The morning started off with me ham-handedly dropping two ibuprofen gel caps on the floor, thinking I’d only dropped one and quickly snatching it up, but not being able to stop Egon before he ate the second, unnoticed capsule. Twelve hours later and he seems fine, so I’m not worried. Then, on the way home from the grocery store just an hour ago, I accidentally stepped on (or almost stepped on?) Oliver, who then hit his head on the botom of the heavy bag of food (wine bottles! Pints of ice cream!) while trying to get away from my big, clumsy feet. Sorry, dogs!

They seem generally unfazed, however, and have forgiven and forgotten. As dogs do. Which is why we love them.

In other news, I have been on total rest this week, trying to let my strained/inflamed hip flexors heal so I can get back to working out. I’ve had problems with this injury off and on for quite a while now, so I’m also thinking about seeing a physical therapist, but for now I just need it to heal. I severely cut back on running throughout January (fifteen miles total the entire month!), trying to stick to things I thought would be easier on the hip. One RPM/spinning class and one circuit class (surprise, lots of kickboxing intervals!) were attempted, and each one left my hip also feeling worse for the wear. By the end of the month, even yoga and weight lifting were both too taxing on the hip, so I put myself on the DL for seven days.

It has not been fun. For one reason, I put on a few holiday pounds and am feeling a bit tubby. I am, objectively speaking, not tubby. Even at my current weight I am still at a BMI of about 21.x, for whatever that’s worth, but I was also already 5 lbs up from my normal weight before the holidays, so there’s that, too. So being without recourse to exercise is unpleasant and frustrating right now.

For another reason, it has also been my Special Ladies Time for Ladies this week, which makes everything that is already hard even harder, and everyone who is already feeling tubby feel even tubbier. These “emotions” you normal people experience on a regular basis? They are difficult. For reference, imagine me sobbing at a Budweiser commercial about hockey. BUDWEISER. HOCKEY. TEARS. Sweet Christ on a cracker. (Go watch that ad, though. Seriously.)

Most of all, though, exercise — significant exercise — is my best mental health regimen. It helps me fight off anxiety and depression and makes me feel positive and confident like few other things can. To be without access to that, well. I have been a treat this week, let me tell you.

Anyway, things are not all bad! I plan to return to the gym next week for some light workouts (yoga, weights, swimming with a pull buoy) and see how it goes. Mid month I plan to get fitted for new running shoes. It’s that time anyway, and it couldn’t really hurt anything (one hopes). Maybe I can try a few miles then and hopefully make a careful return to the roads.

Currently I am sitting on the couch with a glass of communist wine, three snuggly dogs, and my laptop. Beside me, my gentleman friend is playing Fallout: New Vegas. I have no interest in video games, but this one has a charming soundtrack and fun, creepy creatures and settings, making it almost entertaining to have on in the background. The rain is pouring right now just outside the open patio door and things are generally cozy.

I hope you are all having a pleasant weekend of it!

I was never any good at bowling, though: I never came close to breaking 100 points and once I even had an all-time low score of 19. I tried, but I just never quite got it. Since then, I have just never gone, even despite renewed the allure The Big Lebowski had given to the sport since the late 1990s. Bowling became one of those things that I just don’t do, like downhill skiing, eating popcorn, wearing pleated pants, or voting Republican.

After my twenty-year hiatus, I was a little nervous yesterday, wondering if I would even be able to get the ball going in the right direction. Things didn’t get off to a great start when I rolled two gutterballs in the first frame. Yup, I’m no good at bowling.

We had a group of eight people, so we were using two lanes, one of which was set up with bumpers — you know, the little rails they put up in the gutters for when little kids are bowling, so they never get a gutterball and can actually knock some pins down? Yeah. I was thinking I probably needed to be in the bumper lane, but of course I wound up in the “real” lane. So not fair! I mean, this is not ‘Nam; this is bowling. There are rules. I was grousing and grumbling about the injustice of it all when I went up to roll for my second frame and, lo and behold, I rolled a strike. Say what now?!

It was kind of like that all night: ups and downs, strikes and guuters. Just like The Dude says. I finished the first game in last place in our lane (and only beat one person playing in the bumper lane). The next game I came in third in our lane, and in the third game we swapped lanes so our group of four had bumpers and the others didn’t, and I still came in third. You know what, though? It was really, really fun. I managed to roll a few strikes throughout the night, actually, and until I started to get tired I was improving bit by bit.

I think the pitchers of beer certainly helped matters, as did being there with a big group of friends who were cheering each other on and generally keeping spirits high. I surprised myself by enjoying it as much as I did — I’m even thinking I would like to go back every now and then so I can get better at it. I’d like to win a game once! Maybe some day.

