Making it Quick

Some things happen quickly.

Cedar Point's Maverick (of course.)

Other things take a lot of time.

Or just seem to take a long time...

I thoroughly expected to get fit quickly; I never expected to be winded on Thumb Butte ten weeks into the quest.

My heart was pounding, I was swigging water to keep up the pace.  I had run into a time crunch; once again forgetting just how far out my favorite hike was from town.  Determined not to waste a second, I threw myself into it.  So what if it was the steep side?  

Yeah-let that sink in.

So what if it was the steep side?

I willingly went left.

The air monster appeared, I pushed past.  Tomorrow I have a hard hike; today needed to be a good precursor.  I hadn't hiked since Friday, and that was more of a walk.

A gorgeous walk, but a walk.

A new resolve perhaps?  Deciding the fastest way to get to easy was to go through hard?

I'm tired of exercise being hard.  I'm tired of waking up hurting, wishing things were different.  Instead of crying, instead of whining, today I did something different.

I went after it.

In all things, this appears to apply.

Is this the difference between the 20% who love to exercise and the rest of us?  

Is it because they push hard to get to the easy? (I need to spend more time with Miles Vorkosigan apparently, seeing as just this one quote is changing my views.)

Whomever has my copy of Young Miles, please return!!  

This afternoon I completed a tough task out of breath but determined.  While the air monster had burned me before (and showed up just the same) I decided to get what I wanted and needed.  The hike down was a time of introspection; did the end justify the mean?  My hiker's cough started almost immediately, it's actually continued throughout the evening.

Yet I feel different.  Perhaps this is a type of exercise high; normally I feel nothing but drained.

Tonight, I feel alive.

The Return of the Corn Star

Last week, I really struggled with fitness.

I felt like this most of the week.

I had hiked the Canyon for the second time, and did not feel the need to do anything else for the week.

Except hate on chihuahua's.

While Pilates intrigued and saw some fruit, why bother hiking?  Why continue the quest?  My clothes fit, so...

This is the skirt that started it all.  On 2/7, it rippled on the sides.  Not anymore.

It all boiled down to this:  it was my wedding anniversary to the King.

West Fork hike, last Friday.

For some time now, I'd marked our 17th anniversary as a fresh starting point.  1 plus 7 equals 8...and lately 8's had been cropping up with increasing regularity.

The tire from STS-88.  Seriously.

That meant serious fitness, serious work, serious marriage, serious housework, serious mothering.

I don't do serious well.

So last week was my meltdown (not coincidentally, it coincided with PMS) and this weekend was a mini-getaway.

Bacon, brie, arugula & Dalmatia fig sandwich.  Seriously delicious.

It reminded me that the King is my match.

He hasn't left me despite my tiara, or my repeated demands for selfies.

Yes, it's the start of our 18th year.  Next year is our golden anniversary, because it's 18 years on the 18th.  Given my obsession with 8's, this is significant.  What I could not have predicted was my own mid-life crisis, leaving me questioning everything.

So, I need to let go of hating exercise, since I need the stress relief.

I need to let go of my tiara, and take pride in my home and family.

I need to let go of my doubts and insecurity, and work through the unknown in my new career.

It's a big day tomorrow.

Hoping I'm up for it.

Can I be one again?