September 11, 2008
Jog # 5: I jogged for another 15 minutes this morning. I know I should have tried to push it to 20, but I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to get back to the house to prepare to get the girls ready for school. Not to mention, it started to sprinkle the last couple minutes of my run.
Anyhoo, I’m feeling slightly bruised right now. I’m pretty sore from doing all this physical labor around the house (hauling bathrooms up and down stairs, unloading the demolition waste at the dump by myself, climbing up and down the stairs to do laundry, etc.). The running eased the stiffness for a while, but only added to it later. However, I have noticed that my shoulder has finally eased a little.
I’m not sure if I’m going to run tomorrow. I know I should, but I am still pretty stiff. I do know that, run or not, I need to find a new route to run. The same ol’ laps are getting boring and I need to add a few smaller hills to it (much as I hate to). Right now it’s pretty level.
Then again, maybe I shouldn’t change it. Handsome said that after I work myself up to 30 minutes, we’d start working on speed. According to the Army, a woman in my age bracket should be able to run 2 miles in 18 minutes or under. Seriously, 2 miles gets so much longer the faster you take it.
Anyway, time to quite complaining and try to work out my aching muscles in the shower. I need heat! And hey, soap wouldn’t hurt either, lol!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Unspoken III (Poem)
Unspoken III
Don’t know why I called you.
I know it’s all so wrong, but I
can’t help it. I just did.
We laughed and talked about
a past that seems so long, but there
was so much left unsaid.
A carefully orchestrated mess.
We danced around all the pain and ugliness
though we both recalled it.
Both of us had some truth to say,
but we both spent the time just too damn afraid
and there was so much left unsaid.
Don’t know why I called you.
I know it’s all so wrong, but I
can’t help it. I just did.
I know the past is somewhere
we just don’t belong, and there
was too much left unsaid.
A carefully orchestrated mess.
We danced around all the pain and loneliness
though we can’t forget it.
Both of us had some truth to say,
but we both let our foolish pride get in the way
and still there’s so much left unsaid.
There is so much left unsaid.
Jog Journal
Jog # 3: I ran for over 10 minutes straight this morning without stopping. Well, ran is too fast of a term. I plodded along at a healthy pace. Hmmmm,……better. Anyway, I didn’t start this at the first jog, which is just as well since the first one was hardly a jog at all. I made it one block before tripping on my shoe string and falling. After that, it was downhill from there, or all uphill rather, both ways, in the snow…..barefoot. Okay, okay, not that bad! It was uphill both ways though. That truly is possible, but only in Missouri.
So, first run sucked. I was huffing and blowing like an eighty year old asthmatic trying to blow out candles on a birthday cake. Second run was a little better, but not much. Then, I waited about a week before taking run number three, which is where this journal begins. I know I shouldn’t have waited so long to run again, but I couldn’t help myself. This running thing is no picnic and the first two attempts left me stiff as a corpse. I haven’t seemed to suffer unduly as a result of waiting so long either, so I can’t say that I regret it too much.
So, benefits that I have gained so far: even though my chest has felt like it was in a vise for hours after each jog, I can’t say it’s a bad thing because I haven’t smoked as much as a result. I can’t even think about smoking for 4 to 5 hours after a jog. I simply don’t have the strength to pull a drag. Other than that, I haven’t seen any benefits yet.
My goals for this thing goes as follows: 1). To increase my energy levels. 2). To lose the 15 extra pounds I have gained in the last 4 months. 3). To be able to keep up with my kids. Pretty simple, right?
So, first run sucked. I was huffing and blowing like an eighty year old asthmatic trying to blow out candles on a birthday cake. Second run was a little better, but not much. Then, I waited about a week before taking run number three, which is where this journal begins. I know I shouldn’t have waited so long to run again, but I couldn’t help myself. This running thing is no picnic and the first two attempts left me stiff as a corpse. I haven’t seemed to suffer unduly as a result of waiting so long either, so I can’t say that I regret it too much.
So, benefits that I have gained so far: even though my chest has felt like it was in a vise for hours after each jog, I can’t say it’s a bad thing because I haven’t smoked as much as a result. I can’t even think about smoking for 4 to 5 hours after a jog. I simply don’t have the strength to pull a drag. Other than that, I haven’t seen any benefits yet.
My goals for this thing goes as follows: 1). To increase my energy levels. 2). To lose the 15 extra pounds I have gained in the last 4 months. 3). To be able to keep up with my kids. Pretty simple, right?
Previously Known As.....
Have you ever been put in a situation where you had to step out of the role that you previously filled to step into a role you never thought you’d be in? It seems like I’ve been doing just that for the past 6 years. First, I stepped out of the role of irresponsible party girl to become Suzie Homemaker. Then I left Suzie Homemaker for Divorced, Single Mom. After that, I changed back into Suzie Homemaker with a little added twist. Now, I’m Commando Mom (complete with power tools)! I can juggle six kids, remodel bathrooms, and even fold a fitted sheet!
Seriously, being with Handsome (previously known as Ssg.) has to be the strangest relationship I’ve ever been in, simply based on the changes in myself. I really am a girly-girl at heart. I like to paint my nails, scream and cry like a baby when a spider comes near, hate touching anything moldy, rotten, spoiled or decaying. I don’t run for exercise. I’m terrible at staying organized. I’m the last person in the world I thought would be capable of doing what I’ve been doing.
