By VIRGINIA WINDER
It hit me like a flash flood and disappeared with the same speed.
Yep, got whacked by the flu or some other virus that had all the symptoms of influenza.
Not going to go into them all because I'll sound like an old moaner and anyway, I'm good now. Apart from a slow-drip nose.
Got back into the exercise last week with a Desperate Housewives bike ride. Watched the first half of the final-ever double episode on the wind trainer, sweating and crying (just a bit) at the same time.
Also went to Pilates again and discovered more of my inner core.
Mindfulness at the hospital went well too.
Strangely, I can now spend time without 1000 thoughts racing through my head like some action movie on fast forward. In fact, by focusing on my breath, I can think absolutely nothing. It's like having one of those thought bubbles in my head with nothing in it.
This whole peaceful way of being is an unfamiliar feeling for me. It's weird, but good, not seesawing through my days. I must admit I miss the euphoria but not the dungeons.
Feel like I've been given a fresh page to write on; one I can fill with whatever I want to, rather than a mad scribble of thoughts.
I choose to fill my daily diar ywith exercise, creative writing, art and and a whole lot more. For now, I'll just focus on fitness and creativity.
This week I plan to go to Pilates, go for three long walk-runs (Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday), two bike rides (either inside or out) (Wednesday and Sunday) and two swims (Friday and Sunday).
Tuesday night is Waxing Lyrical on The Most 100.4FM. On my 7-8pm show, I play songs with great words. It's a wonderful time to get lost in music and hang out with the Kiwiana host. His show is straight after mine and, don't tell anyone, but I've got a bit of thing for him. He's just so handsome and hairy, lean and alluring.
Being alone in the darkened studio with him is one of the highlights of my week. Sigh.
Creative nights are planned for most other times - the art room beckons and so does my laptop. I prefer to write on a keyboard because I think through my fingers. Tap, tap, tap, like rain on the roof.
So, I've put it out there - the plan for this week.
If it's too dark or grotty to go running, I'll hit the treadmill at the gym.
Now I have to admit that my food intake hasn't been great. I've had this insatiable craving for boysenberry jam. No, I'm not pregnant!
Who knows why, but it's probably a sugar fix craving. From now on, we'll just leave jam off the shopping list and add frozen berries into the mix. They'll be defrosted, of course, and be tossed into my morning muesli.
There has to be some reason why I need boysenberries, so can't deprive myself totally. They are high in antioxidants, so that's got to be good.
So there it is - exercise, good berries and peace. Oh and that irresistable Kiwiana host.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
The truth is out there
By Virginia Winder
We are not alone.
They walk among us.
OK, so I’m an alien movie and X File fan, but when I say “they”, I mean “we” and “us” changes to “you”.
Because the truth is we are out there – everywhere.
Most people in society are touched by mental illness in some way.
Since last week’s blog, dozens of amazing people have contacted me to share their own experiences. Others have sent messages about having people close to them who have been unwell or still are.
Even more have given me thoughtful and compassionate feedback. I truly believe that people the world over are inherently kind and accepting, and that’s especially so here in Taranaki.
Those who talked of illnesses mostly mentioned depression, anxiety and that yo-yo inner world of bipolar. But there are people in this community who are living with schizophrenia and also thriving.
Oh but the things we learn on the way.
I’m fortunate enough to be enrolled in a mindfulness class through the Taranaki District Health Board.
Mindfulness is about living in the moment. It’s also about accepting people and situations without judgement and with an open mind.
Mindfulness is the “it just is” way of thinking without attaching good or bad thoughts to it.
In fact, it teaches us to think of the mind as a guest house where everyone is welcome. So, when bad thoughts appear in your mind, you invite them in and then let them go. Or you can imagine they are clouds and let them float by, along with the good thoughts.
You see, thoughts are just thoughts; they aren’t truth.
One of the best things about mindfulness is that it’s about focusing on right now and doing that to the best of your ability – like reading this! Or when you’re working, being absolutely intent on that and nothing else.
So if you’re working on a report or story, turn off your emails, switch your cellphone on to silent or aeroplane mode and give all your attention to writing.
It’s incredibly rewarding and work days just fly by.
Try doing it when you have coffee with a friend – focus solely on them and what they are saying. It’s an amazing experience living mindfully.
You can do that with exercise too by focusing on your breathing, your strides, your strokes and your pedal pushing. Break it right down to that smallest movement and try to do each one to the best of your ability.
