Enjoy the ride.
Who thinks they’ll have sad puppy faces in full force at your table tomorrow?
Ever gather the family together around the table on Thanksgiving, and one by one, say what you were thankful for? Yeah, me neither. I think. I don’t actually remember. However, I DO remember our meals looking quite similar to this…
Okay, maybe not QUITE that messy, but you get the general idea. A houseful of extended family always led to arguments about politics, interrogations of new love interests, and whether or not the Red Sox would go all the way next season. It was loud, crazy, dysfunctional, and I loved every minute of it. Except when I got stuck on dish duty. And I ALWAYS got stuck on dish duty.
These days it’s about spending the day with our besties, watching football, and taking bets on whose mutt is going to win the latest episode of Puppy Smackdown. It’s quiet, mostly calm, relaxing, and I love every minute of it. But every so often, I think back to those Thanksgiving Days of noise and chaos, and my heart aches just a little bit. It’s okay to feel a little nostalgic for the past every so often isn’t it?
This time of year is always tough for me. I never feel the loss of my dad more strongly than between Thanksgiving and Christmas. And my poor hubby makes himself crazy trying to keep me from feeling too sad. It’s gotten better over the years, and I know my Pops would be seriously pissed if he knew I was wasting time getting all weepy-faced. So I wallow in self-pity for a minute and a half, and succumb to the bizarre, freakish, disjointed movements that the hubby considers his best dance moves, all in an effort to cheer me up. Relax baby, works every time.
So along with being blessed with amazing friends (you know who you are ladies and gentlemen), an even more amazing husband, a caring yoga instructor, the ability to move and bend and breathe, a job that pays for me to travel the world or just a few hours away to Disney, the ability to run – at least again some day soon – and the world’s greatest Wonder Mutt, I have plenty to be thankful for. And I try to remember that every time I get annoyed with the stinky lady at the gym, aggravated at the amazing selfishness of some of the people I work with, or the fact that my Giants keep stinkin’ up the joint.
Now I’m going to throw this challenge out into the Bloggerverse – I challenge you to think of three things you are most thankful for. Keep them close in mind. And the next time you end up next to the stinky person at the gym, recite them to yourself. At least until said stinkybutt moves away from you. Then you can add that to your list of things to be grateful for as well.
Have a wonderful Thanksgiving everyone!
Enjoy the ride.
Let’s get this party started! Let’s hear what you’re most thankful for. Ready? Tag, you’re it!!
Yup. Totally going there…
Love the plan. In theory. Realistically, probably won’t quite cut the mustard.
With my new Man-imposed running hiatus, I have to pay attention now more than ever to what I’m shoveling down my yap. I tend to start pushing maximum capacity when I’m not running. So together with my partners in crime: Rae – who, coincidentally, joined the ranks of the married peoples this weekend (yippee!!!!), Princess Lisa, Nicole, and Kellie – we are TAKING CHARGE of our fat cells. Or at least that’s what we’re telling them. Stubborn little buggers.
So it’s a new day in the Black Dog House. The days of chowing down on everything in sight because I would just run it off anyway are long gone. No more double scoops of Moose Tracks, one more mini peanut butter cup, overindulging in cupcakes, or second glasses of wine. Did I mention these are on the no-fly list too?
Kill. Me. Now.
BUT, this is a necessary step in the evolutionary process that is my fitness journey. Don’t get me wrong, I can work up a pretty good sweatfest on a bike or power walk with the best of them. Maybe not quite Leo style, but I can wear out the Wonder Mutt after about a mile or so. However, let’s not kid ourselves – nothing works quite as magically in the battle of the bulge as running does. At least not for these stubborn, fat-loving genes.
So back to the Weight Watchers way of life and Monday morning weigh-ins. I figure that’s the best way to keep you on the straight and narrow during the weekend. Except when the hubby says, “let’s make pizza on the Big Green Egg this weekend.” Who can say no to beautiful creations like this?
