Real Life Application of CrossFit Theory for a Grandma Who Lifts

Why do I CrossFit?

Let's use today as an example.

I completed my appointment at the World's Largest Medical Center and made my way to my car. Earlier this morning, I parked on the 6th floor - toward the top of the parking structure. At 8:30 am, I had my pick of spaces and there weren't a lot of cars on that floor. By 10:00 am, the place was jam-packed. As I approached my space, I realized I had a problem.  Although my car was easily between MY two yellow lines, a big ol' red extended cab pickup was parked just inches (maybe 2? maybe 3?) from my driver's side. He was angled over the line and into my space. A sedan was on the passenger side, also over the line and into my space.

Well, shit.

I took a minute to assess the situation and, happily, looked up to see a security vehicle making the rounds. I flagged the officer who got out and he immediately started shaking his head.  "Yeah, that's not good."

I had to laugh at the way he summed it up.  He called the Texas Medical Center police switchboard who said the Parking Department would have to handle it. He jotted down a phone number for me and went on his way.

Again. Shit.

I tried to call the parking department but the number I was given wasn't in service.

Big breath. Oh, look! Here comes a TMC police cruiser.  The police officer stops, gets out of his vehicle and asks me if I'm a good driver. Hell, yeah. I'm a good driver! I told him I used to drive an ambulance in Kansas - sometimes in the snow. "Great! You can do this!"

Let's talk functional fitness here. And heart rate control. And following direction. And trust. And teamwork.

We folded up the mirrors of my car and the car to my right. That left a sliver for me to eek through but I had to do a squatting/limbo kind of move to even enter and THEN I had to balance on my right foot while I wiggled my way in to get a foothold on the floor of the passenger side. Once there, I only had to crawl over the console to get into the driver's seat. Whew!

I was kind of wound up by then. I needed to be calm and listen.

Windows down so I could hear instructions. Deep breath. Concentrate.

Inch by inch, we worked together to get the damned thing out of that parking spot. He gave me corrections, I made them. When I finally got clear (without a scratch to any of the cars), we cheered together.

This entire episode literally mirrors my White Board and WOD experience every time I go to the gym.  Gather information, pay attention to the details, trust in the coach, listen and make adjustments as needed, celebrate achievement.

Seriously, celebrate your damned achievements! Life is too challenging and too full of possible disappointments not to cheer when you can.

Anniversary

On August 1, 2016, I stepped into a new world. I was terrified of many things: the equipment, my lack of strength and coordination, the strangers who might judge me. I had an abject fear and loathing of team sports participation. I signed up for an introduction to CrossFit at my son's urging (encouragement? prodding?).  A lot has changed for me in 2 years.

This afternoon I was thumbing through my CF journal where I keep a record of the workouts and my weights/times.

2 years ago my deadlift weight was 25#.  I could bench press 45#.  Light weight kettle bell squats were too much for me, I modified to air squats. Weighted overhead squats were virtually impossible due to instability and immobility.

The first few months of journal entries are sprinkled with happy faces, occasional sad faces, notes regarding painful joints, "next time"s, "atta girl"s, and lots and lots of exclamation points.  I was still learning the language and had no grasp on acronyms so I wrote out EVERYTHING.

After a while, I started marking the margins with asterisks.  *Did a box jump! *Hero WOD. *Benchmark.  *PR!!!

When my knee pain became more than I could/should handle, I saw a doctor and had to modify many of the workouts. The coaches were great about helping me switch things up to avoid further injury and to strengthen surrounding muscles.  They worked with me on technique and mobility. I didn't squat for a very long time. In reviewing my journal, I see that I started setting more and more PRs when I started taking care of myself.

My participation in the 2018 CrossFit Open was actually FUN!  For 5 weeks, I looked forward to Thursday nights (when the next workout was announced) and I enjoyed pushing myself to be as fast and strong as I could be. Spending time recovering from joint damage (at least acutely) gave me the confidence to complete a couple of the Open workouts as prescribed (as opposed to scaled). I placed better this year than last and I'm looking forward to 2019.

I'm lifting much more weight now. I'm mostly past my social anxiety, and I enjoy partnering up for some workouts.  I try to welcome newcomers to the gym as soon as I see them.  I'm much more accepting of my body and look at joint limitations as a challenge rather than a hindrance.  I'm still not a big fan of the schoolyard-type games that we sometimes play during warmup.  (Everything is dodgeball to me. Everything.)  I play along, though, knowing that it will only last a few minutes and then we're on to the fun stuff.  I've made real friends at the gym. My social circle is brighter for it.