I know that on midwinter days it’s so easy to curl up at home, pull the blinds and hide away from the world and the weather. I did that yesterday when it never stopped raining – I had a PJ day. It was lovely too.
But it’s not great training strategy, so I’m going to listen to Coach Clint who has shared the “rocks in the jar” concept.
The rocks have to go in first, then you can fit in the pebbles, then fill the gaps up with sand.
You can’t put the rocks in last because they simply won’t fit.
What he means is that you have to focus on running, biking and swimming first – they are the rocks. The pebbles are Pilates and gym work for core strength. The sand is stretching and yoga.
My sports massage therapist, Lauren Hann (an ironwoman herself), says consistency is the key. She says that for now, when it’s so horrible out there, just do a little often.
Get on the wind trainer for half an hour, or head to the gym for a short workout. Go for a short run in your wet weather gear.
Do these things every day to keep your fitness levels up, your muscles working and your mind alert.
Honestly, one of the best things in the world for mental health is exercise.
Lauren has given me my pep talk. Clint has given me rocks.
Now it’s time to forget PJ days and continue training, without fail.
It’s all down to me now.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Midwinter lost in polar madness
By Virginia Winder
I lost June.
It disappeared inside a gothic dungeon, one with endless dark corridors that echoed, on and on, inside my head.
The outside world disappeared and after a desperate session with a pyschiatrist, I was put on stress leave for two weeks.
But I couldn't stop; there were still stories to finish, deadlines to meet and I was desperate to get everything done; to be reliable so I could finally rest. I was also determined I wouldn't let my mind conquer me.
It didn't work.
One day, after swimming lengths at the aquatic centre, I came home and collapsed, mentally and physically.
That Thursday night a month ago, I called the mental health crisis team and was admitted to hospital with deep depression, plus I was no longer in touch with reality.
I stayed two weeks in Te Puna Waiora, the acute inpatient adult mental health unit at Taranaki Base Hospital. I slept and slept.
Slowly, my cracked mind began to heal.
"Depression is like cancer of the mind," the head psychiatrist said.
But I don't just have the downs. I also have huge highs; times of great euphoria, when I can take on the world and do.
I used to say "yes, I'll do that", "sure thing, I'll join your committee", "yes, I can do that job", "I can do that course". Yes, yes, yes.
Then I would crash and burn. I call it the drop zone.
You see, I have bipolar, a mood disorder that seesaws between manic highs and deep depression.
I was inititally diagnosed in 2006, after my first major mental crash.
But I promptly dismissed it and even convinced a pyschiatrist that I didn't need medication because the first one gave me jaw-clenching spasms. Then I went into complete denial and conveniently forgot the diagnosis.
Through the power of my own mind, I banished it, completely.
I bumbled along through the next few years, flying high and then nosediving. Up down, up down. I felt like I was going crazy - and I was.
In November last year, I was so desperate I asked to be referred back to mental health. The bipolar diagnosis was re-confirmed and I found myself on new medication. Inititally it worked. Then the seesawing of moods began again.
Exercise helped stabilise me. A brisk walk, a slow run, a long bike ride or lengths in the outside pool drenched with sun - these all lifted my spirits or burnt up the raging energy inside me.
Exercise was my saving grace during this tumultuous time.
Because, despite having a mental illness, I refuse, point blank, to let it stop me living life to the full.
However, it did stop me in June.
In May I became so manic that I didn't have a day off work. I worked for 31 days - at least - without a break.
Not surprisingly, my concentration began to fail and my mind turned into a giant jumble, then bang, I found myself in the gothic castle.
Imagine your mind so far gone that the outside world feels unreal and the "real world" is a dark dungeon, complete with corridors of ancient stone dripping with moisture. Adding to my internal misery, these corridors are a maze - there is no way out.
Looking back, I realise now that I was suffering from psychosis. Yes, I was psychotic. I have had one other episode, back in the 1990s, when I thought the BBC World News was put on just for my benefit and the news readers were talking directly to me, but this was the first time my mind landscape was utterly different from what I could see with my eyes.
It took about a week in hospital before the gothic castle receded totally and I was back in the here and now.
I got angry with everybody and everything, then slowly I calmed down and began to feel level again.
Only then could I start to absorb the literature given to me about bipolar and begin to understand why life has been so difficult for so many years.
