Okay. The title is a little dramatic for the subject, but for too many of us it is truth. Running hurts. It hurts to breathe while running. Shins ache when you first start. Funny jiggling on saddle bags sort of sting (unexpected). And forget the pain of the next two days if you pushed yourself too hard. It's almost enough to call in sick for. So how does a person get started? Overcoming the mental battle.
Every year for the past uncountable, I've dreaded the mandatory fitness test required by my Air National Guard Unit. I made it through mostly by doing an aerobic step test and hoping my heart rate really would slow down enough. And usually it did, so I was fine. But I guess I wasn't the only one who wasn't really staying fit. The Air Force began to do random fitness tests and found that too many of her personnel would fail in the random tests, even though some of them tested 'Excellent' during the programmed annual test. So now the Fitness Test is a lot more demanding. It happens twice a year for Active Duty and asks the older Guard community to get thinner and faster in order to keep a passing score. Couple that with turning 42 and being the heaviest I've EVER been (even 9 months pregnant with 10lb babies) and I'm paying attention. Never mind that if I don't get started early, the consequence could mean losing my job. As a single mother with 3 kids and only an Associates Degree, I know there isn't a better paying job with health care out there. I've got to get active and now.
So, guess what? I am. It may be a little premature, but for the last 4 days I've been getting outside and working my body. The first day I did a walk/run for two miles, the second a walk, the third walk/run, today a walk. I am trying to start a habit while shaping my body. Shaping it to withstand running without wanting to die. Shaping it to fight against the thick middle that's almost erased my hour glass figure (thanks to sitting all day, everyday).
My goal right now is the run a 5K on 28 August. The 5K is called "Run Like a Dog" and it supports the Thurston County Humane Society. Since three of my four animals are rescues (four if you count my orange long hair cat being saved from a cardboard box titled "FREE" and then inoculating and neutering...)--it's a cause I believe in. And the 5K is 2 weeks before my annual fitness test. So, yay! I have a goal, and I'm working it. That in itself is facing the obstacle. And doing it slowly makes the pain of training more bearable. More embraceable.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Life With My Son
Life With My Son:
As a parent with more than one, you learn that your love and dedication to each is different. Not to say more or less, just different. For example, I have higher expectations from my teenage adult daughter. She gets frustrated, wondering why I don't pack her a lunch... really? And then there's baby girl, who I do baby a bit, but totally see as capable so I encourage her to test her limits. Finally there is my son. And frankly, he is my Achilles heel.
What that means is, I know and understand my daughters' strengths and weaknesses. I know where I need to push them and where I need to step in and assist. But with Isaac, I'm at a loss. Sure, it's partly because he's male. But I have brothers, I understand boys. I always wanted a son that I could play boy stuff with and unleash my inner tom-boy. And with Isaac, I do get to do that. He likes cars. He likes Iron Man, Transformers, Star Trek, Hot Wheels, Pirates ... really, the list doesn't end. But, he also has some quirks that set him apart from his peers. The first being that he doesn't really understand how to be a friend. He understands it a little bit. Friends play. Sometimes friends will play what he wants; Luke Skywalker. Sometimes they begin their own game while he continues his theme parallel to their new theme. Mostly the "they" is just one boy, Isaac's one friend, my best friend's son Alec. Alec is gifted. He understands Isaac, but he is a social genius along with other genius qualities. Frankly, he plays with Isaac the way he understands Isaac needs him to. And he enjoys it, until he transitions.
Friday, when we pulled into our driveway, the new boy next door came over and stood by Isaac's door. He waited for him to come out, quietly, to surprise him. He wanted Isaac to play. Isaac finally noticed him and scowled. My daughter began talking to the boy while Isaac walked over to me and asked, "What does he want?" "He wants to play son, say 'Hi' to him." I explained. Isaac yelled over to him, "Hi, I, uh gotta go." Dustin was no longer paying attention to Isaac and Isaac didn't try to see if Dustin was listening. He went inside. That's just an example of how he interacts with most kids.
Isaac was diagnosed, after many years and many frustrations, with PDD-NOS. It is an Autism Spectrum Disorder that stands for Pervasive Developmental Delay, Not Otherwise Specified. Isaac is just a little too social for "regular" Autism. He also had a language delay, which automatically disqualifies him for Aspergers. Otherwise, Aspergers fits nicely. He went years without a diagnosis. Until he finally was diagnosed with ADHD. And then ODD. And then Anxiety. Oh, and recognized for having sensitivity issues... to sound, to food and clothing textures--and a nod has been given to his obsessive tendencies. Finally, in 2008, the DSM changed the criteria for Autism Spectrum Disorders and Isaac qualified under PDD-NOS.
