Work. 30 minutes until me and the rest of the government runs from the building for the stat holiday tomorrow.
First of all: UGH. Beside me, EW is regaling KW with some long convoluted story about something to do with literature. Usually the story ends uncomfortably. The two of them are always floundering for the right way to close thier conversations. EW lingers. KW doesn't particularly want him there, but EW strokes his ego and brings up topics he knows are of nterest to KW. It's awkward.
(Now they're talking poker, both of them suck at it, btw).
Second of all: glorious. Beautiful day. Nice breeze. Warm. I'm going to walk home. It's a long, long walk (wish I could helicopter Skittles in for it, would be very convienent because she could use a good walk every day of the week!!!). I am so looking forward to it. Why? Because I am not fitness walking home. I am strolling. I have given myself permission to amble. Which, I never do. I am always racing or trying to go as fast as possible. Today, it's all about enjoyment. I'm not watching the other walkers go by and trying to match thier pace and determination. Uh, unh. Nope. Today I am chillaxing the way home. All the way home!
Something about deciding to lose 100 + lbs last night was very liberating. Exactly what I needed. Why settle for 50, 70 or 80. What I want is to see what life is like if I live it to the fullest, so why hold back?
Of course if it doesn't happen, alright. I can't control the universe. But I will try to make this happen. I need a goal, something big to hang onto. And it's not about losing the weight. It's about something else that I can't define. Something to do with choosing life, as dumb as that sounds.
I just worry about
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Self Destructive Update #578,765,332,357,875,449
This blog could just as easily be called Mad's Self Destruction Tactics, as Big Girl on a Bike. It would be a lot more accurate. Since I haven't been riding much.
The surgery cannot come soon enough. I am scared of another month without it. I have an argument going back and forth in my head all the time. If I really wanted to lose weight and be successful, why am I overeating now before the surgery? Doesn't that indicate that I'll "fail"? And then I think well, I wouldn't be having the surgery if I didn't have this issue so of course I'm eating like crazy.
What I have been doing is not eating enough during the day and then I get home and I'm HUNGRRRRYYY. And I have a glass of wine. And it's all down hill from there. Wednesday was so bad I was about to collapse from hunger. Yesterday just a little, nothing like Wednesday. But yesterday I ate even more than I did on Wednesday. Four cinnamon sticks and most of a pizza. Actually, probably all of a pizza.
It was like I was on autopilot, just stuffing it in. More, more, more.
My friend and I were brainstorming options to help me to stop binge eating, especially with Kevin at night, after the surgery. It all sounds good in the moment. But when I'm faced with the opportunity to binge versus not, all those good intentions go out the door.
I don't know what to do to stem the tide before surgery in August. I do know that I don't want to be 280 lbs by the time I get to TJ. There's a pre-op diet to shrink the liver that I'll do- it's supposed to be 12 days before surgery. But maybe I should start in July. Things will be quiet at work by then and I could see it as a gentle reminder to take care of myself. I could also recommit to working out and biking to work.
Actually, I'll start the last week of June. Things will have died down by then.
But I am not doing the diet for weight loss. I need to make that dinstinction. I am doing the diet to shrink my liver, and, create an eating schedule and get used to eating smaller portions, more frequently. The diet is a selfcare diet. The diet is to help me workout and stop eating so much at night.
The surgery cannot come soon enough. I am scared of another month without it. I have an argument going back and forth in my head all the time. If I really wanted to lose weight and be successful, why am I overeating now before the surgery? Doesn't that indicate that I'll "fail"? And then I think well, I wouldn't be having the surgery if I didn't have this issue so of course I'm eating like crazy.
What I have been doing is not eating enough during the day and then I get home and I'm HUNGRRRRYYY. And I have a glass of wine. And it's all down hill from there. Wednesday was so bad I was about to collapse from hunger. Yesterday just a little, nothing like Wednesday. But yesterday I ate even more than I did on Wednesday. Four cinnamon sticks and most of a pizza. Actually, probably all of a pizza.
It was like I was on autopilot, just stuffing it in. More, more, more.
My friend and I were brainstorming options to help me to stop binge eating, especially with Kevin at night, after the surgery. It all sounds good in the moment. But when I'm faced with the opportunity to binge versus not, all those good intentions go out the door.
I don't know what to do to stem the tide before surgery in August. I do know that I don't want to be 280 lbs by the time I get to TJ. There's a pre-op diet to shrink the liver that I'll do- it's supposed to be 12 days before surgery. But maybe I should start in July. Things will be quiet at work by then and I could see it as a gentle reminder to take care of myself. I could also recommit to working out and biking to work.
Actually, I'll start the last week of June. Things will have died down by then.
But I am not doing the diet for weight loss. I need to make that dinstinction. I am doing the diet to shrink my liver, and, create an eating schedule and get used to eating smaller portions, more frequently. The diet is a selfcare diet. The diet is to help me workout and stop eating so much at night.
Monday, June 1, 2009
In the thick of it
I should have written sooner.
It wasn't a case of: why bother, things are good. It was more along the lines of: If I do blog I have to be aware of what I' feeling/doing and make sorting out my emotions a priority. And I wasn't ready to do that.
I'm still not. I'm just also not willing to be so destructive, or at least, I want to understand the impulse. In the first time for a while I can see my friends taking steps to be healthier or more "with it" and they're being successful, but I feel like I'm doing the opposite.
