Walk Journals: The Winter Walks

Making Tracks ...

Not so many walks this winter--weather and road conditions have been less than cooperative.  I've lost track of the number of snowstorms we've had but we've used six snowdays at school this year so there's six right there.  We stayed open during a couple snowy days and there was at least one snowy weekend.  I've had to content myself with shoveling for my workouts.  As it turns out, shoveling is counted as an activity in my Weight Watchers app (10 minutes of shoveling equals 1 point) so the hours spent clearing away light fluffy flakes, water-laden slush and shards of ice have counted for something (besides aching muscles).

But ... a few days were above 22 degrees (my bottom threshold for spending a couple hours outside) or were dry enough or had a brilliant sun that lured me out to see what my world had to offer.  

And there was plenty to see and admire and wonder about.  The Rockaway River was spectacular locked in ice in January.  With many consecutive days failing to reach over ten degrees, she had frozen in several places from shore to shore, pushing ice over the banks and encasing everything in her path in a glassy coating.  The January sunsets cast an orange and pink glow in the winter sky that failed to warm despite the flushed hues.  But they do bear the promise of warmer times to come.  These days before the huge snows were such a gift.  The paths in the parks were still passable and sidewalks were clear.



 There were a couple of nice days that allowed for walking across the highway to Indian Lake. 

It's always been amazing to me how the days really do grow longer after December 21.  I mean, I know they do but in the depths of winter, it sometimes feels like it's never going to get light again.  But every minute of light counts and the slightly longer daylit days of January also speak of the promise of spring--and allow for longer walks making visiting the lake a real possibility.  Once upon a time, there was a New Year's Day skating party on this lake (we lived a block from the little beach at the time).  The lake was frozen clear across and the day was brilliant.  I remember we skated limbo-fashion under this bridge, the entrance to Lenape Island, a tiny miniature island with maybe a dozen homes where I'd dearly love to live.  We skated for hours and hours that day.  It's one of my fondest memories of our little cottage by the lake.

Where the water from Indian Lake spills over a little dam into a lagoon, the water wasn't frozen.  These swans were captivating.  This is the first time I've seen swans in the dead of winter.  We have several different pairs that stop by in October for a few weeks on their route to their winter homes in the south and then return for a few weeks, usually in March, on their way north again.  Perhaps I've never been in the right place or maybe this is the first time a few stuck around for a New Jersey winter.

This sign has been on Franklin Road near the little beach bridge for quite a while now.  Whatever road work the town has been doing here seems to be stalled and I can't help but thinking that is a metaphor for this winter.  With all the snow and ice, there've been no end to the bumps and slow going.  Or maybe it's a metaphor for those rough, icy patches in life.  Some of the winter walks have been like that ... 

Slip sliding ...

and it's all night.*

We all have our bumps in the road and icy patches that cause us to slip and slide.  This is why I love these walks so much:  they often cause me to reflect on the evident connections that are to be made between the walking and the living, between the sights I see and the memories they trigger, between the ups and downs, the rough and the smooth going--it's obvious, I know, but that whole "journey" idea has been bubbling close to the surface the last year or two.

Before the snow got too deep, walks to the pond were possible too.  Lately, even the sidewalks that far up the road have been impassable but a few weeks ago, if I set out early enough I could make it up that far before sunset.  The pond seems so plain in this state ... no sturdy lily pads, no waving grasses, no ducks, geese, dragonflies or frogs jumping out of the danger of my footfalls.  But there is a sort of forlorn beauty in the starkness of the bare trees, the dark reflections and the encroaching ice.  

