2.33 mile walk 36:27 15:39 pace 8am 81 degrees
Walked today. Slight heel pain at the start so I didn't push it. The discomfort let up after awhile and now it's gone. I'm thinking it's fibrous scarring at the achilles. (It's shown up on previous MRI.)
MANY dog walkers out there today. Tiny dogs, middle-sized dogs, big dogs, and REALLY BIG dogs. All leashed. All well behaved. All with little doggie smiles. The dogs, that is. The owners? I'd say about half were smiling. It's hot out there!
:)
Happy Sunday!
©Michelle Scofield, June 30, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Not Yet
2.8 miles 32 m 53s 11:45 pace 7:20am 79 degrees
Every day and every night, I stand on this perch and I note this new bridge. I lived in this neighborhood several years ago and the bridge wasn't there. The bayou trail was an iffy area for me. I never knew just how far I might go before the path would run out or if I'd be able to cross over to Where-I-Want-To-Be.
I tackled the trail a few times but it wasn't fun. I never went as far as I wanted. I always turned back. I never enjoyed it.
I had no sense of distance.
Now I have a Garmin. (Thanks to my wise son who gives me great running advice.)
I was impressively out of shape.
Now I have much improved respiratory stamina. (Thanks to a solid year of training.)
I lived in fear of failure.
Now I have confidence to try new things. (I worked in surgery for years and I've accomplished racing goals.) Oh, I also failed at efforts and I didn't die. Failure, shmailure.
I was afraid of getting lost. Lost. That's my monster under the bed.
Those who know me know well know that I might as well be a 3 year old who's been blindfolded and spun around a few times. My world is one big Pin The Tail on the Donkey Game. Fortunately, I've adapted to living with no internal compass by becoming very good at identifying and knowing my physical relationship to landmarks.
Today I indulged in a quiet and calm Saturday morning jog - no headphones. Hermann Park was already full of others like me. We were attempting to beat the heat. We smiled and greeted each other on our ways. I had plenty of energy as I came around the turn across from the new bridge. I had a decision to make. I could strike out and explore where that path took me. I might add a few miles to my morning. I looked to my left (my current course) and noted the welcoming shade formed by the trees overhanging the soft footpath. To my right was cement and a whole lotta sunlight.
I stuck with the comfort of what's known. I've had enough change lately.
That big, arched bridge beckons. It's good to know it's there. For another time.
©Michelle Scofield, June 29, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Every day and every night, I stand on this perch and I note this new bridge. I lived in this neighborhood several years ago and the bridge wasn't there. The bayou trail was an iffy area for me. I never knew just how far I might go before the path would run out or if I'd be able to cross over to Where-I-Want-To-Be.
I tackled the trail a few times but it wasn't fun. I never went as far as I wanted. I always turned back. I never enjoyed it.
I had no sense of distance.
Now I have a Garmin. (Thanks to my wise son who gives me great running advice.)
I was impressively out of shape.
Now I have much improved respiratory stamina. (Thanks to a solid year of training.)
I lived in fear of failure.
Now I have confidence to try new things. (I worked in surgery for years and I've accomplished racing goals.) Oh, I also failed at efforts and I didn't die. Failure, shmailure.
I was afraid of getting lost. Lost. That's my monster under the bed.
Those who know me know well know that I might as well be a 3 year old who's been blindfolded and spun around a few times. My world is one big Pin The Tail on the Donkey Game. Fortunately, I've adapted to living with no internal compass by becoming very good at identifying and knowing my physical relationship to landmarks.
Today I indulged in a quiet and calm Saturday morning jog - no headphones. Hermann Park was already full of others like me. We were attempting to beat the heat. We smiled and greeted each other on our ways. I had plenty of energy as I came around the turn across from the new bridge. I had a decision to make. I could strike out and explore where that path took me. I might add a few miles to my morning. I looked to my left (my current course) and noted the welcoming shade formed by the trees overhanging the soft footpath. To my right was cement and a whole lotta sunlight.
I stuck with the comfort of what's known. I've had enough change lately.
That big, arched bridge beckons. It's good to know it's there. For another time.
