Plans

This evening I decided that I needed to STFU with my birthday whining and just make it special for ME, so I bought a plane ticket to New York. A relatively spontaneous act + an awesome city + a very special friend seems like a perfect way to ring in my third decade of life. I cannot wait to celebrate like it's 2005 and we still look like this:

More big news: today I ran and walked 8 miles. It was so cool the finish the sixth mile and realize that every single step was a personal distance record. By the end I was totally spent but it was so worth it. I remember when running 90 seconds was hard. It wasn't so long ago. Finisher face:

Another reason why my friends are hilarious and keep me going in life...moments after yesterday's post went up, I got this special text from Shanna, who never fails to crack me up and always knows which buttons to push:

I just feel great today. I just feel great. 

Lazy days and loving myself

Today I had a lazy day off. I didn't necessarily plan it that way- it was more of a bi-product of an extended sushi and wine date with my girlfriends last night. Blame it on my healthier lifestyle, my decreasing body weight, or my advancing age- I cannot put away a bottle of wine like I used to and I was feeling the effects this morning. I slept as late as I felt like sleeping and then once I finally got out of my pj's around 1 p.m., I headed to the trail for a brisk three miles. I like running that same trail a couple times a week because I can see progress in how long it takes me from start to finish- today was my best time yet, even with a hangover!

I also ran some errands, namely picking up some deodorant because I was fresh out - I ran without it! If you've known me for any length of time you know that I am a bit of a sweater and somehow my armpit sweat resists most deodorant- like, even if the antiperspirant properties work, what little sweat is produced still smells. Gross, right? I know. Thankfully, it was cold and windy enough that there wasn't much sweating and it evaporated immediately. The bad news, though, is that the one deodorant that I've repeat-bought for the last several months because somehow it totally agrees with my body chemistry doesn't exist at Target anymore and maybe doesn't exist at all. Dammit. So I'm trying a new one and I'm nervous. 

I spent a few more hours just dicking around, catching up on blog reading, showering and applying aforementioned deodorant, etc. This evening I tried yoga with a new instructor even though it's no secret that I have a giant man-crush on the instructor whose class I usually go to. This class was awesome though- it was a basics class and there were alot of true beginners there who inspired me with their bravery. The teacher was very gentle but also encouraging, and I liked her style alot, plus she played an eclectic mix of music that made me smile. I'm a big believer in smiling occasionally while you exercise, even if you have to make yourself do it. It gives you a burst of energy, I promise. Try it. 

When I got home I got to thinking how funny it is that my "lazy day off" involved not one but two forms of exercise. I used to struggle with what the hell to do with myself on my days off, and I suffered a fair bit of guilt over usually doing nothing at all. I might spend an entire day and reading blogs on the couch, eating snacks, maybe some light shopping or a movie (with popcorn!) if I needed to get out of the house. I'm not saying I don't still spend plenty of QT with the couch or that I'll never eat movie popcorn again, but I'm so pleased that I seem to have finally made an enjoyable routine out of exercise. Yes, I still struggle with getting out the door, but re-discovering two activities I once loved- running and yoga- has brought so much pleasure and satisfaction to my leisure time. I'm thankful that I have the leisure time to pursue this stuff, and to really work on me. 

I did some reflecting about the concept of "me-time" today, sparked by a conversation I had with my friends last night (well, one of them- the other one was exhausted from too much work and too much wine and snoozed on my couch while we talked until 1 in the morning). I was talking about feeling frustrated that I just haven't really met any single men around here, the same old song and dance about why aren't there any good men out there, etc. My friend told me that if I felt that way, I needed to "put myself out there," the same old song and dance about internet dating, trying new activities, joining a sports league, etc etc. The things that people in relationships tell you to do, the conversation that usually includes the phrase "it happens when you least expect it." Kill me. I never want to hear that phrase again (though my friend, to her credit, didn't say it). Anyway, I found myself getting defensive, and telling her that I don't want to join a kickball team or a club or sign up for eharmony. I just don't want to, and I don't want to have to, and I just want someone to notice me and appreciate me and love me for the independent and self-sufficient person that I am. And she basically told me that I was being ridiculous because if I really wanted a relationship I would be willing to go out of my way to find one and then change my own life to make it work. And I was offended. Bend over backwards to find a man and then change my life for him? No. That's crazy. I'm more modern than that. I like my life the way it is. And my friend, and this is why I love her, told me that if I wasn't willing to do that then I probably didn't actually want to be in a relationship and wasn't ready for it anyway,  and I should stop whining about it and just live my life. 

