Pulling myself together

My father died on Wednesday, March 12th. I spent Thursday traveling to Texas, then joining up with my siblings to handle his affairs. There was drama involved – not among the four of us, but related to our father’s friends. Daddy was an alcoholic with a soft heart and a lot (not all) of his “friends” were leeches. The drama was not fun, but thanks to two wonderful sisters and one wonderful brother, we made the whole as pleasant as possible. We were unified – tired and stressed, but unified. The other good part was that I got to go home to Fort Worth and, in spite of the circumstances, enjoy it. I love my hometown and it felt good to be there.

My older sister and I, both getting back into running, optimistically agreed to bring running clothes, thinking we’d run along the Trinity River Trail in the mornings. HA! We were drained and tired and not sleeping well. Running didn’t happen. Except once. We’d kept up our step count throughout the days of activity (we both wear the Fitbit One), but on Saturday, we were falling short. Older sister said she was going to go run a little. I could hardly let her best me, so I sighed and flopped up to the loft area where I was staying to change, too. I’d like to add that we’d both had at least one glass of white wine and we’re both lightweights.  And it was raining. No matter. We slogged outside, hopping puddles to get to the paved trail and did some walk/running until we felt surely we’d not only made our step goal, but our active minutes goal. NOT. We got back to the room, synced our devices and saw that we were still short. This time I clutched my Fitbit in my hand, set the stopwatch and we took off. Rain or not, we had a good time. My Dear Sister was cold, which I found hilarious since it was in the 60’s and I’d come from 33 degree weather with a nasty wind chill. She was a sport, though, considering she lives in Austin and a rainy 60-something IS relatively cold. I didn’t use RunKeeper or anything to track my distance, so no idea how much we ran and we walked a good deal, too. She has a lot of discomfort running on cement, so I felt like a rock star since I hadn’t run in four days, she weighs a lot less than I do and I was able to run much more than she was. I didn’t like leaving her behind, though, so I’d run a bit and then wait.

That was the last time I ran. It’s been six days now.

I’ve also eaten a ton of crap since then. First it was just getting through the grief and giving myself a pass for a few days. Then this past weekend my sweet boyfriend and I took a road trip we’d had planned and I don’t care if the Amish do bike up and down those hills, I wasn’t gonna.

Today, however, after feeling low yesterday and feeling stiff for days now, I got my poop in a group and packed healthy meals and snacks. I also packed my gym bag. I’m tired of feeling so run down and sad. I need an endorphin boost. Don’t get me wrong, I in no way feel like going to the gym and getting on the treadmill sounds like fun. Going to bed sounds like fun. But gaining back all the weight I lost, getting more stiff, feeling worse…that sounds like hell to me. So it’s off to the gym I go this evening.

My plan is to start week 3 of my couch to 5K over again since week 4 was hard enough when I was running regularly. I hope I haven’t lost too much of my fitness, but if I have, it just means I need to keep at it to get it back. It’s time to pull myself together and let my father lead by example of how NOT to live. I love him. I will continue to mourn and miss him. I do not want to hide my head in the sand the way he did. It’s time to start showing myself I care again.

Run on, y’all.

Love,
Cassia

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