Routine (again...always routine)

I had a discussion with Jen the other day about how working out helps with anxiety and depression. I couldn't agree more. When I got home from a weekend of eating, drinking, and being merry in Pennsylvania (and not a single workout in sight), it was a little rough to get back into the routine. Day two of being back, eating right, exercising, and sleeping right, and I found myself standing at the kitchen sink with a protein shake in my hand, grinning like an idiot. I was so happy to be back to my routine that I actually chuckled to myself.

I've been asked why I push myself so hard, and until that moment, never really had a completely clear answer. Yes, of course I like to see how fast a runner I can become, how strong I can become, and how much I can appreciate what my body is capable of, and yes- how my body looks too. But more than that, I am far more happy and less stressed when I am working out regularly and eating right. It means the difference between a complete breakdown and just being able to push through the stressful situations.

It absolutely sucks trying to get myself out the door for a workout. Two years ago, Jen watched me lace up my running shoes while whining about not wanting to go.

"But you're still lacing up your shoes" she pointed out.

Yes. Yes I was. Because of routine. I know I've said it a hundred times, but routine is absolutely amazing. Routine gets me out the door a thousand times more than motivation does. In the morning the only motivation I have is to get myself a cup of coffee and bring it back to bed.

This morning I whimpered and whined while getting dressed to go run. I tried not to remind myself that it was going to be a hard run. One mile warm up, 6 one mile repeats with a minute rest in between, aiming for 7:15 each, then a mile cool down. Eight miles total, 6 of them at 80-90% effort.

I got changed and went through my plank routine. Five minutes straight with no rest: two minutes regular plank, one minute on each side, and one minute supine plank. I did my dynamic stretch routine and set my Garmin in the window to collect satellites. It beeped and vibrated on the windowsill to tell me it was time to go. I grumbled as I wrapped it around my wrist, grabbed my water bottle and headed out the door.

As I ran past Sam's BBQ and smelled the meat in the smoker, I wondered why on earth I run. My stride felt off and my water bottle felt heavy. The first few repeats were miserable, but then I turned and headed home. I realized how hard it is to stress about your thesis and looming internship that you feel entirely unprepared for when you feel like you can't even catch your breath.

By the way, nothing makes you appreciate breathing more than having experienced not being able to breathe. It didn't get that bad today, but I've been there. It is allergy season, however, and breathing is sorta miserable, even doped up on all my allergy meds, sprays and inhalers and such. What thesis? What computer code? Side cramps and wheezing will cure those ills any day.

Steve Prefontaine once said "Don't let fatigue make a coward of you". I'm not certain that Pre ever ran a marathon, but that's not the point. He was a bold runner who ran the mile in 3:54.6, as well as six miles in 26 minutes. Among other things. 26 minutes! I can run a little over three miles in that time. Geezo.

I pushed a little harder my last couple of repeats, enjoyed my 1 mile cool down, drank some water, drank my protein shake, showered and got some thesis stuff accomplished.

Without my routine, I would probably curl up on the floor and cry- buried under the weight of my to-do list. Frustration would get the best of me. But pushing through physical discomfort and lack of motivation has spilled benefits over into my non-athletic aspects of life. Finals week is like the last 5 miles of a marathon when you feel like you can't go on any longer, but you keep going simply because you are not done. Stress of being overwhelmed in everyday life is like the first 5 miles of a marathon, when you realized what you've just signed up for and how much further you have to go. Burdens are like the squat bar when you unrack it and feel the weight on your shoulders and through your spine and you realize as you squat down until your butt nearly touches the floor, that somehow...you're going to have to gather the strength to stand back up.

And as you lift heavier weights, and run faster repeats, and run longer miles or steeper hills, you also carry heavier burdens with less fatigue, take on greater challenges in school and life, ace that exam, nail the job interview. All because you learned how to push when you really didn't want to.

Mountains

"Alright Carrie, let's do this" I whisper to myself as I climb out of bed in the darkness.

I'm not going to the gym today, and that's alright.

I've had a panicked feeling inside my gut for two weeks now, and although I should be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it's long gone. I'm looking for breathing room but feel like I've forgotten how to breathe.

Like being buried by everything.

