A Kind Friend and A Lovely Morning

 This morning, I sat on a mat in my neighbors' front garden. The sun tried to pierce through a leafy green tree and a slight breeze blew to cool us as Stella led me in meditation and yoga. 

A view from my run

It might not be for everyone, but the morning had been pretty perfect. It started with a 4-mile run, then a shower before I joined Stella for yoga. She lives in Copenhagen and I have only met her twice when she travels to France to the house next door to us. 

The Aude (L'Aude) is a lovely setting for running and meditating. 

Stella might think she is an unassuming, polite Danish person, but she is a force to be reckoned with. As soon as we met, she told me I needed to do yoga with her. I have dabbled in yoga, but it has never been my thing. I love running. I grudgingly carved out some time to do yoga with her in July but it became a habit that I enjoyed, but only when Stella is in town. 

Stella reminds me a bit of Phoebe from Friends. She lives life with gusto. During the 14th of July celebration downtown, Grace and I were dancing to the band and we had just wondered where Stella was when she "slid" into the crowd and joined us. Her dancing was exuberant and with abandon, like Phoebe's running. 

Stella is in it for the joy. 

I've learned a lot from her. 

I do feel my own kind of joy when I'm running (not like Phoebe!). But I've learned to find the peace in sitting on a yoga mat and feeling the breath move through my body. I'm not anxious about the time any more, and I know that is a luxury because my schedule is flexible (unlike my body when I'm doing yoga). 

So many times, when Stella isn't around though, I ask myself, "What would Stella do?" and my first answer is "Eat some cheese," but the second answer is "Take the time to be curious and to embrace life." So more and more, that's what I'm doing. 

A New Year Begins

Happy New Year!
This working life in the States is taking its toll on me, so I was in bed before midnight last night, but not until after a lovely dinner with some friends.
Even though I had taken the day off teaching, I woke up very early.
But I lay in bed leisurely scrolling through news stories and Facebook on my phone.
My friend Pam has a theory, a superstition, that whatever you're doing on the first day of the year, you'll continue to do throughout the year.
So, I took a nice 4-mile run in the 32-degree weather, through the streets where we used to live in Grandview Heights. It was definitely warmer than yesterday when a biting wind drove Sheila and me into a coffee shop where we could sit and chat.
But not today. I had to make my New Year's run.
While perusing Facebook earlier in the day, I'd see my friend Sally who works at the YMCA had invited everyone to a water fitness class on New Year's Day.
In for a penny, I figured I might as well go to water fitness class too. Sally said she was afraid only two people would show up, but I was not alone in wanting to start my day off with fitness.
There were 24 of us who showed up for the New Year's Day class.

I'm in the front center with a blue noodle. 

I hadn't taken a water fitness class for years and thought it wouldn't be challenging, but it was fun and I know my muscles will feel it tomorrow, especially the arm work lifting buoyant weights -- actually fighting to keep them underwater. The water in the Y's pool is always a lovely warm temperature and I loved being in the water again.

Fresh from an hour-long workout. 

Like Elizabeth Warren on the campaign stump, Sally took a selfie with each of us.
We move on from another housesit today. We've been challenged by the rambunctious puppy Molly, a sheepadoodle who galumphs throughout the house and doesn't know how her body moves yet.

Molly -- queen of the couch

We're going to stay with our friends through Grace's wedding.
Hope you all have begun the New Year in a way that brings you joy.

Latest Obsession

For my birthday, I received a Fitbit.
Now, everyone who reads my blog knows that I'm already a bit obsessive about exercising. I run, no matter the weather. I walk to the library, the coffee shop, the post office and sometimes even the grocery store. I also lift weights at the gym.
So maybe the Fitbit wasn't a good idea -- encouraging someone who already focuses a lot on exercise.
A fitbit starts out set at 10,000 steps, 5 miles, 30 minutes of exercise, 10 flights of steps, 2,100 calories.
Most mornings, I would hit 10,000 steps by 8 a.m. after my run. All the other goals I would surpass easily.
Eventually, I moved the steps up to 15,000.
Then the app on my phone got in the act. It started asking for 250 steps from 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. (You can set that for whatever time parameter  you want. I moved it up to 7 a.m. since I'm  usually active then.)
It got a little awkward when I'd be pacing around my classroom trying to get to 250 steps. Or I might be having a conversation with someone when I would suddenly jump up and say, "I have to get my 250 steps." Then I'd run outside to walk quickly before the hour changed over. At the end of the day, if all nine hours had
One Sunday, as we were headed to a family reunion, I took my Fitbit off. My wrist felt bare but I didn't want to run away in the middle of a conversation with an 80-year-old relative.
I forced myself to leave it off for two days, even though I itched to put it on and get my steps in.

