Getting Back

I've spent most of the last year convincing myself that I've been too busy to write, too busy to do anything other than just hunker down and survive the overwhelming day to day. Part of that feeling is because blogging isn't just writing- there is a whole social component that goes along with it. And I'm not sure I'm ready to jump into that.

What I do know is that I must start writing again. No necessarily to be read, to be shared, to be commented on, but just to start creating again. Getting back to having something tangible come from my thoughts. Along that same line, I'm hoping to start painting and editing photos again. I've been stifling my creative side for the sake of to-do lists, and it's been unhealthy.

This last year has brought a lot of change. Sometimes, I look at myself and think that the me of even just two years ago would be surprised.

I've started running in earnest. I've run two half marathons this year. I've started trail running. I've gotten over the anxiety of being slow and feel like I can actually call myself a runner.

I've fallen in love with home gardening. My gardening technique is "plant and pray," because I had no real plan or understanding of gardening. Fortunately, my unjustifiable optimism in the spring translated to bountiful harvests nearly all summer.

As a family, we've continued to road trip, to deserts and forests and bright blue lakes.

Bug is nearly as tall as I am.

I would love to say that as a family, we are settling in well with all the changes the last year and a half as brought. But that wouldn't be true. We're struggling getting a social network set up. My boys are struggling making friends. We still feel overwhelmed by the size and scope of being in a bigger city.

So we keep to what works for us, what makes us feel grounded. Dinner times as a family. Long walks in nature.

And for me, getting back to writing.

Currently: Spring Edition

Current Book

I'm trying to do a better job of actually reading. I completely book binged after I finished all of my board exams last year, but haven't read much for the last several months. 

I've taken some friends' recommendations and am reading Liane Moriarty. Big Little Lies was the only one available at the Library, but I want to read them all. I'm only a quarter of the way through the book, but so intrigued.



Current Drink

Water. I've started keeping track of how much water I'm drinking, and it is not nearly enough. So now, I'm pretty much exclusively a water drinker, with cucumber, lime, or lemon slices added. Except on weekend nights. Then I shake it up with a gin cocktail. I'm kind of obsessed with gin lately.

Current Song

"Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon
"Black Sun" by Death Cab for Cutie

Also, I'm counting "Shake It Off" by Taylor Swift, because I sing this at my boys every time they get upset. Which may or may not help.

Current Wish List

I want to be done with this move. I want our movers settled. I want our home financing to go through. I want the packing to be done. I want to just get settled and be done with this.

Current Needs

Oh, a couple million dollars would be nice.

Current TV Shows

I have completely caught up on Game of Thrones and love it. And by love it, I mean get so anxious during each episode, I have a hard time watching.



We are also watching Outlander, which I just can't help but love.

 

Bug and I watch Doctor Who together. And we've started watching The Wonder Years as a family.

Current Movies

I have watched several movies lately, and been so disappointed. I don't have enough time to watch bad movies! I usually use Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB to screen out really awful ones, and try to only watch highly rated and well reviewed movies.  But Noah was terrible.  John Wick was awful. Elysium was too uncomfortable and upsetting. I just haven't been able to pick anything good lately.

Current Outfit

Hospital issued maroon scrubs. Compression stockings and New Balance shoes. I'm rocking fashion lately.

Current Indulgences

Time on Facebook. I've joined a couple medical groups and I'm just obsessed with reading about people's interesting cases and practices.

Current Excitement

I'm planning our summer road trip and am so excited to take my family to see brand new things.

Current Mood

Tired, slightly stressed, with a touch of apathy.

Getting Fit(Bit)

I've mentioned in the past that I've struggled with my self image. Like so many other women, I've looked in the mirror and stood on the scale and been incredibly dissatisfied with what I saw.

I started running a couple years ago, and fell in love with it (which is something I definitely thought I would never say.) I started with Couch to 5K followed by Couch to 10K. Last fall, I ran my first 10K. Physically, it was one of the harder things I've ever done. Mentally, it was amazing! (Although based on how hard it was for me, it made me seriously rethink my life goals of running a half or full marathon.)

As much as I loved running, I always did feel a little discouraged that I didn't lose any weight.  Not a single pound. I felt like I was putting in all those miles to just barely maintain where I was. I told myself that the number on the scale and the size of my jeans didn't matter (because it honestly doesn't). I told myself that I was in better shape than I had been in years. My resting heart rate was lower. My stamina and energy were better.  I could keep up with my boys (and sometimes even out do them). Those were the things that really mattered.

But still, never seeing the number on the scale change was discouraging. Before having children, I was extremely thin, sometimes bordering on underweight. Pregnancy changed my body in ways I never anticipated. My metabolism ground to a screeching halt. I never regained my pre-pregnancy size, hanging on to 20 plus pounds with each pregnancy. My BMI went from normal to overweight. The last couple years, my BMI hovered just under obese. I was trying to eat healthy and exercise regularly, and just felt that I wasn't getting the results I had hoped.

My family has always been very supportive of my attempts to be healthy (and I always try to keep the conversations about being healthier, not about being skinnier and losing weight or feeling fat.) For my birthday this year, Hubster bought me a FitBit Charge HR. 

I'm sure most of you know about FitBit. It's a super fancy pedometer. The Charge HR also counts stairs, calories, and continuously measures heart rate. It also keeps track of sleep.  After a few days, I realized that in between my runs, I wasn't being nearly as active as I thought I was. So I started walking into work each day, instead of riding the shuttle from the parking lot. I started taking the stairs everywhere. I haven't been in an elevator since I started wearing the FitBit. It's motivated me to take more walks, run around the back yard with my boys, take extra laps around the operating rooms at work, and do whatever it takes to get my 10,000 steps and 10 flights of stairs each day.   It also has really helped motivate me to not skip my runs. I love those days when I get my steps in by 10 am, and everything else is bonus!

Also, being able to connect with other FitBit wearers and add that competitive edge has helped as well.

My resting heart rate, which was already fairly good, has gotten better, going from 65-68 to 60-62.

After talking to some friends, I also decided to try the app MyFitnessPal, to do some calorie counting. It was enlightening. And by enlightening, I mean a shock, slap in the face type of enlightening.

I felt like I was eating pretty healthy. And I was. I was just eating about double what I should. I remember the first two days of counting calories, and I was shocked by how much I was eating. I never felt like I was over eating, I never felt stuffed after meals, and I was eating fewer servings than the rest of my family. But for me, it was still over eating. Once I realized that, it was very easy to cut back. I still have pizza and ice cream and candy and bacon. But I just eat one slice of pizza and just one actually serving size of ice cream. I reach towards healthy, more protein based snacks. I'm not eating a specialized diet, I'm eating what the rest of my family is. I'm just eating a more appropriate amount.

