The Horrible, Terrible and Not So Great Day

Only one asthma attack.  That's the answer.

 Ready to break-in my new Minimus 10v1 shoes by New Balance.

I had woke up sad.

There was no reason to be sad, but inveritably I was.  The night before I had snuck in some time with my oldest, and it was wonderful hanging out with my adult  daughter.

 Red Light selfies.  Like sitting AT a red light.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep (I went to bed at 1am, but still woke up at 6am), or perhaps it was the epiphanies I had had the afternoon before.

Oh.  Yes.

Epiphanie(s).

As in plural.

 Good lord.  There are rules?!?

In a Lululemon fitting room I had no fewer than three epiphanies:

1. Exercise bras and I will never work.  Ever. I hate  squeezing into them, and then I look prepubescent once I'm in.   No.  Just no.
2. Lululemon wants ridiculous amounts of money to feel naked.
3. My weight was in the critical zone.

Before you argue three, and tell me "I look great", let me tell you that you can't see or feel the extra weight due to my height.  I can.  I know my energy levels are down, and I know it's because I'm eating virtually only junk food.

Like lots of junk food.

 The four biggest perpetrators.

So "tomorrow is a new day?" Right?

Maybe that's why I woke up sad.

Or maybe it's because after seven weeks I'm still dealing with the fallouts of my New Years Eve allergic reaction.

Or because I'm a wee overwhelmed with the work still to be done.

Or because of the wicked headache I've had for over a week.

Or because the King moved back in.

Or because I was ghosted.

 

In honesty, it was the last one.

Regardless, I'm rarely sad.

 Pouty, yes.  Sad, no.

My tipping point was a call from a bill collector.  Yes, you read that right.  This girl with an 805 credit rating was chewed a new one over a bill that was erroneously billed to me instead of Workman's Comp.  I hung up crying, knowing that I shouldn't take it personally.  The stresses of the week got to me, and I just wept.  To the inquisitive mind, the greatest pain another can inflict is silence.  Not knowing.  Not allowing the scientific breakdown of facts and data.  Being ghosted?  It was too much.

 Lol-should have read that yesterday:)

Drying my tears, I set to work.  Ride opens in a week, the punch list is long.  At the top of the list was something that wasn't quite resolved yesterday, so I made that call first.

 Yeah.

The ensuing argument rattled me to my core.

More tears, lots of yelling, and my heart being ripped in two.

Then I received this:

 Flyboy (of course) sent it.

I called him driving home (said argument extended into a wicked drive to another city) and Flyboy (as always) listened as I sobbed.

Because he's awesome, even if he is a buckeye.

As I poured out my frustrations, he told me to ditch my planned morning activities and go for a hike or a run.  As BFF's typically tend to point us in the right direction.

So I drove to Dreamy Draw, made sure I had my inhaler, and set out for my first run in the valley in several weeks, knowing an asthma attack would likely occur despite the pre-puff.  Another call cheered me enough to get my head on straight; I determined I was going to have a good run.

 Setting out.

 At least there's light at the end.

 This was tremendous fun.

 And then I stopped.

 And apparently took multiple photos...

I was 1/4 of a mile in.

This attack was ruthless...it was the second time I felt scared in two weeks' time.  I had tried throttling slowly instead of quick bursts...it hadn't worked.  Regaining my breath took a few minutes, so I moped before resignedly deciding to hike instead.

 It's getting green.

 And this jump even I could see!

My heart grew heavy as the argument continued by text...and at some point I gave up.  I didn't want to argue.  I didn't want to be sad.  I just wanted to run.

So I did.  And I could breathe.

I ran for three songs, so about ten minutes, before I called it.  

I felt terrible.

I was breathless, but could breathe.  Plain and simple, I was out of shape.  And it just sucked.  

My glasses are never straight. 🙁

I made a video, but the sound didn't record.  Essentially, I bemoaned the fact there was no runners high, no endorphin dump, no feeling better.

It was just hard.  So very, very hard.

Exercise has been my nemesis since childhood.  Undiagnosed asthma prevented enjoyment of many activities, and uncoordination marked me as the last one chosen.  I thought about how much I had envied the Special Olympics kid's basketball team-truly envied them-because they got to play.  I never got to play.  And when I did?  I was terrible and told I was terrible.  There was no opportunity to get better.

Dejected, I started the drive back home; stopping for a large White Annhilator from Dutch Bros and a Big Mac meal (with an extra double cheeseburger on the side) from McDonalds.  Typically under stress, I don't eat.  Lately? The opposite.

I felt better.

Let's get real:  exercise made me hurt.  Food satisfied my soul.  This is why 80% of America struggles with weight.  Don't give me the shill about "just do it."  It's physiologically wired into us.

