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
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Progress - or something along those lines.
3.02 10:57 pace 33:03 minutes 5:15 am
I sat in the endodontist's chair for another hour and a half yesterday afternoon. At the end, she cheerily said, "Your root canal is done. I want you to see your regular dentist within 2 weeks for the permanent filling, or a replacement crown, whichever he thinks is best." I hope he thinks it's just a permanent filling. I'm about at my limit of gutting this dental thing out.
You know that old saying, "I'd rather have a root canal"?
I'd rather have a head to toe MRI. With the room on fire. With ants nibbling at my elbows. With Pearl Jam on the overhead sound system. Loud.
Yeah, that's how I've come to feel about dental visits.
Me. The one who flosses daily and brushes after every meal and at bedtime.
It's about control. I know this. When I'm in the dental chair, I can't see what's going on, I can't talk, I can't even control my own drool. I'm myself imagined in 40 years.
So, anyway. I only have to have the work finished off and then I'm good for another 6 months. Fingers crossed.
I spent a little time in counseling last week and discussed control issues. I continue to give over that which is not mine. It's been a good several days for that.
Boston, Mass.
West, TX.
Life.
Have as good a day as life allows and you accept, my friends. Much love to you. M
©Michelle Scofield, April 23, 2013 All Rights Reserved
I sat in the endodontist's chair for another hour and a half yesterday afternoon. At the end, she cheerily said, "Your root canal is done. I want you to see your regular dentist within 2 weeks for the permanent filling, or a replacement crown, whichever he thinks is best." I hope he thinks it's just a permanent filling. I'm about at my limit of gutting this dental thing out.
You know that old saying, "I'd rather have a root canal"?
I'd rather have a head to toe MRI. With the room on fire. With ants nibbling at my elbows. With Pearl Jam on the overhead sound system. Loud.
Yeah, that's how I've come to feel about dental visits.
Me. The one who flosses daily and brushes after every meal and at bedtime.
It's about control. I know this. When I'm in the dental chair, I can't see what's going on, I can't talk, I can't even control my own drool. I'm myself imagined in 40 years.
So, anyway. I only have to have the work finished off and then I'm good for another 6 months. Fingers crossed.
I spent a little time in counseling last week and discussed control issues. I continue to give over that which is not mine. It's been a good several days for that.
Boston, Mass.
West, TX.
Life.
Have as good a day as life allows and you accept, my friends. Much love to you. M
©Michelle Scofield, April 23, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Threads
9.02 miles 1:45:53 11:44 pace
This is going to be one of those, "She's thinking out loud things." Bear with me.
It was super-nice of the bartender at Houston's to comp me my salad last night. I dropped in after an event, thinking I'd grab something to eat and possibly a glass of wine. I sipped my wine (Chardonnay? What was I thinking?), making it last for an hour and still - no grilled chicken salad. It was pleasant enough just hanging out and people-watching. (A couple next to me was pretty hilarious. She engaged me in conversation and we laughed about our love of Real Housewives television.) Anyway...soon enough, Josh The Bartender realized I was probably starving and checked on progress from the kitchen. What could have been an expensive, delicious salad turned out to be an expensive, free salad.
The event? Houston Modern Market at Winter Street. I was invited to ogle the beautiful furniture and artwork. I did. I also met up with oodles of friends which always lifts my spirits. I caught a fun fashion show featuring "Stop Staring" dresses, of which I've been a fan for a few years.
This is all distraction from the horrible news which has been playing out on every live-feed monitor within sight for the last few days. Yesterday morning, I was met with less than enthusiasm when my frontal inhibition gave way to, "I'd rather not be watching when a cop is shot" as I declined to sit with the gang and view the manhunt unfold. I can be such a Blurt sometimes. (A Blurt is someone who tells it like it is and won't take it back.)
Last night I had a great conversation with a friend of a friend. We'd just met. I have no problem letting my Blurt out among this group of people. Miles Davis has been credited with saying, "Fear no mistakes. There are none." I doubt he was the first to say that. The thing is, when I'm around some artists, I feel as if I'm around some of the most open, vulnerable, and welcoming people. That allows me to be the same and some of the dialogue is simply fantastic. Back to the conversation. We talked about how we were moving on in the face of the latest tragedies and it was a continuum of moving on since 9/11. We talked about the fears that we felt/feel and how we are attempting to stand up to them and also about standing up to outside pressures to isolate ourselves from perceived bogeymen. What amazed me the most about this man was that he was born and raised in Boston. His sense of grace was overwhelming. And calming. And reassuring.
So...moving on. I'm in training for a Half Marathon. I've entered a sanctioned 10K race that I'll run in 2 weeks. The Green 6.2. I'll drive over and pick up my packet today. I'm not going to stop running in big races. I wouldn't dream of it.
I'm more dedicated than ever to doing a great job at work. I'm working on a huge project for Cancer Survivors and am waiting to hear if I've been granted a fellowship that will allow me to travel to Canada for further training. Get it or not, the program will go on and I look forward to presenting much of my work to my colleagues soon.
This is a fine, fine thread upon which we walk. Some days I take a chance and I run along it's course which is stronger than I think and I'm surprised at how much latitude I'm given.
Being a witness to the breaks in the threads of others is something that shouldn't surprise me but it does. Every time. Our collective web was weakened this week. As I ramble through this entry, perhaps being out last night wasn't so much distraction, but an attempt to build. I'm not sure.
