It's Not the Clouds' Fault

I’m in a weird, vaguely low place today.  There are a zillion things I could blame it on, like the fact that we are entering week 2 of a cloud fest that has been getting depressing, or that it is no longer light out before I have to get out of bed, which is even more depressing, but those things, while they enhance a dreary mood, are by no means the culprit.  I am.  If nothing else, by blogging over these last couple of years about wanting to lose weight and get healthy, and by starting, stopping, falling off, and returning, repeatedly, I at least have learned this.  There is absolutely nothing and no one who stands in my way but myself.  There is no such thing as being too old, it being too hard, having no time, or it being a  bad time.  I have proven to myself both previously and recently that regular exercising, which inevitably results in feeling good and losing a couple of pounds (enough to at least start loosening up the clothes, anyway), and which in turn then makes me feel more in control of my eating and less inclined to stuff my face with sugar, is enough to really lift me.  Just that little bit makes me feel more energetic, makes the daily grind feel like less of a grind, and makes accepting the faults of loved ones and the pitfalls of life’s responsibilities feel perfectly doable.  Inertia is an intense and powerful enemy, and it is soooooo difficult to start and infinitely easier to stop, but in this moment of feeling cruddy I can certainly recognize how short the hurdles really are.  It would not be so tough to just put one foot in front of the other, build to a slow jog, and eek over first one, then another, then another, until I am cruising like Gail Devers.  Screw you, clouds and darkness.  This is my mission.

The Biggest Loser is Back!

I adore the Biggest Loser.  It kills me when it is not on over the summer, and I am grateful that it has returned this week.  It is simply the most inspiring thing out there when it comes to weight loss motivation.  Now, unfortunately, thus far I am and have remained one of those people that sits on my butt watching it, feeling inspired on the inside, but not doing anything about my own achievement needs on the outside.  Season after season I've told myself "I'm going to lose weight while they do", and yet each season as the finale approaches I watch the girls get skinny and awesome and I stay the same.

I do believe that anyone can do it, I really do.  I also believe that it is technically possible to do it at home, at a more human pace, while juggling a real life.  **However. ** I also believe that most or all of those contestants were primarily able to find this success because of the catalyst of starting on the show, and being forced to get it going, thereby feeling good about the early success and having something to build on.  THAT is where I struggle.  Fortunately, I am not nearly big enough to be on the show, although I do have a significant amount of weight to lose.  But if there was ever any way to actually take a piece of time out of my regular life to start the focus and introspection process, and to have a beloved Bob or Jillian give me a ferocious workout that would make me feel strong and proud of myself and help give me the drive to get that giant ball rolling and keep it rolling, it would be a dream come true.

Attack of the Sundays!

Sometimes, no matter HOW GREAT of a weekend you've had, Sunday night sucks.  Even when there's a football game on.  Fun things are what we live for, but they also make the weekends go faster.  Then when you finally sit down to relax on Sunday night, all you can think about is that you don't want it to be Monday yet.  Blech.

Musings on September 11

(photo courtesy of freefoto.com)

I can't believe it was 10 years ago.

On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was driving in my car, on the way to a meeting, and I was listening to talk radio to pass the time.  (Mindless, tasteless, and hilariously funny radio, specifically: the Howard Stern Show.  Now wait!  Before you pass judgement, if you are inclined to do so, please don't.  Whether you find him horrible, insulting, or just crass, don't let that cloud the story.)  So I'm driving from my office in Fairfax to my meeting in Alexandria when they stop joking around and start talking very seriously about what is developing on the news at the World Trade Center.   I heard and saw the whole thing through their eyes and descriptions, and it was gut wrenching, especially as it continued to worsen.

Then when it was announced that the Pentagon had been attacked also, I felt the wind whoosh right out of me and I had to pull over.  My Dad worked at the Pentagon.  It only took me about a split second to think through and process the fact that he was out of town on a trip and not in the building that day, but the emotional torrent brought on by even having to go through that split second thought process is something I'll never forget, ever.  I called my husband and asked if he had heard what happened and said how grateful I was that Dad wasn't there and we were both crying into the phone.  From the direction my car was facing on the side of the road I could see a huge plume of billowing smoke from the direction of the Pentagon.  What a sickening sight.

Next the fear kicked up.  No way I was going to keep driving toward all that going on, nor was I going to sit through some mundane meeting when I was such an emotional and frightened wreck, so I called to cancel the meeting and turned around to head home.  Most people were told to stay put wherever they were, so traffic wasn't too much of an issue.  But as I was headed back toward home, which was in the direction of one of the airports,  there were reports that while they were working on grounding all aircraft, there were still one or two unaccounted for planes they were concerned about in the area of that airport.  I still couldn't fight the overpowering homing instinct, and I made it home safely.  Where I then proceeded to watch the news and see replay of what was described to me on the radio over and over for the whole mind numbing rest of the day and night.

I don't remember how long it was before we stopped fearing further attack, it was at least through the next day.  But what I do remember very clearly is the haze of depression that followed.  That next morning, my husband went out and bought every different newspaper he could find because even though we already had most of the information, the headlines and photos were so shocking to see in print.  We still have them in a box today.  (Maybe when our son is a little older we'll take them out and pore through them with him and explain things a little deeper than we will this weekend, but he's just 6 now, it's too soon.)  Through that first weekend afterward I kept thinking how awful it would be if you had anything happy planned for that weekend, particularly a wedding.  I also kept thinking how grateful I was not to have a child yet and not to be ready for one yet, because I felt it was such a terrible world right then to bring a new innocent life into.  It took a while to shake off those feelings.  The only silver lining of that aftermath was how filled with pride, unity, determination, and patriotism the country shared in the months that followed.

