about getting from point A to point B in the most interesting ways possible

If you're a large woman in America, your whole life is an opportunity to feel self-conscious, embarrassed, resentful and way too big. You can hide in the corner or on the couch, you can go to therapy, or you can put on your lycra bike shorts and get out there and move.
—Jayne Williams, Slow Fat Triathlete

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January 7, 2005

sleepyhead permalink

Such a rainy, miserable day just makes me want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head. Maybe that explains why I overslept.

I walked about 25 minutes, waiting for the bus. I have all these new muscles that I'm finding, some of which I had no desire to find, but they are all making themselves known. That's good. Evidence of work done.

I did my pilates class again last night. I am certain that the instructor is physically present, but it seems mentally a million miles away. I guess I didn't sign up for a beginners pilate class or a reality-based pilates class, I just signed up to do the work twice a week. And I am.

The people watching is very interesting. As usual, I'm the fattest person there, that's fine. But there are a number of chubby women, which always pleases me. And then a couple women who look like they used to dance with the Oregon Ballet. (I really want to hate them, but I can't) There are even a couple men, who appear to have taken the class before.

I keep having these awful dreams, and I identified that the theme seems to be security or lack thereof. Last nights was being in a rental house that appeared to have locking doors and windows, but actually the locks didn't work. And of course, men were trying to get in. It was just me and Echo, and Echo couldn't be bothered to bark. Of course, I think I was trying to hide as well. I'm not sure I want to know what that means.

Tomorrow is the 30K walk, which hopefully will be outside, not in the rain, not on a gym treadmill or around my downstairs. (Though, gosh, the washroom availability inside is superb). I feel like such a faker. I suppose it would do me some good to walk in the rain, because, who knows, sooner or later I will have to race in the rain. But it doesn't mean I have to like it.

Oh, and no snow. Dammit!

Sara commented about Adrienne Salinger's book, Living Solo. One of the profiles does substantial walks within his house—which made me think of Richard, who started his trek towards running by walking around his house. I believe he lost a pile of weight that way too.

Posted at January 7, 2005

Comments

I think walking in the rain can be quite lovely, but not in winter. That just sounds cold and miserable.

The best run of my life was during a sudden spring downpour. I had only been running for a few months and, or the first time in, I felt truly committed to exercise and was so proud of myself for not heading indoors at the first drops.

Your dreams sound distressing...I hope whatever is causing them gets resolved.

Posted by: Megan at January 7, 2005 12:01 PM

At first, I had a weird aversion to running in the rain. It just seemed crazy to go outside and spend time not avoiding getting wet :) Once I did it, I actually really enjoyed it. Now the weather is the least of my deterrents.

But the reality is, however you get your walking in is great cause you know you'll feel wholly better for it!

Posted by: Lara at January 9, 2005 5:21 AM