One Day at a Time

"The only way to live happily ever after is to do it one day at a time."
 -- Unknown


As of tomorrow, I will have lived 9,125 days here on this earth. 

Over 9,000 days.

That's a whole ton of sunrises and sunsets, of breakfasts and lunches, of ice cream cones and barefoot miles.

That's more tears than I can count, more hugs that have warmed my body and kisses that have made my soul soar.

In that amount of time, I have lived in four different states six different times (seems like I can't get away from the southwest).  I have cycled countless miles along the beach and up in the mountains.  My face has gotten sunburned and windburned and eaten by mosquitoes (don't ask).  

Looking back over more than 9,000 days is mind boggling.  So much has happened in those days.  So much has changed, whether it is my hair style, my shoe size or the boy who is holding my hand.  And yet, so much has stayed the course. My parents have loved me every single day, regardless of what I did in the 24 hours before or the 24 hours after.  I know that just like the sun will come up, they will love me.  That is a gift that not everyone can say they have.

I met my favorite person around day 824.  Even today, at the 9,124th day, and again in another 9,000 days, she will be the bestest sister a girl could ever wish for, or even have the gall to ask for.

Around day 8,245, I was a graduate for the third time in my life.  Wait, do I count kindergarten and 8th grade graduation in that?  Hmmmm...probably not.  Three times I have gotten up on a stage when my name was read, reveling in the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, finality and beginnings, while also being scared out of my ever-loving mind.  I have become an educated woman who is constantly wondering, asking and learning.  I don't know exactly when babies become curious beings, but I am still as curious now as I was that day.







I lost my grandpa around the 6,390th day.  That was one of a handful of truly, deeply, heart-wrenchingly sad days of my time here. I have been blessed to have lived, so far, an extremely happy life, one that hasn't been hidden under rain clouds or despair.

Between days 8,925 and today, I fell in love and have given my heart, fully, to another human being.  Hopefully there are more days that feel like these in my future.






 

I became responsible for a life somewhere in the 8,000's.  Every day has been a learning experience: Dogs like to chew carpet.  Dogs like to pee on carpet.  Carpet starts to smell after being peed on too many times.  Dogs like to lick you.  Dogs eat a lot of food.  Dogs need a ton of exercise.  Dogs are truly wo(man)'s best friend. 





People always say, "Man, am I old," in reference to themselves.  And in some cases, it's justified...if you're 89 years old and have lived a full life.  But don't tell me that at the age of 28 or 34, you can truly call yourself old.  Sure, you might be 10,220 days into life, or even 12,410 days.  But what is that compared to 32,485 days.

32,485 days.  89 years. 

That's what I'm striving for (and more).  I want each and every one of those days to combine together to make a happily ever after.  I'm already a third of the way there, and think of all I have experienced up 'til now.  

Here's to tomorrow...and the next day...and the next...

Bring On the Peas

I decided something today.

I have to take care of my body.  That is why I am taking this week off from running and icing my foot as much as possible.  No running.  Hmmmm....

Ok, let's take a step back.  I'm feeling a little twinge on the top of my left foot, which I have felt before.  But this time, it's hurting a little bit more so I don't want to take any risks - I don't want this to become a full-blown stress fracture. 

Also, I should disclose that I'm not one to NOT take care of myself and my body.  When I start feeling a cold coming on, I chug as much Emergen-C and hot tea as I can.  Preventative measures always work better than trying to tackle these types of situations as they happen.  I've been trying to ice and stretch as much as I can to keep my body limber and happy.

This time seems different to me, though.  This time, I'm ok with not running for a week because I know that it is better in the long run for me (get it ... long run ... heh ... heh).  This time, I'm not frustrated with being "injured."  Somewhere along the line, I've come to the realization that running is hard on anyone's body.  It is inevitable that things are going to hurt and time off is usually the best healer.  Time and frozen peas, which are my lifesavers.

Now that I've come to peace with injuries as part of the joy of running, I feel really good about this decision.  Although I have to ignore the pull to get out in the morning, I am trying to relish the warm moments in bed that I have instead.  I'm going to do some elliptical cross-training and weight lifting, but will focus on getting my body feeling better and healthy.   

I know I've made this post all about just one week off from running.  And in the grand scheme of things, it's not a super big deal.  But for me, I want to commemorate this week because it is the first time that I've acknowledged that injuries exist and that I need to be ok with that.  And I am.  So, later, when I start complaining about how injuries are horrible and how I can't stay positive when I can't do the one thing I want to do, remind me to take a look at this post.  Hopefully I'll keep my cool and go grab a bag of frozen peas.

Pain, pain, go away

I woke up this morning in pain.  What a horrible way to start the day.

This time, it was my calves.  They were about as tight as a rubber band on the biggest rubber band ball.  I felt a deep, bruising ache that made it hard to want to get out of bed, much less walk the dog.  But as all dog owners know, there are consequences when you don't let them relieve themselves in a timely fashion.

I am guilty of maybe the worst crime in running circles.  Hi, my name is Anica and I don't stretch.  I've just never been a big fan of stretching or taking the time to stretch.  I have these old memories of sitting on itchy, new grass on a track infield while the captains (usually cute, older sprinters) led us through a stretching routine.  It always involved some bouncing (reach those toes, kids!) and counting to 10...boring! Plus, I had a cross country coach who also wasn't a big proponent of stretching.  Sure, we did some at the beginning of practice, but he never spouted wisdom as to why stretching was good for us.

I even did a stint with a physical therapist who showed me the correct way to stretch out my muscles.  And I have to say, even now, some of them feel really, really good.  And I can see the benefits.  But I've never been able to get into the routine of stretching at night before hitting the sack, or getting up five minutes earlier to stretch before running.

And now, I'm paying for it.  Getting old sucks.

So, today I went up to the gym during lunch and did a solid 30 minutes of stretching and lengthening.  I felt better afterwards, but was really craving my Stick and foam roller, both of which I have at home.  While static stretching can help, I really like the way my body feels after rolling out.  The roller can pinpoint tight spots very quickly and can help release that tension, something that's hard to do while reaching for your toes.  I will definitely put both the roller and Stick to work tonight and see if I can get more of the kinks out of my calves, especially.

I think it might be time to splurge on a massage.  I've found that when my body gets too tightly wound, stretching & rolling & self-massaging & icing just don't help.  My body needs a professional's touch.  It might be that time.