Jogs and Dogs

That moment that you realize that workouts, even as simple as a half-mile walk, are going to leave you in tears until your kids are in school.

Yesterday I did pretty good. I didn't get a work out or walk in. I should have done it first thing, but didn't. I don't know why. I folded all the laundry then ran several errands, and then, before I knew it, school was out and it was crazy time.

Right?!

I had eggs and one piece of toast for breakfast, a Core for lunch, and a little pasta for dinner - about a cup - with homemade sauce with green beans and spinach in it. Fell off a bit when I went crazy on some banana pudding with bananas and Nilla wafers. It was really, really good. Hey, I'm not trying to lose 30 pounds in a month.

I'm shooting for a realistic healthy. A healthy that includes me being active, eating right 9 times out of 10, and occasionally eating popcorn and nachos at the high school football game. Oh, yeah, I did that, too.

Then, I relaxed and enjoyed the rest of my evening.

True story.

Today is a new day, and I woke up determined for it to be better.

So, I went on a walk.

I mapped a half-mile block. "Perfect," I told myself. "I can just walk that block route four times and get in two miles, and if I have to cut it short, or if the kids get fussy, I'll still be close to home. Simple!"
  
I put the baby in the stroller, the dogs on the leashes, hooked Jake (my little Lab mix rescue) to the stroller and let my boy walk Marve (our new lil Corgi pup). Mistakes. All of it. 

I jogged much of the first half-mile, mostly because my dog pulled me. That was good, and I honestly appreciated his not-so-gentle prodding.

But baby started screaming halfway through, and two dogs on leashes, with a stroller, was just stupid.

"Okay, you got this," I said to myself. So I dropped Jake off in our backyard, and was going to hit the trail again.

Psyche. My boy threw a fit because he didn't want to sit in the stroller. He refused to move.

I lost my cool, in my neighbor's driveway.

I yelled "THIS IS WHY I'M FAT! I can't go on a walk for FIVE MINUTES! Can you PLEASE just GET IN THE STROLLER so I can WALK FOR ONE BLOCK!?

You have THREE SECONDS. ONE. TWO."

He started walking, and got in the stroller. That's what I call a win-fail.

The kids and Marve were perfect for the next 3/4 mile walk. (I extended it because they were being so good.)

Until the strays showed up.

We were antagonized by a black Husky, and a huge brown Pit. 

I'm not a Pit hater. I used to have a mix before someone stole him.

But when they're following me and my kids, and my puppy... momma bear came out.

I'm pretty sure I looked like this.

A nice man tried to help me around them by spraying them with his water hose, which gave us a chance to get ahead, but they caught  up.

They weren't threatening or anything... they were just dogs I don't know. And, though I think people should not hate Pit Bulls... I also don't trust a stray I don't know. And I was ready to fight.

I kept having to stop and get them away, which I'm sure served as quite a hilarious spectacle for anyone watching me.

Imagine a chubby girl in workout pants, with two kids in a stroller, a Corgi on a leash. I'm standing in the middle of the street yelling "NO. GO." Pointing my finger, shooing with my arm, kicking my feet at them (not kicking them, just shooing them), then walking back to the stroller, walking quickly without running so they don't start chasing me, talking out loud like those stupid dogs could hear me, "I don't know you. You can't just come up on us. I'm going to kick you in the face if you mess with my kids or my dog, so just go away." Yeah, classy. I know.

I get home, put Marve in the back, and tell Aidan to go inside with Linnie (my A#2). The dogs are still creepin' my 'hood, so I call them over and attempt to check tags so I can at least get them home.

They won't let me.


Aidan comes outside.


I send him into the garage.


Adeline is screaming bloody murder, like she likes to do when she's upset, inside the house.


Try to check tags again. Fail. Shoo dogs away.


Get Aidan and try to go inside the house.

.

Linnie is on the other side of the LOCKED door, screaming and trying to get out.


I try to calm her and get her to unlock the door. Fail.


Prayer. More like a scream, but still. "LORD. GET US IN!"


Check back door. Open. THANK GOD!


So, all in all, I did break a sweat today. I walked 1.26 miles. THAT didn't break the sweat, however. The getting home and being locked out and messing with strays did. Awesome. 

I called Geoff, crying. I told him that what I need to do, what I want to do, and what I CAN do, are all completely different things. He told me to just do what I can, a little every day. Then, he told me to see if I can find a weight bench on Craigslist, because I've been trying to convince him for a couple months that I will use it. He's trying to be encouraging, and I'm so grateful that he lets me cry and vent without thinking I'm a dramatic loser... or at least without saying it out loud.


Looks like eating right is going to be the key, because it is the ONLY thing I can control. And I have trouble even controlling that.

Going to be a long road for this chubby girl. A long, screaming, crying, stray-shooing, kid-coaxing, losing it in neighbors' driveway kind of road. But I'm going to keep walking it. Even if it means have to stop every thirty seconds.

Yes.

Peace,
J