I was at work a few weeks ago and decided to take a walk around the mall. It is an outdoor mall with a wide 'avenue' in between the shop facades. I stopped to grab my afternoon pick me up coffee and walked outside.
I was greeted by an unusual scene. A tiny dog in a pink sweater was in a doggie 'perambulator'. A perambulator is a stroller and it is one of my favorite British words. This dog was strapped in to its perambulator but was still able to sit. It's owner was feeding the dog bits of its sandwich, as the dog was at the exact same level as the humans at this table. It was quite amusing and the dog in question was one of the more pathetic excuses for a dog I have ever seen.
I walked on and came across another perambulator. Only this one was not moving. This stroller could not move any further because the 'Mum' pushing it had maxed out her child leash. Her child was on a leash and was sitting in the middle of the avenue and she could not move any further. She kept begging her child to, 'Get Up Dahling. Honestly. Please Get Up!'
This has to have been one of the more ironic events I have witnessed thus far in the mall. What is the world coming to I wonder sometimes...Babies on leashes, dogs in strollers. WTF?
Sunday 17 October 2010
Monday 11 October 2010
The Beauty of Sweat
I had a terrible day today. So I fixed it in the one way I know how: SWEAT. That's right, sticky, sweet, and salty sweat. Exercise has been a huge constant in my life for years now. I failed as a PA sub today and though most of this failure has little to do with me - insufficient training and then the frequent display of horrible communication skills by my boss were the chief factors. I had to put up with yet another day of groans and sighs. I got home knowing the only solution was to work it out. Here is how I feel when I am working out.
I jump on the treadmill-excited to pound out my 'problems' on the 'pavement' and gain some perspective on life. I set my speed, fix my gaze, and run. I prefer running outside but being so far north prohibits this in the interest of my safety. So, the treadmill will do just fine. After a few minutes I feel the sweat begin to perk up across my brow. My heart beats steadily, quickly, and strongly in my chest. I think, "Yes, Helen, exercise that ticker." I imagine my whole body getting pumped full of blood and oxygen. My breath becomes quicker and with every step that breath becomes more important to manage. The sweat spreads from my brow, to my temples, to my neck, to my chest, my armpits and so on. I imagine that with every droplet I am expelling something toxic from my body. I envision a negative in each little bead bursting forth and leaving me only with the good.
There goes the worries about the sexist boss. There go his sighs. There goes his passive aggressive groans. There goes his slight yell. And another one. And another one. Poof! There goes his terse goodbye. Gone is the servant feeling I get while sending out conference call notices to the guy that started two days after me-who because he is a boy is still included on those calls-while I have been reduced to the one who invites him. Quicker and quicker these worries fall away.
I give a picture to each breath in. Only the positive images are invited and allowed to come into me. A cheesy photo montage of all these beautiful moments of my life fill me: skiing in Colorado surrounded by the intelligent and spunky women of my sorority, downing pints in a pub with live music in Scotland catching up with Helga, my sister (at 17) still climbing into bed with me when I am home with a stack of our favorite childhood books to read aloud in the same old accents and falling asleep holding hands, sitting on my porch overlooking the river with Corrigan with nothing but our faces showing outside of our sleeping bags laughing and watching the stars as we got to know each other. I see myself cruising around in Chile making new friends and drinking Malbecs. I think of the Colorado mountains I got to now so well and the strength and confidence that they and the girls of my summer camp gave me. I smile when I think about the time my brother and I drove Houston to Santa Fe in one day and were so delirious at the end that we rocked out to Green Day Dookie-yeah we still know every word. I think of myself skiing fast down the side of a mountain and the power coming from my large thighs that carries me through each turn.
Speaking of my legs-they are burning now. I glance down at them, making sure I am well-aligned on the treadmill. While I would like them to be smaller at times, I have to love them for all the miles and adventures they have seen me through. 25 mile hikes in the Gallatin Range of Montana, the one road in Walla Walla, WA that saw me through my freshman and sophomore anxiety ridden years of college, the loop in Houston where I planned how university was going to be. My arms have found their rhythm. They churn back and forth and with that movement I am taken to another paradise I found. I can hear the cicadas in the background now, I hear my paddle cut through the clear blue water of the Mediterranean, staring at the perfect Greek house I am whizzing by. I feel the sun on my body, drying the salt from the sea and my sweat. Yes, I remember that! That perfect feeling of contentment and my fear and awe at the tremendous ocean currents-the first time I truly recognized the intense power of the ocean. Currents...I remember those!
I remember almost every ebb on the Gallatin River-my stomping grounds for the past few summers. The images and my breath come faster now! A face for every third step, a funny memory for the first, and a scene for the second. Jaye, trout, hiking on my b-day, Poppy (my Dad), beer pong with the rental team, Cinny (my first dog), Katherine, a long Sunday lunch with my Chilean host family, the baby mountain goat I almost touched on my birthday, Sacha, Dundee and Mellie (my family's dogs), Gallatin Peak, Mt. Wilson, fishing with Pat, and so on and so forth.
