election (part 2 of 2) – in which dan rather tells us not to opt out.

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So, Dear Reader, when we left off, I was angry. Maybe you remember.

To continue, the day after the election, after I dropped Miss L off, I cried on the way into work. My eyes watered spontaneously all morning and despite keeping myself locked in my office, I eventually had to slink out to go to the copy machine. My CEO was standing there, looking a bit perplexed and jabbing at some blinking buttons, and asked me somewhat absently what I thought about the outcome – the question I was dreading.

I told him I couldn’t talk about it yet.

He and I go way back, and since the backbone of our discussions is usually a shared sense of humor, I’m sure he thought I was kidding. He laughed and then  saw by the tears trickling down my face that I was serious. I said to him, “I don’t know how to be anything other than sick that we just elected someone that gave the United States free rein to grab my pussy.” (Yes, I said “pussy” to my CEO.) He stopped laughing and then horrified, I apologized.Welp, I thought, now I am fired and have a president that is a pussy grabber. That’s just GREAT.

However, he just laughed again and said that I never needed to apologize to him, that we were friends, and I said, “I’m apologizing because I would never speak to anyone like that, much less a friend,” and he acknowledged my apology. He said somberly, “I owe you an apology, too. I should have seen how upset you were, and not laughed.”
“You didn’t know. It’s okay. Being upset is no excuse to use language that I don’t condone. But I am upset,” I said. “I feel so sad, and I feel unsafe, and I feel as though we now have a president that disrespects and abandons huge portions of the population that are already disenfranchised. I can’t believe that so many people think his rhetoric is okay, or even no big deal. If he even had a plan as to how to go about accomplishing the grandiose things he says he’s going to do, then maybe – JUST MAYBE- I could understand. I know you probably voted for him,” and he interrupted me.
“I didn’t vote for him,” he said, startled. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re a Republican, and very conservative, and you are in a very elite position,” I told him. He shook his head and told me that in fact, he had not voted for him, and had never in his wildest dreams thought that he could win. “I gave a speech in Japan last month, ” he told me, “and I was asked to give my opinion on the US election. I said then that there was no chance that he could be elected.”
“I guess we were both wrong,” I said. “I’m sorry again, for jumping to conclusions.”

My CEO is a working class man who was raised in the Rust Belt by religious, blue collar parents. He started out working in an auto shop when he was thirteen and paid his own way through a second-tier college, where he got an engineering degree. He worked for some major automotive suppliers, both in manufacturing facilities as well as in engineering departments, and is as tough as they come.

I spent years working directly for him in my last position with Widget Central, and he is as tough, disciplined and thorough as they come. If he gave us a task, he would leave us alone to do the work, but he would want to know how we did it, how we got to every number. He would tape slides and charts around his office and pace for hours, absorbing, going over them and over them. He is dogged and unremitting in his work ethic and his expectations not just of himself, but his employees.

And he’s conservative. We debated about a lot of things in the days before his promotion to the C-suite and usually ended up laughing and agreeing to disagree. He called me Lisbeth Salander more than once (which, if you know me, is ridiculous because I’m bland – no mohawk or piercings – maybe he saw through my conservative costume.) But he is also exceptionally courteous, calm, and thoughtful. I’ve never seen him speak out of anger or bully, abuse, or disparage anyone, no matter how angry he is. He weighs his words and treats others with a deep, gracious kindness that is completely unforced – it radiates from him. I remember once having to go into his office to tell him that I had screwed something up. It was a big something. It made him look bad. I was miserable and apologized. And he said to me, “Stop apologizing. You told me up front that you didn’t know how to do it, and I had no choice, I had no one else to do it. I saw you slave over that for hours and yeah, it didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. But you know what? You tried. You might not know this, but it means something to have an employee that will try their guts out. Sometimes you will fail, but you don’t know how rare it is to have the will to keep trying. I can take a few mistakes, if that’s the case.”

