The 29th Day

I was so revved up about the 30/30 plan a month ago.

And then January hit me. 

Like a ton of bricks.

Or books. Really, it's books.

I've hit the books. Big time.

I feel guilty when I'm not studying. Like I shouldn't be blogging. Or exercising. Or eating, sleeping, showering, working, or managing to (barely) hold the remnants of my life together.

And so I haven't posted.

I haven't told you about the way I count the laps in the hall at the hospital, or take the long way, just for more exercise. And I haven't told you about the most fun thing: ice skating. 

Coach Cheerleader and I bought cheap passes. we convinced (she did, really) a great guy, D, from boot camp to join us. We went last Friday, full on margaritas and tacos. D has passed the half century mark, so when he pulled out his ice skates, I cocked my head to the side, thinking how amazing it is to interpret age. He flew around the rink as though he skated every day, though he claimed it had been many years. 

Coach Cheerleader and I stared in amazement as we clumsily pushed our way around the rink.

I remember the first year my brother came down from Boston with roller blades "so he could practice skating in the summer", instead of gamely slapping the tennis ball against the side of the house with his hockey stick. I remember him showing me, in a rare moment that I allowed him to show me anything,  how to do crossovers. As I pushed my way around the rink, the memories came flooding back to me, and I picked one foot up over the other. 

And then I went backwards.

And then I taught other people how to go backwards. 

And everyone was smiling and laughing. 

It was magical.

Well, except for that dude who kept doing stupid shit that caused him to end up loudly landing on the ice. I don't know how he didn't break his face. And the one who was convinced he could skate (or was he trying to fly?) with his arms. He was a little scary.

This being the 29th day of the year (though not my 29th straight day of exercise. In fact, I did no real appreciative exercise today. I had a work meeting (with people who ran a 50k yesterday. That's five 10ks. Thirty miles. And I did nothing. Balls!) and I had lunch with my sisters (my sister flew in for her bff's birthday this weekend. Thankfully, I got to see her beautiful face for an all too brief second!). And then I read. And then I had a nap.), I figure that new beginnings are still being accepted.

This new beginning involves being honest.

So here goes:

I am scared. 

And lonely.

And I have no idea what I am doing with myself.

This is maybe the real reason I have been MIA over the last few weeks. 

Depression, that soul- sucking beast that it is, surely lives here. I don't really know for sure though, because I can't slow down enough to let it catch me.

I have too much to do. I can't stay in bed all day or drink my face off, even though I really want to. 

That would be letting it win.

Also: I am scared to run. 

Remember when I said I ran through my dad's death? Yeah, well, I ran. All. The. Time.

I skipped class to run. I skipped going out and meeting sane people because I had to run. I had to run until I had nothing left just so that I could sleep.

And I don't want to go back there.

I am scared.

I know it will go away; it always does. But right now? Right now is hard.

And that's why I need back up

I heard a friend once say that he didn't need a back up plan. He figured that as long as he had a Plan B, he wouldn't put as much energy into Plan A. 

The thought made sense to me. 

It worked for me for like, five minutes.

My need to plan and think things through prevented me from ever really letting go of plan B.

Except when it came to 30/30.

I had no back up plan.

I was just gonna do it, you know?

Despite living in my sister's house, AKA The Den Of Sickness, for over a week, I never thought about getting sick.

So, as you may imagine, I was totally unprepared for catching the plague. 

What started out as a runny nose quickly became a hoarse bark/ hacking cough/ I sounded like I was going to die. When I finally went to the doctor a week ago, determined to not be sick at the start of the semester, she laughed at me and told me I had at least five days till the barking stopped. 

My doctor laughed at me. I think we should be friends. Immediately. 

And that sexy post-nasal drip voice? It was going to be around awhile, so I may as well get used to it.

I asked her if she bought into the old runner's wisdom that if you had a head cold, go ahead and run. However, if it was in the lungs, take a rest day. 

She looked at me, really confused. 

You actually run? she asked.

Good luck with that. was the best advice she had to offer.

Best. Doctor. Ever.

As I walked back to the other end of campus, gasping for air, it did occur to me that running might not be possible, never mind not being the best idea.

So I took the day off. 

And the next day.

And then a week went by.

And then more.

And then I turned into a giant slug.

Which is clearly why I need a back up plan.