It's how we were born.

And then I saw this:

 Camelback Mountain, Echo Canyon trail side.

Th photo does not do justice to the sheer size and complexity.  As I drove down Lincoln towards Scottsdale, the mountain dominated my view.

I had hiked that, with little difficulty, less than a month ago.

It didn't matter what was happening now, I needed to simply move forward.

Not quit.

I've mentioned it before, but it bares repeating here.  While flying two years ago, I was seated next to a man who was a Navy SEAL.  Knowing my son aspired to such a position, I asked him for any advice.  He thought about it and replied:

"Everything they throw at you is designed to make you quit.  Just don't."

 My theology summed up in one verse.

The terrible day flashed before me anew as I drove south to an impromptu business meeting in Tempe.

 

Yes I was in sweaty running clothes.  Being a business owner is magnificent😎

If this day was designed to make me quit, I wasn't going to.  If this day was going to discourage me from exercise, I was sorely tempted to let it, but in the end I'd go at it again.  It was a choice, and I alone stood at the crossroads of a "what if."

My mind again renewed, I had an incredible meeting and went back to work.

I may be a Sharpie addict.  😳

It had been a terrible day.

But I survived.  The argument of earlier in the day was resolved, apologies given and received.  Real work got done in a dedicated three hour slot in which I was focused and on task.  The meeting was fantastic, and gave me a good shot in the arm of encouragement.  Jenny came down for the evening, and we enjoyed sushi and a favorite band.

 At Geisha A Go Go Sushi Lounge

After I ate my 52 million junk food calories I could have just given up.  Most would not have faulted or blamed me for going straight to bed after drinking a bottle of wine.

Instead, I recognized this day as one designed to make me quit.

And I didn't.

 

Temporary Perceptions

He saw it, and I did not.

 Rocks, right?

The tell-tale tire track snaked straight towards the outcropping, and my former-mountain-bike-racer-turned-hiking-partner pointed out the perfect approach.

Intrigued, I clambered up the boulders, only to be horrified at the steep drop off the other side.

 Showing off the "easy" descent to my discombobulated shadow.

"It's really only a drop of this much" claimed the Sheriff, holding his hands 8" apart.  "Your front tire only has a short drop, but your tendency is to look to your sides and see that drop."  I laughed, knowing it had to be over 8' and commenting that his 8" was still too much for me to handle.  In his perspective, it was not.

This hike on the Constellation was my first since I blogged about it last fall; immediately I was taken with the desire to run it.  The easy elevation change and the rock studded terrain distracted me from my sudden inability to find trails...it seemed different somehow.

Ugh.  Can someone just feed me and tell me exactly when to exercise so I can lose some weight?  

It used to be emotionally hard to hike this trail, when I could see work and dreaded it.  When I first hiked it I couldn't even breathe.  Not so now.

Now I'm itching to run it.

 No one told me it was addicting!

One of my favorite reasons to hike Constellation is the possibility of finding pieces of airplane wreckage from a 1959 crash.

We did amazingly well!!

I call it a treasure hunt.  Others call it disturbing a gravesite (please note, while five airmen died, they were buried elsewhere.)

The zipper pull from??

In my perspective - a fabulous fun adventure.  It's even free...and to find a piece with writing on it?  Priceless.

All items found are thrown in a heap-it's an amazing site--for me.  Others are disturbed by it.  Again, perspective.

Tonight I attend a special Olympics basketball game.

It was tremendous fun:)

Normally, I'm not a basketball fan.  My memories of playing the game are full of derision and scorn; I was not coordinated and despite my height, lacked any skill to actually play.  Tonight I marveled at how everyone got to play, and seemed to have true fun.  Yeah, they got yelled at for throwing elbows and the like, but it didn't appear anyone was getting picked on like I used to.

 Been there.  Like the majority of my school years.

I'm very happy as of late; my business opens soon and while there's still much to do it's my company.  This means the 50+ hours a week I work are as nothing...because I'm turning my idea and dream into a reality.

 I love the reflection of my feet:)

So my perspective on life, while always positive in general, has changed.

I get to do what I love, to benefit those I love.

I can think of no better thing.

 

 

 

 

Shocked

The King is back.

 Me right now.

In a shocking turn of events, we both quit our jobs and started our own companies within three weeks of each other.

Good lord.

Last Sunday, I'm all about beekeepers, new ideas, giving up on Metallica fans and pushing my new company forward.

 A visit to the Meadery was a delight in more ways than one.

