So, G.G. said something brilliant and worth repeating yesterday:
It’s not about how hard you can hit,
it’s about how hard you can get hit
(and keep moving forward).
Of course I had to Google to find out where the quote came from. It sounded familiar, I knew I'd heard it before, I recognized the inspirational quality of it. The older I get, the more relevant this thought, these words, are.
So who said it? Whoever wrote the script for Rocky Balboa. And that would be Sly, himself, Sylvester Stallone.
I loved the first Rocky movie, and apparently a lot of critics did, too, as it won the Academy Award for Best Picture in 1976. The sequels were entertaining, but just didn't have the same inspirational quality (for me) as the first one did.
Or the last.
I was training for that very first half-marathon when Rocky Balboa was released, and I was the only person I knew who wanted to see it. So I went by myself. I don't know if watching the movie translated into stronger training sessions, but I kept a picture of Rocky on the refrigerator for about six months, from before I started training until the race was done.
I could use a little Rocky now. This is the time of year, both chronologically and mentally, when burrowing into a vat of sugar sounds like an excellent idea. Winter's still gasping its last gasp (let's hope it's the last!): weather advisories still flood the inbox, snow still coats the driveway, temperatures remain at or below freezing.
No matter how hard or how many times the weather or my mood or outside circumstances "hit" me, I've been able to keep moving. Yesterday morning was a particularly stressful one (for reasons I won't go into here), and all I had to look forward to in the afternoon was working out. It was cold – 25 degrees (which, I know, isn't cold if you're in Wisconsin or Canada or Iceland) – and my plan was to use the elliptical. I bought it just for days like yesterday.
But it wasn't windy, and I always feel better when I can walk outdoors. I bundled up and headed out for yet another five-miler. The time it took brought me up to the 60 minutes/day average (one of my goals for the month), and the effort was just what my mental state needed in order to survive the next blow.
Because there's always a next blow.
Food has been pretty good lately, and last night was exceptional. I've been hungry for quiche, so I made one with low-fat cheese, skim milk, lean ham, mushrooms and chopped beet greens. Alongside was the very last butternut from the garden. Hard to believe it lasted this long!
I served it "naked" – no brown sugar, no butter, no nuts, not even salt and pepper. Yum.
As for winter, I guess technically we have a few more weeks of it. Before my dad died last fall, my husband and I had planned to spend a couple months visiting him in Florida this year. Now that he's gone, neither of us feels like making the effort. (It's not that we're not worth it, it's just that we both think it would be hard to be there without him.) I'm spending a long weekend at the beach later this month, a gift from my son and his family. Late February might be the perfect time to go to the beach – I won't be required to wear a swimsuit, and I'll get lots of time outdoors.
Anyway, I'm rambling. I'd be on overtime by now if I were talking to a shrink! If you made it this far, send me a bill. Heh.