And on a MUCH MORE IMPORTANT NOTE....
are we all getting up early on Sunday/staying up late on Saturday to watch the Dr Who 50th anniversary special? Of course we are.
oh come now, we all want to be River Song
More anon, sonic screwdrivers!
Friday, November 22, 2013
Motto for the week
And on a MUCH MORE IMPORTANT NOTE....
are we all getting up early on Sunday/staying up late on Saturday to watch the Dr Who 50th anniversary special? Of course we are.
More anon, sonic screwdrivers!
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Captain Obvious
Much cogitation has occurred within the LBTEPA noggin of late.
I have come to the conclusion that speaking to my former friend about her decisions would be pointless. She can do what she wants and I am not judging her. I don't choose to have people like her in my life. Noddie, being ten, is all for telling her to drop dead and that I hope those medals are worth 15 years of friendship, but the only reason I would do that would be so she felt terribly guilty and didn't enjoy her experience. Revenge, if you will. Not my best self, so not happening (although I did have a very vivid dream in which I gave her absolute what-for and awoke feeling very satisfied). Mind you if she pushes the issue I promise nothing.
I caught up with the mighty Emma on the weekend - always a pleasure! - and we discussed what we would do if we had the urge to do a race the other had dreamed of but had been unable to do. I said at the time that I'd discuss it, ask permission almost - but I was wrong! If, for example, I decided all of a sudden that I wanted to have a crack at Coast to Kosi, Emma's dream race (she's insane), I wouldn't discuss it with her before entering it. I wouldn't do it. It's her dream, not mine, and I wouldn't rub her nose in the fact she couldn't have it. Why? Because she's my friend.
I suppose the way I've summed it up for myself is that my former friend can have anything she wants but not everything she wants.
Now enough about that.
I've come to the belated conclusion that I have been going about this while new exercise/food/drink regime to wrong way. For the first while I was focussed on 'shoulds' - I should have done this, shouldn't have done that etc. This is wrong, I can't do it, it's too hard. I was feeling sick about going to the gym, I wasn't enjoying my food, I felt guilty all the time. I was often nearly in tears. I was drowning in failure. It was unpleasant.
Then somehow I managed to see it another way. I think it began the week I logged my planned and actual exercise - and five out of seven didn't work out, for reasons including I chose spending time with my family over the gym, my mother-in-law's nursing care was unacceptable so I had to storm up to the hospital and Sort It Out, I wanted to keep going and finish a craft project I've been mucking around on fifteen minutes at a time for months, and choosing to work late so I could have a full day off instead of spending Friday in the office. One of the workouts didn't happen at all (shame! shame!), but on the other days I did something else. I wasn't a failure at all! I was only calling myself that! (slaps forehead, says 'duh!'). It's not as though I'm training for anything in particular - anthing si enough, for the moment! Duh!
I had another 'duh!' moment this week. As my five faithful readers know, LBTEPA is partial to a sherby. I know it's the reason I've gained so much weight, but somehow not-getting-any-fatter wasn't a good enough reason to not indulge. Being lardy with no clothes that fit just made me sadder and want another drink! I know, I know.... lame lame lame. My weight is, however, a clear factor in the slowness of my rehab, and the other day it occurred to me that every day without alcohol is a day closer to racing again. OMG! See? Duh! Uber-duh!I don't know how long it will work, but I plan to ride that rattler as far as it goes.
More anon, hobos!
I have come to the conclusion that speaking to my former friend about her decisions would be pointless. She can do what she wants and I am not judging her. I don't choose to have people like her in my life. Noddie, being ten, is all for telling her to drop dead and that I hope those medals are worth 15 years of friendship, but the only reason I would do that would be so she felt terribly guilty and didn't enjoy her experience. Revenge, if you will. Not my best self, so not happening (although I did have a very vivid dream in which I gave her absolute what-for and awoke feeling very satisfied). Mind you if she pushes the issue I promise nothing.
I caught up with the mighty Emma on the weekend - always a pleasure! - and we discussed what we would do if we had the urge to do a race the other had dreamed of but had been unable to do. I said at the time that I'd discuss it, ask permission almost - but I was wrong! If, for example, I decided all of a sudden that I wanted to have a crack at Coast to Kosi, Emma's dream race (she's insane), I wouldn't discuss it with her before entering it. I wouldn't do it. It's her dream, not mine, and I wouldn't rub her nose in the fact she couldn't have it. Why? Because she's my friend.
I suppose the way I've summed it up for myself is that my former friend can have anything she wants but not everything she wants.
Now enough about that.
I've come to the belated conclusion that I have been going about this while new exercise/food/drink regime to wrong way. For the first while I was focussed on 'shoulds' - I should have done this, shouldn't have done that etc. This is wrong, I can't do it, it's too hard. I was feeling sick about going to the gym, I wasn't enjoying my food, I felt guilty all the time. I was often nearly in tears. I was drowning in failure. It was unpleasant.
