Rs and Reminders

A few weeks ago, we explored the immense and gorgeous FDR memorial in DC.  Turns out that the FDR memorial is awesome, in the truest sense of the word: awe-inspiring and extremely powerful. The lovely C suggested that all our representatives in Washington should regularly be made to experience the gardens, the paths and the words planted there.  A homework assignment to remind those in power of what's important.  Which is brilliant, of course.  Somebody legislate that shit el pronto.

The memorial itself is very tactile, and designed so that people of all ranges of physical ability can experience it. Which I also love. There is stone and greenery and water and art aplenty.  But the most striking pieces of the memorial are the words.  Quotes from the 32nd president adorn nearly all of of the erected structures.  Lemme tell you, whoever selected those words did a really amazing job.  I was continually floored by the honesty of those words, and how accurately they seemed to capture a number of very complex human sentiments. Basically I wanted to come back every day and sit in the gardens, read books and do homework with FDR. The hope being that if I surround myself with greatness I too shall be great, or at least produce something great, like say, my my personal statement for internship (now in its 15th iteration). Or a great neuropsych report.  Because who doesn't want to write a great one of those.

Near the end of the memorial, this quote appears large, stretched out on granite against a backdrop of trees.

"The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be out doubts of today.  Let us move forward with strong and active faith."

I was floored.  I'd never heard this quote before, though the sentiment has been presented to me so often that you'd think I'd get it through my thick skull.  Standing in front of this stone wall, amidst the trees and the Potomac, I felt grace, gratitude, and frankly, God, rip through my heart.  Sometimes even I know when the universe is trying to send me a message. In that moment, all I wanted to do was sit on the stone floor and stare at the wall until all the gravity of the sentiment and its meaning had been absorbed, assured that when I moved from that spot I would go forth into the world free of doubt and forged in faith.

But we had been walking for like, eight hours.  It was time to go home and play Rock Band.

Believe me, I am self-aware enough to know that it would be advantageous to have that quote permanently inked on my arm as daily reminder to get out of my head and over myself. But since visible tattoos are not on the table for moi at the moment, I alone am responsible for reminding myself to let go of doubt in favor of faith, and push forward in the hope that tomorrow will be better than today, despite my inability to predict it or prevent it from happening.

This week I've been doing the same Couch to 5K run over and over again, because it's been killing me every time.  Yesterday, after being bolstered by my ability to make an incredibly arcane and stupid stats program do what I wanted it to, I took to the treadmill and ran it yet again.  And just like before, it got difficult and I got tired.  Usually I find myself trying to anticipate the little voice that tells me it's ok to "slow down and walk." But until it comes, the conversation in my head usually goes something like this:

I can't do this.
It's too much.
Why can't this be easier?
I hate running.
Eff you, skinny biatches for whom this is the "easy" run.
I suck at this.
I can't do it.
I can't do it.
I can't do it.

When it gets tough like this, at least in the workout world, I try to channel my dear friend, the redoubtable R, who recently biked across the entirety of the US of A to get to internship in Tacoma, WA.  I recognize that we are very different people (and that he's just a little bit crazy, which I love about him), but I can't help but think of him when that anti-Thomas-the-Tank-Engine shite comes rolling through my mind.  If R can bike 100 miles a day with a bleeding arse and a busted knee, I can put one foot in front of the other. So I do.  And every time a thought like that came through, I just crossed it out. I can't do it. Nope, not stopping there.  Moving on.

And low and behold, it was the first time all week that I got through the run without needing an extra break and without conviction that I would keel over at any given moment. Thanks, R. ♥ And FDR.

Sunday (too much) Funday

I love Sundays.

I'm guessing they are pretty big fans of Sundays too.

You may know this about me.  There are a number of reasons for this, not least of which is how I get to spend a good chunk of my Sunday: with my church peeps.  This is a set of undeniably awesome people who get together to do some if not all of the following activities:

• laugh
• goof off
• sing
• hug
• play
• eat

Yesterday was unique for the latter in that it was the first Sunday of the "coffee house" series, where we gather folks in the church rectory for coffee instead of funding the chain coffee shop down the street.  This is great, because we get to do all of the aforementioned activities with free coffee and treats.  The problem, of course, is the treats part of the equation.  Sunday is often my day of rest -- well, not really, as Sundays are usually pretty busy.  Perhaps it's more accurate to says that Sunday is my day of sanctioned laziness.  And prior to Fit Anniversary, this also often meant a day of sanctioned crappy eating.  Especially because there were often free treats to be had.  I anticipated this happening, so I deployed some of my strongest pro-dieting tactics.  Number 1: make delectable treats and then give them away.  This strategy was successfully executed with a little help from some world-famous Molly Squares, recipe courtesy of the vivacious K who swore me to secrecy many years ago.  Suffice it to say: they are mind-blowingly good.  And not at all good for you.  So I delight in enjoying one and setting the rest loose on unsuspecting parishioners.  Which I did.  Win.  Number 2: busy thyself with things other than eating.  Yesterday it was also part of my job description so that was convenient.  The youth group kids and I helped some younguns decorate pumpkins.  Really, what happened is we encouraged each other and others nearby to play with glitter, stickers, feathers, pipe cleaners and pumpkins. Which kept me busy and thus also from stuffing my face.  Number 3:  talk instead of eat.  That part was easy as there were plenty of people to talk to instead of chowing down on the requisite goodies present at the coffee house.  

