Life's a bitch, but motivation is a bastard

Quote du jour: People often say that motivation doesn't last. Well, neither does bathing. That's why we recommend it daily. -- Zig Ziglar

Can't I just lay me down to sleep and stop with the exercising already?

Okay, I'll confess. I did it! I murdered Colonel Mustard in the Conservatory with the wrench! Motivation has been rather thin around Chez Merry of late. It's about the only thing that could be described as thin.
But why bother trying?
What's the point?
What do you mean, 'depressed'?

Since I moved up to the frozen wilds of Oregon, I can generally count on February being pretty damn depressing, as months go. Now that March has started to Ide its way onto the stage, I'm beginning to think that maybe... just maybe... that "spring" thing they keep talking about might be willing to consider making an appearance. And in spring a young at heart, though not so much in the knees woman's thoughts turn toward exercise.

Any day now, I'm going to get my motivation back.

Last time I checked, it was standing by the side of the freeway, holding a sign that read "Maui or Wherever." (My motivation isn't proud. It just wants out of here. Did it think to invite me along? Of course not. Selfish, that's the only way to describe this sort of behavior.)

Still, when spring rolls around... my motivation is apt to slink in the back door, avoiding my eye and making small talk about how bad the roads have been and how hitching a lift isn't as easy as it used to be in the old days.

It's inevitable. Soon as the daffodils start blooming and the allergies start sneezing, Mr. Motivation shows up expecting me to take up the pursuit of exercise with him as if nothing had ever happened. The bastard. One of these days, I'm just going to change the locks.

Site du jour: "Italian Catholics Picket Parade, Jealous of Irish Catholic History of Oppression"

Exercise du jour: Look, don't expect great things. Me and Mr. M. are barely on speaking terms. Expect 20 minutes on the Elliptical. Maybe a couple miles walking. That's about it.

Done! Hey, some days (like this one), 20 minutes exercise is a friggin' miracle. I seem to recall reading that the ancients considered March to be the beginning of the new year. Maybe my body is simply responding to the rhythms of my Celtic ancestors. Hell, it's as good an excuse as any. For today, this was a victory.

February, you've outstayed your welcome

I am bored with winter.
And with trying to exercise in winter.
And with whining about trying to exercise in winter.

But wait! I know how to cheer myself up -- I'll write something brilliant and funny and heart-warming and endearing and totally, like, interesting and all that stuff! I am creative! I can write anything!

Um... no. Not today. Thus the urge toward self-expression is thwarted and diverted into the default behavior of searching on Google to see if someone else has something interesting to say.



I thought there might be some good sites out there on How To Make Exercising Interesting Even If It Is February, but they all involve me doing something that resembles hard work. So I found some other sites instead.

Equine Insanity wrote a good post about fear and animals.

The Ironic Catholic noted that a worldwide chocolate shortage brings people closer to God.



My new love Chart Porn posted a graph that charts women's earnings against men's earnings in the same field. Useful tip: don't go into banking if you're female.



An old post from An American Girl in Singapore led me to a fascinating study. You know how people of European ancestry used to complain that all Asians look alike? Turns out from the Asian perspective all Europeans look alike too. Caucasians and Asians don't examine faces in the same way.


A humorous site, stolen leveraged from PastaQueen, is the Malcolm Gladwell Book Generator. Create a best-seller, just by clicking!



And a video: Don't you ever interrupt me while I'm reading a book! (Stolen shamelessly from Librarians are weird.)


Photos of a hibiscus and condo on Maui, plus a random beach on Molokai. Sigh.

That kind of day

Quote du jour: Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions.
- Ranier Maria Rilke

Do you love your job? And if so, why?

Interesting fact du jour: The new Starbucks drink, the Trenta, is actually larger than the average human stomach.

But-it-sounds-so-true du jour: U.S. renews its contract with ground squirrels.

The Department of the Interior announced this week that ongoing negotiations with the nation's population of spotted ground squirrels have been resolved and that the rodents are now contracted to continue activities on U.S. soil through Dec. 31, 2015. [Source The Onion.]

Exercise du jour: 15 minutes with my stairmeister, Fred A. Stairs. Plus, squats, walking.
Done! Total of 1056 steps.

Impressive-looking graph courtesy of Webber.

Disaster averted

Quote du jour
Captain Sheridan: Are you trying to cheer me up?
Susan Ivanova: No sir, wouldn't dream of it.
Captain Sheridan: Good, I hate being cheered up. It's depressing.
Susan Ivanova: In that case we're all going to die horrible, painful, lingering deaths.
Captain Sheridan: Thank you, I feel so much better now.
- Babylon 5


Sunday afternoons flat out stink.

