An Early Morning

My husband was a little noisier than usual this morning when he left the house around 530 AM. It was just enough extra activity to roust me from my slumber, and I laid in bed thinking to myself it was way too early to get moving. If I closed my eyes, I should have a least another hour of sleep ahead of me. I tried to doze off again, but just as I was about to drift away, I had a flash. Chuck and I had made plans to meet friends for dinner downtown. There would be no time to fit in a work-out after work. I actually needed to get up and get moving if I wanted to fit one in today.

I continued laying there as I struggled with the inner debate...sleep a little longer...stick to my goals...sleep a little longer...stick to my goals. I peeled back the blankets and sat up. There really was no going back to sleep at this point anyway, my guilt would see to that! I slowly got up, pulled on my work-out clothes and headed out the door to my car. It was going to be a gym day.

I drove into the parking lot and looked around. There were a few cars over by the bloom, but not a single one in front of the gym. I had never been to the gym this early before, so I hadn't known what to expect. Apparently there were plenty of people like me who avoided work-outs first thing in the morning. When I entered the gym, it was completely empty and I was the only one there.

I have to admit, while I had often thought I would enjoy the freedom of working out in a  gym without any eyes surveying my progress, a completely empty gym was slightly unnerving. What happened if I suddenly keeled over from a heart attack or perhaps pulled a klutzy moment, fell off the treadmill and broke my leg? Farfetched perhaps, but still....I put my things away and headed to the treadmill. Just as I was hopping on, I heard the sound of the door opening and another patron entering. God must have been a little concerned too.

It turned out that I was just ahead of the morning crowd. By the time I finished my morning run, the gym was bustling with activity and any unease had given way to a sense of accomplishment for not only making it to the gym that morning, but managing to run yet a little farther than the time before. Turned out working out early in the morning wasn't so bad even though I didn't honestly think I would be making it a habit!

Communing with Nature

I said goodbye to my friend this morning and watched her drive off to Huntsville AL to start the next phase of her life. I was going to miss her, but I knew we still had more adventures ahead of us. So instead of letting it ruin my day, I wiped the tears away and headed to the shower to get ready for work. One goodbye down, one more to go. 

I followed with a productive day at work, and when I got home decided that nature was calling me. It wasn't too hot, there was a slight breeze in the air and the sky was a vivid blue. It was definitely an outdoor day. I had learned my lesson from previous walks this summer, however, so before heading out, I chugged a bottle of water. I did not want to get to the other side of the neighborhood only to discover it was hotter than I imagined it to be and find myself struggling to get home, because I was dehydrated. 

I headed out the door and turned to the left. I found I liked to alternate departure routes to keep the walks more interesting. Now that I was walking fairly regularly outside, the enjoyment of seeing the neighborhood children at play, manicured lawns or blossoming bushes wasn't quite as interesting as it had been after months of winter hibernation, but I still found it more interesting than the scenery that a treadmill provided. 

I pushed myself to walk at a pace just below a jog. I was trying to work up to running outside, but knew I wasn't quite there yet. The treadmill provided a soft landing, and I knew sidewalks and roads would provide another level of difficulty I had to work up to. I wound up and down the neighborhood streets and ended up on the backside of the neighborhood. I decided to head off the main roads and hit the walking path that edged the forest. 

I had only gone just a slight way when I realized that the bottle of water I had chugged had managed to make it all the way through me. I was going to have to slow my pace just a little for fear of "leakage". What to do? I was a long way from the house and wasn't particularly close to any of my friends houses. As I pondered my situation I had a vision of my husband telling me multiple times about instances where he had to pull off into the woods midway through a run to relieve himself. Somehow I never imagined I would be in that predicament. In fact, I was fairly sure I had even thought those exact words to myself many times as he relayed his stories; yet here I was actually considering the possibility of communing with nature in a way that I had not imagined when I left the house thirty minutes earlier. 

I considered how far it was to my nearest friend's house, and thought for at least another few steps that I might be able to make it there. Finally the urge was just too great; nature was calling and so was the nearest bush. As I headed home, I thought to myself that apparently there still were some firsts waiting to surprise me on this journey after all.  I'm just not quite sure ducking behind a bush was the kind of first I would count as a milestone. 