Likely related to my strengths and weaknesses, I've developed a fondness for strongman exercise and some weightlifting.  Sure! I can carry that heavy thing from point A to point B. Let's go! I get a silly little thrill when I realize dead ball cleans are on the schedule. You want me to lift something over my head? Yes!

I have a new understanding of discomfort related to time. I can do almost anything for just 1 more minute - no matter how fatigued I think I am. Working out in a facility without air conditioning has made me appreciate sweat. It means I'm working hard and (I tell myself) it's also great for my skin.  I've become more tolerant of being uncomfortable and I think I've gained some perspective about actual pain. Perhaps...I've become a little tougher?

Back to that team sport thing.  Encouraging, high-fiving, cheering, competing (with and against)...all of these things are activities I've kind of missed out on my entire life. I'm surprisingly thankful for them now. Go, team!

My CrossFit journal is almost full. Time to buy a new one. I can't wait to fill it up.

Option Not Taken

There was always the option to punk out.

No, not really.  No matter how intimidating the workout looked, I was there.

Push that sled 25 meters and push it back.
Pick up that 50# ball and carry it 50 meters.  Then carry it back.
Sprint 200 meters.

Start all over again.

Oh, do all of this outside in the heat and humidity - on an asphalt parking lot.

Go!

I have eliminated caffeine at least 4 hours prior to a workout.  I thought that might help me with the sensation of my heart pounding out of my chest and also with the very dry mouth.  Nah.

It's not caffeine. It's adrenaline.  I'm fighting and flighting my way through workouts more intense than any I've ever done.

No punking out.   My heart will beat as fast as it needs to and I'll fill my lungs with the air they require.  My dry mouth is a sign that my chemistry is doing what it's designed to do.  To me, the most outstanding aspect of Crossfit is that I'm learning just how hard I can push myself.

So that's easy enough to say about the physical aspect of starting a new program.  It's not quite so easy for me socially.  When a task is completed, there are high fives, fist bumps, pats on the back.  After that sled/heavy ball/sprint workout, a woman remarked that I'm strong.  I immediately joked about my previous marital history and how it made me stronger.

???

Maybe it did but I didn't need to shrug off a compliment by putting myself down.

Lessons learned.   I like it!  Now, I must remember to say this:  "Thanks!"

I'm no punk.

Waiting for the Rain

So this is supposed to happen later today.

Supposed to.  We've been waiting for it all day.  I was done with my Hermann Park walk by 7:15 AM.  I straightened my place, did a little paperwork, and watched an episode of Breaking Bad. (I'm rewatching the entire series because a friend is watching for the first time and this way I can remember what he's talking about.  Binge-watching is fun but my retention is awful.)

I read a couple chapters in a novel and then took off my glasses.  I thought I'd lay down and take a nap.  That lasted about 10 minutes. It's Saturday and it's not 100 degrees out.  Why was I wasting a perfectly good low-traffic day in Houston?  I got up and got myself over to the Arts District in the 6th Ward.  I'm not buying now - at least not planning on it - but I like to know who's out there with what.   I like to touch base with my artist friends.

I accomplished all of that and then some.  

If you're looking for a way to while away a couple hours, the Sawyer Yard area is great. We have a real gem there.  I cut my collecting teeth at Winter Street so it will always be my first love.  It's not slick.  The air conditioning is iffy at best.  It has character.  I gathered 3 hugs but passed on several offers of wine and cookies.  (Priorities.)

The newest addition to the complex (The Silos) is housed in an old Success Rice plant.  The lighting is wonderful and the studios are new and polished.  You can still smell the paint.  You can also catch the faintest aroma of rice.  Passing through a connector hall, I was suddenly in my mom's kitchen - on those days when we had instant rice with ground beef and ketchup.  Not a great meal but a wonderful memory.

The rain can do it's thing and I'll be happy knowing that I spent some time with myself and with a few friends (old and new).  I'm back home with a cup of coffee and my own art collection.  Not a bad way to spend the rest of the afternoon.  If you're ever in the frame of mind to meet some local artists - even better, to support some local artists, let me know.  We'll do a Second Saturday together and I'll introduce you to my friends.  