When I went back to wearing my Fitbit, I realized it wouldn't charge. A piece on the back that clips in had come loose. I nearly panicked. How would I keep track of my exercise?
What could have been a disaster, became a very easy fix.
Fitbit exchanged a few emails with me and said they'd send me another one. It's even an upgrade.

Soon, I'll be able to resume my obsession with my steps. 

Grumpiness Arrives

I'll have to admit that I have felt a little proud of the fact that menopause has not turned me into a monster.
Yes, I gained weight, but over the past few months I've managed to lose 15 pounds so feel fairly healthy.
I have a hot flash every time I drink wine, so I rarely drink any more.
One bullet I thought I had dodged were the mood swings. Since I run four days a week, lift weights three days a week and walk with friends on other days, I credited exercise with helping me avoid screeching at my family and friends.
Yesterday, I ran five miles. Then I walked five miles with my friend Sheila. Then I walked two more miles with my husband as we went to vote and then get coffee. By 11 a.m., I'd gone 12 miles.
In spite of all the exercise, in the past few days though, my moods have taken a turn.

I chewed out a class on Monday when students were looking at their phones rather than listening to my lecture. I warned the next class ahead of time that pulling out their phones would result in ejection from class. They looked at me with fear!
Yesterday, a friend texted to remind me that another friend had a birthday. I felt irritated. I complained to Grace that the friend who texted me has a girl crush on our birthday friend. She follows her outside when she smokes. She switches tables to sit with her.
Was I jealous? Grace asked. Feeling left out?
I don't want that attention myself, but the keenness she lavishes bugs me. I think I'd rather avoid both of them. I might not go to the coffee house for writing group today so I can skip the celebration.
With all of these annoyances building up, you'd think I would have recognized the moodiness, but I still remained blissfully unaware, until a recent email.
Earlier this semester, a student sent a complaint about me. The lead teacher forwarded the email and I responded. The student had come into class late so I didn't let him take the quiz. He became angry and left the room, hitting his backpack against the wall. He said it wasn't anger, but an accident. This student complained about my "caustic rules" and the fact that I didn't let him take the quiz.

After explaining the situation to the lead teacher, I didn't hear back from her for a few weeks. Yesterday, she said the student just "wanted to be heard."
I should have left it at that, but I responded. I said that the English department had always had my back with rules about not accepting late work and I wanted to know what she had said to the student. She replied again that she just listened to the student.
Immediately, I wanted to protest. Did she commiserate with the student about mean old teachers and their stupid rules? She must have said something.
I considered responding. Talking to the chair of the department.
That's when I realized that moodiness had overtaken me.
I'd been juicing today, which meant no coffee, but lemon and ginger water for breakfast. Then I made a beet, sweet potato, apple and grape juice that I drank during my morning classes. By 10 a.m., I knew that I would need to get some coffee.
I stopped by the  book store between classes and ordered a white mocha -- with caffeine. I've been un-addicted to caffeine for years now, since I had surgery on my broken nose.
But caffeine might be a necessary step to avoid snapping at people.
And I might see my weight creep back up as I try to stay calm.
Any advice? Is caffeine and sugar my only hope?

The Power of Exercise

Warning, there may be TMI in this post; just a heads up.
I'm 51  years old, and this morning, I started my period, as I have every month since I was 10 years old, except for the times I was pregnant or nursing.
I realize that menopause  must be coming my way, but I feel like I've been able to hold it off by exercising.
I trained to run a marathon at age 39 but couldn't run it because of a torn ACL. I trained and ran the marathon at age 40, and I've been running regularly ever since.

