My First Half Marathon (Subtitle: And Now the Rocky Theme Makes me Cry)

Why does the ‘Rocky’ song make me cry? I don’t even like those movies. Yet, when the gun went off, and that song began to play, I choked up. The thousands of runners in my wave of the Manitoba Marathon ‘Intrepid Dezine’ Half Marathon, surged toward the start. We waded in the crowd, and I choked up.

It was such a journey to get here, I thought.

Four months of training ended in double knee injuries that sapped my confidence, and stole my last two long runs. I knew I could do it, but I was anticipating a lot of pain. I would be right. But right in that first mile, a thousand feet drummed around me like rain. Japanese drummers shouted and sounded the advance. We powered up onto the bridge over Bishop Grandin.

Slow down, I told myself. It would take me four miles to coast down to my projected half-marathon pace. I glided, effortlessly, through shady, wooded areas. People stood along the road, many holding signs. ‘Touch for Power’ one said, pointing at a star on the poster board. A tall, leggy girl sprinted to the side to press her finger to the star. An older runner said ‘I got it through WiFi.” I giggled.

About five miles in we passed another sign, “Worst parade ever.”

“Sorry!” I yelled, and laughed.

The first ten km passed without incident, but I could feel hip and knee pain creeping up on me. I walked through the next aid station, and the next. ‘Drink fluids’ one of the aiders yelled, ‘Course conditions are dangerously hot.’ I was starting to feel it. We crossed over the Jubilee footbridge and through mile 7. From the the pain in my hip grew from a dull ache to a nagging pain. I gritted my teeth and ran from aid station to aid station, walking the thirty seconds that it took to slog through the cup and sponge strewn stretch of pavement.

By mile eleven, I couldn’t wait for aid stations. I was taking short walk breaks every few minutes, with pain radiating from knee to hip. I tried to focus on the finish, and my family waiting, and the moment of running across the finish. I shivered in spite of the heat.

The final mile I wanted to run it straight, but I was too tired and in too much pain. I walked a short stretch, and then broke into a hobbling shuffle for the last kilometre.

And then, as I rounded the corner into the stadium, I heard the announcer boom, “Geralyn Wichers, from Steinbach.” I saw the big purple finish line. I passed another runner, trying to work up some speed.

“Go Geralyn!” I heard someone bellow. I looked up and saw my sisters brilliant pink jacket. I raised my hands over my head.

Twenty steps from the line, I saw another runner in my peripheral vision, trying to pass.

Heck no! I thought. I put every ounce of energy into a sprint, and beat them to the line. I bent down for my medal, barely registering triumph. Hot, in pain, and nauseous. But I’d finished.

To be honest, I’m proud but I’m also sad. If I’d finished my training as planned, maybe it would have gone better. Maybe I could have savoured that finish line sprint instead of hobbling across the line. I did the best I could, of course.

So, I’m going to do it again. Before I’d even run the MB marathon, I’d signed up for my next one–a little MEC Half Marathon that won’t have the numbers, the fanfare or the atmosphere. Probably there will be no one watching. But I’ll get my do over, and I have my motivation to lace up again.

Big thank you’s to the many people who messaged me encouragement. Thanks to Jessica for voluntarily getting up at 4:30 in the morning to drive me. Thanks to Mom, Dad, Derek and Jon for coming to see me finish. Seeing you at the finish line was what kept me going all these months.

Better next time.

10 Things I Didn’t Know Before Running

This week I’m celebrating my runniversary.

One year ago I was a ‘me no run’ person. I barely worked out, and I hated it. But then Verna talked me into running a 5K. I bought my first pair of bright purple New Balance shoes and downloaded ‘Couch to 5K’ onto my phone. I set out with great trepidation, barely expecting to like it.

Darn, I’ve learned a lot in the last year, and now on the eve of the eve of my first half marathon, I am enjoying the cessation of my training. I ran my last gentle four mile joke of a run yesterday morning, and today I’m enjoying laziness and a bit of nostalgia.

Oh, and McDonalds. Here’s me celebrating the last day of training by eating a QPC BLT at 12:30 at night.