I think when I was younger I used to get hung up on competition and the (percieved) need to excel at things. If I wasn’t good at something with minimal effort, why do it? Why bear the indignity of medicority? I’d like to think I am getting over that limiting way of thinking as I get older — after all, I am not especially “good at” running or triathlon except insofar as I enjoy those sports and love to participate in them. I don’t have to be winning my age group to make a race fun (though I’d like to, one day), and I don’t even have to be racing to make a run, ride, or swim worth my while. The experience of the moment is fulfilling in itself, as is the sense of accomplishment gained from simply trying to learn new things.

As life goes on, I’ve realized that what I had always thought of a fixed aversions or dislikes (Brussels sprouts, games, bowling) may not be so fixed after all. I love me some roasted Brussels sprouts these days, for example. Perhaps there will be a time in the future when I will give downhill skiing another try, or discover a love of popcorn. I’m sure pleated pants will come back in style some day soon, if they haven’t already. As for voting Republican, though? Well, probably not.

Let me just tell you what a giant pain in the ass this whole thing was. After finally removing the hoop (which was just a single piece of wire that had to be straightened out a bit to be removed), I tried for some time to insert the screw-shaped stud I’d bought to replace it.

As you can see in the photo, the screw is both an awkward (but clever) design, and a slightly thicker gauge than the hoop was. It was annoying and painful to put it in, but I figured once I’d gotten it there I was good to go.

Cut to two days later, when I woke up with my nose even more sore than it had already been and obviously inflamed and disgusting. Huh. I took the stud out, but could not get the hoop to go back (it was too bent up at this point and messing around with it was painful). I figured it was time to face facts: Just like Roger Murtaugh, I am too old for this shit. I would have to give it up.

But then, I was struck with inspiration: I would go to the mall. There is a Hot Topic in the mall. A Hot Topic that sells nose jewelry. Could I face the horrors of Hot Topic? Was the Hot Topic even still in business? I could and it was.

I walked right in, me, thirty-four years old, and tried to avoid having to talk to the teenaged boy working the counter. I guess the young people of Auburn are perhaps not the target market for exaggerated fishnet tights, manga lunchboxes, and Evanescence tee-shirts, because I was the only customer in the place. Of course, the teenaged boy (who, I feel like I should mention, had several facial piercings of his own, as is appropriate for a teenager) came over and had to help me choose a nose stud from the glass case, amiably chatting me up the entire time. He apparently could not see how mortified I was to be there: me! thirty-four years old! in a Hot Topic! Let’s just say I got out of there as fast as possible, before he could ask me if I was buying the nose jewelry for my kid or something.

There was a happy ending, though: after much washing and sterlizing and such, I managed to put in the smaller-gauge, L-shaped stud. It was approximately a thousand times easier to use than the screw-shaped stud I’d tried before, and because it was as skinny as my old hoop, it didn’t aggravate or stretch my nose at all.

.

Lessons learned: 1) check the gauge of any new body-peircing jewelry you buy; 2) Yes, Hot Topic is still in business, and 3) apparently I have determined that thirty-four is still not too old for this shit, at least for now.

(I’m sure you’ve heard stories like this before or went through something similar yourself. This is America, after all. I am neither interesting nor unique in my past financial problems, but I’m going to write all about it regardless of just how very unremarkable I am. I think it might be helpful for anyone else who is going through the same thing and I know it will be helpful for me.)

I had the best of intentions for my shiny new MasterCard and I certainly did not plan to use it for any frivolous spending. I only charged what I could afford to pay off each month. The first purchase I made that wasn’t immediately paid off was a set of tires for my superfly 1987 Chevy Calvalier. A legitimate expense, I am sure you will agree. (And one sweet, sweet ride, which is beside the point.)

Over the years, of course, my attitute toward the card and toward my spending relaxed: I was a scholarship student working part time jobs around town for spending money, most of which went for things like books, art supplies, gas, and basic expenses. I was 100% financially independent from my parents, and proud of it. This meant, though, that I didn’t really ever have cash for frivolous things like shopping, clothes, or restaurant meals, and as I got more comfortable with charging those things, the bank continued to increase my credit limit to accomodate my habits.

You can guess, of course, that trouble ensued. I used the card a lot when I lived in Germany junior year. I received a modest stipend from my German university to help with living expenses, but my student Visa didn’t allow me to work there, so I put a lot of things on the credit card. When I graduated college and moved to Oregon for my PhD, there was a 6-week period where I hadn’t yet started my teaching fellowship and couldn’t find a job around town, so ALL my living expenses went on the credit card. Ouch.

