I do it, and I do it big. Here's to not forgetting about it.

Archive for the ‘Epiphany’ Category

Nineteen: Killing a Queen

I’ve always been really proud of my teeth. Each time I go to the dentist, I come back with a clean report. “Still in the no cavity club! 33 years running!” I use an electric toothbrush, I floss like a champ, and thankfully I have never had to have my wisdom teeth removed. Queen of Dental Hygiene, if you will. I am sure you can imagine my chagrin when a few weeks ago, I was chewing and the left side of my mouth was hurting. I called the dentist as soon as I was able. I had figured that my lifelong run in the no cavity club was coming to a close, but I was wrong.

I would need a crown.

Apparently, crowns are quite common, but because I’ve had such a stellar record, I’ve never paid attention to different kinds of dental work. My dentist had the nerve to tell me that sometimes these things just happen to people as they get older.

white and gray cat lying on mossy ground

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

What an awful thing to say to someone. Not only am I going to need to shell out an unplanned sizable amount of my paycheck, but apparently I am aging as well? All this flossing and fluoride and technology is not preventing this? What is the bloody point?!

I spent the week before my appointment to get my temporary crown fearing what the procedure would be like. I didn’t anticipate feeling any physical pain, but I was very depressed about needing dental work. I sat in the chair, feeling like a drama queen as I asked the dentist one last time. “Are you absolutely sure that I need to do this?” He assured me that he thought this was the best path forward to prevent an eventual root canal and that there was evidence that I had somehow fractured my tooth. Yikes. He anesthetized me and I waited as I felt my mouth get tingly. Out came his drill and I found myself wishing I were under general anesthesia simply to escape my thoughts. I watched the particles of my tooth being sanded away and all I could think to myself was that this was the beginning of the end. My journey from ashes to ashes and dust to dust was starting with the number nineteen – my sad little molar that I thought was gonna make it with me to the finish line.

As we wrapped up, the hygienist left me with important instructions, noting that I would have the temporary in for three weeks instead of the normal two. Favor your right side. No hard or sticky foods. I remarked that this would be a Christmas miracle, indeed – eating less over the holidays. On the drive home, I thought to myself, maybe this is why people have children – in a futile attempt to try to counter our march toward death. Granted, we can’t stop it, but it is nice to have someone around who (Lord willing!) is a bit further away from it. Someone with all of their unmodified, natural teeth. Makes you think.

What else can I say? At least the queen has a crown now…

file-3

Advertisements

My Epiphany

One of my favorite things about joining the House of Adonis has been exploring Orthodoxy. I’ve enjoyed getting to know aspects of the Christian faith that aren’t typically emphasized in the Protestant tradition. Lol @ that oxymoron – Protestant tradition! I did that for you, Adonis. I had the most relaxing Christmas I have had in a long time, partly enabled by this devotional. I had never made the connection that the 12 days of Christmas are the time between Christmas and Epiphany. I guess for the past 32 years I’ve just been rocking out, figuring that the composer/lyricist thought that 12 was a good number to have. Heh. Anyway, it was an incredible relief to be reminded that Christmas is just the beginning of the celebration of Christ’s birth and not this incredible let down it has become in the world – party’s over, decorations down, family leaves. We’re doing it wrong, y’all. 

I was planning on doing something else wrong until my epiphany. Four years ago, I realized that the pursuit of a healthy weight is ongoing, but here I am again for the FOURTH time, despite all I discovered. I had been envisioning reaching a healthy weight again but completely denying it to anyone who asked. “Hey Joan, are you losing weight?” “No, but thanks!” It would be an effort to deny the fact that I messed up in the first place. It is embarrassing to me that I am here again. I can’t seem to get it together permanently. 

I had written that last time needed to be different than the other two times, and at first, I was mad because it seems like it wasn’t. After all, I gained weight in the same pattern – adjusting to a life transition. 1. College. 2. Grad School. 3. Full time work. Now 4. Marriage. The pattern may be the same but my wisdom is really different. I know I am not doing this because I hate how I look. I am doing this because I want my best life, and I can’t have my best life at an unhealthy weight. I have accepted that this may happen again, but each day I need to make good decisions for the body with which God has graced me. 

So, to anyone who asks – that’s right. I’m human and and I’m sexy and strong and wonderful RIGHT. NOW. Here’s to the blood work to match, sooner rather than later! 

Not gonna lie. “Gripping and intense” is how I feel waiting for my results. Gulp.

Sweet and Savory

Have I mentioned that I like food? 

I understand that there are many ways to abuse food, whether it’s eating emotionally, mindlessly, or purely in excess. I must say, however, that I (most likely wrongly) feel that it must be easier for some people than others to resist poor food choices. I remember my umbrage 40 pounds ago when it was suggested that I must not like certain food in order to look the way I did at the time. Hell no! I do think it is possible that some people are not interested in exploring many different types of food, or their eating is not particularly culturally significant to them. That being said, a steak and potatoes lover has her fair share of temptation to resist as does this sweet potato pie/jerk chicken/spanakopita loving girl. My food temptation portfolio is diverse – and growing. That’s all I’m saying here.