These strategies worked fairly well until the end of the coffee house when the summarily lovely S pawned off a whole mess of leftover food on me by activating an annoying (admittedly overactive but extremely entrenched) reflex: guilt.  

"If you don't take it, I'm just going to throw it away."
"No! ...really?"
"Oh yes, it's going in the garbage unless you want it."
"Well, 'want' is a rather strong word..."
"Ok, I'll toss it then."
"Wait!"

And that's how I came home with 10 hot dogs,  24 veggie dogs, 16 buns, a pound of macaroni salad, a package of shredded cheese, an unopened  bottle of relish, cut veggies, french onion dip, and an entire oversized bag of ruffle kettle chips.  Contrary to what the broke-as-a-joke-grad-student part of my brain might believe, food that is free of charge is not free of calories.  While, yes, I did cave and bring home a plethora of food that was not needed, I managed to confine my indulgences to veggies and dip (ok, and some chips) while watching football.  

My strategies for earlier in the day allowed me to feel slightly less guilty when we took friends who we hadn't seen since our wedding out for a truly Baltimore experience: piles of steamed crabs, hushpuppies, corn fritters and a very creamy crab pretzel shared between the four of us.  Between the beer and the Old Bay, I was certain that Monday's weigh in wasn't going to be pretty.  In fact, given my tendency to overdo things in the spirit of Sunday Funday, I was seriously contemplating moving the day of reckoning to anything OTHER than Monday.  

But my beloved J peer-pressured me into going this morning, despite numerous excuses and much whining on my part.  And the news was good! J is down 1.8 and I'm down 0.4.  We'll take it!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

...and while you're at it, take all this other crap with you too.

I apologize in advance for my grumblings.  In my part of the world today, it is wet and dreary, and I in turn am listless and achy.

Getting Older Unfun Fact #58: If you ever hurt a part of your body whilst you were growing up, thought it healed and forgot about it, the rain will remind you.

A combination of this lovely weather, actually running on a regular basis (woot), spraining an ankle every other week all those years in volleyball (not to mention the time during West Side Story when I slipped on the ice at a cast party, effed up my ankle and still had to dance on it for two months) has left me with creaky bones and feeling whiny.  Oh, and I'm blocked in the writing department, which is making me really whiny, because I can't afford it.  Internship apps go out in t-minus 29 days, and I've got a slew of cover letters, edits, and essays to write. Not to mention, you know, my job, which requires me to make edits to prep manuscripts for publication, aka: writing.

Well, I'm not having any of it. Sorry, world. And readers. There will be no lexical gems in this post.  It's as if some impish spirit shoved a wad of gum into the gears of my brain, and now I'm mired in my stuckness.

You won't regret it. Promise.

There is an absurdly large part of me that wants to pack up, go home, park myself in front of the TV with a big bowl of popcorn and watch season 2 of Downton Abbey (incidentally, everyone should watch that show.  I don't even like period drama and can safely say that show is the shiz-nit).  Come to think of it, that may happen anyway, as popcorn is well within my points budget for today, though I will have to fight with J for reign of the television  And rather than just continuing to feel badly all day, constantly losing focus and then feeling guilty for not getting anything done, I'm more interested in doing something to feel better and getting on with my life.

Actually, this is a fairly novel approach for me. Not so long ago, the typical course of events in response to writers'/responsibility/getting crap done block would be to:

1. Try harder.
2. Try even harder.
3. Stare blankly into space while chastising myself for not doing more/better.
4. Lament my failure to accomplish things.
5. Feel guilty.

Of course, the result here is exactly where I was in the beginning: not getting anything done. Only now I feel guilty and bad about myself, which makes it even harder to get anything done.  Ridiculous.  Not to mention entirely unhelpful.  

So in the interest of Fit Anniversary, and because I already gymed it up this morning, I'm trying a healthier tactic. I will go home, I will make the aforementioned popcorn (which is truly not that bad for you...also, I'm obsessed with my whirley pop), and allow myself to be stuck for a bit.  When I'm not feeling so stuck anymore, I'll try to do some things, write some things or clean some things.  Whatever I do, I will endeavor to actively avoid steps 3-5.  

And since I can't stop it from raining, I'll just have to sit with that as well.