Reaching my limit

I climbed this rope at CrossFitRX and reached a new limit

I cried at gym a few weeks ago. I turned my sweaty face toward the wall, rubbed my stinging eyes with my t-shirt and swallowed a sob. The workout called for three rounds of these: five hang squat clean lifts, two rope climbs, five handstand pushups and two more rope climbs. Crazy, right? I scampered up that rope like a second grader to practice before the coach started the clock. My ego swelled, I felt good. I wasn’t going to consider subbing “wall balls” for rope climbs. I was confident.

Well, by the second round, my ankle was burning as I wrapped the rope around my leg to help launch my already aching body up the barbed wire hanging from the rafters. No amount of upper body strength could help me now. As I closed my eyes, squeezed, panted and pushed, the fat face of Mr. Wisniewski appeared, like a haunted bubble hovering over me.   He was dressed in his over-stuffed grey hoodie, polyester navy short shorts, cheap baseball cap and tube socks holding a mug of coffee and stupid clipboard. He was my elementary school gym teacher and couldn’t have climbed the rope if his season ticket subscription to the Detroit Tigers depended on it.

By the third round, my heart was pounding with frustration and fear as I stood at the bottom of the rope.  The others at the gym left me alone, sensing I was struggling with something more than  just the physical challenge. The vision of my old gym teacher’s face bobbed around me like a pesky fly. I swatted it away, along with my tears and self-doubt and finished the workout with a seriously chaffed and bloody leg.

The scab took a good two weeks to heal. It was nasty, black and bubbly and when I wore jeans I would roll them up above the war wound to avoid more chaffing.  Sorry, it was disgusting. But, when friends would inquire, I told them about the rope climb and every single person sighed, pausing for a moment as their gym teacher’s haunting face appeared from their past, a pesky fly.

Good luck to you today, as you shoo away those annoying naysaying obstacles. Climb, run, sing and by God, blog!

 

(*** Please note I LOVE MY GYM. I am nuts about CrossFit. The coaches would never let me injure myself and take the utmost care to train me on proper technique.  I don’t blame Mr. Wisniewski. I am completely responsible for my own self-inflicted boo-boos.)

One category, no tags

I learned, today at WordCamp ATL that I need to craft my blog posts around one category (ie. family feuds, sidewalk cracks, WordCamp or saltines) and bag the tags.  The key note speaker and break-0ut session leaders waxed poetic about the wonders of WordPress – and Holy Hashtag, there are millions and millions of wonders. As Judi Knight warned us, diving into WordPress is a slippery slope. The Plug-ins, the functions, the SEO opportunities, the flexibility, the coding fun.  Over 300 bloggers, designers, coders, marketing peeps, writers and techno-bobs showed up at 9am to the welcoming SCAD campus in Midtown Atlanta to learn about the plethora of pro’s of a platform that will help us all live a better life.  Stay tuned. I promise to use more plug-ins. Will you?

MLK, down the street

Celebrating and honoring Martin Luther King Jr. yesterday, living in Atlanta, just a mile from Ebenezer Baptist Church gave the day new meaning for me.

Watching the service broadcast on television, listening to Frederick D. Haynes III (senior pastor of Friendship West Baptist Church in Dallas) made me feel both significant AND insignificant.

I am proud to participate in my community via my church, my PTA, our local food bank and a nearby men’s shelter. I hope my small actions prove to my children that it’s not hard to make a contribution. It feels good.

But, mostly I feel insignificant if I really think about it or even think about it just a little.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is: ‘What are you doing for others?’”

I wonder what exactly the great Dr. King meant by “doing.” I know there are plenty of explanations through his writings and sermons of what he meant. I would like to think I “do” for others by being compassionate, generous, loving and thoughtful, as often as possible.  But, gosh. Am I really doing enough. No. Nope. Not even close.

So, I want to ramp up the active participation. Engage. That’s what I tell my kiddos. Click in. It’s harder than it sounds, I think.

I will let you know how things go. In the meantime, charity starts at home, right? I’ll make beds, bake my neighbors some cranberry bread, cook a pot of soup for a friend who just left her (jerky) husband and pray for the guys I see hugging their coffee cups along Ponce every morning.

Home sweet home

I just returned from an unplanned trip to Ann Arbor, Michigan where our oldest sweet daughter had to have her gall bladder removed. It’s one of those obsolete organs, though having laproscopic surgery to have the thing removed is anything but insignificant.  She was in the hospital for four long days, hooked to an IV and constantly monitored by the wonderful nurses at University of Michigan Hospital.  I won’t bore you with the details, mostly out of respect for Jane. If she has to hear about the four incision points, the size and location of the dozen or so stones, the digestive system’s recovery or the word BILE DUCT, I think she’ll shove IV tubing down my throat.

