I set a goal for myself yesterday: run 40 miles in 4 weeks. Nothing huge, but something manageable so that I don’t end up failing like I did at trying to work out every day for 31 days. Or trying to write every day for 31 days (perhaps I’ll try again in September).
This is mostly what I do when I setting goals: I forget to make them manageable. I want to blow the whole thing out of the water the first go around. Go Big or Go Home! And it ends up with me going home because I can’t go that big. But again and again I set it up Huge. I don’t like to do things half-assed, which usually amounts to doing them not at all. Like the apartment that never gets thoroughly cleaned or organized because What is the fucking use when it’s so goddamn small and nothing fits anyway? Or cooking a fun meal because What is the fucking use when my meal partner is a meat and potatoes guy and will not understand/care how delicious the meal is? (though that actually works out when I think things aren’t good enough because he will eat them and he will smile and at least he will appreciate that I attempted something fancy and that I put on the apron to cook). This is essentially the internal conversation I have with myself for pretty much everything I want to do: What is the point? And mostly I don’t even bother trying to find a point to it because it’s so easy to find the not-point to it and just not do it.
But that leaves a lot of delicious recipes untried and a floor unmopped and a bed unmade and the carpet un-vaccumed. Which looks an awful lot like a life half-lived. Well, I guess not half-lived because I am certainly living it, but definitely a life lived less . . . fun? Or something like that.
So I am back to making weekly menus for dinner and trying something new instead of looking at Wes and then agreeing to spiral mac, delicious though it may be. I bought a mop for the kitchen and determined to get the floors clean(ish). Making the bed will probably not be happening though because someone is usually still there when I leave for work. Plus, I just read that making your bed can contribute to bed bugs and such because they need the dark and damp to thrive and making your bed creates such an environment. So it’s totally not me being lazy at all.
I’m also hoping to get on my bike more often. To try some longer rides and step up my intensity. To not immediately slow down after kicking ass on that huge hill (and I do sort of kick ass on hills). In two weeks Wes and I are meeting up with Ashley and Dave for some camping and bike riding. Ashley and Dave have been road biking for years (and years and years) so of course they’re going to kick our ass no matter how often we ride between when we made the plans and seeing them, but it’d be nice not to be so far behind them that’s it’s like we’re not even in the same party.
The first start of this whole trying to complete things is the menu that we made for this week. To get all the ingredients (I’m notorious for missing key ingredients and falling in a heap of tears to the floor) and to follow the damn recipe (with maybe some added embellishments but keeping the spirit of the recipe). I’d love to make it to the farmer’s market for some fresh items instead of picking through the ragged bunch of vegetables the grocery stores seem to have.
I guess that means that I’ll have to be strong and instead of flopping on the sofa for a catnap go straight to work on getting things going. Mad Men will have to wait until after the chores are done, unfortunately.