The Fit Of The Land

I have all but forgotten about the Bradley-style list, my own attempts at gratitude and inner quiet, patience, kindness.
I mean, I have been banging on and on about it.
Sadly, I have to admit that I have not been very good with keeping the focus on myself and my thoughts in order to be a better version of myself, to be less rash and more balanced, more patient and indeed kind to my fellow men and fellowmaidens. (And yes, I know Fellowmaiden is a font and not really a term in the English Language used to designate female members of the populace, thank you.)

I seem to have got lazy. Side-tracked, complacent, generally not bovvered.


Shocking! I know! And we're only three weeks into the new year.
What is to become of my intentions which are neither good nor bad?
Clearly they're also neither here nor there.
A disappointing performance so far! But I shall not call this undertaking a failure. Yet. I treat this as a minor glitch. A hiccup. Plus, I blame it on the dark. The lack of Vitamin D makes us all feel worse for wear.
But to be perfectly honest, I do not really see myself pulling me out of this slump.
I need a trailblazer, someone who is willing to go that extra mile and take me along.
Some kind of improvement-buddy, I guess.
Preferably someone that fits into my jacket pocket and just nudges me gently when I threaten to fall back into nasty old patterns and habits. Right, not gonna happen.

Well, up to very recently I was very much opposed to the idea of sports in general and of jogging in particular and jogging in pairs made up a whole new category of hate.
However, I have now changed my tune slightly - maybe it's because every morning when I wake my body feels like it's turned 80 while I was sleeping - I can imagine now that a running partner may be a good idea in order to actually keep to the schedule of alotted training time as opposed to not going at all because of "generally not being bovvered"-ness.
You see, that is my problem right there. I am not bovvered. I get these pangs of guilt and frustration at how I look and I inadvertently reach the conclusion that I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT. However: such insight never stays long. I suffer from Fitness Amnesia.
My enthusiasm and excitement usually fizzle out and I end up not sticking to schedules, diets, plans etc. (I did mention this before: I am consistent at one thing - giving up.)

So I keep thinking perhaps having a person that joins me in the effort might be a good thing.
The ideal jogging buddy would probably be my improvement buddy, too. (Jogging as one rung on the self-improvement ladder, see what I did there.)

Inner Monologue:
Me: I do believe, I need to be my own improvement buddy! I need to be my trailblazer.
Myself: Are you out of your mind?! Do I have to do everything around here?
Me: Think about it. I'd be perfect. I cannot stand the idea of having someone watch me cough up my lungs while trying to move at a pace that is not considered moseying. Much less do I cherish the thought of bouncy, fit Sporty Spice chatting incessantly without ever needing to catch her breath or considering to shut the hell up while I quietly sink to the ground and die from outdoors activity.
Myself: I shall not endorse this kind of thinking. I refuse to be my improvement buddy.
Me: Well, if it is not myself then I do believe we WILL have to get in the chatty road runner. It's one or the other.
Myself: (shaking her Magic Eight Ball): Concentrate and try again!
Me: I. Do. Believe. I. Need. To. Be. My. Own. Improvement. Buddy.
Myself: How's that gonna work?!
Me: Easy! It's gonna be me. But new and improved. And I shall get myself together and start over with this home-improvement.
Myself: It's called SELF-improvement, you div.

I know I have been talking about it a bit, the growing and the paying-attention and the being-grateful and what have you.
But for some reason I seem to suffer from all sorts of amnesia, i.e. I keep forgetting my plans, my resolutions, intentions, my little promises to myself and the universe - call them whatever you want - fact remains, I get so bloody caught up in ... well, stuff (which does not even bear writing about because it's so silly) that it all seems a giant waste of time.
So while I have a clear moment I shall propose this to the void (btw. the void has heard all of this before but kindly and patiently plays along - every single time - the void is officially kewl):
I need to make the conscious decision to change. It cannot be half-hearted or half-arsed, as it were.
And yes, my favourite: no one's gonna do it FOR me.
Oh, and the perfect time would be right now. (Always is for some reason.)
See! Easy! (Did I hear a chuckle just now?!)

But seriously, if I am not the one who looks out for ME, who gently reminds me of what I want to be in this here universe, who patiently puts me back on track then who in hell is going to do the job?!
I guess, I do have to do everything myself 'round here.

Is it not strange how often we say "Well, if I do it myself at least I know it is done properly" and how rarely we apply that to ourselves and our own personal growth?


On this note: be patient and gentle and kind - not least to yourselves!


P.S.
I could NEVER pay anyone enough to become my jogging buddy.

Sometimes Bob Hoskins Is Wrong

I've just had a phone call. From a person I did not want to speak to. Not tonight. Not ever. I would have been fine to simply let them slip out of my life. I never wanted to hear from them again.
I was fine until now.

It was a bit cringe-worthy, that phone call. You are being badgered with questions. And you REALLY do not want to share anything about your life but it would be considered rude to simply ignore their questions. So I lied a little - alright, not just a little - while all the time wondering why in the hell would they want to talk or even - as they suggested - see me?! What kind of random wish is that?! I have not seen them in ages. And frankly there is no point in starting now. What could I possibly have to say to them and vice versa that the other would want to hear? Nothing at all.

That's precisely the phone call you DO NOT want to get on a Sunday evening. Trust me!
It somehow reminds you of all the things that feel a bit awkward in your life, the people you left hanging, the things/stories/business you left unfinished.
And THAT should not be pondered when Sunday is on its way out. When Sunday is kind of picking up its coat getting ready to go and catch a ride. Phone calls like the one I just had are like those people at a party who keep quiet all evening and then drop an "innocent" comment that has you wrecking your brain where in God's name THAT came from. (Plus it does not help when you feel a little short-tempered, a little snappy.) Odious creatures! Nothing to say all night and then POW! Vicious! Deadly! Like a flippin' stun gun. DO NOT EVER bring such things to a party. In the end someone always gets hurt.

But I digress.
No, Sunday evenings should be spent either on t'couch with a good book, a nice DvD, a handsome lover, not necessarily in that order but you get the idea.
Sunday evenings should not, however, be spent jogging (or any other kind of work-out), fighting with friends and/or loved ones, having weird phone conversations with, well strangers, basically. The sort who thinks they know you. Sunday evenings should be synonymous with Peace & Quiet.

Have now turned ringer off on phone. Big improvement.



P.S.
I was fine until now.
Dramatic much?