5 Years On

Blogs are dead. This thing called blogger might be as much a wasteland as Google+. I don't really know. Five years ago, I was already late to the concept of blog-as-personal-diary. Five years ago, I was a little down, I had my first, shiny, new MacBook and I decided to publish a lame diary. I tied it to Lent and, once I went back yesterday to read my initial entries, I remembered I had danced as my Lenten observation. Totally forgot the dancing.

Five years on, I have my second, shiny, new MacBook. I'm feeling vague, ineffective and overwhelmed. Cycling and recycling.

Today is Presidents' Day and I'm off from work (sorta). I decided to go to an old coffee shop haunt of mine, as a treat, and tap out some lines on this NEW laptop. The last time I hung out at this place, I was writing copy for a decorating/gift catalog and this was my office. Now, I'm a teacher/principal/business operator. Instead of this place being my office, it's an escape from my real work, my treat to myself.

Considering I forgot already what I put out there five years ago, and considering this guy says none of it will last long into the future, the point is only in the doing. I'm doing for today.

Thanks for the memories

I can't remember why Lent, of all things, motivated me to begin blogging in the ancient days of 2010. Perhaps if I read myself, I wouldn't have to try to remember. Lent starts Wednesday. I might be in the mood to write again. If I remember to follow through on this idea on Wednesday, I will go for 40 days.

And just as I was about to insert the disclaimer that I am not religious, etc, etc, I have to go right now and wash dog slobber off the front door. The minister and her family are coming for dinner.

I get a peaceful, easy thinking

Do you know what I find so boring to read about? Exercise. Do you know the only thing I want to blog about these days? Exercise. Do you hate rhetorical questions? Exercise. It's the answer to everything.

I've been thinking a whole lot about working out. Thinking about working out is the easiest kind of thinking. It's so simple to think about what is on the plan for tomorrow or what I accomplished today or last week or last year. I can think about how noble and awesome I am for making my goals or I can chastise myself for not. So easy.

I know when I spend a lot of time focused on one thing, especially one easy thing, it's because I'm avoiding something else. Right now, I need to do some hard thinking, and doing, with regard to my next career move. I am supposed to (but don't) write fiction every week for my writers' group - getting my mind in that mode is way harder than thinking about exercise. If I focus on running, I don't have to think about politics or morality, finances or family. It's a non-threatening topic and requires no real analysis or mental effort.

Working out is physically difficult for many people and finding motivation is an even more common problem. But, everyone can think about exercise, whether they do it or not. Forget all your cares, people, forget struggling with big philosophical issues - just think about exercise. Don't talk about it, though. It bores the shit out of everyone around you.

Working It Out

Oh, the halcyon days when exercise was fun and easy. I'm kidding! Exercise was never fun nor easy for me but I do remember doing jumping jacks to this song. (Good old Wonderama!)

With the long slog through middle age, exercise has gotten more urgent and necessary  - and complicated and sweaty and techie.

Last October, I ran the Odessa Crossroads Marathon in majestic West Texas. A couple of weeks ago I signed up to do the October 2012 Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC. Races in October are lovely but the long training runs throughout a balmy Texas summer is a whipping. (Bring it.)(Okay, I find myself saying things like Bring It so perhaps I'm having a little fun.)

Speaking of balmy, I have added a second exercise to my routine: hot yoga. I brought my friend Katherine with me last week and she wrote about it on her blog. So, sweat, yeah. Sweating is my thing, I guess.

And now that I am a freaking WORKOUT QUEEN, I simply cannot keep track of all my feats of speed, endurance and flexibility without some social media-generated positive reinforcement. I'm tracking my feats on Fitocracy. I don't so much care about the social part but I like keeping a record.

If you don't hear from me tomorrow, it's because I'll be agonizing over my training schedule to take me through the next seven months. It's agony for me only because I've never planned anything lasting seven or more months, other than two of my three pregnancies.

A New Year

Kept thinking I'd write something again. Maybe start on my birthday... New Year's Day? Start again at the beginning of Lent? Sure. Now here I am at the end of Lent and I'm finally weaseling my way back onto the internets.

Why now? Something about this time of year is unsettling for me. Not in a bad way. I'd always thought the back-to-school season was my true new year what with all the transition and new lunch boxes. But spring is proving to be my turning-over-new-leaf-time and well, duh. It is spring after all.

It doesn't feel all funky fresh like I think spring should, though. It is unsettling, this time of growth and change. I mean, spring cleaning is no picnic and picnics are the most over-rated form of eating out EVER. The pastel clothing makes no sense and I'm all clogs or sandals? So, I'm here, not at a neat, tidy moment, bringing my clean slate to the table. I'll unsettle myself and shake out the cobwebs and maybe by summertime I'll be shiny and new.

How Does This Thing Work Again?

I don't have a lot of tenacity, but I can lie to you for 75 straight days!

Shelf Control

Remember the hole we knocked into the wall to access space under our stairs? The remnants of the vintage poster are still mostly intact. Doesn't she look pretty all tarted up with party lights?

Uh oh, I think someone is trying to kick us out from the little under-the-stairs room.

Hey, wait, is that a door?

Where'd she go?

They'll never find us now. (Especially since "they" don't read this blog.)