Flying Solo

I try not to talk about relationship stuff on this blog—wouldn’t want anyone distracted from the poetry, recipes, running adventures, pop psychology, and occasional funny cat stories.  Ha.  But in the aftermath of my most recent breakup, I’ve noticed something.  I hate being single.  I know I’m a grown woman and we’re supposed to learn to love ourselves and be happy with all the other types of love in our lives.  We are supposed to pamper ourselves, enjoy the chance to do whatever we feel like doing, and be happy and fulfilled alone.  Mostly, I can do that.  I’m an introvert by nature so I’m fine with my own company and I do think I’m pretty awesome most days.  I’m often selfish, so I’m good at pampering myself and prefer to be in charge of my agenda.  I love my friends and my cats and they love me back.  I stay in touch with my family via phone calls and Facebook.  So why do I get all morose just because I don’t have some doofus texting me a couple of times a day to tell me what he had for breakfast or ask me what I want to do with the evening?  Why on earth do I feel such a strong need for attention from some male person?  Argh.  Even when I know what I should be doing and what I should have learned by now, there’s still that little voice that says “I need a sweetheart and I need him RIGHT NOW.”  That little voice must be ignored.  I will use my free time to get some crafty crap completed and text my friends a little more often and maybe plan a couple of girl’s nights to distract me.  And I absolutely will not pay attention to the hot ex-boyfriend who has gotten in touch with me because I try not to make the same mistake twice.

I also try not to talk too much about my cat.  There are plenty of reasons that I’m crazy—there’s no need for one more.  But do you remember how I said I was volunteering at the animal shelter?  Almost every time I volunteered, I’d fall in love with one of the cats.  The next week, that cat would be gone—adopted.  Eventually, that adoption streak had to end.  I noticed one cat who had been there longer than most of the others.  Bailey was sweet and liked to be petted, but always looked miserable and sick.  He crouched in the bottom of his bed as if someone were pressing down on him.  I told him that he’d have to sit up and look friendly in order to find a forever home. 

One day, I introduced my (now former) boyfriend to him and of course, he just had to find out the cat’s story.  (After I heard the story about Titan, who was found with a rope around his neck, I’d stopped asking.)  Turns out this little guy had been taken from a hoarder 2 years previously, when he was a kitten.  He had been there longer than any other cat.  He’d been part of a bonded pair and had been adopted out briefly when he was less than a year old.  The person returned him but refused to return his sister.  He was a staff favorite, but they knew he’d have to find the right household if he was going to have a real forever home.  Well.  I wanted to take him home before I heard the story.  After all that, I was determined.  He came home with me a couple of weeks later.

Had to brush my teeth in the kitchen that morning!

He lived in my teeny-tiny bathroom for a few days.  One morning, he was curled up in the sink so I figured he was ready for more exploring.  I let him into my craft room where he promptly disappeared, was found, disappeared again, got found again, then disappeared once more.  I rearranged the room to limit the hiding places and he got comfy in his bed under a clothes rack.  He explores the room late at night and has started coming out to see me when I stop in to pet him and feed him.  He’s still terribly nervous but finally beginning to show signs of relaxing.  It’s been amazing to watch and it makes me smile just to think about it.  In the last couple of days, he has begun to walk around the room a bit even when I am in there with him.  This gives me hope for his future.  Sure, he may never be gregarious, but he may come close to normal.  Bella hasn’t met him yet, but she knows he’s in there somewhere.  Let’s hope the little diva is as sanguine about him joining the household as Bailey and I have been.

Bailey up and walking around, even with a spectator!

Critters

First Bunch of Critters:  Viruses.  There is some sort of cold/flu virus going around our area.  The symptoms aren’t particularly horrible but it leaves you feeling completely exhausted.  I was sick for at least 2 weeks, home from work for one of those weeks, and I’m still feeling pretty wimpy.  It thawed enough on Sunday for me to at least try to do some trail running, but it was more of a hike interspersed with a bit of jogging.  Baby steps.  Yuck.

