Thank you so much to Maeve Conran for the interview about Training on Empty on KGNU.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
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Saturday, August 24, 2013
Coping
Life happens. Recovery doesn't mean that everything comes up roses, rainbows blot out the sky and pots of gold are deposited at your doorstep. No, shit still happens. That's one of the hardest things to face about living in the world and being present. You think that after going through the worst hell imaginable (more than once), things magically improve, but life still fucking hurts now and then. After numbing out your feelings for so long, managing them when you do start to wake up can turn into a real struggle, especially while you're also trying to avoid losing your footing in all the slippery crap that gets spread around.
I feel about as solid as a dimensional Lichtenstein painting. I'm not quite here lately, but I'm trying to get grounded again. Some techniques to get back to yourself include: crying, writing, singing, punching a pillow, dancing, talking, talking some more and feeling, fucking feeling. Mostly I'm trying to do shit that MATTERS, attempting to find myself in giving back, because I can be pretty selfish when I'm hurting, both emotionally and physically hurting. I've been attempting a bit of everything actually -- minus the dancing, as I'm not all that coordinated -- in an effort to get some perspective on everything going on in my life lately. But my urge is to sleep for weeks, just turn off everything and everyone.
God, I look in the mirror, and I looked so pained. It's written all over me, no matter how much I try to get around it. But just like getting through anything -- a race, a project or a hectic day -- the best way to get over it is to plow right through it. I sometimes wish I were the type who lets go easily and moves right along without looking back and with no regrets, jumping into new situations without a care. I'm too in my head for that.
As challenging as it may be, I'm attempting to face the way I feel, something that is very difficult for me, as my tendency is to run, just fucking flee, when I'm hurting, facing conflict or unable to control events in my life, but I'm also trying to avoid letting my feelings engulf me. Sometimes I feel like my emotions are going to swallow me whole. I can easily get so upset that I start shaking, especially with conflict, and that has happened several times in the last few months. I have to remind myself that it's temporary. The emotions will eventually pass. Things will change. I will breathe again.
While I may not know the outcome or the near future, change is inevitable. Whatever feelings are pouring out of me or attempting to drown me right now, I can't get to the point where I'm risking overwhelming myself or others around me, but I also can't stuff anything down and pretend everything is fine when it's not. The risk is too great, and I'm still trying to stay one step ahead of or at least toe to toe with my bigger issues. Jeez, my life feels like a fucking Shakespearean tragedy, minus eyes being plucked out, suicides or violent murders, of course. Internally it feels that way, though- fucking drama -- but no audience is going to pay much attention to my soliloquy.
Life with its ups and its deep, cavernous depressions... What do you do?
Yeah, I'm "too" emotional. I care too much and all that crap, but I'm not alone in being sensitive, maybe overly so. I love too hard, get hurt too easily and become conflicted and confused by how I act, react and interpret my experiences. My biggest goal right now is to stop trying to think I could have done things differently, even if I feel like I should have. Sometimes it's impossible to do what you WANT, because emotions can fuck up any right action.
I've had many vivid dreams lately, mostly unsettling ones that leave me in a state of confusion when I wake. Sometimes I wish I could turn off my dreams. Last night I had a dream about a giant bear. This thing wasn't just big, it was enormous, as big as a fucking mountain. I felt like it might eat me, but it first lingered, watching me as the fear trickled up my spine and through my body, and then the animal made its way down the street. Bears can symbolize anything from power and healing to courage in going it alone. Let's hope this strange dream was a sign that I'm regaining some strength and confidence in attempting to return to myself. I'm both craving space and companionship, an odd combination that is ultimately unattainable, so I lean toward the space.
My hormones are a fucking mess lately. After a month of having my period, I got two weeks off followed by another period. No wonder my emotions are running a little wild lately.
Don't forget that You Can't Use Your Cell Phone in Here is available as an ebook that can be downloaded in pretty much any format (even if you don't have an electronic reading device) on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/347361
And in the printable version on CreateSpace.com: https://www.createspace.com/4408253?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026&cp=70170000000bqKn&ls=Social_Media&sls=FB_Like
Please consider a purchase to help out a struggling writer. Thank you.
I feel about as solid as a dimensional Lichtenstein painting. I'm not quite here lately, but I'm trying to get grounded again. Some techniques to get back to yourself include: crying, writing, singing, punching a pillow, dancing, talking, talking some more and feeling, fucking feeling. Mostly I'm trying to do shit that MATTERS, attempting to find myself in giving back, because I can be pretty selfish when I'm hurting, both emotionally and physically hurting. I've been attempting a bit of everything actually -- minus the dancing, as I'm not all that coordinated -- in an effort to get some perspective on everything going on in my life lately. But my urge is to sleep for weeks, just turn off everything and everyone.
God, I look in the mirror, and I looked so pained. It's written all over me, no matter how much I try to get around it. But just like getting through anything -- a race, a project or a hectic day -- the best way to get over it is to plow right through it. I sometimes wish I were the type who lets go easily and moves right along without looking back and with no regrets, jumping into new situations without a care. I'm too in my head for that.
As challenging as it may be, I'm attempting to face the way I feel, something that is very difficult for me, as my tendency is to run, just fucking flee, when I'm hurting, facing conflict or unable to control events in my life, but I'm also trying to avoid letting my feelings engulf me. Sometimes I feel like my emotions are going to swallow me whole. I can easily get so upset that I start shaking, especially with conflict, and that has happened several times in the last few months. I have to remind myself that it's temporary. The emotions will eventually pass. Things will change. I will breathe again.