Family Traditions

My husband and I took a ride out to Front Royal yesterday to look at properties. We are contemplating getting a place in the mountains as a get-away retreat, a place to gather family and friends and a place to carry on family traditions. My husband grew up spending family vacations at his Aunt and Uncle's cabin in the mountains. It was a place he equated with outdoor adventures, childhood memories and large family gatherings. When we were dating, he spoke of it often, so when he invited me to join him there for my first Christmas, I knew it held a special significance. We were engaged by the end of the trip.

After Chuck's father passed away unexpectedly a few years after we were married, the whole family reunited at the cabin for our first Christmas with out him. It was also Charlie's first Christmas and she spent it nestled in a blanket drawer each night in place of a crib. When Chuck was deployed to Korea several years later, I moved into the cabin and raised my family there free from the pressures of a traditional home near an army installation. Over the years, the cabin provided an inexpensive vacation destination, a family gathering point, a home and a haven. But as everyone's lives got busier, and the trips to the cabin became fewer and fewer, it fell into disrepair, and the family began contemplating letting it go. It was our turn now to find our "cabin in the mountains" with the hope that it would some day provide the same kind of gathering point for our children and their families that the cabin had provided for us over the years.

We spent a better part of the day visiting different properties and trying to get a sense of what areas we would be most interested in. There was way too much to look at, and by the time we got back to the house,  my head was spinning with property listings. The truth was I was still a little sad at the thought of losing the cabin. It was filled with memories. We even considered the possibility of purchasing it for ourselves, but realistically we knew the to-do list was too long. We had toyed with the option of taking down the old and rebuilding something new, but if we took the emotions out of the decision, and made it from a strictly fiscal standpoint, the more sensible decision was to move on and find something new. I decided that the perfect way to slow my mind down would be a trip to the gym. I generally didn't like to work-out on Sundays, but it seemed like it could serve two purposes; not only would it be a great way to start my fitness week out on the right foot, but it would allow my thoughts to settle.

It was an elliptical day, so I tried to zone out by plugging into the TV. It worked for awhile, but my mind continued to wander. At some point towards the end of my routine, one of my daughter's friends came in with his Dad to work out. They were regulars at the gym, and I ran into them often. They had their own family tradition. They worked out together, and you could see that it was something that was rewarding to both of them. It occurred to me as I watched them together that I wished I had figured out how to lead this healthier lifestyle when I was much younger, so I could have passed it along to my children before they had developed their own bad habits.  It would have been great to work-out with my daughters, but it would be greater to know that they would face fewer of the health challenges that I have faced, because they were healthier individuals to begin with.

As I left the gym and headed home, it occurred to me it was never too late to start a new family tradition. After all I was my youngest daughter's age when I went to the cabin for the first time and nearly thirty years later it had left such an impression that I was looking for my own cabin in the woods. I might not be in a position to work out regularly with my daughters any more, but perhaps this cabin would not only be a place to gather friends and family for holidays and vacations, but it could also be a place to share long walks in the woods and Bare Naked Granola for breakfast too.

New Beginnings

After much introspection yesterday, I decided I needed to kickstart my efforts again in a big way, so I called my husband and broke a date to attend his co-worker's retirement ceremony. Instead I decided I would go the gym. The truth was I hadn't been to the gym since Monday, and when I had woken up that morning, I had actually debated trying to get in a walk before heading to work. I knew I would not have time at the end of the day, because of our plans, but instead of jumping up and putting on my running shoes, I let myself get caught up in e-mails instead. If I didn't change my plans and hit the gym, I would be on a three day hiatus from my quest. More importantly I would have allowed myself to slide back into old habits of prioritizing everything else higher than my health.

Joel's phone call woke me to my reverie, and I knew that I needed to make a new beginning. So I set the reminder on my computer for my exercise breaks again; I started batting ideas around in my head for my next blog, and I planned out what I would do at the gym that day. I was consciously trying to shift my focus again.

