The Important Thing is Not to Retreat

After seeing beach photos of myself from my Marco trip, I decided that I've allowed myself to lose my edge.  It's easy to get sloppy, be too forgiving.  Especially when one is an emotional overeater, and food is the drug of choice to dull the senses.  Not good.  Not smart.  Enough. 

Ironically, the first several days of vacation I ate very little, and very clean.  It was liberating.  I ate what I wanted, smart choices, but tasteful and filling.  I wanted to be able to enjoy my afternoon beverages of choice, rather than fill up on a bunch of carbs and calories from junk food.  It was a good trade-off.  But then, as always, the last several days of vacation I indulged in a string of damning debauchery, and I've not been able to pull myself together ever since. 

Historically, July is the worst month for me in trying to eat sensibly, exercise regularly, and maintain a respectful degree of fitness.  It's hot, muggy, and suffocating, which puts me in a bad mood.  Bad mood = Bad food.  Which starts the vicious cycle ... when I feel like crap from eating crap, I don't want to exercise -- or move much at all.  And at my age, you suddenly wake up one day after a month or so of this behavior, look in the mirror, and say:  WHAT THE HELL?  Get a friggin grip!

 

And I spent a few days in Vegas last week through Sunday.  No, I did not behave there either. 

 

Ten unwanted pounds of garbage.  Be damned!  At my age, it's easy for ten to look more like twenty.

 

Yes, world.  It's time.  Gotta buckle down to business, find my rhythm, set some goals, and work on finding my zone again.  I'm happier when I'm in the zone, when I 'm in control.  The toughest part is the beginning, those first few days of detox.  It's hard.  Damn hard.  I'm pissed and I'm tired and I'm miserable.  It makes me wanna cuss and be nasty to people.  Food is more tempting than ever.  But it's important not to back down during that time, not to retreat.  I gotta hold on for dear life and push forward, grind it out.  Usually within five to seven days, I'm on cruise control, floating on air again, thriving on the adrenaline and back in charge. 

 

Nothing tastes as good as feeling like that.  Mastering, rather than BEING mastered.  On top of my game.  That feeling cannot be matched.  No, I can't taste it yet, but I'm getting there. 

 

I hit the gym yesterday morning.  It opens at 5:30.  I was there by 5:45, and there were a handful of cars in the parking lot, but no sign of life.  The guy who opens had apparently overslept, and everyone was sitting in their cars, waiting, wondering.  Pissed.  And me?  Hah.  This was a no-brainer for me.  Hey, I didn't get up at 5:00, have coffee, dress in gear, and drive over there for nothing.  I got out of my car and decided to power walk the entire parking lot of the complex, which encompasses a rather large area.  All.To.Myself.  It was a beautiful morning, a perfect time to warm up while waiting for the gym guy to show up (hopefully), and far better than doing an indoor warmup anyway. 

 

I finished up with 50 walking lunges just as I saw the guy fly into the lot on two wheels, screech to a halt and a herd of people chasing him in the door.  I managed to get about 30 minutes of lifting in.  Yay me.  My first real fix in days.  God, it felt good.

 

I made it out again this morning, this time getting in 45 minutes total, cardio and lifting.  Taste it?  Not quite, but there's definitely an aroma.  Am I past the hard part yet?  No.  But I'm not looking back, not giving up, not giving in.  I want this.  I.WANT.IT.

 

Being accountable is more than half the battle, and so I must commit to checking in often with progress reports. 

 

Stare the monster in the face
and don't break eye contact.



 

And here we go....

 



Whisper

It's so exciting to discover new music that speaks to me, that makes me hit REWIND...prompting the question:  Who's THAT?

It's been a drought.  I listen to the radio on the way to work, channel surfing, one channel to the next and back again.  Frustrated, I'll switch it over to CD's, or, if handy, I'll grab my cell phone for some Pandora.  The music today seems so tired, so cliche.  Lacking.  Overdone.  Overrated.  Overstated.