The calorie counting was hard at first, but it's gotten so easy now (especially since I've added our favorite recipes to MyFitnessPal.) There are days when I go over, but most days I have a good feel for how much I can eat. By deciding to not eat off the plate of cookies at work, it means I can have a cocktail with Hubster that evening while we watch Outlander.

Between these two things, I'm not just feeling great, I'm losing weight. For the first time in years, I'm actually seeing the number on the scale drop. There is no more jumping up and down to get my jeans on.

So far, I'm down 10 pounds. My BMI has dropped two points, headed back towards a normal, healthy BMI.

I know it's not just about the numbers. There are so many reasons to take care of ourselves, to eat healthy and exercise regularly. But it's so nice to get that reward for taking care of myself.

Now, I just have to figure out what to do about my sleep. I've always known that I haven't slept well, and now I have the FitBit to prove it.

Curly Locks

As part of simplifying and de-stressing my life, I've decided to work on accepting my hair in its natural state.

My hair is naturally wavy/curly/very poofy.  I've always felt I would have had awesome 80s pop music hair, but unfortunately, by the time I was worried about fashion, the 80s were over. 

For the longest time, all I wanted was smooth, flowing, shiny, straight hair. I've spent most of my life fighting the waves and curls. I blow dried and flat ironed my hair daily for years. I spent ridiculous amounts of money on straightening products. I looked into salon treatments to chemically straighten my hair. In junior high, I literally ironed my hair, with an actual clothes iron. (Doing that by yourself is actually incredibly difficult, and I highly don't recommend trying, for reasons other than the complete obvious of not using a regular iron on your hair.)

As I got busier and busier, I had less and less time to spend fighting my curls. Gone were the mornings I could spend, meticulously dividing my hair into segments and running the flat iron repeatedly over each one.  My solution was to just wear my hair up, which is what I did most of residency.

Recently, I decided that I'm done fighting my hair. I'm ready to embrace it for what it naturally wants to do.

A couple years ago, I found a hair stylist that I really like. At my last hair cut, I told her I was ready to embrace my hair in all its wild glory. So she did a cut that would allow my curls to shine.

(This is also the point where I should confess that I am awful at maintaining hair cuts. It is all I can do to get in about twice a year to get my hair cut. I wait until my bangs are covering my entire face and then reluctantly admit that I really should get it cut again.)

Now, my hair routine consists washing my hair at night, combing through it with my fingers, working in a little mousse, then going to bed with wet hair.

This is what I wake up to.

This is my hair in its (nearly) natural state. I call it my "I just don't give a crap anymore" hair style. There is no more hours spent attempting to tame my mane on a daily basis.

Although, with my current cut, it's fairly easy to wear it straight, should I feel like it. I save that for special occasions, like date night or Thursdays. 

I was so nervous about starting to wear my hair curly. I was worried it would look unkempt or unprofessional. And maybe it does. But the response has been very positive. Which is good, because with how easy it is to do my hair now, there is no way I can go back.

Dear Seventeen Year Old Me

Hey there, 17 year old me.  

I was getting the kids out of the minivan in the Target parking lot, and I suddenly thought about you. All three boys were yelling and running around.I was holding on very tightly to the arm of the two year old to keep him from jumping in front of a passing car. He then looked up at me with a big smile and asked in his little baby voice for a swing. Hubster and I held him by the arm pits and swung him. As he squealed in happiness, we looked at each other and smiled.

And then I thought of you, all those years ago. You, never even imagining that this is where you will eventually end up. Slightly overweight, driving a minivan full of boys, living in Iowa. None of those things are on your radar.

I know that you think you will have girls. I remember that little box filled with baby dresses (where did you get those from again?) and color schemes for a fairy-themed nursery and a couple of girl names all picked out. I know that your future plans for your children include tea parties and ballet lessons and picking out prom dresses.

You're not going to do any of those things. You will never shop in the pink aisle of the toy store. You will never go to a dance recital. You will paint rooms blue and red and green, but not pink or purple. Because you are going to have all boys, and they will love Legos and Ninja Turtles and Nerf Guns and all sorts of things you never even thought about. 

You will love those boys more than you can imagine.

I know that you think you are never going to drive a minivan. I remember you saying that on multiple occasions. You are sure that you will buy a stylish SUV, or a Suburban. They fit just as many people as a minivan, but don't have the same frumpy soccer mom stereotype associated with them.

You're not going to buy any SUV. You are going to have a third baby and have the idea of a minivan sound like the solution to everything. You will test drive a minivan and instantly want to buy it.

You will enjoy that minivan more that you can imagine.

I know that you think you will live by the ocean. The ocean calls to your young soul. Even now, I still here that call. You want to leave behind cold winters and dry places and live with the sand between your toes and the sound of the surf in your ears.

You're not going to live by the ocean. You are going to interview for residency at a lot of places by the ocean, but realize that none of them feel right. Then you are going to interview at a little city in Iowa. It will just feel right. It will be the best thing for you, the right thing for your family, and you will have hopes of being able to live there the rest of your life, frigid winters and lack of beaches and all.

You will love Iowa more than you can imagine.

I know that you think you'll be skinny forever. After all, you're really skinny right now. I know you don't believe that - no teenage girl believes they are skinny. But you are. You are amazingly beautiful, and sadly it will take you 15 years to realize that. But you've got great genes and you're healthy and you're active, so of course you're going to be skinny forever. After all, if you got fat, you'd rather die.

You're not going to stay skinny. You are going to have three children and gain a lot of weight with each pregnancy and not be able to loose it all. You will run and bike and diet and cry and buy bigger pants and cry some more. But you're still not super skinny any more. You'll still always want to lose the weight. That feeling never goes away. But at some point, you're going to stop and just think about your body. About how it carried three beautiful babies and how it can run 5 miles and how you let it get sleep deprived and out of shape and fed it a terrible diet of hospital cafeteria food and it still did all those amazing things. You're going to be overweight. I'll be honest - I cringe when I think too long about what size my jeans are and how I had to give away all those cute clothes you have. But still, you're going to be able to run all over the park with your loud boys and hike and do a 10K and carry that really heavy piece of furniture up the stairs with Hubster.

You are going to accept your body more than you can imagine.

I know that none of this is how you saw things going.