Although I actually resolved some big things that had been nagging at me. The electric bike got repaired and fiddled with and I rode it into work. That first ride resulted in some bruises when I had to get off to navigate a weird corner that joined two trails together and turned the throttle on. The rest of the ride was okay other than that, but that was just it. It was okay. I didn't necessarily need a shower, but I went really slowly and couldn't catch my own speed because of the upright nature of the bike. The second time I tried to ride it the chain came off and I was so mad and disappointed and frustrated I hopped on my regular bike and rode to work, hills be damned.
In all, I rode my bike to work 3x last week.
So that feels better.
One thing that helped take the pressure off was scheduling lap band surgery. It's official, booked and real now. On August 3rd I fly down to Mexico and have my surgery.
Whoa just writing that made my chest constrict. And then reading it made it constrict again.
Before I booked the surgery I spoke with a coordinator and she said people often gain weight before they have surgery in cases like mine where there's a 3 month wait. At first I thought, pah, why would I do that, that's just more weight to lose! But tell that to the compulsive eater side of me that's been noshing on all her favourite foods before she's forced to stop/die.
I say die, because I think that part of me really feels like this is a death- the end of an era, but certainly the end or death of a part of me. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings about this surgery (will it work, will I be one of those people unable to eat anything but who's still fat {actually those people don't exist but that's my worst fear, unable to enjoy food, but still fat} will I be okay, will I have any health problems due to this?). But despite those fears the reason why I am having the surgery is because I'm for it.
Mostly though, I want a physical barrier between me and my first instinct, which is to binge eat. I told Penny about it yesterday and she said, "Well, you really have tried everything else, including counselling."
And that about sums up my feelings, too. I tried counselling- made vast improvements in other areas but not weight loss. I tried exercise and that had some fits and starts but I now know a lot about fitness and actively work to be active most of the time and am successful with that (I should take a minute to acknowledge that- go me~!!!!!) I tried diet and exercise and lost a significant amount of weight. But like a spectre the compulsive eating was always hovering around, needing to be managed, dealt with, kept in check.
For all these years I have tried to deal with the compulsive eating directly (counselling) from the side (exercise) in a combined way (diet, exercise and counselling). And I have spent a lot of mental energy managing me. All those random thoughts on just this one topic, all that planning, guilt, shame, dreaming, hope... all that effort.
And I am still fat.
So for me, the lapband represents a freind. Someone or thing who will stand between me and impulse. I might really want to eat 3-6 slices of pizza. But it won't let me. And I think what will happen, knowing me and the process as I do, is that for the first while I will feel very thwarted and really miss the option to eat compulsively. But since the option won't be there my compulsive eating will steadily whither on the vine.
The thoughts and feelings won't go away from what I understand from my lapband support group, but the act of eating compulsively, will. It can't co-exist comfortably with the band.
I see it as a kind of death. Part of me is extremely glad to see it go and welcomes its demise. But another part is hanging on and scared and anxious and driving me to eat as much as I can before the "big day" because who knows when we'll have delicious food again? Never, that side of me whispers. It feels so final, like death. No more soft bready things. No more rare steak. No more carbonated drinks. And when I go back and re-read that list nothing on there is that bad. I can have toasted bread when I want it. A bite of cake here and there, well done steak and eventually even a carbonated drink every now and then.
It's not the loss of certain foods because as I've learned at the support groups, there are very few foods the band won't tolerate comepletely (though everyone's different) it's the loss of the ability to stuff my feelings at any time with the food of my choosing, in the amount of my choosing. After August 3rd, I won't be able to enjoy that familair, tried and true process anymore.
I know that the compulsive eating isn't good for me. I know that it doesn't even really work. It doesn't take away bad feelings/experiences it just delays them, smothers them and creates new ones. I know that what I seek from those experiences isn't food- I know that what I get from binge eating is a cycle of pain, release, shame that's as old as time for me.
But that cycle, pain, release, shame is my connection to my mother. To me as a child, to me as a person. It's how I interact with the world, how I cope with the demands of the world, of a typical day. It's everything.
Without it then, who am I?
How do I get through the world, how do I relate to myself. Do I become someone I don't even know?
And what do I instead to get my daily dose of shame- because that's what I am seeking when I binge eat. I feel bad- something is making me anxious or tense or sad. I don't like feeling that way because strong emotions are scary- they make me want to hurt myself. So, I eat. Not because I love the taste of 7 layer dip so much (though I do) but because I need to create a situation where I went wrong. Where I was out of control. The actual eating itself is mostly in autopilot. I do that because if I were to check in a voice would say "this is wrong, it takes us away from all our goals" so I don't check in and then when I'm done I look at all I ate and I do listen to that doomsday voice saying, "well, we're really fucked now" and then armed with all the evidence, I emotionally crucify myself.
It wasn't a case of: why bother, things are good. It was more along the lines of: If I do blog I have to be aware of what I' feeling/doing and make sorting out my emotions a priority. And I wasn't ready to do that.
I'm still not. I'm just also not willing to be so destructive, or at least, I want to understand the impulse. In the first time for a while I can see my friends taking steps to be healthier or more "with it" and they're being successful, but I feel like I'm doing the opposite.
