Tag Archives: new life

Life Lesson Learned: Laundry Edition

So here I am, hanging out on my porch, well in the carport, hanging up my laundry.  See, I’d normally be on the porch, but it’s a touch windy today and the last thing I need is to have the laundry topple over (again!) onto the landlord’s daughters new flower bed.  Not good.  So instead, I’m going to take advantage of the carport’s wind-tunnel nature and put the laundry to hang in there, relying upon the not-quite gale force winds to dry my clothing.  Sure, they don’t get sunshine this way, but I also don’t spend most of my afternoon going out to pick them up off the deck and pick dried leaves and dirt from what were clean clothes.  And yeah, I could tuck them in the little space where E’s motorbike is parked, we get some sunlight there in the afternoons.  But the last time I did that and a big gust of wind came through, I was chasing the laundry down the driveway as the towels acted as sails for the Good Ship Clothing Drive that was careening towards the road.   Not a particularly fun way to spend twenty minutes.

 

So there I was, in the carport, hanging up the clothes when I came to this one shirt of mine in particular.  Now this shirt I’ve had for several years and it has seen it’s fair share of ups and downs.  It’s a gray shirt with an orange collar and orange sleeves and I got it from Old Navy, who knows how long ago.  It’s a comfortable shirt, well worn and well loved.  I use it mainly for around the house now and lazy weekends with nothing to do but relax with my man.  But today, something about this shirt made me stop as I was hanging it up.

 

I’m not sure if it was the voluminous amounts of fabric that were just not agreeing with me or the hangers.  Or if it was the somewhat stubborn seeming insistence that it would quite simply not stay on the hanger at all, thank you kindly.  But once I finally hung it up, I paused in my usual chore doing and looked at it.  Really stopped and looked at it.

 

“This shirt is huge!” I thought to myself, and half said aloud.  I turned it this way and that and then this way again, looking it over.  Now true, it was wet and it had just gone through a bit of a battle with me and the washer and a pair of pants that decided it was a great time to turn into an octopus, so it was slightly stretched out.  But no. Even accounting for that, the shirt was huge. Enormous. And that thought, of course, got me thinking other thoughts.

 

The shirt was a 3XL.  I bought it because it was comfortable to fit in.  It was nice and light, gave me room to breathe, but also room to hide. I never quite filled it all the way out, and I’m very glad for that, but I fit into it comfortably.  It was a nice second skin for me. The shirt allowed me to get service in almost every establishment I went into without really letting on just how fat I was. We were secret companions in an ongoing battle with reality.  And dammit, we were winning, my shirt and I.

 

But now, here and now, on this day, I am hanging up this shirt and it is huge. Giant. I could swallow a small child and not even notice it had eaten.  I remembered thinking the other night when I was wearing it, that it was almost like a nightgown, only a little shorter.  I looked down at the shirt that I was wearing today.  A black t-shirt. Nothing special, nothing amazing. Just one that came from those three packs of t-shirts from the Men’s department at WalMart.  it’s comfortable, not too snug, but also not too loose.  I could do my workout in this shirt if I needed to.  I can also do my dishes and still feel comfortable.  Just to make sure, I turned the shirt sideways slightly and I peeked a look at the tag.

 

XL.

 

Talk about your mind being blown.  It’s hard, sometimes, when you’re so close to everything happening, to really see the progress being made.  But I was standing there, obsessively staring at this old shirt of mine, not quite realizing that I was looking at the progress I had made.  I used to fit into that. Now, I fit into this.

 

I used to hide behind that fabric, now I’m starting to own this fabric. I used to wrap myself in security in that shirt, now I’m becoming more outgoing in this one. I did that. I beat that. I beat that old shirt.  And I’m starting to beat this new shirt as well.

 

I have a size large t-shirt hanging up in my bedroom.  It’s my Nanowrimo shirt that I bought last year.  It was way too small for me then, it’s still slightly too small for me now.  Next year, next year, It will be too big for me.  I have come so far, but I have still further to go.  But for the moment, I’m going to finish my laundry, and then have a cuppa tea.