Here are 10 things I didn’t know before running:

1. Compression tights are pretty awesome. Practically indecent, yes, but probably my favourite type of pant. I didn’t own a stitch of athletic gear before taking up running. These days I have a drawer full (and random pieces hanging to dry on most spare surfaces in my room).
2. How complicated running shoes are. Who knew so much technology went into two pieces of fabric and rubber? No wonder they’re so expensive. My Mizunos are hands down the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned. They’re also my constant companions, so they’d better be good.
3. A mile is not that far. I celebrated (and cried) the first time I ran a full mile, and not without good reason. These days I eat miles for lunch.
4. A ‘Runners’ High’ is one of the best feelings ever. Its that unstoppably feeling that kicks in a couple miles in, and carries me for a couple hours.
5. Exercise can be enjoyable. Not only do I love to run, but I genuinely enjoy the gym–even after shift at midnight. Me a gym rat? Hard to believe.
6. Running is the best way to get a tan. Forget the beach. Training for a half marathon is a sure recipe for a solid tan before summer has even officially started.
7. What a sports injury is like. I didn’t know I had weak knees, or a weak chest until I pushed them to full capacity. I didn’t listen to my chiropractor the first time I got a hint of a knee injury, and ended up with double knee injuries. Fortunately, caught soon enough that I’m more or less recovered three weeks later. Now I’m doing my exercises.
8. I can be athletic. Bumblebees shouldn’t fly but they do. Short, stocky people shouldn’t run but I do. I grew up believing that I wasn’t athletic and that being in shape wasn’t my thing. That was a lie. Maybe I have to work harder for it than some, but I am in shape, and I’m kinda, sorta athletic. Still can’t believe it.
9. Running is a mental game. Mental toughness is a precursor to physical toughness, and the miles are won in the mind, not just on the pavement. I used to think that ‘real’ runners floated above the pavement, but now I know that it gets easier but it never becomes effortless.
10. Miles hold memories. Specific spots on the road bring back pictures and feelings, like I’ve stepped on a button that plays back a little movie. Some are awesome, some are sad. There’s the Hespeller mile, the first I ever ran. There’s ‘the cairn’ that marked the finish line of my first 5K run. There’s this place on the bike path where, one cold February morning, I stopped and bawled because I was in the depths of depression and running couldn’t make me feel better.

This summer I plan to encapsulate memories in new spots. I want to explore my province by racing in different cities, with different people.

But for the next two days I get to relax, eat carbs, and drink lots of water. Well, actually I get to drink water, eat carbs, and be a angsty ball of nerves.

Cheers, everyone.

Waiting For Aslan to Move

What do you do when you are hopeless, in the deepest of slumps. Help is immanent, but it’s not here yet and you can’t bear it any longer?

It feels like darn near everything is going the way of the buffalo. That’s extinction, if you haven’t guessed. I feel like a broken record saying this, because it seems slumps are a regular part of my life and I haven’t been silent about this.

Running is bad right now.

Today was another in a series of crap runs. I stopped at about two miles in and cried. I don’t know why. I just did. It’s a girl’s prerogative to cry whenever she darn well pleases.

Money sucks right now.

Due to issues with the tax man, I’ve been waiting on my return for three months now. Government efficiency and all that. Meanwhile, I, the dreamer of big dreams and the lover of new clothes, have run furiously on the treadmill of my finances, living in hope of that big cheque coming in the mail. It’s become a schtick of sorts. I text my sister as soon as she’s home for lunch.

“Did anything come in the mail?”

“Nuthin'”

“Darn them!”

Wednesday night, after the cheque didn’t come and I aborted my 13 mile run at 9 miles due to persistent hip and knee pain, I cried in the shower.

Girl’s prerogative, to cry when she darn well pleases.

Those two big issues seem to drag everything else down too. I’m lost with my writing. I’m not blogging, and I’m not really present on social media. I just don’t want to.

Self-medication, can you help?

