay in motion; a body at rest tends to stay at rest...right?

I guess I'm getting more accustomed to motion. It's been several days since I've walked, and I was starting to get a bit panicked about that tonight. I felt like momentum was trying to slip away from me (or maybe it was walking away?) and so I was bound and determined NOT to let it get away!

We were out running some errands tonight and got dinner out, too. I was dismayed to lose the daylight hours, because I was really in the mood to walk the neighborhood, but didn't really want to after dark. Fortunately for my momentum, we have a treadmill! We came home, I asked Hubby to take care of feeding the dog, I changed my clothes and shoes, and went upstairs for 36 minutes and 1.53 miles plus stretching.

It felt great!

I came downstairs and needed to make a pronouncement. This is what Hubbies are for, right? Pronouncing things to? I set it up just right..."Honey, I need to tell you something and I need you to realize that it might not be a big thing for you, but for me, it is..."And he stopped and waited...

"I jogged for a full minute and a half," I announced.

That didn't garner any real joyful enthusiasm from him, but before he said anything, he looked at my face. He saw that I was serious. And then he offered his words of loving support.

You really have to love and support people where they're at. Tonight, I jogged a full minute and a half. The part I haven't said yet is that first, I wanted to stop after a minute, but I didn't. I kept going that extra thirty seconds. The second thing is that I really do think that's the longest I've ever run in my life at one time. MAYBE in middle school I ran for that long, but I doubt it. And tonight, I did it.

It felt great!

And so, momentum, you are my friend right now. You are helping me move and I am grateful.

Doing a new thing

Last week, I got myself back onto the treadmill and outside, walking again. No pun intended - but I started taking more steps in taking better care of myself both in terms of exercise but also mental health and even spiritual health (when I pray as I walk). It felt good to get moving in light of the emotional week I was having last week.

On the treadmill, I pushed myself more than usual. I let the machine raise and lower the incline and I really worked. At one point, on one of the flatter portions, I even ran. Not much or for very long, but I ran.

And that's the new thing.

Some people run. I don't get it - I really don't. They love it. They are devoted to it, the way I used to be devoted to eating a bowl of ice cream or some lovely sushi with tempura-fried shrimp on top. I have never understood running, and so I was surprised, last week, to find myself actually running.

I started thinking about my history with running and - OUCH! - wow, did that ever hit a painful nerve. I remembered what I felt like in gym class in middle school (yes, the memories run deep) - I was the overweight one, the slow one, the one for whom running was challenging, the one who didn't even know how to run. I envied kids for whom running came naturally. I plodded along - with not one encouraging voice around me (or so it seemed).

If you think these things don't make a big difference in someone's life - you're wrong.

In high school, I was in marching band, so I marched, I didn't run. Because I didn't have to run, I didn't. I had to run every so often in P.E. in college, but it was always combined with lots of walking and huffing and puffing and an overall presentation of misery - so I didn't run much.

I'm not sure what clicked in me exactly last week that got me punching up the speed on the treadmill, taking a short run. But I did it, and I didn't die, I didn't fall over, and I didn't even have to stop  altogether. I ran as long as I thought I could, and then a bit past that point, and then I went back to walking.

So, with all the emotion of last week of losing another person to ovarian cancer (my mom also died of it - and there have been others I've known), I started thinking about an idea I'd had years ago. I live in a pretty big metropolitan area, and I figured - there must be SOME kind of 5K or something for ovarian cancer awareness.

And I found this: the National Ovarian Cancer Coalition Run Walk 5K, which in our area, is held in September.

"September?" I thought. "Well, it's only June! I can be ready by September, surely...!"

I've never done anything like this before in my life. Ever. But - I'm going to do it!

I find that I am really, really excited to try this particular new thing. I'm also nervous. But I already have several folks cheering me on - including Hubby and some good friends. I already have people saying, "Yes - I want to do that with you!" And I've already started taking some steps to get ready. I'm not sure how much I'll run and how much I'll walk - but that doesn't really matter. What matters is doing it.

I will keep you posted!