Bust a Rut

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Regular gym-goers have a tendency to dread the facility in January. Every machine and every corner is occupied from pre-dawn to well after dark. It can become frustrating when the new exercisers make it difficult to use a machine, invade your personal space in a class or elongate your workout due to the extra wait time.

I used to grumble every year about the influx of newbies. Some years, I even avoided the gym for much of January, only to return once the numbers dwindled down to a more reasonable level.

I don’t complain anymore. After all, we cannot always change our circumstances, but we can always change our attitude. The people are coming, I might as well learn how to accept it:)

I actually really enjoy seeing people embark on a fitness routine. I love seeing the determination and I celebrate their success. I am often more inspired by the people setting foot in a gym for the first time than I am by the people who visit every day. It takes some real guts to start something new, especially when you feel like an outsider. (A la Sephora)

What I don’t like is that my routine is inevitably disrupted.

I don’t have a prescribed set of exercises. I change things up. But I prefer to change them up on my terms.

January doesn’t allow that to happen.

Overnight, I go from being able to choose what exercises I want to do to having to think on the spot and do whatever I can with whatever I can.

It’s a rude awakening, having to relinquish that control.

But I actually kind of like it.

Let’s be honest, if not required by necessity, I wouldn’t bust out of my fitness rut. I may change things up, but I only change them within my comfort zone. In January, there is no comfort zone. It’s already filled with guys doing bench press and ladies doing core work. Rather than alter just a few exercises, I’m forced to start from scratch every time.

It’s frustrating. But also revitalizing.

You don’t see the rut until you’re strong armed into busting it.

Often, when we face change on our terms, we seek to control it. We move slowly or at least in measured and thought out increments. In some ways, change on our terms in easier since we feel like we are in the driver’s seat. Yet, it can also be more challenging as you have to battle with your own fear each step of the way.

Sometimes life doesn’t allow us to change at our own pace. Sometimes it comes as a great big unwanted shift that requires adaptation and acceptance.

Or complaining and resistance.

It’s really your choice.

And for all the gym newbies, I wish you the best. I hope to still see you in February. Just please don’t hog the squat rack:)

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

I recently became aware of the blogger and Twitterer Lisa Adams (@AdamsLisa). Lisa is a mother of three who is living with and dying from stage four breast cancer. She has been in the news lately because some journalists have spoken out against her publicly discussing her illness and the realities of dying. The writers are praising those who die quietly, privately while decrying Lisa’s warrior stance against her disease.

Lisa’s approach to her disease is hers and hers alone. I am thankful that she is willing to share the good, the bad and the ugly of the entire experience. Our modern western existence is separated from death and dying. It has been turned into something medical and removed. Many of us never see its nuances until we face it ourselves. As a psychology of grief class I took explained, this separation of life from death complicates the modern grieving experience. It pulls a shroud over the entire process, even though it is a universal one.

Lisa’s tweets can be difficult to read for those not in the same boat. We want to believe that it cannot happen to us. We want to turn our heads.

And we can.

We can choose not to read. Not to see.

But I’m glad it’s there for those who find reassurance in her words and comfort in her thoughts.

And for all of us, living near death reminds us how to be alive.

I have no close, personal experience with cancer. I have not had it and I have not been close to someone dying of it apart from my experience in the pediatric oncology ward. But I do have experience with writing about another of life’s uglier sides. And, like Lisa, I have faced negativity and those who question why I choose to write about divorce.

I cannot speak for Lisa Adams, but I can share why I refuse to be quiet.

I refuse to be quiet because my silence makes others more comfortable.

I refuse to be quiet because if my voice can help one other person, it is worth speaking.

I refuse to be quiet when a chorus of voices can help create change.

And I refuse to be quiet because doing so feels like dying while I am still alive.

So, Lisa Adams, share your voice and know that it is heard and that we all benefit from listening.

And even though you may not kick cancer’s butt, you’re kicking butt on your way out.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

And know that your voice will be heard long after you’re gone.

Fine China

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It seems like people possess one of two mindsets when it comes to their dishes.