But I realized that I couldn’t keep waiting, putting my life and happiness on those two things: a good run, and a government cheque. I had to do something about it. And I was reminded of this story from Prince Caspian in the Chronicles of Narnia. God does love to give me examples from fantasy literature. He knows me well. 🙂

The four children, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy are called from England into the land of Narnia as Prince Caspian and his band of faithful Narnians do battle against the usurping king Miraz and his nation of Telmarines. (This is the book we’re talking about, not the slightly sub-par movie–cute Prince Caspian aside). Caspian and his insurgents are besieged in the stronghold of Aslan’s How, at the last of their strength, wits and supplies. Everyone among them has lost blood. And then the four children arrive, late at night, at the How, guided there by Aslan the Lion himself.

But here’s the thing. Aslan doesn’t leap upon the Telmarines and kill them himself. He sends Edmund and Peter into the stronghold to help Caspian. Then he leaves with Susan and Lucy on a tour of the countryside. It doesn’t look like he’s going to help at all.

So Peter proposes a plan. It’s a near hopeless plan. He will personally duel King Miraz, man to man, sword to sword. “Can you beat him?” Edmund asks. “I’m fighting him to find out,” Peter replies. It’s a lousy plan and he knows it, but as he explains, it will take the better part of the day to send messengers back and forth between camps. By the time they set up the duel, Aslan may have done something.

Aslan may have moved.

And he does, by the way. As the duel ends in treachery, and the two armies clash, the trees, which Aslan awakened, sweep down the hill into battle and terrify the Telmarines into submission.

Yes, it is a girl’s prerogative to cry when she wants to, but sometimes you have to dry your eyes and make a plan. Do something, do anything, even if its a lousy plan. Take the first step from your slump, and perhaps by then, Aslan will have moved. Deliverance may be upon you.

So what was my first step, by the way? Yesterday, in anticipation of not receiving the financial deliverance I’m looking for, I made two or three plans of inexpensive things I could do that evening. 1) Use my theatre gift card and see a movie with my sister. 2) Go for a run. 3) Make coconut-lemon icecream out of coconut milk so that my sister (who is dealing with allergies) can have icecream again.

We picked #1.

Today, after my awful run, I decided to pack up my laptop and go get an iced coffee at McD’s. I’m writing this post there. I guess I’d better post it before I don’t feel like it any more.

Long Lonely Miles and Bad Knees

“You have to take care of your Patellofemoral Syndrome, or you’ll wreck your knees.”

Just what you want to hear, right? My knees had been holding up well for the last months, ever since I’d traded my battered New Balance generic runners for a pair of Mizuno Wave Inspires. For a few weeks I’d thought I was running on clouds.

As my milage pushed upward, I added knee-strengthening leg extensions to my weight routine, using a medicine ball for extra resistance. But my knees couldn’t shape up fast enough. On Sunday, after a 12 mile run, I woke up during the night aching everywhere. By the next morning I felt better, with occasional spasms in my calves. Everything recovered faster than I expected–except for my knees. I walked gingerly. My next run was cut short, partially because of pain. My PFS was back, full force.

Funny how I can fluctuate between highs and lows so fast. The 12-miler, my longest run to date, was a triumph. I was pretty sure I was ready for my half-marathon, and my next two long runs would just cement that. A few days later I was searching for possible marathons later in the year. Still thinking seriously about that, actually. “Am I crazy?” I asked my friend, and she laughed at me.

But, according to my chiropractor, I have serious work to do. She’s prescribed me colossal amounts of leg extensions with weights. She wants me to multiply the weight I’m lifting (admittedly, just a 6lb medicine ball) by five. And I can do it. I can. I just feel discouraged and lonely today, and wonder if I’m grinding my knees into the ground or if this is just a hiccup in my long life of running?

Experienced runners, feel free to chime in here.

Even with my puny 12 mile runs, I’m in uncharted territory. None of my friends have done this before. My Grandpa (my running hero) has done this many times, having run multiple full and likely hundred of half marathons. But sometimes you want a peer to be alongside, you know? 

Anyway, I’ll take my medicine. I’ll do my knee-strengthening exercises and see what happens. 2 weeks to the taper, 4 weeks to the half-marathon.