 

Thank you, Grey and Orange shirt. Thank you.

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Getting Back Up

Hi!

 

Have you missed me?

 

Well life has been a series of busy lately, and while all of it has been fantastic, none of it really lends itself to being ‘blog-worthy’.  Or at least, not in a way that I can think of just yet.  So what has been happening in life down here in kiwiland?  Well, let me tell you.

 

A couple weekends ago two of our really close friends got married.  It was an absolutely fantastic day, the ceremony went off just as was planned and the Bride and Groom had a great time.  I was so very happy to be not only invited but to also be a part in helping them plan and get ready for their day.  Having only known them for a few months, it’s truly amazing just how close we’ve become.  I can’t express enough or in the proper words just how humbled and grateful I am to the pair of them for allowing me to spend time with them and share in their joy on that day.  Love you both R&K!

 

This past weekend, another pair of our friends moved into their new house! And we, of course, helped them move!  Now, I know that does not necessarily sound like a barrel of laughs, and it was some hard work, but it was also absolutely great.  We got to spend time with friends, help them move onto their next big step, and generally just enjoy everybody’s company.  And while helping them move, unpack, and settle into their new place, I had time to look back, reflect, and focus on just how far this life that I’m living now is to the ones that I’ve lived before.  Doing physical labor, but laughing and joking at the same time. Everybody coming together collectively to help out, and then sitting around a table (which is gorgeous!) for a well deserved dinner.  I am struggling to figure out if life gets better than that.   The house is gorgeous, the couple fantastic, and our time spent together equally precious.  Congrats R&E!

 

What else, what else.

 

The job hunt is not so much a hunt as it is shooting arrows wildly into the forest in every direction, only to have them shot back at you with no points and no fletching. Not helpful.  But! perseverance will prevail!  Employment will be gained! Somehow.

 

Now, the biggest new thing happening to me personally is that I’ve committed to a Personal Trainer. Tom is going to be kicking my butt left, right, and sideways twice a week for 45 minutes.  After 7 months at the gym, and a significant amount of body tightening up, It was time to get even more serious.  I’ve got weight I want to, must, lose and it’s not going to come off on it’s own.  And while I’ve stuck with going to the gym at least twice a week for 7 months, I need something more. I need to keep pushing myself even more, harder than before.  I must lose this weight.  The rest of my life depends upon hitting that healthy moment and then keeping going.  And that’s not an exaggeration.

 

Today was my second session with Tom and everything went well.  Really well, actually.  But it was the last ‘exercise’ that got me into a contemplative mood.  Essentially all I had to do was lay down on the ground on my chest and then stand back up again five times, and then lay on my back and get up again five times.  Sounds simple, right? Wrong.  It was definitely not easy.  There was so much involved, just so much energy and movement and muscles.  It was by far the hardest exercise that I did.

 

Just like life.  It’s fairly easy to get knocked down time and time again.  It’s the getting back up that’s the hardest part.  And all of this, the man who is supporting me, the friends that I’ve found and love, and the gym, this is all part of me getting back up off the ground.

 

And this time, I’m going to remain standing. And then, start running.

Flying Time

Goodness Gracious where does it go!

 

Just a quick note from me today to inform you all that I am indeed still alive.

 

E had this last two weeks off, so we’ve been spending some serious quality time together, and that has left me less time for the writing!

 

But alas, the real world has called and he is back at work.  I’m still fighting with getting my immigration stuff sorted.

 

Upnotes!  I signed up to do a 10k walk next month! Because I am a complete and total nutjob.

 

So i’ve decided to start going to the gym more often.  We’re talking like every weekday more often.  To do at least 30 minutes on the treadmill (I still haven’t fallen off! yay!) during the day and then go back at night with E on his gym nights to do weights.