What’s funny is that my taste for different foods didn’t really begin developing until my first round of weight loss, when I started cooking different things. My weight roller coaster has been one long food tour, and I’ve loved it. No tour would be complete without pictures, right? A cursory glance through my desktop or phone would produce highlights of the tour – food and me, naturally. 

The pictures of food and the pictures of me share a lot. There are many types of food. There are also many types of Joan. Skinny, fat, toned, everywhere in between. You know what I am finally deciding every picture is? DELICIOUS. Dammit, the food is fabulous, and I am, too, regardless of my size. I am tired of putting off buying clothes for myself because I don’t deserve clothes at whatever size or I shouldn’t be a particular weight. Don’t get it twisted, y’all – I fully understand that I shouldn’t be trying to make my BMI match my age. That no longer means that I have to beat myself up at any given time for not being where is best for me. The best for me is healthy, from the inside out. And look at this ‘out’ – 

New Year’s Eve with Adonis


Adonis is lucky as hell to come home to this. Okay, fine, I am fortunate as well, but this ain’t his blog. I am choosing to savor where I am at this very moment and simultaneously choosing to do better. 

That, truly – is sweet. 

Slight Misunderestimation (sic. And sick!): Race Report

Evidently, training for a marathon has made me a stronger runner – who could have anticipated that, right? According to the same plan I used to train, I am now within striking distance of setting a half marathon PR. Obviously, that means I have to put in the time to make that happen. The training gods have set out a 9 mile long run for me on my 15 week path to glory. Me: “Let’s find a 15K! Free PR!” 
Having run a quarter marathon 3 weeks earlier and a full marathon 2 months ago, I thought to myself, ‘9 miles isn’t really that much! I’ll have a big bowl of oatmeal and I’ll hydrate along the course. I don’t need to take any gel with me!’ Sigh. I know you’re already shaking your head at me if you are an endurance athlete of any kind. Don’t get ahead of me, although I’ll be the first to admit that with insufficient fuel before and during the race that not getting ahead of me is no small feat. See what I did there? 

I showed up at the starting line feeling confident, nonetheless. The plan: an 11 minute mile pace. Approximately an hour and forty minutes of my life. No big deal. Within the first two miles of the race, I heard someone call my name. “Joanie?” I turned to see Sweetness, this cool chick who also comes to boot camp. I smiled as we caught and kept up with another (I did it again, see?). I told her I was trying to do an 11 minute mile, and she said that was cool. I groaned inwardly, not because running with Sweetness was lame but because I saw the 2 mile marker and was thinking, “Damn. It’s only been 2 miles?” Not a good sign. Hah! I wish I were as good at racing as I am at making witty puns. I digress. 

After about mile 4, I was tasting Sweetness’s candied dust. If only it had been caloric, because that was sure what I needed! As the race continued, my pace continued to slow. I had to switch to run/walk intervals, which I personally don’t frown upon as a matter of course, but I sure don’t like it when it’s a matter of poor planning! I am quite sure I looked like death because a man along the course saw me and said, “Keep going! You look great!” I needed it, though. I wasn’t actually dying, and let’s be real – I wasn’t getting back to my car unless I finished the race. 

I looked to my right and saw Tampa General Hospital. ‘I should check myself into the psych ward.’ I may be out of glycogen but dammit the wit is still here. I pressed on until I crossed the finish line, where Sweetness had been for God only knows how long. She thanked me for pacing her and I had to laugh. 

Finishing is always sweet.

Today’s lesson? 9.3 miles is not short, and it sure isn’t long enough to shed any weight. Eat up. 

Still booty-ful.

Bad Mother On The (Long) Run

“Giving birth would be AWESOME.” 

How did I get there, you ask? It only took me 8 miles. 

You see, I woke up feeling quite nervous about today’s long run, the first of my 16 weeks of marathon training. Generally speaking, I tend to get worked up about my workouts, because I want them to go well, but especially about my long runs. Am I ready for today’s journey? Indeed, each time I feel I am embarking to an unknown destination, despite the fact that I have run this particular distance -and longer – several times in the past. And you know what? Let’s be real. Every long run is different because I am different. How was my sleep? Nutrition? Stress level? Fitness? Hah, we’re about to find out if whoever I am this week is sufficient. 

Hurricane Hermine not only extended my weekend but also provided some lovely weather for today’s journey. If I could write a weather system a thank you note, I would. I was surprised that I had to actually slow down to run the pace in my plan. “Maybe I don’t suck!” Said I, after mile 1. “Too early to tell,” I retorted. “We are tight,” my legs squealed. “Shut up, we’ll be done eventually,” I said with a grimace. “You need to lose weight,” squeaked my running skort. “Tomorrow,” I said, crossing my fingers. 