I keep thinking I need some new places to walk.  I've walked these roads and paths so often, photographed the river, the lake, the pond from almost every angle and in all types of light.  But the truth is, I love these places and visiting them in every season, in all types of weather, on sunny days and dreary ones--it all recharges me.  They're my places and are important parts of that more recent journey of the past couple of years.  I will find some new places to walk but these local spots--they'll always be my favorites.

~~~

*if you've read these pages before, you'd have guessed this is a Gavin DeGraw lyric and you'd be right:  Leading Man

Winter playlist, eclectic sampling:

Hot Chelle Rae - Don't Say Goodnight
Pharrell Williams - Happy (or if you have 24 hours to spare ... 24 hours of Happy,) 
Joey DeGraw - Miracle of the Mind

Walk Journal ~ November 25 Ramblings

Finally outside again and so glad! The sunset was spectacular.

Hello; my name is Katherine and it's been two weeks since my last walk.  

Two weeks.  That's the longest time between walks or workouts that I've experienced since getting back on the road to healthy.  Part of  becoming fit was the realization that as much as I'd like to, I'm not able to actually do everything I want to do.  There are simply not enough hours in the day or days in the week.  So when I started making better choices for myself in the food and exercise departments, I also started making better decisions for my after-work schedule.  I've tried hard not to overbook myself so that there is plenty of time to shop, prep dinners and lunches and walk, either outside or inside (with Leslie).  But I lost control of the calendar last week and the previous one as well and wound up having 8 evening obligations in 11 days.  Add in several long days into evenings at work and my life quickly became a flashback to drive-through dinners, sleepless nights with no decompressing time and no time to work out.

Despite the cold, it was a relief to get out.  I did my usual dusk/dark route--one with sidewalks and streetlights.  But it was still pretty light when I started out and made my way down to the river.  Knowing it would be dark by the time I reached my usual picture place at McCarter Park, I paused at the river's edge at the park several blocks from my house.  The empty, still swings said as much about the cold as the thermometer.  So did the ice on the very shallow water.  I'm grateful for the shallowness, though, as the 2 - 4 inches of rain predicted for this week could really do a lot of damage otherwise.

A couple of hundred feet more and I'm saddened to see yet another house is gone.  So strange to see these empty lots.  There is really nothing that says a home was once there except for the emergency fencing and a small bit of rubble.  It's almost as though a giant crane dipped out of the sky and plucked them up.  It's only about a dozen houses that will ultimately be razed in the wake of 2011's Irene.  A small number compared to the houses that were lost elsewhere in New Jersey last year during Sandy and the whole towns that were destroyed this month in the Philippines.  I can't help but think of how powerless people are in the face of these natural disasters and how strong the communities are that overcome them.  My mind wanders back to the days just after the hurricane (or tropical storm) and how amazing this town, my friends, colleagues and neighbors, and my family were in the days and weeks after it.

No time to look back though.  Knee is feeling not awful so I try running a little--emphasis on "a little."  But it's more running than I've done in months and shortly I'm enjoying a gorgeous sunset at the pond.  The purple aura of the setting sun isn't as vivid in this picture as it was while I paused to admire it.  It was pretty dramatic.  I headed off to the back of the park as the light quickly began to fade but then thought better of completing the circle around the pond.  The other side is wooded with rocky, rutted paths, hostile roots and wicked stray branches.  And I know the bears aren't all asleep yet--we've had a lot of evidence of their bulking up at school lately and had to order more "bear-proofing" on our dumpsters.  Probably not a good idea to wander alone in the dark in the woods.  The Girl Scout leader in me prevails.

It's about two miles to the pond from my house and another mile and a quarter to get back downtown.  No running on the way back.  It's weird but when I run I look ahead, watching for each little milestone and enduring the dialog in my head (go as far as the orphanage, run to the church, you can make it to the spring ....).  But on the darkened streets and sidewalks, I'm mostly looking down, trying not to trip on broken concrete or miss a curb.  The last thing I need to do is fall.

Turning onto Broadway, I walk along the river to the bridge and then turn for home.  The snowflakes are up on light poles and glitter and glow so warmly and our homespun candy canes line the sidewalks of the retail district.  This is such a special time of year in this town and this weekend coming up will be a lot of fun with a downtown open house and holiday parade.  These local traditions make living here such a sweet experience--they create a certain rhythm of promise and comfort and spell "home" to me.  

Oddly, as I took this last picture, my trusty walking companion (known as iPhone) powered down for no good reason that I could tell.  Forced to walk the last half mile without music, my thoughts seemed to grow louder in the silence.  Of course, there's always music in downtown Denville.  There are speakers all throughout downtown and by this weekend, there will be Christmas music all day, every day.  Tonight there are familiar old standards.  I don't know of any other town that does this (although I'm sure there must be some).  You just have to smile when you're here.  There's music in the air plus coffee on three corners.  And much, much more.   

So good to get back out.  I hereby promise myself not to sabotage my schedule, whether by accident or by my inability to say no.  Three nights out of five is the limit.  I can't afford for it not to be.

~~~

Soundtrack for a Monday night--members of Team Katherine, those who helped me so much last year.  Perfect for getting back on track.