 

Although, note to self, after last night’s first attempt at doing this program, I really need to eat/drink more sugar/carbs if I’m going to do this kind of training.  Last night resulted in a bit of an insulin crash and I had to stop about 1/3 of the way through my weights routine.

 

Bummer.

 

So that’s what’s been going on.  I’ll post up about the Botanical Gardens in a bit, but first, I gotta get to the gym!

The Treads on the Mill Go Round and Round

One time, a long time ago, I had a terrifyingly traumatic experience with a treadmill.  That is to say that I got onto the treadmill and since I had improper posture/walking/gait/whatever and did not pick up my feet while walking, instead I shuffled everywhere, the treadmill and I were very close in a short period of time.

 

Like face to treads close.

 

Suffice it to say that I have not since gotten on a treadmill.  The memory of that incident, the abject terror of repeating it again, only this time with other people around to witness my humiliation. I simply could not do it.  I would look at the treadmill and think that it would be easier to do, that I could do it and it might end up being better for me than the elliptical/crosstrainer.  I could walk for longer and not get quite as tired.  But I could not quite get the memory of that tragic faceplant out of my mind.  And now that I’m at this gym where I like the people around me? And have actually gained some of their respect?  To lose it all in a moment of utter ridiculousness that would be my flying off the back of the treadmill in a glorious  ball of not yet lost fat?  Yeah, not ideal.

 

So I stuck with the elliptical.  Even though I was feeling that it wasn’t quite doing it for me anymore.  For some reason I felt as though I was not achieving my goals anymore by doing just the elliptical.  Granted, the gym has bikes available, and I know that I can do that, but I’ve found that sitting on the exercise bikes usually ends up being ten minutes worth of trying to not feel like I’ve got the worlds biggest wedgie.  And that is not conducive to getting into the ‘zone’ for a good cardio workout. It’s just not.  So the next step, logically would be the treadmill.  But how do I get over my paralyzing fear?

 

This is where E steps in.  He has more ability to encourage and support me than I think even he is aware of.  His faith in me and his strength of support have been huge.  Also, there is no way I would have gotten onto a treadmill if he were not right next to me.  If I’m going to look like a fool, I want my scrawny-legged man right next to me to make me feel better.

 

Huge props also to the guys at the gym, especially Tom.  He has been huge for my confidence, and him telling me that he knows I can do it while not being overly pushy or insistent has been huge.  He makes me want to push myself to the next level just to be able to prove to him that I can.  If those are not great qualities in a personal trainer, then I don’t know what makes a great personal trainer, obviously.

 

Another big thing was something that I picked up somewhere, but I don’t remember where.  It sounds silly at first, but visualizing myself doing pretty much anything has been a huge help.  Whether it’s been making a dinner that I’ve been thinking about lately, or writing a post that’s been on my mind, or conquering a treadmill, I’ve thought about it for at least a few days.  I know, my posts still sometimes come out very disjointed, but those are usually the ones that were spur of the moment.

 

So after a few weeks of thinking myself through the process of getting onto the treadmill and staying on it I finally did it.

 

I climbed onto the treadmill and started off slowly, but i did it. I managed to do not one, but now two workouts on the thing.  I’m still working my way up to doing the ‘preset’ workouts like the ‘glute busters’ and ‘leg trainer’ but i’m just proud that I haven’t quite fallen off of the machine yet and caused a scene of epic non-awesome proportions.

 

A fitter me, here I come!

Race Recap

Wait what?  Did I read that right?

 

yes, you did.  Do not panic, you have not accidentally stumbled onto a blog that you did not expect to be at.  I did a race today!

 

The Sculpt 6k Run/Walk.

 

And not only did I start the race, but I finished it as well!  BOOM!  78 minutes and 2 seconds!   Yay! Personal best! (it comes down to just about 1k in 13 minutes).   Ok, so I’ve read my friend Andrea’s race recaps and now, I think I’m going to try and do an homage to her and her style.  In other words, copycat!