Ever so slowly, the need to gasp for air has decreased. My sexy voice has pretty much disappeared, and I'm now coughing every five minutes instead of every two.

Which tells me that it is time to get back to ass kicking mode. (This time I expect it to be a physical ass kicking instead of a mental one.)

When 5 o'clock came around this morning, I actually thought about crying.

It's so bloody early!

But I was able to drag my ass out of bed. And I actually got a good workout in, despite my lungs screaming at their inability to cough while running.

If you find a lung scrub brush, will you let me know?

Meanwhile, I am going to try to give this 30/30 thing a go.

Diet-schmiet

I spent a few hours today discussing diets with other boot camp instructors. 

I was prepared to hate it. As in, go head to head with the lead instructor, spitting fire. 

Call it my desire to give the middle finger to the establishment if you want, but I've been a non-meat eater for almost all of my adult life. I was a vegan for 3 years. I now eat fish, eggs and cheese in addition to plants. Oh, and honey. I love me some honey. I missed the shit out of honey when I was vegan.

Anyhow, three years ago I started having pain in my wrists. It varied from a dull ache to incapacitating. 

The pain started spreading to other joints while I was in Virginia for work camp in July. By the time I returned home in August, I was in constant pain. I was also going to the bathroom 15+ times a day. I had no idea it was possible to be so full of shit. My energy disappeared. As in, I had a hard time standing up.

I stopped eating.

I didn't have the energy to chew. After five days without food (I drank a lot of water), the trips to the bathroom decreased and I started craving apples. After biting into that first juicy apple, my appetite returned. Sort of.

I was happy eating fruit, and some vegetables. As I reached for my favorite comfort foods, though, I started feeling horrible all over again. 

And then my sister came across a quiz about being gluten free. 

It changed my life.

Going gluten free has meant that I can live without pain. I also can live outside of the bathroom, which is nice. I can't say exactly what my issue is, since I wasn't diagnosed by a physician (no health insurance, fear of pre-existing conditions... I realize I don't have to worry about that anymore (Thank you President Obama!)), but I do know that after about three weeks of feeling better, I went to church and had Communion. Within fifteen minutes, I had a fever and my joints were aching. I went home and slept it off. 

Several months later, I had lunch with a friend before going to my sister's house. In the car, the fever and joint pain returned. This time, though, I was confused. I couldn't figure out where my sister lived. It took forever to type her address into my phone, and then I still couldn't figure out which way to go. My heart was racing as my frustration level rose. I knew where I was, but couldn't follow a map. I finally ended up driving home (still don't know how I figured out how to get home!).

The next time my reaction happened, I was at a bowling alley with my siblings and our significant others. The fever, joint pain, and panic returned, along with a swollen tongue. I couldn't speak to explain what was happening to me. Not having a doctor to give me an epi pen, I did the next best thing: I started carrying Benadryl with me.

The most recent reaction was in Decatur, a year ago. I was having dinner with some friends and had to leave early because I couldn't breathe. Not gonna lie: it was scary. I didn't have the Benadryl with me. My reaction at this restaurant seemed to confirm my suspicion that I am allergic to wheat. Or something like it. Something commonly found alongside it.

(I totally cheat on this. After going two years without beer, I broke down. It was amazing. And I had no reaction. I also don't have a problem with soy sauce. Weird, right?)

So I'm gluten free (-ish).

The seminar today promised to go over the "fad" (Stupidest word ever. Say it five times fast. Stupid, yes?) of gluten free diets and the idiocy that is the Paleo diet. I was seriously ready to punch someone. 

Fad? Really? An average of 1 out of 133 people has a wheat problem. How is that a fad? 

And Paleo? People weren't even around during the paleolithic era. Stupid. (I choose not to go into this abyss right now because I fear I'll never come out. Stupid.)

I was very pleased to find that the leader had done some homework on diets. By this, I mean she came to the conclusion I did: diets are stupid. (And they don't work. Er, they do, but then we stop the diet, and go back to the way we were, and then get frustrated.)

And so I didn't have to cut anyone. Which was a good thing because I left my shiv at home.

30/30:5

Today was insane. 

I put my life in a 10'x10' box.

Er, the part of my life that is not my dog, my running shoes, or school books. That part stays with me. 

Oh, and a picture of my dad. When he was in middle school.

The rest of it is locked up, miles from where I am now.