The trip to the gym went pretty well. I alternated between walking and running for forty five minutes then headed to the weight section to work on my bi-ceps and triceps. I felt pretty good about my performance if I didn't count the minor contusion on my leg from tripping and stumbling into a weight bar. There was a slightly awkward moment as the nearest gym rat debated whether or not he should ignore the gaffe or see if I was OK, but I quickly grabbed the tri-cep pull down bar, and pretended that all was fine while I secretly winced inside. The truth was I've had multiple tripping moments in the gym since this started, and I'm pretty good now at owning my klutziness. It wasn't my best work-out or my worst either; but I left the gym feeling that I had hit another milestone. I had stepped away from the danger zone, and slowed my trip down the slippery slope that leads to defeat.

Danger Zone...

I received a phone call this morning from a good friend and blog follower. "Are you OK?," he asked. "I'm great!" I replied. He proceeded to tell me that he was worried, because I hadn't written in awhile, and he thought that might mean something was wrong. I paused for a moment and thought to myself, "It has been awhile since I've written!"  I went on to say that everything was going fine, and explained I just had let myself get caught up in life. As I recounted the varying reasons for my week long lapse since I had last posted, it occurred to me that I was in the danger zone.

I had become complacent, and that was leading to a loss of focus. The truth was my friend was right to call and ask the question. My writing has become a barometer for where my life is. I was still on the journey, but I was wandering from the path. I was pushing myself one day .....my most recent milestone, 4.5 miles on the elliptical in an hour (a pretty big accomplishment since I could barely manage to make thirty minutes on the elliptical when I first started this journey), but then taking two days off. I was skipping daily fitness breaks at work when I would get consumed by a project, allowing my puppy to dictate my work-out schedule as I had done with my children in my not so successful days, and I had invited french fries back into my life multiple times in the last few weeks! I would share a great blog moment, but then follow with days of silence.

Clearly it was time to re-energize myself and re-energize this journey. I didn't start this for it to become just another one of my attempts at getting fit; I started this to make it a lifestyle change for my lifetime. In the beginning it was easy to stay motivated because everything was new. I was hitting milestones everyday, and the successes were feeding off of each other, but after almost six months on this quest, my routine has become too routine. I'm at that point on the treadmill where you find yourself checking the time over and over again to see how much longer you have left. You know you have to keep going, but you are trying to find anything to distract you from what you are actually doing.

So what do I do now? How do I shake up this journey, and find the interesting in the ordinary? Or perhaps the point now isn't about finding the interesting in the ordinary, but the resolve to keep going when it isn't interesting any more. Somehow I believe the key to success lies somewhere between the two, finding ways to keep things challenging while at the same time resolving to stay the course when things aren't new and intriguing. So thank you Joel for caring enough to set me back on my path. I guess I really outsmarted myself when I created this village!

Only Twelve More to Go.....

A few months ago, one of my friends and blog followers surprised me with an invitation to join a Triathalon team he belonged to. I was frankly shocked, because no one had ever asked me to do anything like that before. I was always the last one picked for a team in school, and as an adult, things hadn't really changed much. When we formed a neighborhood kick ball team a few years ago, even my husband was convinced that I would somehow injure myself if I attempted to play, so I was relegated to designated scorekeeper. Yet here I was 46 years old, and getting an invitation to join not just any team, a team of triathletes.

Chris went on to explain that the group was as much social as competitive, and comprised of all different levels of athletes who had joined simply because they enjoyed the sport. He even told me about one person who joined and had never swam before, but learned to swim over time as part of the training. After following my efforts, he thought I might really enjoy training with the group and trying something new. 

I pondered the idea, but was frankly intimidated at the thought. I was definitely working out more, but I was only speed walking...not running, biking only occasionally and certainly hadn't swam laps in years. This was probably a bridge too far, so I pushed the idea away as something to consider at a later date. Not too long after that another friend invited me to join her in the Princess Half Marathon in Florida in 2012. Once again while the invitation was intriguing, the idea was still really intimidating to me as well.  I wasn't even completely sure I could overcome my physical challenges to be able to run, much less run for 13 miles. 

