Let me just say that I hate the word (and the band) journey. I have been a massage therapist for nearly 15 years and that word gets thrown around too much. The other words that I can’t stand (as far as new age crap goes) are “mission”, “healing”, “cure” and “feelings”. With all that said, here is my story.
In December, I had set a goal of running a mile by my 47th birthday. My friend had recruited me as a challenge and I took the challenge because after all, how hard could it be? Let me preface this by saying that I have set goals my whole life (as far as weight and exercise go) and have NEVER reached one of them. I have failed at all of it. I have been a diet since I was 10 years old and have starved, sweated, binged, purged and hated the way I looked my whole life. The only exception to that is my face. I have always felt I have a good face. Now, however, I feel I have a huge good face. I was told by Capri to watch what I say around my daughter because, “she will pick up on that shit and you will have to deal with her crazy and you’re crazy.” I take almost all of Capri’s advice as she is not only my soul mate but I hate to hear “I told you so.”
When I announced my goal, I got a lot of “good for you”. I know of at least three women that said behind my back that I was too fat to run. I hate to say this but I am beginning to believe they are correct. I have been plagued with annoying little injuries since that day in December. I have been sore (which I can handle), then I got a horrible sinus infection. In January, my plantar fasciitis came back. I tried to run through it. No such luck. In February I went and got a cortisone shot and the Dr said to me to consider doing something else. He also told me to stay away from any impact workouts. Here is the thing: I really wanted this. Not only did I want it, I really liked running.
I write this as I lay with my leg elevated with ice on my ankle, knee and the back of my knee. I am really kind of sad and mad at myself. I was at dinner the other night with 3b and I was looking out the window of the restaurant as I watched a couple run past. I thought to myself that it should be that easy. You push off with one foot and then the other and you do this fast and with a certain amount of breath and you just go. Why is it easy for them? Did I spend my whole life on my ass exercising snarky comments and my better than you attitude? Did my ego get in the way of me succeeding at everything? Am I just plain lazy and underachieving? Then answer I came up with is a rousing YES!!! I did everything I could to get outta gym in high school including having my mother call the vice principal’s mother and have her tell her son that I didn’t have to swim. True story. That is how shit worked in South Troy before it became the new Brooklyn. I avoided exercise by just starving myself throughout my 20’s and early 30’s. In my 40’s the only time I lost weight was when my girl’s father and I broke up. Now I find something I like and my body tells me no.
What I have decided to do is to not set goals as I am the type of girl that hates goals. I will not set another one. I am done, done, done. When my leg feels better I will walk. I like walking and I may not go fast or far but at least it is something. I will not watch Dr. Oz, the Doctors, or Sanja Gupta. I will continue to avoid miracle supplements, oils, liniments, crystals, rocks elixirs and infomercials. I will stick to the Young and the Restless, Shahs of Sunset, Mob Wives, WWE, Survivorman (a show I dislike but love to watch it with 3b and listen to him speak of how when the apocalypse happens he will be able to make fire) and Housewives of where ever. I will not use the words “journey”, “mission” “cure” and most of all, “feelings”. These are not goals as much as they are manifestos. My manifesto of crap. I like the sound of that.