Ever have one of those weeks where you know you just have to dig in, shut up and get to work? Last week of tri training and I’m getting tired and honestly, a little bored. Work stress has my skin looking like I’m in high school, and this morning I found myself staring at a clump of hair that had fallen out in the shower. Fabulous.
Never a fan of wallowing, I realize it’s time to tie a ribbon in my pony tail, slap on some lip gloss and grab a cup of espresso. Life is too short to spend even one day sitting around feeling sorry for myself. I refuse.
Today, I’m celebrating:
~ Cooling temperatures and long sleeve shirts on morning bike rides
~ Pumpkin everything. Pumpkin bagels, lattes and my new favorite dessert: non-fat vanilla yogurt mixed with a 1/2 cup of pumpkin puree with a dash of cinnamon. Giddyup.
~ Having time to knit and challenging myself to learn new techniques. This week — intarsia. Any suggestions?
~ New music, namely Imogen Heap, Modest Mouse and Jay-Z Unplugged. My hips shake even when I’m sitting at my desk — although I don’t recommend listening to Jay at work. More than once I’ve been red faced when a coworker has come into my office just as my rap music begins describing women crassly.
~ Friends with lots of ambition who inspire me to be better every day
~ Seeing a cute new boy in the pool and then proceeding to kick his butt in the workout. I’m competitive to a fault.
Here’s hoping all of us who are struggling at the moment take a second to remember that we are in control of our happiness and life is just a matter of attitude. Ain’t nobody going to get me down… oh no, I’ve got to keep on movin’.
P.S. Sounds like many of you either avoided your reunion or attended and also had an odd experience. I guess it was such a strange night because I loved high school. I was a dork, but I loved studying, being involved, etc. I knew lots of people at the reunion and was expecting we’d all just pick up where we left off. Instead, each conversation seemed to entail shoveling through superficial baloney for 10 minutes before I got to what they were really doing and how they were feeling. Then I found myself uncharacteristically shy about what I was doing. It was a bit taxing and I’m sure would have been more tolerable if I’d been drinking. Alas, the Margarita Maven is on the wagon until I cross the tri finish line.