Walking on the Edge

I scan the surface of the grey-blue face, seeking the longest most challenging path to the top. My first grip doesn’t hold as I attempt to heft myself up with one foot jammed into a crevasse. Running my fingers along the ridges of the rock, I hope to find a lip that will provide more leverage for my next attempt.

Pulling and pushing at once, I lift off the ground, pressing my cheek against the smooth, cool stone. Ever scanning for my next hand hold, I know I cannot remain in one position too long. Already I feel my left toe slipping, loosing its grasp. My mind focuses, exploring the possibilities, thrill surging my pulse.

Moving on without hesitation, maintaining three points of contact, I quickly scale the 15 feet to the first landing. Balancing on one foot and then the other, I feel my breath catch with excitement as I teeter on the edge and then move on to the next and highest ledge.

Looking out over the pool that awaits, fear seeps in. Excitement, rushes through my veins, reflexively turning up the corners of my mouth. To calm myself, I chatter on to onlookers, to myself. What do I fear most? The distance, the impact? No... the cold, definitely the cold.

In mid-sentence, I step off the edge, surprising the witnesses... myself. I hear a scream of joy, of fear, of ecstasy, echoing off the cliff, my scream. As I plummet into the icy water, my knees pull up into a ball, my arms pull down to slow my descent. Enveloped by the clear emerald waters, the suns rays pierce the surface, illuminating the four feet of water above my head. It is like gazing up through a massive green marble.

A succession of resolute and furious kicks send me bursting through the river’s surface. My lungs gasp, not so much for air but in reaction to the crushing cold. Half way to the bank my chest seizes to the chill, I can not breath. My too-often-taken-for-granted arms and legs do not fail, but carry me to the bank. With unexpected effort, I crawl from the water. Falling upon the beach in exhaustion, I wrap myself in the warmth of the sand, struggling for breath, laughing for joy, beaming from ear to ear, gratefully knowing I am alive.

Behind the Lens - Part 2

So about that day, the day I took one of my most treasured pictures of my chicklets... What doesn’t show in their angelic faces? What really happened? (If you are thoroughly lost with this post, you should read Behind the Lens - Part 1.)

Obviously I was tired and out of sorts that day, but I needed to get the pictures taken... so I could have them developed and ready to go on to our Christmas cards... and I was running out of time.  I had an entire roll of black & white film and one color roll as well. Yes, it was before I owned a digital camera, which might have saved me... and my family...

We started in our back yard in their coordinating outfits.... a few up against the tree, a few sitting here, a few more over there on the pile of leaves... On and on it went, and now guess what, it’s time for the color shots. Lets do all the poses over again just to make sure we get a good one.  My ever-patient hubby was helping herd our three youngins around, encouraging them with the guise that we were almost finished.

A good amount of the time, I was barking orders... open your eyes, don’t smile so big, hold still, look at the camera... JUST GREAT, now I have to take another one... On and on it went some more. My poor kiddos were getting so sick of it and I was escalating. Louder, more impatient, angrier, loosing control...

With less than ten frames left on the last roll, I suggested we move to the front yard. ‘Suggested’ that’s a nice way of putting it. Actually, it was more of a demand that they didn’t dare refuse. “If you would just hurry up, it wouldn’t take so d---- long and we could be done with this sh--!”  I couldn't just take a few of my husband or the house or a tree.... no, no, no... every last stinking picture had to be of my children.  It wasn’t developing into pretty situation... not pretty at all.

The Sweet Smell of Sweat

"Mommy after you exercise, you smell like a boy."

Don't you just love my son's honesty. Ok, ok, I got it, time to hit the shower. Some days I have to take two... depending on when I get my workout in and when I have clients.  I work part-time as a personal trainer and I though I want to appear athletic, I don‘t want to prove the point by reeking of locker room.

Body odor aside, for me physical fitness has become a vital part of my life.  I truly do feel better when I exercise.... inside and out. I started kicking my workouts into higher gear about two years ago, which happened to coincide with discovering my ADD. In addition to the obvious benefits like better health, weight loss, increased fitness, gains in strength, increased balance, stronger bones, more flexibility...for ME, working out has become a form of meditation, release, empowerment. I have been amazed at the things I can do now that I never thought possible.

And when I skip a few days, I feel less energetic, I don’t sleep as well... which in turn leads to a whole other set of issues... I regress to a cranky slug.

Recently, I read this study (done at Duke University) where they found that individuals suffering from depression experienced the SAME benefits from exercise as those taking antidepressants. And the effects could be sustained with ongoing and regular workouts.  Here’s the real kicker: Participants doing ‘exercise only’ where MUCH less likely to have their depression return... less than the patients receiving drug therapy, and those taking drugs + doing exercise.

Guess what exercise this study used?  WALKING....yep that’s it.  Walking 30 minutes a day.  Nothing strenuous or expensive. Exercise can help you can lose your blues and your love handles too...

Article featured in the January 30, 2010 Weight Management and Fitness Forum 58th Edition hosted at Weight Master

Behind the Lens - Part I

This much loved picture of my children sits in my living room.  I took it myself in our backyard over four years ago in late November.  Recently, I was reminded of the day I took this photo, because I was posting it to my Facebook page.  The caption I wrote under it went something like this:  There is a story behind this picture, maybe I will tell it someday...

For the last few days, I have reflected on memories that surround this photograph, memories that weigh on my mind.  What you see in a snapshot can sometimes be deceiving.  The cute little faces with their cherub cheeks and sweet smiles.  Such innocence...  It’s amazing that I was able to get this picture at all, considering the real mood and events that went along with it.

First I need to go back few weeks before it was taken.  I had to take my son to a routine doctor’s appointment and my daughter came along. Previous experience taught me to be prepared... a big bag of snacks, colors, paper, books... anything to keep my daughter engaged so that I could actually converse with the doctor.

That day was no different than prior visits.... taxing at best....  After Max was weighed, my daughter headed for the scale and began bouncing up and down on it....once in the examination room, she could not be deterred from standing on the swiveling physician’s stool.... then she moved on to opening each drawer and cabinet.  Finally (ignoring the clearly posted prohibition) I blew up a latex glove for her amusement.