Needless to say, for some reason as I left for the gym today, both of these invitations started rolling around in my head again, but the idea of committing to something with an expectation of performance was still pretty far out of my comfort zone. I still had that fear of failure whispering in the background, and I wasn't sure I should be trying to set goals that seemed so unreachable. But then I thought to myself, "When I started this blog, the goal that I could commit to maintain a healthier lifestyle and stick with it beyond a month seemed fairly unreachable too, and now I was five months into it and still going strong." 

So you may be waiting for my to say that I have decided to take the plunge and accept at least one of these invitations, but I have to be honest, I am still not sure that I am ready to join a team or commit to the half marathon just yet. But today I took my first step towards positioning myself to be able to say "Yes" in the future. I upgraded from walking to running. I ran my entire first mile today instead of simply speed walking. Baby steps... now only twelve more to go!

The Golden Nugget

I did something new on Sunday. I went to church by myself. I have to admit, even as I was heading out the door I was wavering about going. There are still certain things I just feel more comfortable doing with a companion...going to a restaurant, going to a movie, going to church. I am sure the fact I was married so young plays into that. I met my husband on a high school youth group trip to the Bahamas when I was sixteen. He was one of the chaperones, and while I am sure God saw the irony in a college sophomore acting in that capacity, he clearly played a hand in it as well, as we ended up marrying just shy of my twentieth birthday and have been happily married ever since. Needless to say, I went from attending church with my parents as a child, to attending church with my friends while in high school, to attending church with my  husband and children as an adult, so the thought of attending church alone was a little intimidating to me.

I managed to overcame my momentary insecurities, however, and headed to the church we've been attending now since I decided to kick start my spiritual journey as part of this quest. I parked the car, walked inside and headed to the back pew. I was still self-conscious enough that I didn't want to sit up front. The service began with a medley of contemporary songs, and I found myself tapping my toes and swaying slightly to the music. Before I knew it that slightly uncomfortable feeling had passed.

The minister got up to give his sermon, and I listened carefully. I had this feeling he would be speaking to me. I had stepped out of my comfort zone to get myself to church; the sermon was sure to hold extra significance. He told several entertaining stories, and I found myself waiting, waiting for what he said to make that significant impact, waiting for the "Aha" moment when my mind clicked and said, "Here it is ...The Golden Nugget!" 

The pastor was very entertaining and made several impressive points, but I wasn't managing to tie everything together. He compared us to vessels filled with water. He spoke about letting God know that we were ready to be used in his service so we could "pour out" his blessings. He explained that we might not understand how the things in our lives, good and bad, could serve God's purpose, but we needed to trust that they would. He went on to say that worrying served no purpose. Finally at the end, he asked us to join him in an exercise holding out our hands as if to accept something, then acknowledging that we trusted in God and asking him to use us for his service. I didn't really understand how the sermon wove together, but I did understand the exercise.  I was looking to reboot my spiritual life. This was a beginning.

I went home after the service and went about the rest of my day. I worked in the house organizing cabinets, drawers and closets. My husband returned from his trip and we enjoyed a quiet evening together. I went through the day with a lightness of heart. I still had all of the same concerns and stressors, but for some reason, they just weren't weighing me down. I carried that sense of ease with me into the next day and through most of the next one too. Then I encountered a situation where I could feel the natural inclination for worry and concern to take hold. I started to feel my anxiety wind up, but as I  thought back to Sunday's exercise, the calm returned. I may not have understood that day how the sermon wove together, but in the bits and pieces I took away, I had found my golden nugget. I was "pouring out" my worries and allowing myself instead to be filled with the faith that everything would work out as it should, and this faith was in turn allowing me to "pour out" my story.  It was the "Aha" moment I had been waiting for. 

Empty Nests and Puppy Guilt

Zeus looking well adjusted in his new home

My youngest daughter packed up her bags and headed back to school yesterday with one of our dogs in tow. She was moving into a pet friendly studio apartment and "needed" her puppy to keep her company. The truth was Zeus had always been Chelsey's dog from the day he moved in with us. He had slept in her room nearly every night since she was in fourth grade and only grudgingly moved into our room when she left for college. So when the idea first came up, it wasn't really a tough decision. Zeus would be happiest where ever Chelsey was. The only concern was our youngest dog. He didn't know what it was like to be an "only" dog. He had always lived with Zeus.