Second Bunch of Critters:  Brain Chemicals.  Part of being sick and exhausted was an inability to ignore my seasonal depression.  My favorite technique for dealing with SAD is to simply be completely unaware of the depression.  I cruise along like a blindfolded tightrope walker, getting things done in spite of the yawning abyss below.  “Don’t look down” is my motto from January until May.  However, any real drain on my energy (see First Bunch of Critters above) makes it tough to maintain my forward momentum.  I’ve had a few really unpleasant days lately, but at least I got a decent poem out of it:

Just Before the Dawn

Lying awake
With a mouthful of the unsaid.
No tears, just a grey heart
And a vague wish for sleep
In the deep charcoal
Of 0dark:30

Yeesh.  Hey, don’t let that get you down—it’s just the winter blues, okay?  C’mon Spring!!

Third Bunch of Critters:  Adoptable Dogs and Cats.  In December, I started volunteering at a local no-kill shelter.  I had to skip a couple of weekends because of the bleeping virus, but I’m back on track now.  So far, the cats I have most wished to adopt have been adopted by someone else.  Bella is always relieved to hear that bit of news.  Since she is “allergic” to dogs, I won’t even consider adopting any of them.  I managed to talk a couple of friends into walking dogs with me on Sundays, just to get the poor critters out of the kennels (and some of them need real help learning to walk on a leash).  It’s not always fun or convenient, but I love playing/cuddling/giving treats after the work is over.  Doing this distracts me from my own whining.  It’s so comforting to see the cats settling down to happy naps once the cages are clean and fresh or to watch a dog relax into the back seat of the car after a good walk in the woods.

In looking for a poem that I’ve always used as inspiration for getting out of my own head, I found this blog post.  Go read it—it’s pretty short so I’m sure you have time.  It includes the poem as well as a couple of very good ideas:

• PTSD and depression can be tackled without medication, but not without reaching out to others...
• Happiness always follows a good deed, if only for a moment, but that's how we live anyway--moment to moment one day at a time.

“Do something for somebody, quick!”

Decided

No Magic 8 ball required, but Facebook did play a key role in the decision making process.  On Monday, I was still waffling about signing up for the series of trail races.  The group that puts these races together posted on their Facebook page that there were only a few spots left, even though the event isn't until January.  A little further down my news feed, I discovered that one of my original running buddies had signed up for a very cool program called IRUN4 that matches runners with disabled adults and children.  The runner dedicates workouts and races to their buddy/coach, and most of the communication happens through Facebook.  The pressure was on to make a decision, and a whole new reason to get back into races had presented itself.  When the universe lines things up that neatly, what else can one say but "why not?!"  I sent in my request to IR4 and my entry form for the race that very day.  I still haven't decided if I'll say anything to my running buddies, but there's always the Magic 8 ball for that.


(By the way, the first race in the series is a 10k, NOT a 5k.  I'll have to start training a little harder during the holiday season than I had previously planned.  Good thing I'm tough--ha!)

Taboo subjects

Normally I don't talk about work stuff here, and I'm going to be vague and anonymous and all, but dang, am I excited!  I've been looking for a career change for a while now, and here it finally is.  I'm going to be relocating to the bigger town (small city?) in this area and will be doing something quite different.  I'm really looking forward to being a part of this organization and I'm truly enthusiastic about the challenge I'm facing.  I plan to move my little household down there as well, as soon as I can find a suitable place.  Which brings me to another taboo subject.  Living in the small city (big town?) will bring me closer to someone I've been spending my tiny bits of free time with.  It should be interesting to see if we can stand each other on a more regular basis.  

Oh, the changes are flowing now!  This is all so wild and new and exciting aaaaand I'm gushing again.  Sorry about that.  Ahem.  Speaking of gushing--here's another picture of my brother and his baby.  I want to hang this one on my wall.  Prepare for the sugar coma before you scroll down:

Sleepy sleepers

Makes you want to take a nap, doesn't it?  No?  Just me?