I never did drive by the Pentagon during the time the flag was hung on it and it was under repair.  Something about actually seeing it in person just didn't work for me, I never really wanted to.  I have since been on a tour of it for my Mom's retirement ceremonies which did include the 9/11 Memorial, so I'm very glad I had that opportunity.  My Dad is also now retired and working in the private sector.  I've only been to New York once as an adult, just a couple of years ago, but we didn't have enough time to visit Ground Zero.  I want very much to see that memorial someday now that it is completed, I think it's an important thing to go absorb.  Lastly, I was and still am filled with the most intense awe, respect, and deep gratitude for the folks who acted on Flight 93.  I can't get over how amazing it is that they took matters into their own hands, and I'd like very much to pay respects to them in person one day, too.

It is still humbling to me to this day when I think about how brave and selfless people can be, be they innocent civilians who stood their ground to protect their fellow countrymen, noble first responders who ran into burning and perilous buildings, strangers trying to help one another in a time of crisis, and people put on the front line of the wars which have followed.  Every tribute I see this weekend is probably going to make me cry, and I have a lump in my throat just thinking about telling my kid in the mildest possible way about the awful things that happened and why people are still thinking about it a lot 10 years later.  That period in time will always leave an emotional scar, and I was lucky enough not to lose anyone.

I'm Going the WRONG Way!

(photo courtesy of freefoto.com)

I have taken a wrong turn.

Don't get me wrong, I FEEL good lately, I am happy.  I am looking forward to the coming of fall, football, and all that.  I have been working out on a quasi-regular schedule, and it feels good.  But for some reason that I can't quite pinpoint (or that I'm not trying to is more like it), I'm eating more/worse.  The chocoholism has amped up quite a bit.  As such, the weight situation is going ever so slightly the wrong direction.  Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!! Abort, Abort!

I Survived a Hurriquake and the First Day of School-

It's true, this has been a busy week.  This past Tuesday I experienced my first earthquake.  EVER.  And let me tell you, this east coast girl was most definitely NOT amused when my 8th floor office (in a 10 story building) started rocking.  First it sounded like a freight train of wind was coming toward the building, but it was lovely and still and sunny outside.  Then when me and a handful of my coworkers had the sense to move away from the windows, we just stood there, staring at each other, first reassuring each other that yes, we believed this was definitely an earthquake (as opposed to a construction accident or a terrorist attack), and then realizing we didn't have a damn clue what the safest move was.  No sooner had we caught our breaths (is the building still shaking, or is that just ME shaking?) than we were told to get the hell outside by the building maintenance crew because who knows if the building will still stand up after all that anyway?  We sure don't design buildings for those events here...

Next came Irene.  Now we have been known to dabble in a hurricane in these parts on occasion, but it's not usually too big a threat other than high winds and heavy rain.  This time the predictions were a lot more apocalyptic, however, and we had plenty of time to think about it and be over-prepared.  Stocked up on water, wine, canned food, and junky snacks.  Knew where the flashlights were.  Charged the phones, gassed the cars, got some cash.  Even moved our social plans around to be lunchtime instead of evening.  AND I GOT MY WORKOUT IN.  :)  There were some trees behind our house that gave me a good scare around 4 in the morning in the most fierce of the wind, but they held on.  Good prep = no need, you can all thank me for that later.  I know there were places north and south of this area that got beat up pretty badly, but we were largely spared.  The fate of my parents' beach house is TBD, however, so keep your fingers crossed for us.

This morning was a really big one for me, a milestone that I've thought about for a long time coming, and that is my sweet boy's first foray into public school for first grade.  My angel boarded a yellow bus this morning, with a smile on his face, and I hate to wait and fret all day to see how it turned out.  The result?  He was all smiles and it seemed to be a good experience.  He even kept track of both his lunchbox AND his backpack.  Win.

Life is a Treadmill

Sometimes, life is a treadmill, whether you're on one or not.  Ironically, when I'm actually ON the treadmill is one of the times I get a mental break from that sensation.  Today, a fairly average weekend day, went as follows:  wake up early, volunteer at a triathlon (insert any personal activity here, though), come back, breakfast with family, take kid school shopping (insert any domestic errands here), come back, make/eat lunch, help assemble and play with the boy's new toy, dishes, laundry, watch part of a movie until the kid gets bored and restless, more playing, more laundry, realize there are other errands that still need doing but have to wait 'til hubby returns from his day, we will have family dinner together, I have a hockey game tonight.  And tomorrow, it's back to the usual weekdays treadmill of getting up, getting ready for school/work, driving to school, driving to work, working all day, driving back to school, driving home, scrambling to fix dinner, driving to/watching tae kwon do class, then we'll come back, do the bedtime routine, collapse in a heap.  Rinse, and repeat.  This is why suburban working moms are so tired all the time...

Not that I don't love the various components of my life, and not that I'm not starting to figure out how to fit a little bit of exercise into all this, which is already starting to give me more energy.  Actually, I'm just trying to give myself a little credit here.  Living my daily life is no small feat.  But I wouldn't have it any other way, unless of course I won the lottery and could cut out the working part...