 

Looks! It was the starting line!  I have no idea how many people there were, but I did see some people with numbers in the 4000s, so we’ll go with that. Somewhere in that mass of 4000 estrogen filled bodies I am.  I was near the back.  Because, well, I’m not a runner, and that’s what walkers do! We stay near the back!

 

There I am!  It is fair to say that all of those lovely ladies around me, well I quickly got left behind by them.  Yeup!  Nothing like the feeling of being dropped to the back of the pack oh-so-quickly.  I started questioning myself at that point, very early on in the race.  If I was being left behind so quickly, by so many other women, what in the world was I doing here?  If I could be left behind just like that, even with walking at a fairly fast pace, was I going to be the very last one through the finish line?  Will everybody else have been packed up and waiting for me to show up so that they could leave?  Would I have the trailer car behind me, creeping along after me and picking up the traffic cones?

 

But nevertheless! I put on the Biggest Loser Workout Mix (Latin walking beats!) and I put my head down and walked.  I yelled at that voice in my head and told it to shut up and sit at the back of the bus and I kept going.  Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?  You’re supposed to yell at your inner demons and make them behave, right?

 

Ee waited for me on one of the street corners, just so that he could take some pictures of me ‘en route’.

 

This is me getting completely lapped by a runner.  Completely.  Ee said that the first runners started to show up for their 2nd lap within ten minutes of my leaving the starting line.  I know that I’m nowhere up to that particular speed, and I doubt I ever will be, but still that’s impressive!  At this point, I was still breathing and moving to the Latin Beat!  And Holy Cow.  Looking at this picture just helps me see that I really have lost some weight.  Especially around the top half of my body.  I still have a ways to go, but man, I have actually gotten a bit smaller!  Neat!

 

Ok, so maybe not that much smaller from this angle.  But look at that! There I go! Off towards the 2nd lap!  3k down and only 3k more to go! WOO!

 

So the weather this morning was a bit overcast, and somewhere around the 3.5k mark it started to drizzle.  Actually at that point it was fairly welcome.  I don’t know if my brain told me to do this or if it was something that I had picked up as a suggestion from somebody, but I found a group of ladies that seemed to be 1) used to this kind of thing and 2) keeping a fairly even pace, so I decided to stay near them.  I didn’t turn their trio into a quartet, but I did keep them in my sights and did my best to stay as close to them as I could.  They were my marker.  They moved to avoid a pothole, I moved to avoid the pothole.  I had decided that those ladies and I were getting to the finish line at the same time if I had to run to keep up with them.

 

Luckily, I didn’t have to run!

 

Those Ladies will never know just how much I appreciate them being there.  They were an anchor that helped pull me through the last half of the race.  The other anchor, of course, being Ee.  He stood on street corners to take pictures of me passing by.  And then he would run ahead to stand on another street corner.  He would walk alongside me for a minute, just to give me some encouragement and then race ahead to be waiting for me at the finish line.

What’s that you say? Finish line?

 

Oh yes, That is indeed what that says there.  Finish Line!

 

Whoo!

 

So the ladies in red sprinted a bit to cross the line in 1hour, 18 minutes exactly, and I was two seconds behind them.  that makes my new Personal Best for 6k; 1:18:02.  YES!  I told myself that I would be happy with anything so long as it didn’t go over 1:30:00.  And I didn’t!  I wasn’t even close!  Well ok, I was closer to that time than some others were, but still!  The point is, I beat the goal that I set for myself, I wasn’t the last person through the finish, and I actually did finish!

 

 

Lookit that smile!  That is the look of somebody who has achieved a goal, and doesn’t feel too tired about it!

 

All in all, the race was fairly, dare I say it, easy.  My feet hurt a bit right now, and I have a long way to go before I am overly happy with my body shape and the changes that I want to make, but I set myself a goal and I met, and surpassed, it.  And that is huge!