Although I actually resolved some big things that had been nagging at me. The electric bike got repaired and fiddled with and I rode it into work. That first ride resulted in some bruises when I had to get off to navigate a weird corner that joined two trails together and turned the throttle on. The rest of the ride was okay other than that, but that was just it. It was okay. I didn't necessarily need a shower, but I went really slowly and couldn't catch my own speed because of the upright nature of the bike. The second time I tried to ride it the chain came off and I was so mad and disappointed and frustrated I hopped on my regular bike and rode to work, hills be damned.
In all, I rode my bike to work 3x last week.
So that feels better.
One thing that helped take the pressure off was scheduling lap band surgery. It's official, booked and real now. On August 3rd I fly down to Mexico and have my surgery.
Whoa just writing that made my chest constrict. And then reading it made it constrict again.
Before I booked the surgery I spoke with a coordinator and she said people often gain weight before they have surgery in cases like mine where there's a 3 month wait. At first I thought, pah, why would I do that, that's just more weight to lose! But tell that to the compulsive eater side of me that's been noshing on all her favourite foods before she's forced to stop/die.
I say die, because I think that part of me really feels like this is a death- the end of an era, but certainly the end or death of a part of me. I have a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings about this surgery (will it work, will I be one of those people unable to eat anything but who's still fat {actually those people don't exist but that's my worst fear, unable to enjoy food, but still fat} will I be okay, will I have any health problems due to this?). But despite those fears the reason why I am having the surgery is because I'm for it.
Mostly though, I want a physical barrier between me and my first instinct, which is to binge eat. I told Penny about it yesterday and she said, "Well, you really have tried everything else, including counselling."
And that about sums up my feelings, too. I tried counselling- made vast improvements in other areas but not weight loss. I tried exercise and that had some fits and starts but I now know a lot about fitness and actively work to be active most of the time and am successful with that (I should take a minute to acknowledge that- go me~!!!!!) I tried diet and exercise and lost a significant amount of weight. But like a spectre the compulsive eating was always hovering around, needing to be managed, dealt with, kept in check.
For all these years I have tried to deal with the compulsive eating directly (counselling) from the side (exercise) in a combined way (diet, exercise and counselling). And I have spent a lot of mental energy managing me. All those random thoughts on just this one topic, all that planning, guilt, shame, dreaming, hope... all that effort.
And I am still fat.
So for me, the lapband represents a freind. Someone or thing who will stand between me and impulse. I might really want to eat 3-6 slices of pizza. But it won't let me. And I think what will happen, knowing me and the process as I do, is that for the first while I will feel very thwarted and really miss the option to eat compulsively. But since the option won't be there my compulsive eating will steadily whither on the vine.
The thoughts and feelings won't go away from what I understand from my lapband support group, but the act of eating compulsively, will. It can't co-exist comfortably with the band.
I see it as a kind of death. Part of me is extremely glad to see it go and welcomes its demise. But another part is hanging on and scared and anxious and driving me to eat as much as I can before the "big day" because who knows when we'll have delicious food again? Never, that side of me whispers. It feels so final, like death. No more soft bready things. No more rare steak. No more carbonated drinks. And when I go back and re-read that list nothing on there is that bad. I can have toasted bread when I want it. A bite of cake here and there, well done steak and eventually even a carbonated drink every now and then.
It's not the loss of certain foods because as I've learned at the support groups, there are very few foods the band won't tolerate comepletely (though everyone's different) it's the loss of the ability to stuff my feelings at any time with the food of my choosing, in the amount of my choosing. After August 3rd, I won't be able to enjoy that familair, tried and true process anymore.
I know that the compulsive eating isn't good for me. I know that it doesn't even really work. It doesn't take away bad feelings/experiences it just delays them, smothers them and creates new ones. I know that what I seek from those experiences isn't food- I know that what I get from binge eating is a cycle of pain, release, shame that's as old as time for me.
But that cycle, pain, release, shame is my connection to my mother. To me as a child, to me as a person. It's how I interact with the world, how I cope with the demands of the world, of a typical day. It's everything.
Without it then, who am I?
How do I get through the world, how do I relate to myself. Do I become someone I don't even know?
And what do I instead to get my daily dose of shame- because that's what I am seeking when I binge eat. I feel bad- something is making me anxious or tense or sad. I don't like feeling that way because strong emotions are scary- they make me want to hurt myself. So, I eat. Not because I love the taste of 7 layer dip so much (though I do) but because I need to create a situation where I went wrong. Where I was out of control. The actual eating itself is mostly in autopilot. I do that because if I were to check in a voice would say "this is wrong, it takes us away from all our goals" so I don't check in and then when I'm done I look at all I ate and I do listen to that doomsday voice saying, "well, we're really fucked now" and then armed with all the evidence, I emotionally crucify myself.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Morning Quikie
Got the bike yesterday. They did not charge me, as they were in error, (duh). But I don't think I will ever go to that shop again- customer service sucked and so did the repair.
But enough bitching- the past is the past and the present is bikedom! This is the official Bike to Work Week here and I'd like to take part but Monday no dice, T, W, TH I'm on course in a remote location that is unbikable. So Friday is the only day I can partake. Perhaps the universe is throwing obstacles in my so I can learn to relax? It certainly feels like I've been doing a lot of waiting/bumping up against walls. Which is hard for me. It triggers my need for instant gratification- which is what so often leads me to binge. "I don't feel happy and I want to feel better now! I think I'll eat, that'll help."