Colbie Caillat's new single, Hold On
Andy Grammer's EP, Crazy Beautiful.  
Chris Wallace's record, Push Rewind.  Listen to Keep Me Crazy--fun song.
Tyler Hilton's record, Forget the Storm.  Loaded Gun: best running song.

Team Captain Gavin DeGraw was not on this walk (iPhone #fail) but his new album, Make A Move is in my head almost all the time.  

3.88 Charity Miles for Nothing But Nets.  Malaria still robs a child of his or her life every minute.

Walk Journal ~ October 22 & 23

Yesterday's blue skies were a clear invitation to get out.  Just before the 2-mile mark, I posted the day's walk photo on Facebook, saying something like "The lake is drained ... I'm sure that's a metaphor for something."  It's probably more accurate to say the lake is lowered.  It's lowered every few years to give homeowners the opportunity to fix their lakewalls and docks.  It's had me thinking about being drained though.  

Drained is often how I felt all the years I spent being unhealthy.  It started before divorce during the lonely married years and continued afterwards.  I don't know how women cope after divorce if they have no family or no family nearby.  Raising kids alone isn't easy.  Making every decision, not having a ready sounding board, second guessing actions you've taken--it's all draining.  I was so fortunate to have my parents to help me.  But there were days I'd get home from work and running young kids to and from activities and stand in the kitchen completely unable to figure out what to make for dinner.  Although it should have been a simple one, it was just one decision too many.

I'd walked from the lake over to the river.  It, too, is looking drained.  I can't think when we last had a good rain.  I can't remember the river ever being this low.  I walked to the center on the dry, rocky riverbed to take a couple of pictures.  It was a strange feeling to be in that spot.  I've want to get into the river for over a year.  I always say I'm going to do it on August 28.  I supposed I should be happy that the river is so low heading into winter and snow season.  It will greatly reduce the chance of flooding during spring rains and runoffs.  If you've visited this space previously, you'll remember that this river, now my friend and confidant, invaded my home on August 28, 2011, overflowing her banks because of Tropical Storm Irene.  Losing so much in a few short hours, the subsequent cleaning, demolition, renovation and refurnishing was a draining process.  Come to think of it, the drains on the lower level of the house flowed in reverse that day due to pressure on the sewer system.  Drains.

It was such a pretty day and I'd started out early so was able to visit the pond too.  We must have hit peak leaf season this week.  There are still leaves above, clinging to their branches but lots of leaves are below too, providing a soft, mottled carpet for guests.  I'd left under brilliant blue skies but when I emerged from the woods, it was dusk.  I walked the rest of the way home under lamplight.  It was a 7-mile day.

A mailbox is all that's left of this address.

Today's skies are less clear and the temperature has dropped substantially but I talk myself into a quick hour of my walking workout.  Today I choose Riverside Drive to lead me out of the neighborhood.  They've begun taking down the houses.  Houses that were devastated during Irene--much more so than was mine.   It's sad to see them go.  I'm struck by how small the parcels of land appear now without their homes centered in them.  There are more slated to come down.  It seems to be taking a long time but I suppose, like all things involving government, buying unwanted properties takes some time.  I find myself wondering about these families again.  Where have they gone?  Have they made out all right?  There are no plans to replaces these houses.  These places will become catch basins, rain gardens and other man-made "natural" drainage aids. They're designed to drain the excess water away or absorb it, I suppose.  This is supposed to help the rest of us when the river is knocking at our doorsteps.  Irene wasn't the first time the river had flowed into my house.  It was just the deepest visit.  So better drainage around the neighborhood should help.  That's the theory.  Draining can be helpful, I suppose.

I'd intended to only walk around downtown but the drizzle had stopped so I headed off toward the pond again.  It's such a peaceful place.  The geese are here almost year 'round now.  A lot of people don't like them but I think they're beautiful.  They're very clannish and look after one another so well.  In the spring the young families are really something to watch.  The parent geese are so patient with their offspring, waiting for them to catch up and nudging them into the water.  I circle quickly around and head for home.  It's a 4-mile day today.

