Quarantine Pounds

Quarantine pounds.  Who would have thought there would ever be such a thing?  And that I would become a victim of it.  After several months of feeling like a slug, I decided to do something about it.  I’ve started walking a mile and ½ most mornings.  Although it’s only been a couple of weeks,  I keep reminding myself that 30 days makes a habit, right?

Several other people seem to have already made walking my route their habit.  I see them each morning.  One man being pulled along by his three dogs, a young boy and his dad, the guy jogging and checking his apple watch continuously, the young woman in her Kate Hudson Fabletics and ear pods looking beautiful (while sweat accumulates under my bra line and drenches my 20 year old Detroit Tigers’ shirt that is my walking uniform.) After so long in quarantine, the hesitant smile, friendly nod or occasional good morning has been a nice bonus.  I did not realize how much I had missed human interaction and connection, regardless of how brief.

When I first decided to walk, I found myself being a bit self-conscious when other walkers and joggers would ‘lap me’.  That feeling of not being good enough would rise up.  Today was different.  While on my route this morning, I met an elderly woman walking with her cane.  She was struggling a little, not moving very quickly but still smiling, and I realized she was doing the best she could.  I felt like God gave me a little smack in that moment.  Because we are all just doing the best we can, aren’t we?  There will always be someone faster, thinner, better looking, (fill in the adjective you most struggle with).  As I continued my walk, I decided to do my best to remember why I was walking and focus on the enjoyment rather than what I was lacking.  Or rather what I thought I was lacking.  Someone once said comparison is the thief of joy.  I realized joy is something I want to fight for.  I am not allowing it to be stolen.  It is something I want more of in my life.  Not only the big joys but also the small moments of joy each day that truly make up our lives.   So I will continue to walk in the ratty old t-shirt that I’m comfortable in and enjoy the nods and smiles and hellos, as I work on feeling less like a slug and more human again.   I am also committing to begin the tough work on who and what I allow to define me.  Quarantine pounds will not be one of them.

Death and Life

Life and Death. Bookends.  The space in between a blip.  Especially so as I grow older.  I attended my aunt’s funeral last week.  She was in her mid-80’s,  joyful and fairly healthy up to the day she passed away in her sleep.  Pretty perfect, right? And yet, still so much sadness and regret.  Regardless of how long we live, it is never long enough.

That same weekend I spent the day with my grandbabies.   (How is it even possible that I’m a grandmother?  There’s that “blip” thing again.) They are different ages, pretty much stair steps.  The day consisted of ice cream mustaches, muddy feet, donuts and bees.  Mermaids and princesses, laughter, joy and some tears.  Every moment a memory in the making.  Have you ever been so overwhelmed with love and gratitude that you almost couldn’t breathe?  When I looked at those dirty feet and sweet faces, that was me.

As I watched them I thought about my Aunt Goldie.  I wondered if she had felt – even at 85 – as if it had only been a blink since she was playing in the mud, eating ice cream, holding her grandma’s hand.  My guess would be like it was yesterday.

Grab every opportunity to make a memory.  Love Big.  And don’t be afraid to get muddy.