Morning.

I think my baby might be going through a growth spurt. She’s started waking up at 3:30 in the morning again, and then goes right back to bed after eating. My energy level was pretty good after feeding her this morning, so I decided to go to a 5:15 a.m. fitness class. I love the feeling of being up early. I love the feeling of being out in the world super early in the morning, before the sun has risen. Everything feels new and hopeful.

The class is about 15 minutes away. I live in a major metropolitan area, but the morning drive, when there are no cars on the road, makes me feel as if I live in the country. The road is narrow and windy, passing spaced-out McMansions, empty, undeveloped fields and two farms before I’m deposited back in the cookie-cutter suburb my gym is in. On the way home, I passed two deer enjoying someone’s grassy lawn. It was unusually foggy and my town felt more complex and mysterious than it usually does.

 

You Got This, Mama.

I just want to say that I really hate cheerful encouragement, particularly within an athletic context: “You got this! You can do it! You’re doing great! Keep going! Keep it up! High five!”

And worst of all: “You got this, Mama!”

The latter combines both my dislike of enthusiastic words of encouragement AND my dislike of moms referring to each other as “Mama.” I only want my baby calling me Mama.

It all kind of feels like getting one of those cheap participation trophies at the end of the soccer season.

I know it would be pretty ogreish to ask well-meaning people to stop with the one-line pep talks, so I don’t. I’m sure it says more about me than them.

But God it annoys me.

Habit.

I have a lot of difficulty with (good) habit formation. I also have difficulty maintaining motivation, sticking to long-term goals and making consequential decisions. With so many good options, how do you decide which one is best? Or at least good enough? I spend too much time and energy in the decision making process. Do I go to exercise class today, or not? Should I finish my Master’s program even if I’m not passionate about the subject matter? Do I wake up early to write or would I be better off if I caught up on sleep? And most importantly, what do I actually want out of my life?

I think this Sylvia Plath quote sums up my feelings best:

“I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.”

Sometimes I think that if I had solid habits, I wouldn’t have to spend so much time deciding. What if I were just the type of person who goes to exercise classes on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays? What if I were just the kind of person who finishes what they start? The kind of person who wakes up early after getting eight hours of sleep (rather than wasting several hours every night on my phone)? Most importantly: How do I become the kind of person who can form and maintain good habits? And how do I decide what I most want in my life?

This Morning.

I had a really good morning. The baby woke up around 5:45 and I gave her a bottle and then rocked her back to sleep. Then I spent about an hour writing. I’m working on a short story, and I feel like I made some progress today.

When my daughter woke up again, I got her dressed and played with her for a little bit. I put her in legwarmers and a red bandana, and she looked like a 1980s jazzercise instructor. Or a gangster. This morning she was able to lift her neck during tummy time a few times, and this is a new development.

On my way to work, I stopped by our local bagel place and got my usual: Toasted wheat lox, no capers, and a decaf soy cappuccino from the Starbucks next door.

5K Trail Run

I did a 5k trail run this weekend. It was hot and humid, I started out too quickly and I got to blisters on the inside of my feet. I think it took me over an hour. I did the same race last year and thoroughly enjoyed it, but I didn’t enjoy it this year.

There were 50 or 60 people doing three and six hour races, and they all looked like beautiful, muscular trail Gods. I always feel slightly envious of people like that. It’s not really that I want to run 30 or 40 miles at a time. It’s more that I’m not the kind of person who does. One guy had a feather in his man bun. I don’t know why.

A Good Morning.

This morning, I woke up at 4:30 and gave my baby her bottle. Then I tried a new workout class at 5:45. The class was held outside and consisted of four minutes of running and three minutes of strength training. It was challenging, but I was able to complete all six rounds. I think I’ve done about five or six classes with this new gym, and I have the feeling it’s going to stick this time.

After working out, I stopped by Starbucks for a decaf cappuccino. I love Starbucks early in the morning: People on their way home from the gym or going to work, the lines not crazy yet. And I love being on the road before the sun comes up, while the roads are mostly empty. It’s a rare experience in a large metropolitan area, to not be in traffic.

When I got home, I took a quick shower, tidied up my bedroom and played with my baby for 30 minutes or so. She was smiling a lot, and her skin was rosy and dewy.  She seemed really happy and calm. I read her a book, and she was interested. I know she has no idea what I’m saying, but she’s able to sit and look at the pictures now.

Express Circuit Training.

This morning I went back to my exercise class and I kind of liked it. I think I like it because you don’t do the same exercise for more than a few minutes at a time, so just when it’s starting to get unbearable, it’s time to switch. I think I also like the variety, and feeling like I’m part of something. This morning, I was part of a group of people who got up crazy early for a 45-minute workout at 12 different stations. It was kind of fun. I hope this turns into a routine, and it sticks.

Designing Your Life.