She was a trooper. My brothers were her gentle cheerleaders. Our dearest friend Melissa was on board before I flew in to grill the ER docs and hold Jane’s hand.  Texts, FB posts and emails kept us positive.

Life if precious. I know, I know. But it is.

When I got home (thank you, Greg and Victoria, for the Skymiles) I hugged my kids tight. I suggest you do the same.  And, repeat again and again.

 

 

 

Over the handlebars into the ER

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all the quick-acting people who came to my aid yesterday on N. Highland Ave in Inman Park as I lay in a panicked mess after wiping out on my bike.  I was on my way back from a smooth yoga class and my yoga mat apparently got snagged in my front wheel, halting my bike sending me flying over the handlebars into the pavement. Within minutes, a doctor named Tim (or was it Tom?) was taking my pulse, a woman with a deep voice was covering me with her coat and standing between my eyes and the sunshine, and someone was calling my husband and 911.  The sound of my body hitting the pavement and the thought of possible impending injuries scared the shit out of me and I started sobbing, which hurt. I will spare the details of my first-ever ambulance ride, the five hours in the Atlanta Medical Center ER and the restless night. But, I want to somehow say how much I appreciate those runners, coffee drinkers and Saturday morning neighbors who were so kind and gentle with me.

Hello, Autumn crisps.

In honor of a visit from my super fine friend, Miss Nancy Rousseau of Grosse Pointe, Michigan, I baked an apple crisp. She is a four star flight attendant with American Airlines and orchestrated a layover in the ATL. We were room-mates at Albion College, worked at Colonial Inn, Harbor Springs together after our freshman year and wore obnoxious bridesmaid dresses in one another’s wedding. We did spring break in Ft. Lauderdale then New York City together. Every summer, for the last 11 years, we catch up while I am in Bay View and she is at her dreamy cottage in Menonaqua.  I love this girlfriend to pieces.For our recent reunion, Jim cooked steaks. Actually, he seared then perfectly grilled some steaks.  We added roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes, shredded roast brussels sprouts and an arugula salad tossed with shaved parmesan and  this amazing balsamic vinegar from Fustini’s in Petoskey, Michigan.

We served the warm apple crisp with Haagen-Dazs vanilla bean ice cream. They used to do a ginger ice cream. Couldn’t find it.

Three days later, I scraped this plate clean after eating probably half the entire crisp myself.  I think I’ll make one a week, or bi-weekly, tweaking the amount of rolled oats, sugar, butter and rolled oats.  Any ideas? Join me?

Walk the Beltline for music, dance, art

If you haven’t walked the Beltline, Atlanta’s 22-mile railway corridor path through parks, neighborhoods and urban renewal, now it the time to do it.  I helped my friend, artist Jaynie Crimmons, install her project (see my post below).

Here are some highlights happening over the next few weeks:

Sunday, October 16^th

Location: Lucile Tunnel

• 2 p.m. – Cameron Stuart and friends, The Specter and His Ceremonies

Location: Reynoldstown Stage (Behind H. Harper Station, 904 Memorial Drive, Parking: Stein Steel off Kirkwood Avenue SE, Triumph Lofts off Memorial Drive or on-street parking)

• 5 p.m. – Park Cofield & Co., The Ogre’s Arm

(From the people who revealed the Gyrastacus to the Atlanta, comes a new “one-night only” spectacle event.  Comprised of monster hunters, musicians, folklorists, and entertainers, Park Cofield & Co. will present a variety show for all ages – complete with live music, traditional dance, and delights from around the world.  Join this motley crew as they tell thrilling tales of monsters, share stories of curious creatures, and relate the exciting events of their recent adventures to the East and seek and capture the Shuntendoji, the most fearsome ogre of Japan!)

Location: Southeast section of the Beltline off Wylie Street

• 5-7 p.m. – Artist Walk in the Southeast

(This the second of three walks where we will explore the Art of the Atlanta Beltline exhibition on foot and have artists give us the history and inspiration of their work.  We hosted the Westside Walk October 1^st.   The final walk will be November 18^th (northeast).  All events are on our Facebook page.)