 

And now, that I am basking in my glory of being accomplished, I really do have to thank some people.  Andrea and Ellen and Kati for being some of the most awesome sources of support in this.  I started to have doubts, but then you ladies picked me back up and put back on the right path.  You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it, that’s how awesome you are.  So thanks for that! To the folks at the end of the race, the ones who stood at the finish line and cheered and applauded for everybody else as they finished.  I can’t even being to say what that felt like.  Or what it meant.  That was amazing, to walk through the finish line and to have people cheering for you because you had finished something that you started.  Everybody should get that feeling more often.  Not all the time, but it was definitely a feeling of intense pleasure and accomplishment and a job well done.  Huge. Just huge.

 

And for Ee.  You woke up at 7am on a sunday morning.  You rolled out of the nice warm bed on a dreary, chilly weekend to drive me into the city.  You waited on street corners for me and took pictures of me doing something that I had been meaning to do and accomplishing that which I needed to accomplish.  You waited in the drizzly, rainy morning among all the other people also waiting, and at the end of the race you were there.  You hugged me, you kissed me, and you bought me frozen lemonade.  You have been such a huge support for me in all of this, in every little bit that I’ve wanted to get done and you have helped push me so much that I am now doing things I never thought possible.  You have made all of this that much better, and that much worth it.

 

So that’s it, my friends!  My first Race Recap!  Holy cow!

 

Thanks for sticking around with me on this amazing journey, It’s only going to get better from here!

 

Now, I’m going to go soak my feet in some epsom salts, curl up with some hot tea and a book, and enjoy the rainy sunday afternoon.

Backing Black

I have never been more determined to become a part of this country and its culture than I was on Sunday night.

 

First off, let me say that my time in Queenstown was massively awesome and there will be a further post on that, and the whole experience to come later.  But for now, I have to talk about Sunday night.

 

For those of you that don’t live in the world of sports, or actually in New Zealand or any of the other ‘major’ team countries, this year was the Rugby World Cup.  And it is a huge huge huge thing down here.  I don’t think I could even come up with a comparison that would make sense in the US levels of huge.  Possibly Huge like ice hockey is huge in Michigan.  Or high school football in Texas.  But even that can’t quite cover the obsessiveness that has come about over Rugby down here.

 

Now, I am not an expert, or even a beginner expert.  I know that there are different levels of play, different leagues, and I know that there are ways to divide the country (like canterbury versus auckland or something), but I’m still learning the ropes.  I can very well, and probably will, say something completely wrong about this but I’m giving my observations and opinions on a short window of exposure.  So, bear with me.

 

The Overall attitude down here during this World Cup has been astounding.  Teams from around the world came here (including the USA! Go Eagles!) to play in pool challenges.  And then after the Pool stages were over (the US didn’t get past the Pools, but we did beat Russia!), we got into the really exciting games.  The semis and the quarters and the final.

 

And let me tell you, as the weeks got closer and closer to the end of the Pools and the start of the actual ‘tournament’ part of it, this country got more and more united.  Black signs everywhere.  People with those flags flying from their cars with the NZ flag and the All Blacks flag, and pretty much everything else all became about the Rugby.  Everybody was ‘Backing Black’ in some way or another and the energy in this country was astounding.  There really is no way to explain an entire country coming together behind one team.

 

And no, the Olympis don’t really count.  Well, Maybe for the Dream Team.  I would say that it was close to the 1980 US Hockey team, but they were the underdogs.  The All Blacks are definitely not the underdogs.  They are supposed to be the best rugby (of this league) team in the world.  So, yeah, let’s go with Dream Team for US Basketball as an analogy.  But even that analogy doesn’t quite work.  The Dream Team had national backing, but only if you cared about basketball, and only if you cared about the Olympics.  And frankly, not enough of the US does either of those at all.