So as I sit here daydreaming about the amazing grilled wonder of delight we had for lunch today, and scarf down a bowl of Moose Tracks laced with birthday/wedding/Half Marathon PR/Decorated Christmas Tree cupcakes – because what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t virtually celebrate these momentous occasions – I have to formulate a game plan. So here it is:
1. Eat less crap.
Yeah. That’s pretty much it. I can probably stand to get the dupa to the gym more as well. I just don’t want to go there too much. I go too often, I inevitably end up getting annoyed with someone, and my little hour of sweaty, heart-pumping bliss becomes a hellacious nightmare of barely controlled insanity. Due to the likes of the guy who insists on doing arm circles on the recumbent bike next to me and barely missing taking out the left side of my skull, or the woman who REALLY needs to try a stronger deodorant. REALLY.
So if there’s any magical weight-loss/smaller-jean-size pixie dust out there in the great void, please feel free to float this way. Or north. Way, way, WAY north. Anywhere between the east coast and the frozen Canadian Tundra will work. Thanks. Appreciate it.
Enjoy the ride.
Anyone taking on a new eating challenge? Do you find the irony in the timing of me trying not to eat all the crap at this particular time of year? How do you keep your weight under control if you can’t run? Do you think the fact that Moose Tracks is the world’s most perfect ice cream is a conspiracy?
Ever feel like you’re stuck in one of these?
I’ve been trying to get back in the swing of things for a week now – obviously, to no avail. At least as far my little literary corner of the world goes. Chaos has reigned supreme in the Black Dog house since before the Wine and Dine, (recap to come, I promise!) Not the least of which was FINALLY finding out what’s wrong with my knees. SPOILER ALERT: It’s NOT ITBS. So hang on, because this storm is about to ramp up. BIG TIME.
So as not to bore you – again – feel free to get the background on my constant smack down with the dreaded IT bands here. On and off for two years – yes, TWO DAMN YEARS. Imagine my surprise when after not one, but two visits to The Man, and one oh-this-is-just-too-much-fun-for-words MRI, it turns out my IT bands are JUST FINE. However, the same cannot be said for these little ditties.
Apparently all the running, ellipitcalling(?), jumping, leaping, and basically anything that caused me to bend my knees, has resulting in my kneecaps throwing up their little cartilage laden paws and barking, “WE GIVE UP!” Official diagnosis from The Man: chondromalacia patella:
“Chondromalacia patellae (also known as CMP) is inflammation of the underside of the patella and softening of thecartilage. Chondromalacia patella is more accurately referred to as patellofemoral pain syndrome. The cartilage under the kneecap is a natural shock absorber, and overuse, injury, and many other factors can cause increased deterioration and break down of the cartilage. The cartilage is no longer smooth and therefore movement and use is painful. While it often affects young individuals engaged in active sports it also afflicts older adults who overwork their knees.“
Thank you very much Wikipedia. Appreciate it.
So. Where do we go from here? Ugly orthopedic shoes, that’s where.
Thankfully, there were much more eye-pleasing alternatives which I took FULL advantage of. (Especially since I think the above mentioned lovelies have a minimum age requirement of about 85.) So it’s metal spring-loaded running shoes ONLY for the next three months, no bending the knees more than 30 degrees, and the biggest heart-stomping directive of them all….NO RUNNING. At least until I go back to see The Man in February. Bye, bye A1A Half Marathon.
But I’m okay with that. Really. If a temporary break from hitting the pavement, wearing funny shoes, and basically trying not to bend my knees for the next few months is what it takes to get back out there again, I’m all over it. Not going absolutely insane in the meantime? Well, that might not be quite so easy.
I’m just going to send this out into the blogosphere. If anyone has an abundance of pixie dust, please feel free to send some in the general direction of my kneecaps. They could use a break. Wait. Perhaps not the best choice of words there. #heavysigh
Enjoy the ride.
Have you ever had to deal with an injury that sidelined you from running? How did you handle it? Were you able to return? How long did it take? Did you have to wear ugly shoes?
I freely admit I totally stole this from Buzzfeed Animals. Even if you only have a passing interest in critters, go check them out. I guarantee some of their daily pics will have you crying from laughter!
Enjoy the ride.
Okay everybody, ‘fess up. How many shoes, bags, or other various non-official doggie chew toy items has your mutt claimed as his/her own? What’s the worst thing – in your opinion – they’ve ever eaten/destroyed/pooped out in the yard?
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