After we parted ways at the copy machine, I realized that I had unfairly judged him out of the anger and the grief in my heart. I’d assumed that I knew him, his values, and his reasoning, and I used those assumptions to lash out using words that I would never advocate. And then, I reflected, even if he *had* voted for Trump, wouldn’t he still be the same person that has been my friend and excellent, trusted boss for all of these years? He is still the same person. How could I hate him or think that he would deliberately put someone in office that he thought would hurt people? He wouldn’t. He would have his reasons, but they would not be those reasons. And if he did vote for Trump,  wouldn’t he still be worthy of being treated with the same respect and kindness that he has always shown me? And if I can’t  treat him as such, how am I any better than the people I blame for supporting Trump and getting us into this mess?

It’s difficult to explain the fall of the dominoes that gave me a change of heart, except to say that I am the kind of person that has to know what I can do to fix something. I have to know what work I have to do to get the outcome I want. And then – I’ll do the damn work. Right now, I’m tired of being angry. I’m not tired of being angry with Trump – I hate him and all he stands for – but this week there has been an escalating tone of rage and hatred, in the violence in the streets as well as in the press and, more personally, on my social media and in my workplace. I’ve gotten in arguments and debates with people I like and respect because they won’t see my viewpoint and I can’t see theirs. Personally, I feel that the Trump campaign is responsible for it, and I want to opt out of the conversation. I want to fight everyone and be full of rage at people who voted for him. I want to blame them. But violence is what happens when we don’t know what else to do with our suffering, as Parker Palmer so wisely said, and there is no blame that can be laid without equal shares of responsibility and accountability. None of us can opt out of this conversation. We own it. We are living it. And if all I can do to fix this is work on myself, then, motherfucker, I will work on my own damn self. I have to find a way to turn my tone from rage and hatred, from lashing out at people based on my assumption of their situation, to reaching out and trying to understand. I have to find a way to respond to reports of violence, racism, sexism, hatred, not with my own lightning rage, finger-pointing and screams of “It’s YOUR FAULT” (as I am so prone to do) but maybe as Bernie Sanders did. He said, “To the degree that Mr Trump is serious about pursuing policies that improve the lives of working families in this country, I and other progressives are prepared to work with him. To the degree that he pursues racist, sexist, xenophobic and anti-environment practices, we will vigorously oppose him.” I can get behind that. I can look down this dark street and see that light in the black and follow it. Support the good. Vigorously oppose the bad. Stand up for the rights of all and be unfailingly courteous, kind, and protective of those who need my protection until I’m too old to protect anyone anymore. When Dan Rather says “don’t opt out,” maybe that’s what he’s asking me to do and if that’s my work, I will do it.
I don’t want to do it.
It’s easier to be pissed and hateful.
I want to lay down and cry instead of doing it.

But that’s life and that’s the work and maybe I’ll find a lot of people like my CEO, who surprise me.

election (part 1 of 2) – in which i am very very angry

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I don’t really want to talk about the election, and I am sure that no one wants to read about it, but because this is my journal, I have to use it to help myself sort out my feelings. And Facebook is an absolute suck ass minefield these days, it feels like a den of vipers waiting to bite your heel. Feel free to read on or stop, it’s up to you, Dear Reader, but I warn ya, this is a RANT. This is everything I’ve wanted to say, and haven’t.

On Wednesday I had to wake my daughter up and tell her that someone that she considers to be a bad person was just elected president. I watched her turn over and bury her face in the pillow. I’d warned her, and tried to explain the voting process when we were walking down to the voting booths on Tuesday, but I explained to her (again) that this is part of living in America; sometimes we get to see the candidates we vote for take office, and sometimes we don’t. I explained (again) that sometimes the president-elect says things and does things that are not acceptable, and that just because he says and does them doesn’t mean that she or anyone else should. I said that if anyone says anything to her that she doesn’t understand, she should ask me, but I explained that we will continue to do what we do – respect each other and our neighbors and friends, be kind, stand up to bullies, protect and love and look after each other.

