On Metamorphosis

After a 20 mile bike ride on the Great Allegheny Passage - overlooking the Youghiogheny River. Progress is being able to ride 1 mile let along 20 since having surgery.

I am sure that the caterpillar can relate. The path to becoming something new is long, a bit messy, and often times a complex process of intertwined efforts.

Somewhere, beneath all of these soft layers that bounce and jiggle, is a person that I am hoping to meet. We really aren't very different. We are both beautiful and intelligent and wildly funny human beings. This other woman has a bit more confidence, though. And much less need for self-deprecating humor. Mostly, she doesn't worry about what everyone else thinks when they see her because she is no longer hiding behind her wit and her intelligence, she no longer lives on the offensive in fear of rejection or judgment. She just is. She is the sigh of relief I will let out when I've metamorphed out of this pudgy body and into one that is stronger, more powerful, healthy, and happy.

I downloaded a Couch 2 5k application to my iphone. Not so much because I have a desire to complete a 5k, but more because I was getting bored of 40 minutes on any given cardio machine without some sort of goal or purpose. Also, it's time to get over my fear of running. I am TERRIFIED of running. In my body, it is uncomfortable - my breasts heave painfully with each step, my legs quiver precariously beneath me, my lungs threaten to collapse, and my stomach sends mayday signals to my brain that I just may vomit any second. It's my body's way of shouting "NO! STOP! Stop this right this minute before I quit". All that over 30 seconds of running. The program guides you through alternating sessions of 30 seconds of running with 90 seconds of walking, a warm up and cool down period. I was waiting for the endorphins everyone talks about but I only felt them for a fleeting minute or two if at all. I managed to power through the discomfort by channeling my absolute loathing for the body I currently inhabit. Somewhere around the halfway point I even forgot about the other gym members that could very well be snickering about my jiggly bits behind my ample rump. Even though Week 1 Day 1 of the program only lasts for 40 minutes, I wanted to jump for joy when I finished. "Take that, treadmill and chubby thighs!" Then I remembered I still had another half hour of strength training to complete. So I pulled myself together and kept going. Change is intentional - something to be thought about every day, to be lived deliberately. One foot in front of the other, choice upon choice, thousands of beads of sweat until I wriggle out of this chrysalis.

Mile marker 72. We did a round-trip from 72 to 82 and back.

The 1st of 1000 Miles

I tend to wince when I hear those hackneyed sayings like "The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step" and "Today is the beginning of the rest of your life" or "It's not about the destination, it's about the journey". I've sat through many a speech where someone, failing to find the words to communicate what they actually wanted to say, relied on a cliche.

Sometimes, though, those cliches really do seem appropriate. Tomorrow is the day that I start a completely new way of existing on this planet. This change has involved two years of contemplation and research and 10 months of planning, testing, and therapy to completely change the way I think about food. In a sense, it will be the beginning of the rest of my life - the beginning of a life that I am really excited to start living. And while my preparative journey ends, I now have to start putting everything that I have learned into practice. One step at a time.

For the most part, I am a person who has enjoyed change. I like traveling to new places and not knowing a soul. I relish the challenge that comes with learning to adapt to a new school, a new job, a crowded room full of strangers. Sometimes the changes have been frought with sorrow and upheaval - like when my father died - and sometimes, they have felt like a breath of fresh air - starting nursing school. Be they tragic or not, each change I have weathered has led me to a good place where I have been able to derive joy from those who were along for the ride and pleasure at knowing I survived.

Changing my body has been a much harder challenge, though. It seems to have wanted to keep the same doughy shape since I was in grammar school. Even after changing many behaviors, I have still had a great deal of trouble seeing the results I want. Tomorrow, though, I'm going to receive a really fantastic tool to better help me make the change from a doughy frame to something that's a bit more athletic and capable of doing some serious hiking.

This, below, is Point A. I'm excited about the journey to Point B.

27

"I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster's paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my nightmares." Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Johnathan Safran Foer

I have read a great many books since my childhood but there are very few that linger within me the way this one does. I think of the way my own cat, Bali, will sleep upon my chest - sniffing my eyelids and laying a cool paw on my lips when my breathing blows through her fur, something she finds supremely annoying. She knows when I have awful dreams because she will sleep a good distance away to avoid my tossing and turning.

Tomorrow is my birthday. 27. Which means that it is almost 3 years since the worst day. Somehow, things seem unrecognizable since then. Even so, I find myself looking forward to each new year as an opportunity to put more distance between myself and 24. Time doesn't really heal all wounds so much as it profoundly dulls them from a sharp stab to an underlying ache. A new year, a birthday, is yet another opportunity to peel away the next layer in the quest to discover all that life has to offer. What adventures are in store? What changes will occur? There is always the promise that what lies ahead will be infinitely better than what lies behind.

Just 3 years ago, Bali was a scrawny kitten whose face was oddly distorted by the bold orange and white patch above her eye. My mother professed that this was the ugliest cat she had ever laid eyes on. Now she is a hefty creature of 10lbs and the orange and white patch has seemingly shrunk to nothing but a daub upon her fur. Dad used to sit in his chair and call to her from across the dining room, "hey, Ballsy...come here". He knew it was a ridiculous nickname but I always hear him in my head when she comes running to me, chattering in her cheerful mew.

So now I am 27 and Bali is almost 4 but the more things change, the more they seem to stay the same in this old house. I am curious to see what will be different about this year and what will remain as it is. I never really thought about coming this far before.