And yes, I have finally embraced my diagnosis, because I know if I don't, I can't put tools in place to stay well. Denial is a disaster.
The hospital staff were amazing. The nurses were all caring, and one in particular taught me a simple to way to gauge my mood every day.
Look at a door, now imagine that the bottom is zero and the top is 100. What is your natural mood?
Because I am an outgoing person, naturally vivacious and colourful, my good place is between 60 and 70.
Anything above that and I am getting elevated and heading into the danger zone of mania.
On the down side, the lowest I can safely go is 40. Anything beneath that and I am heading towards depression.
As well as writing about exercise and my goal to complete a half-ironman in January next year (just six months away), I will be passing on tips about leading a balanced life. I won't be dwelling on my illness, but I won't ignore it either. Instead, I aim to be focused on wellness.
The strategies that work for me will, hopefully, resonate with healthy-minded people as much as those of us with a mental illness or experiencing a period of depression. Because I will tell you there is always hope and light to being well. Your depression won't last forever and on the way you will learn a great deal about yourself and come out stronger and wiser.
You can reach out and ask for help. People will listen and care. True friends won't judge you and those who do aren't bad; they just don't understand or are fearful of what they don't know.
It's here that I have to say that I don't feel anger or regret for having bipolar. It simply is.
Strangely, I also see it as a gift; one that allows me to feel life intensely - both the periods of despair and great joy. I could do without psychosis though, and I may never have another episode. But then again, I could.
British actor and writer Stephen Fry, who has bipolar, made a documentary about the illness and asked fellow sufferers if they wished they didn't have manic depression. Only one woman said she didn't want to have it. The rest would never give it up, simply because the elevated periods can be so amazing, the possibilities and ideas so incredible.
These periods can also be terribly destructive, but in today's blog post, I will stay as positive as possible.
I truly believe that although I have this mood disorder, it's not who I am. It's an illness and I am not my illness.
I am me. A mother, a wife, a friend, a citizen passionate about communties, sustainability, the environment, art, music and writing.
While I have my ups and downs, I have continued to work, to write story after story to the best of my ability. To teach, to mentor, to freelance and tackle many, many tasks. That will continue because, thankfully, I am high-functioning and know that even when times get tough, I still manage to produce work.
Also, I do my absolute best to be a good mother and loving wife. It's here that I have to say that having my husband, Warren, as my "safe place" and rock is a great help.
Still, it's bloody tough sometimes, but I refuse, point blank, to ever give up.
Plus I am an athlete in the making.
My journey to Mt Maunganui on 5 January 2012 is still on.
It's likely I might be fast walking the Taranaki Daily News Half Marathon in October, but yes, the Port of Tauranga Half is still a realistic goal, as is the Tinman (Olympic-length triathlon) in December.
Now it's time to get back on track because I've just got to do it!
P.S. Now you all know why Sir John Kirwan is one of my greatest heroes. He's also the inspiration for me "coming out" about having bipolar. Mental illness needs to be demystified and the stigmas have to go.
People needing help with depression can go on to JK's practical, inspiring and useful website, which includes a programme to join for direct daily help.
Other helpful links are:
Aware
Headspace
Mental Health NZ
Balance NZ
Samaritans NZ
I lost June.
It disappeared inside a gothic dungeon, one with endless dark corridors that echoed, on and on, inside my head.
The outside world disappeared and after a desperate session with a pyschiatrist, I was put on stress leave for two weeks.
But I couldn't stop; there were still stories to finish, deadlines to meet and I was desperate to get everything done; to be reliable so I could finally rest. I was also determined I wouldn't let my mind conquer me.It didn't work.
One day, after swimming lengths at the aquatic centre, I came home and collapsed, mentally and physically.
That Thursday night a month ago, I called the mental health crisis team and was admitted to hospital with deep depression, plus I was no longer in touch with reality.
I stayed two weeks in Te Puna Waiora, the acute inpatient adult mental health unit at Taranaki Base Hospital. I slept and slept.
Slowly, my cracked mind began to heal.
"Depression is like cancer of the mind," the head psychiatrist said.
But I don't just have the downs. I also have huge highs; times of great euphoria, when I can take on the world and do.
I used to say "yes, I'll do that", "sure thing, I'll join your committee", "yes, I can do that job", "I can do that course". Yes, yes, yes.
Then I would crash and burn. I call it the drop zone.