The Heaviness of Fear

Today I completed the 2 week On Ramp class at CrossFit Central Houston. I'm amazed at the amount of learning and change I've undergone in the past 2 weeks.  I've been sore in places I didn't know could hurt.  I'm drinking more water and my diet is much cleaner.  My clothes are fitting better.  My sleep is deeper. Now comes the hard part.  Even with coaching and encouragement, I'm super-hesitant to jump into classes 2 or 3 times a week.  I trust the coaches.  I observed them observing me and I listened as they explained how I can do things better.

I've learned about proper use of equipment and body mechanics.  I've also learned a lot about my state of mind and how it can help or hinder my progress.    

Fear.

It's heavier than any weight in the gym.  It offers more resistance than the thickest of elastic bands.  It looms higher than the highest of pull up bars.

Twice this week I was close to tears while working out.  

The first time, I was feeling a kind of euphoria - I guess.  (The runner's high mostly eluded me in my years of distance running.)  Toward the end of Monday's workout, I was having fun.  The rowing machine is in my wheelhouse.  I felt comfortable with deadlifts.  I was getting the swing of kettle bell swings.  My heart rate was up and I was soaked in sweat.  It felt great!  And then I realized I felt like crying.  Huh?

Today we learned the Clean lift. Let me back up a bit and say that we started off with Wall Balls.  That exercise requires a start from squat and powering up to throw a medicine ball above a painted line on the wall.  Flexibility is something I've steadfastly ignored through my years of running.  Performing a squat is tough for me.  Really tough.  I was moved back to air squats so I could work on my form and depth.  Great!  Or, not.  Ego rears it's ugly head at the most ridiculous times.  I am working hard to allow my gratitude for coaching to outweigh my fear of embarrassment. 

So we move on to the lift.  It's hard, people!   These movements don't come naturally to me.  A major portion of the lift is allowing the bar to move through potential energy and then finishing with kinetic energy.  The control freak part of my brain wants to JUST MOVE THE WEIGHT!!!  Not exactly efficient.  This is a great lesson for me, though.  Muscling my way through the lifts (and through life) isn't good for me.  I want what is good for me.  Awesome!  And now I feel like crying again.  But I don't because I'm just not going to.

Finishing the class, we were given general information on membership.  Fear sat with me in that room.  Here was my verbalized question:  "Does anyone ever repeat On Ramp?"  The answer: "Some people do."  The coach followed with encouragement to keep working, go to classes...step up and face the challenge.

I'm going to let Fear have it's place here.  It exists.  It's been my near-constant companion for over 50 years.  The thing is, it's not beaten me yet.  I can't muscle past it but I can work smart and get the job done.  I'm looking forward to exploring the feelings associated with this new endeavor - emotional AND physical feelings.  

Now where did I put that foam roller?

Two Openings: One Gallery

Alfredo Scaroina is showing "Reclaimed Matter" at Deborah Colton Gallery. I've watched Mr. Scaroina for several years. He has been a bold mixer of materials and color. Most of these works are large in scale. (At least one is composed on a door). The evolution I note with these works is more depth and a call to the viewer to spend time puzzling over the choice of media. Three years ago, the word "subtle" wouldn't have crossed my mind when viewing a Scaroina work. Last night, it did. Change happens. For my taste, this is a good thing.

Walk to the back of the gallery to see David Graeve's "Civil Disobedience to Direct Action". It thrills me to see innovation in art. Mr. Graeve forces us to tilt this way and that to see what he has sculpted into his work. Although the pieces are thematic, they don't seem contrived. Walking through the rooms filled with his sculpture, I felt in the presence of an encompassing knowledge of the science of moving objects from one form into another to create art. It's a fascinating exhibit.

Both of these exhibits are worthy of more than just a quick pass-through. Give yourself time to study them and appreciate the thoughtful work of these very talented artists.



Deborah Colton Gallery
2445 North Boulevard
Houston, TX 77098
July 12, 2014 - August 23, 2014




©Michelle Scofield, July 13, 2014, All Rights Reserved

Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris

A friend asked me if I live at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston. No, but sometime I wish it were so.

I attended this exhibit, Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris, with a Meetup Group. This gathering of people who appreciate art in all forms came together on Thursday evening to view a collection of photos by Marville, who worked as the official photographer for the city of Paris in the mid 1800's.