I said that she would probably hear some things at school today, and that everyone would have an opinion. Everyone gets a vote, I said, and that vote is private. No one has to justify their vote to anyone – that is the beauty of America. I told her that no matter who people voted for, that was their business. We were just going to do what we do and that it was all going to be okay, that her family loves and will protect her, and that if she has any questions, concerns, or fears, that she could talk to me about anything.

I know that she will be digesting this for awhile, and processing it as she does, and we will have more discussions. But for the moment, she was okay. I held her hand when we walked into school and the kids in Y-care were having a dance party and everything felt normal.

Those are the things that I needed to say to my child, and she needed to hear.
The minute I left, though, I could drop my mask, and sit in my car feeling all of the feelings. I pounded on the steering wheel. I cried. I screamed. I wanted to punch the world. I wanted to punch myself for feeling this so deeply.

I need someone to explain this to me, because I don’t understand.

And I am enraged.

I watched Van Jones in a CNN clip and it made me cry. “You try to teach your kids not to be bigots,” he said. “You try to teach your kids not to be bullies. How do I explain this to my kids?”

So many people in this country thrown away by our president-elect, our lazy, corrupt, hateful president-elect. People with disabilities mocked. People beaten and abused at his rallies. Women disrespected. Sexual assault approved of and dismissed as a joke. Nonstop bigotry and intolerance. I’ve had presidents I didn’t agree with before (“W”) but I’ve never dreamed that someone who didn’t respect huge swathes of the American population could ever become its leader. And the most baffling thing to me, the thing I feel the most betrayed by, are the women who voted for him. I had several female friends on FB who proudly said that they were voting for Trump because Hillary is “evil” and voting for Trump is their “Christian duty”. Can someone please explain that to me? How can anyone who calls themselves a Christian vote for someone with so much hatred in his heart?

I understand that both the candidates were deeply flawed, but we have a president-elect who believes that he could walk in and grab a woman “by the pussy” and that’s okay. Even if that’s dismissed as locker room talk – and that’s a big IF in my mind, because I believe firmly that he believes it, has done it, and will do it again – what about the crazies out there who are listening to him? What about the unbalanced population just looking to pop off at an immigrant, or rape a woman, or punch a dissenter? Suddenly, this world seems a lot less safe to me.

There will be violence, and there has been already. There are already swastikas and racial epithets and mobs and women being abused for wearing hijabs. I’ve seen on Facebook people telling “whiny pussy liberals” to quit their crying and acting like we’re crazy for sharing articles about these abuses already being perpetrated. “It’s probably not real and even if it is, it’s not a Trump supporter,” someone said on one post today. Um. Yeah. Because it’s TOTALLY OUT OF THE REALM OF FEASIBILITY that someone would take Donald Trump’s hate speech over this election to heart. Let’s see – in case anyone has forgotten – the last time I checked the running list that the NYTimes was keeping – 281 people our oh-so-respectable president elect has insulted, denigrated, or abused. Actual quotes from his mouth:

“I’d like to punch him in the face.” – about a dissenting protester

“I’ll beat the crap out of you.” – about a dissenting protester

He’d “love to fight” 74-year old Joe Biden

He called Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas”, mocking her Native American blood.

He said Mexican immigrants were “rapists” and “sexual assaulters” – never mind his own glorification of his own sexual assaults on women.

He has said that he would force American soldiers to kill the families of terrorists – including children – and when former National Security Agency and CIA director Michael Hayden indicated that they may refuse – since those are war crimes, Trump’s response was: “They won’t refuse. They’re not going to refuse me. If I say it, they’re going to do it.”

He has called women pigs, dogs, disgusting animals, and slobs. Someone said that about me? No problem. Been called worse. Someone says that in front of my daughter because “President Trump” says it and it must be okay? Game over. Someone grabs me by the pussy because Trump said to do it, that you have to treat women like shit, that we like it? Game over.

