madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 8/9/01 I wanted to write yesterday, but I�m actually had to much work to do! I don�t know if I�ve mentioned this, but I�m doing a 5-mile cancer walk on Sunday with some ladies that work in a different department than me. It should be interesting - considering I don�t know them, but what the hell. Its for a good cause, right!? Plus, it will shag my ass out of bed at 6:00am on a Sunday (which is unheard of!!) and I�ll have all my exercise done for the day by 9:30am. I think the reason I didn�t mention this, is because I felt ashamed of myself. I had plans to actually �train� for this walk. It was a small goal I set for myself, to walk 5-miles 4 times a week until the date of the walk. But every morning that I fell short, I felt worse and worse about it. Until a few days ago I even thought of calling the ladies and telling them to count me out. The stupid part is, that I know I don�t really have to train for it. But because it was such a small goal that I set for myself, and I couldn�t make myself reach it, I just felt like a total loser. Then two nights ago, after not exercising at all that day, I had a moment of clarity. It was a hot August day, and the evening had simmered into a powerful, blustery wind that swept my willow tree across the sky. It was ten o�clock, and I paced my apartment with agitation. I was angry and frustrated. How could I be this depressed again when I had literally changed the course of my existence over the last 8 months? I thought that part of had died, and was gone forever. Would I be forced to endure this sorrow for the rest of my pitiful life? I turned off the lights in my living room, intent on simply going to bed. With sleep being my only reprieve from sadness, I looked forward to the end of each day. The moonlight fell across my arms, and I sat down in the quiet darkness. The air inside was still and heavy, yet I could hear the torrent of wind whipping through the branches outside. Why am I doing this to myself?, I thought. The room answered with silence and the occasional tick-ticking sound of the blinds against the open window. My stomach felt empty, even though I had finished a big meal just over an hour ago. I wanted something sweet, something comforting. My attention shifted towards the kitchen, and I imagined the contents of my cupboards. My mind�s eye scanned for anything satisfying, anything remotely sugary or dessert-like. Let�s see....Aborio rice, polenta, pasta galore, canned beans, whole-wheat cereals, oatmeal, green chilies and chipotle peppers, soup, a jar of fat-free mayonaise, flour, turbinado sugar, golden raisins, rice wine & balsamic vinegar, sesame oil, olive oil, Asian fish sauce, a pepper mill and various spices and herbs. Nothing. My mind�s eye traveled to the fridge where I moved milk cartons aside to check for a slice of peach pie that might�ve somehow found its way there. I opened the freezer hoping for a lonely carton of Haggen Daz that may have been magically transported there from the ice-cream fairy. The reality leaned more towards ice-dusted chicken breasts and a few frozen dinners. I slammed the doors shut, disappointed. I looked at the clock, 10:04pm. Blink. Blink. Blink The clock switched to 10:05pm....time was crawling like molasses. Another crappy day, in a string of crappy days, was about to come to an end. And there I was, sitting on the couch in the dark, feeling sorry for myself. Why didn�t the phone ever ring with a friend on the other line - ready to go to a movie or have a cocktail? I know I had friends, where the fuck were they? And why the fuck didn�t they ever call to include me in their reindeer games? Why did I spend my whole weekends cleaning the house to perfection, running errands, and worrying about my weigh-in instead of having fun? This is ridiculous, I thought. I could sit here all night thinking of reasons why my life sucks. Then the moon suddenly shifted and a beam of light fell across the windowsill, the wood floor, and over my leg. My eyes traced its illumination from glass to skin. The light on my leg created a shadow, exaggerating the definition of my new muscle. And there it was - the proof. Muscle definition - a word never before used when describing myself - was evidence of my efforts. That muscle was the proof that I had made changes, that I wasn�t a weak, sorrowful person. I bent over and ran my hand down my knee and around to my calf and squeezed. I flexed & pointed my toe. I sat back into the couch. In the dim room, the light of the moon highlighted two things; a white cotton shirt folded on the coffee table, and my tennis shoes across the room in a corner. The shoes sat there glum, obviously sullen from my unusual absence today. I glanced at the clock, 10:09pm. I turned my gaze back to those lonely shoes.... What the hell. I crossed the room, put on my shoes, donned my headphones and blasted out the front door. I flew down the stairs of my apartment building and hit the pavement with a powerful stride. The wind swirled around me in hefty gusts, like feather hands driving me forward. And I walked, and walked and walked. The moonlight was my North star, and I followed it. I followed it across main streets, through parks on walkways, down paths, over grass and concrete. I followed it to meet neighborhood cats, to a Coke can which I kicked for a good 4 blocks, and a rusty merry-go-round in a school yard which groaned under my weight but carried me for a few rotations anyway. I followed it until my legs ached, my hips burned, and sweat trickled into my eyes. Then I turned for home. The front door squeaked as I entered, but the house was quiet. The clock blinked 11:11pm. I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my clothes, and collapsed into the comfort of my bed. My whole body buzzed, twitching with muscles active and full of blood. I felt ALIVE. I felt good for the first time in weeks. I couldn�t help but smile a little before drifting off into the deepest sleep I�d had in weeks. There is something magical about exercise, something that I�ve never understood before. I truly believe that getting out there and forcing my body to move aided in some kind of emotional release for me. The endorphin rush filled my mind and body with good-feeling chemicals that even my stubborn depression couldn�t extinguish. The benefits of exercise are amazing. Our bodies are made to move, so move it. 12:39 p.m. - 8/9/01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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