I never learned to just sit with my feelings. And that more than anything is probably the magic ingredient I am missing since I lost the initial weight. For the last year, I've kept trying to pinpoint the magic ingredient to success, right down to thinking that the season, summer, was the pivotal reason why I lost weight, or that I won't lose weight in every other season. Obviously, I have to let go of that magical thinking. And ironically, the way to do that is to sit with my feelings of sadness at having gained weight and sit through them until they pass- rather than eating. Which is what I've been doing.
When I was just sitting through feelings, letting them pass through and over and out of my world, I was losing weight. During those times when things gelled and I was able to let feelings pass without too much "weight" being attached to them, and I was consistently sitting through them, I lost the most weight, and it was easy in the sense that it wasn't a struggle. I would say to myself, "I know you want to eat right now. And I understand that urge. But let's wait 20 minutes, if you still want to eat we'll discuss our options. I need you to sit with me right now though this feeling though, and let it pass. If we act on it by eating, by doing anything destructive we're literally feeding it and it will never go away. We know that, we've done it many times before and food never works in the longterm. If we wait, it will go. And we'll get what we want in the long term and short term."
I'd repeat bits and peices of that over and over to myself as I sat through the feeling. And if I decided I did need to eat I would go to Sbux and get a lite drink- because it was summer and I wanted something icy and refreshing. But not calorie laden.
It wasn't a magic bullet, and as I recall I journaled a lot and had a lot of moments where I was painfully emotional and feeling raw- especially on long days left to myself. But it was hepful.
Am I ready to try again?
But enough bitching- the past is the past and the present is bikedom! This is the official Bike to Work Week here and I'd like to take part but Monday no dice, T, W, TH I'm on course in a remote location that is unbikable. So Friday is the only day I can partake. Perhaps the universe is throwing obstacles in my so I can learn to relax? It certainly feels like I've been doing a lot of waiting/bumping up against walls. Which is hard for me. It triggers my need for instant gratification- which is what so often leads me to binge. "I don't feel happy and I want to feel better now! I think I'll eat, that'll help."
I never learned to just sit with my feelings. And that more than anything is probably the magic ingredient I am missing since I lost the initial weight. For the last year, I've kept trying to pinpoint the magic ingredient to success, right down to thinking that the season, summer, was the pivotal reason why I lost weight, or that I won't lose weight in every other season. Obviously, I have to let go of that magical thinking. And ironically, the way to do that is to sit with my feelings of sadness at having gained weight and sit through them until they pass- rather than eating. Which is what I've been doing.
When I was just sitting through feelings, letting them pass through and over and out of my world, I was losing weight. During those times when things gelled and I was able to let feelings pass without too much "weight" being attached to them, and I was consistently sitting through them, I lost the most weight, and it was easy in the sense that it wasn't a struggle. I would say to myself, "I know you want to eat right now. And I understand that urge. But let's wait 20 minutes, if you still want to eat we'll discuss our options. I need you to sit with me right now though this feeling though, and let it pass. If we act on it by eating, by doing anything destructive we're literally feeding it and it will never go away. We know that, we've done it many times before and food never works in the longterm. If we wait, it will go. And we'll get what we want in the long term and short term."
I'd repeat bits and peices of that over and over to myself as I sat through the feeling. And if I decided I did need to eat I would go to Sbux and get a lite drink- because it was summer and I wanted something icy and refreshing. But not calorie laden.
It wasn't a magic bullet, and as I recall I journaled a lot and had a lot of moments where I was painfully emotional and feeling raw- especially on long days left to myself. But it was hepful.
Am I ready to try again?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
What's next?
So, I didn't get the dream job. What I didn't say in this blog was that while I waited to hear about the position I put off two things.
I put off signing up for my program at a local university next year. And I put off scheduling my surgery.
I'm not 100% committed to the university program, but the reality is my employer is paying for it (once I complete it) and with the way my career is going right now, I can use any boost I can get. Maybe it's just the sadness about not getting that job speaking, but I have this voice in the back of my head asking, "If you're such a hot shot why haven't you gotten a new job yet, you said this place was just a landing strategy, so what's the problem? Maybe it's you?"
The weird thing is, in jobs past, I've always been way too busy. Staying late, working through lunches-every day for six month stretches. Right now, I can take a lunch every day and I go home at on time. And I really like that. Yet I'm chafing at the bit with the micromanaging. My ED makes all the decisions and I just book rooms. I don't have any access to the decision making. I fought that hard, until I adopted a zen approach. But the zen approach worried me- did it mean I was becoming a complacenet house cat, letting everyone else get all the opportunities? I was able to shush my ego and let it go, until I saw an out in the dream job. And then I started to fantasize about how great it would be to combine what I have learned in this job, humility and the working my set hours, with autonomy and confidence from my "superiors".
Like for example, I wonder if I shouldn't be learning how to make videos. W does and god knows they love him. I used to be the golden girl and a part of me misses that. But i also worked crazy hours and worked crazily just to gain approval, which was fleeting. Ugh. I can talk myself into circles on this.
So I need to cut to the chase. Does it matter to me that boss respects me? Not really, I mean it would be nice, but I don't have much control over her. Does it matter if I'm the star? Definitely not. Does it matter if I deliver on my promises? Yes. Do I? Yes. Then that's it. That's all I can do. Do I want to make videos? A little. I'd also like to get better at building websites. So how about I just go ahead and update my own website portfolio and then start playing with video. I have the software here at home. I can make a video of the tetons!