So yesterday, when I arrived home after being away for most of the day, I decided that it just didn't feel right leaving again to go to the gym. It was Hines' first day by himself, and I felt like I needed to spend some time with him. So instead of my evening work-out, I tossed toys for him to chase, brushed his hair and played tug-of war. Despite my best efforts though, he knew something wasn't right. When it came time to retire, instead of following me up the stairs to my room as he would normally do, he stopped on the top landing and laid watch. Finally around midnight and the onset of a fierce thunderstorm, he left his post and hopped up to sleep at my feet.

Tonight when I returned home, I felt that same concern from the night before.  Hines had been alone for a long period of time. I really wanted to go the gym for my regular work-out, but I had also made dinner plans with friends. If I did both, Hines would be alone for well over twelve hours. Not only was he used to Zeus being around, but he had gotten used to Chelsey and her friends being around again. He had spent very little time alone in the last six weeks. My "Puppy Guilt" and my "Work-out Guilt" were at war.  I wasn't sure what I should do, and then I had a flash.

I grabbed Hines leash. I would take him for a walk. We could spend the time together, and I could still get a little exercise in. We turned right out of my house and headed to the back paths at a pretty decent clip. He was pretty excited to actually be leaving with me this time, and he raced along ahead of me clearly happy to be included in my outing. I was smiling to myself pleased that I had found a way to appease my guilt.

Hines sleeping while I write

Things didn't go quite as smoothly I envisioned. There were multiple diversions along the way as Hines either stopped to sniff some fascinating scent or  switched directions to chase a squirrel, but despite his meanderings, I still managed to work up a film of perspiration on our outing. When we returned from the walk, I realized I still  had plenty of time to fit in some exercises.  I grabbed a chew bone from the pantry, tossed it to Hines to keep him busy and then headed in search of our 10 LB dumbbells. I began with multiple sets of Bicep exercises and ended about twenty minutes later with my usual Ab routine.

The "guilts" were gone and I could enjoy my dinner. Whether the walk wore Hines out or the extra time and attention finally started paying off, when I  returned home and headed upstairs for the evening, instead of laying wait on the landing as he had done the night before, he grabbed his ball and followed me into our room again. Perhaps he would handle this better than I expected after all. Perhaps I would too.

Patience is a Virtue...Not!

I woke up yesterday morning, rolled over and the room began spinning.  It was not the way I had hoped to start my morning, but I told myself it was probably just a symptom that my allergies were in full spring. I waited for the spinning to slow and then headed downstairs to take a Claritin. An hour or so later, I started to feel a little better, so I headed into work. That lasted for about thirty more minutes, and then things started heading south again. It finally dawned on me that the problem was not my allergies, but my whacky GI system playing a little havoc with the rest of my body.

The good news was, because I had not felt that way in such a long time, I did not recognize the symptoms right away. The bad news was I felt like crap, and it was pissing me off. I liked the new me, full of energy, focused on fitness and able...able to participate, able to push myself, able to overcome. Feeling bad just didn't fit into my new equation anymore.

There was a time when I had perfected the art of being a good patient. I cloaked my frustrations in patience as I moved from doctor to doctor seeking answers to seemingly unanswerable questions. It was my go to survival skill that carried me through months and months of ill health. I prided myself in my ability to accept my circumstances while still managing to find joy in living in what would seem like untenable circumstances to most. But as the years passed and I had to pull it out more and more often, I must have depleted my supplies, because yesterday my patience ran out. I simply didn't want to feel bad again. Not for an hour, not for a day or not for several days. I was ready to be off that roller coaster ride.

The truth was I had needed "patience to be my virtue" during those lost years, but I did not need it to be now. If I allowed myself to become complacent with my injuries or ailments, I feared I could easily get sidelined into old habits and lose everything I had been working so hard for. While a part of me recognizes that a few bad days out of a slew of really great days is something to be thankful for, there is another voice in me that says, that simply isn't good enough anymore.

If I am to succeed with this journey, I think my focus needs to change. So instead of simply being content with the good days, I am allowing myself to be impatient with the bad ones too. Perhaps impatience will be the impetus that keeps me moving forward through the trouble spots this time.

The Klutzy Queen...

