Do you see my inbox??? I’ll never get through all of those asks. I am a terrible blogger, I’m so sorry. >_<
Going through and unfollowing a ton of blogs. Maybe because I’m no longer interested in having the content on my dash, because I find it triggering, because it bores me or because it pisses me off. Or because of some reason I fail to name because it’s nameless.
If I unfollow you, don’t take it personally. Or do. That’s fine too. I don’t hate you or anything. I’m just trying to get myself back to a pure fitness blog and it’s hard to do with so much extra floating around.
That is all.
This means no running for at least 6 weeks. The next 6 weeks. The best 6 weeks of the year for running. When everything is blooming and beautiful.
To be honest, I’m in so much pain I can’t even walk. I have to use my tiptoe on my right foot to get around.
Looks like my bicycle will be getting a lot of use this season. My quads are going to be killer.
I haven’t really run since January. I’ve run a few times here and there, but never with my heart in it. More like the “because I’m supposed to” attitude that had overwhelmed just about every decision in my life (welcome to “battling” depression where by battling I actually mean pretending to be normal by doing the things I’m supposed/expected to do.)
But today was different. This whole week has been different. Since classes ended and school is over and I’m all kinds of an official scientist now (how cool is that?) my life seems to be back on the up. An intense upward spiral. Like, when I hit bottom I forget that I stashed a trampoline down there to protect me from the fall. Back up I fly.
My compulsive eating disappeared, quite literally, over the course of about 3 days. I feel… well adjusted. I found my corn kernel.
But anyway… onto my run. (item of note: this may bore the shit out of you, but since it’s a fitness post: you can’t complain. Neener neener neener.)
You’re not body positive, you’re just as hateful to the skinny girls as the cliques are to the fat girls. So stop it.
Don’t tell me how my clavicle should look. Maybe mine is more prominent than yours no matter what my weight. Maybe I carry fat in the back of my arms but my hip bones are the first thing to stick out when I lose weight.
Don’t tell me what MY healthy is.
Don’t let ANYONE who isn’t an actual professional tell you what your healthy is. Ever. Besides, you don’t need some post, that’s circulated umpteen times across your dash, to convince you that you have worth. That your body has worth. That you could possibly be desirable. How dare they assume you’re not!
Don’t pretend for an instant that anyone else sees in the mirror the same thing you see. You see every flaw, just like they see in themselves. Reconcile that first.
The balancing act is absurd, but we all do it. But our bodies are our own and we can mold them into what we want them to be.
So you don’t want to benchpress a bear. So what? Who the fuck am I to judge your desire to be slender and dainty? Just because what you want - doesn’t fall in line with what I want - doesn’t give me some high and mighty right to deem you wrong.
Know yourself. Love yourself. Treat yourself well. Do what’s best for you. YOU. You you you you you.
Jump up and down. Scream ME!!! Me me me me me me me me me!!!!!!!
Do it. Right now. Because that’s what it’s all about. Right now, in this moment, you are you. And you should know who that you is. Sit down and have a glass of tea/coffee/water/wine with yourself and say hello.
The great debate. I’m designing a sweater to knit and I need opinions (I know most of you must want to stuff my knitting needles where the sun doesn’t shine, but I’m wearing my “ha ha, I’m posting about knitting anyway” face.)
I am definitely leaning towards the horseshoe cable version, but now I’m debating what color I want the top part to be. I originally designed it to have a silver top, but now I’m leaning between black or white instead. I’d need to buy white but I have black on hand. The red I’m using is a nice dark red. The deep red of blood, or a velvety rose.
ARGH!!! Help me make up my mind!!!! What are your opinions?
I’m currently on prednisone though, so it may have thrown off my groove. I’m going to eat it again tomorrow (before I take the prednisone) to see if it makes a difference. Then I’ll eat it again once I’m completely off the prednisone to check again.
I’m a glutton for punishment… and answers.
Poison ivy is almost gone. You can see the patch above my left knee is all that’s left.
A few days on 40mg of Prednisone and it’s mostly cleared up. That stuff scares the hell out of me… suppressing the immune system seems so counter-intuitive, but I know why it works… Just… no one cough near me until I’m off it, okay?
I should be off it before I get the extra terrible side-effects. So far just mild heart palpitations and occasional light headedness.
I made this because I needed to make it. Because I kind of feel like this is where I am. Because I might as well find something positive about hitting the bottom with a resounding ::thwack::
Might as well build something stable while I’m here.
I’m spinning my own yarn and getting pretty decent at it. YAY ME!
This one is from my very first spin.
This one is from just now, which is my third spin. I still need to add more to it, but I’ve stopped for the evening.
You can tell it’s a much nicer and more even yarn. S’ok. I think I’ll make squares from the practice yarn. Maybe just a potholder or I could start a patchwork afghan.
I made a hat today. I needed an instant gratification project after ripping out my afghan for the umpteenth time.
I don’t believe in ghosts or ghouls, vampires or goblins, demons or gods, faeries or monsters under the bed.