She is so right. 

Yes, of course I want to feel appreciated and loved and validated. I want to feel that I'm attractive to strangers and potential partners, like someone could just organically see something in me that's worth falling in love with. I haven't felt that way in so long. But the thing is that everyone wants that- married, single, gay, straight, old, young. It doesn't make me special or romantic or needy or pathetic. It just makes me human. And it doesn't preclude me from doing the things that do make me worthy of love and validation, the things that I enjoy and that make me feel (and look!) attractive to myself and to men. And if I'm not at a point where I want to join an f'ing kickball team to meet some duders, that is OK! It doesn't mean I'm not trying hard enough. It just means I'm enjoying my life the way it is, and I have other priorities- namely, ME. 

Sunday night, minus the angst

After Friday evening's post about my sads, I went to bed early and tried to shake it off.

Yesterday I went to yoga, as usual on a Saturday, and the instructor asked me if I had any requests for the class. I said, "anything that will distract me from the outside world." He asked what was up and I told him that I had been contemplating my very mixed feelings about turning 30. What struck me most was that almost before I could get the words "I'm turning 30" out of my mouth, he cut me off with a huge "Congratulations!" I loved that he reacted as though this were a victory and not something to dread. He told me that in his work with the elderly, he has asked them what age they'd like to revisit. "They never say '29,'" he told me. When class started, I focused on my usual intention ("be brave") but it had a different meaning this time. Bravely facing a new decade. Bravely stepping out of my 20's. Bravely admitting that most of my 20's were not actually the best. After class, a woman I hadn't realized was listening to my conversation with the instructor sought me out. "You're going to love your 30's," she said. "I'm two years in, and it just gets better and better. You're going to love it." And then I got in my car and cried a little, not out of fear or sadness, but because these people were so kind to reassure a total stranger, and because I believed them! My 30's are going to be the best, bravest years yet. When I think about the progress I have made from just one year ago, I can only believe it's going to be an upswing from this point forward. It's such a total relief to feel my energy shift from negative to positive on this.

Unfortunately, a miscommunication with friends meant that my plans for Saturday evening were not what I intended, which was disappointing. But I probably needed a day to be a little bit still, and take it moment by moment. I met my sister and her husband and boys for a few beers at one of Durham's institutions, Fullsteam Brewery, which is sort of a bar/town square/meeting place for all sorts of people and activities. It was a warm and breezy day and all the doors were open, and we had a nice time catching up and tasting pretty much every beer. At the end of the day, I realized it had turned out to be what I might have listed as my ideal day: weight watchers meeting, coffee, a bit of shopping, yoga, beers with people I love, two (2!) meals from Whole Foods hot bar, and a good movie (please see this with an open mind). I went to bed without setting an alarm. A perfect day.

Today, St Patrick's day, is always a bit of a day of reflection for me. It's hard to believe it's been five years since my crazy old grandma died, an event which affected me greatly and set alot of positive things into motion for me. She and I had a complicated relationship, but I hope she'd be proud of me today, even though the only three things she ever wanted for me were a clear complexion, and slim physique, and a good man. I'm working on it, Grandma, I promise.

Sads

I just have a bad case of the sads tonight. Nothing is wrong that I can quantify- I actually had a great week at work, overtime and all. I haven't given last week's wait-list shocker much thought at all. I've kept on track with my eating for the most part. I even had a fun weeknight dinner out with friends last night. All in all, things are moving right along. One of my supervisors even forwarded me an email with some totally unsolicited and super positive feedback from a coworker. Life is pretty good, friends.

But still I feel a little sad. Is it because my 30th birthday is looming? I really, really don't want to be a girl who freaks out over turning 30. I've always had a pretty healthy view on aging, I think. When I really whittle it down, it's not turning 30 that makes my chest hurt- it's thinking about how I'll celebrate. I put so much pressure on birthdays to make me feel special and I can never seem to capture the feeling I'm looking for. Isn't that so silly? Even sillier: I never really celebrated my 21st birthday, and I still regret it a little.

I'm not trying to whine. Not at all. I want to choose to celebrate this milestone because I want to choose not to mope about it. I think that's what's putting pressure on the situation. And then I still feel mopey. Am I normal? I don't know. I don't have answers. I only have feelings.

