Oct
2
As I type this, I’m stationed in the passenger side of my car with the seat cranked back far enough so my laptop screen doesn’t clunk against the glovebox. I’m parked at Riley’s school, leeching someone’s weak wifi signal and positioned near the sports field where he’s at flag football practice. As has been the case for at least three weeks in a row now, the weather is miserable: dark, cold, and dumping buckets of rain.
I’d sit outside in my usual fold-out chair, but I’m not insane. It is officially far too shitty to be camped on the sidelines of these sorts of wholesome outdoor activities, which is too bad since between my two kids they have a total of at least six different practices and/or games per week.
Evenings have turned so chaotic lately — if we’re not rushing off to a practice, I’m bolting for gym class or parked in front of the computer trying to force some breathing room in my writing deadlines. JB has a huge presentation coming up at work so he’s extra slammed. I can’t even remember the last time we sat down for a family meal. We’ve been putting a lot of effort into making the most of our weekends, but heading out for a mini getaway involves a lot of scrambling, too: the packing, the grocery shopping, the beshitted piles of post-trip laundry. Plus, check out what we came home to this Sunday after we’d been out of town:

You guys, that would be a DEAD BIRD the cat brought in the house and helpfully wedged under our couch. Thanks, cat. Feather-and-corpse reconnaissance was a nice addition to the usual chores.
Anyway, I’m wondering if fall feels extra crazy to you too? Or does it feel like a good transition from the aimless days of summer?
Signing off from wettest sports field in the Pacific Northwest,

Oct
1
Several years ago I went to a personal training gym where I worked out with an assortment of young, fit dudebros. It was a period of my life that started with an intensely embarrassing fat-measuring session and never really improved in terms of personal dignity. I did get in better shape, but it was at the expense of a lot of awkwardness and a truly shocking amount of money.
Since then, I tried a number of fitness endeavors, some that worked out awesomely (marathon medal GET!) and some that didn’t (No stank you, Crossfit). Eventually I entered a more . . . ah, sedentary phase, starting about the time I began working from home and culminating this summer in a back injury that I’m certain was triggered on account of my entire body preeeeeeeeeetty much looking like this:

Feeling self-conscious and unattractive is one thing, but I do draw the line at being unable to bend over without the aid of a weight belt, two hydrocodone tablets, and an agonized horror-movie scream.
My relationship with exercise and clean eating feels like one of those endlessly looping Vine videos: oh look, she’s getting in shape and feeling great about herself! Oh no, she’s hunched over a plate of cookies like those feral girls from Mama! What can I say any more, really. As far as wagons go, there are worse ones to repeatedly tumble from.
Anyway, I’ve been mostly on track since July, slowly getting stronger (core strength is related to lower back pain, you say? WELL I’LL BE GODDAMNED) and dropping a few pounds. (Emphasis on few. Cherish your metabolism while you have one, kids.) I began with exercising to DVDs at home and eventually worked up enough nerve to join one of those tire-flipping, wall-climbing, rain-or-shine boot camps. The woman who teaches the class is a personal trainer, and I recently bought some sessions with her. She’s friendly, funny, enormously inspiring without being the least bit intimidating, and her one-on-one workouts cost a fraction of what I paid in Seattle.
Getting back into the groove of challenging my body has been incredibly beneficial over the last few months. I have, as of today, 99 days of sobriety under my belt, and I feel healthier and happier in about a million different ways.
Sometimes it truly feels like the right things happen at the right time. I mean, I guess you could look at your entire life that way, couldn’t you?
