Screw You, Fitbit

Listen here, Fitbit.

You might be able to guilt me into getting my fat ass outside to do some laps around the neighbourhood every morning. You might have even been able to dupe me into walking until I hit ten thousand steps every day. Hell, I even fell for your badges and weekly step counter!

But there is no way in hell you will ever trick me into cleaning!

The Elusive Runner's High

This will be my last post about running, until I get desperate for something to write about and cave only to talk about corns or proper shoes or how to place your hands. Actually, if you are looking for advice, don't read on. I literally have zero help for you. I cannot tell you how to run properly, what shoes to buy, whether you should bend your knees or not. The reason for this is, whenever I am out there, hitting the tarmac, I'm pretty sure I'm doing it wrong. It doesn't come easy. In fact, if you're planning on starting, be forewarned, it isn't fun and it sucks more than it rocks. At least for a little while.  

The endorphins come later. Much. Much. Much. Later.  

There's this thing you hear runners talking about called the runner's high. I always considered it a mythical thing. Like heaven, it's a place where you no longer hurt, breaths come easy, the cramp in your side disappears and you think you can go on forever. When I was running on a treadmill, I could go for hours and I mistakenly thought this was in fact the 'runner's high'. In reality, I was in fact doing it wrong. Turns out you're not supposed to have it on the lowest setting. This simulates a slight decline, meaning you're in fact running downhill, and we all can do that forever. (Only a slight hyperbole) The professionals and die hards say you're supposed to put the treadmill on a one to three percent incline. So, oops.

Outdoors is a completely different matter. When I first started running outside, I noticed it was a lot tougher on ever part of my body. Meaning I worked much harder. Suddenly those hour long running sessions were a thing of the past. Five kilometres was where I drew the line. Except, I've been getting stronger. Not skinnier. No, my thighs are the same hammy girth, but I can walk farther. Jog longer. Move faster. And it isn't so hard anymore. 

So, I decided to run down to the lake. It's only five kilometres there, but when I arrived, I decided to run back. Ten kilometres. This was the farthest I've ran outside on the rugged terrain. Sure, I've done fifteen and twenty on my adventuring, but never running the whole thing. Truthfully, I walk a lot. But I did run the entire way there and back. Not walking once. I am proud, even though it is a drop in the bucket for those nutcases who actually run half marathons, marathons and ultra marathons. And about seven kilometres in, I hit the runner's high. My stride was strong, my posture perfect, breathing easy, and I felt good. Strong. Healthy. Unstoppable. Just between the two of us, I actually contemplated adding more distance! Of course, this was insanity and I snapped out of it and went straight home and into the bath. 

As it turns out, the runner's high does exist. It just doesn't happen for awhile. You have to put time and distance in before you can push back the 'Gee, this is terrible' part of your run. Of course, this is all coming from a woman who's thighs get separation anxiety when in the cobbler pose because they aren't used to being apart. So, take it for what it's worth. 

Morning And Night

So, I have decided to get out of the house more. I find there are a lot of excuses as to why I can't, especially on work days. In the end, those are all bullshit. The harsh language only shows the seriousness of the statement. If I leave it up to myself, I will come up with reasons why I can't get out and breathe the fresh air.

As of July 1st, there have been no excuses. Yes, it's only July 3rd, but that's three days and we don't sniff at successes. We celebrate them. Because there is enough negativity and a little positive thinking goes a long way. In fact, it might just get me out of bed tomorrow morning.

They say routine kills you. I mean, I don't know who they is, but one of them is Paulo Coelho. He's responsible for the quote pictured below.

And it isn't that I disagree with him. No, I think adventuring and exploration, of mind, body and nature, is important. But I also think routine can help you out of a rut. If something is truly important and you make a habit of doing it, then maybe it transcends routine. Maybe then it becomes living.

I've decided to make reacquainting myself with the world part of my routine. Twice a day. Morning and night. 7AM and 7PM. I will be out in the world, breathing the air and moving my limbs. Right now, this is almost a chore. Don't look at my like I am lazy. It takes energy to tie those sneakers up. But I feel the benefits already. This is a nice way to start and end my day. It gives me time to gear up and down.

Okay, so this is routine right now. But I suspect by the end of the month, it won't be routine. It will be something I look forward to. Something I love. Moments I cherish because I am alone and reconnecting with Mother Nature. Eventually, I will only have one routine and it will be this:

Dildos & Sore Feet

There's this guy I'm head over heels in love with. He's utter perfection. Just adorable. Kind. Gentle. A bit hyperactive at times. A gorgeous personality. Clumsy. Mischievous. But there's a bit of an issue. You see, he's gotten fat. Now, don't look at me like that. I love a little extra something-something, but the winter months have not been kind. And yes, I feel terrible saying this. I mean, how can anyone say such things about such a magnificent creature?