I feel myself coming back. I am powerful. I am confident. I am strong, so strong-watch me go! Faster and faster and faster. Keep Going Helen! Push it! My leg muscles are screaming, my heart racing, my shirt is soaked in sweat. I run it out 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Done.
I am a truly blessed person. And a bad day at work and a lame boss is nothing I can't handle. I wipe my face and smile. I feel humbled, yet invincible with the love and memories of so many people, so many miles, so many towns, to fill me up during my runs and expel the negatives from my life.
It was a fine day after all.
I jump on the treadmill-excited to pound out my 'problems' on the 'pavement' and gain some perspective on life. I set my speed, fix my gaze, and run. I prefer running outside but being so far north prohibits this in the interest of my safety. So, the treadmill will do just fine. After a few minutes I feel the sweat begin to perk up across my brow. My heart beats steadily, quickly, and strongly in my chest. I think, "Yes, Helen, exercise that ticker." I imagine my whole body getting pumped full of blood and oxygen. My breath becomes quicker and with every step that breath becomes more important to manage. The sweat spreads from my brow, to my temples, to my neck, to my chest, my armpits and so on. I imagine that with every droplet I am expelling something toxic from my body. I envision a negative in each little bead bursting forth and leaving me only with the good.
There goes the worries about the sexist boss. There go his sighs. There goes his passive aggressive groans. There goes his slight yell. And another one. And another one. Poof! There goes his terse goodbye. Gone is the servant feeling I get while sending out conference call notices to the guy that started two days after me-who because he is a boy is still included on those calls-while I have been reduced to the one who invites him. Quicker and quicker these worries fall away.
I give a picture to each breath in. Only the positive images are invited and allowed to come into me. A cheesy photo montage of all these beautiful moments of my life fill me: skiing in Colorado surrounded by the intelligent and spunky women of my sorority, downing pints in a pub with live music in Scotland catching up with Helga, my sister (at 17) still climbing into bed with me when I am home with a stack of our favorite childhood books to read aloud in the same old accents and falling asleep holding hands, sitting on my porch overlooking the river with Corrigan with nothing but our faces showing outside of our sleeping bags laughing and watching the stars as we got to know each other. I see myself cruising around in Chile making new friends and drinking Malbecs. I think of the Colorado mountains I got to now so well and the strength and confidence that they and the girls of my summer camp gave me. I smile when I think about the time my brother and I drove Houston to Santa Fe in one day and were so delirious at the end that we rocked out to Green Day Dookie-yeah we still know every word. I think of myself skiing fast down the side of a mountain and the power coming from my large thighs that carries me through each turn.
Speaking of my legs-they are burning now. I glance down at them, making sure I am well-aligned on the treadmill. While I would like them to be smaller at times, I have to love them for all the miles and adventures they have seen me through. 25 mile hikes in the Gallatin Range of Montana, the one road in Walla Walla, WA that saw me through my freshman and sophomore anxiety ridden years of college, the loop in Houston where I planned how university was going to be. My arms have found their rhythm. They churn back and forth and with that movement I am taken to another paradise I found. I can hear the cicadas in the background now, I hear my paddle cut through the clear blue water of the Mediterranean, staring at the perfect Greek house I am whizzing by. I feel the sun on my body, drying the salt from the sea and my sweat. Yes, I remember that! That perfect feeling of contentment and my fear and awe at the tremendous ocean currents-the first time I truly recognized the intense power of the ocean. Currents...I remember those!
I remember almost every ebb on the Gallatin River-my stomping grounds for the past few summers. The images and my breath come faster now! A face for every third step, a funny memory for the first, and a scene for the second. Jaye, trout, hiking on my b-day, Poppy (my Dad), beer pong with the rental team, Cinny (my first dog), Katherine, a long Sunday lunch with my Chilean host family, the baby mountain goat I almost touched on my birthday, Sacha, Dundee and Mellie (my family's dogs), Gallatin Peak, Mt. Wilson, fishing with Pat, and so on and so forth.
I feel myself coming back. I am powerful. I am confident. I am strong, so strong-watch me go! Faster and faster and faster. Keep Going Helen! Push it! My leg muscles are screaming, my heart racing, my shirt is soaked in sweat. I run it out 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
Done.
I am a truly blessed person. And a bad day at work and a lame boss is nothing I can't handle. I wipe my face and smile. I feel humbled, yet invincible with the love and memories of so many people, so many miles, so many towns, to fill me up during my runs and expel the negatives from my life.
It was a fine day after all.
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