It’s not any big secret or revelation that I am, shall we say, a substantial woman. That is to say, the term “waif” will never be used in conjunction with my name. I’ve accepted that I’m never going to be a size 2, and frankly, I like having some meat on my bones. Ancestrally, my people were potato farmers, and I look like I could probably haul a few bushels myself. If I had the energy…

Which brings me to how a spreadsheet (well, sheets – I went a little overboard) is saving my ass, because, really, I’m too young to feel this old.

I can’t seem to stick with anything when it comes to exercising. I don’t see exercise as something to do for a short period of time, in an effort to lose weight for an event/season/whatever; this mirrors my attitude towards eating better (thanks, end of my first year of grad school, for making eating well very difficult…yeesh…). So even though I see exercise as a lifetime practice, I don’t actually practice it much. Until I was introduced to the spreadsheet.

My friend shared a Google docs spreadsheet with me that allowed me to log my push-ups. Not very exciting in and of itself, but since the document was shared, you could see who else was doing push-ups, how many, and what other people had to say about their progress. There were encouraging words as well as shame if you didn’t keep up. It was fun to log things and the accountability was nice. Another friend wrote about this spreadsheet system here.

Time was, the word spreadsheet gave me the shakes. But now I keep my own spreadsheets tracking my progress towards my 10 mile race in October. I don’t share them, but the very simple act of logging my runs is…I can’t even come up with the right words. It’s all of these things, cheesy as they may sound: helpful, motivational, inspiring, pride-generating, nerdy, wonderful. I get twitchy if I don’t have things to log; I’m happy to say despite a hectic schedule of late, I’ve kept completely on my training schedule, and have even added to my workouts via my new bike. Letting my inner computer nerd shine is doing wonders for my ass, saving it one column by one row at a time.

Last year the person on one side of my plot redrew the lines (just around HER plot, but it cut into mine!) drawn on the wooden boards containing the whole plot. If this were the suburbs, someone just increased their density by taking my land through illicit eminent domain. The year before, the person on the other side of me dug his irrigation trenches/walkways into my plot, and when I met him, he remarked how nice it was to meet me, and how it was no trouble for him to help with my trench….  Not how I saw it. I mean, sure, I’ll use it, but if we’re going to share a trench, half of the space should come from my plot and half from his. If only our garden plot could be divided with appropriate buffer space…an easement…

So this year, they only drew the lines to show the boundaries of each plot on one side. So 15-20 feet away, there is nothing keeping you from creating a bigger wedge than you should have and screwing your neighbor. OK, OK, I’m being dramatic, but after two years of not meeting my neighbors before we could talk about sharing space and having precious real estate taken away, I decided to go ahead and mark out the space. Now, if you’ve been to my apartment, you know that I occasionally walk around with a level making sure that my pictures are alles in Ordnung. So it should be no surprise to anyone that I went down to my garden with a level. Yep. I wanted to be fair, so I put in nail in the middle of each stripe of spray paint marking the boundaries of my garden, and measured the distance between them. I then extended string down the western side of the plot, and made sure the juncture of string and wood formed a right angle, drove in another nail, and measured (down to 1/8″) the same distance out as the other side, drove in a nail, and extended another string, forming a boundary on the eastern side of my plot. I am a colossal nerd, but a fair one.

Much of this was done to protect my neighbors’ plots, as well. I can’t eyeball a straight line to save my life, and I would have hated to start digging and planting, only to find out that I’d taken over some of their space.

So why do I feel like a hostile neighbor? Now that the trenches are dug and my plot is ready for planting, should I remove the string?

I’m very excited about the organization that I’m working with and the work that I’ll be doing for them, but with summer approaching, I’ll miss my commutes that include time outdoors and not in a car. To be sure, I won’t miss showing up to work looking like I just stepped out of a sauna in my business casual (thanks, DC summer!), but I did come to appreciate walking by trees, breathing non-circulated air, and using at least some of my own power to transport myself. If I am able to secure a job with this organization after I complete my program, I will move closer. I’m absolutely not interested in an all-auto, long commute. This summer’s commute is a reverse commute, which makes it slightly more bearable…but only slightly. I’ve gotten used to rarely needing gas, oil changes, and the like.