The photographs capture cityscape as still life and inspired in me feelings of sadness for inevitable sweep of change to come. Pay attention to the small details, for certainly Marville did. He caught the industrial bits and pieces that were new but also transient.

The technical descriptions of the photography were inspiring for this neophyte, as well.

Charles Marville: Photographer of Paris
Through 9/14/2014
Beck Building, Lower Level
Museum of Fine Arts Houston
Admission to this exhibit included with your general admission ticket

Sunday Afternoon At Redbud Gallery

Moe Profane Nihilism and Nanner Puddin
June 7-June 29, 2014
Redbud Gallery
303 E. 11th Street Houston, TX 77008

Gallery Hours Wed-Sun 12-5pm

I wish I'd found this exhibit sooner. Thanks to KM for pointing me in the right direction. As it is, I'm letting you know about it just a week before it closes, but you may still have time to swing by.

This is a small, well-curated display of pop-meets-vintage-meets-humor that doesn't feel overworked. I have a particular hangup about these genres. They often come across as kitsch to me. These pieces don't. Neither did they feel haphazard.

After viewing the Moe Profane exhibit, we took in the collection in the room directly behind the front gallery. There was quite a collection of painting, lithographs, and sculptures to browse.  Several strong pieces: a Miro lithograph, a Jasper Johns, some African tribal work.  I found it masculine, expensive, and interesting.



We also stepped right next door to:

G Gallery
301 E. 11th Street Houston, TX 77008

There is an eclectic collection at G Gallery to be sure. Spend some time. Parking is a breeze. The great thing about the Heights is that time seems to pass so pleasantly and there is always a coffee shop around the corner. I'm looking forward to events at both of these galleries, now that I've found them.


©Michelle Scofield, June 23, 2014, All Rights Reserved

Upstairs

Last night, the Museum of Fine Arts Houston opened a (to me) fascinating exhibition of the collection called "Houghton Hall: Portrait of an English Country House". This is the first stop for the collection before it heads off to San Francisco and Nashville.

Somewhere in the pre-opening hype, I made note of a couple references to Downton Abbey. Of course, I was in! Would I see splendid furnishings similar to the television show I devoured recently? What of the tea sets?

I should have done a little more research.

It wasn't Downton. Well, I take that back. It was the foundation on which Downton could have been set if I wasn't in such a hurry to put an electric toaster in the kitchen. (Faithful viewers will get that.) The Houghton Hall exhibit displays an amazing example of what wealth must have been like and might still be. For some.

Now, back to the collection:

Houghton Hall is the family estate of the Marquesses of Cholomondeley. It was built in the early 18th century by Sir Robert Walpole. The traveling exhibit does a fair job of placing you into and guiding you through rooms of the estate. (After seeing massive marble arches in England, I was slightly underwhelmed by the use of the wall panels to represent the marble and the library.)

Speaking of books, I swooned at a John Locke. There are tiny treasures to explore. Take your time. The preview was PACKED and I felt a little claustrophobic. Within the glass cases are stunning examples of porcelain but not so many that you'll be bored by them. Particularly interesting to me were the handwritten inventories of household items.

Not to be missed: The massive "The Knights and The Briar Rose" by Edward Burne-Jones. I felt a tug by the Burne-Jones. It was immediately familiar. What was it? My friend and I went back for a second view. It struck me that it has much in common with "Joan of Arc" by Jules Bastien-Lepage. I've learned that Burne-Jones and Bastien-Lepage attended the Royal Academies of Art in England and France, respectively, at almost the same time. I attempted to dive deeper into these two artists but did you know that when you start down a road with signs marked, "Avant-garde", you always end up at a Warhol soup can?

I suggest that you view the exhibit from front to back, saving the portrait gallery for last. The John Singer Sargents merit time to appreciate their fall-into-me beauty.

Houghton Hall: Portrait of an English Country House runs from June 22-September 21, 2014 at the Museum of Fine Arts, 1001 Bissonet, Houston, TX, 77005. Tickets are $15.00 Your ticket also provides entry to the museum's collections.



©Michelle Scofield, June 21, 2014, All Rights Reserved

D is for Docent

I moved from room to room, soaking up the bits of information he offered like the lemony, buttery sauce on a plate of perfectly roasted chicken.  If I took my time and savored the experience, I could break off a crust of bread and enjoy the small morsels - slowly, with determination.  I could delay looking at all the beautiful paintings hanging around me and focus on the few being discussed on the tour.