While I may not know the outcome or the near future, change is inevitable. Whatever feelings are pouring out of me or attempting to drown me right now, I can't get to the point where I'm risking overwhelming myself or others around me, but I also can't stuff anything down and pretend everything is fine when it's not. The risk is too great, and I'm still trying to stay one step ahead of or at least toe to toe with my bigger issues. Jeez, my life feels like a fucking Shakespearean tragedy, minus eyes being plucked out, suicides or violent murders, of course. Internally it feels that way, though- fucking drama -- but no audience is going to pay much attention to my soliloquy.
Life with its ups and its deep, cavernous depressions... What do you do?
Yeah, I'm "too" emotional. I care too much and all that crap, but I'm not alone in being sensitive, maybe overly so. I love too hard, get hurt too easily and become conflicted and confused by how I act, react and interpret my experiences. My biggest goal right now is to stop trying to think I could have done things differently, even if I feel like I should have. Sometimes it's impossible to do what you WANT, because emotions can fuck up any right action.
I've had many vivid dreams lately, mostly unsettling ones that leave me in a state of confusion when I wake. Sometimes I wish I could turn off my dreams. Last night I had a dream about a giant bear. This thing wasn't just big, it was enormous, as big as a fucking mountain. I felt like it might eat me, but it first lingered, watching me as the fear trickled up my spine and through my body, and then the animal made its way down the street. Bears can symbolize anything from power and healing to courage in going it alone. Let's hope this strange dream was a sign that I'm regaining some strength and confidence in attempting to return to myself. I'm both craving space and companionship, an odd combination that is ultimately unattainable, so I lean toward the space.
My hormones are a fucking mess lately. After a month of having my period, I got two weeks off followed by another period. No wonder my emotions are running a little wild lately.
If all else fails, turn to God.
Oh come on, it's funny.
Don't forget that You Can't Use Your Cell Phone in Here is available as an ebook that can be downloaded in pretty much any format (even if you don't have an electronic reading device) on Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/347361
And in the printable version on CreateSpace.com: https://www.createspace.com/4408253?ref=1147694&utm_id=6026&cp=70170000000bqKn&ls=Social_Media&sls=FB_Like
Please consider a purchase to help out a struggling writer. Thank you.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Wa wa wa wHat?
I'm a million miles away and have been the last few weeks. I rode an ugly emotional roller coaster and got spit out on the pavement. Fortunately, I skidded and eventually landed at the feet of a few friends who helped me up and are trying to point me in the right direction.
I'm thinking out loud today, nothing more.
If all goes well, I should be able to get the short story book available in print form. I'd like to do that for my own book as well and will as soon as I can move forward with this other one.
I'm appalled that I can't always make my actions agree with my heart or even my head. I have a stubborn, shut-down response to intense, emotionally-charged situations, and it can come off as cold, even when everything in me is screaming to act differently. I usually don't, unfortunately. I'm no different than anyone else, though, and admit that Bukowski was right. This is what I need to address in my life lately:
"We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing."
But nothing is relative, so is everything. If you've got an itch, it's your itch and nobody can tell you that it doesn't itch or that their itch is worse. Some of us have been hurt more than others, and it makes walking thorough life without reacting on a strictly emotional level more difficult. Sure, give it a week or three, and most of us are able to take off the denial blinders and see things for what they are, but in the moment, that's difficult to do. The result is that we cling and cry and throw fits. And then we get over it and wonder what the fuck it was all about anyway. In the end it's probably all really just trivial bullshit, but it can FEEL so REAL, until you sit back and think about the bloodshed in Egypt or contemplate the immensity of the universe and feel stupid for moaning about the little things. But who am I kidding? We are emotional, feeling beings, so it's natural to get a little self absorbed from time to time. Some people never get out of that state and live in a ME ME ME, fucking ME world.
Life shifts are never easy. We all experience them. Some of us go numb. Some of us fall apart, and some of us adapt more successfully. I do a little of each. During these difficult times, It helps to have friends who can be honest. Most people aren't honest. I think about that a lot. They tell others what they think they want to hear, are afraid to say NO and tiptoe around the issue. I know I don't like to risk hurting anyone, so I have done it too, mostly in the form of withholding information, never outright lying. It still doesn't feel good, though. On the other hand, sometimes it's just not my place to dump information on someone else, no matter how much I wish the other person could know, really know.
But it's silly, because intuition usually comes into play... or maybe that's wishful thinking on my part; I don't know. Most people (I think), except those who are really good about pushing their weight around in life or those who insist on living in a fantasy, have some sense of what is reality. I guess I'm lucky that the people in my circle are pretty straight shooters, even when being honest can't be all that easy. Right now I'm clinging to that. I needed a large dose of reality, and some oxycodone wouldn't be so bad either. Joking...sort of.
My biggest lessons lately are:
1. You can never truly know what another person thinks or feels. It's pointless to guess, and guessing or assuming leads to a tremendous amount of conflict. It's also easy to assume the wrong thing based on past experiences and self esteem or lack thereof.
2. Take everything with a shaker of salt. People say shit all the time. Pay attention to your gut in all situations. And trust it.
3. Even when you feel like curling up in the fetal position and crying the rest of you life away, get out and DO STUFF. It will make you feel better, much better.
4. When your mind has taken a trip while your body stumbles around on Earth, return to yourself as soon as possible, because you are the only one in the world who will be there for you in the end.
I just watched Orange is the New Black. I loved this scene, and -- as someone who focuses on my past faults, as if I should have been super human and always reacted calmly, lovingly and compassionately no matter what the circumstance -- it's important for me to acknowledge that everyone makes mistakes. More importantly, does it really matter, especially if we don't KNOW what the right action SHOULD be? Does my emotional reaction to a situation (that always seems to become the focus and eventually the main problem) change the ultimate outcome? Probably not, but I'm good at pretending it does:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXnZ8NTZrAo
http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2013/08/15/orange_is_the_new_black_on_road_less_traveled_show_gets_robert_frost_poem.html?utm_source=tw&utm_medium=sm&utm_campaign=button_chunky
The running.