I am pleased to report that on this day, I was able to outrun my negative thoughts and complete my long run, feeling strong. As I approached my car, I looked at my reflection in the window. I was drenched in sweat. I giggled and took the obligatory selfie. It dawned on me that I never view myself as more beautiful than when I finish a long run. My accomplishment makes me both glisten and glow. No makeup, no jewelry – just one foot in front of the other until it’s done. Naturally, the longer the run, the more beautiful I’ll be, I figure. So how could I NOT think to myself –

“I bet I would look GORGEOUS after giving birth!” 

Put one in the ‘pro’ column for (biological) motherhood, y’all. 

Only 1:39 of labor.

Unclenched: A Marriage Lesson

I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty sure I learned everything I need to know about marriage on the flight home from our honeymoon. 
It’s not exactly news that flying is not my favorite. Early in our relationship, I shared with Adonis that I looked forward to flying with him because I would be able to hold his hand when I got scared. Would you believe that he didn’t commit that to memory for use a year and a half later? Ugh, maybe I made a mistake…

I kid. I know it’s unreasonable to expect someone to remember everything that I find to be important, even as attentive as he is. And thus we come to –

Lesson One:  You will have to repeat yourself. 

Before I become frustrated, I need to remember the “plank in my own eye.” How often must I be reminded of things by colleagues, friends, and parents? And I GUESS I don’t have a 💯 track record of remembering everything Adonis tells me. I guess. 

Would you believe that all it took for Adonis to be supportive was saying “Hey, I don’t like this!” Just like that, he was working to distract me on our journey to our new life together. 

Our pilot had warned us from the beginning of the flight that the weather as we approached our destination would worsen. Read: that means I won’t have to say anything to Adonis and he will just know that I am frightened when I give the look. Right? 

Lesson Two: Don’t expect him to read your mind. 

Evidently, my looking at him and holding his hand doesn’t mean “I’m freaking out!” in every context. Who. Knew. The first time I felt any turbulence, I reached for his hand and looked at him. He smiled and looked out of the window.  “Babe. It’s bumpy,” I said. “If I take your hand in flight it’s not about love, but fear.” He laughed and reassured me that we were fine. 

There were few moments where our flight was perfectly smooth. It made it difficult for me to – well, unclench. You know what I mean. Each time I would take a full breath, I realized exactly how tense I was. We never experienced the scary drop or anything, but there were too many bumps for me to relax. I looked over at my husband, who was perfectly chill, watching Creed. How could he not feel what I’m feeling?  I thought.

Lesson Three: You did not marry your carbon copy. He’s not going to see things the way you do. 

I tried to be brave; to not reach for his hand as often as I felt compelled to do so. 

Lesson Four: You’re married now. You can’t pretend that you don’t need anyone anymore – the jig is up. Really. Up.

As the plane was landing, I saw that it was quite cloudy. I grimaced. “Okay. This is going to be bad,” said Adonis. He grabbed my hand. 

Lesson Five: You are likely to see eye to eye where it really counts.

We were finally below the clouds. I kissed my husband and looked down, where I saw the city of Orlando below. I finally felt comfortable enough to smile – the last 5 minutes of the flight. I spent an hour and 45 minutes fairly miserable because I dislike the bumps. 

Lesson Six: If you unclench just long enough, perhaps you will find the beauty – maybe even humor – in life’s turbulent moments. 

Here’s to a long life of enjoying the ride, no matter what it brings. 

  
 

Okay – The Honeymoon’s Over. 

The good old days.
2014, y’all.  PRs just seemed to drop from the freaking sky. I was cut and loving life, doing things I never had thought were possible. Maintaining weight loss. Running. Triathlon. Not dying doing any of those things. And then it happened. 
I grew.

Apparently, if you keep doing something, you don’t stay a beginner. This is where it gets tricky. I had anticipated my “fall from grace” in the year of my great accomplishment and wondered if I would enjoy racing anymore once it stopped being “easy.” I am thrilled – and relieved – to report that running and racing still make me very happy. Red Rocket and I are taking a break so I do not anticipate returning to triathlon in the near future, but it is NOT because I am scared of not accomplishing what I once did. I just don’t get enough pleasure for me to go through all the business at this present time. 

In 2015, the only races in which I achieved PRs were freebies – you know, a distance or event you’ve yet to do. Remember that time Adonis made me run a trail? Or that other time he made me climb over and crawl under stuff? That MUST mean the party is over, right? 

Don’t be silly. I am incredibly thankful that I have gotten some important lessons from racing that I have been able to apply to both my musical life (you don’t have to be the best to have a damned good time) and will apply to my married life (it’s not always going to be easy but that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun). 

Thank God the honeymoon is over. I now have the privilege of discovering how to be at peace, regardless of my circumstances. I STILL get to run and learn what my best is, now without the fear of what happens when I “fail.” Been there, run that! 

  

Tag Cloud