Repost: Motivate Yourself to Work Out in 5 Easy Steps

Oh, it makes me giggle to see how far I’ve come. I wrote this one year ago, before I’d ever dreamt of running. Now, well, It seems I’ve become a gym rat. The horror! Enjoy these 5 workout tips, from a former no-worker-outer. 🙂

Me no work out. And when I do, it must be short. Fifteen minutes max. There’s no point in buying me a gym membership because I won’t go. If I can’t work out in my pyjamas in my living room, well, it ain’t gonna happen because I ain’t doing my beached whale moves/crunches where any skinny gym rats can see me.

Science has proven that wearing something made by Lululemon causes you to burn 25% more calories

Nevertheless, I’ve worked out for two months straight now, because I have my motivation strategy all worked out. And now, you can be motivated too! Here are five steps to motivation:

1. Tell Yourself How Good it is For You

You’ll sleep better, you’ll have better
circulation. It’ll clear the mental fog–but most of all, it will keep you limber. And for me, being able to finally sit cross-legged is a big deal.

Not kidding.

That failing, move to:

2. Stand in Front of a Mirror–In Your Underwear

First, flex your muscles and admire the biceps you have developed. Second, squeeze the jelly roll around your middle. Those reverse crunches? Oh yeah, it’ll be gone.

But if that doesn’t work.

3. Kick Your Own Butt

I say to myself “Who’s the boss? Who’s the boss?”

**meekly** “I am.”

“Then get out there!”

I’ve got my game face on.

But if you’re still on the couch, try:

4. Promise Yourself Something

If I work out four times this week I’ll:

Eat chips.

Fail.

Buy the next book in The Mortal Instruments series. Ding Ding Ding!

But, if you cannot possibly bring yourself to do a squat, lunge or a step on the treadmill, there is one last maneuver you can try.

5. Watch Extreme Makeover: Weightloss Edition

If this doesn’t scare you into your workout gear, at very least it will inspire you. They always look so beautiful at the end, and they have so much confidence!

That’s all we want, right?

Friends, I’m a royal wimp when it comes to working out, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that doing what you said you would does wonders for the mind, body and soul.

So put on the sweats. Tie back the hair. Off the couch in three, two, one… go!

The Four Rules of Reality

Inspiring thoughts on how accepting reality can combat stress and suffering in our lives. The following is condensed from Should I Fire My Doctor, by Patricia J. Sulak, MD.

Stress is inevitable. Suffering is optional. In my pursuit of wellness, I have come across this concept multiple times. I agree. We need to Stifle Stress, and we can then Sever Suffering. How do we decrease the stress in our lives? It does not matter if I am reading the words of Greek philosophers, the Buddha, Confucious, C.S. Lewis, or the New Testament–the answer is the same. We suffer when we argue with reality (or many call it arguing with God).

Rules of Reality cause us to suffer if we deal ineffectively with them. I have narrowed them down to four.

Reality Rule #1: Life is unpredictable. Even though we all know this, it doesn’t seem to keep us from stressing out over the unexpected… It may be the traffic jam on the way to an appointment, the unwanted mammogram results, the layoffs at work, or the phone call with bad news about a friend.

Solution to Reality Rule #1: Expect the Unexpected. Rather than each morning waking up hoping that everything will go the way you want, expect the unexpected. Ask yourself, “I wonder what is going to happen today something not on my radar, that I will need to deal with…?” …we can train ourselves to deal with events in a thoughtful fashion with improved outcomes.

Reality Rule #2: Life is Transient. Most of use believe, or say we believe, that there is a better place after death, usually referred to as heaven. Although often described as the ultimate five-star luxury residence–with no demands, dealines, or discomforts–none of use seem in a hurry to reach that destination… Although we know that death is inevitable and happens unexpectedly every day to many, we hope it won’t be a family member, a friend, or us. But, one day it will…

One patient who came for her annual visit announced that her husband had died unexpectedly three months ago. They had been married over 35 years. I asked her how she was doing. She smiled and told me she was not going to live in misery but was going to cherish and honor the time they had together. This was the total opposite of some of the patients, who over ten years after the death of their spouses, “still can’t get over his being gone.”

Solution to Reality Rule #2: Life is Precious. Cherish each moment.