I was surprised to find that our tour was being led by a man.  I admit to having a preconceived notion of a Docent as an elderly woman wearing a navy blue blazer, mid-calf skirt, and Naturalizer shoes. He wore none of these.  He knew his Impressionists and he helped me to know them. 

For a little over an hour, he led our group of fifteen through the permanent collection at the Museum of Fine Arts Houston, giving us a mini-lesson on the beginnings of the movement and how to LOOK at one of the paintings to recognize the brush strokes, the placement of the subjects within the paintings, and the perspective of the artist. 

I was very happy that he focused on one of my favorites - Camille Pissarro.  My knowledge grew. That always makes a good day for me.

I also gained emotional insight into why the Impressionism period is my favorite.  As we moved past a Classical piece, I felt uncomfortable.  Too many rules.  

Docents don't have to be women. Painters don't have to be realists. I don't have to eat the main course.  I stayed only for the tour and saved that big bird on the platter for later.







©Michelle Scofield, January 4, 2014,  All Rights Reserved

Let's Run With this 1 Fine Day Thing

B is for bunch.  I'm determined to participate in social activities, to be part of a group.  Thankfully, I was called late yesterday afternoon and asked if I could be at the Houston Zoo last night to see the Zoo Lights.  Yes!  I had a great time walking through the pretty displays, listening to Christmas music (on January 1st), laughing, joking, in general being cracked up by 5 of the funniest guys I know.

Today is Thursday.  You know, the day before Friday, which is followed by Saturday.  Now that I'm not completely preoccupied by running (obsess much?), I don't have 3 and 4 hour blocks of time carved out for long runs on the weekends.  What to do?  Get out and participate in humanity!  I'm signed up for a members' talk at the Museum of Fine Arts Saturday morning.  Subject:  The Impressionists.  Love that!  And maybe I'll make some friends. 

I also received a birthday party invitation for Saturday night.  It's not a surprise party but I was surprised to get the invite.  Of COURSE I'm going.  :)

My goal for this year is to look for 1 fine thing in every day.  And to mix in the alphabet.  And to try to write regularly.  Wish me luck.

So far so good.
















©Michelle Scofield, January 2, 2014, All Rights Reserved

Heroes

3.02 miles 37:39 12:28 pace 5:30 pm 84 degrees


I'm watching a story on the news about a 23 y/o man who collapsed while running in the very park where I run. He suffered cardiac arrest and a couple driving by (saw him and) stopped. They performed CPR until the paramedic squad arrived. The guy spent several days in the hospital and now has an implanted pacemaker/defibrillator. He lived because somebody knew what to do and did it.

Damn.

That's about a million kinds of awesome.





©Michelle Scofield, October 15, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Extreme

3.07 miles 38:09 12:26 pace 5:30 pm 81 degrees

Extreme. That's what the weather guy says about the ragweed levels. I could have told you that. I've been achooing through the last 3 days. He said today is a tough one for runners - what with the rising temperature/humidity and the allergen levels. I think he should go as Captain Obvious for Halloween.

That's all I've got. I have to go find a Kleenex.

Happy Thursday.




©Michelle Scofield, October 10, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Last Run of The Week

5.04 miles 1:00:25 11:59 pace 7:15 am 81 degrees


The Hal Higdon Intermediate Marathon Training schedule suggests the long run take place on Sunday. I switched them out last week and this week due to weather last week and social plans this week. (I'm going to see "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" tonight. Fun!) Higdon's Novice schedule gave me 4 running days a week, not 5. This is certainly a step up and I'm feeling it. I'm going to do my best not to put the long run on Saturday again. It was psychologically tough to get up and run this morning after yesterday's challenge.

I did it anyway.

I'm glad it's done. And now I'm going to go have some oatmeal, almond milk, and an orange.

Happy Sunday. I hope you enjoy yours as much as I'm planning on enjoying mine.

An evening at the theatre with 2 of my favorite guys and about a bazillion sequins. What more can a girl ask for?



©Michelle Scofield, September 29, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Spin Through The Neighborhood

9.03 miles 2:00:55 13:23 pace 7:15 am 81 degrees

I thought it might take me 2 hours. This is the longest run for me since completing the Houston marathon last January. Yesterday, I mapped out my route and it felt daunting. I went to bed about 10:30 and hoped to sleep at least until after 6:00.