But I'm not doing it for "them". I'm doing it for me. To bring a little fun back to my work.
As for the surgery, not getting that job (I was so sure I'd at least be interviewed!!!) means that I can now take off all of August, which is a gift, really. And I can have almost a whole month to recover and get used to this new way of eating. It will be like a spa.
More on that later...
I put off signing up for my program at a local university next year. And I put off scheduling my surgery.
I'm not 100% committed to the university program, but the reality is my employer is paying for it (once I complete it) and with the way my career is going right now, I can use any boost I can get. Maybe it's just the sadness about not getting that job speaking, but I have this voice in the back of my head asking, "If you're such a hot shot why haven't you gotten a new job yet, you said this place was just a landing strategy, so what's the problem? Maybe it's you?"
The weird thing is, in jobs past, I've always been way too busy. Staying late, working through lunches-every day for six month stretches. Right now, I can take a lunch every day and I go home at on time. And I really like that. Yet I'm chafing at the bit with the micromanaging. My ED makes all the decisions and I just book rooms. I don't have any access to the decision making. I fought that hard, until I adopted a zen approach. But the zen approach worried me- did it mean I was becoming a complacenet house cat, letting everyone else get all the opportunities? I was able to shush my ego and let it go, until I saw an out in the dream job. And then I started to fantasize about how great it would be to combine what I have learned in this job, humility and the working my set hours, with autonomy and confidence from my "superiors".
Like for example, I wonder if I shouldn't be learning how to make videos. W does and god knows they love him. I used to be the golden girl and a part of me misses that. But i also worked crazy hours and worked crazily just to gain approval, which was fleeting. Ugh. I can talk myself into circles on this.
So I need to cut to the chase. Does it matter to me that boss respects me? Not really, I mean it would be nice, but I don't have much control over her. Does it matter if I'm the star? Definitely not. Does it matter if I deliver on my promises? Yes. Do I? Yes. Then that's it. That's all I can do. Do I want to make videos? A little. I'd also like to get better at building websites. So how about I just go ahead and update my own website portfolio and then start playing with video. I have the software here at home. I can make a video of the tetons!
But I'm not doing it for "them". I'm doing it for me. To bring a little fun back to my work.
As for the surgery, not getting that job (I was so sure I'd at least be interviewed!!!) means that I can now take off all of August, which is a gift, really. And I can have almost a whole month to recover and get used to this new way of eating. It will be like a spa.
More on that later...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
The highs and lows
I finally heard back on a job I had applied for- turns out they want more media experience. I do a lot of fielding and behind the scenes work but I don't deal with media much anymore. I think what they really wanted was a retired journalist turned hack. Which seems to be the best way to get a good job in PR around here, writers just don't cut it anymore.
But it was a good experience. The woman running the posting was really kind and just... well, nice. I called her on Monday to inquire about the short-list and she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me, (She actually said, "I am genuinely happy to hear from you!") which is the total opposite of the dreaded "hi, I just sent in my resume two weeks ago and was wondering if you'd ever get around to shortlisting for interviews?" phone call job applicants are hectored to make. I once had to make one of those calls and sit through awkward silence as the gal on the other end actually read a prepared speech to me verbatim about her branch process for selecting interview candidates. That's savvy key messaging!
But like I said, it was a good experience. It got me to thinking about the possibility for something new and better.
Next week is Bike to Work Week here. I called the bike shop and of course they were cheerful and friendly and said that my tire situation would be an easy and quick fix (only I have my doubts, I don't think it's the tube, it's the tire... but I'll cross that bridge later and now that I have spewed all my inner vitriol I feel much better about the whole thing) and shouldn't take long.
Which got me to thinking. Just how long will my new route be, exactly?
Well thankfully my co-worker Emily came to the rescue and sent me a link for Gmap. It's awesome. I was able to map my route, including the bike trails here and I was able to see that my route is 7 km or 4.5 miles. (Funny, I have been here so long that km's have more of a frame of reference for me than miles. That said, I will forever remain a farenheit girl, the idea that 30 is smoking hot is just stupid.)
My diet brain took over and started to do some calculations. That's 14.5 km's a day, or 9 miles. Calories burned round trip is 1862. That's more than I eat some days! (We call those good days). Take all of that over a work week and I've racked up 72.5 km/ 45 mi and 9,310 calories.
7 km's isn't much- I've ridden much more over hilly terrain without an electric motor to help. I find for me that the first 3 km's are a bit of a slog- my body just isn't that warmed up and I feel like it's "work" but after the 3 mark, I'm sailing until about 12-15 km's. But I will have 8 hours to recover between rides so realistically, I probably won't even be that tired. Sure, the first week I'll be knackered from the novelty and my anxiety for doping something new.
And I'll probably need to get there early and shower and do my hair there, but I'm okay with that.
______________________
Okay, the truth is, I'm bummed about the job- not even an interview- come on! But I'm mostly bummed for selfish reasons. I loved the idea of a four day work week and I loved the idea of getting paid $200 more p/month for 4 days less work (work/life balance rules) and doing something with more autonomy. Non-selfishly I really do miss doing something in non-profit land, but selfishly, I don't miss non-profit land culture.
But that's a post for another day.
