Embracing my Inner Treetrunk

25 09 2012


The other title for this post was far more mundane and about goals. By the time I shot the photo of what was around me, I forgot the boring title! Yeah!

About a week ago, I went back to the San Francisco Bay Area where I was raised. I don’t go back all that often, but when I do, I sometimes come back with a little more perspective. This trip was so fast and had so much going on, it is anyone’s guess what I came back with!

I looked around a lot. Part of my studying/analyzing media is because of the way I was affected (effected? Never get those words right). I have never been a “skinny girl” naturally. The hardest part of being my build is that I really don’t have the build of my folks or sibling, nor do I have the body type so massively depicted as “desirable” in the mass mediated reality.

I am The Family Viking. I am a mosh pit of genetic material, but definately reflect the “bigger” side of the gene pool. As I age, I have come to some peace with it, except when I realize the 5’10” 176 pound me isn’t well represented as a “female ideal.” A lesbian friend said it was harder for the straight me because I am “competing” with Barbie.

Well, at least I am healthy.

One of the areas I have to come to grips with are my life long tree-trunk legs. I know that I am not built for endurance, but I keep trying for it. I had to think about why?

The only thing I miss about running was running trails and pounding up hills. I thought that meant I am an endurance kitty. No – that means I have the mental fortitude (when directed) to do anything I put my mind toward.

Today, I was reminded that I probably have more fast twitch over slow twitch muscle percentage and that, although I will always do endurance work, it is about time I started training what I got.

Funny thing is that I do like the push of speed work. I recover fast. I am finally making the commitment to not only to do what I am physically built to do but channel my fortitude into understanding two new sports (that require gear and weather)  and, after Goofy 2013, my longest may be the 1/2 marathon for running and, maybe, 30k for race walking. No, not because I can’t do things, but because I am sick of the injuries I incur swimming upstream.

Walking forward and taking a hard left. Time to rewrite goals.

Asked to start writing again

25 09 2012


Probably not one of my better photos, but backward shooting on a moving train.

I was asked to start writing again. I am not exactly sure why, but I guess it has something to do with my being fairly honest about my process with sport and evolution. To me, they are pretty linked.

This morning finds me still limping badly. Up to this point, I can honestly say I have missed every major training target due to those lingering issues that, if not handled, really put a railroad spike in my motivation.

I do see the positive, even in my crabby outlook. I am finally taking care of those injury issues that I have long ignored or tried to simply power through. The problem with the enduring thing is that I know I have far more potential and I haven’t been near reaching it again. The only way to reach any level, however, is building a firm foundation. In this case, it is chasing the recurring injuries and dealing with the causes once and for all.

Yeah – and that collides with the fact that I am an impatient person with myself.

I will admit that my becoming frustrated with the incredibly slow process and “oh yes, Miss Shepard, it is going to take 3 months minimum to burn/cut/heal the injuries to the bottom of both feet” really hit hard. I found myself camping out, stretching, in front of the telly, reaching for whatever was handy.

Around the Olympics my DVR and cable connections became wonky. I laughed at myself because I had started to have that attitude of “I can’t miss x or y telly program.” It is an attitude I truly don’t understand and here I was, sucked into it! Sure, my programs are usually well crafted mysteries or documentaries – but timewaster is waist-enhancer.

I took the DVR back to Comcast and picked up their regular box. I then noticed just how much I was paying for the thing. As I started to renegotiate the bill for the only service I truly *need* (cable internet), I found it was more expensive if I dumped the telly & phone (yeah – phone … not real landline either)!

I didn’t hook the box up for a couple of weeks. Didn’t miss much, I am sure. Happy to miss the political mudslinging. I relaxed, got on the balcony, and slowly took walks to try to rehab the feet.

The idiot box is back up. I catch the BBC news and use it for music. If I miss a program, who cares? The big thing I noticed was after all these years of explaining and linking media and society, I don’t understand the appeal of the offerings. That is probably a good thing. I can still tag demographics within 5 minutes — odd but useful talent.

As I limp onto campus, I hear people bemoaning some football call, parroting political soundbytes, and being plugged in to their screaming headphones; completely ignoring the beautiful morning.