Thursday, October 20th

Location: Reynoldstown Stage (Behind H. Harper Station, 904 Memorial Drive, Parking: Stein Steel off Kirkwood Avenue SE, Triumph Lofts off Memorial Drive or on-street parking)

• 6:30-8:30 p.m. – Art on the Beltline Artists’ Panel

(Please join us for an insightful, behind-the-scenes panel discussion with a few of our artists from this year’s Art on the Beltline exhibition.  We’ll be at H. Harper Station on the Reynoldstown section of the trail in the southeast. H. Harper Station will have a cocktail selection available for everyone who attends and their Chef will craft an art inspired menu for both before and after the event.  It will be a menu of 4 small plates at $7 each or all of them (which would be a full meal for two not overly hungry people or one very hungry person) for $25.)

Friday, October 21st

Location: Reynoldstown Stage (Behind H. Harper Station, 904 Memorial Drive, Parking: Stein Steel off Kirkwood Avenue SE, Triumph Lofts off Memorial Drive or on-street parking)

• 6 p.m. – Twinhead Theatre, Murder on the Beltline

 

Saturday, October 22^nd

Location: Gordon White Park

• 4-7 p.m. – Concert hosted by Carl Anthony and Mausiki Scales White

(Open air concert in one of our Atlanta Beltline parks.  Bring your chairs, picnic blankets, and snakes and enjoy the music.  This is the perfect opportunity to explore art along the Westside trail, too!)

For more details about this year’s artists, installation locations and performing arts schedule please visit art.beltline.org.  Also visit us on our Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/ArtontheAtlantaBeltLine where you can post pictures of installations and events, make comments and interact with Art on the Beltline.  Feel free to share our Facebook page with your friends, family, and the organizations you’re connected to.

 

 

I did what?

I know it looks like gibberish.

But this work out was presented by the fearless leaders at CrossFit RX.  What this means (if my math is right) is that I lifted a long bar with 143 pounds 24 times, and  did 46 ring dips (hauling my body up through a set of hanging rings) plus 480 single jump ropes. Impressed? You should be.  Good lord.

This gym is a community of strong people with real lives. Still, they take time to push their bodies to the edge of reality.  Pretty remarkable, actually.

Another World

No, not the soap opera.

Indiana.

Though I have only lived in Atlanta just over two years, I forgot how the rural Midwest is so, well, rural.  It may as well be a foreign country. A foreign country that you want to visit over and over.  We flew out of ATL to FWW (Ft. Wayne, Indiana). That was like going from the Mall of America to a tiny mom and pop corner shop.

Once we left the rental car parking lot, we were lost in  miles and miles of dusty gold wheat fields punctuated by fading red barns and rambling farm houses.  The endlessly flat terrain was mesmerizing.  The blue sky was so pure and promising.  The trees hinted at Autumn. The mammoth white grain silos loomed as we approached the small town.

Bunge grain elevator, Decatur, IN

Driving through the countryside, I realized how urban my life has become. It’s rare to be surrounded by real silence here in town.  Pavement, tall buildings and cars are my landscape.

I am not complaining, only commenting. Only blogging.

I appreciate

where I live and

where I can go,

where I have been and

what I know.

The Inman Ghouls come out to play

I stopped for lunch at the always perky Across the Street on N. Highland in (where else) Inman Park. I guess the location is actually in Old Fourth Ward, but I call it my ‘hood, nevertheless. This charming and friendly restaurant offers up Mexican-inspired food that always hits the spot. The bartenders I have met are Taran and Ali who are not only good at their trade, but also dang fun to chat with. The partially-covered patio is just feet away from the Stone Mountain Path, which promises views of mighty fine cyclists and runners, biking commuters, families and pups enjoying the well-groomed paved trail that winds through Atlanta’s greatest neighborhoods from Piedmont out to Stone Mountain.

Across the Street’s co-owner, Ali Wild was tangled in her web of purple cellophane ribbon today, jumping in to the Halloween decorating on this fine first day of October. She was creating a shiny web on the patio, the first of what I am sure will be layers upon layers of magic.  I could tell she was proud of her restaurant and of her staff. When I mentioned that I am going to do a post about my favorite Inman Park bartenders and wanted to include a few at Across the Street, she immediately chimed in saying ALL her bartenders are Inman girls, living in the neighborhood, promoting a true local flavor.  It’s working, I told her.  When I was riding my bike a few weeks ago along the Path, I remembered I needed corn tortillas for my family’s dinner so stopped, chatted up the bartender who kindly popped into the kitchen, bringing forth a foil-wrapped gift for my dinner table.  Now that’s service. Ali assured me that The Market, next to the restaurant, will always offer up anything from the kitchen, as well as the coolest selection of food and groceries.  Check it out. More on this later.  Shop local. Eat local. Drink local.