It's good to be back on track.  The last month of excuses and inattention to healthy habits was draining.  Making good food choices and journaling, planning ahead for healthy meals and exercise:  It's a lot of work--but it's far less draining.

~~~

Playlist for these walks:

Todd Carey Nintendo

and my lifeline:  Gavin DeGraw.  The new album may be some of his best work.  Here's one:  Finest Hour

95.5 WPLJ streaming John Fox and Ralphie Aversa

Walk Journals ~ September 6 (True Confessions)

Confession Number 1:  When I stepped off the porch for my keep fit walk tonight my mouth was full of maple walnut fudge that I bought at the beach yesterday.

Struggling these days--struggling a lot.  I'm on a slippery slope and no one knows it better than me.  So many set backs ... emotional stuff in mid-summer, vacation eating mode all summer, little or no food journaling. Excuses, excuses, excuses.  Then the sciatic issue that started last week.  Okay, so pain is a valid excuse.  For not working out--not for over-eating.  I've eased up a bit on myself since I'm in a decent place weight-wise.  The health crises and urgency of last year are gone and so, it seems, is part of the motivation.  But I'm not in the place I want to be and I'm wondering why I could get up at 4:30 AM this time last year and why 6 AM is now a struggle; why I could get two walks in a day this time last year and one a day is now a struggle; why I journaled every bite this time last year (and weighed and measured them too) and making good choices is now a struggle.  I have no answers.

I love this picture from tonight.  I'm surprised that little box measured a pedestrian at all.  Especially a pedestrian who was so  ... well, pedestrian.  I wish my "speed" was "7."  7 miles an hour?  I did get slightly above 4 mph for a while earlier this year.  I think I was doing 4 miles in about 52 minutes.  

I dragged myself over to Cedar Lake in the fading light tonight.  It was chilly and people over there had either chimmineas going or their fire places were already getting a workout.  I love a twilight walk ... it's so relaxing at the end of the day.  With the sciatic pain (not as bad this week as last week), I've been forced to slow down.  Not so good for the workout, but really good for the soul.  Listening to music and letting my thoughts wander all over the place (more rambling) is a good way to ultimately get myself organized.       

Tonight I'm thinking about both yesterday at the beach and the wild ride that was my day at work.  It's amazing that how in the space of less than 48 hours one can be gloriously relaxed and completely reveling in being "alone in a crowd" and then so completely crazed that it's ultimately impossible to move in any productive direction.   Yesterday I sat in a beach chair from noon until about 6 PM, moving off the beach only to indulge in my favorite new shore food for lunch:  fish tacos.  I half-napped while waves of conversations floated around me.  Have you ever noticed that on the beach?  You're outside with loads of people around and waves crashing and gulls making a racket but if you close your eyes, conversations tune themselves in like stations on a radio.  Then your stream of consciousness takes hold ... I wonder, for example, what led the young woman on my right, snuggling close to a young man, to mention that "eyeballs are mostly composed of some sort of gel."  She needs a lesson in romantic chat, I think to myself.  

Then behind me the inevitable:

Big kid:  You can't use my shovel.

Little kid:  You're not using it.

BK:  Mom! Tell him he can't use my shovel.

Mom:  You're not using it.

You can see where that's headed and there's really no way for anyone to come out a winner.  And I wondered why they decided to sit so close to me when the beach wasn't really crowded.  I've done my time with kids on the beach.

I decided to trespass on the right of way on the east side of the lake.  These lake communities are private properties for residents only.  Denville has several of them.  Tiny ponds and pools of water that folks in New Jersey refer to as lakes that anywhere else might not even be worthy of a name.  But they're delightful and I've become accustomed to these small lakes and take advantage of the pretty views as often as I can.  Tonight I'm inspired by this still life of a fishing rod and bits of tackle on the bench next to the shore line of a tiny "inlet."  If I was a teacher, it would be next week's writing prompt for my class.  There wasn't a soul in sight.  Who left it behind?  Was it a child, called home to dinner?  An absent-minded older fellow?  Will he or she be back to retrieve it?  Must I walk this way tomorrow to find out?  Do I care that much?  ... probably not ...

Since it's Friday, I try not to dwell on work too much but it's impossible to ignore the fact that it's been the most unsettling school opening for me in the 13 school openings I've had.  Everything is going really well but new layers (and layers and layers) of security are tough to get used to and create more work for the office; the school bus company that won the bid this year is unresponsive to our transportation person; people have resigned, all for very good reasons but it's remarkable that we've lost so many in such a short period of time.  I'm happy for all who've moved on to bigger and better things but geez ... at the end of the summer/start of the year?  I wanted to try and find my desk before I left today but the fire alarm went off.  Only the after-care program and a couple of administrators and I were around ... Teachers:  do not bring your old toaster ovens to the teachers' room.  Do us all a favor and get new ones for your space at school.  It was a wacky week for a first week back with holidays on both Monday and Thursday.  Next week ... hoping for normal.