Throughout graduate school, I wound up opening up other, smaller credit cards here and there and debt just kept mounting. The $800 monthly paycheck from my fellowship was not cutting it, and the spotty part-time summer employment, even with the help of student loans, still wasn’t enough. Unfortunately, I was essentially unwilling to live the frugal, ascetic lifestyle I would have needed to embrace in order to avoid taking on any more debt. And really, who cared, right? As long as I could afford the minimum payments, and could keep charging things, why worry?

(Ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Weep.)

Soon enough, though, I could not afford the minimum payment anymore and the card was totally maxed out. Um, oops. At that point I had to figure out some kind of plan of action. Or, maybe instead of figuring out some kind of plan of action, I could, like, maybe just ignore the situation instead? Yeah. Let’s try that. Ignoring the problem (and the letters, and the phone calls) would be just fine.

At some point, things came to a head. I had to actually talk to the bank, on the telephone, like a real grown up lady. I had to look at the actual numbers, instead of squinting at the bills through my nearly shut eyelashes. It was terrifying. There was no way I could see to come correct with this account. The minimum payment alone was more than my rent, both of which were more than half my paycheck. Rent + minimum payment > paycheck. This = problem. Even I, financially challenged as I was, could figure that out.

But when I spoke to the bank, they actually helped me. I in no way expected this, but they made it work. The account was closed and I started a five-year, fixed payment plan, after which the entire balance would be paid off. The interest rate during this period was a mere 3.9%.

I still felt like I’d never get it paid off — the payment amount they set for me was not as cripplingly high as the old minimum had been, but it was still a pretty painful number to think of. Nonetheless, I knew I just had to hold on for five years and I’d be done with it. During that time, I finally figured out how to limit and budget and make my life work with the money I had coming in. It helped that during this time I got a real, post-grad-school job.

Over the past two years, I’ve also been working on paying off another credit card from the grad school years — the second one had a balance only 1/4 as high when I closed it and the payment was only 1/2 what the bigger one was. Coincidentally, I made the final payment to that bank in late December. Between these two credit cards and my student loans, I’d been paying about $850 a month toward debt, all of which was incurred while in college and graduate school. Ouch. As of now, though, I am down to only two things in the red-ink column: student loans (which I’ll be paying for the next 9 years), and dog surgery bills. It feels really good. Damn that dog surgery bill, though! I should have nothing on the books right now except my student loans. But I hope to have them paid off completely by the end of 2012.

What’s interesting to me is that the worst of the debt was incurred and mismanaged during the very same years that my weight balloned up from my healthy size to the fattest I’ve ever been. And then during the same years I spent paying off the debt, I got myself back on track with health, nutrition, and fitness, and I lost 120 pounds.

(Hmm, I’ve shared the amount of weight I lost — should I share the amount of debt I paid off? I’m not sure I feel as comfortable with that number being public. Let’s just say… I could have bought myself a fully loaded 2012 Toyota Prius for that amount.)

I have no doubt that these two things, weight and debt, are connected; after all, they are also two of America’s most-noted problems. We are all overweight and in over our heads with debt, too fat and out of shape to climb out of the hole we’ve dug, or so says the news. I won’t wax on about the nation at large, but I can refer to my own case: quite simply, I had a problem with overconsumption. I was not able to limit or to budget, either when it came to calories or to dollars. I was not able to say no — to another beer, to a basket of fries, or to putting the bar tab on my credit card at the end of the night.

As I write this, however, I have a very managable debt situation and I have maintained my weight loss, give or take five pounds, for over 18 months. This is proof that no matter how big a hole you can dig for yourself, there is always the possibility of climbing back out. In both cases, coming face to face with the numbers, no matter how frightening, is a solid first step.

The strong man holds in a living blend strongly marked opposites. The idealists are usually not realistic, and the realists are not usually idealistic. The militant are not generally known to be passive, nor the passive to be militant. Seldom are the humble self-assertive, or the self-assertive humble. But life at its best is a creative synthesis of opposites in fruitful harmony. The philosopher Hegel said that truth is found neither in the thesis nor the antithesis, but in the emergent synthesis which reconciles the two.

***The tough mind is sharp and penetrating, breaking through the crust of legends and myths and sifting the true from the false. The tough-minded individual is astute and discerning. He has a strong austere quality that makes for firmness of purpose and solidness of commitment. Who doubts that this toughness is one of man’s greatest needs? Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.

***There is little hope for us until we become toughminded enough to break loose from the shackles of prejudice, half-truths, and downright ignorance. The shape of the world today does not permit us the luxury of softmindedness. A nation or civilization that continues to produce softminded men purchases its own spiritual death on the installment plan.
But we must not stop with the cultivation of a tough mind. The gospel also demands a tender heart. … What is more tragic than to see a person who has risen to the disciplined heights of toughmindedness but has at the same time sunk to the passionless depths of hardheartedness?
– Strength to Love, 1963