But it was a good experience. The woman running the posting was really kind and just... well, nice. I called her on Monday to inquire about the short-list and she seemed genuinely happy to hear from me, (She actually said, "I am genuinely happy to hear from you!") which is the total opposite of the dreaded "hi, I just sent in my resume two weeks ago and was wondering if you'd ever get around to shortlisting for interviews?" phone call job applicants are hectored to make. I once had to make one of those calls and sit through awkward silence as the gal on the other end actually read a prepared speech to me verbatim about her branch process for selecting interview candidates. That's savvy key messaging!
But like I said, it was a good experience. It got me to thinking about the possibility for something new and better.
Next week is Bike to Work Week here. I called the bike shop and of course they were cheerful and friendly and said that my tire situation would be an easy and quick fix (only I have my doubts, I don't think it's the tube, it's the tire... but I'll cross that bridge later and now that I have spewed all my inner vitriol I feel much better about the whole thing) and shouldn't take long.
Which got me to thinking. Just how long will my new route be, exactly?
Well thankfully my co-worker Emily came to the rescue and sent me a link for Gmap. It's awesome. I was able to map my route, including the bike trails here and I was able to see that my route is 7 km or 4.5 miles. (Funny, I have been here so long that km's have more of a frame of reference for me than miles. That said, I will forever remain a farenheit girl, the idea that 30 is smoking hot is just stupid.)
My diet brain took over and started to do some calculations. That's 14.5 km's a day, or 9 miles. Calories burned round trip is 1862. That's more than I eat some days! (We call those good days). Take all of that over a work week and I've racked up 72.5 km/ 45 mi and 9,310 calories.
7 km's isn't much- I've ridden much more over hilly terrain without an electric motor to help. I find for me that the first 3 km's are a bit of a slog- my body just isn't that warmed up and I feel like it's "work" but after the 3 mark, I'm sailing until about 12-15 km's. But I will have 8 hours to recover between rides so realistically, I probably won't even be that tired. Sure, the first week I'll be knackered from the novelty and my anxiety for doping something new.
And I'll probably need to get there early and shower and do my hair there, but I'm okay with that.
______________________
Okay, the truth is, I'm bummed about the job- not even an interview- come on! But I'm mostly bummed for selfish reasons. I loved the idea of a four day work week and I loved the idea of getting paid $200 more p/month for 4 days less work (work/life balance rules) and doing something with more autonomy. Non-selfishly I really do miss doing something in non-profit land, but selfishly, I don't miss non-profit land culture.
But that's a post for another day.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Grrrr
This probably isn't going to be a very interesting post for anyone but me, but then again I don't have readers so what do I care?!
Picked up the bike in the afternoon yesterday. First red flag: they hooked up the wires wrong so the motor was going- but it wasn't actually working. The tech could have rolled his eyes and seemed more responsive to my request that it be fixed. At first he said something about not having space until May 30. Yeah, no. It took me being polite but persistent (read not leaving as they closed for the day) for them to open it up and fix the connection right then, not May 30th. Semi-satisfied, I head off into traffic without my helmet- which I thought was in the storage box on the bike, but wasn't, so I don't want to accuse them of theft, but, where the fuck is my helmet? I decide to let go of the helmet issue, after all, I could be mistaken and I don't want to charge in their sputtering accusations when so much has already gone wrong.
I start pedaling my way through traffic and right away even with the motor charged up I feel a lot of resistance. But I ignore it. I put it down to my first ride and nervousness (the whole time I keep thinking about the person who will, at any moment, snidely take me to task for not wearing a helmet not to mention all the shitty looks I will get). I ignore the resistance and keep going.
But then I get on the goose. And I just know something is wrong. Even still I don't listen to that little voice. I tell it to shut up. But my back tire is flat. It has to be. It's dragging and bumping and I can hear the rubber smacking against the pavement. I may not be Lance Fucking Armstrong, but I'm pretty sure my back tire isn't supposed to make slapping noises. But I tell myself to shut up. Because I just picked up my bike from the shop and paid $100.00 to get it repaired and tires changed. The little voice whispers FUCK. I keep riding. Maybe I'm wrong, what do I know about electric bikes? Maybe this is normal, I hope. A lady calls out to me. Inwardly I cringe. I just know she's gonna say that I should be wearing a helmet. Instead she calls out, "I think you have a flat. In the back."
I make that helpless 'I know, whatt'ya gonna do face'. Cause really, I'm half way home, I have a flat and the bike shop is closed. So what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
These situations really get the best of me because I find the bike shop intimidating to begin with. They all look very athletic. Like the kind of people who think nothing of pulling a century over the weekend for shits and giggles. (A century, for those not in the know is a one hundred mile ride). And the bike weighs a ton so getting it there is epic. Plus, I paid for a service and they screwed up the connection and gave me 'tude about it. And they didn't change the tire or the tube in the tire correctly. So now I have to go back. I have to lug that heavy bike into the trunk of our car, drag it in and I just fucking know they're going to be dicks about a quick service and a refund. I don't think I should pay for any labour for this fix, and I should definitely be refunded for the last one. Plus, the timing is all fucked because their hours don't fit with mine so that means the weekend, which means who knows when I will actually get to ride my new (fucking) bike.
So why does it make me so mad (aside from shitty customer service and wasted time)? Because, this is screwing with my plans. I had hoped to use the bike as a catalyst for change- forward momentum, man. And the truth is, I have some kind of screwed up way of being that says if I don't exercise every day I am a bad person. If I don't eat right every day, I am a bad person, too.
You combine those two commandments (thou shalt exercise and thou shalt eat right) and I am bound to screw one or both of them up on a daily basis.