But you are going to be happier that you can imagine.

Love,

Your future self.

Oh, P.S. That guy that you're really good friends with right now, the one who thinks it's awesome that you read British novels and compete in the science club and get good grades? Give him a chance. I know that you're still madly crushing on that one other guy with the really nice hair. But that would be a mistake. Because that guy that you're "just friends with" right now?

You're going to love him more that you can imagine.

Currently (Or at least Recently)

Sometimes, when my brain is so very tired and I still feel the need to write something, it's nice to do one of these posts and check in with myself (and also you) about what is going on in my life.

Current Book

I feel that every time I do one of these posts, I'm not actually reading anything. I just finished Adulting, which is hilarious and very justifying about some things I do. Maybe I'm actually an adult after all.

 

 I tried to read The Gold Finch, but that book was exhausting. I'm planning on reading The Ocean at the End of the Road and The Hangman's Daughter.  Any other suggestions?

Current Drink

Water with lime, coffee, and a daily green smoothie.

Current Song

Anything by Florence and the Machine
Contagious by Night Riot
The Funeral by Band of Horses

Hubster has decided that all the music I like is weird.

Current Wish List

To finish our home improvement project list, which mainly involved getting our main bathroom back up and running.

Current Needs

An uninterrupted night's sleep.

Current Movie/TV shows

I'm loving that Downton Abbey started back up. But other than that, I'm not sure what else to watch. We started House of Lies and Mad Men, but really didn't like that characters, which made it hard to keep going back to watch more. I'm open to any Netflix suggestions.

I haven't seen a movie in a while. I'm not even sure what's playing in theaters.

Current Indulgence

Blogging. I'm sure there is some laundry to do, toilets to clean, medical journal to read, or wall to paint. But right now, I'm writing.

Current Outfit

Jeans, boots, and gray hoodie. I'm not fancy at all. Although I am wearing Little Mermaid socks, and those make me pretty happy.

Current Mood

Exhausted. Three days of painting, tiling, and plumbing wears one out.

Current Excitement

It looks like Hubster and I both have real, permanent jobs. This is beyond exciting and warrants a full post later.

2015 Word of the Year

Lately, I'm frequently finding myself distracted, anxious, and stressed. We just finished up a two week school break, and on the last evening, I found myself wondering where all that time had gone. I worried that I had squandered it on meaningless little errands, internet cat videos, and generalized busyness. 

 

Reflecting on that feeling led me to my 2015 word of the year.

 

Present

Present.

That is how I want to live this next year. 

I want to be present with my children. I want to turn off the phone, the television, the radio and fully focus on them. I want to actually listen to all their stories. I want to take the time to read with them, play games with them. I want to marvel in how they grow and change each day. I want to sit on the floor, at their level, and really be there for them.

I want to be present in the now. I want to let go of the anxiety I have for the future. Some stress is inevitable.  I don't need to make it worse by focusing all my energy on it. I want to plan for what I'm able to and just deal with what else arrives when I have to. I want to look forward to the future and what it holds without spending my today worrying about potential troubles.

I want to be present with myself. I want to fully enjoy what it is I'm doing, and stop feeling guilty about the things I think I should be doing. I want to just read my book without thinking about how I should be dusting. I want to enjoy my run without thinking about how far I wish I could go or how many calories I'd like to burn. I want to

I want to be present in my life. I want to remember to realize how wonderful my life is right now. I don't have to wait to be happy until Hubster is done with school, or until our student loans are paid off, or until we find the perfect job or the perfect house, or until I'm the perfect weight. I want to enjoy the present, the right now, just as things are.

This is my life.

And I will be present in it.

 

(All images taken from Pinterest  and are not my own.)

Resolutions

It seems that New Year Resolutions are falling out of vogue. Apparently, they are just another way for us to feel disappointed by ourselves. Resolutions are being replaced by promises and words of the year.

I love words of the year. In fact, I've chosen one for myself. And I love promises. I've made a couple to myself. I'll share those later. Because today is about resolutions.

I love resolutions. I may be the last person that does, but I really do. Making a list, checking items off, for the whole year. Love it. I don't always complete all of them. I'm perfectly okay with that. I don't need to. But I love having a couple overall goals for the year. I like to look back at what I've accomplished and create a plan for what I want to accomplish this year.

January 1 is an arbitrary date. There is should be nothing that magical about going from Wednesday to Thursday, or about changing to a brand new wall calendar. But there is.  There is something about a new year that feels like a huge, fresh, blank page with endless potential.

My 2014 resolutions:

1. Run 3 5Ks and a 10K: I ended up running one 5K and one 10K. The other two 5Ks? We'll say I ran them on the treadmill, at home, untimed.

2. Pass my oral boards: Done!

3. Finish the basement: We met with contractors and had plans drawn up and got quotes and everything. And then found out that we may be moving. So this project was put on hold because we didn't feel like taking on a huge construction job while trying to sell a house.
4. Start decreasing my screen time: This is still a struggle, but I think I'm getting better. If anything, I'm recognizing how much time I'm spending on my phone and doing a better job turning it off and walking away.
5. Start a bullet journal: I did this and loved it. But Hubster surprised me with an Erin Condren planner for Christmas, so I've moved way beyond a simple bullet journal.

 

Even though 2014 was overall a stressful, rather discouraging year, it's nice to look back at this list and feel like I accomplished something. Which is why I'm going to go right ahead with my resolutions for 2015.

 

My 2015 resolutions:

 

1. Run 365 miles in 365 days. I'm committing to averaging a mile a day. I know I won't run every day and some weeks I'll probably skimp on distance. But with a whole year to average things over, I think I can do this.

 

2. Find a job. I'm in the middle of my job search, with another interview lined up. This isn't really a negotiable part of the year, but it will still feel good to cross this one off.

 

3. Move. Survive the move. Along with this comes all the other parts: find and buy another house. Sell our current house. Settle the kids into new schools. I know this is going to be extremely painful, but I'm hoping to weather this with as much calmness as possible.

 

4. Road trip. After our trip over the summer, I fell in love with road tripping. This year, I want to do at least one more. Even if it's just an extended weekend.

 

5. Organize. I have 1000s of pictures that need to be in photo books. I have boxes of papers that need to go into my empty file cabinet. I have a garage and a basement filled with things I may or may not need any more. I have blogs that I want to read but no good way to stay on top of it. I have posts I want to write, but no clear schedule on how to do so. I'm going to get on top of at least a couple of these. I have my shiny new Erin Condren planner. I just signed up for Bloglovin. I'm in the process of uploading my photos to photo book website. I'm all over this resolution.

