My neck hurts. My feet hurt. My head hurts.
Most days I am your most perky, most cheerleading, most annoying definition of a morning person. This morning I am just annoying. I generally don’t swear but now I’m swearing to myself profusely.
Why the eff am I block from home instead of curled up in effing bed listening to another hour of Morning Edition?
I generally love mornings but not today. It’s the first day in over four effing months I’m taking an early morning walk without my dog and I’m effing depressed.
I generally speaking don’t swear but today is one of those effing days.
So why am I taking a walk-jog at 4:30 on this otherwise uneventful Thursday morning?
Because I am effing fat.
257 pounds. Bam! I said it. Not mildly overweight but fat. I’m the weight of a college football linebacker. Great for protecting a quarterback but not great for me.
I wasn’t always this way. My mom was a model, my dad played college basketball. Genetically neither were ever fat.
Eleven years ago I was in my early thirties trying to qualify for the Boston marathon, I was almost skinny.
At my “best” weight I was 160 pounds.
Back then I also:
- Loved loved loved running. Five days a week (Fridays and Sundays were dedicated rest days) up to one hundred miles a week.
- My Saturday morning long run was a beloved commitment on my calendar. I never skipped a long run unless I was injured or not training and from my first marathon in 1998 to my last- I was always training.
- At my peak I also was incorporating an early morning half hour swim and a half hour bike twice a week.
- I enjoyed naps and a Slim Fast at lunch most work days.
- My diet then: Fast food tasted horrible to me, except for a breakfast burrito from the local taquiera. I ate whatever I wanted.
- Dinners were usually with running friends after workouts and Friday night Mexican with my parents in Newport Beach.
Over the last decade things changed. I changed.
Today a couple weeks after turning 42:
- I strongly despise running. I know it used to bring me joy. Now the thought of it makes me tired.
- I still take naps but not at lunch at work- in case my boss ever reads this.
- My diet now: Fast food in my car is my go-to for dinner. Then and now I have no desire to cook most days. The exception is Sunday nights when I will cook a good meal for myself.
- My parents still live in Newport Beach half the year and near Lake Tahoe (two hours away from Sacramento) the other half.
- I moved to Sacramento from Orange County eleven years ago for a new job, so my weekly Mexican Friday night dinners comprise of nachos from Aldabertos and a large tamarind juice.
- My breakfast burrito fix from Aldabertos is usually Saturdays, before a Toastmasters commitment.
- My morning weekday breakfasts are oatmeal at work or a Starbucks non fat chai, no water, no foam (yes I’m one of those people) with an everything bagel with cream cheese or if I’m really hungry, a spinach feta wrap with egg whites.
My general exercise routine is I walk when I feel like it. I walked and ran more before my sixteen year old dog Hooka died four months ago. She was my best friend and a great walking and running buddy over the years.
I work about two blocks from the California State Capitol. There is nice 1.3 mile loop at the halfway mark there is a pretty rose garden.
But this morning’s walk around the neighborhood was just effing hard.
My friend Emma convinced me to walk-jog a “Color Run” with her in Sacramento early August in tutus. Today I found out she can’t do it because of a work commitment, but my friend Julie said she is game and she already owns a few tutus.
The last half marathon I did was with Emma in Santa Cruz- maybe ten years ago. I finished it. Emma didn’t. I don’t remember the walk-run being fun, but the Santa Cruz coast was pretty and it was a nice girls weekend with Emma.
I also signed up for an untimed Smedley 5K connected to the Toastmasters International Convention in Vancouver at the end of August.
Since I’m signed up for these two 5ks, I better get my effing fat arse in gear, but this morning’s walk with the occasional slow jog is effing hard.
I don’t remember my feet ever hurting this much. They didn’t hurt when I bought these new shoes two days ago.
I fiddle with my play list which I uncreatively name “New Sauconys” after the aforementioned shoes. I mistakenly left my last pair of walking shoes in Tripoli (Lebanon not Libya) two weeks ago.
During this walk-jog, I decide I will write this blog as I alphabetically work through my playlist on my phone, and also as I work through my physical and emotional issues related to Heavy Journey Home to a thinner and a healthier me.
Aside from a poppy Train hit the non-English songs give me comfort, including the instrumental Aaj Ki Rat from Slumdog Millionaire.
I don’t know how many minutes later, but I make it to the park where I used to let Hooka off her leash to run free. I consider running in but I stop. My feet hurt, my neck hurts, my head hurts and I miss her so much and start crying.
I turn around and start walking home. I try running a few steps and even with the comforting Aicha urging me on through my playlist, I return to walking.
A few minutes later I see the beginnings of a pretty sunrise.
The beginnings of the sunrise remind me that there is a little bit of light in my physical and emotional darkness I’m feeling and I remember why I generally do love mornings- but not this morning.
I make it home, feed my cat and feel- well good is an overstatement- not dead is more accurate.
At least it was about 4000 steps in the right direction.
Keep moving.
Heavy Journey Home 