 

No, this is close to the Dream Team but amplified on a scale well past it.  Well past it.  The Semi-final game against Australia was billed as “The Final” because there was no way that France should have beaten Wales.  They had played so sloppily all tournament, there was no way that they could be a match for the mighty mighty All Blacks.   But France did beat Wales, and the ABs got past the Wallabies, and here you have it, The Final.

 

New Zealand vs France

 

Now, there are some rather epic backstories to this rivalry, and I can’t even begin to explain them all.  I’m sure that somebody else is more than happy to fill them in, but the relations between France and NZ have been strained at times in the past.  There was a Rugby match sometime back in the 90s that NZ was expected to win handily, but the French came out victorious.  Then there’s the Rainbow Warrior incident, and I’m fairly sure that there was another incident that was explained to me this weekend, but in all of the excitement, some of it has gotten lost in memory of wine and lack of sleep.

 

Suffice to say, emotions were running high for this match.  It’s a holiday weekend down here, with monday being a national holiday and pretty much everybody in the country having the day off.  So the Final was on Sunday night, and we were on holiday with some friends down in Queenstown.  One of our friends is a huge rugby fan and was insisting that we go to the pub to watch the game. Any pub.

 

At first, I resisted, but my god am I glad that I didn’t.

 

A bit more background, this a bit more personal.  I don’t usually like pubs. Or loud places. Or places with people drinking.  Or loud places with people drinking.  So being in a pub for a sporting event that was going to be loud and rowdy at first did not seem appealing to me in the slightest.  But, I want to know what it is to be a Kiwi, to really be somebody from New Zealand.  And part of that is going to be being around the loud, the drinking, and the rugby.  So what the hell.

 

I will tell you, I have never seen or been a part of something more epic, inspiring, and breathtaking than being in that pub watching the game.  We got their early, got a table, and had dinner (which was cheap bar food and not particularly good), and then sat and waited.  And waited.  And the pub slowly started to fill up around us.  And then, at around 830 or 845, suddenly, the pub around us was packed.  The French anthem was sung and people politely sang along (I think there were a few French supporters in the pub, but they were downstairs).  And then the NZ Anthem came on.  Everybody that I could see stood up and sang along.  And I don’t mean the polite singing along that we Americans do at a baseball game.  Or the way that we use the national anthem on TV as a means of having just three more minutes to get the gang settled and the food passed out. Everybody sang along to their national anthem (in both maori and english! with sign translation too!) in as full throated and fullbodied manner as they could.  The room was buzzing, the excitement was so palpable you could feel it against your skin like an electric current.  Everybody at back down (or remained standing if you didn’t have a seat) and got ready for the next big thing. The Haka.

 

One more pause here.  The Haka, or rather more properly it should be stated as being ‘a haka’, is a war dance done by native tribes around the southern pacific islands as a means of intimidation.  The All Blacks are not the only teams to perform a Haka, in fact most of the island national teams down here (Tonga, Samoa, Fiji) also perform their own.  But when we’re talking Rugby, and the All Blacks, then I believe it is appropriate to use the full on capitalized “The Haka”, because nearly everybody down here will know what you mean.

 

Now, the bar is full, lets say about 200-300 people, all buzzing and bubbling with Excitement.  The All Blacks line up for the Haka.  The French line up across the field from them in a flying V pattern (Yay Mighty Ducks!), and Piri Weepu starts the chant.  The entire bar goes silent.  The kind of anticipatory silence that crawls up your neck and settles at the base of your skull.  Speculation over which Haka (the ABs have several that they do, but there was strong anticipation for two of them, one being Kamate, and the other being Kapa O Pango) flittered around the room as the Haka leader, Piri Weepu, began the chant.  And the All Blacks performed Kapa O Pango (my favorite of the two).  The first lines were met with cheers in the pub, and then the French flying V flew up and formed in a line directly across from the All Blacks, accepting the challenge.  And the Pub went crazy.