Until I watch a scary fucking movie. Then I’m prepared to punch a ghost in the face all day er’ry day.
Sinister. Sinister is a fucked up movie.
That is all… Go about your happy Friday night while I finish watching this movie, curled up in my papasan chair, alone, in the (mostly) dark while I knit my floppy hippie hat, freaking out over every noise.
Screw you guys. You’re no help at all!!!
Things to change:
- Stop letting my ED (food addiction?) control my eating habits.
- Stop giving into cravings
- Stop bringing foods I can’t eat responsibly into the house. I do the shopping therefore I have the control.
Things to look out for:
- A negative attitude. My depression has been the worst I’ve ever dealt with, but being negative on top won’t help. If I pretend to be positive for long enough, eventually I will be.
- Avoiding … the world. Being away from friends and loved ones isn’t going to help anything.
- Misattributing emotions. Figure it out.
Things to do:
- Start tracking my intake again. I’ve always known I cannot be without an intake diary. Without it I will always, always, always eat to excess. Always. I’d rather be obsessed with entering my food into a diary than with eating as much of the food as possible. One is a mild mental health issue where the other is a detrimental physical health and mental health issue. Lesser of the evils.
- Get rid of the bad crap in the house. No duh, Bonnie. This is on the list called “you already know better than that”.
- Start tracking the good stuff I do. It’s just as important to note the good as it is to note the bad.
- Make a calendar to put good things and bad things on. One side green and one side red. Goal: fill the green and empty the red. Get there.
I know this is a personal post, but if any of these things relate to anyone else in any way… feel free to take advantage of my list. Or add to it or… whatever. You know the drill.
It’s just not fair what happens in this world. It’s raining in Chicago right now and I wrote this a little while ago.
I’ve been following the news all day and the horror is really setting in. I’ve seen the most awful images. So many people lost legs in the blast. An 8 year old boy was killed. Probably waiting for his mom or dad to cross the finish line.
This was so close to home. So needless and so pointless. I almost went to watch the race. I had the day off but just didn’t feel like dealing with the traffic on race day. It’s always insane and I usually avoid the city on Marathon Monday. I’m glad I did. But part of me wishes I had gone. Not that they needed any help, but it might wash away my feelings of guilt for not being there.
I feel so sick. So, so sick. I’m furious, enraged, nauseous, disgusted, horrified… so much horror.
This poem kind of struck me because for the first time in weeks… we had beautiful weather. It was stunning out today. First day in a long time that the sun was out all day. No clouds. No rain. I thought it was a perfect day for the Marathon. Last year it was 80°F. Too hot for Marathon Monday. It was in the 50’s today. Perfect racing weather.
I’m so angry. I’m not sure why it took until 10 pm for my tears to fall… but fall they do. Maybe I have been watching the live feed for too long. Maybe I’ve looked at too many images. Maybe I’m just slow to absorb the hugeness and the horribleness of the truth of what happened.
Everyone I know is accounted for, but that doesn’t lessen the blow. My respect for human life and quality of life doesn’t stop with the people I know. It extends to all of humanity. And right now… those simple things… they have been taken away from people. And it happened right in my city. Boston is MY city and it has been attacked.
MY city. MINE. Boston belongs to me. It belongs to anyone who loves what the stars and stripes stand for. America may be going through some ugly times (what country doesn’t) but Boston has always been a symbol of freedom. The history of this city is rich with stories of the bold and the brave. And today is no different. Have you seen the videos? Have you watched? Did you see the explosion and then watch people run towards it? I did. I saw men and women in uniform (BPD, National Guard and race volunteers) running right towards the blast. I love those people. I love them with all my heart. I don’t need to know them personally. I love them just the same.
Times like this I want so badly for words and prayers and wishes to do something. They don’t. I know that. But that’s okay because I have blood to give and money to donate, and I will. I will donate both. And if they need my time or my helping hands, I will donate those too. My house has been listed as a place to stay for those who have nowhere to go.
This city is mine and I love it and I will do what I can to help in any way I can. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I was so close, but I wasn’t there. I’m sorry.
Always move in baby steps. Even if your goal is huge. Especially if your goal is huge.
Whether you’re starting out or whether you’ve been working towards the same goal for what seems like forever. Progress is made one step at a time.
In running a race you put one foot in front of the other. One at a time. Eventually, you get to where you’re going.
It can be especially difficult if you have slid backwards and have to dust yourself off and begin again. You remember where you once were and want to begin from that point again.
But you can’t. And if you try to, you risk failure or worse: hurting yourself.
Being discouraged is normal. Being upset is normal. Being angry is normal. Being disappointed is normal.
All those negative emotions are normal and expected. Take the moment to faceroll, facepalm or berate yourself. Then get off your ass and move forward again. Learn why you tripped and remember to notice if it starts happening again.
It’s okay. You are never a failure unless you truly quit on yourself.
Make one small change. One at a time. Then realize that all those small changes add up into one complete transformation.