Aside from wanting to save money on gas and car maintenance, and from wanting to reduce my carbon footprint, I really love my pedestrian commutes because they provide some form of outdoor living – to accomplish a fundamental task, I have to spend more time outside than just walking to/from my car. When I think of great places, I think of places where spending time outside is more than the time you spend in your driveway, and where time outside isn’t simply just destination-based. It’s not just about getting to the park; what are the routes to the park like? If you wanted to walk or bike there, is it attractive and safe to do so?

How wonderful would it be if we could really live outdoors to some extent? I don’t mean that we should all move into tents, but I do mean that I judge a locality based on its options for outdoor living. Are there restaurants with ample outdoor seating? Are streets lined with shade trees? Do the parks invite you in, encouraging you to spend time there, with a variety of activities or features? Are “public spaces” inviting or hostile? I’ll have to take some pictures, but some of the “public spaces”/plazas in my town are, yes, technically public, but it wouldn’t be clear to someone unaffiliated with the buildings next to them, and they aren’t exactly the most inviting spaces. In other words, are “public spaces” conducive to outdoor living, or are they just another feature for developers to brag about and planning students to create GIS projects out of?

A New Orleans porch designed for outdoor living.

A few weeks ago I was in New Orleans for a conference. I’m smitten with the outdoor living there. Granted, it was April, and I’m sure July is a bit of a different story, but from what I could see, this is a city that knows how to live outside.

With the sting still burning, I’m back in training mode. You see, I go to workshops, wax poetic to whoever will listen, and generally concern myself with an interest in healthy communities. When I think of my future career as a planner, I think about what I can do to help ensure access to healthy food and recreational opportunities. While I eat reasonably well most of the time, I’ve fallen way off of the recreational wagon. And I feel like a slug for it. I want other people to have access to trails and fitness opportunities, yet I’m surrounded by them and don’t take advantage myself. School is an easy excuse, but the truth is, I’m better focused mentally when I am physically as well.

So no more preaching without practicing. I’m conjuring up the great memories of how I felt when I was in my best shape ever. I’m into week 5 of the 100 push-up challenge (why, yes, I am doing the girly ones – but you have to start somewhere!). I’ve registered to run the Army Ten Miler in October, which may not be a big deal to some, but for me, it’s huge. My trademark slogan used to go something like, “I only run if a bear or a tennis ball is chasing me.” I’ve got goals in between now and then, and am looking forward to a summer of outdoor living and recreating.

Chalk this all up to one more lesson in mindfulness. I’m being more mindful of my values as they play out in daily practice.

A couple weeks ago, I noticed that my to-do list had inched off of one full page and onto a second. Some of that comes from the satisfaction I get from crossing things off of the list; sometimes I add so that I can cross off. But most of it was just stuff I needed to write down lest I lose the task forever.

The problem with my to-do lists is that I never get everything done. I end up transferring items to new lists, and some things get carried over for months. I recognize that I have a problem. And in looking at that long list, growing bigger by the hour, I recognized that most of the items weren’t top priority.

In my (sure to be) life-long quest to simplify, prioritize, and find balance, I came up with a daily to-do list. It’s posted by the light switch in my bedroom, and so far, it’s worked pretty well. I’m fairly liberal in the interpretation of each of these items, and in completing them, I’m mindful of what I’m doing, which has been a tremendous help to my stress level.

So while I won’t entirely get rid of the list of things to do, I’m happy to report the following as the priorities on my daily to-do list:

• Do something physical.
• Do something spiritual or restorative (this certainly does not need to be in any organized fashion).
• Do something organizational.
• Do something that resolves (for example – tackling that email I’ve been putting off for a few days).

Feeling more peaceful, less stressed, and like I’m actually getting more done.  Namaste.

Not sure where to get it done? Your local extension agency should offer the service or provide information on vendors who do. Prices vary, but I’ve seen $8-15 on average, more if you want lead testing. Lead testing isn’t a bad idea if you live in a fairly urban environment.

