Can’t nobody break my stride

31 Mar

If momentum isn’t glossy, I don’t know what is.  I had a conversation about momentum with a dear friend of mine recently. I hadn’t given it much thought. I’d been feeling stagnant recently, and I asked him how he keeps up with his hectic creative life, making music and teaching and recording and blogging and he said, “momentum.” If you can finish one thing, it will get the ball rolling on the next thing. Hmmm…yes. I think that theory manifested today.

I woke up this morning at 7:00.  Actually I woke up at 6:55, five minutes before my alarm went off.  What?! A moonlighter by trade, I normally roll out of bed around noon.  But today we were going skiing.  A full day on the slopes.  A last hurrah for winter and a full on welcoming of spring.  70 degrees and a mountain of snow.  The sluts were so happy to be skiing in booty shorts.  (I opted for a classier Mary Kate and Ashley bag lady  ensemble complete with boyfriend socks and oversized gloves).  

We got to the slopes around ten.  We skiied until 4:30.  I had zero caffeine, ate applesauce and french fries for lunch, yet I felt amazingly energized.  Maybe it was the mountain sun, or the fantastic company.  Skiing was a nice little workout, but I felt like I needed even more of a burn.  When I got home, I convinced by boyfriend to go on a bike ride.  What?!  Exercise followed by exercise?  We biked to get cupcakes, but I got peppermint tea.  What?! No cupcakes?!  Yup, my body is being temporarily inhabited by a desperate housewife.  Or the offspring of a Jillian Michaels/Moby fling.  Instead of going home, after confessing that I was still craving to feel that burn that comes from  8 miles of strenuous hiking, my boyfriend convinced me to bike up the steepest hill in our part of town, which is no joke since we live in hilly/mountainous Seattle.  I consented so easily.  What?!  I’m a newbie biker.  Where did all this cockiness come from?  
In the middle of kicking that hill’s ass (slowly, er, patiently – in granny gear), I started to feel that rush of adrenaline, that complete confidence that comes with kicking ass.  But only a taste, not the full meal, just the calm, calm high.  When we got home, I still needed more.  The addiction was rising. I did about an hour’s worth of Beyonce yoga (listening to Beyonce radio or The Voice UK while doing yoga/dancing/making random movements that may or may not pass for yoga or dancing).  And then I made cookies.  And I only ate half of one!  Not just because they were terrible and dry and almost sugarless, but because I got distracted by the burning need to do a headstand.  Which I mastered.  And pushups.  I did 10 all night, which is impressive considering my arms are made of string beans and glossy magazines.  And then…I needed more.  Junkie.  Junkie!!!  I was rolling into my high.  Momentum was rolling fast.

I took over the dishes.  My boyfriend was washing them, mostly the mountain that I’d created, but he was moving so slow and it was killing me so I took over.  I needed to move my hands.  I was moving fast, being careless, and I turned the kitchen into a tornado.  And now he knows why the counter next to the sink is constantly wet.  I though it was normal.  I guess not. 

12:30 am.  I wasn’t hardly finished. I lit some candles, changed into a sequined top, and threw myself a dance party in the mudroom (bf crashed out and I needed a good space to rock out).   Beyonce, salsa, kesha, Katy Perry, Phantogram, No Diggity, Aretha, etc.  An hour’s worth of hard-core dancing.  Not Kevin Bacon style because I don’t have an industrial warehouse and I am so far from the 80’s dance movie calibre.    And still, I am considering going for a run around the block.  But that probably wont happen because I am kind of afraid of the boogeyman and not even epic Saturday momentum can make me run fast.  I am not tired yet.  The momentum is turning pink and it is sparkling and I need more!  I feel like I am on a really good drug.  It’s possible.  I could have been drugged. I haven’t felt this energetic since the days when Britney was shaving her head and flashing the world her tidbits (ooh, maybe this is a premonition- I feel like she’s getting close to the edge of too crazy).

There’s a few more possibilities:
1. My diet.  In an attempt to eradicate my allergies,  I have cut out everything that I love.  Dairy, wheat, alcohol, coffee, sugar, and everything full of delicious.  It’s terrible and wonderful and tortuous and gratifying and probably maybe a little bit worth it.  
2. The X-Files.  Someone/something else is taking over my body. Aliens, The Energizer Bunny, the FBI…
3. Crack laced kombucha.  It always tastes funny, so it would be easy to sneak a little something in that living, bubbly, jellyfish granola beverage that I strangely and reluctantly love. 
4. Borrowed confidence.  I went skiing with two brand new snowboarders today.  They killed it.  Full of confidence, tenacity, undaunted, no hesitations.   No stop and all go.  I think it rubbed off.  I think it’s contagious.  
5. I might also be trying to keep up with my boyfriend.  He rode 60 miles on his bike and went skateboarding and finished the day with a run like it was a breeze.  The competition is rising.  I need to win.  I must win.  I will win.  
6. Luck and momentum.  I’ve been slowly starting to get up earlier, go for more bike rides, cook more, dance regularly again, and be a better person in general.  Bit by bit, it just might be starting to work.  It feels glossy.  It’s been far, far, far too long.  
7.  This might also just be a dream.  

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