All of these things are documented. They’re not made up. He said them. And I know, I know – I hear it all the time. “He’s putting on an act.” “It’s a SHOW. He won’t be like that in office!” “It’s locker room talk!” Eye roll. “Whiny libtard, you are overreacting. Settle down. Don’t take it to heart. Here’s your head pat.” *pat* *pat* *pat*

Yet it’s so unthinkable to red America that his supporters might take that hate speech to heart and do terrible things in its name. It is gobsmacking to me to see anyone say anywhere that they doubt a Trump supporter is responsible for an act of violence. No one should be surprised. It’s going to be happening all the time now. Keep telling yourself that he isn’t really like that, red America, it might make you feel better but no one else believes it.

I don’t know what else to say. None of this is organized or makes any sense. I wish I could put myself together to write a more coherent, data-driven post. But right now all I can feel is sad and outraged. I just really don’t understand it.

entertainment round up + nanowrimo update

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Currently reading: Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen.
I’m not a huge BRUUUCCCCE fan but I heard him on Fresh Air and he was pretty articulate and thoughtful, so when I saw his autobiography in my library’s Lucky Day section, I picked it up. Goodreads tells me that based on my page count, I’m about 20% through it, and so far, I’m fairly ambivalent about the subject matter. It’s not making me feel much different about the music, but his writing is undeniably beautiful and lyrical. In fact, he’s an excellent writer – his chapters are well-organized, his thoughts are expressed clearly, and his descriptions are vivid and tinged with emotional awareness and a sense of passing time. I’m enjoying it  but am casting some longing glances at the next book in my “To Be Read” pile, Six of Crows.

Currently listening to: Podcasts.
I don’t know how I missed the podcast bandwagon for so long, but I have become aware of two that I’m currently devouring voraciously – My Favorite Murder and Thinking Sideways. Truth be told, I like Thinking Sideways better. I was the kid who read all about serial murders at an inappropriately young age – I still remember the look the lady at the bookstore gave me when I bought a biography of Ed Gein with my allowance – but the giggly, jokey tone of the My Favorite Murder hosts can get a little cringeworthy. I like the Thinking Sideways hosts better and am more interested in the wide range of topics they discuss – from the disappearance of Amelia Earhart to a mysterious website that went up in 2011 to ‘min min’ lights in Australia. It’s made my commutes and workouts fly by.

Currently watching: An Idiot Abroad. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a show that makes me laugh out loud as much as this one does. Karl Pilkington is the perfect foil for Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant and his escapades going on twisted world adventures that they dream up for him – priceless. One of my favorites was his experience on a desert island, and his consternation over being asked to wear a grass skirt that’s customary garb for the local tribe.

Currently eating: The original, world famous Tokyo Banana Cake – special giraffe edition. I have a long history of being tricked by Japanese desserts. They are the most beautiful little works of art, all immaculately packaged in artistic wrappings, they look delectable, you take a bite and find out it’s filled with bean curd, or cold potato. However, on a recent trip to the US, the head of our global legal team brought us a box of Banana Cakes and I was pleasantly surprised. They tasted like light, banana-flavored Twinkies filled with caramel custard. I may have finally found a Japanese dessert that I can eat! (I really only ate one although if I hadn’t been forced to share the box, I could have gladly had more.)

