Welcome home.

I’ve been feeling like shit. Like my body is a dumping ground for pizza pie, processed cheese, hamburger greeez, beer, wine, and extra crispy French fries. About a year ago I stopped exercising — worse, I stopped caring — that’s how I reacted to a huge life shift, in career, home, community, etc. Then my coffee maker died. It felt as if every last piece of me, what I once was, was being stripped away bit by bit and left along the roadside in a wake of scattered debris. More about that some other time.

“You can have the courage to climb the mountain, swim the lakes, go on a raft to the other side of the Atlantic or Pacific. That any fool can do, but the courage to be on your own, to stand on your two solid feet, is something which cannot be given by somebody.” ― U.G. Krishnamurti, The Courage to Stand Alone

The point being, in response to all of the change, I chose to stop taking care of myself. Healthy reaction, I know. Life happens. Sometimes during a difficult time you cannot see the forest or even the damn trees. Sometimes the only thing you can focus on is the low-light under a pile of covers for days on end. And you’re completely okay with that. And that’s okay too. But at some point you must reemerge, ideally. Some call that the Hero’s Journey—some emerge on the other side, some do not. But if you do eventually come up for air, that’s when you have to ask yourself, now what?

The good news: fast forward a year and I am in a new career, one that I love, putting a hard-earned degree to work in a creative industry that speaks to my core. I can finally say at the age of 48, I love what I do for a living.

The bad news: My current habits aren’t great. Inch by inch over the last year as my eating habits have declined my lethargy has increased in direct disproportion. I’ve gained some weight. Current BMI: 25. Overweight. A BMI of 30 and above is considered obese.

The nearest CrossFit from my new home is an hour drive. CrossFit has always been my go-to in staying a healthy course. But now, I can barely remember what it is like to hit a WOD, to work my body at max output. I miss the feeling of that level of physical exertion. Pushing past a place of, “I don’t think I can,” to “I did it!” There’s nothing quite like it. I also miss the people. Sure, I have been on a couple walk/runs, scant 3 mile jaunts where I walk more than run and all I want to do is turn around and go home and give up for good.

Why bother? I’ve asked myself over and over. I’m too far gone.

Really. Seriously. Why bother?

But eventually, you do. You have to. So I’m beginning again, again, again… Since there’s no CF locally, I’m starting slow with what long ago would have been considered a warm-up. That may sound snarky, but it’s true, and it’s okay. Your level of work is directly proportional to your level of work. I have no idea what that means except everyone has a different threshold, and while I’ll most likely never revisit the PRs I once knew, I’m happy to start on a path that just gets me moving consistently again, clearing my mind and my body of bloat and fog. How will I do this? Well, here’s the plan:

  1. Embark on a 5 day Bone Broth Fast. The benefits are many. And when you’re standing on a precipice like the one I’ve been tight-rope-walking the last twelve months or so, nothing but a total and complete drastic reboot will do. It’s all or nothing at this point. No room for rationale or bargaining. What happens after the Bone Broth? TBD.
  2. Start moving. Every single day.
  3. If I can’t go to the mountain, I’m gonna’ bring the mountain to me, stone by stone… i.e. get creative. Figure out how to incorporate what has long seemed like home into my new home. (See photo.)
  4. Write. Here in this place. And other places. Just write. It’s what I love. It’s who I am. Side note: For those of you that used to read this blog many years ago, you’ll remember my best-four-legged buddy, Oliver. His photos are populated throughout this url. The outline of his profile is the inspiration for the logo. He’s since passed away, a year ago next month. While his nose prints may have all but faded from my windows, I’m not erasing his image from this blog. Rather, his presence is a trusted source of inspiration, a compatriot. I do have a new furry friend now, Maverick, and we’re getting to know one another.

And so it is with a soldered-spirit that I acknowledge what was with a commitment to what is. Like coming home. Onward.


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