Some invest in a glorious set of matching fine china with visions of dinner parties and holiday dinners dancing through their heads. The dishes are prized, often protected behind the glass barricade of a cabinet. Every use requires an internal debate – is the perceived benefit worth the possible breakage that could occur? Most “china” families that I have known usually ere on the side of caution. The china becomes something to admire from afar while more plain plates grace the dinner table. No event seems quite good enough to unlock the doors.

Those on the other side of the divide either fill their cabinets with accumulated ware or purchase a budget-friendly matched set. There is no debate about bringing out a certain plate. After all, plates are meant to be eaten from. Sometimes, a bowl may chip when it meets the counter’s edge or a plate may shatter if it is dropped to the floor. It is a loss, certainly. But it is understood that some loss is inherent in the use of dishes.

I see that same dichotomy in people’s mindset after heartbreak.

Some people, after experiencing the crushing blow of the end of a relationship, vow to never risk that feeling again. They work to repair their heart and then they hide it away, afraid that using it would open them up to further heartbreak. With each encounter, they carefully weigh the potential risks against the possible reward. And usually they ere on the side of caution. Nobody ever seems quite worth the risk of tearing down the barriers.

Other are less cautious. They feel the heartbreak just as intently, but they understand that some amount of loss is inherent in love. Once their hearts are repaired, they are ready to put it back on the table. Even if that means that it may break again. After all, aren’t hearts meant to love and be loved?

A note to those of you in “china” families: I don’t get y’all, but I’m jealous. My home will never look as good or as put together:) Keep rocking that china! And, on a related note, please don’t judge if you’re over for dinner. You will be eating off chipped plates. Which I happen to think are perfect.

 

Begin

Posted on by stilllearning2b

begin

We All Feel That Way Sometimes

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have a…thing coming up that requires that I be coiffed and groomed. Those are not skills I possess. I mean, I shower and all but I am more wash n go than Barbie.

I decided that it was time to invest in some makeup that is designed to look good under lights and on film. And, I do mean invest. Those few small bottles cost more than the groceries for the week. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Not only is the world of the fancy makeup a foreign one to me, I am actually afraid of it. I couldn’t fathom walking into the store without prior knowledge. I needed a Rosetta Stone class of sorts so that I could at least speak a few words of beauty. So, as with all burning questions in the social media age, I started my query on Facebook.

My friends came through with lots of suggestions. Many of them even called makeup “fun.” Who are these women?:)

So yesterday, I steeled myself and walked, head held low, into Sephora, the land of all that is beauty. I immediately felt like an intruder, unwelcome. Even the men had on more makeup than me. I walked through the aisles of sparkles and spackles until I found the product I had decided upon.

And then I was a bit stuck. There were 25(!) shades to choose from. And I was starting from scratch. I looked around for an open assistant, but they were all occupied, many helping girls the age of my students.

And then one approached me. She smiled. Was friendly. Was well-groomed but not perfect. I liked her. She led me over to a station where they use a small computer/camera to take a picture of your skin for color matching purposes. I found this oddly comforting; it reminded me of buying paint at Home Depot, a familiar endeavor.

Once matched, I collected my product and inquired about application techniques. Bless this woman, she wasn’t trying to sell. She actually encouraged me to try hand application first and return for a brush if I felt like I needed it. Unfortunately (to my wallet at least), I decided that I needed it after hearing the pros and cons.

And then stupid me inquired about concealer. Which led to another tub of goo and yet another brush. By this point, I had a small basket of product. I no longer looked like a tourist. But I still felt like one.

When the cashier asked if I had a loyalty card, I actually laughed and explained a bit about my general beauty attitude and my discomfort in the store. A male employee (with the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen) smiled and quipped, “That’s how I feel in the gym which is why I’m so skinny.”

I could have kissed him.

Not only did he relate, but the example he gave was where I feel most at home. We joked for a minute about him helping me with makeup and me helping him with pull ups.

We all feel that way sometimes, like interlopers. Pariahs on the outskirts of the group. But that separation and discomfort is in our heads, not reality. We all have areas where we are more comfortable and we can use those times to reach out to those who appear to be struggling.

I wished him luck on his workouts and exchanged a spirited fist bump before leaving the store. This time, with my head held high.

Related: Say Stress to the Dress