Reality Rule #3: I’m not in control of most of life’s events. While we can decrease adverse and demanding circumstances and manage many aspects of our lives, we are not in control of most daily events. I cannot control the weather or traffic. I cannot control what people say about me. I cannot control what people do to me. I cannot control many things that happen in my life.

Solution to Reality Rule #3: I can choose how I react to life’s events. …No one has stated this better than Victor Frankl, a survivor of Hitler’s concentration camps. He said, “The one thing you can’t take away from me is the way I choose to respond to what you do to me. The last of one’s freedoms is to choose one’s attitude in any given circumstance.”

Reality Rule #4: I am not perfect. This may be the last, but certainly not the least Reality Rule. When I say and do things that hurt others, it’s usually because I was thinking of myself and not being mindful. I was not focusing on where someone was coming from and why she said or did what she did. Or, I was trying to be helpful, but could have chosen different words or actions. I do things that personally don’t serve me well.

Solution to Reality Rule #4: There is room for improvement! I love the saying, “There are no mistakes, only lessons…” For everything I have done that did not serve others and me well, I can learn from the experience and help others and myself…

What about the times I have hurt people? I can use those experiences to improve my own behavior and be more understanding when people do things that hurt others. In fact, now when my husband and I catch ourselves saying something negative about someone, we try to remember to add the phrase “…just like me.”

(end quote)

I thought I’d share these thoughts with you, not because I’ve mastered them but because they’ve challenged me–particularly solution #4. I’d like to remember to add “…just like me” when I’m tempted to judge.

Someone is Watching You (So keep going)

“No runs in a vacuum. There is always someone watching you leave the house, dig it out, come back, and do it all over again. You are being watched by a roommate, a brother, a spouse. The driver of every passing car. You are being watched by future generations. My grandmother ran in college! someone might say of you one day. My great uncle took it up in his 30s and ran marathons into his 60s! We are inexorably entwined within each other’s influence. You may run by yourself, but no matter how early you start, no matter how remote your location, you never run alone”–Mark Parent.*

What he doesn’t say, but implies, is that you are a leader, simply by being a runner. Someone, be it your roommate or the dog-walker you blow by on the bike path, is watching you sweat and hurt, and grow strong. Not all, but some will say “I want to do that too” and will lead healthier, happier lives because of it.

But don’t stop at running, because not all can run. Do you work hard? Do you help others? Do you chase your dreams with courage and ambition? Someone is watching. My aunt opened her own business when she was my age, someone might say, so why can’t I? My friend published a book, so I can too. My Dad worked hard and provided for us, and I want to be like him. “We are inexorably entwined in each other’s influence”.

I hope this encourages you like it did for me. It’s only January 3, but some of you may have broken your New Years resolutions. Pick yourself up and try again tomorrow. You just might inspire someone to do the same.

Also, a big thanks to those who’ve encouraged me lately by telling me how much they enjoyed my book, or that my posts have been an inspiration to them. You add spring to my step!

* “A Mile in His Shoes,” Runners World, February 2010.

Repeat After Me: There is No Perfect Woman

“I have an iron will, and all of my will has always been to conquer some horrible feeling of inadequacy… I push past one spell of it and discover myself as a special human being, and then I get to another stage and think I’m mediocre and uninteresting… again and again. My drive in life is from this horrible fear of being mediocre. And that’s always pushing me, pushing me. Because even though I’ve become Somebody, I still have to prove I’m Somebody. My struggle has never ended and it probably never will.”  (Madonna, in a 1991 Vanity Fair interview)

I’ve been told that this is predominantly a girl-problem.

Body Envy/Worship Envy

In every arena of life, I relentlessly compare myself to others.  Not men, other women.  There are the obvious ones, like comparing my muscular build to their hour glass figure, or my hipster/writer costume to their sophisticated duds.  The mall is hell for these sorts of things.

But that isn’t all.

I get angry because so-and-so in my church cell group is better at worshiping than me.  They have their eyes shut and their hands raised, while I just got distracted by the sound of my own pure soprano.  And they’re crying and getting all lovey-dovey with the Father and I’m thinking, “Jesus, I really hate this song.  Can you zap this song and make it disappear?”