Then somehow I managed to see it another way. I think it began the week I logged my planned and actual exercise - and five out of seven didn't work out, for reasons including I chose spending time with my family over the gym, my mother-in-law's nursing care was unacceptable so I had to storm up to the hospital and Sort It Out, I wanted to keep going and finish a craft project I've been mucking around on fifteen minutes at a time for months, and choosing to work late so I could have a full day off instead of spending Friday in the office. One of the workouts didn't happen at all (shame! shame!), but on the other days I did something else. I wasn't a failure at all! I was only calling myself that! (slaps forehead, says 'duh!'). It's not as though I'm training for anything in particular - anthing si enough, for the moment! Duh!
I had another 'duh!' moment this week. As my five faithful readers know, LBTEPA is partial to a sherby. I know it's the reason I've gained so much weight, but somehow not-getting-any-fatter wasn't a good enough reason to not indulge. Being lardy with no clothes that fit just made me sadder and want another drink! I know, I know.... lame lame lame. My weight is, however, a clear factor in the slowness of my rehab, and the other day it occurred to me that every day without alcohol is a day closer to racing again. OMG! See? Duh! Uber-duh!I don't know how long it will work, but I plan to ride that rattler as far as it goes.
More anon, hobos!
Monday, November 18, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
quick question
Oh my but I have SUCH lot to write - so many (ahem) 'profound' thoughts to record for posterity!
But today I have a question for you, my five faithful readers.
Just suppose you were a heavyish middle-aged-ish Very Slow Marathoner who had A Big (and very expensive) Dream of running an amazing race in a Magic Kingdom on the other side of the world. Suppose you worked hard and saved up and trained and dreamed of little else for a couple of years. And just suppose fate cruelly snatched that Big Dream from you by way of a last-minute injury, while still obliging you to travel across the world and keep a stiff upper lip while your nose was rubbed in what you couldn't have.Suppose you did this with as good grace and as much gratitude as you could muster, becuase life isn't all about you, and returned home, and got on with life, and then had another injury, one that sometimes seemed endless. Sometimes you wondered if you would ever get your athletic life back again, ever. And always, always, you got on with stoically mourning that Big expensive Dream on the other side of the world.
Then suppose you had travelled several hours to celebrate the birthday of a someone who you would have considered one of your dearest, closest, have-your-back-no-matter-what friends, with whom you have shared many trials and tribulations over these fifteen years and to whom you speak regularly. During conversation at this dinner party it came up that she herself was going across the world to run at the magic kingdom next January. Seven weeks from now she will be wearing those three medals that you so longed for.
She'd never heard of the race until you told her about it.
It sold out in August and she has only mentioned it to you yesterday becuase someone else made a comment.
She's extremely well off and could afford to do any race on the ****ing planet if she wanted to.
She's done two half marathons and one full to date.
Now suppose that some time over the next frozen day you decide that, whilst acknowledging unreservedly that she has every right to go wherever she pleases, you don't need people like that in your life.
Question: do you tell her you never want to see or hear from her again and she sure as F*** better not wear her Team SD shirt to run Goofy, or just very determinedly and politely (for that is the LBTEPA way) let the friendship go?
The vote here at chez LBTEPA is tied. I'm torn, but leaning toward the latter approach. You?
More anon, cogitators!
But today I have a question for you, my five faithful readers.
Just suppose you were a heavyish middle-aged-ish Very Slow Marathoner who had A Big (and very expensive) Dream of running an amazing race in a Magic Kingdom on the other side of the world. Suppose you worked hard and saved up and trained and dreamed of little else for a couple of years. And just suppose fate cruelly snatched that Big Dream from you by way of a last-minute injury, while still obliging you to travel across the world and keep a stiff upper lip while your nose was rubbed in what you couldn't have.Suppose you did this with as good grace and as much gratitude as you could muster, becuase life isn't all about you, and returned home, and got on with life, and then had another injury, one that sometimes seemed endless. Sometimes you wondered if you would ever get your athletic life back again, ever. And always, always, you got on with stoically mourning that Big expensive Dream on the other side of the world.
Then suppose you had travelled several hours to celebrate the birthday of a someone who you would have considered one of your dearest, closest, have-your-back-no-matter-what friends, with whom you have shared many trials and tribulations over these fifteen years and to whom you speak regularly. During conversation at this dinner party it came up that she herself was going across the world to run at the magic kingdom next January. Seven weeks from now she will be wearing those three medals that you so longed for.
She'd never heard of the race until you told her about it.
It sold out in August and she has only mentioned it to you yesterday becuase someone else made a comment.
She's extremely well off and could afford to do any race on the ****ing planet if she wanted to.
She's done two half marathons and one full to date.
Now suppose that some time over the next frozen day you decide that, whilst acknowledging unreservedly that she has every right to go wherever she pleases, you don't need people like that in your life.
Question: do you tell her you never want to see or hear from her again and she sure as F*** better not wear her Team SD shirt to run Goofy, or just very determinedly and politely (for that is the LBTEPA way) let the friendship go?
The vote here at chez LBTEPA is tied. I'm torn, but leaning toward the latter approach. You?
More anon, cogitators!
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