That's the one thing I know with certainty today. I'm not sure.
©Michelle Scofield, April 20, 2013 All Rights Reserved
This is going to be one of those, "She's thinking out loud things." Bear with me.
It was super-nice of the bartender at Houston's to comp me my salad last night. I dropped in after an event, thinking I'd grab something to eat and possibly a glass of wine. I sipped my wine (Chardonnay? What was I thinking?), making it last for an hour and still - no grilled chicken salad. It was pleasant enough just hanging out and people-watching. (A couple next to me was pretty hilarious. She engaged me in conversation and we laughed about our love of Real Housewives television.) Anyway...soon enough, Josh The Bartender realized I was probably starving and checked on progress from the kitchen. What could have been an expensive, delicious salad turned out to be an expensive, free salad.
The event? Houston Modern Market at Winter Street. I was invited to ogle the beautiful furniture and artwork. I did. I also met up with oodles of friends which always lifts my spirits. I caught a fun fashion show featuring "Stop Staring" dresses, of which I've been a fan for a few years.
This is all distraction from the horrible news which has been playing out on every live-feed monitor within sight for the last few days. Yesterday morning, I was met with less than enthusiasm when my frontal inhibition gave way to, "I'd rather not be watching when a cop is shot" as I declined to sit with the gang and view the manhunt unfold. I can be such a Blurt sometimes. (A Blurt is someone who tells it like it is and won't take it back.)
Last night I had a great conversation with a friend of a friend. We'd just met. I have no problem letting my Blurt out among this group of people. Miles Davis has been credited with saying, "Fear no mistakes. There are none." I doubt he was the first to say that. The thing is, when I'm around some artists, I feel as if I'm around some of the most open, vulnerable, and welcoming people. That allows me to be the same and some of the dialogue is simply fantastic. Back to the conversation. We talked about how we were moving on in the face of the latest tragedies and it was a continuum of moving on since 9/11. We talked about the fears that we felt/feel and how we are attempting to stand up to them and also about standing up to outside pressures to isolate ourselves from perceived bogeymen. What amazed me the most about this man was that he was born and raised in Boston. His sense of grace was overwhelming. And calming. And reassuring.
So...moving on. I'm in training for a Half Marathon. I've entered a sanctioned 10K race that I'll run in 2 weeks. The Green 6.2. I'll drive over and pick up my packet today. I'm not going to stop running in big races. I wouldn't dream of it.
I'm more dedicated than ever to doing a great job at work. I'm working on a huge project for Cancer Survivors and am waiting to hear if I've been granted a fellowship that will allow me to travel to Canada for further training. Get it or not, the program will go on and I look forward to presenting much of my work to my colleagues soon.
This is a fine, fine thread upon which we walk. Some days I take a chance and I run along it's course which is stronger than I think and I'm surprised at how much latitude I'm given.
Being a witness to the breaks in the threads of others is something that shouldn't surprise me but it does. Every time. Our collective web was weakened this week. As I ramble through this entry, perhaps being out last night wasn't so much distraction, but an attempt to build. I'm not sure.
That's the one thing I know with certainty today. I'm not sure.
©Michelle Scofield, April 20, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
(This Life is ) Not Such a Solo Sport
3.12 miles 35.07 11:15 pace 5:30am
The run felt sorrowful and heavy.
I felt alone. I didn't see another runner on my route.
My gut tells me that there were (or will be) tens of thousands of runners lacing up today...
...because.
Others have said it more eloquently than can I.
I had to run.
©Michelle Scofield, April 16, 2013 All Rights Reserved
The run felt sorrowful and heavy.
I felt alone. I didn't see another runner on my route.
My gut tells me that there were (or will be) tens of thousands of runners lacing up today...
...because.
Others have said it more eloquently than can I.
I had to run.
©Michelle Scofield, April 16, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Moving
3.1 miles 33:11 10:42pace 5:30am Humidity: Dripping
Upside? Very little traffic this morning and there was a coolish breeze. I'm still wiped out and didn't sleep great last night but I figured I'd get the run in while I had quasi-motivation to do so. It will be a desk day (barring any inpatient consults) and sitting around doing paperwork doesn't exactly give me energy. It makes me sore and grumpy. Running prior to work is much more likely to improve my all-around physical and mental disposition than sitting around and thinking about an afternoon or evening run.
I'm thinking, thinking, thinking. I need to find a new place to live.
If anyone knows of a wonderful inner loop townhome or house up for lease in Houston, shoot me a note. I need some city life. And a garage. With a kitchen. And built in friends who love art, dancing, and tequila - that wouldn't hurt one little bit.
©Michelle Scofield, April 9, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Upside? Very little traffic this morning and there was a coolish breeze. I'm still wiped out and didn't sleep great last night but I figured I'd get the run in while I had quasi-motivation to do so. It will be a desk day (barring any inpatient consults) and sitting around doing paperwork doesn't exactly give me energy. It makes me sore and grumpy. Running prior to work is much more likely to improve my all-around physical and mental disposition than sitting around and thinking about an afternoon or evening run.
I'm thinking, thinking, thinking. I need to find a new place to live.
If anyone knows of a wonderful inner loop townhome or house up for lease in Houston, shoot me a note. I need some city life. And a garage. With a kitchen. And built in friends who love art, dancing, and tequila - that wouldn't hurt one little bit.
©Michelle Scofield, April 9, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
