Eda's World

I was wigging out recently about tough mudder. I can't even run a full mile yet. I almost killled myself walking everywhere in Catalina. How the hell am I going to survive 10-12 miles of hell? I was really chewing on my fear. Then I heard a voice in my head tell me "Bullshit, Eda. Commit. That is all you have to do. You grew up in some of the most sun-blasted dangerous backwoods in the world. You can walk anything. Commit is all you have to do. Commit to finishing." I remember hearing that in my head a few years ago when I went with my friends Pete and Josh to Joshua Tree. I was doing things that scared nine kinds of shit out of me. I still hadn't fully grasped all the physical changes I had undergone since my surgery. I didn't know how to use the body I now had. Josh walked me through a lot of things pulling me along, yelling at me when he needed. We went bouldering together. Pete kept catting up different rocks, leaping and climbing, Josh lagged behind to pull m...

Wow, what a long weekend. It was good. informative. And OMG I cannot sit still for 8 hours. I was a total munchasaurus the first day. Blegh. It was hard to focus on constant power points and hands-on work. Real eye-opener how much I need to return to yoga. I've lost my inner mute button. And BELIEVE me I need one. I've had enough therapy to know the inside of most people's heads are a constant battlegrounds of ID, anima/us and ego. So I don't feel alone in admitting my internal dialogue is a bit chaotic and rude. My inner Jiminy Cricket is more of a tacky trucker than Mother Teresa. My workout crew knows a bit more of my unexpurgated personality. I can't filter when I'm working out hard. I think that is why I love them so much. They love dark Eda. I can snarl and snort all that I want, and they mostly laugh. They get my sense of humor, my cynical anger doesn't throw them for a second, if anything they are just as sharp and terse as I am. I am working on rele...