Still in pain, but what else is new? I can't afford the MRI that my PT recommended, so I'm just staying the course. This is the type of injury that heals VERY SLOWLY. It's up and down and all over the place, much like everything else in my life right now. But today I ran, and the super sharp stabbing pains were a tiny bit less. I think that is progress. I have forgotten what it's like to really run, but I am glad I can walk with a lot less pain. That is huge. I miss the idea of racing, but I realize how crazy it was that I was racing even last year given how fucked my body was. Right now I just want some sigh... I don't even know.
What a big weekend of races in Colorado. I saw that for the first time ever, Pikes did some random drug testing. I was very glad to see that, though I'm not happy that the sport has gotten to this point, and also not happy about the assumptions that have been made about dirty runners. That's no good at all.
Wheww. I feel better.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Price Correction
Whoops. The price on the book is $4.99.
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| https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/347361 |
This is a book of short stories that another writer and I completed recently. Spread the word!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
New Book
I know I have neglected my blog lately. My efforts to be better about updating this thing failed, but it's not like I've been a compete slacker. In fact, my editor and I just finished writing a book of short stories that is now available on Smashwords at the following link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/347361
This has been a really fun, challenging and rewarding project. I can't even begin to explain how lucky I feel to have been part of it. I'm sure some of you loyal readers probably already know how talented Kevin Beck is when it comes to writing and running, among many other things, so working on this book with him was a real treat for me. Kevin is someone who has pushed me, inspired me and had faith in me as a writer, even when I hesitate calling myself one. I always tell him that I would give a body part, even one of the uninjured ones, to write like he does.
Rather than muck up this post with running-related (or injury-related) topics, I will keep it short and focused on the topic at hand.
I learned a great deal working on my contributions to this book. I have said this many times before, but a good editor elevates writing and adds richness. Such was the case here. Some stories flowed for me, and others tormented me. I always talk about how it's best to get out of your own way, and I'm finding out that it's absolutely essential with writing. You have to get the story out there first. Rewriting is the equivalent of decorating the cake after you have baked it, frosted it and made sure it's even and set. It's the fun part, but you can't jump there without a good base. (Sound familiar runners?) I'm often impatient, so I'm learning to spend the time I need to write, rewrite and then creatively rewrite...and then let my editor fix it.
Anyway, take a look and let me know what you think. Spread the word if you can, and don't freak out about the fact that I attempted something with some adult content in one of the stories. Just be sure to read that one to the end.
This has been a really fun, challenging and rewarding project. I can't even begin to explain how lucky I feel to have been part of it. I'm sure some of you loyal readers probably already know how talented Kevin Beck is when it comes to writing and running, among many other things, so working on this book with him was a real treat for me. Kevin is someone who has pushed me, inspired me and had faith in me as a writer, even when I hesitate calling myself one. I always tell him that I would give a body part, even one of the uninjured ones, to write like he does.
Rather than muck up this post with running-related (or injury-related) topics, I will keep it short and focused on the topic at hand.
I learned a great deal working on my contributions to this book. I have said this many times before, but a good editor elevates writing and adds richness. Such was the case here. Some stories flowed for me, and others tormented me. I always talk about how it's best to get out of your own way, and I'm finding out that it's absolutely essential with writing. You have to get the story out there first. Rewriting is the equivalent of decorating the cake after you have baked it, frosted it and made sure it's even and set. It's the fun part, but you can't jump there without a good base. (Sound familiar runners?) I'm often impatient, so I'm learning to spend the time I need to write, rewrite and then creatively rewrite...and then let my editor fix it.
Anyway, take a look and let me know what you think. Spread the word if you can, and don't freak out about the fact that I attempted something with some adult content in one of the stories. Just be sure to read that one to the end.
Monday, July 29, 2013
One Step
This injury is one of those one step forward, one step back situations. As long as there is overall improvement, no matter what direction I step, I remain hopeful and try to avoid freaking out over the backwards stepping. It's a tough situation to be in when you get glimpses of what running can be like, but you're not there yet. Apparently, the technical term for my condition (or the most limiting part of my condition, as there are several issues going on at once) is Ischiogluteal Bursitis. It's basically a pain the the ass.
Last night I slept well for the first time in a really long time. Things that had been weighing on me were suddenly lifted, and having clarity, even if the outcome wasn't what I wanted, allowed me to let go and rest. It felt good. My body and mind both needed it, and I realize how important sleep is in healing all wounds, emotional and physical.
Saturday was a fun night, compete with good company, good food and interesting adventures. I have to say that sweet potato fries get me overly excited. I'm slightly embarrassed that I was caught with fries in both hands at one point during dinner, but they are so gooood!
Sunday was hell. Skip that and jump to today, which is looking like it will be a good day.
I'm just finishing up a short story that has been haunting me. Oddly enough, it is a horror story, though it's not all that scary, really. I will need to go back and see if I can up the creepy factor by a fair amount. I have three ideas for the ending and can't decide which one will come out as my final choice. Coming to the end of a story is always bitter sweet for me. There's a sense of relief that it's done, an awareness that it needs editing and rewriting, and even a bit of sadness as the relationship to it comes to a close. Of all the stories I have done recently, it's my least favorite, but it has taken the most effort. Sometimes, like with running, you can have a great race and not feel all that tired, but the races in which you struggle can teach you a great deal.
I'm going to make more of an effort to blog more regularly here. I haven't been good about that lately.