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Currently thinking about: NaNoWriMo.
I’m solidly out of the gate during this first week, writing every day. I’m not meeting the recommended daily word count of 1,600-something, but I’m over 1,000 words each day and averaging about 1,200. Respectable, I think. I have a full outline with all of my chapters laid out and am ready for the hard work.

heap the logs

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Happy Halloween to all my monster friends. I’m not dressing up this year but if I were, I’d probably be Emily the Strange, or if I had a great costume, Elizabeth Bennet.
I love Halloween but hate the day after. On November 1, it always seems as though the dark has firmly gripped us – and the streets seem empty, littered with dead leaves and detritus left from the festivities the night before. Still, though, we celebrate. Miss L’s school had their annual Trunk or Treat in the parking lot and we all showed up with candy and decorations. I dressed Finn up with an Under the Sea theme, $20 worth of decorations from Amazon and our old fish tank full of candy. To my great excitement, I won Runner Up, and got a trophy pumpkin and a gift bag.

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Miss L’s dad and his partner K also came, and their Abandon Ship theme was funny and impressive and won the Principal’s Choice.
We all stood together to get our picture taken for the PTA, with the school mascot and principal, and Miss L in the middle. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of tremendous gratitude that we have overcome whatever problems we might have had and can do things as a family for her. I can’t speak for them, but I really enjoy the mutually supportive and understanding relationship we all share. Maybe we’re strange, but I still like my ex-husband and I like his girlfriend, too. We have all worked hard to get along and be kind to each other and it gives me a great sense of accomplishment that we have succeeded so far.

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The weekend was busy, but there was time spent with my other quasi-family, Jax and his kids, cheering on his son at the Regional cross-country meet and his daughter at her ensemble performance for a Halloween program at a local nature center. Miss L had a great time and to top it off, Michigan beat “little brother” Michigan State. I celebrated with a special manicure.

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November looms tomorrow and I am excited and intimidated to report that I have decided to participate in NaNoWriMo – national novel writing month. I always swore that I wouldn’t dabble in any of these cheesy acronym things. However, the thought of being motivated to write every day, and have a goal of 50,000 words in a month, and tools to help keep me accountable, excited me this year. So we will see. I will keep you updated on my word count periodically throughout the month and of course a full progress report at the end – how many words I achieved, etc.

Enjoy your All Hallow’s Eve….

All Souls’ Night, 1917

Hortense King Flexner

You heap the logs and try to fill
The little room with words and cheer,
But silent feet are on the hill,
Across the window veiled eyes peer.
The hosts of lovers, young in death,
Go seeking down the world to-night,
Remembering faces, warmth and breath—
And they shall seek till it is light.
Then let the white-flaked logs burn low,
Lest those who drift before the storm
See gladness on our hearth and know
There is no flame can make them warm.

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autumnal things

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10-2016_fall

Life has been a whirlwind of fall activities and general busyness, mixed in with angry cats still peeing on things, flu shots, hating Donald Trump, and wishing the weather were different. You know, the usual. The weather, at least, has finally started to cooperate, with rain and gloom (YASSSS!)  but it was unseasonably warm for several days and Miss L’s first pumpkin melted into slime on the porch. Luckily, one of our fall activities is our annual orchard trip with my brother and family tomorrow, so hopefully we can pick up another.

Other fall activities have included Girl Scout Core Camp (which I live tweeted – link in my sidebar), the book fair at school (I ran the cash register for a shift and realized how much happier I would be if I could get paid what I earn at Widget Central to do that as my real job), and preparing for Trunk or Treat next week. I’d planned on making all of Finn’s decorations out of crepe paper and construction paper and posterboard but who am I kidding. I can barely remember to take out the trash and I have a rotted pumpkin on my porch. I spent $20 on some preprinted cutouts on Amazon and Bob’s your uncle – done.

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After my recent running ennui, I am starting to get back into the rhythm of heading out for a few miles every couple of days or so. No pressure. No watch. Tricking myself into liking it again.

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the 5k that should have been a half. you can’t see him, but my dad is over on the left in that triumphant finish line pic, just out of the frame.

