Unwilling to Allow

My Spidey sense is tingling.

And it's not necessarily good.

The past two weeks I haven't hiked as my hiking partner was hiking the Canyon.

Someday!

Of course, that's a lame excuse for me not to hike, but there's that whole "partner" thing-I really prefer to exercise with someone else.

Oh, I'm still seeking to get fit (preferably without exercising if possible) but life has expanded in ways I never imagined-and moxie would be a definite asset in all areas of my life!  Being newly divorced and newly fired, I feel as if I am spinning in circles trying to find the right direction in my life....with limited success.  

The Air I Breathe

Time to make the donuts.

With a view like this from my pillow, why would I want to get up...nevertheless exercise?!?

I honestly look forward to hiking this morning.  Really, I do.

Yep, completely NuttZo.

Of course at this moment, however, I don't even want to move from my bed.

This is why most people don't exercise:  we hate it.

There's this great rule in business called the 80/20.  80% of the work is done by just 20% of the people.  It applies in nearly every organization-and in the world of exercise, while it seems everyone out there is "just do it" in truth only about 20% actually exercise regularly.  The difference between the fitness industry and all other businesses?  

The 20% make us feel guilty.

We 80% who don't exercise regularly, and indulge in Ruffles Sour Cream and Cheddar chips by the entire bag (Monday night) are made to feel bad.

Guilty!!!!  Apparently I'm not thin enough, or healthy enough or smart enough to know what is good for me.

If I don't take "my vitamins" I'm looked down upon.  If I don't "workout" I'm not dealing with stress properly.  

My stress release button was here on Monday.

Right now I'm unemployed, the sale on my house fell through and money is crazy  tight.  I had the worse eye ulcer I've ever had Monday night, on the tail end of a nasty cold sore.  I also hiked five times in eight days-three of them shreds that left me sore for days!  I'm doing my part to rid myself of the stress but let's be honest:

Sometimes exercise doesn't help anything, and can actually make things worse.

Thrice broken hand, anyone?

Today I knew my partner would likely have to cancel, but since I'm slow to climb the steep side I decided I'd head up anywise, and if he could squeeze in the hike he'd easily catch up.

Too many dang people going up the steep side.  Another reason I don't like it-it's what everyone does.

Let's talk about this climb, shall we?

It starts at the base of the Prescott National Forest.

A few minutes later-literally THREE MINUTES- and you are here:

Well over the treetops!!!!

Hm.  I think I forgot to brush my hair before I left the house.

Then it's the battle with the Air Monster-the continual fight to keep breathing:

Which involves continually putting one foot infront of the other.

Not as easy as it looks.

This guy has nothing on me!

Of course, the reward bench at the top gives a nice respite, and today, now officially sans partner, I decided to look around.

Afterall, I have time being unemployed and all.

But this I did not expect to find:

Is this where she died?

My heart plummeted in my chest.

Thumb Butte is the rare trail I'll do alone, because there is so much foot traffic on it.  Yet thirty years ago, Cathy Sposito was brutally murdered here. 

I headed back up the trail, momentarily hesitant to head down the not so steep side.

A friend called from Michigan, and we chatted as I hiked down.  Driving home, I reflected on my hike, my relationships and the opportunities I have right now.  

One year ago, I told the King I needed these things.  The postconcussion syndrome had thrown me for a loop; these little reassurances would have meant a lot.  Instead, my heart was broken not soon after my head had been cracked.

Im not settling for anything less than butterflies.

Afterall, this is my playground:

And this is my goal:

Black with a desert sand interior, btw.

I'll get there.  And with the right partner by my side.

The Day my Baby Drank from a Straw

Papago Park in Phoenix harkens back to the days before air conditioning and the rise of the Valley; nestled against it are two of the city's fair jewels, the Desert Botanical Gardens and the Phoenix Zoo.

Sigh....it almost glows, doesn't it?

Friday night was Agave on the Rocks, a tasting fundraiser for the Desert Botanical Gardens.  Lit sculpture and dramatic lighting dominated the walkways.

Water bottle art

War of the Worlds-like lighting

Dramatic mountainside illumination (and a great optical illusion!)