Rambling on and trying to pick up speed as I've unwittingly dressed all in black and the shadows are closing in quickly.  I'm going to need to get out of these neighborhood roads and back onto the main road with the safety of sidewalks.  Obviously though, no one's told these guys that is not safe to play in the street.  Just up from the beach, these two are not the least bit concerned about the cars that can't get past them from two directions at the intersection where three roads come together.  Or they are just enjoying the fact that I'm taking lots of pictures.  Finally I shoo them along so the car-bound folks can continue on their way.  I'd have stood there all night watching them watch me ... but folks in cars always seem to be in a hurry ... and ultimately, it's just another excuse for not moving.

I'm going to have to find my way back to that resolve I had last fall and get serious again.  I'm hoping this nerve business moves along quickly because it's easy to make excuses for less exercise--that slippery slope that leads to other poor decisions.  I'm in a pretty good place right now but I know how all that can change.  I really can't let that happen ... I gave away all the large-size (make that extra-extra large) clothes.

Tonight:  5 miles.  Not bad.  Not great but I'll take it.  I'll ramble more tomorrow.

Confession Number 2:  I'm drinking a glass of wine and enjoying a chocolate chip muffin as I write.

~

Playlist for a Friday night:

WPLJ with my favorite radio guy Ralphie Aversa.  Until he cues up Imagine Dragons' Radioactive ... can't for the life of me figure out why that song is successsful ...

and so ... I turn up Gavin DeGraw, Sweeter Live.

Baggage

This blog started out as a journal about my dual journey to reconcile with the river after Hurricane Irene and my path back to health and my own life.  And that's not really a dual journey, I suppose, because I think the hurricane (downgraded to a tropical storm, most of us still call it "the hurricane"), although real and traumatic, was just the catalyst for a bunch of succeeding thoughts and circumstances that led me to finally take control of my health and, consequently, my life.  I suppose the hurricane represents the least amount of control.  It took weeks to get the disastrous mess left by Irene under control and months of renovation to get the house back under control.  I started getting my life back a few months after the paint dried and the furniture came in.  And I never looked back.

Until recently.

Since I've been back from Boston, I've been out-of-control eating, barely exercising and haven't been journaling food since before the trip.  It's all a vicious circle too.  Eating too much makes you feel lazy and leads to lack of exercise and journaling.  Lack of exercise affects your mood and sleep patterns.  Feeling weak and tired does not equip you for good choices.  So if eating is your Achilles' heal, you'll probably eat without preparation, intention and reason.  Although the trip was beautiful and I had so much fun, my wonderful mood was completely stripped upon my return to the office.  A dramatic mess awaited there that shook me up and turned my world upside down.  Even though the situation is more or less resolved, I've not been sleeping, eating too much and wasting time in the same sort of lethargy of the spirit that marked my years before April 2012.  I've been blaming my feelings on work, however, knowing deep down that there must be more to it because work doesn't own me any more.  What is holding me down for real?

I've been well aware of all the poor choices I'm making.  I can hear myself making excuses and being my own chief enabler.  I eat and tell myself I don't care.  

Yesterday I was reminded that it was my brother and sister-in-law's anniversary.  That's when it hit me:  Tuesday I would have been married 29 years.  Last year I was so buoyed by my weight-loss success and the concert travel that I barely noticed the date.  I don't remember anything about August 2011 before the storm hit but I think I didn't pay much attention that year.  Most years, I'm okay.  But some years are paralyzing.  And the really weird thing is, until something triggers an association with the date, I'm at a loss to explain the overwhelming pervasive sadness that invades my body.  It's not like divorced people have their wedding anniversaries on the calendar, after all. I remember one year a few years after I'd started at the school, I couldn't move.  I couldn't get out of bed.  I called out sick and again the next day.  The second day I called the only administrator who was working that week.  I remember it was the BA and she mentioned the date:  August 6.  I remember saying, Is today August 6?  Energy and relief came flooding into my body and I could function again.  I recognized the source of the paralysis and I could move on immediately.   The trigger this year was the mention of someone else's anniversary.  I became flooded with relief again at having figured it out again and realizing that it's only temporary; that I'm not going to undo all the good I've done myself.  