 

Here at the beginning of the year, I have my road map for this year. During the year, I'll look back on this list and refocus if needs be. At the end of the year, I'll cross of what I did, evaluate why other things did not get done, and not feel terrible one way or the other.  

Busy Being Busy

I used to use one word to describe myself. Busy.

That word doesn't actually tell people anything about me. No insight into my personality, my interests, my profession. But oh, how I loved that word. I got some strange high from being busy. I'd back as many things into a day as I could and the more I did each day, the better I felt about myself. The longer the check list, the more items crossed off the list, the more amazing I was. I relished in being busy, as if to do lists and chores made me super woman.

Looking at it now, being busy never actually made me happy. It was just another attempt to be that mythical super mom, an attempt that was making me stressed, worn down, and unable to fully participate or enjoy the things that actually mattered.

These days, I'm trying to pare down the being busy just for busyness sake. It's actually kind of hard.

If at the end of the day, if I haven't done something that feels "productive" I feel a little panicky. I can't have just spent a whole day reading a novel and watching Netflix with my kids. I must do something useful! So I'll rush to do a load of laundry, or clean off the bathroom counters, or tidy the kids' rooms. Just so I don't feel that the day has "been a waste."

Which is ridiculous, because I love reading and my boys love watching TV with me, snuggled up on our family room couch together. Those things are valuable, useful, and important.

So I'm working on not taking on too much, not adding more things to my schedule, just for the appearance of staying busy. I keep telling myself it's perfectly fine to not be busy.

That's not to be saying I won't doing projects. Hubster always despairs when I start a new project, such as reorganizing the photo gallery wall in the living room, or repainting my closet, or a big craft project with the kids. Because it's not like we don't have enough on our plates without me adding more things.  But I'm doing those things because I actually enjoy them, not just to keep busy.

I feel that this is a lesson that has taken me way too long to learn. That I don't need to be busy to be happy, or successful, or meaningful.  I just need to enjoy what I'm doing. I'm going to work on being involved, not being busy.

It's time to pick another word to describe myself.

10K Accomplished

This weekend, I accomplished another one of my running goals and completed my first 10K. 

Granted, I generally plodded along and had to walk up the hill that was present at mile 5. But I finished, with an official chip time of 1:07:28.

It's not fast, but I'm proud of that time. A 10K isn't super long, but I'm proud of the distance. Last summer, when I first started running, I didn't think there was any way I would make it to this point. After all, last summer, when I started the Couch-to-5K program, I could barely run for a minute at a time.

I've run a few 5Ks in the last year and thoroughly enjoyed them. Not once during a 5K did I ever think that it was hard. This weekend, when I hit mile 5, with 1.2 miles to go, and most of that uphill, I felt that it was hard, in a "I'm not going to finish, I need to stop and throw up on the side of the road" hard.

But I finished, I kept going, I didn't throw up. Maybe this sounds cheesy or silly, but the people lining the course, who called out words of encouragement and motivation, helped so much. Having people call out "Way to stay strong!" and "You've got this!" helped me continue to run when really I just wanted to stop.

During the last year of running, I've had moments where I've become very discouraged. I haven't lost any weight. I haven't become significantly faster; it's rare that I run a mile under 11 minutes, and only once have I done a sub 10 minute mile. My distance has been slow to improve. Last year, I thought for sure I would run a marathon some day. Now even a half marathon feels undoable.

I know that I shouldn't let things like that discourage me. The number on the scale shouldn't be important. The only one I should compare myself to is my old self. And I do feel healthier. I have more energy. I'm better at keeping up with my boys. My resting heart rate is now in the 50s. All signs that I have become healthier. But it would be nice to have more to show from all the 5 am runs.

Finished a 10K is the first thing in a while that has felt like real progress, even with my pace being right at that 11 minute mile. Even with the fact that I can't feel my legs today.

I'm not sure what the next step is from here. Another 10K, but try to improve my time? A half marathon? I haven't decided. The one thing I know is that I'll keep going. I'll keep waking up in the dark mornings to run on my treadmill. I'll keep bundling up both myself and Duck up and run with the jogging stroller. 

I'll just keep running.

Run For Fun

When I set a goal to run a 5K earlier this year, it felt insurmountable. I'm not an athlete by any definition.  I've started a large variety of exercise plans over the years and never been able to stick with any.  I've never had a gym membership in my life.  I knew I wasn't in shape and I knew that eventually it was going to catch up with me.

This year, I became determined to change all that. When trying to decide what I would do, I needed something that didn't require expensive equipment, ridiculous amounts of time, or a gym/personal trainer. With my tight budget and tight schedule, flexibility and affordability was essential. So what better than running? Hubster had bought me a jogging stroller early this year, and this meant that Duck could come with me. I could run whenever I had time, with no addition expense or childcare. It seemed perfect.

There was only one problem with my plan.

I hated running.

I had tried running a couple times before and had quit because I just didn't like it.

This time, things were going to be different. I had a goal - a 5K at the end of summer. I convinced my family it would be fun if we ran one all together and they patiently, as they do with most of my ideas, agreed.

I started a Couch-2-5K program and stuck with it.

Slowly, slowly, I made progress. 

I ran by myself.  I ran with music.  I ran without music.  I ran pushing a stroller. I ran with Monkey and Duck. I ran in the dark early mornings and in the dark late evenings.  I ran on muggy afternoons and rainy weekends.

And this last weekend, we ran our first 5K as a family

And it was awesome!

We decided that in order to make it fun for everyone, including 7 year old Monkey, we would do a color festival type run. Color Me Rad in Des Moines fit all our criteria.

Our only goal for this was that we all have fun and we all finish on our own two feet.  Both goals were met. Everyone, even Monkey, who had never really enjoyed our family runs, had a blast.

We started bright shiny white and over the 3.1 mile course, became covered in bright happy colors.

After that race, I had such a sense of accomplishment. I didn't run the entire time, having stop and walk with Monkey several times. But I ran most of it. I went from running a minute at a time to running a 5K.

Somewhere over the last several months, something changed.

I enjoy running. It helps with my stress level, my energy level.  I sleep better.

I haven't lost weight, which I was hoping would happen. But most the time, I don't care.  I feel better about myself. I don't run fast. I know there are people that run marathons and that a little 5K isn't much. But most the time, I don't care. I've made improvements, I'm changing myself for the better.

I've already signed up for another 5K later this month.  And I'm going to keep going after that.

