Being Civil

Facebook, texting, and twitter have completely ruined humanity's ability to be civil. All the passive-aggressive bullshit posts are starting to make me wonder if anyone is really happy with anyone in their lives anymore. I unfriended my husband last week- what a bullshit thing to do! How did we get here? There is a reason why talking to someone face to face about your problem with their current bad habit or the mean thing they implied about you, is uncomfortable. We're supposed to feel apprehension about what we say, not just blurt out whatever is annoying us for the world to see. Oh, look how far we've fallen! People grow close and end up hating each other in a span of months or weeks. We think all our friends need to see that we are having a terrible day. That used to be private. That used to be something you shared over a cup of coffee with your coworker or a beer with a friend. Now, we're just hunched over our iPhone or computer screen bitching about a world we don't even participate in. Talking behind someone's back is normal. We all need to vent once in a while about the boss who took his personal issues out on you, or the friend who implied you'd put on a few pounds. We need to let that out because otherwise it starts to matter too much, and who needs that? But now there is jabbing and not-so-subtle implications thrown about on a website for all your friends to see and comment on. Great, talk about dirty laundry. Who unfriends their husband on facebook??? That's just uncalled for. Oh, what circumstances could lead to such an unfortunate slip in my sanity and peace of mind? And the story is one worth telling. No insults, but here is my take on what has happened in my life these past few weeks:




My husband began to spend time with a friend of his from his old Target days. This person was, of course, a girl, and that automatically puts a wife on edge. I do not allow jealousy to overwhelm, and have trust in my husband, so I did not believe this fact was terribly concerning. Because they had reconnected on Facebook, they tended to talk a lot and got to know each other "well" over the next week. I put "well" in quotes because no one gets to know anyone over Facebook, we all just give you the information that makes us seem pleasant and let you think we've got no character flaws. Before my return from Austin, where I was doing training for work, I had been asked if this girl could stay with us with her 5 children for a couple of weeks while she got all the details worked out for her new apartment. Why not? A couple of weeks can't be too bad.

I came home to the usual stresses of returning to routine. I now had 5 children living in my house, though. I have never been bad with kids, but I find playing with kids draining and stressfull. This is because I care about their wellbeing, probably. That is neither here nor there, the stress of the kids was nothing compared to the stress of the other two adults currently residing with me. I can remember the first time I really felt betrayed by my husband. I saw him in the kitchen talking with his new buddy as she was making us dinner. I asked him to keep me company in the kitchen on so many occasions only to be blown off for sports or some stand-up comedian. But this woman gets his full attention as she cleans and cuts potatoes. I could not understand why the events hurt me so badly, so I did not mention anything, figuring it was all unfounded and ridiculous. More and more, things would jump out as thing he would do to help this friend of his, but would be too tired or not want to do for me. It ate at me until I found myself halfway through an 18 mile run in tears, kneeling on the pavement. I was heart-broken. I was not worth mowing the lawn for, but every ounce of energy my husband had could be spent on his new girl. I couldn't finish my run. As is the response of all of us who would rather flee than fight, I packed my things, and got ready to spend a night elsewhere. At this time, I unfriended my husband on facebook- mostly to avoid seeing his posts about his mood changes- all based on how he felt about his new girl. It was, of course, at 3AM, and I started putting my things in bags. This woke up my husband, and he wanted to know where I was going. I explained, he apologized, and I did not leave.

Meanwhile, the job and housing fell through for our guest. This increased the stress in her life and the uncertainty of when we would have our living space back put my husband and me on edge. But, I am developing a good sense of self, and I found myself trying to make the best of things. I played with the kids when they were there, but kept in mind that my own sanity was my primary concern, so I would head out to the gym if things felt too stressful or if I needed alone time. I am trying to be mindful of the present and not spend so much energy wishing things were different. It allowed me to enjoy moments I would have never had if I'd continued to be captain grumpy pants. And so things turned, and I was at genuinely happy while in a transient set of unhappiness.

Arguments began occurring and hurt feelings were being had by the other 2 "grown-ups" in the house, and I realized what an unhealthy home I was suddenly and unwillingly a part of. Oh, the facebook posts and twitter feeds would fly, and letters and text messages and all out fights were commonplace in my once peaceful abode. My days off were spent hearing my husband complain or talk about how he felt guilty about things, and his stress was near palpable. I am loyal, and do not like to see my friends hurt or damaged by unhealthy relationships. I certainly did not want my husband hurt, and tried to advise him to let things go and not worry about her, and to hit the gym to relieve some stress. My advice and my suggestions went unheeded. If I were my husband I would ask why he even talks to me if he is not going to listen to any of my life-saving suggestions, but I am willing to be patient because I like to say, "I told you so". And, while frustrated by the situation, I stayed mindful, repeating, "It is what it is."



TO BE CONTINUED. . .

 

My best worst marathon ever.

Signing up for a marathon is always a gamble. You bet that you will be healthy on a day months in advance, that you will be able to avoid injury training up to that day, that you will have trained to run your best marathon yet, and that you will be of sound mind and remember all the crap you need to successfully run a marathon.


June 5, 2011- Rock and Roll Marathon San Diego. Was I mentally ready to go through the checklist of things I would need to have the morning of the race? Nope. Had I gone through training without injury? Nope. Did I have a restful week full of good nutrition and a perfect taper? Of course not. This was not the time for setting a new PR. I knew that going in, and I thought I was okay with it. San Diego is a 6 hour drive, and I planned to sleep the whole way. Why I ever assume that, because I plan on sleep, it will happen, is beyond me. I slept long enough for it to make my neck hurt, and that was the best I could do. The expo was accomplished easily, and my packet was picked up. We got back to the hotel with plenty of time to relax, find some food, and for me to get set for the next day! So, what did I forget? I had no headphones or jacket for my iPod. . .hmm, I could run without music, that'd be ok. I had no socks . . . problem. I could try running without socks . . . uh, no I couldn't. My husband heroically took on the task of getting some headphones and socks from target while I fell into a deep, Ambien-induced sleep. I would be ready to tackle the marathon in the morning!