The interesting this is that when I was working through these things this week, all I wanted was to have the time to get on the treadmill or on the yoga mat. Working overtime this week meant I only had one day for workout out and I missed it. I actually missed it. That's major progress.

On the weight loss agenda: weigh in in the morning, followed by yoga. It's supposed to be an absolutely beautiful spring day so maybe I'll squeeze in a walk or easy jog? I think I need it to clear my head.

Weekend in review

This was a weekend full of highs and lows. Last week I had an excellent week at work- let's just say I was a total hit with managers and coworkers alike, and I suddenly remembered why I love doing this job. I was just getting ready to wrap up my week on Friday evening and head over to a friend's house for some wine when I got an email informing me that I had been placed on the waitlist for the master's program I applied to. This was a huge shock, considering I'd been admitted to the same program once before- I declined because I wasn't emotionally or professionally ready to begin, and I had more important life work to do (though I didn't know that part until later). Instead of allowing me to defer my admission, I was required to re-apply for this year, but I honestly still thought it was in the bag. I guess I was wrong. Yes, I may still be admitted and all is not lost, but it was such a blow to my ego. With my 30th birthday looming, I feel like I just don't have any wiggle room in terms of the timing of my plans, and it's so disappointing to suddenly realize that your perfect plan isn't necessarily in your control anymore.

I was so glad I had already decided to stop by my friend Kaitlyn's house on my way home because I needed some girl time and some distraction. She happened to be in the midst of baking a beautiful cake for a wedding, so I helped her a tiny bit in the kitchen but mostly watched and chatted and ate delicious cake trimmings. As you can see, she's incredibly talented.

The company and the white noise from the KitchenAid were soothing, but I still felt so bummed. Still, I have to give myself credit- what I really wanted to do was buy myself a bunch of stuff at Target and then eat my feelings while conducting a review of my purchases. I didn't do that. That was a victory.

More victory on Saturday morning when my weigh-in was a big fat -3.4 lbs, bringing my grand total to  -31.4 lbs on Weight Watchers and -38.6 lbs total. This is a huge thing to be proud of, and I am. I marched myself right over to Kohl's, where I bought a couple of new workout tops as a little pick-me-up, and then to yoga. I felt great while I was on the mat, and made some more big strides towards headstand...but then when I got back out in the daylight, I had a hard time keeping the "om," and I just felt angsty all over again. A beer with friends helped a little, but I woke up this morning still feeling pretty disillusioned. At this point I  had to question myself- was I still upset about the waitlist situation? Was it more than that? Was it nothing? I couldn't even tell. I couldn't get out of my own way.

So I was not in a very good headspace for the 6-mile run/walk that was on the schedule today. Furthermore, I had decided today was the day to take my show on the road- literally run outside. I was going to do two laps on a hilly three-mile loop. The first lap was tough, I probably didn't pace myself well and I wasn't used to the hills. It was my first time running outside in years, I rationalized, and the longest distance I had run ever, and I shouldn't expect myself to make so many big jumps in one day, etc, and so I was all set to give myself a pass and just...well, let's call it what it is...QUIT. But then I didn't. I just kept going. And I finished. When it was all said and done, I was a little disappointed that I didn't manage all the intervals- I had to walk through some of them. But I finished.

What I really wanted after all of that was a shamrock shake, but then I thought back to the last time I had one. A time in my life when I would order milkshakes with abandon for no real reason- like, say, to keep me company in Wal-mart. And I remembered that at that time in my life, I looked like this:

So instead I had a tiny portion of frozen yogurt with crushed pretzels and a tiny drizzle of peanut butter topping and hot fudge  (you know it was tiny if it only cost $2.50 at the by-the-ounce place). 

Still not a healthy treat, but I felt much more in control than I would have with a 560 calorie cup of minty HFCS and a straw.

I did feel a little more relaxed after my victorious workout and my little treat. I'm still a little bit angsty but I think it's just the normal Sunday night kind. A bit of cruel irony is that I signed up for overtime this week and next week so that I could pay the deposit when I was admitted to the master's program- so now I have two grueling weeks coming up with no purpose- or at least, their purpose is in limbo for the moment.

At the end of a emotional few days, more than anything I am thankful for my family and my friends, the people who love me and encourage me and hold me up, no matter what kind of significant or insignificant shit I'm going through. My favorite mantra, "be brave," has been more useful than ever this weekend- standing on my head, completing that second lap, looking into the future towards 30 with no concrete idea what's next. The people who love me and big dose of bravery are all I have to get me through, and you know what? It's enough.