This week as I secured Cherry Bomb (cart #5) and planned Greenie's transformation I suspected I knew what was coming.  Visiting with the Traveller I had the opportunity to verify my own beliefs, and texts with the Beekeeper challenged me in every way that was good. 

 Manchild and I had a Little Date at ERAU, our first in ages.

 The Princess and I went to Topgolf and then surprised business partner Kyle for his birthday the next day.

All in all, a spectacular week...despite a terrifying asthma attack on Wednesday while on Thumb Butte.

Dang high altitude.  Apparently you can lose your high altitude lungs in two weeks.

Check!

 

At this point in my Fitness Quest I seem endless stuck in trials.

Or crises.

And now?

It begins again.  The King is back, but not as my lover, not as my soulmate.

How in the hell this will work is everyone's question but mine.

If I danced with the devil once before, it's much easier this time to anticipate his lead...

And not get stepped on.

That and Manchild thanked me...he's missed his dad so much.

Every doubt was erased in that second.

Even if it puts me twelve steps back, and creates an awkward situation for me.

I'm a mom.

For just three more years with kids in the home...

 

Might be a tad anxious 😳

And yes, I know, these days go fast.

So for now...I'll be looking for a sanctuary.

Pretty certain I might know where to find one.

Lessons

I met a beekeeper this weekend, whose golden honey I didn't get to taste.

I like the slightly crunchy crystallized bits.

An outlier like myself, beekeeping was just one of his many interests....and the longer we chatted, he began to draw correlations between our personalities.

"But what if..."

And off we'd go.

It was the first time in a long time I'd been challenged to think of possibilities, instead of offering them.  I loved the conversation.

This world seems to be one of societal absolutes; there is popular opinion, politically correct opinion, scientific opinion, etc.  Meet anyone of a different opinion than you and suddenly walls go up.  Each position takes a side, and neither listens with intent.

Like this Super Bowl Ad:

Is this in support of illegal immigration, the American Dream or both?

Conservatives felt it was terrible, a cruel blow to any one who'd lost a love one to crime perpetrated by any illegal in the last 100+ years.

Liberals loved the emotional visuals, and the message all should have a chance at freedom (unless you disagree, than get off my campus and give me my safe space.)

While I'm over here weeping, empathizing with the journey and the missed opportunity to getting both sides to think.

No mother among us did not identify with this woman, brave enough to try and secure a better life for her child.

But a wall with an unlocked door?

If and when a wall is built, the door will be guarded and locked.  It's simply how it will be. This fantasy ending ruined (for me) a message that had the opportunity for both sides to think.  The answer is not the simple fairytale the commercial portrays, and it is actually something the left should question.  You want the open right to come here, but what then?  What we do now doesn't work....and the problems grow sevenfold for illegals.  

The question for the right?

Where is the end of the line for a woman like this?

A woman courageous enough to make a dangerous journey into the unknown, seeking a better life for herself and her child?  The classic American story, is it not?  "Go to the end of the line" is the over spoken response.  Would you not think if she knew where this line was she would not find it?

We can Google the answer, to discover this line.  We'd find it involves lawyers and legal fees and more money than she'd ever have.  Google, however, is something she does not have, nor does she have money.  She has nothing but stories and hope.  Hope that built over time until she could no longer ignore its pull.  Joy that bubbled up in her as she made the decision to make the leap, hoping for the best for her child, knowing the hours and days and weeks would be long, even after she made the decision to go.

Yes, she knew she wasn't doing it the "right" way.  But any other way?  Who was there to guide her?

 

Hmmm....seeing some interesting correlations here...

My journey back to the land of entrepreneurship is fraught with perils.  My safety net of an income-earning spouse is gone, and I know I'm not doing it quite right (not illegally, but without the guidance I'd love to have.)

Technically, I know where the end of the line is.  I'm in it, and doing what I know to do to open my company.  It's a risk--much is at stake, but I do it as I must make a better life for myself and my children.

Not unlike the immigrant in the ad.

The difference?  I have no fantasy door to walk through to freedom.  I have hours of work ahead of me that I thrive on.  Despite the stress and the ups and downs, I have a deep knowing I am on the right path.

Like learning to enjoy doing things by myself.

 

Only one shadow.

My "bad" hike with a surly partner reminded me how nice it is to learn a skill without commentary; I thought  often on it during my "bad" trail run later in the week.

I had been sooooo looking forward to that run.

 That ended pretty quick.

An asthma attack in the first mile that left me shaken. Then horrendous calf cramps that were so bad I had to sit down and rest.

Getting up, everything clicked, and I ran...and then had a bad poke on my left foot (I run in minimus shoes--it's like the toe shoes but no crazy toes) and I twisted my foot in response.

I literally stomped-limped off the trail.