I’m also knitting a lot. My mom’s cowl is almost done and I actually knitted up a cute little Christmas tree decoration out of forest green alpaca. It was still on the needles waiting for bind-off when Sarge, one of the angry peeing cats mentioned above, rummaged in my knitting bag one day. He found it on it’s very attractive wooden needle and dragged it out of the bag, around the house until the needle fell out, the stitches unraveled, and he drowned what was left of it in his water dish. That was discouraging – not gonna lie.
He and his brother Emmett went to the vet last week for a checkup and a refill of their prescription. This was a traumatic experience for all of us. Getting two angry cats to the vet is no joke. They each had to have blood drawn…Emmett did fine, and then they took Sarge back. Miss L and I waited in the examining room without much concern. Sarge is pretty laid-back and during his last vet visit, he charmed all of the nurses. I assured them that he would be easy. After about five minutes, however, we heard a blood-curdling yowl that echoed through the entire cinder block office. Sarge came back with a walleyed nurse, gave us all a dirty look, sat down on the floor, licked his butt, and shook his paw until his pink bandage flew off. We got home, got everyone settled in their separate rooms, and the pharmacy called to advise me cheerfully that the chicken liver flavored feline Prozac is back ordered indefinitely. That’s just great, I thought. So for awhile longer, we live in chaos. The bright side of this is that I found a great recipe for stain removal on Pinterest.

So that’s the update. I hope things are well in your neck of the woods.

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october hunter’s supermoon as seen from gs camp and as photographed on my crap iphone camera.

it’s a living

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I’ve had a headache all week and a decided lack of enthusiasm for everything except watching Season 1 of Nashville (which I checked out from my library; I feel as though I am missing some crucial plot points with the scratched and skipping discs but can’t be fussed) and reading the third book of Justin Cronin’s Passage trilogy, The City of Mirrors. The cats are being exceptionally troublesome since their Prozac prescription ran out and I am living in a welter of closed doors, relocated litter boxes, and rolls of paper towel to clean up Sarge’s enraged marking of various completely inappropriate surfaces.

Some days I feel like it is a huge accomplishment to get up, shower, dress up, pack lunches (me & Miss L), put dinner in the crockpot, feed the cats, do school dropoff, and drive 40 minutes to Ann Arbor just to sit in an office for 8 more hours listening to familiar gaits passing by my door – the Warranty Guy’s squeaky right shoe, the Chemists’s elephantine gait…work out, eat a sad microwaved lunch, and then drive 40 minutes home. How do people DO THIS THEIR WHOLE LIVES? How have I DONE THIS FOR MOST OF MY ADULT LIFE?

I feel like I am waiting for something to happen and I fully know that when and if something DOES actually happen, I’m probably going to like it even less than I like this period of crabby stasis. I do poorly with change and the only things that could break me out of the generally soporific routine of my life would likely be very unenjoyable. I think I am pondering these concepts due to the imminent fact of my service award luncheon at Widget Central tomorrow. They are giving me my 10-year certificate and this is annoying because I’ve actually been employed by them for 14 years, but they don’t count my first two because I quit and had to be re-hired by Widget Central Australia when we relocated there. This means that I was screwed out of a chance at a pension, and also took a hit with my vacation accruals, but I’ve come to deal with that and will try not to announce it loudly when I stand up and receive my award. The truly staggering thing – and the thing that I really feel proud of myself for – is that I have managed to retain some level of interest in widgets for 14 years. I have definitely earned that free cafeteria-catered lunch of Gordon’s vegetable lasagna and my choice of gift from the service award catalog (I selected a telescope which was given to Miss L for her birthday and which we have yet to assemble). Sweet Jesus help me to have another 20-odd years left in me.

a funny thing happened on the way to the half marathon

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10-2016_empire-bluff

…I decided I just didn’t want to do it.

It wasn’t that simple, of course. I had a problematic training cycle and during my last long run, the shin splint pain that ultimately led to last year’s stress fracture was back in full force. Everything hurt. My times were slow and my recovery was worse.