Who would have imagined a future where people run for fun...and that I would be one of them?


This is the start of something awesome.

Birthday Wishes

Despite the fact that I'm technically a grown up, I'm still one of those people that get excited about their birthday. Not in the "I want a big party with streamers and confetti and silly hats and lots of people" excited (well, maybe just a little), but more the "I just want to do something special" excited. Even though I'm getting old enough that people would be understanding if I didn't want to celebrate, I still want to.

Last year, my birthday was both wonderful and not so wonderful. I did have lunch with a friend, and got my very first pedicure, and best of all, found out that I was pregnant with Duck. But my work schedule was such that I only saw my family for a few minutes in the early morning. I spent the rest of the day alone.

So this year, I had some very specific birthday wishes. Because this year was going to be better than last year.

I wanted to not plan or cook a single meal.
I wanted to eat sushi.
I wanted a cake with candles.
I wanted to sleep in.
I wanted to spend the entire day with my family.

Hubster woke me up late, to a wonderful breakfast he cooked.  He surprised me with a wonderful cake, complete with candles. We went out for sushi (even if I was the only one who ate any.)  Hubster offered to find a babysitter, but I declined.  Because even if it might be a little stressful having all three kids at the restaurant, what I wanted was for us to be together.

And that's what we were.

I feel absolutely spoiled and very birthday girlish.

This birthday, I got every thing I wanted, even before I blew out the candles.

38 Weeks

I'm getting to the point where I hope that there won't be any more pregnancy update posts. I think I've officially hit the wall. I'm done. I'm fat pregnant enough that I can't fit into most my pregnancy clothes.  My feet are massively swollen.  I waddle.  My hips and back ache. I'm exhausted, but still can't sleep more than three hours in a row. The belly is just getting out of control.

I'm not all miserable.  Every rib bruising kick this little boy gives me makes me wonder how much he will weigh, whether he will be as bald as Bug and Monkey, and when he will make his appearance.

Despite physically having had enough, I'm actually hoping Duck does hold off just a bit on his grand entrance.  My mom arrives in 6 days.  And it would be kind of nice to make it through Thanksgiving without being immediately post-partum. 

To combat the fatigue and overall just blah feeling, I've spent the last week doing a little pampering.  

A couple of weeks ago, I took both Bug and Monkey out for individual dates, just the two of us out for an evening.

Hubster and I have a date planned for this weekend (hopefully.)

But I needed some individual time. I choose a time where my work schedule was lighter and spread a variety of activities over the week.

I bought myself flowers.

I got a manicure and pedicure, choosing a light blue to celebrate the arrival of a baby boy.

 (Just focus on the cute toenail color, and not the swollen toes)

I scheduled a maternity massage, which was the most wonderful thing.  I kept dozing off and may have snored on at least one occasion during.

This last week of some dedicated "me" time was something I have never done before, but was well worth it. I also took my last OR call of residency, (having worked 15 out of the last 17 weekends), and that alone is worth celebrating.

I feel rejuvenated and maybe, maybe even able to resist the temptation to have my OB/GYN induce me a week early.

Just Like Any Other Day

When I woke up this morning, I laid in bed for a while, wondering if I felt different. I kept thinking that maybe I should feel different.  But my arms, legs, bad eyes, fuzzy hair, and my continuous thoughts all still felt the same.

Today I'm 30.

This is the big one, right?  The one where now I'm adult. Which I why I thought maybe I should feel different.  I didn't really think that I would, but I thought that I should.

But today is just like any other day. Well, it did include some presents, lots of hugs, a pedicure (my first one ever!), and lunch with a friend. So, maybe not just like any other day.

I kept thinking that I should do something big, something important for this birthday. But like many other things in my life, it crept up on me, without me noticing, until Monkey pointed out that my birthday was going to be the next day.  I thought I had more time to prepare for this, more time to come up with something amazing.

But instead, today will be just like any other day. There are dishes to be done and meals to be made. There is work to go to. But I'm not actually the one doing the dishes and the meals are done (thank you, crock pot) and my work hours are dramatically shorter this week. So, maybe not just like any other day.

When Hubster turned 30, I remember he approached a full-on freak out. Granted, the man thinks that he has been accelerating towards his grave since the day he turned 25, so it hardly counts.  I kept trying to calm him down, telling him 30 wasn't old, it was just the beginning of being an adult. Then, a month ago, when I realized that I would be 30 very soon, I felt that same panic rising up in me. Was I ready to leave behind my 20s?  I hadn't done nearly any of the things I had wanted to do in that decade of my life?  Was I really ready to be the adult that being 30-something entails?

However, this morning, there was no freaking out. There was just lying in bed, trying to figure out of being 30 felt different that being 29.  So far, being 30 today feels just like any other day.  Although, so far, 30 comes with pretty purple nails and Hunger Games movie tickets and key lime pie.

Okay, so maybe not just like any other day.

What It Says About Me: The Purse

As we were getting ready to run errands over the weekend, I remembered two more items we needed to pick up at the store. I called to Hubster in the other room to write contact solution and olive oil on the list. When he asked where the list was, I told him it was in my purse. A few quiet minutes later and Hubster tromps upstairs.

"Which grocery list would you like me to add it to? You have 8 grocery lists in your purse."

Maybe I should clean my purse out a little more often.

Many months ago, I wrote about both my bedside table and my refrigerator and what they say about me. I had always meant to follow that up with a post about my purse, what with it being how you tell a lot about a woman and all.

The 8 grocery lists made me decide that now would be a good time to do that. Although I'm not exactly sure I like what my purse is saying about me these days.

This is my purse. I can't remember where I bought it, but it wasn't very expensive. The green makes me happy.


I decided to do this the honest way. I took my purse, unzipped all the compartments and then shook it out onto my bedroom floor.



This is what my purse is saying about me. It needs it's mouth washed with soap.

After organizing my purse, I found that it contained:


4 pens
3 pencils
1 pair of socks
Pack of gum
2 Chick-fil-A mints
Tic-Tacs
Ice Breaker mints
1 nearly empty bag of craisins
Meal replacement shake
1 fruit snack package
1 package of Twizzlers
2 Veggie Tales CDs
Tub of wet wipes
Pack of Kleenex
Moist towelette
Finger nail clippers
Floss
Chap stick/lip stick/gloss
Coke cap
Ziploc bag of art charcoal
Cash
Sunscreen
Keys
1 movie ticket
2 book marks
4 fortunes from fortune cookies
5 lists of books for library day
13 receipts
iPhone
Camera
2 pieces of mail
1 concert program
1 note from the boy's pediatrician
A small-ish pile of garbage

and yes...