You see, I have bipolar, a mood disorder that seesaws between manic highs and deep depression.
I was inititally diagnosed in 2006, after my first major mental crash.
But I promptly dismissed it and even convinced a pyschiatrist that I didn't need medication because the first one gave me jaw-clenching spasms. Then I went into complete denial and conveniently forgot the diagnosis.
Through the power of my own mind, I banished it, completely.
I bumbled along through the next few years, flying high and then nosediving. Up down, up down. I felt like I was going crazy - and I was.
In November last year, I was so desperate I asked to be referred back to mental health. The bipolar diagnosis was re-confirmed and I found myself on new medication. Inititally it worked. Then the seesawing of moods began again.
Exercise helped stabilise me. A brisk walk, a slow run, a long bike ride or lengths in the outside pool drenched with sun - these all lifted my spirits or burnt up the raging energy inside me.
Exercise was my saving grace during this tumultuous time.
Because, despite having a mental illness, I refuse, point blank, to let it stop me living life to the full.
However, it did stop me in June.
In May I became so manic that I didn't have a day off work. I worked for 31 days - at least - without a break.
Not surprisingly, my concentration began to fail and my mind turned into a giant jumble, then bang, I found myself in the gothic castle.
Imagine your mind so far gone that the outside world feels unreal and the "real world" is a dark dungeon, complete with corridors of ancient stone dripping with moisture. Adding to my internal misery, these corridors are a maze - there is no way out.
Looking back, I realise now that I was suffering from psychosis. Yes, I was psychotic. I have had one other episode, back in the 1990s, when I thought the BBC World News was put on just for my benefit and the news readers were talking directly to me, but this was the first time my mind landscape was utterly different from what I could see with my eyes.
It took about a week in hospital before the gothic castle receded totally and I was back in the here and now.
I got angry with everybody and everything, then slowly I calmed down and began to feel level again.
Only then could I start to absorb the literature given to me about bipolar and begin to understand why life has been so difficult for so many years.
And yes, I have finally embraced my diagnosis, because I know if I don't, I can't put tools in place to stay well. Denial is a disaster.
The hospital staff were amazing. The nurses were all caring, and one in particular taught me a simple to way to gauge my mood every day.
Because I am an outgoing person, naturally vivacious and colourful, my good place is between 60 and 70.
Anything above that and I am getting elevated and heading into the danger zone of mania.
On the down side, the lowest I can safely go is 40. Anything beneath that and I am heading towards depression.
As well as writing about exercise and my goal to complete a half-ironman in January next year (just six months away), I will be passing on tips about leading a balanced life. I won't be dwelling on my illness, but I won't ignore it either. Instead, I aim to be focused on wellness.
The strategies that work for me will, hopefully, resonate with healthy-minded people as much as those of us with a mental illness or experiencing a period of depression. Because I will tell you there is always hope and light to being well. Your depression won't last forever and on the way you will learn a great deal about yourself and come out stronger and wiser.
You can reach out and ask for help. People will listen and care. True friends won't judge you and those who do aren't bad; they just don't understand or are fearful of what they don't know.
It's here that I have to say that I don't feel anger or regret for having bipolar. It simply is.
Strangely, I also see it as a gift; one that allows me to feel life intensely - both the periods of despair and great joy. I could do without psychosis though, and I may never have another episode. But then again, I could.
British actor and writer Stephen Fry, who has bipolar, made a documentary about the illness and asked fellow sufferers if they wished they didn't have manic depression. Only one woman said she didn't want to have it. The rest would never give it up, simply because the elevated periods can be so amazing, the possibilities and ideas so incredible.
These periods can also be terribly destructive, but in today's blog post, I will stay as positive as possible.
I truly believe that although I have this mood disorder, it's not who I am. It's an illness and I am not my illness.
I am me. A mother, a wife, a friend, a citizen passionate about communties, sustainability, the environment, art, music and writing.
While I have my ups and downs, I have continued to work, to write story after story to the best of my ability. To teach, to mentor, to freelance and tackle many, many tasks. That will continue because, thankfully, I am high-functioning and know that even when times get tough, I still manage to produce work.
Also, I do my absolute best to be a good mother and loving wife. It's here that I have to say that having my husband, Warren, as my "safe place" and rock is a great help.
Still, it's bloody tough sometimes, but I refuse, point blank, to ever give up.
