2015: Moving On

I've been intending to write a retrospective on 2015 for some time, but have struggled to work up any enthusiasm about it. Why? Though off to a rough start, it was far from a crappy year. Overall, it was reasonably balanced between good and bad, and had many lessons to offer. My soulmate and I had finally accomplished our long-term dream of moving to the Seattle area: I should be ecstatic, right? There was much good about last year. So why my reticence to reflect, and great happiness to see the departure of 2015?

I think it starts with trying to define things as either "good" or "bad". The "good" things can be incredibly stressful, and the "bad" can be incredibly bittersweet. When either is a significant life event, it's often so stressful that it's hard to sort out exactly how to feel. I spent most of 2015 puzzling on this, and have concluded that the only possible way to feel is...alive. I feel like I have emerged from a not-unpleasant cave of emotions and turmoil and aimlessness. And while it wasn't totally unpleasant, it wasn't in the least bit gratifying or life-inspiring. It just was part of the typical set of a first-world 50-something life's challenges.

I've been extraordinarily lucky for many, many years. For most of my life, actually. For the most part, gain has outweighed loss. I've been able to merrily go along my way, not sweating the losses because there simply wasn't that much to deal with. Oh sure, the typical nonsense, like failed relationships, lousy jobs, fender-benders, other whatnot, as well as the more important losses that come with living on this planet. Losing dear friends over the years has been hard, but acknowledged as a price to pay for living long enough, and is the only truly crappy thing about getting older.

So what was different about 2015?

Ya know that popular "top ten" list of life's stressors? Those major life events that most of us experience at one time or another? Yeah, that one. Some items on that list are harder than others but, one at a time, can be managed. Not so easy when you blow through half the list in a six-month period – even if they are the least stressful items on the list.

• Unemployment? Check.
• Major move across the country (and lose social network)? Check.
• Death of a loved pet? Check.
• Death of a revered parent? Check.
• New job? Check.
• Run through the wringer by a mortgage company? Check.
• Moving into new (purchased) home? Check.

Whew. Not all bad, not all good. All very stressful. And yes, all first-world problems. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

I wish I could say I handled it all well, and didn't let it throw me into a not-so-great place, but that would be lying. I lived in a weird place of bittersweet: sad but grateful to have experienced such an amazing father; torn between throwing a pity party and realizing how ridiculously lucky I am for so many things; thrilled to be living in the Pacific Northwest but not feeling at home; excited about meeting new people while being socially isolated; equally excited about running and biking in this beautiful place yet not motivated to train.

That bittersweet place enveloped me like a fog. The emotions were a thick, viscous mess that swirled unpredictably (Is this what depression feels like? PMS on steroids?), and sadness (but not pessimism) permeated everything. I knew my father wasn't going to live forever, but had a minimal support system in which to grieve: no routines, no social outlets where I could just forget about it for a while, no distracting job. My Seattle family was wonderful, but what I was feeling was too much to dump on anybody. Paula was extremely patient with me, and we churned through it.

After completely blowing an interview for a job that was mine for the taking (because I'd had a meltdown that morning and was too foolish to reschedule), I decided enough was enough. Time to wrap up the grieving and move into a more positive place: that's what my father would have wanted. Time to apply the weird-ass energy generated by the maelstrom of mixed emotions towards something more productive. Signing up for some runs or triathlons would have been perfect, but I had no income (yet) and those things aren't cheap. Aaargh. What to do?

Well let's think about this. Living in the present is free. Enjoying the company of my mate is free (or close to it, depending what we decide to do with ourselves). Enjoying the year-round green and the glorious sunsets literally steps from my door is free. Getting outside is free. Being optimistic about finding a job is free.

And I got a job! After a 20-minute phone conversation, no less. Funny how that positive thinking stuff works, huh? Still wasn't doing so great about exercising and eating properly (and feeling it – bleah), but hey, at least I could afford to do some things that were good for the soul. Did some races, enjoyed being active around other people, fantasized about getting my running mojo back.

Fast-forward to the Labor Day half-marathon. Ooooh my running shorts are WAY too tight – they've never been this tight. And my thighs are rubbing together. What the hell? And this flat low-key half-marathon is KILLING me. The photos are dreadful. I look like I'm wishing for a technical issue, perhaps a shoe blowout or massive bout of diarrhea, so I can quit. OK that's it. No more.

Found a great CrossFit gym (where they are all about finding workarounds and aren't a bunch of meatheads), bought a good rowing machine and used it, and started forcing myself to do short, pathetic walks/trots/jogs several times a week, hating every minute and loathing my pathetic-ness. After a couple of months, CrossFit got easier and a lot less exhausting. Rowing became less torturous. Running still sucked, but hey, one thing at a time.

Finally, sometime in December, I ran 5 miles, and IT DIDN'T SUCK. OMG. It actually felt good. How is that possible? Thank gawd. I was beginning to worry how much longer it was going to take to find that errant mojo. I'm still not getting on the bike trainer, but it's set up and ready to go. That'll happen...not sure when, but soon. CrossFit is now my run warmup: go to CrossFit, then go run a minimum of three miles. When not preceded by CrossFit, run at least five miles. And while I'm still not at pre-2015 running pace, I'm getting closer all the time. The heart rate isn't maxing out anymore. It. Feels. Good.

So. I head into 2016 in a much more positive space, even though some things are still seriously lacking. I still need to make friends here (but I now have a plan), I still need to get my butt back on the bike saddle, still need to do more exploring of trails, still need to improve the eating habits (sigh), but...it'll happen. Meanwhile, I'm still absorbing the many more lessons of the past year, from a much healthier place.

It's all good. 2015, you can suck it. 2016, let's go kick some ass.