Big Sighs and Chunky Thighs

I am a chicken! I just wanted to go ahead and put that out there. I have a pretty adventurous spirit by nature I think but that doesn't mean that I'm not generally scared sh*tless in everything that I do. I'm afraid of social situations with people I don't know. I'm afraid of roller coasters, airplanes, water, rats... You get my drift. But more than anything I'm afraid of failure. I'm desperately afraid of never being good at anything. I'm pretty average at just about everything. I was never an exceptional student. I danced for many years and was always okay at that too. I like to write, decorate, play games. But I wasn't born with nor have I ever developed any particular talent. I'm good at some things but have never been great at anything. I think I'm a good wife and a good mother but in all honesty I could stand to be better at both of those things as well. I'm even an average height of 5 feet 4 1/2 inches and my appearance is pretty average as well. It's an odd place to be, in the middle. And coincidentally I'm a middle child too. This path through the center, walking safely along, never trying too hard but trying just enough to keep from being noticed, it's quite a comfortable spot. Right down the aisle, never leaning one way or the other - makes me wonder what I could have done had I ever really, really tried. And that brings me to tonight! Tonight, I looked down at my naked thighs and once again, took a deep breath and let out a big sigh, grabbed a hunk of my chunky outer thigh, examined it and steadfastly declared to myself that it was never going to change. I'm at a healthy weight and my bmi is average, of course and by most people's standards I have no right to complain. But like a lot of people I'm sorely dissatisfied with my body (especially my cellulite ridden thighs) and all I want is to "fix" it! And I feel like I've been trying to fix it. I've been running my butt off for the last couple of months and have seen NO change in my body what-so-ever. And then this evening as I let go of the hunk of leg I held in my hand I realized that perhaps I haven't been trying hard enough. Perhaps the real problem is that I don't know how to really give it my all. Maybe I'm the reason that I'm not seeing results. I dearly love to blame my problems on things other than myself. I like the point of reconciling that something is "just fine" the way it is, or that things "won't ever change". It's the middle of the road approach that's kept me at status quo all of my life. But if I'm ever going to see a difference in myself I have to stop being afraid of the posibility of failure. I can't say that I've ever really failed at anything because I've never really tried all that hard to begin with... And that is SO much worse. I'm so scared of never amounting to anything that I don't even bother to entertain possibilities anymore. I'd like to say that I'll do something about this right away and that from now on things will be different but the truth is, I just don't know. I might never see a change in my thighs. I might never amount to anything. I could very well be average for the rest of my life. And that would be "just fine", right?

As Fast As You Can - Run! Run!

Every week it seems I'm learning more, running more, feeling more, feeling better! A couple of weeks ago (not sure how long exactly) after watching an episode of 'Real Sports' on HBO, entirely by accident, I decided to take the advice of the guest of the show and ditch my running shoes. I had been unable to participate in any sort of physical activity for a week because of terrible, pounding, joint shocking knee pain. And I was ready to give it another shot when I saw this show and something "clicked". I figured after the devastating blows to my knee and my pride, I certainly wouldn't be any worse off if I tried running without the expensive shoes. So to protect my feet I strapped on an old pair of water wading shoes with flat, pliable soles and took off. It was definitely a new experience for me. I felt a little different after my run but the real testament came the morning after. For the first time since I began this incredible journey I woke up, put my feet on the floor and walked! NO PAIN! I knew then and there that this "barefoot running" idea couldn't be all bad. Since then I've run in my water wading shoes and you couldn't pay me enough to strap on another pair of sneakers and hit the pavement in them. I believe they not only contributed to my injuries, but I believe they would have kept me from being able to continue running. And since that first day without them the only pain I've felt has been where it's supposed to be... In my sore, tired, achy muscles. My calves ache and man alive my butt does too! But then again, when you're building a muscle, it's supposed to be sore. You don't strengthen your joints by pounding your bones and grinding them together by striking your heel into pavement! It makes far too much sense to me now that the way our bodies are designed to move is actually the RIGHT way! We don't need fancy $140 shoes to help us hit the ground a certain way because we do it the right way naturally, without all that cushion and mesh and gel and whatever else they put in those rubber monsterosities. But that's enough of my shoe rant. I have some things brewing in my brain that I hope to have sorted out well enough to contribute to this blog before leaving with my family on our vacation to the mountains. I have things I need to say about running, but I don't know if I have the words yet. And quite honestly, I'm not sure that I'm ready to feed them to print. Meanwhile, run run!

Lazy is As Lazy Does

I've said more times than I care to recollect that "When I die I'm coming back as a house cat." And I mean it. There are moments when I look at their fat, peaceful, lazy, slovenly, sloppy lives and want to push them off of whatever they're laying on so that I can stop wishing I had their life for one gosh darn second! Even as I'm typing this, my two lazy beasts of burden are snuggling in the chair next to me. Their names are Hemilaya and Jack-Jack. They're beautiful, handsome tabby boys. Both have a very sweet and peaceful nature. They're patient with the children, with us, and even with our enormous dogs. Jack-Jack especially. He lets Beauregard, the giant Weimaraner smother him, bite his neck and lay all over him while they nap on my husband's lap. I can't decide if it's because he's so sweet or if it's because he's so lazy. Hemilaya (the one curled up in the picture above) is fickle and a little temperamental. Every irritation he feels shows up on his face and in his voice. He doesn't hesitate to complain when you're not doing something fast enough. If he wants food, love or to be let outside you'd better be Johnny-on-the-spot or else your ears will suffer. I can't help but find the amusement in our entire family's willingness to appease these grossly obese creatures. They serve no great purpose although they do capture the occasional mole or mouse. They're hopelessly lazy and their fur gets on everything (especially clean clothes and bed sheets because they immediately lay on anything that's just come out of the dryer). They whine and cry if they don't get their way and we've spent countless amounts of money on them because they were too stupid not to get their paws caught in a dog's mouth. But somehow, in some form our lives wouldn't be the same without them. They bring joy and humor to our little world and they serve as a constant reminder that I wish I believed in reincarnation.

I Hear Voices

I believe that most of us at some point in our adult lives stop and take stock of it. We look around and look inside ourselves and wonder how in the hell we got here. Three kids, 8 cars, 4 houses, 15 trips to Disney World and one long damn car ride to a relative's house in Indiana later we have NO idea who we've become because it's been so long since we've heard our own voices that the "who" in you barely registers with you any longer. Who you are hasn't mattered in so long that you yourself start to think it never really did matter to begin with. I had that exact thought today as I found myself staring into space in a deathly quiet house. My mind soared through a tunnel of open space and thought and when I finally snapped out of it I scared the shit out of myself! I was actually inside my own head with NO interference of any kind and what I felt was astonishing. I haven't been that close to "me" in ages. I don't even know what I was thinking about but it felt great. And I had a quiet moment of freedom take hold of me and it reminded me that the "who" in Who I Am really is important. I still matter. I had forgotten that. I've been lost in this big world of big opinions, big ideas and big houses for so long that being silent makes me uncomfortable. Sitting in a quiet room with no television, phone, computer, book, or even so much as a cross-word puzzle causes me such anxiety that I find it difficult to breathe. I can't remember the last time before today that I had experienced a moment like that. But it did convince me that I want and need more of those moments. Even if other people don't "get" me, even if I someday find myself friendless, if I never find my dream job or never get another pat on the back or 'job well done' I have to find a way to be okay with Heather. She has to be enough for me; Even if she's not good enough for anyone else, she should be good enough for me. And I hope that who you are, in those rare and quiet moments alone with just yourself, is good enough for you too...