Plus I am an athlete in the making.
My journey to Mt Maunganui on 5 January 2012 is still on.
It's likely I might be fast walking the Taranaki Daily News Half Marathon in October, but yes, the Port of Tauranga Half is still a realistic goal, as is the Tinman (Olympic-length triathlon) in December.
Now it's time to get back on track because I've just got to do it!
People needing help with depression can go on to JK's practical, inspiring and useful website, which includes a programme to join for direct daily help.
Other helpful links are:
Aware
Headspace
Mental Health NZ
Balance NZ
Samaritans NZ
Monday, May 28, 2012
Pedalling movies way to go
By Virginia Winder
Just biked through my first movie on a wind trainer.
My normal bike was set up in the lounge on a secure gadget that allows me to cycle normally, without moving. So I sat there watching Source Code, a 93-minute sci-fi thriller reminiscent of Ground Hog Day without the humour.
What a great way to train! I can choose whatever I want to watch because none of the family will want to be in there with me because of the noise.
Once again, it's the generosity of the extended Barnett family that's allowing me to do this. Bryce's son-in-law, Mick McBeth, has lent the wind trainer to me.
He gave me a free osteopath treatment last week too, before heading to the Olympics to look after the NZ triathlon team. I know it sounds like name dropping, but honestly, I'm still gobsmacked at the luck I've had on the way.
But it's all hard work from this end from now on.
Coach Clint has given me my training schedule and it is daunting, but doable, especially with the wind trainer and Contours gym at hand.
It's the dark, not the bad weather that's the problem. Biking is a bit scary because cars might not see me and I'm a bit paranoid about turning an ankle in a pothole or on a stone.
"Why don't you get night vision goggles, Mum?" suggested my helpful son. It's a thought. They wouldn't look any more ridiculous than the Batwoman sunglasses.
People are so helpful on this journey.
"You didn't mention sports bras for women in your story about running gear for half marathons," said Kelvin from Frontrunner on the phone. "We sell the best in the world."
Then he asked about my shoes. I mentioned about having plantar fasciitis and he said: "Bring in your old shoes and your new shoes, and we'll have a look."
He also said he'd look at my running style too.
Today I went to Lauren Hann for a sports massage and she was so inspiring. Not only is she a great therapist, she is also an ironwoman, who had so much advice to share.
We have already met actually and I mentioned her in an earlier blog. We chatted at the pool and I found her so encouraging, but I didn't know who she was then.
Lauren's advice today was that to reach a goal like a half ironman you have to be consistent with training and just keep going, steadily, regularly, day after day.
So I am.
Just biked through my first movie on a wind trainer.
My normal bike was set up in the lounge on a secure gadget that allows me to cycle normally, without moving. So I sat there watching Source Code, a 93-minute sci-fi thriller reminiscent of Ground Hog Day without the humour.
What a great way to train! I can choose whatever I want to watch because none of the family will want to be in there with me because of the noise.
Once again, it's the generosity of the extended Barnett family that's allowing me to do this. Bryce's son-in-law, Mick McBeth, has lent the wind trainer to me.
He gave me a free osteopath treatment last week too, before heading to the Olympics to look after the NZ triathlon team. I know it sounds like name dropping, but honestly, I'm still gobsmacked at the luck I've had on the way.
But it's all hard work from this end from now on.
Coach Clint has given me my training schedule and it is daunting, but doable, especially with the wind trainer and Contours gym at hand.
It's the dark, not the bad weather that's the problem. Biking is a bit scary because cars might not see me and I'm a bit paranoid about turning an ankle in a pothole or on a stone.
"Why don't you get night vision goggles, Mum?" suggested my helpful son. It's a thought. They wouldn't look any more ridiculous than the Batwoman sunglasses.
People are so helpful on this journey.
"You didn't mention sports bras for women in your story about running gear for half marathons," said Kelvin from Frontrunner on the phone. "We sell the best in the world."
Then he asked about my shoes. I mentioned about having plantar fasciitis and he said: "Bring in your old shoes and your new shoes, and we'll have a look."
He also said he'd look at my running style too.
Today I went to Lauren Hann for a sports massage and she was so inspiring. Not only is she a great therapist, she is also an ironwoman, who had so much advice to share.
We have already met actually and I mentioned her in an earlier blog. We chatted at the pool and I found her so encouraging, but I didn't know who she was then.
