Unlikely motivation

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 2, 2011 . 3:01AM

As I came down the stairs, I could hear Sophie’s feet pad the floor as she “danced” in circles. She does this when she’s excited and it had been a more recent occurrence this week, more so than other weeks in the past because she’s had good reason to be happy. My dogs get plenty of exercise and trust me when I say that these little beasties jail-break my back fence on a regular basis. Sophie, in particular, is guilty of this, though, luckily, they confine their breaks to mainly the next-door neighbor’s backyard where they happily yap at the neighbor’s dog who barks mournfully back at them from his enclosed patio.

Lately, though, the weather has been nice and I have made the decision to be a more active person. As such, I have been making it a priority to find reasons to move my body. This benefits Sophie in that she sees me suit up in the sloppiest mom-gear you’ve ever seen, complete with ridiculous slouchy cap, push my headphones into my cell phone and slink out the door like I’m heading off to prison for the day.

Not Sophie, however. The minute I come day those stairs, it is on like Donkey Kong. So, this day, I could hear her start her own routine and I smiled.

I hit the bottom step and her little toenails began to click across the floor towards the door where her harness and leash hang. Water dribbled down my chin as I attempted to hydrate myself while not choking on the scent of the most obnoxious sunscreen ever and I watched her eyes dilate much the same way those of an addict do when they get a fix. Sophie jumped on the couch and begin to whine and do circles, which is her way of telling me, “C’mon, C’mon, let’s go.” As I placed her harness over her head, she gently lifted her paw through the harness on her own to hurry the process. I laughed and turned on the programs that I use on my cell phone that track my progress and give me tunes to listen to while I walk. During this short 15 seconds I thought her little head might explode as she pulled me towards the door. The other dogs looked at us with reproach.

We were met with a cloudy day as Sophie did her dancing circles down the steps to let me know how excited she was to be going on her walk. When I say she turned to me and smiled with a full set of teeth, I’m not exaggerating. She’s started doing this for the entire first two blocks of our walk until she starts to sweat and her tongue lolls out of her mouth and she realizes that walking is work. While I fiddled with my phone and walked uphill and downhill and all over the place, my dog did doggie things. She stared at the blue sky. She sniffed at birds who were bathing in puddles, but left them alone. She considered all forms of anything on the ground leftovers that she could potentially eat unless I caught her in time. This included worms, dead birds and bird poop. Other dogs were cheerfully greeted with a growl and then a playful yap and then promptly ignored. Squirrels, however…

Squirrels were to be chased with reckless abandon. By this I mean that squirrels were to be chased regardless of how hard I tugged and pulled on the leash and if that meant I fell on my backside because Sophie has twisted it around my body, then so be it. Squirrels were the enemy.

Also to be chased were men with their shirts off. Clearly, to dogs, this is a symbol of some form of aggression that will not stand. I had no idea this was the case until Sophie began to chase a half-clothed man and refused to stop until I almost fell into a street full of traffic and I screamed at her. This caused the half-clothed man to look at me like I was the one with the problem and to run even faster in the opposite direction. Sophie merely gave me her doggy grin and trotted back to me as if nothing happened.

Towards the end of our walk, we headed down the path toward home and Sophie cheerfully barked her recognition that we were near. This is the same dog that almost had a coronary that I wouldn’t take her on her walk quickly enough. As we edged toward our mailbox, she looked back at me and smiled her doggy smile. We were home and tomorrow would bring another walk.

There will always be squirrels out there that need to be taught a lesson.

A new year: Time for change

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . January 2, 2010 . 5:11AM

With the new year, there inevitably come some feelings that propel change. The major one that I think affects most people is the feeling of loss. Generally, I would say that the loss of time is the one they feel most keenly. Hence, the influx of weight loss agendas and new year’s resolutions. People experience the feelings of time ill-spent and the terror of one less year to accomplish what they expected from their life and from their self.

A new year can be a blessing or a curse. For some of us, myself included, a new year is a chance to white the slate clean and start anew. A time for cleaning out the old issues and opening doors to something new seems to be a fresh start in what feels like a time of old hat dilemmas. In the last year, loved ones have been lost, children have been added, jobs have been lost/gained/relost/regained, personal misfortunes have been overwhelming and the kindness and generosity of others has been a beacon of light for those who are feeling lost.

This year, I wish for kindness. For all of you. In whatever form you may find it.

Stairmaster, you elusive mistress

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . December 9, 2009 . 8:33PM

For a while now, I’ve been working on my fitness and thus far, it’s been a productive measure. I feel things toning and fat is burning and unpleasant things are happening to my body that I’ve been reassured are GREAT! Those unpleasant things mean that what I’m doing is working! Woot!

Last week, I was on the phone with my trainer and he scolded me. This is becoming commonplace. I need a little scolding now and then because, quite frankly, I’m bad. I have horns. Don’t be surprised when I do bad things. I’m not good. So, yes, sometimes I get scolded.

The reason for the scolding this time was that I’d become comfortable with the evil, wretched treadmill and the *heavens open up and light shines down* amazing, wonderful, beautiful elliptical machine. I was alternating them and frankly, my dear, it wasn’t enough. I needed variety. [insert scolding and I told you's here]

My response was “Yeah, yeah, yeah but stairs scare me! When I climb the stairs at school I end them in the fetal position and rocking.”

My trainer, Mike, was not impressed, yelled some more, and told me to get my butt on the stairmaster.

Whatever.

So I have thrown in it the mix.

It’s going to kill me yet.

When I’m on the stairmaster, I don’t get the nice feelings or the high that I get on the elliptical or the numbing, dulling zone out of the treadmill. I get the tired legs and the “you’re going to die mwahahahahah” of the stairmaster. I admit: I want to give up. Here’s how I don’t: I make up elaborate fantasies and schemes as to what will happen if I can complete my 25 minute stairmaster rotation.

“If I can just get through the next 10 minutes I can have that condo in downtown Nashville that I want! Floor to ceiling windows, baby. Decorate it any way I want it and my drive to both work and school is down to 10 minutes. Boo-yah!”

“If I can just get through the next 20 minutes, the minute I step off this stairmaster, a swarthy pirate named Hugh Jackman is going to come out the bathroom, growl, “MMM, I always liked ‘em chubby” and throw me over his shoulder while I meekly say, “Help. I’m being abducted.” Then he will buy me my condo in Nashville.”

Wait. What were we talking about? Oh, the stairmaster. See? That’s how I get through it. Man, I love me a pirate.

You haven’t conquered me yet, stairmaster. Hugh and I are going to get through this. We always do.