 

The game was intense, seriously intense.  It was not one of the better played games, but it was still heart-wrenching.  There were a few missed kicks from both teams, and then a playbook perfect try (score) from the ABs and then halftime.  After halftime, the French scored and the game was at 8-7 New Zealand.  And that was where the game would stay.  For the next 40 minutes until the end of the game.

 

Intense.  The last two minutes of play amounted to essentially the AB’s wasting the clock, taking a knee, running out the clock as best they could and holding onto the ball for dear life.  Everybody in the pub is screaming, pounding on tables, clapping and shouting at the screen.  Rugby plays 80 minute games.  If there was a stop in play for any reason (like decapitation being a reason to stop play) then however long the stoppage was, was added onto the end of the game.  There was a total of almost 2 minutes of stopped play, so everybody was watching the play clock, watching it count up to 82 minutes.  Holding their breaths while shouting at the same time, and then the collective inhale at 82 minutes, the Referee blowing his whistle to signal the end of the game, and then the cheering. The screaming, the jumping around and hugging people who only an hour before you didn’t know and are pretty sure spilled their beer on you as they walked past.  There was shouting and screaming and absolute insanity.

 

There were tears and screams of joy.  And I’ll admit that I teared up a bit.  It was seriously the most intense thing, the most outstanding thing.  It will be a night that I will probably hold in my memory for as long as I can. Friends, atmosphere, and an entire country taking in a sigh of relief and then letting it out in one huge long exultant scream.  I had never experienced a live sporting event in a pub before, and I strongly doubt that I will ever experience another one quite like this ever again.

 

Last night was one of those moments that completely solidified something in my mind that I already knew.  I want to be a Kiwi.  I want to know this culture, live this culture, embrace this country and it’s people, and just be a part of it all.  I love this country, I love these people.  And I love the All Blacks!

who am I?

I started thinking about this recently, like yesterday, and I realized, I have no idea anymore.

I mean, I thought I knew who I was. But that was before I strapped on my shoes and went for a walk to the store.

Wait what? I walked to the store? Who the hell is this person?

Me, Sarah, would have just jumped into the car and driven to the store. got what she needed, put it in the car and driven back home.

Nope, I walked to the store, got what I needed, tossed it into my reusable shopping bag, and then walked home. And then today, I decided I wanted sushi for lunch. So, I strapped on the shoes, tossed on the coat and walked to the sushi place, and then walked back.

So my question becomes, who am I?

The Me that I knew back in the states would never do this, ‘walking’ thing. And then follow it up by going to the gym. The US Me would never have even thought about maybe attempting rock climbing. The US Me went everywhere in her car, even if it was only a mile away.

The Kiwi Me? Well the Kiwi Me for the first part says ‘only a mile’ as if that’s not a big deal anymore. The Kiwi Me eats chinese cabbage and wasabi. The Kiwi Me is thinking of ways to talk to pretty much everywhere. The Kiwi Me has entered into a 6k walk and is damned sure that she will not only complete it, but she will do so in a good amount of time. The Kiwi Me is excited to go out for nature walks, to see new things that the US Me would have been uncertain about. The Kiwi Me is starting to come around to the idea of rock climbing. And conquering fears. The Kiwi Me likes to drink water! And hasn’t had a can of soda in months!

I’m not sure who this Kiwi Me is, but I Like her. and I think that my Kiwi Me and I are going to get very friendly as time goes on.

Damn Straight.

My Boyfriends Friends

What great people.

 

I mean it.

 

I am so fortunate in life to be not only in this place and in this time, but to be blessed with such beautiful wonderful people around me.

 

They are caring, warm, loving, polite, and respectful.  They are brilliant, insightful, glamorous, and interesting.

 

I could not, in my life, have imagined myself in a better place than I am right now.  happy, loved, and with a slowly growing group of friends that are absolutely fantastic.

