The Berber has Eyes

Eight of them...All looking at me right now.

Some days I feel completely spent. Today is one of them. Noting yesterday's run -- no, that isn't it. I don't know what it is, but it seems like I've been this way for my entire conscious life. I'm a woman who needs rest and quiet. Not at the end of the day, but at the beginning of the day. At the beginning of this day.

So, I'm here on my king-sized platform bed listening to AnteMeridian on www.wcbe.org and I look up noticing Orange, Pauli, Higgs and Jae all in the circumference of this room...watching me. Do they sense my need for rest? Do they wonder if I am I alright? Do they have the capacity to consider their losses this year (Goldie, Poppy and, of course, Michael) and project my apparent listlessness into the future?

I don't think so. I think they're just watching so they don't miss any action.

I like to think that I'm resting so that I don't miss any action. I certainly can't project any of my experience into the future. I can just exist in what is now. I do believe that finding stillness in now is essential to my wellness.

...and the plush Berber (it's 30% vegetable oil) is almost as comfy a place to prepare for what's next as this bed.

Waay tooo looong

Funny [sic] what it sometimes takes to knock sense into me.

Last night I participated in a rather disturbing conversation regarding the loss of my job just over two years ago. Went to bed upset, awoke upset, drove upset, participated in a charrette...yeah, you got it...upset.

But the state of my mood (or maybe just the act of putting words to my frustration) seems to have had a positive effect. I did get up at 4:45 am and not dawdle out of the house. I did get to the place I needed to be. I did eat healthfully all day long. I did come home and fix a meal rather than snack. I did go for a run. I did not drink any wine (though there's still time). ; )

Snuck it in there... you read it...YES -- I DID GO FOR A RUN. A mile and a half. Outside. For the first time in over two years (and I cannot actually remember how long but at least that long) I went for a run. My firing, the back injury, the death, the move (okay, all four moves), the house, the job...the excuses.

Today for the first time in over 28 years I didn't have the steam to run 2 or more miles. I could feel my flabby gut, chin, neck, face, biceps, hamstrings jiggling down the road for a nice, slow 15 minutes. I could feel my breath out of sink, my heart beating in my chest, my aches and pains...I could see the blurriness from the early stages of my cataracts.

As I ran by people half my age...I wondered: Do they know? Do they know how old I am (not)? Do they see me move slowly, but with good form? Do they wonder how I got in such shape or do they think I'm finally starting to exercise later in life? Do they know?

Do I know?

Do I feel more like myself? Absolutely. One mile at a time.

(Gratitude for these lightly used Asics)