Lauren's advice today was that to reach a goal like a half ironman you have to be consistent with training and just keep going, steadily, regularly, day after day.
So I am.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Saturday night dreaming
By Virginia Winder
The aquatic centre is a fine place for dreaming on Saturday nights.
While people are getting ready for social events, the lanes are relatively free you see.
I have no idea how many lengths I did tonight because I was in dream mode. That's when I go to a far away place, well only to the Bay of Plenty, and imagine what could be.
While I was swimming, I was actually racing in the Tinman. In my head, I was running around the Mount, and heading for the finish line. I was striding out, feeling fantastic and even smiling.
When I'm swimming, I often do this because there's nothing else to look at.
I also focus on style and tonight I had a bit of a chat with a South African bloke, a '63 baby like me, about remembering to bend arms and try different strokes. He also recommended looking up Total Immersion swimming on the internet for some good tips.
All up, I swam for about 65 minutes and felt fantastic.
Now, for those who don't know, I didn't do the TriWoman's race at Pt Chevalier last month. Unfortunately, I ended up with vertigo, which is a horrible illness that affects balance, so swimming or riding a bike was out. Am fine now.
In fact, I'm great. Have eaten exceptionally well today too, fruit (yes, those feijoas again), sugar-free bircher muesli, poached eggs on one slice of grainy toast with no butter, three coffees (barely any sugar now), baked salmon, brown rice salad and broccoli.
All so virtuous, but when it comes down to it, I won't be remembered for eating well. Or for being slim or even larger than life as I was before.
I hope that my legacy will be about showing that personal change is possible and living it. For having a goal and going for it. For speaking out about what matters and not staying quiet when that would be so easy to do...
Who knows, I won't be writing my own eulogy!
Went to a funeral this afternoon, which was a wonderful celebration of a man's life. It began with a clip from the Topp Twins TV series featuring this man of the land and it ended with his family honouring him and Frank Sinatra singing My Way.
It got me thinking of course, as funerals do, about legacies, love and life.
What if I could be a ghost and could pass on just three pieces of advice to people at my own funeral, what would I say?
It might sound macabre, but it's actually quite uplifting.
Today, these are mine:
Be kind to everyone, always...
Be open-minded about everything, so you keep learning, listening, growing, always...
Keep adding to your bucket list... don't ever get to the stage you've done everything, because you need to have the next goal, the next dream, always...
What would yours be?
The aquatic centre is a fine place for dreaming on Saturday nights.
While people are getting ready for social events, the lanes are relatively free you see.
I have no idea how many lengths I did tonight because I was in dream mode. That's when I go to a far away place, well only to the Bay of Plenty, and imagine what could be.
While I was swimming, I was actually racing in the Tinman. In my head, I was running around the Mount, and heading for the finish line. I was striding out, feeling fantastic and even smiling.
When I'm swimming, I often do this because there's nothing else to look at.
I also focus on style and tonight I had a bit of a chat with a South African bloke, a '63 baby like me, about remembering to bend arms and try different strokes. He also recommended looking up Total Immersion swimming on the internet for some good tips.
All up, I swam for about 65 minutes and felt fantastic.
Now, for those who don't know, I didn't do the TriWoman's race at Pt Chevalier last month. Unfortunately, I ended up with vertigo, which is a horrible illness that affects balance, so swimming or riding a bike was out. Am fine now.
In fact, I'm great. Have eaten exceptionally well today too, fruit (yes, those feijoas again), sugar-free bircher muesli, poached eggs on one slice of grainy toast with no butter, three coffees (barely any sugar now), baked salmon, brown rice salad and broccoli.
All so virtuous, but when it comes down to it, I won't be remembered for eating well. Or for being slim or even larger than life as I was before.
I hope that my legacy will be about showing that personal change is possible and living it. For having a goal and going for it. For speaking out about what matters and not staying quiet when that would be so easy to do...
Who knows, I won't be writing my own eulogy!
Went to a funeral this afternoon, which was a wonderful celebration of a man's life. It began with a clip from the Topp Twins TV series featuring this man of the land and it ended with his family honouring him and Frank Sinatra singing My Way.
It got me thinking of course, as funerals do, about legacies, love and life.
What if I could be a ghost and could pass on just three pieces of advice to people at my own funeral, what would I say?
It might sound macabre, but it's actually quite uplifting.
Today, these are mine:
Be kind to everyone, always...