Sanctuaries. And my haircut.

I was so disappointed when I left the salon today. She did alllll these layers around my face and I totally felt like I had The Rachel, circa 1996. You know, picture this one, but with side bangs:

But I took some pictures of myself and worked it out. The one of me smiling is because I realized it wasn't The Rachel, and it really just looks like my hair always did, but without the fried ends. 

I went to a yoga class this evening with my favorite teacher, but at a location I'd never been to before. When I walked in, I was disappointed- there were spin bikes all pushed up against the front wall and a big TRX frame right in the center of the room, forcing me to put my mat right between a steel beam and a row of kettlebells. It was drafty rather than warm and toasty. Not very zen. I resigned myself to a less than stellar class and figured I just wouldn't come to this location anymore.

The Universe, as usual, proved me wrong. We spent extra time in "upside-down" poses, which are usually pretty uncomfortable for me. I read somewhere a long time ago that if certain yoga poses, like inversions or backbends, are difficult or uncomfortable it's because they are opening areas that store difficult emotions for you as an individual. I like to think that's true. I don't know what I store that's released when I'm upside down, but there's something about it that makes me a little fight-or-flighty. But tonight I made huge progress in plow and crow and even worked a little further towards headstand. I felt very brave. At the end, the teacher read my mind and summed it up perfectly: "it's not pretty green grass that makes a sanctuary, it's the state of your mind." I was sure that I was going to fail because I didn't like the room I was practicing in, but once I was able to focus and quiet my mind, that drafty room became a sanctuary. I'm going to try to take that lesson with me through the rest of my workweek. 

Oh, and P.S.: After my run this morning, I saw a RIDICULOUS number on the scale. So close to being under 200. I'm excited. 

Weekend news

So for starters, my weigh in on Saturday was NOT good news. I stayed the same. No loss, no gain. It could be worse, I know. On my sister's advice, I re-read my blog entry from Friday about how confident I was that if my weight didn't change it was for some silly reason. The reason was this:

Sushi dinner with a friend on Friday night. The cruel irony was that I rarely use soy sauce, but for some reason it just sounded so good that time...I tried to keep it to a minimum but after the sodium + wine bolus, there was no hope for the scale. I shook it off. Better luck next time. 

I spent the rest of the weekend with my family. I feel like I've gotten to spend a ton of time with my parents this winter and I'm super thankful for that. I know they really come just to see the grandsons, but I'm glad I get to be a part of it too. :) 

Tomorrow is a day off and I have big plans. A run, a yoga class, clean up my mother f'n pigsty of a bedroom, aaaaaand get a haircut. Right now I have this super weird long mop that hasn't been cut since October [real time photo taken just this minute]:

I'm hoping I can keep the length, lose the split ends, and maybe come away with an actual style...too much to ask, do you think? After pictures tomorrow...

Legit chest sweat

I haven't done much today besides knock out 4 miles on the treadmill. I guess I better come clean about how ridiculously slow I am: running and walking, my pace averaged about 13:30. I'm not ashamed of that. I'm just starting out, I'm still carrying alot of extra bodyweight, and running is hard. A mile's a mile. Slow is the new fast. Etc. When I was done, I had some crazy chest sweat:

The chest sweat made me feel LEGIT until it occurred to be that maybe it's gross and I should feel embarrassed? 

This picture is a good example of something I'm noticing lately. When I was at my heaviest, it's striking in pictures how much smaller my eyes and smile looked, because my cheeks and chins were crowding my features. One of my weight loss turning points was realizing that not even my face was pretty anymore. That was when I started hiding from cameras. It's why there are almost no pictures of me on facebook, not even just my face, from the year 2012. But now my face is starting to look proportional again. I used to joke that the reason I don't have any wrinkles is because I have a layer of subcutaneous fat. Sometimes I wonder if I'll start to age when my face starts to thin down. But then I remember I'd rather be wrinkled than fat. 

I'm weighing in tomorrow and there's no reason it shouldn't be good news, unless my hard workouts and sore muscles this week cause me to retain a little water. Either way I won't be upset because I know I've done great this week and if I go up or stay the same, it'll just be for some silly reason. If I keep doing what I'm supposed to be doing, it will all come out right in the end.