Mistakes Are Proof That You Are Trying

I have just made my way up from the belly of the beast.  The beast being the (somewhat) abandoned basement floor of the building and its belly being the gym.  See why it’s abandoned?  However, no matter just how neglected that lower level is, it’s nowhere near as jilted as this blog.

When perusing my past posts this morning, I discovered that in May was the last time in which I wrote.  May!?  How can this possibly be!?  I’ve fallen victim to the “tomorrow” or “I’ll do it later” mentality, all the while, the passing days grew in momentum.

  • I vaguely remember writing that 2017 . . .  this is going to be the year that I make a concentrated effort to take pictures during events.
    • This has not been an entirely successful endeavor, but A for effort?  Do I get half credit?  My lack of photos is mainly due to the several events I have run alone.  However, I do have a handful of photos:
      • A before photo of my best friend, Callie, and I at the Safe Voices 5K to End Domestic Violence
      • A selfie of myself (duh) after Color Me Rad
      • A before and after photo of Callie and I at Tough Mountain.
    • Considering I have ONE before picture, ONE after picture, and ONE before AND after set of photographs, this is clearly a progression in the right direction.  If only I could hone in on and perfect the craft of consistency.  However, that is another battle.
  • When I began this blog, I pledged to lose those pesky last 10lbs., thus leaving me sitting prettily at my goal weight.
    • I still have those pesky 10 lbs. that I would like to lose.  Over the course of the past few months, I’ve been half-assing it fairly regularly.  Half credit for consistency in this scenario?
      • Though I am NOT where I planned to be all of those months ago, I am not beating myself up over my “failure” because it’s not a failure.  My lack of “success” is a mere bump in the road along what has been a long journey.
      • I am simply trying harder and recommitting myself to the following: drink more water, track calories (-1000 deficit), and stay active.
      • I am finally at a place where I do not define myself by that number featured on the scale.  Though I do indeed have a number goal, and though I am disappointed I’m not quite there yet, I measure my successes in other ways . . .
        • . . . I can now run a 5k without stopping / walking.  At one point, running .25 nonstop was an accomplishment exceeding any other.
        • . . . I’ve maintained my weight, and though I’ve experienced fluctuations, I have not gained.
        • . . . My clothes fit properly and are flattering.
        • . . . I’ve adopted habits such as using the gym for half of my lunch hour.  Remember the quip about the belly of the beast?  I’m slaying said beast.

So, why the lengthy absence from Cupcakes and Canter?  Two reasons.  1). I’ve struggled the past few months with making time.  This struggle is not only applicable to writing, but it’s something I’ve faced with just . . . ev-er-y-thing.  2). There is a part of my psyche that did not want to face my lack of triumphs; once written down, said lacks feel more real than when floating around lackadaisically in my brain.

So, what has happened between May and today’s date in August?

  • I’ve run 3 – 5k events, improving my overall time by 5 minutes.
  •  I ran in the Law Enforcement Torch Run, and even though I had to climb into what I have lovingly dubbed as the “struggle bus,” it gave me confidence in my ability to put myself out there and try new things.
    • In my defense, it was more than a 10k, the pace was a 7-8 min. mile, the shirts didn’t breathe, and it was hot. as. balls and humid.  Am I going to participate in the LETR next year?  Why, YES.  Yes, I am . . . because I know that the evidence van struggle bus will be there to pick me up if I fall, or in this case, just slow way, way down.  Furthermore, I felt relieved that no one made fun of me, nor was I the only one who needed the four-wheeled assist.
  • I completed Tough Mountain, a 4 mile obstacle course with 21 obstacles.
  • Most importantly, despite all of my self-perceived failures that are really non-failures, discouragements, and disappointments, I’ve kept trying.  I’ve never given up.
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Safe Voices 5K
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To Do: Tough Mountain
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To Done: Tough Mountain

 

 

 

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Aversion to April

I may be developing an aversion to the month of April, not the giraffe.  I find giraffes to be particularly delightful.  But I digress . . .

I took April 13th and 14th off from work with the intention of, for lack of better words, getting my shit together.  The getting my shit together umbrella was to include: start running again, get all the housework caught up, catch up on swap-bot swaps, return sendsomething.net mail, catch up on pen pal letters, get the grocery shopping done, etc.  So, what happened?  For the most part, I nailed it!  Thursday the 13th – Easter Sunday I achieved my Fitbit goal each day, the house looked as immaculate as it can during projects season, and I finished the perler portrait I created for my best friend.  I was also a snail mail creating machine.  And then . . . Monday happened . . .  dun dun dun (that is to be read to the tune of ominous music).

During the warmer months, I become far more active.  Therefore, I sweat considerably more.  So, I tried a new facial cleanser that would help combat all the wonderful side effects of sweating heavily.  Well, Nicolas Cage and John Travolta have got nothing on me (this is a Face/Off reference for all of you pop culture gurus).  The purifying cleanser, its accompanying renewing toner, and the repairing lotion caused a severe allergic reaction; my eyes were swollen closed for several days, and it essentially burned my face off.  My face is now as smooth as a brand new baby’s bum, but that is because my original face sloughed off throughout the week.  I missed the entire week of work because not only was I considerably hideous in appearance, my level of discomfort was . . . well, uncomfortable.  Throw in the side effects of a body pumped chock-full of Benadryl and Claritin . . . that was . . . not what I would consider a fantastic experience either.  SO, despite all of my efforts to become and remain physically active and productive, it was short lived.

Today is Sunday the 23rd, and I return to work tomorrow.  I was gung-ho for today because I fully intended to get some raking done and add some miles to my ASICS.  That was until the most recent mishap . . .

Just moments ago, my parents’ boxer, Gracie, got a case of what we have lovingly dubbed “the zoomies.”  Zoomies def: when a boxer runs and runs and runs, at full speed, in circles around you.  It’s what Gracie does, especially during spring, and it is normally quite manageable, but today, she strayed from the circular pattern and tugged so hard on her leash that  I was down before I even knew I was going down.  Nothing on my body is broken, and my face was not harmed, but I do have some lovely parting prizes just for playing.  On my left hand, my palm and pinky and ring fingers are . . . torn open.  My left elbow, right knee, ankles, and toes are scraped and bloody.  The grand prize, however, is my left leg.  From knee to shin is a compilation of scrapes, skinless patches, and bloodiness.  I shall be the proud owner of some bad-ass bruises in a matter of hours.

Now may be an appropriate time to begin concocting a fiblet about a roller derby  match gone awry.  I mean, getting these injuries from one of the gentlest, most loving dogs I have ever known is just the sort of irony that quite accurately depicts what it is like to be me, but let’s be honest . . . it makes for a rather anticlimactic story.  The point of this entire reminiscence with the past week and a half of my life?  No matter how “together” I get myself, and no matter how hard I work toward goals, small and large alike, these sorts of things constantly creep up, or in this case, ZOOM in.  So, I may not end up going running today because . . . well, OW.  But I’m not discouraged.  Once I picked myself up off the pavement and took an inventory of all of my still fully intact bones, I laughed!  I laughed and laughed and laughed . . . because this is what it is like to be me, and after 32 years, it’s better to accept that this is just the way it is and likely always will be.

Life can only knock me down, but it cannot hold me down.  It is up to me to get back up. 🙂

SO, perhaps a slow, gentle walk with my own dog is in the near future.  I can still get out there, I just need to modify my original intentions.  🙂