So, I haven't. I mean, there's know way I can tell him he's chubby. When we go out in public and people call him a 'brute' or comment on how 'massive' he is, I tell him they are talking about his personality. Not about his size. I always take the time to tell him he is beautiful. And just the perfect the way he is. But the truth is, he needs to slim down. The even more heart breaking truth is I have also suffered the past couple months. I too am out of shape. There are no excuses, even though I have plenty I can try to pawn off as the reason why my thighs are meeting a little more forcefully than normal.

A couple months ago I was doing so well. We were going for walks every day. Hikes in the mountains. Jaunts around the block. We were at one with nature, except that asshole dog who attacked us that time and scared us into not wanting to go out. Hence the hibernation. Anyhow, I have resolved to get us both outdoors more, not only because of the weight issue, but because it's detrimental to the health of my grey matter for me to check in with nature, sink my feet into the earth, breathe the sweet forest air, and give props to Mother Nature for her most excellent and creative ways. 

Today, Dixon and I made the trek into Royston, to the beach. It's about 7.5 kilometres there, then we had to walk all the way back, so 15 kilometres both ways. It didn't take too long, really. Less than three hours. Worth every single minute. When we got to the beach, Dixon walked in the water and happened to pull me in with him. Wet shoes and an hour and half walk home didn't leave me all that enthusiastic, but there were no options. It's not like they'd let Dixon ride the bus, so I was determined not to let it ruin my experience.  

While we were walking into Royston, I stopped to take a picture of skunk cabbage which, despite its name, is actually quite beautiful. So, I crouched down to get the shot, steady my hand, try to ignore the dog pulling me this way and that, and I think I got a pretty good shot. 

  

But as I was getting back to my feet, I saw it in the water. Flesh coloured. Long. Thick. Alone. And I laughed out loud, because what else is there to do in that situation. Oh, and I took a picture, because who would believe me if I didn't get photographic evidence?

Yep, that's right, in the creek at the side of the road was a ten inch dildo. Just sitting there. No owner around. Of course, I got to thinking about who this could have belonged to and how it got here, in the middle of nowhere, at the side of the road, in the water. Still, the bigger question I had was, how many other abandoned dildos are out there in the world?

I didn't touch it. I left it there, hoping it would make someone else laugh.

Granted, you might be thinking this was the highlight of our walk, but it wasn't. I love going out exploring. Every time I take a new trail, I get excited over what I might find. The whole way down, I walked the roadway, so there wasn't any twisting forest trails, but the nature was there. On either side of us, the water rushing, the scent of evergreens and fresh rain. As the day progressed, the drizzle stopped, the grey sky parted and the sun came out to play. And I found these train tracks. Whenever I cross a set, I think about all the trains that used to run on them, the things they carried, the people who worked them, when they were laid.

Even though we are both out of shape, both packing around a few extra pounds, we made it to the beach. We got down there in about an hour and a half. No one was there. It was just the two of us. Sure, we didn't stay long, but we set a goal, or I did for both of us, and we stuck to it.

The beach was stunning. The tide was out. Little puddles held sea life. Rocks were slick with algae and seaweed. We tasted sea salt on the air. Wind ruffled our hair. Off to one side there were these shipwrecked vessels, all rusted and rotten. They were too far out for us to get to in order to explore, but they looked so neat standing there against the backdrop of the land and water. 

On the other side, just openness. No restrictions. No rules.

Our journey home proved to be a bit painful, for both of us. I could tell by how slow Dixon was moving and his frequent stops to drink water in the creek that he was feeling the burn. As for myself, my ass and thighs hurts, but it's that great hurt, the one telling you you're doing something right. The pain that makes you feel alive. On our return walk, I found myself looking in the creek more and thinking about how such odd things strike me as beautiful. There was this grass in the water and it was bending with the current, as it always does, but the way it was folding over and moving with the rush of water struck me as so pretty.

This picture doesn't really do it justice. You're just going to have to take my word for gospel. The grass in the water was lovely, okay?

Anyway, my feet are sore, but the walk was totally worth it. And I'm pretty sure the big guy feels the same way. It's nice I have these places to explore and the time to spend walking for three hours. Sometimes it gets away from me, but I really do live a very nice life.