The combination of a weekend ending and having to face the thought of going back to work is hard to take. Especially on winter afternoons, when it gets dark so early. For some reason, that makes it seem like Monday's coming all that much sooner.

Anyway, that's my only explanation for the sudden impulse I gave in to:


I don't even like frozen pizza. It's as if the imp of bad eating simply wanted me to buy something bad, anything. It was sick of me being good.

Funny thing is, I bought the stuff and took it home, then realized that I didn't want to actually eat it. The eyes and the taste buds conspired to convince me that they really, really needed this stuff. The stomach said "Hell no!"

So disaster averted. Maybe just the act of buying the stuff was enough to satiate the impulse, some kind of shopping therapy? I have no idea, but I'm not complaining about the money I spent. It's cheaper than a therapist.

Reasons why not to blog

The desire to blog is similar to all the other biorhythms the flesh is heir to. In other words, the need to blog comes and goes for various reasons:


• Sometimes you just don't have the urge.


• Sometimes habit and momentum keep you going, the way a non-runner can keep jogging along to finish a 5k because she's done the couch-to-5k program and gotten into the habit.


• Sometimes the writing well runs dry, and you're stuck trying to choose between posting a photograph and a deeply profound quotation, or just saying @#!% and going off to catch up on the latest trendy new TV show.

This post is a sum off all those points: I don't want to, habit keeps me typing even though I don't have anything to say and maybe I should just stop.

Why I started this blog

This blog was set up to track and motivate my exercising. "Exercise, try, or post the reason why." I should be blogging about my lack of motivation, trying to reason it out and if possible fix the problem.

What holds me back is the nature of blogging itself.

If I'm not motivated, I said I would blog about that too. Except that when do this, I get a bunch of comments saying "just do it already." What I'm trying to get at is the why behind the non-motivation. If I can figure out what causes the non-m., then I can try to fix the problem instead of always trying to get by on blind bloody-minded stubbornness.

Another problem with posting a blog about lack of motivation

Blogland is an emotional magnifying glass. A little whine is rendered large on the blog, blown up into a melodramatic drama queen rant. A depression fest transforms into an extremely dark post that automatically attracts a horde of light, chipper 'feel better, lol!' comments. Which I find the equivalent of handing a band-aid to someone who's just gotten their arm chopped off: at best it's unhelpful and at the worst it's a blithe slap in the face.

So how do I blog about the problem without the post itself becoming a problem?

See? I'm typing away, trying to do some brainstorming on the page, and instead what my mind is doing is second-guessing (and third-guessing) all the possible outcomes of each road I could go down.

The facts

• Haven't exercised much.

The damn foot feels fine unless I use it. This presents me with a wonderful opportunity to be flexible and devote myself to bike riding and yoga. The trouble is that my mind is on track to run and damn it I don't want no bikes, yogis, or lolipops. I want to achieve the goal I'd set for myself.


• Stuck in an unproductive cycle.

I need to break the cycle I've fallen into. I stay at work until late, finishing things up, then I drive home, try to catch up on my social life, stay up late, get up late, get to work late, stay late finishing things up, then I drive home and lather, rinse, repeat. I find it very easy to get depressed about how my life seems stuck in an endless cycle. Interestingly, I don't get depressed when my life is in an endless cycle of exercising. Maybe I'll re-incarnate as a hamster, get my own wheel, and be happy.

Actually, that's pretty much it. To break the cycle, I need to put myself first once in awhile at work. Last time I did that it actually worked better for myself and for the job.

The Plan (Capital letters always look serious and important)

Goals for this week:

• Be flexible. If the foot says no, go with the flow. Yoga's not bad, neither is cycling. Even if neither is what I want, it's still exercise.
  


• Be selfish. If I put the exercising first, everybody's happy.

There. At least I've got a plan. I feel much better. Or at least I feel like I've got a plan.

High School and the Passive-Aggressive Subconscious

Sometimes my subconscious mind still thinks it's in high school. It gets passive-aggressively annoying.

You know the kind of thing. Usually encountered when dealing with teenagers of the female persuasion, but not invariably. They mope, they sigh, they look mournful. But if you ask what's wrong? The invariable answer: "Oh, nothing."

[deep sigh]

They expect you to guess what the problem is.

For heaven's sake. Things have come to a pretty pass when my subconscious expects me to read its mind. It's depressed about something, but I'm supposed to guess why. I'm going to assume it's work-related.

