Each day I go out, I wonder if I can go to that next mailbox.
Now that I have completed the first cycle of 15, I am starting over. The first many are far from each other.
Today I did complete #17, the next one along, and I did it in 43 minutes even.
At the 15-mailbox mark today I was at 35.5 minutes, which as I recall compares very favorably with what I did a few days ago - only I can't look at early posts and see!
Last week sometime it took me 41 minutes to do something like 13 mailboxes.
I'm just really pleased to be seeing some progress. I'm looking ahead to the physical for our mission and I don't want any corporeal indiscretion to cause me to have limitations put on my papers.
So every extra step means Samarkand or Ulan Bataar here we come! PL
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4 comments:
That's how I feel about my body and life in general. So many times I think we limit ourselves by saying, "I can't do such and such because...." Instead we should be saying, "I need to such and such and so in order to reach that goal, I'll have to...."
I really REALLY feel that way about childbirth adn mothering. But everybody knows I'm obsessed.
Last fall I struggled with walking, and it shocked and dismayed me, and as it continued, really made me doubt whether I would ever be able to do certain things again. Or anything! Then I decided to fight it. We walked in Anacortes without any real sign of gain, so here I decided to employ the old mailbox trick. I think it works because there's always a sign of progress, which is crucial to my sense of whether something is worth bothering with.
Like going to your midwife appt and getting measured and all the signs of progress around that.
And then the baby! And then the toddler... But then it gets complicated because in the older kids you can see problems or oddities emerge along with the greater height and shoe size and vocabulary.
And those complexities certainly don't ease up as they become grown up! But you'll see about that later.
One question to ask, I think, is what lies beyond childbearing? At some point, we're all done, and we know it. How then will we define ourselves?
I know what I decided about myself at this stage, and I know what I should probably have decided about myself, but live and learn! It's every woman's journey to weather that transition, and all I'm willing to say is that there's a huge long life after the last child has emerged and the end of life.
In fact from my perspective it looks like the childbearing years are a phenomenon that gets the human race perpetuated but surely is not a big fraction of either the time or the interest.
But every pg woman is entitled to her obsessions about childbirth, and in fact we are all entitled to our obsession about what we are focused on for good.
Which is why I have this blog!
Thanks for commenting...
I'm proud of your persistence. I never see a difference when I exercise unless I set myself up with specific goals-- and the mailboxes are great for that!
Maybe I should start running again!
it's interesting that for me the mailboxes are little signs of progress, as is the timing of them.
But as for results, I leave that to my body, on principle. I trust it to the best it can under the circumstances. So I don't have goals of weight or girth or cholesterol. And it's a goog thing because I don't have control over those things directly, either.
Plus, they're complex results of all the conditions I hand it.
So I just count mailboxes. Easier.
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