This week I’ve been on Spring Break from grad school, and admittedly wished that, in the middle of calculating Input-Output tables and reading about the excesses of sprawl, I’d had the time to go back to CAP and volunteer again. I could feel a little bit of jealously turning my face green when I thought about all those college kids who would be out in Kentucky, working with a crew on a house, eating soup beans and cornbread, staying up all hours of the night playing cards or sharing life philosophies with new friends, learning that the local Dairy Queen is absolutely where it’s at, and hopefully listening to a little contemporary Appalachian folk by way of Mitch Barrett. Green never looked so good on me.

That is, until I went to visit a good friend of mine who volunteered and lived with me at CAP when I went back after college to work with them for a year. I’d decided that her house would be a great place to disconnect from technology and get away for a couple of days. While there, I came across a burned CD with a name I didn’t recognize, but with the words “CAP Spring Break WorkFest Mix.” Ah, yes, a WorkFest mix. I couldn’t have called it better. There was Phish, Bon Jovi, the Foundations, and Jars of Clay. That’s: a jam, 80s rock/hair, British soul, and contemporary Christian band. And with that, I was no longer jealous. In fact, I was deliriously happy – ridiculous even – thinking about 400 college kids in big vans -  their hoodies and jeans covered in cold Kentucky mud, their bellies full of Ale-8 and donuts from the Manchester Bakery – driving back on a March Friday to wherever they came from, jammin’ out to whatever mix CDs someone made for their trip or that they exchanged once there.

I mean, what kind of kid puts Phish and Jars of Clay on a mix CD?

A CAP kid – seeking some kind of meaning and connection in the world, striving to answer the call to serve others, aiming for peace and social justice, trying to figure out where that tug on their heartstrings is coming from, and, above all, jammin’ out, havin’ fun, and workin’ hard in the mountains. God bless ‘em.

If you’re interested in reading the stories of volunteers at CAP, go here. And for your listening/visual pleasure, I present the aforementioned Phish and Jars of Clay songs:

What’s the cure? Could this just be a way of manifesting idealism? Can I use my powers for good?

I found myself pining for things that probably don’t actually exist. But I refuse to believe that “the grass ain’t greener, the wine ain’t sweet, either side of the hill” (Thanks, Jerry!). I think sometimes change is good, and that things can be better/different in other locations, doing other things, etc.

Is the restlessness simply a result of the end of winter, anticipation of spring and new beginnings, and a lackluster feeling toward some of the things going on my life? I’d hate to think that the good parts of being romantic and perfectionist are totally being run out of town by the D & NS Train (Disappointed & Never Satisfied Train).

What say you, world?

In other, only marginally related news, I’ve been jonesing for some technology-free time. For me, that means no Internet, no computer, no TV/movies, and no cell phone except for emergencies. I don’t enjoy doing the no-music thing, and since this isn’t punishment, but actually something I look forward to doing, I’m cool with the iPod/CD player/radio. Looking forward to taking a few days away from everything next week; I’m even headed out of town to further clear my brain.

Inspiration for tech-free days comes from many sources. The fire under my ass to do it comes from stories like this about people who are living second lives online…

…and with that, off to motivate myself and try to balance the romanticism and idealism with reality.

Almost a year ago, I wrote that I had not taken her phone number out of my phone yet. I still haven’t, but it doesn’t make me sad now to know that it’s still in there. I pause when I see it, for sure, but I think, and hope, that I’m moving to a place where, when I see her entry in my contacts, I can think about how I’m doing all of the things that I hoped I’d be doing at this time, just a year over the last time I talked to her. She and I spoke at length, over many years, about my educational and career aspirations.  I’d hoped she’d see the day that I went back to school to follow my heart and ideals, as she’d been so encouraging and instrumental in helping me get my butt off of the couch to fill out applications.

My grandmother took me to my first tea party, at the home of a dear friend. I was the only kid. In a few weeks, I’m hosting my friends for another tea party. This one’s for you, Grandma Dorothy!