Last night I slept well for the first time in a really long time. Things that had been weighing on me were suddenly lifted, and having clarity, even if the outcome wasn't what I wanted, allowed me to let go and rest. It felt good. My body and mind both needed it, and I realize how important sleep is in healing all wounds, emotional and physical.
Saturday was a fun night, compete with good company, good food and interesting adventures. I have to say that sweet potato fries get me overly excited. I'm slightly embarrassed that I was caught with fries in both hands at one point during dinner, but they are so gooood!
Sunday was hell. Skip that and jump to today, which is looking like it will be a good day.
I'm just finishing up a short story that has been haunting me. Oddly enough, it is a horror story, though it's not all that scary, really. I will need to go back and see if I can up the creepy factor by a fair amount. I have three ideas for the ending and can't decide which one will come out as my final choice. Coming to the end of a story is always bitter sweet for me. There's a sense of relief that it's done, an awareness that it needs editing and rewriting, and even a bit of sadness as the relationship to it comes to a close. Of all the stories I have done recently, it's my least favorite, but it has taken the most effort. Sometimes, like with running, you can have a great race and not feel all that tired, but the races in which you struggle can teach you a great deal.
I'm going to make more of an effort to blog more regularly here. I haven't been good about that lately.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
The I word
The last few years, I was so focused on my foot issues that I didn't even realize how injured the rest of my body was. I finally had to face the fact that I have an injury. My PT is amazing. He described my situation in terms of someone who gets in the car over and over when the engine light is on. You sort of learn how to ignore it, even though you know something is wrong. Well, it's different in that, instead of a light, there's shooting pain, stiffness and a constant ache. For years, though, I thought that this was just how my body would be. I was learning to deal with the chronic pain. Um, no. It's how an injured body is, not a healthy one. I still can't believe I raced last year and even before that the way things have been. I'm insane.
In a way, it's good that the stiffness and discomfort got to the point where even walking hurt. I have a LONG way to go still, but I am starting to get glimpses of running again. I have even taken a few jogging steps. I had a few days in the pool on which there was no shooting pain. That's a HUGE improvement. It does leave me in that frustrated situation of being better but not well enough to really run fully, and biking has been out, too.
My life has been sort of sliding lately. My head is so disconnected from my body, I usually don't even know what day it is. Today was the first day in a while that didn't seem impossible to face, even though I'm running on not enough sleep and a surplus of emotion.
This is the time I need to watch myself. Faced with extreme sadness or FEELINGS in general, I know I need to stay one step ahead of my illness. Am I afraid I will slip? No, but that's because the healthy me is giving one hell of a fight. I know what to do, but it can be a challenge at times. Meanwhile, I'm watching someone I know fall down that black hole, rationalizing and explaining away her sick behavior as she falls. And I know there is nothing I can do.
Ahh well, this is a short post, but I have to skip out of here and tend to a few pets and plants before I go to work.
Today was a better day. I think if I can hurt less, I will end up loving running again, even if my stride my never quite be the same. I have hope. Man, what a rough ride it can be at times.
In a way, it's good that the stiffness and discomfort got to the point where even walking hurt. I have a LONG way to go still, but I am starting to get glimpses of running again. I have even taken a few jogging steps. I had a few days in the pool on which there was no shooting pain. That's a HUGE improvement. It does leave me in that frustrated situation of being better but not well enough to really run fully, and biking has been out, too.
My life has been sort of sliding lately. My head is so disconnected from my body, I usually don't even know what day it is. Today was the first day in a while that didn't seem impossible to face, even though I'm running on not enough sleep and a surplus of emotion.
This is the time I need to watch myself. Faced with extreme sadness or FEELINGS in general, I know I need to stay one step ahead of my illness. Am I afraid I will slip? No, but that's because the healthy me is giving one hell of a fight. I know what to do, but it can be a challenge at times. Meanwhile, I'm watching someone I know fall down that black hole, rationalizing and explaining away her sick behavior as she falls. And I know there is nothing I can do.
Ahh well, this is a short post, but I have to skip out of here and tend to a few pets and plants before I go to work.
Today was a better day. I think if I can hurt less, I will end up loving running again, even if my stride my never quite be the same. I have hope. Man, what a rough ride it can be at times.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Going To The Poo
I lost the cap on my L key, so it's difficult to type any words containing the letter L. I lost the N cap, too, but, since I use my index finger for that one, I've gotten used to pressing it harder. The missing L in the title sort of fit and made me laugh when I read it, so I didn't go back and press really hard on the spot where the L used to be on my keyboard.
In case my ramblings aren't completely clear, I'm not happy about having to resort to swimming for a workout. Actually, struggling to not drown for 20 minutes isn't really a workout, but that's about all I can handle in the pool. God. I swim for 10 minutes, and it feels like I've run a marathon. Obviously I'm getting out of shape, but I'm hoping my injuries are healing. Shit. I can't believe how very fucked up my body has been. I'm still shocked that I was running and even racing last year. I guess you sort of get used to limitations until either they improve or get worse and require attention. Now I have this weird thing where I can't even run. It's not just the pain, it's like my body is locked up and won't move. It sucks.
I got the OK to jog 20 minutes, but it didn't go very well. I'm a bit worried.
Uggh, the pool. Because I'm spending so much time and effort trying to avoid drowning, I can't really get my heart rate up, unless it goes up out of sheer terror, which might be the case with me. I bought goggles after one session without them, and that helped, only after about 10 minutes, I was thinking, "Damn, I have a headache." It turns out that I had the straps adjusted too tightly, so I pulled off the darned things -- which resulted in an audible sucking sound with a pop at the end -- and attempted to readjust them while treading water. Shit. And ouch! I bruised the area around my eyes. Not only were my eyeballs bloodshot, but I looked like a raccoon. Then my foot cramped up, and one of my toes went into spasm. Oh joy. To top off my pool experience, two young girls mocked me in the locker room for having colorful kinesio tape on my hamstrings. WTF? Like I didn't get enough teasing when I was a kid; I now have to endure it as an adult? Fuck that. I really wanted to say something nasty, but I held my tongue. A friend and I came up with all kinds of awful comebacks that I would never really say but made me laugh after the incident. It's scary the kind of power I know certain insults can have. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.
