KEEP ON ROCKIN' ME BABY

Aww, Steve Miller Band, every time I think about capturing the last three days in words, I am called to your song, True, Fine, Love. I laugh as I catalogue my thoughts—and I sing in my head—because ever since Tuesday evening I have found myself constantly qualifying everything with, “I aint complainin’ but…”

“I aint complainin’ but…” It’s like playing on repeat on my ipod.

My partner on this challenge, she and I incidentally have a steep history with Steve Miller Band. “The Joker” comes to mind specifically and I flash to a high school video I made for her birthday, silly images spinning to his quirky beat. Nearly twenty years later, we are still bound by Stevie; in the gym, through texts about what to eat for lunch, and in dialogue about what we looked like back then: she, nicknamed “Scrawny,” and I fighting genetics on the other end of the continuum.

In anticipating a new post, I never thought I’d call upon a late 60s band to help frame my piece. But as is everything these days, it seems oddly meant to be. Scrawny and I giggled at the gym Wednesday night about how I loved hanging at her house as a kid—an escape from the Snack Well-mania in my own home and the pursuit of Star Crunches or Nutty Bars in her cabinets. There was something excitedly forbidden about those Sara Lee sweets. A taste so satisfying in my memory, but one that today, I would readily relinquish for a glass of red wine. 

Gone are the days. Ugh. Anyhow. 

So on her way to the gym (to back-pedal in time) my partner texted me in jest:

“You ready for my first complaint?”

She proceeded to grumble about headaches, stomach pangs, and not being able to work out without a hair tie, in the same vein that she’d send me emoticons of string bikinis. She has always made me laugh—her ability to conflate bitching and comedy. I keenly remember lagging with her in 12 minute mile runs at high school soccer practice, even back then, the two of us padding our deflated egos with caustic wit.

In any case, while my partner contemplated complaining the whole way to the gym, and I continuously dissected the “cans and cants” of this darn challenge, I realized how much more profound this experience was certain to be. I realized however bound we were, to each other, to whatever parameters, that our experience of it was sure to be quite individualized. That is, what is challenging for me may not be for her and vice versa. And the obvious goals for some aren’t really as obvious for me. So I realized, I needed to set my own. I needed to clarify my goals.

Important note: I have an aversion to scales. Something about a fourth grade nurse’s office experience that made me imbue it with some kind of power that took twenty plus years to undo. The truth is, today, even when I go to the doctor, I say, “don’t tell me” when they ask that I step on the scale. And yet, I almost routinely ask them in the same breath, “shall I leave my shoes on?” As if my heels would significantly affect the digits on the scale—the digits I already said I didn’t want to hear.

So appropriately so, my goals aren’t about weight, or fitness for that matter. As I already have about 30 plus years of conditioning to keep me on the wagon. So what might those challenges be for me? How can I repurpose this Challenge to my benefit? It’s taken some thought, and negotiation, and re-framing. And so I have decided to share some ideas in print:

DRAFT 6-Week Challenge Goals

1.     Alcohol consumption limited to once a week (with one exception a week, like a date J)

2.     Try a new, healthy recipe a week (and cook it myself; Whole Foods doesn’t count)

3.     Physical Activity EVERYDAY even if it is just a stroll (although commit to five good works a week—hot yoga included!)

4.     Stay true to myself and do not compromise the growth I have experienced over the years after studying the body and the mind; that means do not get consumed with points, competition, or being right!

5.     Nurture the soul while nurturing the body daily! As my brother in law said, “Watching Reality TV may not be considered healthy living.” So, read, watch films, roam around a new neighborhood. Today, I went to the zoo for example. For the first time in like 20 years.

I am not sure if these goals seem overly ambitious or under ambitious, but it’s sort of sad to think that hardest of them all for me is #1 and #5. Anyhow, I am still plugging away at this. And I could use thoughts. Adding one date a week may be unrealistic unless I have an unknown matchmaker in my reading audience. And six-weeks wine free is simply setting myself up for failure. Cause look, I already lost points last night for a social outing that involved vino at a hot foodie spot, called: 100 Wines. And now, by simply stating the former, I am already breaking #4 and planning to work out twice today or tomorrow to compensate for it. Such is the joy of goal setting; sometimes you just have to tweak them along the way. 

To abrubtly end this post on a Saturday eve as I head to the gym, I wanted to share that our team name is Rock-R-Tushies. Or Rock N’ Tushies. Or something like that. And there is no doubt—in the spirit of Steve Miller Band again—that this challenge will Keep On Rockin’ Me. Rockin’ Me Baby.