8 grocery lists.

So what does this say about me? Well, mostly, I think it says that I need to clean my purse out a little more often.

It also says I'm prepared for a little bit of everything. Dirty hands, bad breath, sunny day, wet feet. I've got it covered.

And also, if the zombie apocalypse happens tomorrow, I'm carrying enough food in my purse to at least make it a week.

What does your purse say about you?

Typical Day

It's been a long time since I've described a typical day around here. Mostly because there are no typical days. Even when the days are blurring into one heavy load that sometimes crushes me into exhaustion, I cannot choose one day that accurately portrays my life.

But today was about as routine as they come. So I'll start with today...

4:50 am: Alarm goes off. I push snooze. I always give myself 5 minutes of snooze. It feels like such a luxury.

4:55 am: Alarm goes off again. No more luxury. Time to get out of bed. I've started getting up a few minutes early to do a few exercises and stretches. Because I'm losing a war with my scale. And with my pants. And so ultimately, with myself. I do crunches, push-ups, and stretches. I check to see if I can still reach my toes. Success.

5:00 am: Enough exercise. 5 minutes is enough. Head to the bathroom. I weigh myself. Okay, 5 minutes isn't enough. I wash my face, put in my contacts, brush my teeth, pretend to do my hair and make-up. Even though my eyes is all that people will see of my face most of the day at work.

5:15 am: Get dressed. Put on deodorant.

5:20 am: Downstairs to make coffee while I put on my compression stockings (don't judge, I stand a lot at my job.) I pack a quick lunch. I'm tempted to grab the delicious leftover broccoli-cheese soup, but I remember that vindictive scale upstairs and pack a grapefruit instead. I also put on my boots, because we got a lot of snow yesterday.

5:25 am: Back upstairs. Kiss a sleeping Hubster, Bug, and Monkey good-bye for the day. Monkey wakes up and wants a hug as well. I hug him tight and hush him back to sleep.

5:27 am: Grab my keys, bag, phone, and coat. Back the car down the driveway. And leave. Everyday I hate the leaving part.

5:37 am: Arrive at the commuter parking lot. Check the weather while I wait for the bus. It says it's cold outside. Yep, already knew that.

5:40 am: Get on the bus. Three of my fellow residents are on the same bus. We talk about what cases we are doing that day.

5:50 am: Arrive the hospital. Walk across the frigid parking garage to the side door I always take. Ride the elevator up.

5:55 am: Change into scrubs. Grab my pager, my stethoscope, my scrub hat, my name badge. Fill my pockets with my phone, several pens, and a marker. Drop my bag off in the resident lounge, put my depressing lunch in the fridge, grab my clipboard with my schedule, and head down to the operating rooms.

6:00 am: Grab supplies from the anesthesia work room. An IV set-up, an extra LMA. Stop by the pharmacy window and check of the drugs for my first patient. Head to my OR.

6:05 am: Get my OR ready. I have a mnemonic I follow every day to make sure I don't miss a thing. Everything I need for airway management is prepared. All the drugs I need are drawn up in labeled syringes. I'm incredibly OCD about my labels. Actually, maybe about everything.

6:30 am: Head upstairs for lecture. Today's lecture is a refresher on obstetric anesthesia.

7:15 am: Lecture is over. I meet with the resident who is rotating through anesthesia right now. We head back down to the ORs. I set up a few more things.

7:30 am: I go to see my first patient, a 40 something female, undergoing a procedure for kidney stones. She's unusual, in the fact that she's otherwise healthy. I don't have many patients this healthy. I introduce myself, talk about the plan for anesthesia, the risks of anesthesia. I answer her questions. I start her IV.

8:00 am: Arrive in the OR with the patient. The nurses ask her a few more questions. I help her move over to the OR bed. I put all the monitors on her. The rotating resident helps. My supervising staff arrives. I give her oxygen while he gives her drugs to drift her off to sleep. Once she's asleep, I place an LMA. We work with the surgical team to position her for her procedure.

8:30 am: The procedure has started. I do some charting. I do my little OCD thing and organize everything, throw away all trash, get everything pretty and clean. I talk to the rotating resident about LMAs: how to use them, their benefits, limitations, indications. I do some more charting. I check the weather. It's still cold.

10:30 am: This first procedure is over. My staff comes to the room. We wake the patient up and take her to recovery (or PACU). I give report to the recovery nurse, write a post-op note. I stop by the pharmacy window to drop of the drugs I didn't use and to check out drugs for my next patient.

10:40 am: Stop by the anesthesia work-room again for a spinal kit for the next patient. Head back to my OR to get everything ready for the next case.

10:50 am: Go see the next patient. This patient is over 90 years old and has a two page long problem list. He is at increased risk of adverse outcomes. We discuss spinal anesthesia and how it would be safer for him, given his lung disease. He stopped his blood thinning medication a week ago and the lab I ordered for him shows that his blood clotting time is at a level safe enough to do a spinal. He agrees.

11 am: Arrive in the OR again with this patient. Put on all the monitors, position the patient for the spinal. The spinal goes smoothly. The patient doesn't feel anything during his procedure and we avoided general anesthesia for him. I sent the rotating resident to lunch and then home for the day.

12:15 pm: This procedure went faster than expected. Take the patient to recovery. He is still numb from the waist down and is requiring some medication to keep his blood pressure up. Give report the to the recovery nurse, put in the order for the blood pressure medication, write a post-op note. Stop by pharmacy again.

12:35 pm: See the next patient. He already has an IV. Talk about the plan, the risks. I say the exact same thing every time. I try to be genuine and personable, but it's just the same speech every day. If I say it out of order, I forget things.

12:45 pm: Arrive in the OR with patient number 3. I offered him a spinal, but he didn't want to be awake. My staff and I drift him to sleep, "induction." Another airway is placed. I do some charting. My staff sends me to lunch.

1:15 pm: Grab a cup of ice water. Arrive in the resident lounge for lunch. Most of the residents have already eaten, but there is usually always someone here. We talk about how our days are going. We complain about how tired we are. We complain about the new scrubs. We share stories, trying to make each other laugh. I eat my grapefruit. I look at my cases for the next day. Two oral surgery cases. My favorite kind. Tomorrow is going to be a good day.

1:45 pm: Time to head back to the OR. The case is finishing up.

2:15 pm: Wake this patient up and take him to recovery. Report, note, pharmacy, OR. Rinse and repeat.