But I figured, I have to get back and forth to work, so, building a bike ride into my routine was my crafty attempt to take a little bit of the pressure off myself- and avoid daily jaunts on the smelly loser cruiser. (Plus I desperately want to be one of those sporty people who think nothing of hopping on their bikes for a half century on a weekend for shits and giggles). Commuting by bike would mean I'd accomplished half of my daily "to-do list" 5 days a week. (Imagine the sweet relief of getting at living up to one commandment at least!)
Now though, my plans have all gone to shit. I had to sit through two weeks while the bike got serviced and that caused me to be anxious (unfinished business). Then you add in the fact that I had to shell out $450.00 for the bike and $100.00 for repairs and I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself. Then you factor in my mounting terror about riding in traffic (compounded by the fact that I have to wait to face my fear), and, my embarrassment that I need an electric bike versus a regular bike and I really just feel like... like I am on hold. And the feeling of being on hold is just anxiety- it's like being in a waiting room, waiting to start to feel more in control, to stop feeling like a failure.
Why do I feel like a failure? The usual stuff. I'm 100 lbs overweight, I gained back 20 of the 70 lbs I lost last year. I hate my job and am in a "junior" position, I left a higher paying position due to someone sexually harassing me in an already toxic environment (and I can always just imagine every one's nasty comments behind my back "she couldn't cut it", "she brought it on herself by being too friendly", "she's weak and broke down under the pressure"). What else? I don't have a degree. I don't have sex enough with my husband (anti-depressants take away my sex drive), I'm not a good gardener, I have bad knees, I have cellulite on my calves (who the fuck has ripples of cellulite on their calves beside me?) I don't floss often enough and have gingivitis. I have corns and wide feet. Lately, I can't wear heels because they hurt too much. Oh, and I seem to have permanent camel toe nowadays. (The C-Toe, combined with my "comfortable flats" makes me look about 20 years older than I am, with a big vag, to boot.)
No wonder I feel like a failure. Actually, the wonder is that I actually get out of bed every day and continue to make an effort. But then I seize upon a plan- a plan in the making for a year- to ride to work every day. It took me a full year to devise a means by which I could reasonably attempt to ride to work every day on a bike. It took a whole year- more than a year- to gently cajole myself into braving traffic and other, potentially judgemental bikers, it took me spending money on myself, it took me planning safe routes, contingency plans, coordinating apres bike ride grooming plans and supplies, psyching myself up and god knows what else. It took a year to get here and now the whole fucking plan is delayed (and sullied) because the bike shop made me wait 2 weeks to get it serviced and fucked up the servicing and now I will have to wait who knows how long to get it right. (Plus I have my suspicions that bike people will be like restaurant servers and get back at me for asking for my bike to be fixed and not be charged the equivalent of spitting in my supper- they seem like a petty and vindictive bunch).
And, it's bike to work week next week, and I signed up for a team. It's a small thing, but being able to drop my participation in bike to work week into casual conversation would have meant a lot to me. And I would have felt like I was part of something- but nooooo that's all over now. That is just dashed. Ruined.
Maybe some people can take these things in stride and shrug their shoulders and say, oh well, it's gonna be fixed eventually. But I'm not one of those people. Besides for me, this is like waiting for a year, not two weeks. This was a series of baby steps on the way to a larger goal and now external obstacles are in my fucking way. And I feel like external obstacles are also in the way of my career. They're beyond my control. I can't change them. I have to be zen. Okay, well I've adopted a zen attitude on my job, but now the universe wants me to be zen about the bike, too?
Come on. Give me a fucking break. Actually, no, give me a fucking bone. Just something. One little thing I could do to feel a little bit more in control, a little less like a fuck, a little more like I won't be 100+ lbs overweight with a gaping camel toe for the rest of my life. One little fucking win is all I need right now.
But instead, I'm consigned to the waiting room.
Picked up the bike in the afternoon yesterday. First red flag: they hooked up the wires wrong so the motor was going- but it wasn't actually working. The tech could have rolled his eyes and seemed more responsive to my request that it be fixed. At first he said something about not having space until May 30. Yeah, no. It took me being polite but persistent (read not leaving as they closed for the day) for them to open it up and fix the connection right then, not May 30th. Semi-satisfied, I head off into traffic without my helmet- which I thought was in the storage box on the bike, but wasn't, so I don't want to accuse them of theft, but, where the fuck is my helmet? I decide to let go of the helmet issue, after all, I could be mistaken and I don't want to charge in their sputtering accusations when so much has already gone wrong.
I start pedaling my way through traffic and right away even with the motor charged up I feel a lot of resistance. But I ignore it. I put it down to my first ride and nervousness (the whole time I keep thinking about the person who will, at any moment, snidely take me to task for not wearing a helmet not to mention all the shitty looks I will get). I ignore the resistance and keep going.
But then I get on the goose. And I just know something is wrong. Even still I don't listen to that little voice. I tell it to shut up. But my back tire is flat. It has to be. It's dragging and bumping and I can hear the rubber smacking against the pavement. I may not be Lance Fucking Armstrong, but I'm pretty sure my back tire isn't supposed to make slapping noises. But I tell myself to shut up. Because I just picked up my bike from the shop and paid $100.00 to get it repaired and tires changed. The little voice whispers FUCK. I keep riding. Maybe I'm wrong, what do I know about electric bikes? Maybe this is normal, I hope. A lady calls out to me. Inwardly I cringe. I just know she's gonna say that I should be wearing a helmet. Instead she calls out, "I think you have a flat. In the back."