And then I look at them and think “You’re faking it.  I just know it!”

So women push themselves toward the crippling burden of perfectionism.  Perfect body, perfect hair, jeans that fit perfectly, perfect hostess, perfect Mom.  Not only do I need to run three times a week to fight back the potato chips, but I need to go out in stylish gear so I look hot while doing it.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ain’t happening.

That is why most people who suffer from eating disorders are women.  Women are more likely to self-harm and commit suicide.

I am Remotely Controlled

But this attempt to control our lives and make them perfect is actually to give ourselves over to be controlled.  We may desire peace and contentment, but the popular opinion of beauty and fashion will not let us.  ‘The Jones’ won’t let us be happy until we keep up to them.  Heck, as I’ve talked about in Still Fat on the Inside, we won’t even be able to enjoy innocent pleasures like food.

We will miss opportunities that could be life-changing, all because we were afraid of looking stupid.  I can think of fun activities that I didn’t participate in because I was afraid of failing.  I’ve never been to the gym, because I’m afraid of looking stupid (that will have to change soon–ugh).  I won’t ask for help, i.e. in finances, because I don’t want to admit areas of weakness.

So while I am trying to control how others think of me, they are actually controlling me.

And why?  Tell me: would we like a perfect person?

The Flawed Hero is the Best Hero

As we stood outside my building after a run, my friend Rosie and I were talking about a book series she’d been reading.  The one book had this character who was a good Christian girl, willing to do whatever God asked.  It was like she could do no wrong.  The second book starred a young gladiator who hated God.  Who did we agree was more fun to read about?

I’d say this was part of our comparison and perfectionism, but I suspect there is something else to it.  Our subconscious minds can spot a fake.  The author can sell us that godly goody-two-shoes as reality but in the back of our minds we know that this is just wishful thinking.  There are some really awesome people out there who love God and want to follow him.  But we know ourselves, and we know how hard we have to fight just to do one or two good things every day.  We know that we treat God like we treated our parents.  We do what he asks, while stomping around and kicking the dog to prove that we’re only doing it because we have to.  And only for the briefest moments do we experience the harmony with Him, and that intimate friendship that we so desire.

If we love the loser characters, can’t we accept ourselves too?  Can’t we look into our own hearts and see the weaknesses, and realize that no one is without flaws?

You can’t see what goes on inside another woman’s mind.  You can only see the external accoutrements of her life.  You haven’t seen the price she paid for what she has.  I worry sometimes that people look at me and think I have my whole life figured out.  Like today, I mentioned the awesome run I had to an friend.  She asked, “how long did you run?”  I immediately felt the need to downplay and said, “Well, 10 kilometres–but I don’t run 10K every day!”  I used to think that ‘real runners’ practically floated above the ground, and ran without pain and gasping for air.  Now I know this is a fantasy every time I pull off my jacket and the stench of sweat emanates from my shirt.  I know the perpetual tired legs, and the burning chest, and the foolish feeling one gets when prancing around in skin-tight pants.

So allow others their weaknesses, and own up to your own.  It can be immensely freeing to admit that you’re weak.  I’ve found great relief in telling my friends my struggles, only to have them smile and say, “I feel the same way.”

Repeat after me: there is no perfect woman.  And we aren’t so different after all.

 

 

 

 

 

Still Fat on the Inside

“Reject the the philosophy that is causing you to fail, or you will never succeed” (loose quote of business leader Claude Hamilton).

It’s been seven months since I committed to losing weight.  Wonder of wonders, it actually worked and I am sitting here on a smaller butt than I was in March.

And it’s been five months since I began running.  Tomorrow I’ll run 10K for the first time.  The other day, my sister made an off-handed comment about ‘yeah, but you’re in shape’ and I went ‘ha ha… oh.’  I guess anyone who can run ten kilometres can be vaguely construed as in shape.  I’ve never, ever been in that category.

But am I really a different person?

January 2014

September 2014

Most days I don’t eat sugar, and I eat my veggies and my flax and my sweet potato fries.  I like eating that way.  I feel good.