 

What brings this on? Simple.  We went on a picnic yesterday with some of Ee’s friends and basically all ended up at the last minute grocery run together, because nobody was really prepared for a picnic.  Cheese and salami and fruits, and bread, and salads.  And without saying anything, or making a statement at all, they picked up smoked salmon and some shaved roast beef because they knew I didn’t eat pork products and they wanted me to have something to eat other than just bread and cheese.

 

We went out for lunch with another friend to dim sum, and she made sure that there were options on the table for me that weren’t pork.

 

I am so very blessed to be surrounded by these people, and so very amazed and even humbled by their overwhelming kindness, generosity, and their acceptance of me.  At a time in my life when I could very much feel so very alone and lost, they have made it possible for me to not be so homesick.

 

My boyfriend’s friends have found a way to make me feel at home, and for that, I can never thank them enough.

 

Love you guys.

Sculpt 6k

Well. I’ve gone and done it now.

 

I signed up, registered and everything, to do a 6k run/walk in december.

 

6k?!!?  Holy smokes!

 

It’s pretty much a flat course, down in the CBD, 2 loops around a 3k block, with some chance to look out over the harbor on what will hopefully be a gorgeous summer day.  The plan to get ready for this?  Well, the website had a 5week walking plan set up.  Which basically involves walking 3 days a week for 15, 20, 25, 30 minutes a week respectively, and then taking week 5 a bit easier since that’s race week.  Well considering that for 3 days a week i’m going to the gym and walking on the elliptical for a total of 25 minutes a day, plus all the walking that I do around the house, I think I can manage that. Also, it’s in the CBD!  Which means there’s plenty to look at while walking!  I don’t intend to be leisurely about this, and I am taking it seriously.

 

But who says I can’t admire the architecture along the way?  Or marvel at the view of the harbor as I truck my big butt past it?

 

I am not going to be coming in first.  I am not even looking to ‘place’ or whatever. I am more looking to just be able to say “I finished!” And if I can say that I finished a 6k, then I can finish and do pretty much anything and everything else.  There will be no negativity about this (oh I’m sure there will be, but I will fight it), only positivety.

 

I can do this. I have what it takes.  I have some amazingly inspirational people out there.  There’s Genny who is on Facebook as “My goal to loose 100lbs in 1 year”.  There’s Kevin, over at http://350andfalling.blogspot.com  His pictures of before and current are amazingly helpful.  And there’s Andrea at http://runeatdatesleep.wordpress.com  .

 

Plus the friends that I have here in Auckland, and other parts of new zealand, friends and family back home, and the group of crazy guys from the Penny Arcade Forums’ Weightloss Challenge.  If these guys can do this, then so can I.

 

Look out world! Here I come!

I LIke To Move It

Well. I did it. I joined a gym.

I guess I should say that we joined a gym.

We are signed up for a 6 month contract at a gym that is up the hill from our house. It’s about a twenty minute walk (for me) to get there, which the guys at the gym said is a great warm up. Then 10 minutes on cardio, and then 3 circuits on 6 weight machines with 15 reps each, plus bench sit-ups of 10 reps each, then back to 15 minutes of cardio.

Tonight was my second night through the program, and I picked up some Biggest Loser music this afternoon to help me power through. Let me tell you. I am feeling the work out, but it’s a good pain. My instep on my right foot is hurting a bit, but the trainer said that it would happen and to try switching to a different elliptical. My left calf is tight as all hell, but that’s been that way since yesterday’s workout. I am getting a bit of a pain in my neck, not sure what that’s from. Might have to talk to the trainer about that on Saturday.

Ee joined too. They’ve got him doing some treadmill and then he’s down into the weight room to lift some weights and put some muscle on his scrawny self.

All in all, so far, it’s been a good experience. Of course I’ve only been going for 2 days, but it’s still a start. And a good feeling. I’m doing something to help myself and goddamn if I’m going to let myself out of it. Getting myself to this point was the hard part. Getting myself into the gym and onto the machines was the hurdle.

Like hell I’m gonna let myself fall off.