I don't remember if I'm on my first cup of coffee or my second, but I decide I'm having oatmeal with strawberries for breakfast. I'll pull my hair into a ponytail, put my contacts in, and write the lab report for the field campaign. That's due today.

Last night I hardly slept. I dreamed I had to keep altering variables in the computer code for my take-home final that was due yesterday, and my program wouldn't work. It was several hours before I was able to fall back to sleep- held captive by my anxious brain that would not let go of the seemingly impossible tasks ahead of me. Every day is a mountain I can't see past, and the map tells me it's only going to get harder.

I'm reminded of hiking mountains with my hotshot crew, fatigue and heat threatening to do me in as I stared down at the hot, dry dirt beneath my feet. And I just put one boot in front of the other, head down, never giving in. No matter how painful, no matter how slow, no matter how much I wanted to quit. Always forward.

Subcritical to Supercritical Flow (or how I made it through grad school).

Usually I write when I'm supposed to be doing homework or studying. Right now I'm supposed to be sleeping, but two guys just knocked on my door trying to sell me eternal life and my advisor just texted me trying to sell me a PhD.

We're in the throes of finals week and I'm just pushing on through the best I can. I've already ruled out doing laundry until after I get my paper and take-home- final done that are due tomorrow night. I also ruled out showering, but I had a presentation today and my hair hadn't been washed in who knows how long, so I eased up on that one. I also had ruled out grocery shopping until this weekend but my refrigerator was empty so I slackened that one as well.

The presentation was on a computer model simulation that I've been fighting with for awhile. I had to plot the data from this model in a foreign computer language (much like trying to write a report in a language you don't know) and it's been a highly stressful couple of weeks. I've been staying at the lab until nearly 9 pm, which is not only late for me, but it's also when the weirdos come out.

The weirdos also come out during finals week for whatever reason. Yesterday University Police sent out texts and emails to alert us of a possible man walking around with a shot gun. It was a couple streets over from my building and I work on the 8th floor where you need two special keys to get in. Later they texted to tell us they located the suspect and that the report was unfounded.

I don't like leaving campus in the dark.

But I've had this presentation due (and the paper for it due tomorrow which is currently only half done) and was still making plots last night. As a matter of fact, I was still making plots this morning. I skipped the gym, took a shower, and headed off to the lab. I finished writing the presentation ten minutes before I had to present. It went fairly well considering I had absolutely no practice with it.

Afterwards a few of us hung out talking, dispersing some of the stress that has been building up. Then a few of us headed up to the lab to start writing our papers. Every ten minutes or so, someone would call out the number of words their paper consisted of, and the rest of us would follow suit with our updates. It was slow going.

The girls left early and I stayed a little later to get more work done. I got distracted with processing more data to make more plots. This will actually be a section of my thesis, so the analysis will go on through the summer.... but this paper needs to be in tomorrow night by midnight. So I need to stop analyzing the data and just present what I've got.

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to intern with a company down in San Diego this summer that could possibly set me up for something long term... which means I will have made it. I may even move down as soon as next spring, finish writing my thesis down there, and then come back and defend in May.

This fall I'll be taking two classes, researching and writing for my thesis, processing data for NASA, and possibly continuing to work on projects for this company in San Diego. It's going to be a little rough. But worth it.

I left the lab early today to get some groceries (7:30, which is normally when I'm getting ready for bed) and also grabbed a bottle of Jameson for my desk at the lab. Then I realized I also will need something to drink it out of, since all I have at the lab is a coffee cup. I stopped by Marshalls and scored a stemless plastic wine glass with a seahorse faux-etched in it for $2 (not for the whiskey, but for any wine I might also drink there) and a small Pyrex beaker.  Being a grad student is a little rough, you gotta be prepared. Today one of the undergrads discovered a hidden stash of beer in one of the classrooms...which belongs to another undergrad. I've heard about that stash.

I really love the idea of drinking whiskey out of a Pyrex beaker (being a scientist and all) but am also a little wary because it will be on or in my desk that is situated in an actual lab that does indeed have a beaker or two lying around that should probably not be used for drinking. Maybe I'll hide it in my desk when it's not in use.