Here I am after I fell rollerblading this summer. Not
hurt, just lucky not to have hit my head. Not all
exercise is a success, but I keep trying. 

So what evidence do I have that exercising is keeping me young? Only anecdotal.
This summer, I had a heel injury. First I cut back on running, then the doctor told me to "shut it down" and not to exercise at all. We didn't have a gym membership at the time, so I sat on my couch for a couple of months. During that time, I stopped having periods. In August when I started running again, I had two periods, as if to catch up with my sedentary months.
Running makes me feel better. I run 4 to 5 days per week, going 4 to 6 miles each time. Two other days a week, I meet my friend Pam at the YMCA where we lift weights and bicycle or swim. She has shared her wisdom with me that, "If you aren't in the gym during  your 50s, you're going to hate your 60s."
I don't want to find out. I plan to keep exercising.
In addition to keeping me young, I think running keeps me healthy. I go out in some pretty cold weather. On Saturday, the temperature was 19 degrees when I headed out. I held my phone in my hand and at 4.8 miles, my phone died. I thought the cold might have gotten to it since it was fully charged when I left.
This morning, with the temperature at a balmier 23 degrees, I tucked the phone into my water belt so that it stayed close to my body and whatever body heat I might be emanating. It lasted the full five miles today.

Runs allow me to see beautiful sunrises, like this one in
Florida when I visited my parents. 

So exercising is keeping me young, it's keeping me healthy, and it's keeping me sane. Whatever problems I may have, and with three young adult children, the problems do seem to pile up, but they are not as bad after I've gone for a long run. The run gives me time to mull over possibilities, and it delivers some lovely endorphins to assuage my worries.
And one more benefit to my morning exercise is that I get to commune with nature. That sounds hokey, doesn't it? But when I'm out on the streets in the dark and I look into the sky to see the twinkling stars or a cheshire grin of the moon, I can't help but smile. I often say out loud, "Oh, there you are!" to the moon when I glimpse it.
So, no matter what you choose to do, I urge you to get out there and start moving. Walking, biking, gardening, exercise classes, a gym membership, anything that gets your heart rate up and increases your aerobic activity, can be a benefit and help you stay young too.
So what do you think? TMI? Well, too bad, because pretty soon, I'm going to be writing again about the benefits of not wearing a bra. Stay tuned!

Fretful

Aaargh!
A month of not running culminate today in making me feel restless and unhappy.
I feel like I've overdosed on caffeine. Antsy. Unable to settle.
Everyone is making me irritated. I pace back and forth in the library parking lot talking on the phone to my best friend in faraway Michigan.
She listens to my litany of complaints. He did this... then he did that.
I know, deep down, that the problem is I haven't been able to run since Easter -- April 22.
I set my goal to run 40 days during Lent. And I did it. I ran over 100 miles in the first three weeks of April alone, ignoring the pain that started to build in my heel.
On Easter, I went for a short run. I decided to take a week off to let my foot heal.
The following Saturday, I ran five miles and felt fine, but the day after, the pain was worse than before.
I rested again, trying to run some mornings, but not making it farther than the corner before I turned around and limped home.

My running shoes are up on blocks now.

I go online to diagnose my injury. Could be my achilles tendon. I stretch in bed before getting up. I stretch against the wall. I stretch on the stairs. The pain does not improve. And it doesn't quite match the description of that first step in the morning being the most painful.
Sometimes I wake up at night with my foot in pain because I'm lying on that side and pushing against the side of my foot.
No, I haven't been to the doctor yet. I watch our medical spending account fly away for ridiculous costs that I hadn't expected, and I try not to spend any more on something that I feel sure will heal with just a little more rest.
I try new shoes.
I try old shoes.
I feel my body changing. When I rest my hands on my hips they feel loose and jiggly rather than tight muscle.
I hate it.
And now this, this nervous energy with no place to let it out.
I walk three miles this morning with my friend Sheila. That's the farthest I've walked in a while, but by mid-afternoon, my house full of adult children home for the summer, my husband home on vacation this week -- I feel an itching inside me that no fingernails could ever reach.
I have to run in the morning.
It doesn't matter how much my foot may hurt. That anxiety inside is worse.