One of my well known shoe rules is that I have to be able to run in them. That includes the 4" heels because I'm going to have to run to keep up with you or one of the other 6'+ men in my life or make a mad dash for a train, which inevitably involves at least one flight of stairs. There's method in the ankle-strap madness.
Two days ago I sucked up my various favorite excuses, pulled on sneakers, yoga pants, and a top designated for exercise and actually hit the bike path/walking trail behind my house with the intention of starting Couch to 5K.
Twenty minutes, combination of walking and running. I let me new Fuze choose music based on the genre designation of "Pop" and headed down the trail.
Explain this to me. That trail is usually empty when I head out with a podcast for a walk. I can go all the way to the Mexican restaurant at the end and back and see a half dozen people total. Why on earth were there 4,000,000 people on the trail then when I went out to alternate between walking and running?
Anyway, while I excel at the 4" heel, wearing a skirt, half tipsy mad dash for the train, actually jogging in sneakers while trying to keep my headphones in--seriously I must have the wrong fit on those things--was less than incredible. But I did it. About 11 minutes down the trail (3.5 ish songs) I turned back. I probably didn't have enough jogging in my ratio of walk to jog for Ct5K but I jogged.
Then I came home and lay down on the floor with my feet over my head and griped at the cat about the back of my legs hurting. I need to do more yoga. I like the 20 minutes and done then though.
Now then, I have to do it again today. Wish me luck and fewer people on the walking trail.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Episode 51: Romantic Pragmatist
As we sat talking, I realized for all the love stories I read, own, and share with friends, I'm rather pragmatic about this whole "falling in love and finding the one" thing. He seemed to absolutely believe and his passion, his description of hopeful searching, left me bemused, unsure of the appropriate witty comment.
It's not that I don't believe in romantic love, I do. I've met people who share it between them, some married, some not. I've also attended more than one wedding where it wasn't there. At times I've seen the bride or groom's affection and practicality and said "okay--they at least have that." Other times I'm standing in the back, watching the pictures being taken and wondering, worrying about divorce proceedings.You know that, we've talked about those weddings.
But I'm not sure I see it as something I expect for myself. It's not a feeling I'm actively seeking. I excel in my pickiness--call it shallow, call it self-protective behavior, call it what you will. There's a veneer and a shine on top of my feelings, for while it's easy--so easy--to love, to adore my friends, to draw so many close, it is nearly impossible to find someone s so special that I push the rest of the world away.
Of course, if this were a romance novel, the man who I'm supposed to fall madly into romantic love with would appear in 5...4...3..2.. and we'd need to have at least 150 pages of bickering while we attempt to suppress an undeniable attraction. Too Jane Austen?
I spoke to others about a friend's recent marriage. We're all optimistic about the relationship. And yet in the same breaths we debated not only who we felt was in a bad long term relationship, but whose divorce we might be quietly internally cheering. That number is low, few and far between of course, but the reality is we don't know what all happens behind closed doors, we're not in the relationships, and though the majority of my friends are marrying later, in their late twenties, and post-higher level education, and after living together, we'll still see disasters, messy breakups, midnight phone calls with people crashing on couches, hurt, destroyed friendships, all of that. No one really knows who, or when, or how, but we strive for our friends that it not be that way, that we see and know and love the exceptions--the ones with whom we may celebrate Golden Anniversaries.
But for me, for now, I think I'll hang out on the sidelines, keeping you and my other friends closest, the boys at arms reach, and the air mattress available for when somebody needs a place to crash and think.
It's not that I don't believe in romantic love, I do. I've met people who share it between them, some married, some not. I've also attended more than one wedding where it wasn't there. At times I've seen the bride or groom's affection and practicality and said "okay--they at least have that." Other times I'm standing in the back, watching the pictures being taken and wondering, worrying about divorce proceedings.You know that, we've talked about those weddings.
But I'm not sure I see it as something I expect for myself. It's not a feeling I'm actively seeking. I excel in my pickiness--call it shallow, call it self-protective behavior, call it what you will. There's a veneer and a shine on top of my feelings, for while it's easy--so easy--to love, to adore my friends, to draw so many close, it is nearly impossible to find someone s so special that I push the rest of the world away.
Of course, if this were a romance novel, the man who I'm supposed to fall madly into romantic love with would appear in 5...4...3..2.. and we'd need to have at least 150 pages of bickering while we attempt to suppress an undeniable attraction. Too Jane Austen?
I spoke to others about a friend's recent marriage. We're all optimistic about the relationship. And yet in the same breaths we debated not only who we felt was in a bad long term relationship, but whose divorce we might be quietly internally cheering. That number is low, few and far between of course, but the reality is we don't know what all happens behind closed doors, we're not in the relationships, and though the majority of my friends are marrying later, in their late twenties, and post-higher level education, and after living together, we'll still see disasters, messy breakups, midnight phone calls with people crashing on couches, hurt, destroyed friendships, all of that. No one really knows who, or when, or how, but we strive for our friends that it not be that way, that we see and know and love the exceptions--the ones with whom we may celebrate Golden Anniversaries.
But for me, for now, I think I'll hang out on the sidelines, keeping you and my other friends closest, the boys at arms reach, and the air mattress available for when somebody needs a place to crash and think.
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