Some days, I’m not that fragile. I’m tough.

Other days, I know better, but I struggle. I’m not one for pity-parties. But sometimes, you know, damn, it’s hard.

Pity-parties always make things worse. I end up mad at myself for allowing negative feelings into my thoughts. So mad that I force myself to start listening to annoying positive attitude audio-books, rolling my eyes the whole time, only to find out after a few days that they actually did help.

This has been my cycle ever since the break. The break that eventually led to the break up.

Time has passed and I am starting to feel like myself again. All that forced positive energy has paid off. I have actually been willing good things to come to me. I know this sounds a little hokey, but I believe I have! Work has been going great. I love what I do. I have the best clientele a business owner could ever ask for and recent momentum has become thank-the-lord contagious.

Outside of work I’ve picked up a new hobby, or rather, a new hobby picked me up.

It’s really a funny story. I was working out at the gym when an incredibly fit older man approached me. The first thing he told me, after getting me to take out my ear buds, was that he was not hitting on me, that he was 65 and knew he didn’t stand a chance, but just had to ask  if I’ve ever considered bodybuilding. Of course my answer was a mystified “um, no.” But I continued to hear him out.

I am now in my third week of training.

I’m no stranger to the gym. I dated a personal trainer for two years, but I have never been this sore in my life! There is a huge difference between working out and training for a competition. I work out four times a week with the man I lovingly call Coach. He pushes me, encourages me, mentors me, and has become my over-protective gym dad. He is constantly telling me that every man in the place is not good enough and what his version of good enough looks like.

He cracks me up.

My first competition will most likely be sometime late this fall where I will be entering into a figure (not bodybuilding) competition. Coach is convinced I will be ready by then if I continue to train as hard as I have been.

It’s crazy, but this training, these aching muscles all over my body, it has all contributed to making me feel alive again. I can’t raise my arms all the way above my head, and sometimes I look like a zombie when I walk because of stiff muscles, but I have never felt so tough.

I’ve realized that it’s not just sometimes that I’m not that fragile, I am always not that fragile.

My sister Staci posted this on my Facebook wall.

Right now, I finally believe it.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Coach, Reinventing Summer

Some of you may remember that last year, for my very first backpacking adventure ever, I decided to take on the Grand Canyon. It was one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced. If you’d like to read about it, it took me three lengthy posts to document it.

The Decent

The Bottom

The Ascent

This year, when my hiking group’s fearless leader, Roger, managed to get another five day permit and asked me if I’d like to participate again, I did not hesitate to say yes!

Cute was also extended an invitation and came along with me this year. I am very glad he did. Not just for his company, but the great help he was to me. My knees have steadily been getting worse and worse. I don’t know what’s wrong with them, I haven’t been to a doctor, but they hurt – especially when I hike downhill. The first two days of the Rim to Rim Grand Canyon hike are spent going straight down. I knew I would struggle, but I had no idea how bad. On the second day of hiking downhill my knees left me practically limping down the trail. Cute ended up taking the majority of the weight from my pack to help ease the strain. Which resulted in my pack weighing a mere 16 lbs, while his was around 56 lbs! I can’t begin to explain how much this helped me and how grateful I was, and still am, to him.

When we reached Phantom Ranch after that second day, I think it’s safe to say we were both exhausted but relieved to know that we would have a full day to recuperate in the cool stream before beginning the ascent back out of the canyon.

When the morning rolled around to begin the second leg of our journey, the one that would lead us back out of the canyon, I felt rested and thrilled to be hiking uphill. My knees do well uphill. It’s the strangest thing!

One of the most magical parts of the Grand Canyon for our hiking group has always been Plateau Point. Plateau Point is an overlook point about a mile and a half outside of our last campsite, Indian Gardens. Overlook doesn’t do it justice. It is the point where you are finally able to grasp the magnitude of just how enormous the Grand Canyon is as well as how insignificant you are in comparison. It is possibly the most spiritual place I can envision existing, ever. From this vantage point you can see the canyon in the most delicious of ways. Laid out before you is the entire journey, from where we started to where we still needed to go. It’s simply amazing. We eat dinner at this point each year. But this year, almost on cue, as we are eating our dinner and enjoying the breath taking views, two Condors swooped past and gave us a show. I couldn’t believe it. There are only around 200 wild Condors in existence and we got to see two of them. Hollywood couldn’t have timed their appearance any better.