I went home with all my goodies, washed half the dishes, ate, and started getting ready for bed. I heard a knock on the door. Victor and Juan were offering me eternal life. I told them I was Buddhist. Victor reiterated eternal life, and I shook my head and thanked him and told him it didn't exist. "It's free!" He insisted. I turned him down again and they moved to the next door.

Brushing my teeth, I heard a text come in. Probably one of the many friends and family I have been ignoring this week in an effort to magically make plots and presentations and papers appear. I've neglected a lot of things. Cleanliness is one of them. So is speaking to people.

I checked my message. It was my advisor, who has not sent me a text message in over a year, asking how the presentation went (he's very excited about my data). I told him it went well minus all the "ums" and going over time and now was halfway through the paper.

"What paper?" He asked. And then, "You should go to UCSB for a PhD".

"The presentation was just part of it. There's a paper that goes with it."

"Really" Really you should get your PhD? Or Really, you have to write a paper?

So as any good grad student would, I responded: "Lol. Um. Have you been drinking?"

"Of course, but that's not why I think so. Omg....so cool people. Btw, your sims look similar to Sundowner WRF sims from student here. Get that paper done. We can talk later. Just planting the seed."

I started to respond with the other plots I had made up today, along with the ones I planned to do as soon as I get all my stuff done that's due tomorrow, along with the take-home-final for another class that's due on Tuesday, and the three lab reports (complete with computer programming) that are all due by Wednesday. I erased it and sent "Ok."

In science, you have to get to everything before someone else does. I have to publish my findings before someone else does. Data needs to be analyzed, papers need to be read, papers need to be written. On top of all the other things I need to get done.

The prospect of finishing next spring and having a job lined up in San Diego has been driving me through this week. I feel like it's all coming together.

Or.....I could just keep going. Get my PhD.

But what for? Indeed...what for. For the research. I know why he thinks I should get my PhD. Because I ran a model simulation of a case study and it produced interesting results, and it interested me and it's super awesome! Yes, science is cool. Research is cool (kinda). But for crying out loud. I'm staring so hard at that light at the end of the tunnel that my eyes are starting to burn. I'm getting impatient and restless and am more than ready to move down to San Diego and have whatever might resemble a normal life (or, you know, not).

So tomorrow while I am typing away at my desk trying to get that paper done and my take-home-exam done, my advisor will walk in and try to sell me on a PhD. But I will be armed with whiskey and a Pyrex beaker. I will be listening to Elle King Radio on Pandora, kicking ass and taking names in computer code, trying to figure out what paper that was I read that mentioned Froude numbers and mountain height, transitions from subcritical to supercritical flow, and dreaming about having a beer at Point Loma Seafoods with my breaded scallops and french fries while I stare off into the harbor and try not to get a sunburn.

Morning People

I'm sitting in my car in the Target parking lot, Googling the statistics on morning people in the world. Being a morning person myself, I was feeling like the world was not catering well to people like me.

I planned my morning inefficiently. I was up at 5 am (without an alarm), made my bed, washed dishes, had breakfast, cleaned out my car, stopped for gas on the way to the grocery store, and still got there 5 minutes before the 7 am opening. The problem was my next stop was Target (across the street) that didn't open until 8 am. And there was no way I was spending an hour in the grocery store. I was lucky to milk 15 minutes out of it. I had already scrapped the Vitamin Shoppe errand since it doesn't open until 11 am.

I went to Pete's Coffee (opens at 6 am on Sundays) and did a lot of sitting in my car. I moved across the street to Target and sat in my car even more, which brought me to Google.

Why aren't more places open at 6 am on Sundays?

Research has found that the majority of older adults are morning people, while the majority of young adults (and certainly teens) are evening people. I've been a morning person my entire life so I may never know the difference.

It turns out morning people are generally more happy than evening people, but that may be due to having to live in a "morning oriented" world. Research points out that during the work week, people are expected to get up early to get to work and actually function once they're there. I see how this could kill your vibe if that wasn't natural for you. I'm grumpy if forced to stay awake past 9:30 pm.

So I suppose it's okay if I'm inconvenienced occasionally by a world that's slow to get started since I'm also blessed to be able to easily handle early morning flights, classes, work schedules, and race starts.

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Target finally opened and I got my errands done.

Had second breakfast at 9 am.