We wandered the trails for hours, drinking in the lights, grazing on the feasts and absorbing the sounds of conversations, music and nature.  Enchanting and seductive at the same time; the darkness lent itself to the interpretation.  In time my feet began to hurt, and my lower back ache, unaccustomed to standing for any length of time.  It reminded me of last year, and the constant throb in my lower back.

Why was it hurting now?  Why were my feet sore?  It felt good sitting down and singing along with a Xicano band; getting up to leave my back twinged again. Hmmm...what was going on?  The stress of the week catching up?

The next morning I woke up sore, like I had hiked instead of strolled.  I decided to head to Dutch Bros for a White Annihilator with an extra shot of espresso on ice, and thought the walk might do me good.  I stopped at the car to get my sunglasses, and laughed out loud.  Who was I kidding?

I parked and stood in line when I got there.

The guilt crept in a little bit then.  It was one city block.  I had driven it.  Driving back to the apartment I resolved to make up for it and went on a walk.

Tempe:)

I purposefully made it longer, and was rewarded by a sign.

"Stop living in reality start living your dream."  (A word is missing-which may be important, but in my case, is not.)

I know my dream.  To go back to owning my own business.  To control my destiny by what I put in.

Earlier, a friend in Michigan had posted this on their Facebook timeline.  June and Johnny, at Folsom State Prison.  I've been listening to a lot of Cash lately, in particular Folsom Prison Blues.

Granted, I've never killed a man to watch him die, but hearing a train whistle blowing holds a mystique.  I don't want to hang my head and cry because I let this opportunity slip by.  These days are precious-an unexpected gift of time.  What would I do with them?

As I contemplated that, I got ready for my next adventure:  the zoo.

Twenty years ago this month, I was widowed at 24, with a 3 1/2 month old baby.  In the weeks that followed I sought solace in Arizona, vacationing in Prescott and having a chance to be a new mom without the scrutiny of widowhood.  On my return trip home I spent the morning at the Phoenix Zoo; my four month old baby delighted me in drinking water from a straw.  With no social media to announce it, I recalled wanting to stand on the picnic table to let everyone know-I was so proud of my Little One.  Instead tears poured down my cheeks, the wave of widowed grief splashing momentarily against my joy.

Then, as now, I faced the world without a partner.  No cheerleader by my side.

But no devil's advocate, either.

My trip to the zoo was pure delight; the company incredible and just as enchanted as I.

Pink Champagne?

Prickly Pear in bloom.

We both couldn't stop snickering at the lions.  Juvenile entertainment but so fun to laugh!

The day ended with a drive back to Prescott; I could have stayed another day but I chose to return home.  Today I got my house in order, tomorrow I plot out my goals and my plan.

My old dreams have withered and died.

That's ok.

I have new dreams to make reality now.

Funny, my feet and back don't hurt anymore.

Eating Cookie Dough

No matter how hard we try to relieve stress, sometimes we've got to break out the big guns:

Cookie Dough.

Sans chocolate chips, because we are out, which is ok, because I'm not a big chocolate fan.

But I adore vanilla, and added an extra teaspoon.  Always double your vanilla!

Anywise.

This morning was very cold (some snow on the ground), but so beautiful!

Thumb Butte, steep side.

Ian and I had agreed I'd take a head start, seeing as he wanted to bust this out fast.  My twenty minute lead was reduced to two minutes when he arrived early; he quickly caught up and charged on ahead.

I don't mind that anymore.

The mountain lions will eat him first.

We met up a few times on the climb; my out of shape lungs dared me to conjure the Air Monster.  Surprisingly, I felt the cruise control kick in two switchbacks from the top, and I made my way to the reward bench to sit by my partner.

The view is the reward.  That's Granite Mtn. in the distance.  Yes, this photo is Ian's.

The trip down I kept up, jogging and skipping to keep up the pace.  We ended our hike 45 minutes after it began; that's my personal best.  Elated, I high-fived Ian and agreed to the Constellation next week.  The hikers high in full throttle, I headed home.

To a house in need of love and repair...not just physical, but mentally and spiritually as well.

I've desperately needed these days off-not just for the hiking but to decluttering my life.  I worked on my resume for several hours, and cleaned out my desk in an attempt to find an envelope.

Eek!  I need to find an envelope!

I started but didn't complete several projects, and left to pick up my youngest for a hair appointment.

Almost fourteen!