My internal alarm is set for 5:30. It works well. I'm not foolish enough to think I can run in my new neighborhood in the dark. I no longer live in the suburbs. I tried to go back to sleep, but nothing doing. I read for a little bit, then got up and ate half a bagel and drank a glass of water. Finally, my loft brightened with day breaking.

I made my way through the Museum District from Binz to Montrose then on to West Gray up to Shepherd back to Bissonette and down Montrose on the Rice trail. I crossed Main to Hermann Park, came around the golf course and made my way home.

Here's the thing about going through Montrose and River Oaks on a Saturday morning: Those neighborhoods are full of the aromas of bistros and donut shops.

Not to worry. I had my GU packet. Almost as good.

I had the other half of the bagel, took a shower, and a 2 hour nap.

I'm glad this run is out of the way. I have a 5 miler on the schedule for tomorrow.

Next week is not looking so tough. Runwise or workwise. Yay, me!





©Michelle Scofield, September 28, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Trucks

8.21 miles 1:46:00 9:10 am 72 degrees 12:55 pace

It rained (gently) the first 20 minutes of my run. I was prepared to face it and had decided to take most of it on pavement. My route today was: Almeda to Hermann, over to Binz/Bissonett, up to Ashby, across to the Rice trail. I ran around Rice, back to Bissonett, then over to Hermann Park, around the golf course, and home.

2 themes.

Puddles and Trucks.

I jumped over puddles. I ran around puddles. I did my best to avoid them. Some, I simply couldn't. Last night it rained like crazy in this neighborhood and it hasn't soaked in yet. The Rice path was a muddy mess.

I saw trucks I haven't noticed before. The one from Hotel Za Za that is a (what?) Hummer with longhorns on the front. I guess it's their limo. I think I'd take a cab. :)

I saw a double decker bus giving a tour of the museum district. It was a hop-on/hop-off number like they have by the thousands in London. I had no idea they were operating in Houston.

Some bubba had his pickup blocking the sidewalk in The Village. It was in front of one of those McMansions. Guess he hasn't gotten that far in his lessons about money buying class.

Rounding my last big curve at Hermann Park, I came upon a tree service truck spraying something from a massive tank onto standing water on the ground. I had a decision to make. The worker was gloved. I can't remember if he was masked. There was a little breeze. I was almost dead on my feet and if I turned around, I would add another mile to my run. I decided to sprint past him and hold my breath. A good way past him was an older couple with a little girl in a stroller. They were stopped and seemed to be discussing what to do. I stopped to talk to them. I told them I didn't know what he was spraying. They decided to turn around and go back the way they came. I'm really glad they did. Bone marrow is precious - as was their little girl. (Who knows if the stuff was hazardous to humans?)

Last truck. I arrived home and a food truck was parked in front of my place. The Waffle Truck. I stopped to talk to a couple of my neighbors who were sitting on the steps and enjoying lunch. It smelled wonderful. I happened to have my mini-credit card with me. (I carry it with me on long runs in case I need to stop and buy a bottle of water.) So...I had a waffle and chicken sandwich. Yummo!

I took a hot bath with epson salts. I took a nap.

And now, I'll see what else Saturday has to offer.

Happy Weekend!


©Michelle Scofield, September 21, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Saturday Check List

8:50am 3.02miles  34:30 minutes 11:25 pace  82 degrees and steamy.

I woke to the sound of rain against the glass wall of windows protected by my upstairs neighbor's balcony.  My loft faces south and in the month since I moved in, I've never seen a drop of rain on my windows.  I've been able to stand on my own balcony and enjoy thunderstorms. 

I wonder if the Gulf of Mexico is waking up.

After checking out the soaked park across the street, I crawled back into bed and tried to go back to sleep.  No luck.  Giving up, I read a little and then caught up on some email, blah, blah, blah.

The rain broke and I got in my 3 miles.  Friends, it's taking a lot to be out there when it's this freaking humid. 

I'm glad I kept my promise to myself.  I've been making a few of those lately.  They include: 

Getting my eyes checked.  Done.  I was worried that my difficulty in controlling my blood pressure might be causing some damage to the tiny vessels at the back of my eyes.  So far, the exam doesn't show that to be the case.  Yay!  I have a new prescription in hand and I'm going to try to find some new prescription sunglasses today.  I like the Oakley wraps an awful lot but I'm not going to spend a car payment.  We'll see...