©Michelle Scofield, June 29, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Friday, June 28, 2013
Unknown Origin
I took the afternoon off work to deal with business details that can't be handled on the weekend. I tried to give myself plenty of time to make it home by 1pm and I still ended up sitting on the freeway for over half an hour. Stuck. Sitting in a snarl of traffic of unknown origin. 59 Highway was a crawling tangle for 30 minutes and then simply broke free. Who knows why?
It was idiopathic.
There are so many details involved in a change of residence: utilities to turn off and on, mail to forward, licenses and registrations to keep straight, etceteras to etcetera.
I think it's all taken care of. I plugged away at it while the cable guy did what he needed to do. The microwave guy never showed up. That's ok. I'm managing just fine with conventional culinary creation. For now.
It will resolve when it resolves.
Between my phone calls and his phone calls, the cable guy and I had a nice conversation. He's a hard-working man from Beaumont, TX. We talked a little about a lot. We both agreed that the United States is in a hella mess right now and it would be extra-sweet if people would just respect each other and treat their fellow humans as they'd like to be treated themselves.
Some things can't be negotiated.
My personal possessions have been pared down by about half. It was a huge undertaking. I'm still making daily trips to Goodwill and the attendants at the collection site no longer act surprised when I pull up after work and pop my trunk to drop off a couple boxes.
I think there's a book in here - in this experience.
Who am I kidding? A month and a half ago I was planning a trip to Europe as well as a trip to Oregon. I knew I would be moving back to Houston. Now I'm working through estrangement from my oldest child and I've made a massive adjustment in my lifestyle.
Of course there's a story there.
The problem is...I still don't know what the story is. I've been extremely busy just trying to live - to survive - while the story goes on around me. Those who are closest to me have reached out and literally held me up and supported me while I've trudged through this.
I've done a few things for myself. I've reached out to others in similar situations. I've sought counseling. I've learned that most people keep these events secret. They are embarrassed. They become cloistered and no one knows what happened. No one knows why they changed.
No one knows.
I'm not asking for intervention, or even for help. I just want you to know that it's happened. And, yes. I've changed. But I'm moving through the pain and the slice to the heart.
I'm here. And I'm moving on.
Love, love.
©Michelle Scofield, June 28, 2013 All Rights Reserved
It was idiopathic.
There are so many details involved in a change of residence: utilities to turn off and on, mail to forward, licenses and registrations to keep straight, etceteras to etcetera.
I think it's all taken care of. I plugged away at it while the cable guy did what he needed to do. The microwave guy never showed up. That's ok. I'm managing just fine with conventional culinary creation. For now.
It will resolve when it resolves.
Between my phone calls and his phone calls, the cable guy and I had a nice conversation. He's a hard-working man from Beaumont, TX. We talked a little about a lot. We both agreed that the United States is in a hella mess right now and it would be extra-sweet if people would just respect each other and treat their fellow humans as they'd like to be treated themselves.
Some things can't be negotiated.
My personal possessions have been pared down by about half. It was a huge undertaking. I'm still making daily trips to Goodwill and the attendants at the collection site no longer act surprised when I pull up after work and pop my trunk to drop off a couple boxes.
I think there's a book in here - in this experience.
Who am I kidding? A month and a half ago I was planning a trip to Europe as well as a trip to Oregon. I knew I would be moving back to Houston. Now I'm working through estrangement from my oldest child and I've made a massive adjustment in my lifestyle.
Of course there's a story there.
The problem is...I still don't know what the story is. I've been extremely busy just trying to live - to survive - while the story goes on around me. Those who are closest to me have reached out and literally held me up and supported me while I've trudged through this.
I've done a few things for myself. I've reached out to others in similar situations. I've sought counseling. I've learned that most people keep these events secret. They are embarrassed. They become cloistered and no one knows what happened. No one knows why they changed.
No one knows.
I'm not asking for intervention, or even for help. I just want you to know that it's happened. And, yes. I've changed. But I'm moving through the pain and the slice to the heart.
I'm here. And I'm moving on.
Love, love.
©Michelle Scofield, June 28, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