Maybe with more swimming, my toothpick-sized arms will look a little less scrawny. They were sore after two laps. Wonderful. I have come very, very close to giving up exercise entirely.
Last night I was watching a really strange show that a friend suggested called Naked and Afraid. The idea is that two people are dropped off in remote areas and have to survive naked together for an extended period. I think it's something like 21 days. Oh, I'd die in the first day; I'm sure. If I didn't go in some freak accident like a coconut bonking me on the head in just the right place, I'm sure some disgusting monstrous insect would eat me before the camera crew could stop the disaster. Either that or the guy who ended up as my partner would kill me for whining about everything.
One of the episodes featured a guy with an infected foot. The producers had to step in and get him medical attention. When they showed him getting it treated, I had flashbacks of being in the hospital. Now, I know he was out in the wild, not in the hospital, but the way he was screaming and yelling when the medic drained the swollen body part made me feel a little less wimpy for shedding the tears I did in the same procedure. That shit HURTS!
My hormones are still completely out of whack. Nothing new there.
I had a spell of writer's block but grabbed a Stephen King book to read for inspiration. I'm very slowly struggling my way through the blockage. Some days, getting a few sentences out is like conquering Everest. My short stories are getting VERY mixed reviews, and I'm having to learn to deal with criticism, a lot of criticism. I get frustrated comparing myself to other writers and my editor, who happens to be a fucking genius, but I'm still working on improving.
I was about to jump into a heated facebook discussion about the outcome of the Zimmerman case, but I realized that the guy I was about to address was probably not going to listen to anyone who disagreed with him. When he cited two "news" sources -- one that's not much more accurate than the Enquirer and the other that has been criticized for copyright infringement and other indiscretions, -- I decided to sit back and watch the mayhem unfold. It was quite upsetting.
Oh, this is kind of cool. Sue Ann Gleason (Chocolate for Breakfast) posted this earlier:
Famous Authors who didn't graduate in writing-related fields.
In case my ramblings aren't completely clear, I'm not happy about having to resort to swimming for a workout. Actually, struggling to not drown for 20 minutes isn't really a workout, but that's about all I can handle in the pool. God. I swim for 10 minutes, and it feels like I've run a marathon. Obviously I'm getting out of shape, but I'm hoping my injuries are healing. Shit. I can't believe how very fucked up my body has been. I'm still shocked that I was running and even racing last year. I guess you sort of get used to limitations until either they improve or get worse and require attention. Now I have this weird thing where I can't even run. It's not just the pain, it's like my body is locked up and won't move. It sucks.
I got the OK to jog 20 minutes, but it didn't go very well. I'm a bit worried.
Uggh, the pool. Because I'm spending so much time and effort trying to avoid drowning, I can't really get my heart rate up, unless it goes up out of sheer terror, which might be the case with me. I bought goggles after one session without them, and that helped, only after about 10 minutes, I was thinking, "Damn, I have a headache." It turns out that I had the straps adjusted too tightly, so I pulled off the darned things -- which resulted in an audible sucking sound with a pop at the end -- and attempted to readjust them while treading water. Shit. And ouch! I bruised the area around my eyes. Not only were my eyeballs bloodshot, but I looked like a raccoon. Then my foot cramped up, and one of my toes went into spasm. Oh joy. To top off my pool experience, two young girls mocked me in the locker room for having colorful kinesio tape on my hamstrings. WTF? Like I didn't get enough teasing when I was a kid; I now have to endure it as an adult? Fuck that. I really wanted to say something nasty, but I held my tongue. A friend and I came up with all kinds of awful comebacks that I would never really say but made me laugh after the incident. It's scary the kind of power I know certain insults can have. I'm glad I kept my mouth shut.
Maybe with more swimming, my toothpick-sized arms will look a little less scrawny. They were sore after two laps. Wonderful. I have come very, very close to giving up exercise entirely.
Last night I was watching a really strange show that a friend suggested called Naked and Afraid. The idea is that two people are dropped off in remote areas and have to survive naked together for an extended period. I think it's something like 21 days. Oh, I'd die in the first day; I'm sure. If I didn't go in some freak accident like a coconut bonking me on the head in just the right place, I'm sure some disgusting monstrous insect would eat me before the camera crew could stop the disaster. Either that or the guy who ended up as my partner would kill me for whining about everything.
One of the episodes featured a guy with an infected foot. The producers had to step in and get him medical attention. When they showed him getting it treated, I had flashbacks of being in the hospital. Now, I know he was out in the wild, not in the hospital, but the way he was screaming and yelling when the medic drained the swollen body part made me feel a little less wimpy for shedding the tears I did in the same procedure. That shit HURTS!
My hormones are still completely out of whack. Nothing new there.
I had a spell of writer's block but grabbed a Stephen King book to read for inspiration. I'm very slowly struggling my way through the blockage. Some days, getting a few sentences out is like conquering Everest. My short stories are getting VERY mixed reviews, and I'm having to learn to deal with criticism, a lot of criticism. I get frustrated comparing myself to other writers and my editor, who happens to be a fucking genius, but I'm still working on improving.