During the week before the run, I went back and forth. Some mornings I woke up thinking, ‘yeah, I’ll power through it.’ Other mornings I felt simply exasperated and swore that I wouldn’t run at all. Miss L and I drove up north on Thursday night and spent a damp and drizzly Friday with my parents, hiking in the Sleeping Bear and book shopping in Traverse City. At some point, I realized that I just didn’t have the half in me, and it was as much mental as physical, and I decided to run the 5k.

When I first started running in 2010, the love of it hit me like a ton of bricks and I dropped many things that I’d previously loved because nothing felt as important as that love. I left off knitting and blogging, notably. For a few years I was highly motivated and bettered my times in every race. Then the injuries started mounting, and the motivation began to wane. At this point in my life, I still love running, but I love other things, too, and I want to be able to do them as much or more.

My folks and Miss L were my cheering section and I was happy that my run would only take a half-hour or so and that they could wait for me. Miss L played on the playground at the Empire beach and my dad was the first person I saw when I came into the homestretch. An hour later, I was showered and caffeinated and warm, and I’d set out for another hike.

I have long wanted to accomplish the Trail Trekkers Challenge, a program in which you hike all the Sleeping Bear trails in 1 year (over 100 miles). After the 5k, I had donned my orange cap to warn off trigger happy hunters and was out on the Windy Moraine trail. Coincidentally, this trail ran along 109 for a stretch, across the road from the Heritage Trail, where the marathon and half-marathon were still going on. As I hiked happily, rain dripping from the spicy smelling trees, I heard stragglers in the race across the road yelling at each other and every now and then I glimpsed a sweating, staggering participant. The forest was very green and wet, without much fall color yet, and I was extremely happy with my choice.

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just get this over with

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These days, I’m doing better at knitting than I am at running. Or dieting. Or housework. I think I’d better stop now before I really start to depress myself.

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I had hoped for some free time this weekend, to do some things around the house and yard, to get my run in, and to try my hand at some homemade pizza dough. This free time never materialized. I had a sick headache for most of Saturday and spent the day on a rain-soaked soccer field watching a high school tournament – then Jax & I had to hustle over to a friend’s house to watch college football. We got in a little later than I normally would have, for the night before a long run, but I woke up Sunday without a headache and ready to run. Because I was on Jax’s side of town, I’d staked out my long run in a somewhat unfamiliar area. I’d picked the trail, I had my handheld water bottle, my running belt, my Audiobook…the location is really beautiful but about 2 miles into my run, I realized that I’d misjudged the trail surface. I’d sort of thought that it would be a fairly groomed trail, similar to those in my local metroparks or DNR parks, but this one got pretty rough.

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I stuck with it for almost 4 miles, thinking to myself that it was good training for the trail half-marathon that I signed up for in November (more on that later) but it quickly became evident that on that terrain, I wasn’t going to get in my miles. So on the next crossing, I diverted onto the road and did 5 on hard-packed dirt. It was late in the morning and the sun was getting hot. I stopped to refill my water bottle at the campground, with all the little old ladies waiting in line for the showers while their hubbies loaded up the RV’s (it really just sort of looked like a big parking lot with fire pits). I checked the map, and headed back. Unfortunately, in order to get back my car, I had to plunge back into the woods, and I finished up my last 3 running / walking on narrow, winding trails, some with exposed rocks and tree roots, switchbacks and boggy areas, some areas where the trail narrowed so much that I could barely see it.

All in all, 12.2 miles, all done more slowly than I’d like, but I got the miles in. Nothing went quite the way I wanted it to this weekend. My house still needs to be cleaned, no pizza dough, I didn’t get nearly enough lazy reclusive time to be a hermit, and all for kind of a shitty and disappointing long run. Life is all about choices. I know this is where a pro blogger would switch into chirping about how great it felt to finish and how worth it is always is, but this feeling always comes for me at the end of a training cycle – I get sick of getting miles in, having to run when I don’t want to, having to hit paces and block off hours of time for it when there are so many other things that I could be doing.

 

dieting.