Four hours later, we are home, both with newly cut and highlighted hair.

Hence, the cookie dough.

A long day, but no partner to greet me at the door.  No arms to hold me as I climb into bed.  Not that I had those when I had a partner...

Cookie dough.  Sometimes, the best stress buster.

Or a message that pops up unexpectedly as you write a blog.  Those can de-stress, too.  Especially when it's been awhile and you've missed them.

I'm planning on hiking again tomorrow.  Really.  And I'll probably be singing along to Johnny Cash, too.

http://youtu.be/n5HRSmLlaiA

Hurtling Forward

Well, that was unexpected.

My last selfie at the museum, taken during my lunch break, I assure you!

Less than 24 hrs after being out of a job, we lose the sale on our house.

Did I mention I also got called for jury duty?  In Phoenix?  Over 100 miles away?

My response to it all?

On top of the world; hiking right away!

I was set free.

I have learned an important self truth:  I work best when I set the schedule.

My choice, my goals, my actions all result in my very best when I set the timeline.

So now it's go time.  I have but five weeks to make this work-figuring out not only what I want, but how to achieve it, and achieve it quickly.

Luckily, I live here.

This was my second hike in three days after my joblessness.

Of course the second hike I had my butt handed to me as I was hiking with Ian, but I digress.

Stress.  My face has the mark of it very visible on it; a vicious cold sore which erupted the morning I was let go.  I haven't been hiking in weeks, the sickness which had consumed the past six weeks had consumed what little energy I had left.  Anger over the mishandling of our home sale added to it; frustrations at work about did me in.  

Then this.

Instead of fear, I felt freedom.

"Thumb Butte Wednesday morning?" Ian had asked at the end of our Flume hike. I looked at him surprised-I forgot I didn't have to work.  He responded with a laugh.  "Welcome back to your old life!"

Indeed.

Only this time, I'll do it right.

Fitness Quest:  Keeping it real.

*full disclosure-the Flume pictures are Ian's.  I have a predilection for picking hiking partners who are much better photographers than myself!!

Reflections

It's been a year since I began the quest.

Celebration?!  Not with my face looking so round (hence you get a picture of my leg!)

It's Spring Break, I'm on a cruise ship anchored off Catalina Island and all is not quite well.

I'm sick, still.  My ear is throbbing and my throat is sore, my kids have been sick since we left and I cried this morning.

We have an offer on the house, you see.

So this is the end.

Or a new beginning.

Goals?  What goals?!

New starts, new beginnings...I trained in these for twelve years.  Few succeed.  Lately I feel every dream, every hope slipping away.  At least in the holding pattern it didn't seem to matter...but now it does.

I am reminded that the only "what if" I can ever change lays in front of me right now...

What if I take year off and travel?

What if I quit my job and buy an RV?

What if I do what my heart says and not my head?

There's no bail out in the end.

No safety net.

Exactly as I like it:

Ahhhhh!  What I need!!!

Who wants to come with me??

The High

I am stunned.

The Flume, breathtaking even in winter gloom...

I picked the Flume because it's an easier hike-I knew damn well I couldn't handle my beloved Butte.  Of course I didn't count on Ian making the Flume tougher by the circuitous route he took.

Some things never change...I'm well more than 40 paces behind!

So while it was tougher, and I hacked and coughed, it was do-able...much to my delight.  While far behind my hiking partner, I was able to keep pace and talk-neither things I thought I could do.  It felt good to be out, working up a sweat and drinking in the beautiful rocks, sky and water.  Each coughing fit cleared more gunk, and I could honestly breath better.  We finished up 40 minutes later, and I could not hide my delight.

Hiking had been worth it.

I felt tension roll off me as I scrambled to keep up.  I loved feeling the stretch in my leg muscles as I scaled the hills.  My head cleared and I felt better about decisions I'd been making, and gained confidence as I shared them with my partner.  I could feel the vestiges of illness shake free from my lungs, and breathing actually became easier as we progressed.

This was part of it...

We finished the hike and made plans for two weeks from now, as we both are out of town next week.  Driving home I could not believe my elation...and ruefully recognized the hiker's high.  

It's amazing what inspires us.

Hiking.  My stress-busting, concussion-curing friend.  Can you hear it?  It's the Canyon.  It's calling.

I must go.