But then the next day I have unbearable cravings and I polish off a bag of chips.  I did that yesterday, and afterward I was like “why the heck did I do that?”  I know that about halfway through I’ll stop enjoying them, but the hand will keep going to the mouth just because… because why?  I don’t know.  I can’t seem to stop it.

A lot of things have changed, but some key things haven’t.  I still love food far, far too much.  If anything, it seems to take a more integral part of my life because now it is all about timing my meals to get optimum energy, and obsessing over if something has too many carbs or not enough, and feeling guilty every time I eat pumpkin pie at a family gathering.

I did that when I was fat, too.

I’m not talking about body image.  I like my body, thank you very much.  I’m talking about freedom.

At the time of writing, I am almost twenty-four hours into a day of prayer and fasting.  No food.  For those who’ve never fasted, it isn’t that bad.  For me it is almost entirely psychological.  I hate to not eat.  I hate the dull ache in my stomach.  I hate having nothing to munch.  I even miss cooking… kind of.

It took me days to talk myself into doing this.  I’ve fasted before.  Last time I spent all day fantasizing about food, until at about half way into my late shift, I got dizzy and had to break the fast early.  Today my work day was too busy to allow time for daydreaming, but now that I’m home, I’m considering padlocking the fridge and throwing the key off the balcony.

But I want to be free.  I want to be free of my external weight AND this internal weight.  I want the food monster to stop dogging my step all the way around the grocery store.  Food was supposed to be one of the most innocent of pleasures.  What happened?  So it seems right to give up eating while praying about freedom from food.

At midnight National Novel Writing Month begins.  I’m going to stay up, have an omelet and begin my next novel.  I don’t expect to be free in an instant, but tomorrow will be a new day, a new month, and a new chance.

 

4 Ways to Know if you are in a Slump

The dictionary says that the word ‘slump’ originates from a word meaning ‘to fall into a bog.’  That’s wonderfully accurate.  The kind of slumps I’m thinking of are quicksand-ish things that suck you down and render you, the high-performance machine, into a tire-spinning mess.

They’re kind of dangerous if not diagnosed.  So here is how to know if you’ve fallen into a bog… and possibly my own tongue-in-cheek confession.

If You Refuse to Eat Your Veggies…

If you usually get your five to seven servings, but now you call those green flakes in your bag of sour cream ‘n onion good enough.  If you call the ketchup on your fries and the lettuce on your burger a salad.

You may be in a slump.

If You’re Watching Way Too Much TV…

If when you’re gunning for a goal you don’t give a rip about when Castle and Becket are getting married, but now it seems like a good reason to stay on the couch.  If you’re surfing YouTube at random–for hours.  If the kids who run the video store don’t need to ask for your phone number to process the rental, ’cause they know it already.

You may be in in a slump.

If You Hate Everyone…

If you’re usually Mr. Nice Guy, but now the world is full of idiots.  If even your Mom can’t get a smile out of you.  If you can’t stand to have someone breathing beside you because the noise drives you wild.

You may be in a slump.

If You Can’t Stand to be in the Same Room as Yourself…

If your internal dialogue consists of constant rants, diatribes, and arguments with yourself.  If you can’t muster the will to say no to yourself anymore.  If it’s Saturday and you’ve ticked nothing off your to-do list and you feel like a fat, lazy slob.

You’re not as bad as you think you are.

Look yourself in the eye and tell yourself “I am worthwhile,” because you are.  Your worth isn’t based on what you do.  You are a human, a unique soul, a special gift.  You are the image-bearer of God.  You might be going through a slump right now.  You may be full out depressed, and I’m sorry.  I wish I could make it better.

But you aren’t a waste of space.

I’ve watched so much TV, YouTube, and movies this week.  I ate two whole bags of chips this week (and I profess to eat low-sugar, low-carb).  I slacked off of blogging and tweeting.  I avoided my novel manuscript.  I was a grumpy bear to my coworkers and my family and ranted a great deal more than is seemly.  I’m sure I’ve been annoying as heck.  About the only things I did right were going running and showing up in church on Sunday morning.

But the clock is at three minutes past midnight.  It’s Tuesday morning, and I have twenty-four hours to try again.