Morning coffee, some oatmeal, and a running outfit sent me in the right direction for starting a marathon. I left with an hour and 30 minutes to get to the shuttle. Traffic would be a nightmare, but I am a planner, and would never be late. . .traffic was a nightmare, and I was 15 minutes late getting on the shuttle. I laughed that it would only take me twice as long to finish the marathon. The arrogance of such a thought got the attention of universe, and it was determined to teach me some respect! I took my time getting to the start. Since it is all chip timed, I got to wait in line to use the port-o-potty, and then walk over to the starting corrals. I was in a much slower group, so I'd have to do quite a bit of weaving to get this thing done. Qualify for Boston, yes please. Crap, I forgot my Gu. . .Balls, I didn't put sunscreen on my face. . .eh, too late now, let's rock and roll!!!
Pacing myself for the first mile, I kept myself slightly under an 8:30 min/mi. I felt amazing. The temperature was perfect, and my music was motivating my progress. After the first mile, I went for it. I knew I could get that 3:30 time. I could feel my legs, powerful, ready to take on anything! Turned out the course was pretty hilly . . . no matter, I trained in Austin, and my last marathon had hills. I bumped my pace up again, blasting through 2 more miles at a sub 8 min/mile. I let myself drop back to an 8:10 after that to make sure I didn't burn myself out . . . ha ha. I hit mile 7- rather, mile 7 hit me with muscle pain from my quadriceps. That was unexpected. And there I was, ready to run another 19 miles with this pain. "It is no different than the pain you'll feel coming off that 112 mile bike ride", I told myself. And so, I ran on. I could not keep the faster pace, so I had to let go of Boston. That disappointment hurt almost as much as my legs.

Mile 20, the infamous moment when you separate the men from the boys! My heart became too heavy to run with anymore, and it was time to let go. I felt like I had failed myself. I believed I would not become an ironman. Yes, I cried. So many people are impressed by what I can do. My friends, coworkers, family, they wish me good luck and tell me to kick butt, and they know I am powered by discipline and a strong will. My discipline had been weak, my will was tapped out, and I faced the realization that I was going to let us all down.

Mile 22- I quit. I was ready to find the next medical aid tent and have them cart me off the course. What was the point of going on anymore? When I vocalized my intention to quit, the guy next to me said, "No, you can't quit." It surprised me. I forgot what that phrase sounded like when it came from somewhere outside my own head. I would walk, but I would not quit. The difference between walking the last 6 miles of a marathon and quitting seemed small to me. Anyone can walk 6 miles, right? And there I was, watching runners who had properly paced and hydrated zip past me as I felt the full sting of my failure.
Mile 24- Being present. My battery was getting low, and I had to turn off my music. And so my journey began. I came out of my self-focused pity party, and began to realize where I was, and who I was surrounded by the self-proclaimed "stragglers". We each had a story of what we'd wanted to accomplish today, and many of us were not going to make it, but it was indeed a beautiful day for failure. Walking, talking, singing along with the bands that played along the route, and being completely aware of the moment I was in without a rush to get on to the next agenda item, lead me to a peace of mind I had forgotten how to experience. The purity of the moment, and my ability to let go made me realize this marathon was never about Boston. This marathon was for me.
Mile 26- Only a mile to go, so, what the hell, let's get it done right. And I was off. My goal- run a mile. I could feel my quads, but my heart was light again, and the pain just didn't seem so bad. So I took off at an 8:30 min/mi pace, looking like I'd just started this crazy race over again at the last mile. I have never felt so good about a race. I have never been prouder to recieve a medal. And, I have never been in so much pain the next day. I found my limits, and I ran into them full force that day. I will be a stronger person because I chose to complete a marathon on June 5th 2011.

A girl's just as hot as the shoes she choose

 Ah, nothing like the cliche thought of a woman and her shoes.  Shoes are the foundation of fashion, and for women, they have the power to bring joy in so many ways.  What better moment in a girl's life than the day she gets her first pair of heels (usually she is under the age of 5, and her shoes are plastic).  Then, there is our first set of ballet slippers.  I can remember dancing in those slippers until I was too tired to stand, and falling into my mothers lap after she watched the entire "ballet" (which was more like random jumping and flailing, but it was beautiful in its own way).  Some girls had tap shoes, and though I never wanted to tap dance, I always loved the click of those shoes!  The impact of a pair of shoes can sometimes surprise you.  I had a pair of flip flops that traveled the world with me- bright green, ugliest pieces of crap you've ever seen, but I loved them dearly because of the memories associated with them.

I stare at a closet filled with shoes.  Each of them define me.  They give me purpose.  I am not your typical shoe shopper.  I do not care what color of shoes I am buying.  I do not care if my purse matches my purchase.  I only think about what the shoes allow me to accomplish.  Every pair of shoes I wear has a title identifying its function:  running shoes, biking cleates, hiking boots, paragliding boots, dress shoes. Shoes are a reflection of what you intend to accomplish.  My running shoes tell the world, "I intend to exercise".  My heels imply, "I am going out".  My cycling cleats say, "I will be on my bike soon".  And, my flip flops say "I will be doing very little".