Pep talk

My blog is my way of seeing my feelings. When I try to tell people, explain somehow I trip up to find the right words. I like writing so it could just be that. I like finding a nice way to tell a simple story or express a simple thought. There is a small hope of course that someday it will be read, and maybe even inspire or help. Overall though it is mostly a self focused activity. Writing down the feelings of the day or the moment. Contemplating my surroundings. Thinking about stuff "out loud". And sometimes the act of writing down how I feel, inspires me. Taking stock refreshes my perspective. So today I write, because I need a pep talk. I feel empty. Uninspired. A little worn down and tired. I have a pile of work to do, and yet I am totally unproductive - something I am not known for. I am a hard worker. Any boss would be happy to have me. I go the extra mile and have high standards for myself and my work. Yet, here I am unfocused, restless, uninspired.  Staring at my screen - blankly. Maybe I have Friday fever, maybe I am just getting older and life's stresses do not roll of my back as easily anymore. Does it eventually happen to us all? Did I just become less adaptable as the years passed by? I worry that this is more than just "a bad day". I worry about permanently feeling worried. I worry about everything. I think I have always been a bit of a worry wort. Being the eldest child I have always had a weird sense of responsibility. But I think getting older is the issue at hand; and I cannot detach myself from the worrying like I used to. As a result, even the little things are getting to me. So I fumble and end up feeling worse about my moodiness and general grumpiness.  I end up worrying about worrying.

And now that I have admitted this? Back to the drawing board. I don't think all of this is just a simple straight shooter of "I am getting old". The cocktail I am sipping is a complex mix of real trouble and a dash of melancholy for simpler times. My physical, emotional and mental capacity are stretched thin and this won't change overnight. My plan is simple. Admit I had the cocktail and sober up. Keep up the fitness, lose the weight (4.4 kg down already) and re-focus on short term goals. Big stuff like re-thinking my career path will have to be dealt with, but right now there are not many options and it's perhaps not as time sensitive as it feels. I have some time to think. Think, but less worrying. Thinking with less grumpy.

There is no truth

This past week has brought up all the feelings I had when the Lance Armstrong story broke many months ago. I felt let down, betrayed and just plain disappointed. I know it is wrong of society (me included) to make these mere mortals into superstars. Superstars that will inevitably let us down or disappoint us. But we fall in the trap over and over again. Thinking, hey this guy must be wonderful, he fought cancer, or overcame a disability...
Lance's deceit ruined an entire sport for me. An avid Tour de France couch supporter, I shouted support up those mountains and during the Olympics we cried with joy when Oscar was allowed to run. Both men overcame so much to achieve their dreams. Lance and Oscar both seemed to be good causes.
And now we have this mess - tragic and beyond fixing. Even if Oscar's super-legal team can cast enough doubt and get him off, nobody will ever be sure and of course no way will the truth ever be presented. All the spin in the world cannot fix this however. In a way, his money, his contacts, his reputation will always count against him, but this is not the point. It is just sad. A tragedy, forever.
How much did we contribute to this? As society we repeatedly fall in the trap and expect these talented people to be role models, to be perfect, to be kind, to be healthy, balance and honest personalities - just because of their achievements. It is a flawed premise and yet here we are. People are picking sides and making comments and judgements. A girl is dead. No matter what follows, there will be some reckoning for this. A girl is dead, a young man's life is ruined, two families will struggle with this for the rest of their lives and we sit on the sidelines commenting and judging. Would this have happened if society hadn't adored these people for being fast and beautiful? Who knows, but I fear this cycle seems to perpetuate. When fame and money is in the mix it seems there is no truth. Don't we still al believe OJ got away with murdering his ex-wife?

Canon-day

My new camera arrived Saturday and...I took a picture with my iPad to capture the moment. Ironic, isn't it?
I've wanted to invest in a good camera for years, and finally decided it is time. So I took a few photos of the puppies and the cats :-) Yes, very exciting! Well I tell myself, I have to start somewhere. The buttons, the options are so amazing. Nerd-girl that I am all of this is of course intrigueing, but I am going to hunt for a photography course, because my camera is so fancy I feel slightly overwhelmed.
In the meantime, a few frivolous pics of the furry-ones will keep me occupied.

The Wooden Spoon

I am not a blessed athlete. I am blessed that I am healthy and capable enough to run, but ability or talent is not overflowing from my running cup. Sometimes during a race or training run, my much faster, taller, male running partner will say something like "I really feel like pushing and hurting a bit" and he speeds off into the distance. And even though I support him fully, it's tough to be the wooden spoon. So. I plod along after him, pushing as fast as I can, whilst quickly running (pardon the pun) into my limits. Panting furiously, burning, sweating and hurting I am the little engine that could not keep up the pace. Sadly. And this is not a chat about speed training or Fartleks or anything related to optimising my speed. Those things we do and talk about peripherally but the reality is that most of us, the weekend warriors, do not optimise, we train to do the job. We train to survive. I am talking about a feeling of inferiority or loss that once you verbalise it is better described as being humbled by your own physical limitations. I realise on some level that running is not really about time, even though we measure everything in time. Running is about attitude. Dealing with ones own failings, the injuries, ageing and lack of talent, is actually how we get better at it. There is of course some rewards as you train more and more but even when I am fit as fiddle there is always somebody that is "in better shape" or younger or faster or...or...or... Remembering that the how well I do, is not the same as doing well takes a bit of introspection, usually overdue :-) Maybe it's ego or competitiveness but it is hard lagging behind. Yesterday afternoon's training run was one of those runs where my partner and I was out of sync. He needed a sprint or a hard run having missed our 8 km training run on Tuesday. So on our way back from a quick 4 km, he sprinted away from me to "feel the burn". I had two choices, I could relax and gently jog back home or I could push equally hard and see how long I can keep it up. Not keeping up, but keep it up. I pushed hard. Competing against the gap between us and my own breath. 

Accepting my own physical limitations and as always running provides. Even though I still got the wooden spoon, I found a way to feel competitive. Perhaps running is all about realising that the spoon is not really there!