Be open-minded about everything, so you keep learning, listening, growing, always...
Keep adding to your bucket list... don't ever get to the stage you've done everything, because you need to have the next goal, the next dream, always...
What would yours be?
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Queen of Shorts gets smaller, busier
By Virginia Winder
My daughter in Wellington and her friend in Auckland have been missing my blogs.
"Why don't you just write something short, Mum, like 'I went for a run and ate a carrot'. They don't all have to be masterpieces," Clementine said on the phone tonight.
"I suppose you're right," I said wondering, who would want to read about carrots, but it did get me thinking about briefs.
Not the type you wear, but snippets.
I could be the mistress of them - the Queen of Shorts.
"I'm under 90kg now," I said.
"Really?"
"Yes, I'm in the 80s, I've made it! I'm actually 88kg."
It happened so fast.
I can thank those egg-shaped green fruit - feijoas - cutting out alcohol and added sugar. I no longer have it in flat whites!
Alas, I haven't been balanced in the world of work, so aim to do better in regards to efficiency, focus and self-discipline.
Same goes for training.
It's high-endurance, no-excuses, this-is-it time. It's about long bike rides, pounding roads, length after length in the pool.
Races have been entered and paid for by Bryce Barnett and his wonderful team at KCL Properties - I am entered in the Tinman on December 2 this year and the Port of Tauranga Half Ironman on January 5, 2013.
Coach Clint sat me down and said I should stick to my original aim, so I am. But also plan to do the Wells half-ironman six weeks later in Taranaki.
Before that is the Taranaki Daily News half marathon on October 7 - just five months away! The Tinman is seven months away, the half-ironman eight months.
Training is everything.
Life? This is my life!
See why blogs need to be short?!
Thanks wise child.
My daughter in Wellington and her friend in Auckland have been missing my blogs.
"Why don't you just write something short, Mum, like 'I went for a run and ate a carrot'. They don't all have to be masterpieces," Clementine said on the phone tonight.
"I suppose you're right," I said wondering, who would want to read about carrots, but it did get me thinking about briefs.
Not the type you wear, but snippets.
I could be the mistress of them - the Queen of Shorts.
"I'm under 90kg now," I said.
"Really?"
"Yes, I'm in the 80s, I've made it! I'm actually 88kg."
It happened so fast.
I can thank those egg-shaped green fruit - feijoas - cutting out alcohol and added sugar. I no longer have it in flat whites!
Alas, I haven't been balanced in the world of work, so aim to do better in regards to efficiency, focus and self-discipline.
Same goes for training.
It's high-endurance, no-excuses, this-is-it time. It's about long bike rides, pounding roads, length after length in the pool.
Races have been entered and paid for by Bryce Barnett and his wonderful team at KCL Properties - I am entered in the Tinman on December 2 this year and the Port of Tauranga Half Ironman on January 5, 2013.
Coach Clint sat me down and said I should stick to my original aim, so I am. But also plan to do the Wells half-ironman six weeks later in Taranaki.
Before that is the Taranaki Daily News half marathon on October 7 - just five months away! The Tinman is seven months away, the half-ironman eight months.
Training is everything.
Life? This is my life!
See why blogs need to be short?!
Thanks wise child.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sobering thoughts on weighty matters
By Virginia Winder
Easter was hard.
I blame the chocolate and with that came the blue cheese and brie we offered guests. I couldn't help myself. On top of that was Alan Scott pinot gris and apple cider.
Perhaps it was frustration over my bike, which kept having chain problems, or the chocolates stacked up everywhere, but to be honest I think it was the hotcross buns, which are my absolute downfall.
Whatever happened at Easter, the scales showed the damage.
So, instead of shedding the extra 1-2kg I was needing to sneak under the 90kg mark into the wonderful 80s, I actually put that amount on!
That was despite running, swimming and trying to bike (it's fixed now).
It's time to follow my own wise advice and not beat myself up for my first failure in seven months and, instead, realise I am only human. It's time to think ahead, regroup, train harder and fit everything in.
Went for my first walking lunch with fellow garden writer Sarah Foy and it was brilliant.
We chatted, brainstormed ideas, snooped on a tropical inner-city garden and felt good about working up a sweat. You see I've been researching information about how getting moving helps our brains work better, so have decided to put it into practice.
Even wrote an entire feature on it in my weekly sustainably column, Your World, which appears in the Taranaki Daily News each Tuesday.