I was about to jump into a heated facebook discussion about the outcome of the Zimmerman case, but I realized that the guy I was about to address was probably not going to listen to anyone who disagreed with him. When he cited two "news" sources -- one that's not much more accurate than the Enquirer and the other that has been criticized for copyright infringement and other indiscretions, -- I decided to sit back and watch the mayhem unfold. It was quite upsetting.
Oh, this is kind of cool. Sue Ann Gleason (Chocolate for Breakfast) posted this earlier:
Famous Authors who didn't graduate in writing-related fields.
Back to messing around with words.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
I Don't Do That
I can't really run. It hurts. I hurt. It's frustrating and confusing. As a result, my emotions are a little on the raw side. Being injured in the summer flat out sucks. Nothing else really matters when you're facing an injury. No matter how far from the elite podium I have fallen, running still means something to me. When I'm struggling with it, I struggle in other areas of my life.
Recently, I wrote a short story, and it's getting mixed reviews. I went from thinking it was decent to thinking it's shit in one day, because of one comment. I'm way too sensitive. I will probably rip it apart several more times before I even think about putting out in the public eye. I'm all too aware of my shortcomings as a writer. Sometimes I wish I had an inflated ego, just so I would get out of my own way more, but it's probably better to be realistic.
The thoughts in my head are spinning around this fucked up idea of love. I no longer pretend to have a clue about this shit. These days, people only love until something better comes along, or they love with the idea that it's temporary. There's no such thing as the kind of eternal love that plagued the characters in Romeo and Juliet. Even if there were, we're all too busy jumping on high horses, complaining and destroying the planet for it to matter much. Today's love is excessive self love --you take as much as you can and fuck anyone else who gets in your way-- GRAB, GRAB, GRAB, and for those of us who can barely like ourselves, our love spills out in all the wrong places. We trust too much, get hurt too easily and wonder how the fuck other people sleep at night.
Relationships? I don't do them. Actually, I should clarify that. I don't do them well. I used to jump in with both feet, like some free-spirited kid jumping into a rain puddle, completely unaware of any potential danger. Then I got hurt a few times, and a few times more. What's that saying about how you should love like you have never been hurt before? Snort. Yeah, right. Sounds good on paper. Anyone who has been screwed over knows it's not that simple. Every time you enter into a new situation with someone, you tend to bring all your scars, fears and distrust from the past. It would be nice if that weren't the case. In the end, many of us repeat the past, no matter how informed we may be. And don't you hate it when your intuition is right?
I want my life to be like a Baz Luhrmann film. I know- so over the top! Well, if you want a straight-laced version of Romeo and Juliet or the Great Gatsby, read some books. If you want visual stimulation, passion and excess, see one of his films.
I'm in a radiohead kind of mood:
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Happy 4th!
No racing for me any time soon. I hope those of you who laced up your racing flats this morning had fun and ran well.
The PT I saw on Monday is really, really good. The problem is that my body doesn't seem to be responding the way it should. Still, it does help to know what's going on, and I wasn't foolish enough to think that one treatment would cure years and years of chronic pain and injuries. I'm doing the exercises he gave me for homework and struggling to find flat places to run around here. Two steps forward, one step back seems to be about right. Hopefully that overall forward motion will continue.
I'm spending most of my time working, writing and stressing lately. Today I have a rare day off with only a few job-related activities to do, so I will take full advantage by spending the day writing and being lazy. I haven't even stuck my nose out the door yet.
Enjoy the holiday!
The PT I saw on Monday is really, really good. The problem is that my body doesn't seem to be responding the way it should. Still, it does help to know what's going on, and I wasn't foolish enough to think that one treatment would cure years and years of chronic pain and injuries. I'm doing the exercises he gave me for homework and struggling to find flat places to run around here. Two steps forward, one step back seems to be about right. Hopefully that overall forward motion will continue.
I'm spending most of my time working, writing and stressing lately. Today I have a rare day off with only a few job-related activities to do, so I will take full advantage by spending the day writing and being lazy. I haven't even stuck my nose out the door yet.
Enjoy the holiday!
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Monday, July 1, 2013
Pain Free In My Future?
I have totally neglected my blog. Apologies, but I have been working a lot and trying to write short stories and articles in my spare time. I miss blogging, though.
Have you ever had chronic pain and, over the years, forget what it's like to live a day without it? For the first time in YEARS, many years, I walked up the stairs without wincing. I haven't been able to step properly for close to 15 years now. Looking back, I have no idea how I was able to run and race at all, given how locked up my body has been. I finally found someone who seems to be able to help me. It's still in the early stages and I have a ton of work to do. It will be a long road, but I can't believe the difference after just one treatment. Wow. I hope I can afford a few more appointments. It all depends on my insurance. I feel like crying. There might be a light at the end of this fucking miserably dark tunnel.
I went here, in case anyone is wondering. http://highaltitudesportsrehab.com/
This post will be super short, because I don't want to mix in a bunch of complaints with the little bit of hope expressed above. Keep checking back, though. I will make more of an effort post more. To end things, here's a song I just love but rarely hear anymore. I played this many years ago on one of my radio shows:
Have you ever had chronic pain and, over the years, forget what it's like to live a day without it? For the first time in YEARS, many years, I walked up the stairs without wincing. I haven't been able to step properly for close to 15 years now. Looking back, I have no idea how I was able to run and race at all, given how locked up my body has been. I finally found someone who seems to be able to help me. It's still in the early stages and I have a ton of work to do. It will be a long road, but I can't believe the difference after just one treatment. Wow. I hope I can afford a few more appointments. It all depends on my insurance. I feel like crying. There might be a light at the end of this fucking miserably dark tunnel.