Now I sit and type this, as I take a break from preparing for tomorrow (because we couldn't wait until Monday for school to start like the rest of the university system. Nooooooo.), I am reminded of exactly why I am so sore.

I moved today. I rented a truck, and a storage unit, and I moved. 

All by myself. 

Well, not exactly. 

That Handsome Man helped me.  After I told him I couldn't marry him (yeah, that's what's been going on), he still helped lift and carry all my crap. Most of my crap, anyhow. 

I had loaded all of the boxes and was trying to figure out how to load my dresser in the truck when he showed up. And without complaining, he lifted and carried.

So yeah, I'm counting moving as my workout today. I wish I could count all of the reading I have to do as a workout. I'd have like 8 hours of workouts! It'd be amazing.

And I'm counting taking down all of the Christmas ornaments (they were hanging from the ceiling) plus laps around the store as my workout yesterday. Step up four steps, reach up, snip, step down. Repeat.  Cheap, sure. Barely a workout? Probably. But let's see how many times you can go up and down a ladder! 

This is not to say that every time I have a 10 hour work day that I will not do an aerobic workout.

But you know that feeling when you're getting sick? The sore throat/ fever feeling? 

I had that.

Plus, I overslept. 

I've never done that. 

Seriously. 

The sound of my alarm showed up in my dream. Which if you've never had that happen, is next door to total weirdsville. Like, I think it was something else. Like crickets. My phone alarm this morning was the sound of crickets (thank you iPhone for non-buzzer alarms). Only I thought it was a piece of candy being unwrapped. And then it was something else. And then I got very confused. 

Today I have a sore throat/ I'd like to stay in bed but have too much to do sensation. Boo.

I think I may die.

No, Ma, it's not a Man Cold. 

I really think I may die. In fact, I'm quite sure of it.

Just not today. I have too much to do.

running cold

Holy carp!

(insert picture of fish with halo)

It's f-f-fuh-fuh-freezing!!!!!!

I innocently peered at my phone this morning and was shocked awake when I saw the temperature. 

A blistering 21 degrees Fahrenheit.

Seriously.

And the wind chill?

Yeah, that was nine.

NINE.  

What?!?!? How is that even a temperature?

(I am officially dreading boot camp! Especially since I now have to hold still!)

My fingers were blue in minutes.

Even in Mizuno's Breath Thermo gloves. Which I love.

(Interestingly, I wore the socks and my feet were fine.)

I braved the frigid temps for 26 minutes. I couldn't hang. 

Also? 

I was slooooowwwwuh. Like I ran 2 miles slow.

Unless my watch froze.

I remember my mom talking about how much easier it is to run in the cold.

Yeah. 

There are limits to that.

Today was not easier.

Today was near impossible.

I did sit ups and push ups for my remaining 4 minutes.

30/30:2

Ah-ha! 

And you thought that becasue I didn't post yesterday, and it's late today, that I was failing the 30/30 before I began.

Well, you're wrong.

Yeah, I just threw that out there like that. Subtlety doesn't live here. I mean, in case you haven't noticed....

My boss lady from the summer work camp I "led" (it was more like herding cats) had this knack for doing that southern tact thing where I'd be having a conversation with her and before you know what happened, I'd realize that she'd insulted me (or someone in my general direction). And I'd like it. I am still smiling.

...Yeah. I can't do that.

I digress.

So, in case you missed it, I am trying to exercise for 30 minutes everyday this month. Yes, I know January has 31 days. I have a grace day. I need lots of grace. Especially since I don't exercise every day. I mean, not in a purposeful way. I am on my feet all day, so there is walking, but it's not aerobic or anything. Which is why I am doing this. To see if I can. Please feel free to join me!

My sister, Molly Marler of Pomp & Circumstance, will be joining me on this adventure.

Yesterday started with a walk with Charlie, my awesome dog. It was awesome. And beautiful. And then there were black- eyed peas and greens. And booze. Bailey's for the coffee, mimosas becasue... Because. There's no reason for mimosas. And beer. Ok, (for the first time ever) I didn't drink the beer. And wine. (I drank that.) There was football. And board games. And laughter. And then, before I knew it, the day was done. 

A satisfactory start to the year.

Today was 15 ff-fuh-fuh-freezing minutes of runnning with dog, 20 without (had to turn up the volume;   he can't hang). And 4 miles in total. And no booze. Which makes me a disappointing beer runner, I know. 

I will work on that. 

Like, now.