Balance is important. Events that disrupt a routine can shake up that balance in ways that you may not at first notice.
I work in an office, at a cubicle, 40 hours a week. It is a sedentary job, and does not require much physical activity. I commute to work and mass transit is an easy choice; because in my urban area near Washington, DC, traffic is heavy and driving can be stressful. I chose my condo because it’s close to a Metro bus stop, and an easy 10 minute walk from the bus stop in DC. For several years I’ve been using this bus to get to work and back home.
This guarantees me at least a mile and a half of walking exercise 5 days of the week and is also economical, as it reduces the cost of driving and parking plus wear and tear on my car. I made this my routine, dropped perhaps 30 lbs. over time, felt fit and alert, and saved a good deal of money. I’ve also used the walk after work to get to know the area.
My father had health issues for years, and a serious illness that was in a state of remission for some time. Late in 2017, one of my two sisters let me know that Dad was not doing well and he had told her he was not long for this world. I made a trip to visit my parents that winter, and another toward the end of February of 2018. My father died February 24th, a few days before his 86th birthday, while I was there. I was fortunate to be able to be there with him, my mom and one of my sisters, and to know that he was at peace, facing his death.
During these visits, I also got to know the oldest of my two younger sisters better, as I stayed with her and her husband while I was there. Over the years we had a somewhat tenuous relationship, so it was nice to spend some time and reconnect, even though our connection was surrounded with the sadness of my Dad’s decline. I found that while I was there, I dealt with the sadness by working. My sister and her husband were renovating and moving into a farmhouse they’d bought, so I did what I could to help and be good company.
She cooked meals for all of us and baked bread several times while I was there, and this reminded me that cooking, baking, and love are inextricably connected. Feeding family and friends, especially in times of sorrow, is showing love. Feeding one’s self well with healthy and nutritious food is also an act of love.
When I got back to my condo, I kept up my familiar routine for a little while, taking the bus and walking instead of driving to work, cooking healthy meals, and trying my best to take care of myself in the face of the grief. I wasn’t my typical cheery self, which made the routine that much more important.
My work environment degraded with some tension between coworkers on my team. My team lead took a job in a different department, and I was offered and turned down the chance to take on the team lead role. It was time to move on and the team needed an experienced manager, not one trying out her “training wheels.” I began the new job in July 2018 and shook up my routine by driving to work instead of taking the bus. This change, coupled with the challenges of the new position, really got my mind off my grief. It shook up my healthier routine in a way I didn’t suspect – but that should have been obvious.
In response to my sister’s reminder that food was a symbol of love, I had started re-learning how to bake bread. I explored different techniques and ate my mistakes as well as my successes, learning from the resulting tastes, textures, and esthetic appeal of my bakes. I also started packing on the pounds, quite soon after starting the new position. For months I rationalized that it was because I was baking more and eating what I baked.
This comfortable way of thinking in hindsight was pretty disingenuous. Of course I was putting on weight, because I went straight from 2 miles of walking a day on average to almost zero exercise overnight. Fortunately I had clothing from the last period when I’d gained weight (and for similar reasons, ah the rationalizing mind again) to fall back on, so while I didn’t need to buy a new wardrobe, I was not my best self.
Again I rationalized: “The Metro is closed for construction so I can’t use that as a fallback if the bus is late” is my favorite. There’s absolutely no real reason I couldn’t have taken the bus, and in fact my decision to drive to work was costly. I was paying for parking – albeit with a less expensive monthly pass; I was depriving myself of physical exercise, which was making me fat, less fit, raising my blood pressure and making me tired; I was having sleep disturbances; and I had put one more vehicle on the road in a period when there was more traffic on the roads than usual. Ultimately, the stress of being behind the wheel in DC area traffic was what motivated me to climb out of the rut I’d dug over the past 18 months and start walking again.
The results were immediate: I am sleeping better, losing the weight, and feeling fit with more energy than I had while I was driving myself to work. And still baking and eating lots of bread. Am I still grieving for my Dad? Of course. Only now I have regained my balance a bit, and picking up my walking routine is evidence.
Reason for the picture: My favorite gardening hat is now part of my commuter wardrobe; the sun in DC in our most glorious weather can be intense.
Rust (truly) Never Sleeps 