Times like this, my subconscious wants to drink red wine and read Neruda, Borges, or Rilke, poets who convince her that there's more to life than a 9-7 job every day. (When I was in high school, I used to skip algebra to go downtown and drink espresso and read C.S. Lewis, Jack Kerouac, and Gregory Corso, and try to convince myself that there was Life After High School. Turns out it's called High School 2: The Saga Continues. Just as well I didn't know that then.)

I mean, take last Thursday. The flesh was willing, but the spirit decided it was depressed and didn't want to work out. It just wanted to drink red wine and read poetry.

The logical side of the brain pointed out that Exercise Would Make You Feel Better Already, but to no avail. I was trying to lift a lead zeppelin with a weakling motivation.

I tried to be practical and try to figure out the problem. What the hell was worth the prima donna act? Sure, I'm less than thrilled with work. Suck it up, subconscious. You'd be more depressed if I were out of work and you had to deal with me sitting around the house all day, wearing scruffy clothing and slouching around.

Didn't work. Ended up doing Thursday's exercise on Friday night, just before midnight.

I hate it when the inner demons win out over the health & fitness part of my conscious mind. If my sub-c pulled this trick this up on a regular basis, I'd send it down to the local therapist's office for conversation and medication. Since it only acts like this once every semester, usually around mid-terms blue moon, I suppose I should let it have the occasional day off. Show mercy in the hopes that it will see sense. I mean, as frustrating as life gets sometimes, at least I'm not in high school.

Exercise du jour: Still trying for that 12 miles of cycling

Scrrrrrritch

I'm hopeless and helpless and my life is going nowhere and there's no point in trying to get fit or lose weight as I'm a loser in every other aspect of my life but this one...

scrrrrrrritch... this record's stuck in a groove...*

Okay, I've been reading a lot of blogs and comments from people who say they're feeling bleh and blah and just plain don' wanna any more. One commenter on Pasta Queen's blog referred to the other day as International Blah Day. So I know it's not just me.

I'm curious as to what's causing this. You'd think the depression-blah-blues would start next week, after Daylight Savings ends and it starts getting dark at 5 in the evening. While I admire my psyche's rare impulse to be proactive for once, I don't think this is the right direction. Why am I feeling so meh about life?


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Probably because I'm hopeless and pointless and I'll never do anything right and...

scrrrrrritch... okay, let's try this again...

Methinks I'm going to go hide in my room and listen to sad soulful ballads until I can figure out what the problem is. Can't stand hearing that scrrrrritch sound any more tonight.

*Yes, I realize that to many people this metaphor will not have much relevance. Hmph. Young whippersnappers.


Photo courtesy of

http://www.flickr.com/photos/endlessstudio/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Oh no! She said ... IT!

So this woman says to me... she says... brace yourself...

"But you have such a wonderful personality!"


Ack! Argh! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

If that's not the kiss of death, I don't know what is.

Exercise du jour:
90 minutes quite brisk walking



Photo credit: Oddsock

Altitudinal

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I think I have pinpointed the source of my depression: it's the altitude.

The thing is, I wake up each morning enjoying life. (Well, once I've managed to actually get up out of bed.) My dog is loving, my house is beautiful, the yard is looking wonderful. Life is good.


On the way to work, I enjoy the flower show; every yard or office building has a different color rose bush and they're all gorgeous.


This morning, I felt so good I sprinted the last half mile on my bike. (Note for future reference -- 1 half-mile sprint causes a bit of asthma-type wheezing. See if this improves.)

Then I climb the stairs, or take the elevator up to the top floor, step into the office, and at once a pall of despair comes down like a curtain.


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

See? I'm fine until I get to the third floor. Clearly, it's the altitude that's bringing me down.



Exercise du jour: 90 minutes cycling

Sore Gainer

Huh.

So, it's like this. I spent about 8 hours gardening yesterday. Wielding the (damn heavy) weed whacker over grass too long to mow, trimming lawns, pruning stuff, planting stuff, killing weeds by hand and by roundup and by digging the stubborn little bastids up by the root. I'd thought there were 'just a few' blackberry shoots, but they apparently multiplied when I wasn't looking. (That sound you just heard was the bitter laughter of many a Northwestern gardener.)

Long story short:

• Several hours physical labor.
• Not a lot of food.
• Very sore leg muscles.
• Unhappy arm muscles.
  
• Got up this morning to find that I've gained five pounds in two days.

People say "oh, it's just water." Somehow that doesn't leave me encouraged. They say "oh, you're building muscle." Since that doesn't translate to lost pounds or smaller pant sizes, it doesn't seem like a fair trade.

