1 month + 3 miles = new me.
I used to measure my walks with the dogs in minutes. Oh I walked for 45 minutes—and barely managed to walk around three or four blocks. Other dogs, traffic, the pack pulling and stopping and being jerks. Now I find myself basing my walks based on distance, not time. Yesterday was hectic. I got up late, I was at work until 6:30, I had to drop off money at my boss’s house, which added 20 minutes to my trip home despite it being in the same direction—but once you get off 80/94 traffic is a bear. I was going to stop at my sister’s work for a “mixer” the cafe was having for members and non-members of the fitness club. It meant free food which I hadn’t really eaten any of—snacking too much on Pringles and Ho-Ho’s at work. I know, I know. I wasn’t proud of myself. But some days are just like that. I almost didn’t go, but considering I had to drive by the health club to get home it would’ve been stupid not to go in. So I stayed longer than I should have but had samples of food and smoothies, ordered a very strange sandwich the likes of which I’d never had before (marble rye, roast beef, pepperjack, regular and dijon mustard, mayo, lettuce, onion and cucumber—it was delicious) and a cappuccino oreo smoothie that was also just what I needed. Of course then I needed to do some grocery shopping, pick up chicken for the dogs at my dad’s house, and by the time all was said and done I didn’t get home until 10 p.m. I didn’t go to sleep until 2 a.m. because I had so much to do. Dishes, cooking, feed the dogs. I shouldn’t feed Israel at night because he turns into a cranky pants. Restless and agitated. He sits and stares at me with such unease I have to yell at him to just go lay down and leave me alone. I did made Polenta Lasagna via Fatfree Vegan with the soy milk and tofu I bought at Meijer that evening. I had never made polenta before either—-but it turned out all right. It’s tricky—reminding me of the persnickety nature of biscuits. I’ve never eaten tofu or consumed soy milk. The filling is made of sauted onion (which I didn’t have so I had to make a last minute trip to PayLow where I bought three huge sweet potatoes for $.18/lb along with the onion and took Judah with me), portabella mushroom and kale. I’ve never eaten kale—I fed it to my rabbits, but never dined on it myself. Then into that goes the “cheese” sauce—made from tofu, vegetable broth, spices, soy milk, and corn starch—and you cook it until it thickens up. I had to test it for seasoning tweaks and found myself hesitating at the foreign lumpy mass in the pot. Kale?? Mushrooms?? TOFU?!? SOY MILK!?! What was I thinking?? I took a deep breath and grabbed a spoon, dipping it into the mixture and taking out a small bite to see if I needed to add more salt. It was not easy. I was scared. Literally scared of what it might taste like. And then I put it in my mouth and wouldn’t you know? It tasted like really good food. Who wuddya thunk? Finally I went to bed, the sink full of dishes again (BLAST!) but too tired to care. I set my alarm and wouldn’t you know I woke up before the alarm because I was finished sleeping?? It’s a crazy new phenomenon. One of my new nightly rituals is flossing, brushing and rinsing with mouth wash. I have bad gums (don’t even get me started on the ANUG flare-ups…rather than stomach ulcers brought on by stress, I get ulcers on my gums. FUN TIMES.) and I never floss because it just hurts so badly even if I keep up with it consistently. I’m going to suffer through because flossing is so important and takes less than a minute. So since my dentist appointment I’ve made a point of making sure no matter how tired or distract I am that I floss, brush, rinse. There I was at 8:30. The sun was shining. The dogs were cautious—was I just getting up to turn off the alarm before hiding under the covers again? I let them out. I made breakfast (Medifast scrambled eggs), filled up my water bottle, put on my sports bras, my shoes, grabbed my keys, packed up the dogs (pinch collars, no-pull harness, leashes) and headed out the door a little after 9. Not bad. It was chilly but it ended up being very warm with the sunshine and the fast clip I was walking at. I just discovered a couple weeks ago that the trail I usually drive two miles to get to is .6 miles from my house so I walked there. Already I’m ahead of the game if I can get in a mile just walking to the trail. But I did one better. I got to the trail (not easy when Indiana doesn’t believe in sidewalks for more than two or three consecutive blocks) and I headed west. I walked all the way to Cleveland—which is about two miles from my house (depending on trajectory, so probably less distance given the straight shot the trail takes). It took me only a half hour to walk to the trail, get on the trail, walk all the way to Cleveland and back. Poor Simona was in her sweater because I thought it would be cold out. I ended up taking it off of her because she was panting. I was sweating and keeping a good pace, which I assume was about 3 MPH. The dogs are great at walking now and mostly stay next to me, at the most they walk ahead of me but I only have their leash handles looped around my wrist without holding them and they don’t pull. Judah was panting. Israel was very serious—he is all business on a walk—and Simona is the best walker out of all of them because she respects the pinch collar and doesn’t walk ahead of me. I made it back to my house an hour after I left it, I figure I walked at least 3 miles. I felt full of vim and vigor. The dogs drank a bowl of water and passed out on the couch. I mixed the vanilla and chocolate Medifast shakes together otherwise the vanilla flavor is intolerable and had that for a mid-morning snack. I showered, dressed, and was headed out the door with some very tired dogs sleeping soundly. I walk with a purpose now. I walk quickly, like I’ve got somewhere to be. But the biggest point is that I walk. It’s such a fundamental movement. It’s essential for dogs. They are never happier than when they’re either tearing into a piece of meat or taking a long walk and dreaming of catching that bird, rabbit or squirrel that dashes across the trail. This will hopefully become another habit. I’m trying to take things on slowly, add them into the routine, make room for them. I usually succeed. It’s not a magic potion, there’s no special phrase, no trick or pill. It’s a battle every day to find the motivation and desire to do the things I need to do. It’s been a month now. March 9th was a Monday. The day before was a hellish nightmare. It felt like the rug got pulled out from under me, my heart had been trampled, I was in a tailspin. The next afternoon I stopped crying and despite the cold I went for a walk and got on the Gazelle for an hour. Since then I’ve kept it up, I’m eating better, trying to eat whole foods as much as possible. I drink a lot more water (I didn’t drink a lot of pop or juice prior) and I feel completely different. Not necessarily better or worse, just very different. That’s almost as important as “better”. Tonight I’m having my sister and Anna over for dinner. I’m making sweet potato fries and seitan BBQ “ribs” as well as steamed vegetables. I’m going to drink some of my pomegranate cranberry green tea with raw, organic agave nectar as a sweetener instead of sugar. I think something else I’ve noticed is that I don’t have to love everything I do. If it’s better for me, then I just need to do it. It’s a case of the end justifying the means. Will this be a journey of self-discovery where I magically find mysel when I get to the proverbial end? I highly doubt it. But at least I tried.