I kid you not. I have been taking care of six kids (ages 4-8) for a couple of months. Handsome has three kids from previous relationships, I have three kids from a previous relationship. Together, we’re a modern day Brady Bunch. And while he doesn’t have full custody of two of his kids, we have had them for part of Summer break, and I’m missing a few brain cells. They’ve been burned out by stress.
As far as the bathroom goes, I have been hauling toilets out of the house, loading them in Handsome’s truck, unloading the truck at the dump (by myself). I’ve been helping install shower stalls (one piece, for those who understand how truly heavy that is and how badly the fiberglass on the outside of the stall makes you itch). I had to help take the new dang shower down the stairs, and the fun part is that the last step is now missing due to neglect.
I’ve been keeping track of all of Handsome’s Army gear, because I finally met someone less organized than I am. I’ve been keeping track of all the kids activities, all of their belongings, all of their medical appointments and everything else that a Mom does and gets no credit for. It blows my mind too, because I am so incapable of being organized. I’m what I like to call a functional dysfunctional individual. I have my quirks, but I have learned to work with them instead of against them. This does not extend beyond my own functionality, however. I’ve discovered that no one else in this house can work with my chaotic system. So, big changes. I had to get organized (to a point). The hardest part is that I’ve had to stay that way. This is where I struggle. It goes so far against my natural programming.
And speaking of natural programming, it also goes against my nature to do any physical activity that I’m not absolutely required to do. My idea of sports is fishing and horseback riding, and I don’t mean bucking broncos, I mean a gentle little mare who couldn’t make it beyond a light trot unless a wolf was nipping at her heals. Any sport you can sit through is a good sport.
Now, however, I’ve taken up jogging. It’s crazy! I haven’t run more than a few seconds since grade school. Make no mistake, it wasn’t a strong desire to that got me started. What happened, as Handsome would say, is that I reached that magical age where my hips explode and apply for their own zip code. It hasn’t gotten out of hand yet, but I am unable to fit into most of my jeans.
So, recap: I’m touching fiberglass and moldy gypsum barehanded to remodel a bathroom, I’m getting up earlier than necessary to go jogging down the street, I’m organizing a household that has a natural tendency to be a disaster, and I haven’t painted my nails in about 8 months. I’ve had to get tough, and I hate being tough. I want to be a sissy. I don’t think Commando Mom gets to be a sissy, however. And despite it being totally against my grain, I find that I really do enjoy the new role. I’m proud of the changes I made for my family. I just wish I could have a day, now and again, where I can give myself a pedicure or go fishing. Is that too much to ask?
Seriously, being with Handsome (previously known as Ssg.) has to be the strangest relationship I’ve ever been in, simply based on the changes in myself. I really am a girly-girl at heart. I like to paint my nails, scream and cry like a baby when a spider comes near, hate touching anything moldy, rotten, spoiled or decaying. I don’t run for exercise. I’m terrible at staying organized. I’m the last person in the world I thought would be capable of doing what I’ve been doing.
I kid you not. I have been taking care of six kids (ages 4-8) for a couple of months. Handsome has three kids from previous relationships, I have three kids from a previous relationship. Together, we’re a modern day Brady Bunch. And while he doesn’t have full custody of two of his kids, we have had them for part of Summer break, and I’m missing a few brain cells. They’ve been burned out by stress.
As far as the bathroom goes, I have been hauling toilets out of the house, loading them in Handsome’s truck, unloading the truck at the dump (by myself). I’ve been helping install shower stalls (one piece, for those who understand how truly heavy that is and how badly the fiberglass on the outside of the stall makes you itch). I had to help take the new dang shower down the stairs, and the fun part is that the last step is now missing due to neglect.
I’ve been keeping track of all of Handsome’s Army gear, because I finally met someone less organized than I am. I’ve been keeping track of all the kids activities, all of their belongings, all of their medical appointments and everything else that a Mom does and gets no credit for. It blows my mind too, because I am so incapable of being organized. I’m what I like to call a functional dysfunctional individual. I have my quirks, but I have learned to work with them instead of against them. This does not extend beyond my own functionality, however. I’ve discovered that no one else in this house can work with my chaotic system. So, big changes. I had to get organized (to a point). The hardest part is that I’ve had to stay that way. This is where I struggle. It goes so far against my natural programming.
And speaking of natural programming, it also goes against my nature to do any physical activity that I’m not absolutely required to do. My idea of sports is fishing and horseback riding, and I don’t mean bucking broncos, I mean a gentle little mare who couldn’t make it beyond a light trot unless a wolf was nipping at her heals. Any sport you can sit through is a good sport.
Now, however, I’ve taken up jogging. It’s crazy! I haven’t run more than a few seconds since grade school. Make no mistake, it wasn’t a strong desire to that got me started. What happened, as Handsome would say, is that I reached that magical age where my hips explode and apply for their own zip code. It hasn’t gotten out of hand yet, but I am unable to fit into most of my jeans.
So, recap: I’m touching fiberglass and moldy gypsum barehanded to remodel a bathroom, I’m getting up earlier than necessary to go jogging down the street, I’m organizing a household that has a natural tendency to be a disaster, and I haven’t painted my nails in about 8 months. I’ve had to get tough, and I hate being tough. I want to be a sissy. I don’t think Commando Mom gets to be a sissy, however. And despite it being totally against my grain, I find that I really do enjoy the new role. I’m proud of the changes I made for my family. I just wish I could have a day, now and again, where I can give myself a pedicure or go fishing. Is that too much to ask?
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