Slow Your Roll, Butthole

"Slow your roll," per the Urban Dictionary (which everyone knows is the only dictionary worth considering), is something you say to your bro when they are getting out of control, or acting obnoxious. There have been times when I've said this to Jameson, when he's getting ahead of himself, or a coworker, when he's asking too many questions without giving me time to answer. Recently the statement has taken on the new and sassier addition of "butt hole." It just rolls off the tongue, and it's classic Erin. 

I have a coworker who recently started Weight Watchers. He is 55 (ish). He does not work out. A large majority of every day is spent behind his desk. Yet, he has lost 58 POUNDS in only a few short months. Did you read that right? YES - 58 FREAKING POUNDS. Doing nothing but counting points. I love the guy, but every time I see him I say (under my breath), "slow your roll, butt hole." I called him today to compliment him on his tux at a recent black tie event. He laughed and went on to explain that it "hardly fit me, because I've lost so much weight." Ugh. Keep it to yourself, bro.

We all know that there are times when it is SO HARD to be patient. I'm finding myself feeling this way more and more often. You see, when a commitment is made, the follow-through should be immediate, right? I mean, when I decided to lose weight and get in shape, it should happen overnight, to my mind. I've changed my diet, my lifestyle, and my outlook. I work out, I spend all possible hours outside. The pounds should be practically melting away... in theory. Whoever came up with the healthy way of losing only two pounds a week was full of shit. 

Having said all this, folks, I'm starting to think that maybe I'M THE BUTT HOLE. My whining, complaining, self-flagellating behavior is getting old, even to me. My friends were kind enough to cheer me on during a 10-mile gravel ride yesterday, and I told them at one point to SHUT UP. I was only mostly kidding. When they were cheering, I was all like:

Damn it, it's true. I am the butt hole that needs to slow her roll.  

I need to stop making excuses like, I'm just starting, or I'm still too fat, or I'm too old to do this. I need to be patient and let this training happen; let this weight loss just happen. I need to shut my mouth, work hard, and work often, because nothing in this world happens overnight. I need to slow down and just roll...butt hole.

Hills Are Hard

There are all sorts of cliches about climbing hills. I'm sure you've heard most of them. 

"If we all climb together, we could climb the highest hill."
"Life's a climb, but the view is great."
"You can't climb uphill by thinking downhill thoughts."
"There is an uphill for every downhill, and a downhill for every uphill."

And seemingly the most popular hill quote ever, from Nelson Mandela...

"After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb."

Frankly, I'm not really one for motivational sayings. I can do motivational things for others, but like I said above, a lot of this stuff is just cliche. The truth is - CLIMBING UP HILLS IS HARD. Like, a real ball-buster. Bicycling up hills is hard. Just ask this guy. 

I was at the grocery store this weekend and saw a friend who is a fitness guru; someone who trains other people to be healthy. This TINY BAD ASS rode the Barry-Roubaix, the largest gravel road race in the world, on a FAT TIRE bike; a bike that outweighs her by several pounds. Naturally I asked her about biking the hills in Barry County, and how much trouble I was having just getting UP. She told me a story that I'm taking to heart, and sharing with you.

Once upon a time, Tiny Bad Ass was training with another woman to ride the Barry-Roubaix. They were tackling the "Three Sisters," who Barry Countyens know is a killer section of the race that has three huge hills. It's possibly the hardest section of the race, and terrifying to behold. The trainee was finding it impossible to get up these hills, and actually fell several times. (Apparently when you are "clipped in" and lose momentum, you can just topple right over.) Tiny Bad Ass felt completely responsible for this woman's scrapes and bruises, and decided to take a break from training. 

The next time out, the trainee rode alone. When she came to those dreaded hills, she said, "Not this time, bitch." After much struggle, she made it up and over those sisters.

"Not this time, bitch."

In my humble opinion, all those motivational sayings are only empty words coming from posters and calendars, or out of the mouths of people we don't even know. It seems that the most motivation we can offer is that which we give to OURSELVES. I will never have a personal cheering squad, and I know I'm most vulnerable, and more apt to quit, when I'm alone. I'm thinking next time, when I'm failing to get up those hills, I think of the words of that wise and all-knowing sage, and just say, "Not this time, bitch."

My last post, almost exactly two years ago, was about how I was struggling to recover from a slight. I made light of the hurt, brushed off the pain, and poo-poohed my wounded pride. I was flippant by thinking that people who are damaged should "just get over it." Man, I'm such an asshole. 

You see, that's the thing about depression. No matter what successes I may have achieved those years ago, no matter how great I felt after an exercise session, and no matter what good I had done for others, my depression just frickin' pulled me under. And under. I became social. I tried spending more time with my Broads and with other good friends, I started drinking (a lot), but then I just...quit. I was happier laying across my bed, alone in my room, binge watching Netflix, and EATING. 

Nowadays, I still spend time in my room, but a lot less. I get outside, I spend time with dear friends on my own terms, I smell the fresh air, and I laugh. There is so much laughing happening, you guys. If only laughing would burn calories - I'd be like 110 lbs by now.

So here's the reason for my writing you all today. I know you've all heard this before, and I have absolutely no reason to assume that you care, but I am once again walking the line to better health. I'm not doing it for a man (although getting a man would be nice), I'm not doing it for my son (although he would love to have a "skinny" mom), and I'm not doing this for my friends (although they love me, and want me to be healthy). 

I'm doing this for me. Only me this time.

So, I bought a kickass little bike, and I'm training for the Barry Roubaix. I re-joined the gym. I'm counting my calorie intake and making better food choices. More importantly, I'm spending time outside by a fire, in the woods, and flying kites. 

I'm here to kick ass, folks. Watch out.