Cook more at home and eat at restaurants less.  Done.  Houston has some great restaurant choices BUT after driving home in rush hour traffic, all I want to do is relax and enjoy a healthy meal.  My kitchen has super appliances and an excellent workspace.  I've got so many grocers to choose from.  Since moving back I've been to Trader Joes, Central Market, and Fresh Market.  On my lunch hour I can run into Krogers for staples.

Spend more time with friends.  Done.  Soul-filling done.

Schedule one massage a month.  Not done yet.


The commute gives me time to think and I guess that's where my latest list of to-do's has been developing.  Concrete goals mingle with ethereal ideas.  I'm not going out to eat as often, so should I put an extra hundred bucks in my retirement account each month or should I scrap the entire banking concept and put the money under my mattress?  I'm working longer hours and driving more.  Is a massage a physical need for a runner, a psychological need for an Oncology clinician, or am I just someone who loves a great backrub? 


 



©Michelle Scofield, July 27, 2013 All Rights Reserved

Like Rain

8:30am  81 degrees  3.02 miles  35:36  11:48 pace 

Back to Hermann Park this morning.  To say I'm happy with this move is such an understatement but I'll say it again.  I'm happy.

Last night I met up with friends for a free concert at Miller Outdoor Theatre.  We sat on our blankets and enjoyed the music of the band War.  (A little research tells me that there have been a few disputes about who is War and what constitutes a band when the original members aren't still playing, etc, etc...)  Anyway...they still sounded like the War I remember as a kid.  And I mean as a kid, like 12.

Above all else, I am a fan of funk.

Laying on that blanket last night, the haze and smog of the city blocking out all but the most stubborn of stars, I was taken back to Riverside Park in Wichita, Kansas.  I can remember seeing big gatherings taking place.  Some families seemed to have all the fun.  There were lots of kids running around, several picnic tables pulled together, and music.  LOUD music.  It was like a magnet.  And I was always physically pulled in a wide arc away from those gatherings. Big crowds at Riverside Park in the late 60's could turn dangerous very quickly.  At least that was what I was told.  But that music...

And the bowling alley.  Crestview Lanes had a grill that wasn't a restaurant, it was a bar.  My mom was assistant manager at Crestview.  She was also a single mom.  Where do you think I spent many Friday and Saturday nights?  The music floated out of the grill onto the lanes and I practiced more than one dance move with other kids who had parents who seemed to live at the bowling alley. 

My earliest 8-track and vinyl collection wasn't sophistocated enough to rebel in the direction I would eventually land.  I had a lot of Elton John and Jim Croce. That's what a straight-A, responsible white girl did.  She bought what her friends bought. Then I moved across town and...
 
...I had a completely irresponsible neighbor named Walter.  He was a year older than me and he, in turn, had an even wilder, older sister.  Neither went to school on a regular basis.  Both spent hour upon hour in their basement in a haze of smoke and music.  And I loved hanging out at their house.  My perception was that their parents had given up any hopes of them graduating and were simply trying to keep them from getting arrested.  As long as they were home and not on the streets, anything was okay.  These two had all the food, drink, air conditioning, and music they wanted during summers off.  Their house was full of long-haired, pot-smoking, peace-loving deadbeats.  Peripherally, I was a fascinated hanger-on and they allowed it.

Jimi Hendrix, War, Deep Purple, David Bowie, Rufus, James Brown. 

Hours of the stuff.

Last night, thousands of people sat on a hill and the funk fell on us like rain we'd been thirsting for.  And we grooved together.

"The World is a Ghetto"

"Cisco Kid"

"Low Rider"

"Why Can't We Be Friends?"

Indeed. 




©Michelle Scofield, July 7, 2013 All Rights Reserved

The Park

7:45am  82 degrees 3.27 miles  38:25  11:45 pace

  

No physical pain with my run this morning.

Much to see along the way.

The tiny train wasn't running yet.  The zoo isn't open until later this morning.  4 lady geese stood next to the tracks.  They seemed to be waiting for a ride.

Just past the fountains, an ancient man in white pants and belted robe silently practiced tai chi sending two massive red fans through swirls and sworls as a chiseled young man sat on a stone bench near him.  His head was bowed in what...meditation?  anguish?  sleep?  prayer?   

The Park People were rising from their nests.  I'm starting to recognize some of them.

I wonder if any of them can achieve real rest out there.  In the open. In this heat. 





©Michelle Scofield, July 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved

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