I just have to get past Tuesday. 

Baggage.  I obviously still have baggage.  Just when I thought I'd put it down forever, it's clear I still have some--at least a carry-on. 

~

Music is a big part of the cure these days.  This weekend, here's what's helping a lot:

Michael Franti & Spearhead, I'm Alive (Life Sounds Life) 

~

This appeared in my Twitter feed about 15 minutes after publishing this post.  Thanks @Lindsay_Gal for sharing it. Guess I'll be listening to some Matt Cusson soon...

Borders and Boundaries

I've been thinking a lot about borders and boundaries since being away last week.  We drove to Canada to visit friends and family in the city where my parents, my brothers and I were born, Windsor, Ontario.  There were border crossings involved, naturally.  But I passed through a lot of boundaries besides the obvious ones.

It's about a 10- or 11-hour drive from my home in New Jersey to my birthplace.  I can no longer drive it in one day (at least not by myself).  We take our time crossing the borders of Pennsylvania and Ohio.  A lot of people don't like the drive.  They say Route 80 in Pennsylvania is boring and the flatness of Ohio is unappealing to some.  Pennsylvania is wide and it feels like it's taking forever but it's pretty with worn-low mountains and wildflowers and quilts of farmland spread out on either side of the road.  I went to college in Ohio so I'm pretty partial to that state.  It is kind of flat in the north where we travel but there's beauty in that.  The horizon is far in the distance with grey weathered barns pushed against the edge and fields and fields of growing things. 

When I'm driving through Ohio my mind travels across decades of borders and memories that are triggered by green highway signs.  I'm sure I knew people from Vermillion ... my roommate had family in Akron ... the second great love of my life was from Elyria (wonder where he is; is he happy; how many children; and on and on).  I don't visit those borders very often any more but the signs naturally cause me to look back.  Border crossings.

So we drive to Toledo and turn north. It's that simple, especially from my house situated within sight of Route 80.  Before we get there we pass by signs for Sandusky and Cedar Point.  Cedar Point ... site of the last roller coaster I ever rode.  The Blue Streak, 1971.  Nancy's father took us over the border for a day of fun in this classic amusement park.  "Come on," she said.  "It's not bad, I promise."  Her dad could tell I was changed for life when I exited that ride.  I'm pretty sure I was white as a sheet.  Thank goodness they hadn't thought to set up cameras on those rides yet.  I have not been on anything faster than teacups since.  

When we finally get to the real border crossing (after getting through the tunnel that links Detroit with Windsor, the U.S. with Canada), there's always that moment of dread:  that unwarranted fear you get when speaking to someone "in authority."  I can't help but notice the two language greeting, "Bonjour/hello."  A few basic questions and we're on our way again, a couple of blocks to the hotel situated on the river.  On the border.  I can look across from my old home and wave towards my now home.

I crossed some other borders during the week.  The most notable was the boundary I've set up for myself this year.  The one that keeps me eating healthy and exercising every day.  It's hard to make good choices when you're traveling.  I did pretty well the first couple of days but when that poutine appeared on the menu ... well, I crossed over into dangerous eating territory.  I went over the border into full vacation mode. I recognize that's an excuse for making bad choices and not standing my ground at that border.  I did manage to walk every day except for three of the driving days.  I'm not happy with crossing that boundary but I accept that I chose to go over the bridge and that it will take some time to undo the damage.

We spent the week crossing borders and boundaries.  Visiting friends and family who've been in our lives all my life and reminiscing at every turn.  They say you can never go back but I'm lucky.  I was rooted in such a lovely place that even though it's changed much over the years, I can still find my childhood amidst the "progress."

This image really made me both laugh and think as we
waited in a very long line to cross back to the States.  We
aren't "closed" here.  We welcome people from all over the
world.  Every day.  People seeking both a short respite and a
permanent refuge.

Crossing back and returning home, I run the memories in reverse.  Other bits of the past trickle up but by the time we hit New Jersey, I've crossed back to the present.  I'm running my to-do list for the week ahead and playing catch-up in my brain.  The final border crossing:  home again.

~

There was, of course, a playlist as I drove:

Gavin DeGraw (the entire catalog)

Jamie McLean Band (my summer party)

Andy Grammer (happiness on a disc)

Sara Bareilles (pure beauty)

Michael Franti (peace & dancing too)