Since this was my second time at Plateau Point I knew what to expect. I told Cute I wanted to stay out there and watch the sunset then hike back to camp using our headlamps, but I was not the only one with this idea. While Cute and I sat watching the sunset, behind us a proposal of two of our fellow hikers was taking place. Randy proposed to Breeanna. It was so sweet. We quickly congratulated them and left them enjoy their moment without us there.

The last day in the Grand Canyon we get up before the sun to tear down camp and start on the steep hike out before the heat of the day makes it unbearable. The canyon is so beautiful at this time. Watching the rim slowly light up and darkness slip away is poetic. The darkness before the dawn.

Hiking out is cathartic. As you climb out the view of where you have been becomes more and more clear. The magnitude of what you were a part of is intoxicating. I love the hike out. I am always sad to be leaving but so incredibly proud of myself for completing it and finishing strong.

Once our group reaches the top we always take a group photo and eat an amazing breakfast together (one that doesn’t consist of freeze dried food!). This year my parents met us at the South Rim and were there to take our group photo.

I would like to say a loud, public, “THANK YOU!” to our group lead, and my good friend, Roger Green. He is the sole reason we were able to do this trip. He puts in for the permits, plans the trip, organizes us, and makes sure we are all safe. I love him dearly and am so grateful to him for allowing me to experience the Grand Canyon, twice! When I was saying my goodbye to him at the South Rim he informed me that this trip was going to be his last Rim to Rim Grand Canyon trip. I am so happy to have been on it with him and proud to know this strong man.

To see more pictures from my trip, including pictures of the “elusive” Grand Canyon Pink Rattle snake (we saw TWO of them!) and me being the nerd that I am, check out my Flickr page.

Also, a special “Thank you” to my parents for driving to the South Rim to pick Cute and me up, take us to Bryce National Park, stay in a seedy hotel, watch the solar eclipse, and drive all night to get back home in time to work the next day. You guys are the best!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Cute, Grand Canyon 2012, Hiking

(A happy little ditty I wrote over Memorial Day weekend. I debated whether or not to post, but ultimately this is my feelings and they need to come out.)

I keep checking my phone. There’s no messages, no missed calls. I think about texting him about a hundred times a day. But, I have no idea what I’d say. Besides, what good is a break if you are always talking? Wouldn’t that defeat the point?

I’m living in my sister’s room. My sister who lives with my parents. I bought a small clothes rack to hang a weeks worth of clothes. She cleared a drawer for me to place my non-hangable garments. Once again, my baby sister is taking care of her heartbroken sister. She’s become quite good at it I must say.

It’s the weekend. A holiday weekend no less. Instead of spending it barbequing and drinking with friends, I am spending it realizing how few friends I really do have.

When he told me he needed a break, just some time to figure out what he really wants, I cried. Then we did laundry. Then I pulled out two suitcases. I laid them both wide open on our bare mattress and stared at them and cried some more. What was I to pack for a break? The songs lyrics to a Dar Williams song came flowing into my head, “you can take anything you want.” As I stood there crying into my empty suitcases he came up behind me and hugged me. This only made me cry harder. He made me sit on his lap and said that everything was probably going to be just fine. Between sobs I told him that it wouldn’t be. A break is just the first step in a break up. He told me that I didn’t know that.

But I do.

My beautiful, sweet, clueless man. Old enough that you would expect him to know what he wants out of life. But that expectation would be wrong.

So here I am.

Planless.

Is there a chance that we will have the hollywood love story? You know, where he will realize that he can’t live without me, comes to me with flowers, a ring, and clarity of what he really wants,? I’m not holding my breath. I simply can’t afford to. My heart can’t take the disappointment that luxury of thought would entail. Instead I am trying to figure out what I will do if we don’t work out because that’s something I can control. It’s the only thing I can control. I hate that the power is in his hands. He is controlling the length of the break. He is controlling his decision. But even though I hate it, I have to honor his request for time.

God this sucks.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Cute, Living with the rents, NOT light and fluffy, TMI Friday