My Death

I have decided on a few good ways to die. The best way would be in my peaceful sleep next to my husband when I am 95 years old. The next best way would be to die in my sleep even if my husband weren't there with me when I am 95. After that, the ways are all downhill from there. Nothing other than those two ways would really be preferable, but there are a few I can think of that I would not like. I would not like to fall off of something really high. The anticipation of what was coming would really suck. I would not want to drown, because I just can't imagine getting water in my lungs. I would definitely not want to die in a fire because of the tremendous pain. But, mostly? I would not want to die while running. That's truly how I felt this morning and I think I would have keeled over at any moment if I didn't know my kids were home by themselves and I was half a block away from them.

Today was my "Wednesday's going to suck, I have to run five miles" day. Normally, these past few long runs, I have done really well on my time, I have never stopped to walk; I have been really proud of the way I have performed these last few times. Today's run stopped that trend dead in its tracks, no pun intended. I was SO tired. I think that was the main problem. I wasn't thirsty, I had a drink the whole time. I was kind of sore from the weight lifting I had done the day before. I was really tired from the fact that I had gone to bed around midnight the past two nights. Ugh. Just so you all know, running would not be the way to go. Do yourselves a favor and remember that when we all plan our deaths, don't make running the way we die. It's just not worth it!

My Proposition

Everyone has their free agency. Everyone has their issues too; whether it be addiction, depression, anxiety, or any other number of things. With that free agency we are free to decide if that addiction or other problem is going to rule our life or not. As I have mentioned in my previous blogs, I firmly believe I have an addiction to food. When I am tired, I eat. When I am bored, I eat. At family functions, I eat until I am beyond stuffed, then I eat more because it tastes good. I have always tried many ways to succeed in kicking this habit and I have been sort of successful on many occasions. But, usually, I end up losing my motivation, mainly because I don't feel I am worth fighting for. My friends, my kids, my family, my husband...those people are worth fighting for. But, for some reason, I struggle with that concept when it comes to myself.

The other day I had an epiphony while I was driving. If I can't stay motivated for myself, maybe I can stay motivated for someone else. No one else in my life has a weight problem that they are in a position to do anything about at the moment, so that is out the window. Then, I thought of one of my dear friends who is really struggling with their own addiction right now: alcohol and tobacco. Those are very powerful addictions as well, and maybe my friend would want to try to quit using those crutches in their life and I can stop using my crutches with them. So, I made a proposition to my friend the other night. Basically, the idea of my friend hurting their health by smoking and drinking really hurt me. I know how I felt when Mike and I were dating and I was trying to get him to quit those things. It was tough to stand there feeling helpless and watch him ruin his life. So, I helped him quit. Granted, things were different between me and Mike than they are between me and my friend. Nonetheless, my desire for them to quit is as strong as my desire was for Mike to quit. Why not use that desire to my own benefit as well?

My friend agreed to my proposition last night and we signed our own little contract. I was on Cloud Nine. If one of us messes up on our side, it allows the other to mess up on theirs. I certainly don't want to mess up on my side, thus allowing my friend a serving of alcohol or a cigarette. We are doing this through the end of the year. It's our Good Health Contract. It is my hope that if we are successful through the end of the year, those cravings won't be so strong for either of us and we will be able to move ahead on our own. If not, maybe we will write up another contract--who knows. In the meantime, if I can't stay motivated for myself, I know I can stay motivated for my friend. In a small way, my friend's life may depend on it. I know, I know it's a big commitment--for both of us really. But, my friend is worth it. I am worth it.

My Clean House...or Not

I grew up in a very strictly-clean house. My mom ran it like a museum, teaching us from the very beginning to clean up after ourselves at every turn. We had rotating job charts, the "time-out basket" (a basket my mom would put our toys in for a week if she had to pick it up. We couldn't play with that toy until the week was done. Needless to say, the basket was usually pretty full.) Mom was a stickler for keeping a clean home, which certainly isn't a bad thing, but very difficult for us kids to live up to Mom's standards. I learned how to clean like a pro, and to this day, when I want to, I can clean a mean toilet. But, those are the key words: when I want to. Which is usually...never. Nada. Uh-uh. Not gonna do it. My siblings on the other hand, are a different story.

Caradon is a very neat and tidy person. Everything has it's place, everything needs to be in a certain order. But, she is not really "clean" either, at least not according to Mom's standards. On the surface everything looks good. "Blitzed" as Dad would call it. But, if you really look, she has just as much dust as I do, and her floors aren't always mopped like mine are never, and her toilet has only slightly less bite to it than mine. But, her beds are actually made, her dishes are always done, and her counters are always cleaned, and her laundry is ALWAYS done! That's Caradon's favorite chore, and mine as well. It takes the least amount of effort...that's why I like it. I am not sure why Caradon likes it.