My search of genuine talent...an ongoing quest.

But thanks to Pandora, I'm blessed with a breath of fresh air now and then.  I'll quickly grab my cell and do a screen shot -- to remember -- then when I have the time, I'll Google the artist, check out their sound.  Dig deeper.  And now and then... I strike gold.

Alison Sudol.  Fresh air.  How did I miss this one?  I must purchase A Fine Frenzy.  Having listened to several of the clips from that CD on Amazon, I'm enchanted.  Heart-stirring, to say the least.  Lovely. 

I ESPECIALLY love this acoustic piece from that CD.  Yes...I'm moved.

I’m down to a whisper

In a daydream on a hill

Shut down to a whisper

Can you hear me…

Can you hear me still?

 



Sleepless in Summertime

Ever have a night

when you seem to not have slept at all

but rather dreamed

and dreamed

and dreamed

all

night

long?

 

And when you finally wake up

and realize it was all just a dream,

you feel exhausted

and want nothing more than to close your eyes

go back to sleep...

release



and try to forget.

 

 

Fan the Fire

I ran into a friend of mine early last week at the grocery store.  We hadn't seen each other in YEARS, even though we live in the same community.  Busy lives.  Yes.  We met in middle school, what, age 13?  14?  Do the math.  That's 40 years ago.  My gosh, has it really been that long. 

I've always adored her joie de vivre, her energy, her uplifting attitude.  A contagious personality.  We shared many common interests and never had to work at our friendship.  It was one of those friendships where silence -- long periods of silence -- was never awkward.  It was if our souls would continue connecting, communicating, even though our voices had fallen silent.  The best chemistry.

She hasn't changed much, at least not in that respect.  It was so good to see her again, as we began talking a mile a minute, laughing, unintentionally holding up traffic in the grocery aisle    "...oh, pardon me...excuse me...oops, sorry!..."  stepping side, forward, and back to dodge shoppers as we chattered on and on.  And on.  As the conversation was coming to an end, we realized we had far more things to catch up on and agreed to meet the following Thursday in the park for a power walk together -- we both thrive on exercise and staying active, another thing I adore about her.  We decided we'd make better use of our time exercising while we talked, rather than sitting on our asses, feeding our faces.  (That's how she's wired too.  She gets my madness!)

And so at 7:30 last night we met at a local park and spent the next 60 minutes power walking on the running/walking trail that meandered up, down and around the outer border.  Our conversation was electric, never slowing -- nor did our feet -- as we breathlessly shared and talked and listened and laughed and purged.  It was a fabulous encounter with her after all this time had passed.  As we were finishing up our third lap around the trail, having been at it for about an hour, it began to rain---large drops of rain, increasingly steady.  We sprinted to her car -- the closest -- and sat inside for the next 30 minutes, dripping with sweat, steaming up the windows as we continued to talk and talk ... and talk.  It was nothing short of cathartic.  And as the last light of day settled in, we grabbed our smart phone calendars, making another "date" for a power walk in two weeks as we said our goodbyes.

I realized as I was driving home how uplifting it had been to me to share a piece of my life with a friend who had the same passion for exercise and healthy living as I do.  That common thread that filled a void in my life.  Her excitement and drive served to inspire me, and vice versa, a reciprocal fanning of flames.  Our fires burning brighter as we parted.

Though my alarm was set for 5:30 this morning, my circadian rhythm aroused me a few minutes before five.  I opened my eyes, glanced at the clock, and decided that rather than going for a run, I needed to hit the gym.  Life had gotten in the way the past couple of weeks or so, and I'd only been to the gym a couple of times.  What?  YOU SLACKER!  Get your ass to the gym!  My conscience had been eating at me the past few days, thinking back to when I was on fire, preparing for my competition, how amazing I felt.  I loved feeling like that.  I loved being lean and strong and exploding with energy.  I want it back.  I.WANT.IT.  I know what I need to do.  I gotta pull myself out of this funk and work my way back to my game.  No drug in the world can make a person feel as good as being clean, lean, strong and fit.  There is no substitute for that incredible feeling of being on top of your game, in control of your mind and body, supercharged with insatiable energy.

