I am defined by numbers.
1–The number of children I have. I often hear, “Is he your only one?” Sometimes asked with pity. My answer? “He’s my only one and am very, very happy and grateful for that.” So stuff it, lady. (Ok, I don’t say the latter part, but I want to.)
8–As of today, the number of years I’ve worked at the Pittsfield Public Library. Although there are times when I want to tear my hair out due to a few scary or annoying members of the public, this is mostly a good place to be and I hope to be there a while.
10–The size pants I currently wear. THAT number makes me pretty happy. Especially considering the fact that I wore a size 24 at age 18. At one point I thought the single digits in clothing would be a great place to be, but my hip bones have told me otherwise.
16–I’ve been married for this many years. Often it seems like for.ev.er. Other times it seems like….a long time ago. 😉
40–The age I was dreading for over a year, and now that I’m here….it’s ok. Mostly good, I think. I have more aches and pains and occasionally hear, “You don’t LOOK 40!” I think that’s bullshit, but whatever. People usually mean well when they say it, or they say it to cover their shock because they thought I was really 50.
165–My goal weight and the number I typically struggle with, wrestle with and sometimes want to strangle. Currently I’m one pound less than that….until my official stickK weigh-in on Monday when my scale will tell me that I’m heavier. It will tell me I had a lot of fun over the weekend AGAIN and that fun cost me at least a pound or two. But on Thursday? Yup, I’ll be back at goal or below.
740–The number of miles I want to run this year. This is the number that makes me fret, although it shouldn’t. Look, last year my goal was to run 600 miles. I did so by November 30th, and was so freakin’ proud of myself. So this year, I wanted to up the mileage, but I wanted the number to sort of mean something. Or at least to figure out where I would be in the country if I ran a certain number of miles. If I ran from my home in central Maine to my former graduate school in western Pennsylvania, then I would need to run nearly 740 miles. So what the hell? I chose 740 miles as my goal for this year and thus far, I have run 634 miles. I should be able to do this, right?
In theory, yes. Of course! Currently, though, I’m only averaging 15 miles per week. And that would be just fine and dandy except I have to have varicose vein surgery again at the end of November. No running for 2 weeks and not as much mileage for the 2 weeks following. Lately during my morning runs, I do math in my head and figure out how many miles I should try to run BEFORE the surgery, but honestly? I can’t get out of bed early enough to get more than 4 miles in (and often it’s only 3 miles). My left foot has been hurting for the past month and now my back wants to give out. (Oh yes, 40 can be just lovely sometimes!) Will I make my goal? And does it really matter if I don’t?
It really won’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I won’t die if it doesn’t happen. No one will get hurt if I don’t reach my goal. I’ll be disappointed in myself and no doubt beat myself up over it, but ultimately it will mean nothing. And yet……I can’t stop trying. I won’t stop trying. Maybe that’s the beauty of this resolution I made for myself back in January. All year it forced me to keep trying to better myself, to do something I had never done before but desperately wanted to. And CAN do.
Just one more number to define me.
106–Miles left to run for 2013.
Now let’s hope by December 31st, that last number becomes a big, fat ZERO.
Let the countdown begin!!