All along I've understood that Isaac isn't quite Autistic in the sense of true Autism. After all, he is affectionate. He can hold conversations. He can play act, to a degree. Therefore, I've felt it not appropriate to reach out to the ASD community. Parents of children with Autism and Aspergers have children that may or may not function as adults some day. I've always felt Isaac will (while in the back of my head I'm pretty sure he's never moving out). Isaac spends most of his time in a regular classroom. He has an IEP that allows him to go to a quiet area if he becomes over stimulated. (This doesn't always work. The principal has had to be called only to be cussed at, stomped on and bitten, multiple times.)
And because the medical community has been unsure about Isaac's issues, so have I. And the school had to battle with me and me with them and us with the doctors... until Isaac's current doctor put the pieces together. Isaac is now nine. He will be ten in a month. He's had the diagnosis for a year, but I don't know what to do with it.
So, that's why I'm blogging about it.
While I blog, I will research groups and share what I learn. Maybe it will help. Every child with an ASD diagnosis is a little different, I understand, and maybe as I learn, I can help someone else piece together their puzzle. Or, maybe, I can just understand better how to advocate for my own son. My sweet, loving, adorable, scared, quirky little boy.
As a parent with more than one, you learn that your love and dedication to each is different. Not to say more or less, just different. For example, I have higher expectations from my teenage adult daughter. She gets frustrated, wondering why I don't pack her a lunch... really? And then there's baby girl, who I do baby a bit, but totally see as capable so I encourage her to test her limits. Finally there is my son. And frankly, he is my Achilles heel.
What that means is, I know and understand my daughters' strengths and weaknesses. I know where I need to push them and where I need to step in and assist. But with Isaac, I'm at a loss. Sure, it's partly because he's male. But I have brothers, I understand boys. I always wanted a son that I could play boy stuff with and unleash my inner tom-boy. And with Isaac, I do get to do that. He likes cars. He likes Iron Man, Transformers, Star Trek, Hot Wheels, Pirates ... really, the list doesn't end. But, he also has some quirks that set him apart from his peers. The first being that he doesn't really understand how to be a friend. He understands it a little bit. Friends play. Sometimes friends will play what he wants; Luke Skywalker. Sometimes they begin their own game while he continues his theme parallel to their new theme. Mostly the "they" is just one boy, Isaac's one friend, my best friend's son Alec. Alec is gifted. He understands Isaac, but he is a social genius along with other genius qualities. Frankly, he plays with Isaac the way he understands Isaac needs him to. And he enjoys it, until he transitions.
Friday, when we pulled into our driveway, the new boy next door came over and stood by Isaac's door. He waited for him to come out, quietly, to surprise him. He wanted Isaac to play. Isaac finally noticed him and scowled. My daughter began talking to the boy while Isaac walked over to me and asked, "What does he want?" "He wants to play son, say 'Hi' to him." I explained. Isaac yelled over to him, "Hi, I, uh gotta go." Dustin was no longer paying attention to Isaac and Isaac didn't try to see if Dustin was listening. He went inside. That's just an example of how he interacts with most kids.
Isaac was diagnosed, after many years and many frustrations, with PDD-NOS. It is an Autism Spectrum Disorder that stands for Pervasive Developmental Delay, Not Otherwise Specified. Isaac is just a little too social for "regular" Autism. He also had a language delay, which automatically disqualifies him for Aspergers. Otherwise, Aspergers fits nicely. He went years without a diagnosis. Until he finally was diagnosed with ADHD. And then ODD. And then Anxiety. Oh, and recognized for having sensitivity issues... to sound, to food and clothing textures--and a nod has been given to his obsessive tendencies. Finally, in 2008, the DSM changed the criteria for Autism Spectrum Disorders and Isaac qualified under PDD-NOS.
All along I've understood that Isaac isn't quite Autistic in the sense of true Autism. After all, he is affectionate. He can hold conversations. He can play act, to a degree. Therefore, I've felt it not appropriate to reach out to the ASD community. Parents of children with Autism and Aspergers have children that may or may not function as adults some day. I've always felt Isaac will (while in the back of my head I'm pretty sure he's never moving out). Isaac spends most of his time in a regular classroom. He has an IEP that allows him to go to a quiet area if he becomes over stimulated. (This doesn't always work. The principal has had to be called only to be cussed at, stomped on and bitten, multiple times.)
And because the medical community has been unsure about Isaac's issues, so have I. And the school had to battle with me and me with them and us with the doctors... until Isaac's current doctor put the pieces together. Isaac is now nine. He will be ten in a month. He's had the diagnosis for a year, but I don't know what to do with it.
So, that's why I'm blogging about it.
While I blog, I will research groups and share what I learn. Maybe it will help. Every child with an ASD diagnosis is a little different, I understand, and maybe as I learn, I can help someone else piece together their puzzle. Or, maybe, I can just understand better how to advocate for my own son. My sweet, loving, adorable, scared, quirky little boy.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Motherhood, a Murky Path
The one thing I know for sure is that I love my children. Each one of them. Absolutely. I want them to be understood for who they are. I want them to like themselves. I want them to marshal forth in the world without hesitation (yet remembering to say "excuse me, pardon me"). And yet... I cringe when my 18 year-old daughter doesn't wear make-up.