They were wrong

Shane Koyczan is a powerful spoken word poet from Canada.  This is one of his pieces, and I'm sharing it with you because it made me get all emotional, and I'm not usually the weepy type.

You may have already seen this video as it's been posted on at least 2 blogs that I read, but just in case you missed it:

(sniffle)

Distractions

I tried to stay busy this weekend, and I mostly succeeded.  I worked all day Saturday, then spent the evening being creepy in a local haunted house.  My friends who volunteered with me decided against going to a punk show afterwards, since we had a race to run on Sunday morning.

I'm the one in the mask...

The race was a Color Me Rad 5k.  This was my first color race and it was crazy fun.  In spite of the fact that my sneezes were blue for a few days afterward, I would absolutely do it again.  My friend and I walked a good portion of it (cold + clouds of colored gluten-free flour = asthma trouble), but it was still her very first 5k.  And the proceeds go to the Special Olympics—everybody wins!

Goofing around with our host

I hope you all had a wonderful (and slightly creepy) Halloween!  Leave a comment and let me know how you celebrated the holiday!

Boo!

Back in the Mud

I made it through another Mud Run, and this year I managed it without injury.  I also felt stronger and ran faster than last year.  The course was the same:  around the soccer field, through the drainage tunnel, into the river and eventually out again, through a small mud pit, up a long hill and down the other side, through the woods, through a creek, and into the big, gotta-crawl-through-it mud pit at the end.  The Marines put this on every year and the proceeds go to Toys for Tots.  A couple of the fellows admired my goggles—standard cheap safety glasses that fit over my regular glasses to keep the mud off.  It didn’t work as well this year, because I took them off too soon and got splashed by one of the other runners at the end of the big mud pit.  They are, however, still decorated with the same miniature rubber duckies as last year (one green camo and one pink camo).  

At least my headband stayed clean

Before I ran, I went back to my blog entry from last year to check my list of things that I wanted to do differently: 

•  No slacking off during summer runs.  I felt strong during the run, but I was faster last spring.
• Gotta get my own support crew--Allison was great, but of course had to focus on "her" runner.
• Braid my hair--maybe even wear a swim cap.
• Find different gear--something like compression tights and a shirt that dries faster.
• Get back into swimming (my arms and back were crazy sore for the next few days).
• Rinse off in the river instead of fighting the crowd at the outdoor showers.
• Bring a thermos of coffee for warming up after.
• Bring two towels.  At least.

I didn’t run as many miles this summer, but I changed my training program to include sprint days and bodyweight strength training days.  No support crew again this year—apparently sleeping late is more important.  I did braid my hair.  It still got muddy, but it was easier to disguise that fact for the rest of the day.  I wore running tights, but not compression tights.  According to Zac, compression boxers were the way to go to keep mud out of tender areas.  I also wore a hideous 80’s polyester blouse that I felt deserved a good mud bath.  It survived in good shape and shed the mud, which I found somewhat creepy.  No swimming this summer, but the strength training helped my arms and back a lot.  We rinsed off in the river, which worked well (and gave a couple of the Marines some entertainment).  

Others had the same idea--see all the mud in the water?

 

 

 

I brought two towels and a thermos of coffee, all of which were nicely restorative afterwards.  Zac and Allison helped me finish off the coffee, so I’m glad I brought enough to share.

I definitely plan to make this an annual event.  In hopes of making this even easier next year, here is my new list of things I’d like to change:

• Get my own support crew—there is nothing like having someone there to cheer you on and take pictures.
• Wear a swim cap if it’s chilly enough.
• Find compression tights and another creepy blouse.
• More trail runs during the summer, and more running up hills.
• Find a group to follow when slogging through the river.
• Don’t take off the goggles until I cross the finish line.
• Or wear my prescription swimming goggles? Hmmmmm…