I’ve been thinking about ways to better design my life so that I have more time to do the things I want to do and use my time more effectively. Some fixes are easy. I used to leave clothes all over my bathroom floor, so I bought a hamper for the bathroom and that pretty much solved the messy bathroom issue. I tend to let my razors get dull to the point where they barely work. An easy fix is to stock up on a several month supply of razor blades so they are easily accessible when my current one goes dull.

But some problems are harder to fix. How do I make myself eat healthier? Exercise more regularly? Study more? Work harder at work? Wake up earlier? 

Tips appreciated.  

Writing for Writing’s Sake.

It occurred to me the other day that I’m actually allowed to write for the pure joy of writing. For most of my adult life, I’ve had a lot of anxiety around writing. Publication/making a living out of it has always been in the back of my mind. But what if I just start writing because it’s fun? Would easing up on the self-imposed pressure (or the silent yearning) of being a successful writer actually help me write more freely? Why not just do it because I enjoy it and forget about the stakes?

I went to one of those paint and sip events yesterday at a local winery, and experienced one of those rare moments (at least for me) of synchrony; the world and I were riding the same wavelength. I know it sounds trite, but I felt like I was one with the universe for a few hours of pure bliss painting a crappy picture I’ll probably throw away in a few weeks.

Paint by Numbers
The adult version of paint by numbers.

I’ve experienced moments like this before: Dancing tipsy at a nightclub, watching a great movie, listening to Nina Simone or Edith Piaf after a breakup, and sometimes, even while writing. I want more moments of blissful synchrony in my life; I want to write for the fun of it, like I did when I was a child.

In other words, everything doesn’t need to be a means to an end.

I Wish I Were Medium-Size Fat.

I’ve never lost hope that one day I will be less fat. But I HAVE given up hope that I’ll be thin. Nowadays I would happily settle (strive!) for being medium-size fat instead of super-size fat. I always hope that one day I will experience a moment of enlightenment, or, as Gretchen Rubin would say, “a lighting bolt that transforms [my] habits,” and I will suddenly become the kind of person who loves to exercise and naturally makes healthy food choices. 

The main problem with these hopes is that there’s no such thing as magic. Being less fat requires sustained motivation and dedication, two things I struggle with in all aspects of my life. It also requires eating less and exercising more, because if you are born with a slow metabolism and a propensity toward fatness, at some point you need to come to terms with your fatness, or you need to come to terms with the fact that you just can’t eat like other (thin)people. Neither option is particularly appealing to me.

Right now, I’m in weight loss purgatory. I’m sure if I should go the fat acceptance route and just enjoy food and my natural state of being, or if I should continue striving for a smaller body. I know the statistics. I know that less than 5% of people keep the weight off for more than five years. It’s depressing to think about, and knowing my personality, I’m not all that confident I’d make that 5%. Sometimes I think I would be happier if I just forgot about losing large amounts of weight and fully accepted myself as I am. But then, I have had very real health consequences which I think are at least partially due to my weight: I had preeclampsia with my daughter, and I’ve been prediabetic since my early twenties. I suppose life isn’t black and white. I can accept myself as I am an make a real effort to exercise and eat better because it’s healthy and and makes me feel better. But there’s just something unsettling to me about putting aside my desire to be smaller. My entire life, losing weight — being smaller than however big I currently am — has been my most persistent goal, a constant shadowy companion in my life. To give that up seems like giving up a part of myself. An unhelpful and probably unhealthy part, but a part nonetheless. 

Today for the millionth time, I tried an exercise class. I have joined and quit so many gyms and exercise programs. This class was strength focused and the instructor was tiny and muscular with a long blonde ponytail and a peppy, can-do personality. Music was blaring, and our workout was accompanied by motivational commentary being shouted into a microphone. If someone invited a silent workout class, I would immediately sign up for that class. I would probably quit after a few sessions, but I like the idea, conceptually. But this is part of my problem. I find ways to be annoyed by the music or the instructor or the hardcore competitive fitness of my fellow classmates, and end up dropping out, even though my dropping out probably has nothing to do with anything but myself. It’s just an excuse to stop doing what I’m doing. Achieving better fitness would probably such a tiny fraction of my time, maybe four or five hours a week… I spend more time in the bathroom. If I really wanted to get in shape, I’d put aside these superficial dislikes and just do it. I’m not sure what’s behind my general unwillingness to work hard. 

This particular gym/program is $80 a month for unlimited classes. Realistically, I think I would do two classes a week, which comes out to $9 or $10 per class, depending on the month. The nice thing is that there’s no contract. You can quit any time. That takes some pressure off. This class wasn’t too bad despite all my complaints. It was a circuit workout so no one exercise lasted more than 60 seconds, and I felt good afterwards. I always do. It’s about 12 minutes from my house, and it seems like there are at least 20 class options a week I could make it to. I guess I will think about it a little longer before impulsively purchasing a monthly pass. Adult people do things they don’t like doing because it’s good for them. I have to remind myself of this. Not every moment in life is meant to be enjoyed and easy; sometimes you do hard things so your life is more enjoyable and easier in the long-run. So we’ll see. Maybe I’ll purchase a one month pass and see how it goes. One can always hope for change.