Look, I know, I'm a hypocrite. She should be able to go without make-up and not feel naked, like I do. She should feel self confident about the person she is, not the package her human body holds. She should. And she DOES. But I don't understand it.
It might be a little bit that my biases are at work here. After all she has my small green eyes frame with blonde eyelashes...and they are pretty on her. She has a beautifully chiseled face structure complete with dimples. She has an amazing figure--definitely not from me. But many days she dresses in sloppy sweats and wears no make up and greets the world with a scowl.
Just how does the world perceive her I wonder. Today in particular I wrestled with it. To the point I finally blurted, "You look homeless when you don't wear make-up." I actually got a surprised look from her. Her expression quickly became irritated and then inquisitive as she slowly asked, "You think I look homeless?" "Yes, I know it's wrong, I know I should applaud your confidence for not following the media and having to wear make up, like I feel like I do--but you're also dressed like a slob."
"Fine. I'll put make-up on." And she did. But this is not a victory. It's a twisted, thorny path. She's still confident without make up, I think. But it could seep in and plague her... and if it doesn't, it's certainly a weapon against me. After all it's my JOB to support her, uplift her and celebrate her, right?
And possibly help her understand that whether we like it or not, humans are mammals that group together. They classify each other constantly, consciously and unconsciously; categorizing mercilessly at times--even the highly evolved thinkers. So, maybe, if you're going to dress sloppily... you could add a little mascara??
Look, I know, I'm a hypocrite. She should be able to go without make-up and not feel naked, like I do. She should feel self confident about the person she is, not the package her human body holds. She should. And she DOES. But I don't understand it.
It might be a little bit that my biases are at work here. After all she has my small green eyes frame with blonde eyelashes...and they are pretty on her. She has a beautifully chiseled face structure complete with dimples. She has an amazing figure--definitely not from me. But many days she dresses in sloppy sweats and wears no make up and greets the world with a scowl.
Just how does the world perceive her I wonder. Today in particular I wrestled with it. To the point I finally blurted, "You look homeless when you don't wear make-up." I actually got a surprised look from her. Her expression quickly became irritated and then inquisitive as she slowly asked, "You think I look homeless?" "Yes, I know it's wrong, I know I should applaud your confidence for not following the media and having to wear make up, like I feel like I do--but you're also dressed like a slob."
"Fine. I'll put make-up on." And she did. But this is not a victory. It's a twisted, thorny path. She's still confident without make up, I think. But it could seep in and plague her... and if it doesn't, it's certainly a weapon against me. After all it's my JOB to support her, uplift her and celebrate her, right?
And possibly help her understand that whether we like it or not, humans are mammals that group together. They classify each other constantly, consciously and unconsciously; categorizing mercilessly at times--even the highly evolved thinkers. So, maybe, if you're going to dress sloppily... you could add a little mascara??
Friday, October 5, 2007
A Right to Survive
Perhaps I titled this "Painted Women: Need Rights Too"? Maybe you would read, maybe you would not. Let me explain. Recently a small group of women from Taiwan have stepped forward to ask Japan to take responsibility for forcing them to become sex slaves a half century ago. See http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4342797.stm
Think about it. Think about how decisions we make today as a society affect the way people are a half century from today.
Think about it and realize that we are not static beings. We are real. To go on much more will incite a lot of critisim and I don't mean to do that when the subject is so serious.
I just want to make a small statement. That is simply: Let us learn from history.
And do not think I am trying to find some moral dilemma that exactly matches forcing women to become sex slaves during War. I realize that we aren't "there" in American society today. While we do have a SERIOUS human trafficking problem on Earth, it is still not the point I want to make. Rather, I just want to simply state that decisions we make today are far reaching and in 50 years there will be those who are still gravely affected.
So all I am suggesting is that as a society we arm ourselves with information, sidle that up to our experiences and make intelligent decisions. Too often we are blasted with meaningless information...(Britney) and if we don't seek relevant news it doesn't make its way into our lives.
Think, think, think about it.
Think about it. Think about how decisions we make today as a society affect the way people are a half century from today.
Think about it and realize that we are not static beings. We are real. To go on much more will incite a lot of critisim and I don't mean to do that when the subject is so serious.
I just want to make a small statement. That is simply: Let us learn from history.
And do not think I am trying to find some moral dilemma that exactly matches forcing women to become sex slaves during War. I realize that we aren't "there" in American society today. While we do have a SERIOUS human trafficking problem on Earth, it is still not the point I want to make. Rather, I just want to simply state that decisions we make today are far reaching and in 50 years there will be those who are still gravely affected.
So all I am suggesting is that as a society we arm ourselves with information, sidle that up to our experiences and make intelligent decisions. Too often we are blasted with meaningless information...(Britney) and if we don't seek relevant news it doesn't make its way into our lives.
Think, think, think about it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)