I'm bored with my blog. It's not so much the blog itself that I am in current dislike with but the whole concept behind mine -- in that there isn't one.
Basically, I've just been using my blog as a platform to communicate my happenings in an effort to provide my family and friends a bit more insight into that which is my life. But, I find this tactic rather mundane for the most part and I suspect those who regularly read (or happen to stumble upon) my blog share in my sentiment.
So, where do the current feelings for my blog stem? Well, for starters and as previously mentioned, I'm lacking a theme, something to inspire me and provide ideas as well as to tie it all together. And then there's the part where I love, love, love WordPress, but my blog is currently a Blogspot. But, if I do the big changeover, I'll lose all my current content. *sigh*
What to do? I could just scrap the blog altogether and not have to worry about it. But, truth be told, I do enjoy the creative outlet the blog inspires, much different from my daily corporate writing style. I could conduct a major brainstorming session and develop some new and exciting theme that does not yet exist in the blogosphere (not likely). Or, I could just cut my losses, move my existing blog to Wordpress, continue in my current ways of blogging and deal with the fact that my blog has no theme.
The one thing I do know is that it that despite a few lingering clouds, the sun is managing to make an appearance this afternoon so I'm heading out to soak up some Vitamin D via a trail run. I'll let the whole blog dilemma stew for a bit and hopefully a solution will transpire. In the meantime, any thoughts or suggestions are appreciated.
Tomorrow marks the two year anniversary of my residence at 1451 24th St., a milestone that wouldn't exactly be of earth-shattering significance to most. However, for this former nomad, calling one address home for 24 consecutive months is a pretty big deal considering it's the first time I've done so since I moved out of my childhood home at the age of 18. In fact, prior to my current place, and with the exception of the aforementioned parents' place, my longest stint at one location came in at just under 12 months.
For someone who only moved once as a child -- and just to a new house within the same town -- packing up all my belongings every 10 or 11 months wasn't exactly the most natural instinct. However, the practice became a necessity during my college days and it kind of just stuck with me for the six subsequent years. And, even when my post-AmeriCorps plan brought me to Denver in 2007, I wasn't thoroughly convinced I would be here for more than a few years. But, here I am nearly four years (and 5 addresses) later.
The magnitude of the continuation of my current address lies not as much in the physical aspect as it does in the mental. There have been a number of instances during my time in Colorado that I have fought the urge to leave -- to run when I had a bad day or yet another guy turned out not to be the one or I missed my family.
I have found that most of the time the urge to run has little to do with life's circumstances and more with me and my feelings. And, as we are all well aware, moving to a new address or even a new state will not allow us to run from our feelings and ourselves.
To say my urge to run has dissipated would not be entirely true. There are definitely still moments, days and even weeks when I struggle. But, instead of making a rash, emotionally-charged decision when life doesn't play out exactly as I desired, I sit with my feelings. I allow myself to feel, to process, and I listen. Instead of giving into what at the time may seem like the easy way out, I stayed. Instead of giving up and running somewhere new or to somewhere more familiar, I stayed. And that -- the learning to stay with my thoughts and feelings, no matter how challenging -- has made all the difference.
Somewhere in the last few years, I've let running slide. To say I gave it up entirely wouldn't be quite accurate. But, I've gone from pounding out around 25-30 miles a week to my current state -- which is not exactly something to write home about.
Running is something that has been a part of my life since my teens, and, while it lacks the status of a daily (or, in some periods, even weekly) routine, there is only one time in my life that I recall its absence. Sure, there have been lulls and, in the playbill of my life it would be considered more of an supporting role than the star. I don't mean to imply that I'm the best runner, but it's important to me and I've accomplished some pretty great milestones doing so -- including recently completing my first half-marathon.
So, if this thing is such a substantial part of who I am, how is it I can just let it fall by the wayside? How can I nix the waxing and waning pattern I've allowed to take place?
Nearly four years ago, I moved to Denver and brought along a lot of extra weight. In fact, the summer of 2007 marked my highest weight ever. After settling in for a few months and getting a job, I decided it was time to shed the extra pounds I had gained during a serious bout of depression in 2005. To accomplish my goal, I joined Weight Watchers and eventually, started running again. Although I did work out pretty consistently during the year I lived in Delaware (pre-Denver), it mostly involved the elliptical machine and walks around Newark. Needless to say, it took some time to work back up to a place where I could run for an extended period of time.
But, by the winter of 2009, I was a running machine. In fact, I was logging more miles at faster speeds than any other time in my life. And, while I had lost a lot of weight the fact that I still hadn't hit my "goal weight," didn't seem to bother me when I was marking down my running stats for the week. I was in great shape and I felt really, really good. Then, something happened -- I began running less -- and less. And then one day, I wasn't really running anymore. Sure, I would fit in an occasional run, here and there, but the glory days of 45 minutes at 6.0 mph were gone. To say I was/am discouraged would be an understatement.
So, here I am -- trying to get back to it. This morning I logged 3.3 miles and it felt great. I took it slow and although I pined for the days when I could have done nearly twice that amount in the time it took, it still felt pretty damn great when I was through. The most encouraging aspect is that I know I can get back to where I was because I've been there before. I just have to be patient, cut myself some slack once in awhile and take it one mile at a time.