2:30 pm: Meet the last patient for the day. Say the same things. Do the same things.

2:45 pm: Arrive with last patient in the OR. Say the same things. Do the same things. Notice how cold it is in the OR. Check the weather. It hasn't changed. Check my e-mail. My schedule for the rest of residency is done. This excites, scares, overwhelms, and depresses me. I don't know why it does any of those things. Keeping one eye on the patient and the monitors, I play a round of Words with Friends. I'm losing. I do some study questions. This OR is freezing.

4:oo pm: This case feels like it's taking forever. Luckily, the patient has been very stable throughout the entire procedure.

4:15 pm: The surgeon announces suddenly that they are done with the case. Page my staff. Wake the patient up. Go to recovery. Report, note, pharmacy.

4:30 pm: Go back to the resident lounge. Do a happy dance as I enter because originally my cases were scheduled to go until 6 pm and we finished early. This never happens. I call the staff I'm working with tomorrow to discuss the two patients we have tomorrow. I'm excited for the cases.

4:50 pm: Go to the locker room, change out of scrubs and into normal clothes.

5:00 pm: Catch the bus back to the commuter lot. It is light outside and this is deliciously refreshing after not arriving home until after 7 for the last 5 work days. I call my mom and my sister, but don't get hold of anyone.

5:10 pm: Arrive in the commuter lot. Plug in my iPod to listen to happy music on the way home. Get stuck in small-town Iowa version of traffic.

5:30 pm: Arrive home. Do another happy dance for being home so early. I hug Monkey, Bug, and Hubster. Hubster is still in his scrubs from dental school; he only got home 10 minutes before I did.

5:45 pm: Make dinner. Tonight is corn and tofu lettuce wraps. I debate on lying to the boys about the tofu. But it's already written on the menu, so they'd know.

6:15 pm: Finally get everyone up to the table for dinner. Monkey has to get down three times: once for a straw, once for a napkin, and once to give me a hug. It's hard to get mad at that. I ask everyone about their day. Sometimes, this is like pulling teeth. But today, they excited about a game they played in P.E.

6:40 pm: The "how many bites" bargaining begins. I usually win by setting the first bid ridiculously high. Tonight is more successful than most. The boys have already eaten most their food. Hubster disappears upstairs to start studying. He has a test tomorrow.

6:45 pm: Encourage the boys to do their chores. Get Bug to practice his violin and do his spelling. We sing silly songs for each of his spelling words.

7:oo pm: Do dishes. Rinse out coffee mug so it's ready for tomorrow morning. Sit on the couch and just feel tired. Get sucked into the internet while the boys chase each other in circles. I read e-mail, Facebook, news, Pinterest, blogs. I shouldn't, but I do.

7:45 pm: The boys' game of tag has turned into a pillow fight. Send the boys to get in their pajamas and brush their teeth. For some reason, this is the longest part of the day. They don't want to get in their pajamas, since it's interrupting their play. But finally, Bug sets the good example and Monkey soon follows. They come downstairs for story time.

8:15 pm: Start reading. I say two stories, but like every other night, it ends up being three. You win some, you lose some. And if this is the one I lose, I'm fine with it. We read Dr. Seuss, a story of a monster, and a story about shadows.

8:40 pm: It's already past bedtime. Monkey is starting to get cranky. He goes upstairs to bother Hubster, who is still studying. I'm starting to feel really tired, but I have to read to Bug. He looks forward to this so much. I read to Bug, with him cuddled next to me, laughing at the funny parts. We are reading a novel about Ancient Egypt. We Google parts of the book we don't know. It's history lesson and reading all in one.

9:05 pm: I give Bug a piggy back ride upstairs to his room. I collect Monkey from next to Hubster and tuck him in bed. As Hubster comes in to their room to join us for bedtime prayer, Monkey starts sharing the fact he can now do subtraction. Which sets Bug off on the probability he is learning in math. We have to shush them for prayer. The last thing I say is, "We are not discussing negative numbers at this time of night."

9:15 pm: Finally, we have prayer. I kiss them both goodnight. Hubster stays and sings to Monkey. This is their thing together.

9:20 pm: Wash my face, take out my contacts, brush my teeth, change into some sweats.

9:25 pm: Sit with my laptop and two anesthesia text books in front of the TV. I blog. I haven't blogged in a while. It feels good. I watch a show from the DVR. I read a section from my anesthesia book. I talked a while ago that I was going to stop all this multi-tasking. It isn't possible. I have to do all these things at once, or I don't get to do them at all.

10:30 pm: Head upstairs. Kiss my sleeping boys good night. Every night, I make sure the last thing I do before getting into bed is kiss them. Even though Bug is so far over against the far side of his top bunk, that his kiss is delivered from my fingertips to his cheek.

10:32 pm: Hubster is still studying. He offers to move his books out of the bedroom and study in the office. But we don't get much time together, so I'm happy to have him nearby, even if the light is on and he's studying instead of snuggling. I should go straight to sleep, but I play a round of Words with Friends. I read part of a chapter in my book.

10:50 pm: Fall asleep. 6 hours before it all starts again.

As far as days go, this was a great day. I was home in time to cook dinner. I had down time. I got to read with my boys. I didn't fall asleep during dinner. My cases at work went very well.

I had planned on writing about last Thursday or Friday. Those were bad days and part of me wants to share my bad days, wear them like military stripes of what I survived. But I don't want to keep reliving the bad days. When I look back and read this again, I'm hoping that I can remember my days being like this perfectly typical day. Story time with my boys. Talking about math at bedtime. Dinner all together. There will be days that will be better and days that will be worse. And hopefully, there will be more of these typical days.

The Poet Inside

I used to write poetry.

I was the stereotypical teenager, filled to overflowing with angst and heartbreak and big dreams. I sat cross-legged on the porch swing, scribbling page after page on emotion heavy lines. I found neglected corners on the college campus, either propped against a regal column or letting my legs hang over a high concrete wall, pouring my heart onto paper. I would wander outdoors, often feeling like Anne Shirley reading Lady of Shalott in the woods.


There is a box in my basement filled with notebooks of my poetry.

To be honest, most of it is not very good. It is the typical writing of a young girl who often thought she felt more than she really did.


I have not written poetry in a very long time. Between all the daily events I call my real life and the hectic pull of everything, the lyrical view I held of the world gave way to a more cynical, logical, stressed newsprint outlook.

But there are still moments.