I went here, in case anyone is wondering. http://highaltitudesportsrehab.com/
This post will be super short, because I don't want to mix in a bunch of complaints with the little bit of hope expressed above. Keep checking back, though. I will make more of an effort post more. To end things, here's a song I just love but rarely hear anymore. I played this many years ago on one of my radio shows:
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
What Makes You Happy?
Shit. I started this post a long time ago.
Yesterday I tripped on the trails because my foot still likes to disconnect from my brain now and then. I didn't really fall, though I put my hands on the ground in order to avoid doing a full face plant. Somehow I stumbled enough to strain my butt. I'm sure everyone who runs has done this. The pain is right at the attachment of the hamstring. I'll be OK in a day or two, but I was on the bike today just to be safe. I've been so fucking sore since ...forever.. that it was probably good to be off my feet a bit. I hate when I start shuffling instead of running. Uggh.
Before I get to the post I left hanging, I thought I would share what someone deposited in my inbox the other day:
The whole time I was watching it, I was thinking that the guy serving her was pretty fucking remarkable and awesome in the way he handled the situation. I don't know if I would have been as kind. What's weird is that she seems to think she has the right to treat others like that. I mean, that's it? This is your big contribution to the world? I have a hard time understand why so many people are incredibly self righteous and so fucking full of themselves. It seems that more and more people are just fine cutting others off, crossing lines they shouldn't, demanding their way, cheating and being all kinds of shady. I find it really sad. But this isn't really what my post was about.
Here's the post I started. I sound like I should be narrating one of those sad cat diaries:
It's a dreary day. My mood is matching the weather. Things have been going better, though. Still, I struggle with where I'm at with my running and in life. I often come back to the question: What makes me happy? There have been times in my life when I could no longer determine what made me happy. It still happens today, though obviously I have moments of being happy. During the down times, thoughts of being cheerful or even content were replaced with thoughts about how to get through the day. When my life slides, it's hard to show up at all. Even taking a shower becomes a difficult task.
Recently, I binged watched a few seasons of Shameless on Netflix. (Uhh, I actually finished the whole thing, I'm not proud to report.) Distraction is OK during times of depression, though I tend to take it too far (obviously). Despite it being a great show, at times it's really difficult to watch because of all the drinking one of the main characters does. Some of it hits too close to home, especially when it comes to the scenes in the first season. For someone who has grown up and been around alcoholics a lot, the show stirs up much resentment, anger and sadness.
One of many things the show captures well (perhaps unintentionally, though I suspect someone involved in the production is in the know) is how everything centers around the addict, even though he's out of it much of the time. In later episodes of the show, the main alcoholic occasionally comes through, and despite all the shit that goes down, people seem to still like the guy. He's human, after all.
Growing up with an alcoholic father and other addicts in and out of the house meant major events such as birthdays and holidays were spent wondering if X would make a scene and if Y would keep his shit together long enough to avoid a fight. That makes us sound like trailer trash, but this was hidden, as well as possible anyway. It was that typical suburbia type shit that wasn't always obvious to others. It never is when addicts are somewhat functional. Going to restaurants was the worst with everyone who wasn't drinking worried about what other people would think.The disgust, the worry, the disappointment, the embarrassment and the pain, the fucking, fucking pain of watching people wreck their lives and the lives of those around them was fairly constant.
I've noticed that many people who are in the throes of an eating disorder get stuck focusing on a certain statement that feels true to them. I see it, because I did it, too, and if I'm not careful, I can slip back into those kinds of patterns. All addicts hurt. Hell, people in general are wounded by life in some way or another. What I'm finding is that focusing on the symptoms doesn't resolve the issue.
When you blurt out, "I feel fat" or "I hate my life" ask yourself what you are seeking. What self reflection or introspection is taking place? When you state to others, "I didn't eat" or "I skipped a meal," how do you want and expect others to respond? Are you considering how these comments may affect those around you, and are you asking yourself what is it really that you need? Is it comfort, confirmation or acknowledgment? Or are you expecting the people listening to help you and tell you how to take care of yourself? I ask, because sometimes I haven't been clear when I have complained about certain situations.
Perhaps instead of repeating a phrase about our symptoms, we can begin to define the feeling, fear or concern in another way and get to the root of the issue. I mentioned before that early in my recovery, I used to always say, "I feel fat." If I'm not careful, this still comes out, and I'm forced to look at what it really means. Am I uncomfortable, afraid, tired or angry? Usually there's something deeper.
Yesterday, just as I was thinking about how uncomfortable I was feeling, someone else said that she was feeling out of sorts. Another lady agreed and we figured it must have been related to the changing pressure in the atmosphere or something. I often attribute everything to my thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there are physical causes relating to our experiences.
I don't think I'm alone when it comes to having trouble defining what makes me happy. Sometimes it's clear, and sometimes it's more vague. I can say that I'm happier when I'm in less pain, and because I tend to have some chronic conditions, it's not always easy to focus on what brings me joy. I do think that it's important to continually examine this question. For example, I wish I had someone asking me about my happiness when I was so miserable with my running.
I've lost my steam. Recently I have been writing and reading some fiction, and I can't seem to think straight at the moment.
*******************************************************************************
Words and sayings that annoy this week:
Manifest - This is the new age version of prayer (with about the same results), only more centered around the self and wishing rather than working to achieve desired outcomes. (See Betty Bowers or George Carlin on prayer)
Blessed - I'm not sure what this means, but people seem to use this word as some kind of euphemism for "My life sucks."
I know, I know, positive thinking and all that can have good effects. I don't dispute that. What bothers me is how people toss sayings around these days and expect change without taking any action. It reminds of of a great South park quote:
Cartman: Hippies.They're everywhere. They wanna save the earth, but all they do is smoke pot and smell bad.