But it was only me.  No one had seen my three failures.  No one was there to be critical, or to tell me to "suck it up."  My try and fail moment was mine.

I liked that.

So I went to Topgolf by myself the next morning.

 In this sunshiny morning light....:)

Twenty plus years ago, I had tried golf and failed.  Many tears and much frustration--my poor Knight gave up even suggesting it as it was so bad.  Recently I had tried it and found after my initial trepidation I enjoyed it...I had a good instructor, too, so that helped. Could I do it alone with just the one lesson?

Why no one every proposed golf to me as a thinking strategy game before...

There was a thinking strategy here, too.

I enjoyed my time tremendously; with a wee bit of arrogant confidence I can say I have an amazing chip shot.

Can't get the ball past 90yds....but hey!  It's a success I'll hopefully grow.

And I liked not having anyone there...in this instance, while I was applying a new skill set.

In trail running, I'm completely self taught.  I did have to go to others for help, and quite honestly I know I'm still landing wrong, but I've basically learned it on my own.

Pretty sure I can't do that with golf.

The bit I did learn I loved applying, but I'm cognizant that I need more actual lessons to succeed.

And it would be amazing to have that instructor back😜

Whether it be exercise or my new business, this journey I'm on is much like that immigrant in the ad.  I would like more guidance, but am not certain where to find it.  I know the destination, and much like the child, I am finding bits of beauty along the way.  I've come up against many walls already, but there's been no golden unlocked door to let me through them (and perhaps that's why I get so angry when the argument ends there.)  Forward momentum and not taking my eyes off the end goal keep me moving...whether it's a goal of running up and down Piestewa Peak, to open successfully in 17 days or just to hit a golf ball more than 90yds.

Fitness quest:  I'm learning how to exercise, and what exercise works best for me.  Who'd have thought that I'd discover so much about myself along the way?

Air Time

I'm flying today.

 My happy place-Sky Harbor.

Call me silly, but I loved being a frequent flyer.  I'm on my third flight in three weeks, and take off next week again.

Recompense.

Yesterday was by far one of the best days ever.  I bought a golf cart and named her Betty Boop.

 My fourth cart:). She joins Red Ride, Greenie & Honky.

Can you tell how delighted I was?

This week has been a roller coaster...it's a good thing I'm overly fond of such amusements.  I'm a very sentimental girl with a memory that is sometimes too good...how often I wish I could simply forget.

 

Life would be easier.  Much easier.

The fact is this:  the past, whether thinking of it, explaining it or rehashing it, is the past.  There's no changing it.

Crying over it not only stops my forward momentum, but literally spins me in the wrong direction.

 Which is harder?  Up or down?

When trail running up or down a steep section, hesitating is typically what results in a fall, that and not picking up your feet.  I am now pretty certain I have a scar from my first fall during my first attempt at trail running, all those months ago.  It delights me!!  What an amazing momento of the start of that personal journey!

And yet the scars on my heart I weep over.

Wow.

Why do I blog?  For moments like this.  The cathartic nature of writing; the "aha" moments.

I am well able to celebrate the scars of my journeys.

All of them.

"Rejoice for the steps of the righteous man are ordered of God."  Psalms 37:23

Long ago, I came to despise winter.  I dreaded its return in spring, so badly did the cold hurt.  One year I purposed in my heart to look for beauty amongst the dreary frozen landscape, and remarked how beautiful the bare trees looked on both skies of gray and blue.  

 

The branches lacy displays brought respite from the harsh cold and the ache it brought my body.  Imagine my joy that spring when I noticed buds and the appearance of green long before I had in past years; the emerging foliage restoring hope of warmer days long before they actually occurred.  The appreciation for those bare branches still lingers even as I have moved to a warmer climate; the memory of those cold days no longer holding dread.

 

How beautiful is the lacy pattern of scars on my heart....each jagged line healed and my heart still beating strong.  How beautiful is each moment I had hope, and what a tapestry it has created.  The simple joys I've experienced far outweigh the moments of hurt...I've been very lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

When I fell that first day trail running, I didn't know that I was cut until later when I peeled off my running capris.  It didn't stop me from running, nor did more falls on subsequent runs.  Instead they invigorated me-battle scars that proved I was learning something new, that I hadn't stopped trying.  Recent successful runs have given me great joy; while my endurance is still very limited, I'm loving the journey...even when asthma attacks cause me pause and frustration.  My goal is to be able to run up any mountain in the valley--a very tall order for this girl with unpredictable lungs--and I have no agenda or timetable for that goal.  It will happen if I simply keep moving forward, doing what I know to do.

So shall it now be with my heart.

Air time.

It's good for me.