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lunchtime run + meditation time at the botanical gardens; treasure the weather while it lasts.

So I’m back counting calories and steps with my trusty My Fitness Pal. I launched quite a diet & exercise offensive earlier this summer, in order to be able to wear a bikini on our vacation in North Carolina, but with several weeks of tracking, I really only lost about 3 lbs. I was relieved to give it up after vacation and go back to eating and drinking whatever I damn well felt like. Unfortunately, this has resulted in the 3 lbs coming back on, as well as a little extra.

I’ve always had a good metabolism and weight was never much of a worry for me until about the last year and a half. When I started running a lot in 2010, my body changed, became much leaner. Then, after several years, everything evened out  my body got used to all of that running and exercising, and adjusted accordingly. I’ve gone from, at my lowest, most unhealthy point, about 20 lbs under my ideal weight to about 10 lbs over that ideal weight since I turned 40.

Well, I thought to myself, training for my half ought to help this situation. Turns out it hasn’t.

Portion control, meal preparation and planning, and careful assessment of my nutritional mix plus daily exercise – that’s what works for me. I use Map My Run and My Fitness Pal to track my calories and plan my meals. I like seeing my daily food diary laid out so I can ensure that I am getting what I need – protein, whole grains, fruits & veggies, and enough water. Map My Run syncs with My Fitness Pal so when I log workouts, I see the calories come off my day, and I can make adjustments.

The problem with all of this is that food equals happiness and comfort and satisfaction for me. I don’t eat a lot of junk food. I don’t eat fast food more than once every couple of months, I don’t drink soda, I don’t eat bags of potato chips or cookies. But I do love cheese, and if I want to smash up an avocado and eat it on toast or with crackers, or mixed in pasta with red pepper flakes and pesto and olive oil, I want to be able to do that. I love red wine and pizza and bread, and after I run at lunchtime, I like wandering down to the cafeteria and having the chef whip me up a veggie and cheese quesadilla with a big handful of thick kettle chips. I like ice cream and pie a couple times a week. I feel like my mental issue is that I’m not a terrible eater – by and large I like healthy things, but I like them ALL THE TIME. In order to succeed in losing weight, I have to change my mindset from seeing food as self-love to seeing it as fuel, which is extremely dissatisfying.
But things must be done and so for the foreseeable future I will be packing lunch for myself (I don’t love processed food, but a Healthy Choice or Lean Cuisine at lunch helps keep me on track – typically I only choose the vegetarian options, and actually a couple of them – these and these – are pretty good) and planning my meals on my little phone apps and trying to move more and drink more water and not turn into a shrieking harpy because I can’t have my Dove chocolate or large pour of cab sav.

labor day

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Although I generally hold a low opinion of humanity en masse, at times I can’t deny our basic sameness. It amazes me sometimes that the things that make me happy make so many other people happy, too; different backgrounds, values, personalities, cultures, and yet, this long weekend, we fought for elbow room in the same places to do the same things. We were drawn to blue sky and shimmering expanses of water. We were drawn to sunsets and the sight of the milky way over a cooling sand dune. We were drawn to shallow brown rivers warm under a bright sun.

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There’s some aspect of our humanity that is drawn to these things, that feeds off these sights and feelings and sounds, we’re similarly nourished by them even though we might not know why or even that we are; we just know we want to be close to them.
After this weekend, Up North will start to return to its off season. The crowds will dissipate and the hours of sunlight will decrease. The woods and the water will become cold and the seasonal businesses, the farm stands and ice cream parlors, will shutter for the long, drifted winter. I sat on the beach off Peterson Road and thought that it was almost unbelievable that in just a few short weeks, the hot sun will be gone. No more bright towels and dogs in the waves, toddlers with sand pails and adults drowsing under umbrellas – just a stretch of grey, icy shore under a slate grey sky, scoured by wind and snow. There’s something deeply satisfying about that cycle.