- Yum! (@ Bike Stop Cafe) 4sq.com/17LwG5F 18 hours ago
- Post-ride magic. (@ Starbucks) 4sq.com/10LVZNt 23 hours ago
- Time for some ceviche! Yum! (@ Señor Pique) 4sq.com/15TJ6c0 1 day ago
- I don't appreciate being manipulated into religious activities and think the big JC would raise an eye at that trickery too...#keepitreal 2 days ago
- Happy Birthday, Steph! (@ PJ's Tavern) 4sq.com/16hZgvC 3 days ago
Monthly Archives: February 2010
In celebrating my new cancer-free status, I completely fell off (like a futha mucka) the nutrition bandwagon!
(Mmmmmkay, Tues and Weds were actually stress related work lunch binges o’hell.)
French fries. Things with buffalo wing sauce. Cheese.
I did my workout just fine on Tuesday, but on day 2 of junk belly, my workout was quite the effort.
It clicked for me that the days o’junk needed to stop about 45 minutes into that workout. At that point, I deservedly punished myself with one of Kirk’s 6 minute intervals as penance for my bad eating deeds.
I felt marginally better, but the fact that I was exhausted when I got home made me fully realize (remember) what eating crap does to a person.
I reminded myself that I was once a fatty (Mmmm, yes. I was once a size 18.) and that I didn’t want to go there again or feel that way.
Luckily, my friend Tina is on the fitness bandwagon now, so today I will talk/force her into doing short bursts of core work with me so neither of us fall off the wagon at work EVER again. We’ll see how this goes.
(Can you tell that I am snickering right there?)
Ehhh, accepting it is the first step, right?
*Disclaimer: If you are a size 18 or above or hovering close to that size and are offended by me calling myself a fatty at that size, I don’t know what to tell you. Being mad at me isn’t going to make you any skinnier…unless I glue a Philly Cheese Steak Sammie to my ass and make you chase me. Soooooo, bring it.
I have come to terms with the reality that I feel loathing and aversion toward another human and have recently found myself teetering on the brink of hate.
*shudders at thought*
Hate is bad.
I realized that the thing that makes hate worse than loathing and aversion is the hostility associated with hate.
I don’t like the way that feels.
Somehow, aversion feels better…but only marginally less dysfunctional.
I have attempted compassion and understanding and have been beaten down, disrespected, and flat out abused in response.
I have questioned my self worth on a daily basis in deliberating why I would warrant this treatment, and while I am no saint, this person has never been wronged by me. This person has been protected by me whilst shredding any semblance of protection I myself might require or desire.
I have received their hate, which has been magically marketed as love, and I have never been a buyer.
I grew up in Brooklyn and was regularly unimpressed with the “magic” sold on the NYC street corners. Generally, they were cheap rip offs of the real thing and not a bargain…even to a 13 year old. I always wanted the real thing…even if that meant I could have less in quantity.
I was kissed goodnight and told I was loved by a mother who had no concept of the definition, and I learned to question the surface and explore.
I am rarely a cynic and generally enjoy being proven wrong once I have made a superficial observation. (For the record, I have only been proven wrong when I have superficially considered someone good or worthy of attention. Not once in my life have I been wrong when getting a “bad vibe” from someone…but I enjoy the thought of it.)
Perhaps that is why I have been hurt less than some.
Perhaps that is why this person could not penetrate me…
However, I assure you, I am hurt.
I have hurt myself.
I have sold out and allowed my self-being to be compromised and weakened by hovering on the brink of hatred.
How awful for all parties that I would allow myself that close to the fire.
How does one turn away before it is too late and the line is crossed into such a sad and tragic territory…?
Just having the knowledge is exhausting…
How does one simply avert yet exist in the same space as one so damaging to self?
How does one thrive amongst pure shit…without directly laughing in its face…which is my sick and humorous nature.
The dance must begin.
I am at the base of my hill and reconsidering a slow and steady spin rather than an aggressive and energy-wasting mash to the pinnacle…
I will get up and over…and my breath will be deep and strong when I get there.
Because you are not my friend, I will not look back.
I will not pull.
Those days are now over.
I will simply pass you and drop you…slow enough for it to penetrate your consciousness.
There is a lot of emotion attached to this moment. This weekend. This life time.
I cannot readily express it all at the moment, because somethings are not easily verbally conveyed.
I am happy. Scared. Excited. Sad. Contemplative.
It is all new again. Uncomfortable.
My body is still wrecked and repairing, but psychologically stronger and more confident.
I am a little girl. Alone. Surrounded. Shy.
How will I do this?
How do I do this?
It is the small things in life like…
…having a significant other the day after a 3 hour workout in the saddle in which the last 60 minutes was spent doing A.T. intervals… *OUCH!*…and having that person know what to do to help with the aftermath of such a workout…
…having a dog who understands that some days you just need to sleep a little later…
…having a daughter who understands that certain teeth are worth more to the Tooth Fairy…and that she is beautiful with or without front teeth…
…having a teenager who knows not to even consider driving his car in a snow storm but who also comprehends the value of 2 functioning legs and manages to arrive at his destination without his life being “ruined” by walking to it…
…having the snow come down in a welcoming manner that invites you to come out and run in it…as well as a daughter who wants to run in it with you…
…that make some Sundays better than others…
Today is one of those Sundays.