I will say that I like original hippies from the 60s. They're a dying breed, though. Unfortunately, they are being pushed out by the new-age "I'm SO spiritual" hippie and the Whole Foods going, fake hippie. Oh shit. I occasionally shop at Whole Foods! Uh oh.
Wow, I'm all over the place in this post. I'm a little bit crabby, too. I better stop here.
Yesterday I tripped on the trails because my foot still likes to disconnect from my brain now and then. I didn't really fall, though I put my hands on the ground in order to avoid doing a full face plant. Somehow I stumbled enough to strain my butt. I'm sure everyone who runs has done this. The pain is right at the attachment of the hamstring. I'll be OK in a day or two, but I was on the bike today just to be safe. I've been so fucking sore since ...forever.. that it was probably good to be off my feet a bit. I hate when I start shuffling instead of running. Uggh.
Before I get to the post I left hanging, I thought I would share what someone deposited in my inbox the other day:
The whole time I was watching it, I was thinking that the guy serving her was pretty fucking remarkable and awesome in the way he handled the situation. I don't know if I would have been as kind. What's weird is that she seems to think she has the right to treat others like that. I mean, that's it? This is your big contribution to the world? I have a hard time understand why so many people are incredibly self righteous and so fucking full of themselves. It seems that more and more people are just fine cutting others off, crossing lines they shouldn't, demanding their way, cheating and being all kinds of shady. I find it really sad. But this isn't really what my post was about.
Here's the post I started. I sound like I should be narrating one of those sad cat diaries:
It's a dreary day. My mood is matching the weather. Things have been going better, though. Still, I struggle with where I'm at with my running and in life. I often come back to the question: What makes me happy? There have been times in my life when I could no longer determine what made me happy. It still happens today, though obviously I have moments of being happy. During the down times, thoughts of being cheerful or even content were replaced with thoughts about how to get through the day. When my life slides, it's hard to show up at all. Even taking a shower becomes a difficult task.
Recently, I binged watched a few seasons of Shameless on Netflix. (Uhh, I actually finished the whole thing, I'm not proud to report.) Distraction is OK during times of depression, though I tend to take it too far (obviously). Despite it being a great show, at times it's really difficult to watch because of all the drinking one of the main characters does. Some of it hits too close to home, especially when it comes to the scenes in the first season. For someone who has grown up and been around alcoholics a lot, the show stirs up much resentment, anger and sadness.
One of many things the show captures well (perhaps unintentionally, though I suspect someone involved in the production is in the know) is how everything centers around the addict, even though he's out of it much of the time. In later episodes of the show, the main alcoholic occasionally comes through, and despite all the shit that goes down, people seem to still like the guy. He's human, after all.
Growing up with an alcoholic father and other addicts in and out of the house meant major events such as birthdays and holidays were spent wondering if X would make a scene and if Y would keep his shit together long enough to avoid a fight. That makes us sound like trailer trash, but this was hidden, as well as possible anyway. It was that typical suburbia type shit that wasn't always obvious to others. It never is when addicts are somewhat functional. Going to restaurants was the worst with everyone who wasn't drinking worried about what other people would think.The disgust, the worry, the disappointment, the embarrassment and the pain, the fucking, fucking pain of watching people wreck their lives and the lives of those around them was fairly constant.
When you blurt out, "I feel fat" or "I hate my life" ask yourself what you are seeking. What self reflection or introspection is taking place? When you state to others, "I didn't eat" or "I skipped a meal," how do you want and expect others to respond? Are you considering how these comments may affect those around you, and are you asking yourself what is it really that you need? Is it comfort, confirmation or acknowledgment? Or are you expecting the people listening to help you and tell you how to take care of yourself? I ask, because sometimes I haven't been clear when I have complained about certain situations.
Perhaps instead of repeating a phrase about our symptoms, we can begin to define the feeling, fear or concern in another way and get to the root of the issue. I mentioned before that early in my recovery, I used to always say, "I feel fat." If I'm not careful, this still comes out, and I'm forced to look at what it really means. Am I uncomfortable, afraid, tired or angry? Usually there's something deeper.
Yesterday, just as I was thinking about how uncomfortable I was feeling, someone else said that she was feeling out of sorts. Another lady agreed and we figured it must have been related to the changing pressure in the atmosphere or something. I often attribute everything to my thoughts and emotions. Sometimes there are physical causes relating to our experiences.
I don't think I'm alone when it comes to having trouble defining what makes me happy. Sometimes it's clear, and sometimes it's more vague. I can say that I'm happier when I'm in less pain, and because I tend to have some chronic conditions, it's not always easy to focus on what brings me joy. I do think that it's important to continually examine this question. For example, I wish I had someone asking me about my happiness when I was so miserable with my running.
I've lost my steam. Recently I have been writing and reading some fiction, and I can't seem to think straight at the moment.
*******************************************************************************
Words and sayings that annoy this week:
Manifest - This is the new age version of prayer (with about the same results), only more centered around the self and wishing rather than working to achieve desired outcomes. (See Betty Bowers or George Carlin on prayer)
Blessed - I'm not sure what this means, but people seem to use this word as some kind of euphemism for "My life sucks."
I know, I know, positive thinking and all that can have good effects. I don't dispute that. What bothers me is how people toss sayings around these days and expect change without taking any action. It reminds of of a great South park quote:
Cartman: Hippies.They're everywhere. They wanna save the earth, but all they do is smoke pot and smell bad.
I will say that I like original hippies from the 60s. They're a dying breed, though. Unfortunately, they are being pushed out by the new-age "I'm SO spiritual" hippie and the Whole Foods going, fake hippie. Oh shit. I occasionally shop at Whole Foods! Uh oh.
Wow, I'm all over the place in this post. I'm a little bit crabby, too. I better stop here.
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