Adam is the hyper version of my mom. If that's even possible. It's like he took everything she taught us and multiplied it by ten and added two. The man HATES dirt. On his mission, his companions called him Danny Tanner. Anyone who is familiar with the show "Full House" will understand that reference. Luckily for him, Katie, his wife, is on the same boat as he is, so they work well together as a team making sure their home is presentable and clean. Again, a really great thing! Just not the way I roll...

Then, there is little Samantha. I think she is a happy medium between Adam and Caradon. She is clean, and actually quite a little germ-o-phobe. But, at the same time, she doesn't have little kids to clean up after and all her housemates are adults, so I am willing to bet, they all work together well in cleaning. Hmmm, to be quite honest, I haven't been over to her house enough to give you an idea of what kind of housekeeper in general she is. Sorry, Sam, I will have to eventually work on that one! =)

As for me, well, I am the complete opposite of my mom, my siblings and everyone in the world combined when it comes to cleanliness. On the rare occasion when my house is actually presentable, it is very nice. I can remember one of those times back in Oregon. One of my best friends, Brianna, used to come over and hang out quite often. So, she saw the house in it's normal state. I can remember one day that she popped by after I had done a top-to-bottom scrubdown and it looked pretty dang good. She was in awe..."Wow, Lindsay, the house is really clean," was her comment. I laughed and then I thought, "How sad, Lindsay. You really need to clean the house more often so that you don't always have to warn people before they come in the door or apologize to them before they use your bathroom. You really should have some clean dishes on hand for people or actually have clean laundry for people to wear." But, then I remembered who I am, and I just shrugged. Eh, I'll do it tomorrow...maybe.

My Addiction

I have decided to take my aunt's advice and not be so hard on myself...starting tomorrow. For now, I have to have one last blog in an attempt to kick myself in the butt toward success! Now, for those of you who know me, I tend to be a perfectionist in some aspects of my life. Grades are one of those areas--if I don't get A's, I get very hard on myself. Crafty stuff tends to be in one of those areas as well--I like the products of my hard labor to be beautiful and without obvious flaws. One area of my life, however, that does not fall into the perfectionist category is my weight loss.

Like most people who struggle with this, I tend to do really well for about two or three months. I stick to my exercise regime and my eating plan like glue, never wavering. But, for some reason, when I hit that twenty-pound mark, I most definitely start to waver. I don't even know why either! Maybe my subconscious says, "Okay, Lindsay, enough is enough. You can't possibly do this so don't even try!" It's very frustrating, because in my heart I know I can do it. Heck, if I can give birth to four children, I can do anything! I have reached that wall again, just like always. Runners talk all the time about "runner's walls". Those are these blocks that you hit when your body finally can't go anymore. But, most runners would also agree that those "walls" are very much psychological, and you would be surprised what you could actually do if you just push yourself through those walls. I have hit my wall in the food area of my life, and even though it's all completely psychological, that addiction to food is very strong and very real. And, I don't use the term addiction lightly. I am fully aware of what that means and it is very applicable to me.

So, what am I trying to say here? I don't really even know...I shouldn't be hard on myself. I am a beautiful person, with lots of good qualities. I'd like to think I would have a full room of people at my funeral someday. But, I also want to be able to not rely on food for my happiness or my release of boredom. I don't want it to be all I think about from the moment I wake up each day until the moment I fall asleep. That's definitely something I would like to be a perfectionist about...I'll work on that.

My Foot

Man, I don't know what I did, but I have been in a funk, and I think the culprit is my foot. I woke up early on Monday morning to go running--a really quick one, only two miles. I started to notice that my left foot was hurting, but not enough to REALLY notice, ya know? But, I welcomed the break from running on Tuesday and that evening, Mike rubbed my feet for me. It was the ball of my foot, on the outer edge. It felt a little tight still, so he rubbed it which seemed to make it feel better. But, the next morning, I woke up and got out of bed to run again, and I almost collapsed when I stepped onto the carpet because of the pain in my foot. I couldn't believe how painful it was! When I would try to stretch my feet and toes out, I couldn't do it for fear of screaming and waking everyone in the house. I was really bummed because I was really looking forward to my run.

So, I sat around all day being incredibly lazy and really unproductive and it got me into a funk. My house was a wreck (which isn't unusual, so that shouldn't have any effect on me anymore) and I had to keep ice on my foot and take Advil. Poor little Audrey always has way too much responsibility on her on an everyday basis, let alone when Mom is incapacitated! She was a tremendous help, though, as were all the kids. I sure am blessed! Anyway, every day has been slightly better and this morning I was able to walk on it almost completely fine without any abnormal feelings. Needless to say, though, the funk, mixed with the lack of exercise, and the upcoming visit from Aunt Flo did nothing good for my neverending quest to lose weight! I put the scale in the closet. Not even going there! =)