I gotta do this right.  I know that it has to be approached one day at a time.  What I do today changes tomorrow, and the next, and the next -- a domino effect that feeds on its own motivation.

I was short on time this morning, and so I wanted to maximize my approach.  I warmed up for ten minutes on the treadmill, increasing the elevation after the first five minutes at 15 second intervals.  The next 30 minutes was spent doing squats, lunges, bicep curl/overhead presses, assisted pullups, weighted kickbacks, and ab work in between, with no more than 30 seconds of rest between each set and each superset.  A blitzing metabolic workout.  My heart and mind had come together, and I left there walking on air.  Life.Is.Good.Again.   Remember this feeling, T?  Go after it, girlfriend.

I have the knowledge.  I have the strength.  But most importantly, I have to have the will to get the job done.  It's mind over matter.  The mind.  The mind has to be in charge, ignoring any protests from the body.  Just do it.  Every damn day just decide:  I'm doing it.

Fanning the flame.

One way or another,

ya gotta keep the fire lit.

Blessings of Old Friends

My husband arrived on the island about halfway through my stay. 

I picked him up at the airport after long rain delays,

and we made it back around 1 a.m.

just in time to watch the moon rise over the ocean from our balcony.

 

Swoon.

 

My hopelessly romantic heart melted.

 

The next evening was my birthday,

and we spent it with old friends who had moved

to Naples a few years ago.

How we'd missed them!

 

The view at Snook Inn

Let's see...how do we balance on this pier

without busting our asses

after a few cold ones?

 

Okay.

We got this.

Click, click!

 

Don't lie to me, Dude!

Is this my good side?

 

Schmoozing with the waitress.

I'm a Master Schmoozer.

 

Celebrating good times

I miss you, my fierce and lovely friend!

 

But my memories

of

Marco Island

will

sustain

me.

 

Till the next time...

 

 

 

 



You Can Always Make Me Smile

I discovered this cutie on Tumblr

(I'm addicted to Tumblr)

 

Who are you, Mystery Cutie?

 

It matters not to me.

But I'm in love with your smile.

That naive, slightly shy smile.

It's contagious.

Addictive.

 

I stare, and a smile forms on my face.

 

I want to know what made you laugh during this shot.

 

This makes me smile way down deep.

It made my day.

 

Keep that gorgeous smile...

Keep laughter flowing.

 

Laughter and orgasm are great bedfellows.

~John Callahan



Paradise (Part 1)

It truly was The Land of Bliss … from the moment I arrived. 

As soon as I managed to get my luggage and things unloaded from my car and up to my room, I then literally DUMPED my luggage onto the beautiful master bed overlooking the ocean, changed into my bathing suit, then hurriedly grabbed the essentials for the next several hours that I planned to spend on the beach:  my camera, flip flops, a beach towel, sun glasses, my music, and my beach chair.  I poured myself a drink into my water bottle, filling it up with lots of ice, threw everything into a little beach sak, and bam – I was gone.  Just get me to the shore.   I couldn’t remember feeling this excited to be near the ocean in years.  The anticipation was killing me … just let me sit there, feet in the water, staring at the ocean, the birds, the sun, the sand – not a care in the world.  No worries, no clocks, no deadlines.  No one to answer to.  Just me and the beautiful Gulf.  And like icing on the cake, a gorgeous sunset to follow…in fact, several sunsets in the days ahead. 

And the most ideal weather. 

The perfect getaway.

 

Reluctantly, I managed to drag myself off the beach as the very last sliver of light illuminated the frosted caps on the gentle waves.

“An affair to remember…”

(to be continued)