This week, I've focused on the power of water for performance. Did you know a lack of water is the No 1 trigger for daytime fatigue? Check out: Drink lots to stay above water for more H20 info.
So now I'm drinking more water in earnest, trying to move more each day inbetween writing to prevent computer-related problems and doing my best to keep my brain in order.
As for the food, I have replaced chocolate eggs with feijoas. Yum!
I have decided that my absolute favourite meal of all, even above chicken mole, is bircher muesli soaked overnight in water, topped with freshly scooped-out feijoas, a handful of fresh walnuts and Biofarm bush honey yoghurt.
Sorry whanau in Aussie, who may now be craving feijoas, but they are oh so delicious. Especially from the farmers market and grown by Marion and Gavin Struthers! Mmmm.
Other new things... have been training quite hard for my second Contact Tri Women's race, which is on this weekend in Auckland. Feel quite confident that I'll be able to run rather than walk this time!
Also, have decided to give up alcohol for good. Yes, forever.
You're probably wondering why.
Well, it's to do with sleep mostly. I'm not a big drinker at all, but when I do have a glass or two of wine or cider, I suffer terrible insomnia. In fact, the more I drink, the less sleep I get. So, if I have a glass of wine or even two a couple of nights in a row, that's it, I may as well not bother heading to bed. Annoyingly, I can't concentrate on anything either, so am unable to write, read, watch a movie or do art. It's just nightmarish.
Even though I do love a glass of wine, a cider or margarita, it's just not worth it any more and seems to be getting worse with age. So, from now on, my lovely husband has a permanent sober driver.
For life.
Easter was hard.
I blame the chocolate and with that came the blue cheese and brie we offered guests. I couldn't help myself. On top of that was Alan Scott pinot gris and apple cider.
Perhaps it was frustration over my bike, which kept having chain problems, or the chocolates stacked up everywhere, but to be honest I think it was the hotcross buns, which are my absolute downfall.
Whatever happened at Easter, the scales showed the damage.
So, instead of shedding the extra 1-2kg I was needing to sneak under the 90kg mark into the wonderful 80s, I actually put that amount on!
That was despite running, swimming and trying to bike (it's fixed now).
It's time to follow my own wise advice and not beat myself up for my first failure in seven months and, instead, realise I am only human. It's time to think ahead, regroup, train harder and fit everything in.
Went for my first walking lunch with fellow garden writer Sarah Foy and it was brilliant.
We chatted, brainstormed ideas, snooped on a tropical inner-city garden and felt good about working up a sweat. You see I've been researching information about how getting moving helps our brains work better, so have decided to put it into practice.
Even wrote an entire feature on it in my weekly sustainably column, Your World, which appears in the Taranaki Daily News each Tuesday.
This week, I've focused on the power of water for performance. Did you know a lack of water is the No 1 trigger for daytime fatigue? Check out: Drink lots to stay above water for more H20 info.
So now I'm drinking more water in earnest, trying to move more each day inbetween writing to prevent computer-related problems and doing my best to keep my brain in order.
As for the food, I have replaced chocolate eggs with feijoas. Yum!
I have decided that my absolute favourite meal of all, even above chicken mole, is bircher muesli soaked overnight in water, topped with freshly scooped-out feijoas, a handful of fresh walnuts and Biofarm bush honey yoghurt.
Sorry whanau in Aussie, who may now be craving feijoas, but they are oh so delicious. Especially from the farmers market and grown by Marion and Gavin Struthers! Mmmm.
Other new things... have been training quite hard for my second Contact Tri Women's race, which is on this weekend in Auckland. Feel quite confident that I'll be able to run rather than walk this time!
Also, have decided to give up alcohol for good. Yes, forever.
You're probably wondering why.
Well, it's to do with sleep mostly. I'm not a big drinker at all, but when I do have a glass or two of wine or cider, I suffer terrible insomnia. In fact, the more I drink, the less sleep I get. So, if I have a glass of wine or even two a couple of nights in a row, that's it, I may as well not bother heading to bed. Annoyingly, I can't concentrate on anything either, so am unable to write, read, watch a movie or do art. It's just nightmarish.
Even though I do love a glass of wine, a cider or margarita, it's just not worth it any more and seems to be getting worse with age. So, from now on, my lovely husband has a permanent sober driver.
For life.
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