Yesterday I came home to an empty house, but instead of heading to the gym as I had originally planned, I decided to play hooky. It was a beautiful afternoon, and my back deck was calling me. I told myself I could fit in my last work-out for the week in the morning. Everyone deserved a day to play hooky once in awhile.

I headed to my back deck, and stretched out on the chaise lounge letting the sun beat on my face. About twenty minutes later my hubby called. He had invited our friend's over for dinner and DVDs. Quiet time was over, better hop up and get moving. I needed to hit the store if we were going to have something to feed everyone. I corralled the dogs into the kitchen while at the same time calling our friends to coordinate the menu. I should have learned from my debacle with the golf cart this past weekend that talking on the phone while trying to do something else was a bad formula for me, but apparently I am a slow learner.  As I struggled to step over the dog gate with my phone to my ear, I snagged my foot on the top edge of the enclosure and sent myself and my phone flying.

My initial concern was for my phone, and I quickly snagged it up for inspection. It seemed to be OK, so I headed out the door to the store. As I moved up and down the aisles of Target  picking up items for the evening, however, I started noticing multiple aches and pains. Apparently, I had managed to do some damage.... just not to my Blackberry! After a little further examination, I realized I had scratched my foot from where I dragged it across the top of the gate.  My knee felt a little banged up, and  I was starting to get twinges up and down the right side of my back. I finished my shopping and headed back to the car. I'm still not quite sure what happened next, but as I began loading the groceries into the back seat of my car, I stumbled again. I lurched forward and caught the top of mouth against the bottom edge of the door frame. The impact was hard enough to rattle my teeth and cause a split along the top edge of my lip which immediately started bleeding.  Perhaps God was trying to send me a message...I should have been working out!

By the time my friends arrived, I had managed to get dinner going, but I am sure I was quite the sight hobbling around the kitchen sporting a fat lip. When I woke Saturday morning, I was still feeling the effects of my fall and though my back had improved slightly, I knew that a trip to the gym would set me back for days. I spent the morning grouching at my husband until he eventually got smart and retired to the outside leaving me inside to mope. At some point, however, I decided it was time to stop feeling sorry for myself, so I could enjoy the rest of the weekend. The moral of the story is "If you are on a quest to get healthy, work-out when you are able, it only takes one visit from the Klutzy queen to derail the best laid plans." 

Spiderwebs and For Sale Signs....

 My alarm went off at O-dark thirty this morning, and I struggled to convince myself to get out of bed. I knew I needed to hop up and get myself going. I had decided I needed to fit in a morning walk before work, because our dinner plans downtown would preclude an evening trip to the gym. If I didn't hit the pavement soon, however, I would definitely miss my window of opportunity for the day.

It took fifteen minutes to motivate myself, but I finally rolled out of bed, threw on my work-out clothes and headed out the door. I decided to head to the paths that skirted the neighborhood and wove their way along the edge of the forest that abutted us. This probably would have been a great idea later in the morning, but it was still early enough in the day that the spiderwebs that had been spun the night before amongst the low lying tree branches had not been disturbed yet. That was the case, at least, until I managed to walk right through them.  I'm sure I was quite the sight as I raced up the path trying to pull off the threads of the webs that were clinging to me with one hand while I swatted away at the imagined spiders crawling through my hair with the other one.

I left the paths and headed back to the spiderweb free streets of my neighborhood.  I surveyed the houses as I walked along. This one had the prettiest Hydrangea bush. That one needed some love and care. The one with the red shutters had the greenest grass! And then I came upon the "For Sale" sign in front of my good friend's home. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. I had walked passed this sign multiple times already this month, but for some reason this morning, it brought tears to my eyes.

This would be a summer of change. Two sets of our good friends were moving away. Even though we had spent much of our lives as military nomads who had mastered the art of saying adieus, it somehow felt different this time around. Perhaps because we were retired now, I had imagined that meant we were done having to say Goodbyes. More likely I knew because we were all retired or nearing retirement, running into each other at another duty station was no longer a hope we could cling to to ease the difficulty of moving on.