Colbie Caillet (memories of last summer)

Off Track

I've been pretty single-minded about this weight-loss business.  I mean I've been pretty devoted to making the right food choices and exercising a lot.  But I have an eating problem and no one knows it better than I do.

In fact, most people think I don't have a problem any more.  I'm getting a lot of "you're done now, right?" and "you don't need to lose any more; you don't want to get too skinny."  I think it's interesting that people never said to my face how overweight I was and believe me, I was.  Everyone is too polite for that.  It's interesting that those same people now feel free to voice their opinions about my weight now.  They don't know how much I weigh.  They only see how I look.

This journey is not just about how I look.  It's about how I feel now.  It's about my health.  It's about having energy and confidence.  It's about be able to sit on the floor and maybe teach Godly Play again.  It's about hiking up and down hills with my girl scouts.  It's about working in my garden.  It's about being able to lace up my sneakers.  Literally.  I am now able to do that.  It's about long walks that clear my head to make room for getting other things accomplished.

I have an eating problem.  I manage it so much better now but every once in a while it still manages to manage me.  Like today.

I've had a couple of busy weeks.  A couple of trips to New York to hang out, concert fun in Point Pleasant, family stuff, Memorial Day parading.  This weekend included Friday night through Sunday morning camping with my girl scouts, heading to the Mayo PAC for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, dinner out with my son and Governor Christie*, and coming home to an enormous problem to be solved on a Sunday night for work.

I'm tired.  You can't be tired and maintain the amount of strength necessary for this eating battle that I wage on a meal-by-meal and snack-by-snack basis. I've raided my boss's candy bowl which I have successfully walked past every day for a year to a ridiculous degree the last two workdays.  I ordered pizza for dinner tonight even though there are better choices in my 'fridge.  I had three hot dogs at camp.  There could be more confessions here but we get the point.  I haven't been on the scale since Thursday but I'll get on it tomorrow and I know I'm going to be angry and disappointed with myself.

I know what my triggers are ... Nervous me eats.  Tired me eats.  Depressed me eats.  Worried me eats.  Partying me eats.  Drinks too.  And doesn't stop.  Because ordering a cheeseburger isn't the worst thing in the world.  Unless it's preceded by a cheesy appetizer of some sort and followed by a cake and ice cream dessert of some sort.

Time to get back on track.  When I write it here, I have some success.  Sending my thoughts out to cyberworld makes me feel accountable in some way.  I have no idea why that should be so because this is a rather anonymous and ethereal conversation.  After all, I have no idea who, if anyone is seeing this.  But however it does, it does work for me.

And if you know me, trust me.  I know what I'm doing and I know why I'm doing it.  There's no danger of my getting too thin.  I'm in regular discussions with my doctor and only recently finally achieved normal BMI for my height and age.  I'm within the normal range which is to say I could go lower if I want to and still be in that normal range.  It's not helpful to tell me I can eat anything I want.  Of course I can't.  I have a problem.  You wouldn't tell an alcoholic he or she could have a drink if he or she wanted one.  You'd tell them to stay strong.  Food addicted people need the same support.  It's a hard road.  It's not like a person can give up eating entirely the way an alcoholic can give up drinking entirely.  Or a smoker can give up smoking.  We all need to eat.  For a food addicted person with emotional triggers it's like constantly living on the proverbial slippery slope.  Don't tell me not to eat something that may not be the best choice either.  It's my choice.  I chose to give in to my weaknesses the last week.  Tomorrow I choose to get back on track.  You can support me by not judging--the good days or the bad days.  These are my choices to make.

I'm living my life the best way I know how now.  I may get off track from time to time.  But now I know I can get back on track if I choose, too. And I do choose.  It's my life to lead and these are my choices to make.

~

PS  Thank you Weight Watchers eTools!  You are an awesome support.  I could never have come this far (107 pounds) without you.

*Had dinner last night at my favorite restaurant on the planet, Urban Table in Morristown.  Governor Chris Christie lives a couple of towns over from Morristown in the other direction from me.  We were seated at the table just next to his.  The entire room was really respecting his private time with his family which was wonderful to see.  Although I agree with almost nothing that he alleges he's accomplished, I strongly believe in public figures' right to privacy even while out in public.  And since this is a weight-loss journal tonight and the world knows that my governor also struggles with weight (about the only place where he and I connect), he was making awesome choices for his eating plan too ...