Evenings where the river is still and flat, belying the strong current underneath, perfectly reflecting the boat house, the bridge, and the black silhouette of naked trees. Afternoons at the park, with the wind in the pine boughs, the chains of the swings clinking. Mornings early enough that the trees are still heavy with birds, the sound of the car rousing them to form soft, flittering clouds around leafless branches. Moments of a head tucked under my arm, and soft blue eyes and the hint of dimple. Quiet at the bedside of a patient.

Then I think the poetry is still there. And it is just as beautiful and alive and heartbreaking as it was when I was a teenager. I want to write it all down, capture the moment, keep it alive with ink.


Then the noise and chaos and schedules and menus and deadlines swell up again and push those thoughts back into hiding. Life is too busy, too real to waste writing silly words in floral covered notebooks.

But then, maybe it's just busy enough to need to.

Currently - December

Current Book
Just finished The Book Thief. This book was excellent. Now I'm finishing up The Maze Runner series.

Also, I am determined to get a book review post out before the end of the year, so I can share my thoughts on the books I have read this year.

Current Albums
Waking Up by OneRepublic
Funeral by Arcade Fire

Current Shame-Inducing Guilty Pleasure
Pinterest. I am newly obsessed. Because I need another time suck in my life.

Current Drink
Eggnog. Tis the season.

Current Songs
"Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show
"The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson

Current Wish-List
A house keeper and a personal chef

Current Needs
Two consecutive days off. It's coming up this weekend. I'm so excited.

Current Triumph
Getting Monkey to sleep in his own bed instead of the floor
Having all my Christmas shopping done and Christmas cards mailed by December 1st.

Current Favorite Film
We just rented Super 8, and I loved it!

Current TV Show
Person of Interest
Chopped

Current Indulgence
Blogging. Given everything right now, even 15 minutes of straight computer time feels like a luxury.

Current Outfit
Breaking out my cozy winter sweaters!

Current Banes of My Existence
The state of our bathrooms. They are quite neglected.

Current Excitement
Christmas. I'm crazy excited!

Current Mood
Vitamin D deficient tired. I need some sunshine.

I have hobbies...right?

Several weeks ago, I had a medical student working with me in the operating room. He hadn't decided what he wanted to go into after medical school, and we were talking about the advantages of anesthesia. I try to convince everyone that they should do anesthesia. We talked about the autonomy, the problem solving, the close interaction with a patient's physiology. We talked about greater job flexibility and the chance to continue having a life outside the hospital, to continue to have hobbies.

"What hobbies do you have," the medical student asked me.

I paused. Well, I, um...I...sometimes I...um...

The only thing I could think about were my boys. How really the only thing I wanted to do was to do things with them. I kept trying to think of a hobby that I did besides be their mom.

I came up with nothing else.

It had happened. I had become one of those crazy moms who had no life outside being a mom. Yes, I work more than full time. I study as much as I can. But when I'm not doing anesthesia, what I'm doing is being a mom. I used to paint, do photography, play the flute and the piano, read, play tennis. Now, any free moment is spent preparing meals, doing homework with the boys, planning activities to do with them, going on family outings.

My kids are my hobby.

Do not misunderstand me. Being a parent has been the most amazing experience. I love being a parent. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

But I was surprised to realize how parenting had filled every nook and cranny of my life. I have always preached that as parents, moms or dads, we need to make sure we keep a balanced life. I know that I need to keep all the parts of me that aren't anesthesia and that aren't mom healthy and functional. It's not just about finding "me time" occasionally. I've been better at carving out time for just me, but it's usually spent watching a show late at night or playing on the internet. I have let all my hobbies get pushed to the back of the closet and covered in the piles of laundry and dishes.

I had thought for a while that blogging was my new hobby. It allowed to combine my love of writing and photography. But when I looked back over the past several months, it was clear that the mom side of me was taking over my blog as well. I have always used my blog as both a place to talk about my family and our activities and as a place to write about my thoughts. But the family and activities have dominated over any personal posts for quite some time.

I have become the kid-obsessed, annoying mommy blogger.

Most of me wouldn't have it any other way.

But there is that little piece, a tiny piece that wants to write and sing and paint, the a tiny piece that has been tucked far back in a corner behind the boxes of physiology and pharmacology and monthly menus and back-to-school nights, a tiny little piece that wants to be taken out and dusted off and see the light of day again.

Commute

I have started riding my bike to work. Ever since we moved, I've been talking about it. We live three miles from the hospital, so I kept telling myself I would do it. Although, one would have to actually have a bike to ride it to work. But then, a year ago, I bought a bike. And then I still didn't ride it to work. I had a lot of excuses: I was running late, it might rain, I was tired, I just didn't want to...

Then a couple of months ago, I decided I just needed to do it.

And then I realized how out of shape I am. It was only three miles, but it absolutely killed me. By the time I got to work the first day, I was bright red, sweaty, and so out of breath I could barely walk into the hospital.

At that point, I realized that I absolutely needed to continue to ride my bike to work.

Normally, my door-to-door commute is about 20 minutes. I leave my house, arrive at the commuter lot in 8ish minutes, wait for the commuter shuttle, and then ride the commuter shuttle to the hospital. On my bike, my commute is now 17-20 minutes going to the hospital and 25 minutes coming home. Because there is a huge, steep hill on the way home, and I just can't make it all the way up it, and am forced to walk most of the way up.

My bike ride didn't start out that quick. That first ride, when I was so red and sweaty, took me 30 minutes. There is a small, but steep hill just before I get to the hospital, and the first week, I really struggled with it. I got passed by another cyclist who made the hill look easy, which made me feel a little bad. And then it happened...I got passed by a jogger. I wanted to jump of my bike, hide behind a tree and cry. But I didn't. I kept going. And my ride has decreased from 30 minutes to 17. My face isn't red when I get to the hospital anymore. And last week, I passed another cyclist.

I can think of so many reasons to keep this up. I add exercise into my day without really adding any more time. I don't use the gas in my car. I get to be outside. I really, really want to keep this up.

Unfortunately, the time is coming rapidly where my bike riding days are over. I have to leave at 5:30 am, and it is very, very, VERY dark at 5:30 am. Even with my headlight for my bike, it's just getting a little too dark for me. I get pretty anxious in the dark. Each morning, I keep expecting a crazy squirrel or raccoon to leap out of the bushes and attack me. Also, winter is coming. I'm definitely not hardcore enough to ride my bike in the winter.

My two wheeled commuting may be done for the year. But there is always next year, when the mornings are warm again and the sun rises a little earlier. And maybe next year, I will finally make it up that hill.