As I headed back towards my home, and I tried to shake off the sudden sadness that had seeped into my morning, I reminded myself that these weren't just military friends, they were military family. We had seen each other through illnesses and deaths, 9/11 and subsequent deployments, promotions, graduations, celebrations and more. We had laughed together, cried together, and made lifelong memories together. Our zip codes wouldn't define our relationships; our past had already done that for us. So to the Lieb's and The Garrison's....we will miss you with all of hearts, but are so very excited for you as you embark on your next adventure.  To the Hurley's and The Chaney's, we are so thankful that you are still near! For all of you, the challenge is on now for us to plan the first awesome reunion!

Long Walks, Velociraptors and Running my Husband over with a Golf Cart....

I returned from my holiday weekend in Myrtle Beach wishing I could press the rewind button and start all over again. It was not that I was looking for a redo, in fact it was quite the opposite. I just wanted to find a way to extend the fun. I had spent the weekend soaking up the sun, taking long walks on the beach with my hubby, exploring new neighborhoods and reacquainting myself with my golf game. It had been the perfect prescription for washing away the stress from the last two months. 

Thank You Marriott Points

We started every morning with a long speed walk up and down the beach. This was our way of easing the guilt about some of the other choices we were making that weren't quite so healthy. It took only one walk for me to realize that speed walking on the beach was a completely different animal than walking on either the treadmill, sidewalks or streets. Things weren't level, so I found myself struggling to keep from tripping over unexpected dips in the terrain. The walking surface fluctuated from hard to soft to hard again which resulted in continual changes of pace and played havoc with my lower back. After a frustrating first walk, I tried a different tactic and removed my shoes for my next walk. While it didn't seem to make sense, I had much better success walking the beach in my bare feet.

Saturday afternoon we opted to hit the golf course instead of the beach. It was my first time golfing since well before my surgery, and I was anxious to see if I had lost the skills I had begun developing before I was forced to stop playing. I had only newly discovered the game of golf shortly before I started having my health problems, so I had only made small strides towards improving my game. Even the small strides had seemed a great accomplishment at the time, however, and I was really hoping I wouldn't find myself back to square one.

The first drive was encouraging. I hit the ball both straight and relatively far. The next few hits weren't quite as fruitful, but considering it had been over a year since I had played, I still felt pretty good about the way things were going. That is until my husband asked me why I had grabbed my pitching wedge instead of my putter to sink the last shot. I tried to play it off, but in the end finally had to confess that I had grabbed the club because it was marked with a "P". I knew something was not quite right when I grabbed it, but it wasn't until Chuck pointed it out that I had my "Aha" moment...the "P" was for "Pitching Wedge" not "Putter." 

I tried hard to redeem myself on the next few holes and was pleasantly surprised that my drives had actually improved significantly. Unfortunately my chipping and putting had suffered quite a bit in the absence of any regular practice, and after overshooting the holes multiple times,  Chuck lovingly dubbed me "Velociraptor". Surprisingly enough, the low point of the afternoon was still ahead of me, however.

We had just pulled up to the sixth hole and had a wait in front of us before we could actually tee off. I decided to use the break to quickly return a call. Meanwhile, Chuck had stepped out of the driver's side of the cart to get a bottle of water from the cooler. Just as he started to sit back down, I noticed the cart beginning to roll down the hill. I reached over with my left foot to hit the brake while trying to continue the conversation on my cell phone. Much to Chuck's chagrin, I missed and hit the accelerator instead. The cart lunged forward knocking him from his seat. I am sure at that moment it must have taken every ounce of his patience not to ask me to return to the clubhouse and quit the game forever.

Seventh Hole Heaven

 Needless to say, my sixth hole didn't go so well. I was fretting over nearly maiming my husband and was beginning to feel discouraged as well. Finally, on the seventh hole, it happened. I had my golf moment. That one hole in the game where everything comes together and the magic happens. I hit a line drive over the water and landed on the green in the first shot. It would be my best hole of the day and it was enough to remind me why I loved the game. It really didn't matter how many holes went badly, it only took one good hole to make me feel like a champion again.

 My weekend was over and I couldn't press rewind to start again, but I could look ahead to the next weekend. I might not be able to have the beach under my feet, but I definitely saw a game of golf calling my name.