Then again, that co-worker last week could see a change.
Maybe this is Just A Phase. Or whatever.
But I'm depressed now.

Update du 8:40 pm
On the plus side, the sunburn was applied evenly, from the top of my forehead to the base of my throat. No awkward white patches.
On the downside, I've taken to wearing a wide-brimmed hat, even though these have been referred to as "Old-lady hats" by a friend and even though this is not the day to wear something "old-lady" ish.
On the plus side again, I was serenaded by three generations of family tonight. (Picky people might insist that my great-nephew was too young to sing, but his vocalizations sounded extremely tuneful to me.)

Okay, two plus, one minus, looks like I've come out ahead. Another day and another year older, but I'm ending the day on a positive note.

Quote du Jour

"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best," and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called. ~A.A. Milne

Quote from Winnie the Pooh, courtesy that A.A. Milne guy.
Photo courtesy of flickr.

One of those days

The autumn leaves are falling like rain,
Although my neighbors are all barbarians,
And you, you are a thousand miles away,
There are always two cups at my table.
- T'ang Dynasty

Photo courtesy of flickr.

Me and Scarlett O'Hara

As God is my witness, I'll never be fat or hungry again.
- What Scarlett O'Hara would have said if she'd been writing this blog.

Been having a rotten couple of weeks: family issues and a frankly insane work schedule has led to me being short of sleep and not doing well diet wise. The first week, I packed a lunch each day, but I didn't have time to eat it. The daily walks have been abandoned for the last week, while I work through lunch and am usually too tired to eat much dinner.

Friday, I thought the crunch time was over. I've been coming home too tired to exercise, so I made sure I took the time to do an aerobics video before I went in to work. Besides, I reasoned, I was damn well going to take a walk at lunch.

Except that when I arrived at my cubicle there were three people waiting for me, there was a crisis, millions of Euros riding on a deal and the extremely convoluted installation instructions had to be rewritten at the last minute. Walk? Ha. Healthy food? It is to laugh. Grab a doughnut as you pass the kitchen.

Two weeks of this and all my good habits have apparently taken a walk without me. And they haven't come back. This is starting to turn into a blog tracking my failure, not my success. Well, screw that.

I have made progress. I am closer to make eating vegetables and exercising daily a habit, something that I can do without thinking. I do good, then something always causing me to fall back into fast food and sloth. Too much pressure at work, lack of organization or motivation, something. So really the one habit I'm getting ingrained into my psyche is the one of getting back up and getting back into it again. Do good, fall down, get up and do good. It's automatic now. I'm not going to be deterred. I Have Spoken. (You'll have to picture me standing against a dramatic sunset, one fist raised defiantly to Heaven, "As God is my witness...")

Two things I am going to concentrate on:
1 - Make a point of taking some time off on the weekends, just to regroup. Working every weekend is stupid, no matter how Important the job. I can't function that way. I need to prepare vegetable food-stuffs on the weekend, since I don't have the time during the week.
2 - Make a point of shutting off work and stress and going to bed. I can't do everything. I can't make things better by stressing about what I can't do.

Frankly, my dear, I can't give a damn. - What Rhett Butler would have said if he'd been in this position.

(Oh come on. I had to say it.)

It's weird, but it feels better to write this. Usually anything that sounds too whiny makes me cringe. It was hard to write the thyroid post, because it felt too self-pitying. But I feel better acknowledging that I haven't done what I set out to do -- yet -- and that I have lost some ground in this battle.

And what the hell. Tomorrow is another day.

What goes up... is asking for it, really. Shouldn't piss off Gravity like that.

Seems inevitable that a high point will be followed by a plunge. Family issues, work stresses, watching my sick dog suffer, anything and everything have combined to really get me down right now.



What's surprising is how I'm dealing with the depression. Usually feeling this blue is a cue to reach for the comfort foods, or grab a glass of wine, or curl up in bed with the covers over my head -- basically to turn my back on life. I have spent years conditioning my body to demand this kind of behavior when I'm feeling depressed.


This morning I did none of those things.



Instead, I reached for an aerobics video and dealt with the blues by working out. The problems haven't gone away, but my attitude towards them has modified. That was what I was trying to achieve with the food/wine/avoidance too, but this time I feel better about myself, and I think the results might last longer. We'll see.




I'm rather surprised that this was my first inclination, rather than the usual comfort-seeking tactics. I haven't been working out all that long, about six weeks, but it's encouraging to think that even this level of exercise is enough to start to change the body's conditioned response.

Unless I'm reading too much into this.


Note: the cool picture up top is from Flickr