I make that helpless 'I know, whatt'ya gonna do face'. Cause really, I'm half way home, I have a flat and the bike shop is closed. So what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.
These situations really get the best of me because I find the bike shop intimidating to begin with. They all look very athletic. Like the kind of people who think nothing of pulling a century over the weekend for shits and giggles. (A century, for those not in the know is a one hundred mile ride). And the bike weighs a ton so getting it there is epic. Plus, I paid for a service and they screwed up the connection and gave me 'tude about it. And they didn't change the tire or the tube in the tire correctly. So now I have to go back. I have to lug that heavy bike into the trunk of our car, drag it in and I just fucking know they're going to be dicks about a quick service and a refund. I don't think I should pay for any labour for this fix, and I should definitely be refunded for the last one. Plus, the timing is all fucked because their hours don't fit with mine so that means the weekend, which means who knows when I will actually get to ride my new (fucking) bike.
So why does it make me so mad (aside from shitty customer service and wasted time)? Because, this is screwing with my plans. I had hoped to use the bike as a catalyst for change- forward momentum, man. And the truth is, I have some kind of screwed up way of being that says if I don't exercise every day I am a bad person. If I don't eat right every day, I am a bad person, too.
You combine those two commandments (thou shalt exercise and thou shalt eat right) and I am bound to screw one or both of them up on a daily basis.
But I figured, I have to get back and forth to work, so, building a bike ride into my routine was my crafty attempt to take a little bit of the pressure off myself- and avoid daily jaunts on the smelly loser cruiser. (Plus I desperately want to be one of those sporty people who think nothing of hopping on their bikes for a half century on a weekend for shits and giggles). Commuting by bike would mean I'd accomplished half of my daily "to-do list" 5 days a week. (Imagine the sweet relief of getting at living up to one commandment at least!)
Now though, my plans have all gone to shit. I had to sit through two weeks while the bike got serviced and that caused me to be anxious (unfinished business). Then you add in the fact that I had to shell out $450.00 for the bike and $100.00 for repairs and I feel guilty for spending so much money on myself. Then you factor in my mounting terror about riding in traffic (compounded by the fact that I have to wait to face my fear), and, my embarrassment that I need an electric bike versus a regular bike and I really just feel like... like I am on hold. And the feeling of being on hold is just anxiety- it's like being in a waiting room, waiting to start to feel more in control, to stop feeling like a failure.
Why do I feel like a failure? The usual stuff. I'm 100 lbs overweight, I gained back 20 of the 70 lbs I lost last year. I hate my job and am in a "junior" position, I left a higher paying position due to someone sexually harassing me in an already toxic environment (and I can always just imagine every one's nasty comments behind my back "she couldn't cut it", "she brought it on herself by being too friendly", "she's weak and broke down under the pressure"). What else? I don't have a degree. I don't have sex enough with my husband (anti-depressants take away my sex drive), I'm not a good gardener, I have bad knees, I have cellulite on my calves (who the fuck has ripples of cellulite on their calves beside me?) I don't floss often enough and have gingivitis. I have corns and wide feet. Lately, I can't wear heels because they hurt too much. Oh, and I seem to have permanent camel toe nowadays. (The C-Toe, combined with my "comfortable flats" makes me look about 20 years older than I am, with a big vag, to boot.)
No wonder I feel like a failure. Actually, the wonder is that I actually get out of bed every day and continue to make an effort. But then I seize upon a plan- a plan in the making for a year- to ride to work every day. It took me a full year to devise a means by which I could reasonably attempt to ride to work every day on a bike. It took a whole year- more than a year- to gently cajole myself into braving traffic and other, potentially judgemental bikers, it took me spending money on myself, it took me planning safe routes, contingency plans, coordinating apres bike ride grooming plans and supplies, psyching myself up and god knows what else. It took a year to get here and now the whole fucking plan is delayed (and sullied) because the bike shop made me wait 2 weeks to get it serviced and fucked up the servicing and now I will have to wait who knows how long to get it right. (Plus I have my suspicions that bike people will be like restaurant servers and get back at me for asking for my bike to be fixed and not be charged the equivalent of spitting in my supper- they seem like a petty and vindictive bunch).
And, it's bike to work week next week, and I signed up for a team. It's a small thing, but being able to drop my participation in bike to work week into casual conversation would have meant a lot to me. And I would have felt like I was part of something- but nooooo that's all over now. That is just dashed. Ruined.
Maybe some people can take these things in stride and shrug their shoulders and say, oh well, it's gonna be fixed eventually. But I'm not one of those people. Besides for me, this is like waiting for a year, not two weeks. This was a series of baby steps on the way to a larger goal and now external obstacles are in my fucking way. And I feel like external obstacles are also in the way of my career. They're beyond my control. I can't change them. I have to be zen. Okay, well I've adopted a zen attitude on my job, but now the universe wants me to be zen about the bike, too?
Come on. Give me a fucking break. Actually, no, give me a fucking bone. Just something. One little thing I could do to feel a little bit more in control, a little less like a fuck, a little more like I won't be 100+ lbs overweight with a gaping camel toe for the rest of my life. One little fucking win is all I need right now.
But instead, I'm consigned to the waiting room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
