Lilith Saintcrow

Okay, so I now know why that one day was so quiet.

The squirrels were training their Neo.

Yesterday I was on the treadmill. It was the last five minutes of a five-mile run and, true to form, I had a side stitch and a serious case of wanting to be just about anywhere than where I was. I kept running, because, well, what the hell, it was the last five minutes and I knew I’d feel Victorious and Vindicated and all sorts of other words when I was done.

Then it happened. Well, not it, but the precondition for the utterly ridiculous I am about to relate occurred.

I saw a squirrel.

He was a big one, too, and he sauntered out into the middle of the yard in a few graceful, authoritative leaps. My earbuds were in, so I couldn’t tell if he was chittering. I do know he was scanning my yard like he expected an army to appear at any moment.

No army appeared. However…one of my cats did. The sweet, stupid tuxedo kitty, who I adore. Of all three, he’s most my cat. He thinks he’s a hunter, too, and sometimes leaves birds (and when we had the field out back, often mice) on my front step. Of course, he totally ruins the effect by being scared of them once he’s killed them–when I pick them up he runs and hides.

So anyway, he was going to get himself a squirrel snack. What I was thinking was, You idiot, that could have rabies! What came out, since I was running and couldn’t get any breath, was a version of “MMMmmmmrph AAAARGHNOOOOOOOO!”

That was when it happened, and I realized this was the Morpheus!Squirrel’s saviour. This was The One. (This probably makes my cats Agents.)

Anyway, the squirrel watched the cat bounding for him, and I could swear there was a moment of kung-fu pose before the cat leapt, all graceful authority, tail held out and claws most probably unsheathed. It was beautiful. It was flat-out gorgeous.

It was, however, doomed.

Neo!Squirrel jumped at the last second, did an amazing flip, and I swear to God he kicked my cat in the head.

No. Seriously. He kicked my cat in the head.

In the head.

My kitty landed in a heap, Squirrel!Neo chittered and zoomed away. He leapt five feet up, caught the trunk of the plum tree, and fricking vanished. Vanished. I hit the stop button–by this point, all five miles had been achieved and I was having visions of a dead cat to deal with–ripped my earbuds out, almost ran into the sunroom’s glass door, and got outside just in time to see my tuxedo kitty zoom under the fence, tail held low and ears back.

I don’t blame him. He was kicked in the head.

I stood there, sweating and cursing, and the phone rang inside the house. For a moment I seriously thought it was Squirrel!Neo calling with a declaration of war.

It was a telemarketer. Thank God. (And this is the only time you’ll probably hear me say THAT.)

My tuxedo kitty seems none the worse for wear, just a bit shaken and embarrassed. He came back in after lunch and spent a long time grooming himself and beating up on the other two cats. (To assure himself of his masculinity, I guess.) It was with no little trepidation that I climbed on the treadmill this morning.

Halfway through my run, Squirrel!Neo sauntered out into the yard. He spent a long time pretending to dig, but then he hopped up on one of the patio chairs and eyed me directly for a disconcertingly long time as I ran and tried to ignore him. Beady little eyes, big fluffy tail, and kung fu. Jesus.

I can’t wait to see what’s next. I just hope that fuzzy little bastard doesn’t think I’m after his girlfriend. And I also hope he can’t get his paws on any weapons…

Yesterday I did my very first three-mile run. I’m informed that three miles is the breakover point–once you reach three miles, you can pretty much train for any distance effectively, or something like that. Everyone was cheering me on–funny, running is so solitary, and yet my Twitter and Facebook blew up with “Go Lili!” “You can do it!” “Those miles don’t stand a chance!”

I was so grateful for the cheering, you guys. It was like I had a whole crowd urging me for the finish line.

I did finish. I stood there, sweating and victorious, and actually yelled, “HA! I GOT THE KNIFE! NOW TURN ON THE GODDAMN LIGHTS!” (That is one of my favorite movies…)

Since I was doing this at home, the only thing I accomplished was scaring two cats and laughing like a loon while I folded up the treadmill. The cats eventually forgave me once I’d taken a shower and refilled their food bowls. (They’re like that.)

So. Three miles. When I started this a long time ago, I would walk for six minutes and run for one minute, and I dreaded those single minutes with a passion. I did that for two solid months. I took everything else in similar baby steps–walking for five and running for two, walking for four and running for three, all in two or three week (or even month-long) increments. Then came twenty-minute runs. Twenty-two minute runs. Adding a couple minutes every couple weeks. Then two-mile runs, upping speed; two and a half, two and three quarters.

And now, here I am. Running three miles. I did it again this morning.

There’s this list that I keep in my head. It’s a List Of Things I Never Thought I Could Do, But I’ve Done And Actually Kicked Ass At. I think everyone needs this sort of list. Most of the time, it’s filled with things that I never thought I could do and I did only because I bloody well had to, it was That Kind of situation. I do very well thrown into the snakepit, apparently.

Every time I think something’s going to knock me down or out, I mentally get out that list. “If I can _____,” I say grimly, “then I can do this.” It’s amazingly effective, at least for me.

Anyway. Also today I got a bunch of spiderwebs tattooed on my back, bringing together all the pieces I had before. The web are about three-quarters done. Soon I’ll be going in to get them finished. Grayscale work hurts, and the long lines the webs depend on, ouchie! So I spent a significant part of today clutching my hands together, breathing through it, and thinking if I can run three miles at a time, I can get through this.

It worked like a charm.

Spin me right round, baby right round…

I’ve gone from being barely able to run for two whole minutes without gasping and feeling like I was being tortured…to running for almost an hour at double the pace relatively easily. I’m glad I’ve looked back at the original contract I made with myself to exercise, because it reminds me of how far I’ve come in baby steps. Breaking up a goal into bite-size chunks and methodically working through those chunks isn’t glamorous, but you do eventually get to a place where you look around ad realize, holy crap I’m doing X when before I could barely do Y! It’s a great feeling.

I won’t be signing up for any marathons soon. For right now it’s enough that I know I can do these things, and feel the effects in my much-smaller-now body.

Anyway, today is President’s Day and the kids are home from school. We’re heading out to OMSI with our friend H. and her son. Another great thing about fighting my way back from the abyss–I have energy to do cool things now! I am fun again! *rolls eyes at self* But really, that’s how I feel. Like I’ve plugged back into the socket that is my awesomeness.

Tomorrow night, my awesome fellow Razorbill author Suzanne Young is signing out at Cedar Hills Crossing. The Princess loved her book, The Naughty List, and Suzanne is a ton of fun. If you can, go out and show some love! I don’t know if I’ll get out there, but I’ll be there in spirit cheering her on.

Oh, and my Valentine’s Day date-with-myself has been moved to Tuesday. It just worked out better that way. I’m going to go see The Wolfman. Yeah, it might suck. My expectations are pretty low, I’m just going for the escape, the costumes, and Benecio Del Toro’s lips. (The man pouts like Mae West and I LOVE IT.) Plus I’m going to buy myself popcorn, because I am a Good Date.

I can also say that I’ve finished the latest round of revisions on Heaven’s Spite and am flipping back to Dru 4 and a short story. No rest for the wicked, and I’m getting to like it that way. So I must bid you a civil adieu. Regular blogging will resume tomorrow.

News! I’m over at Book Chick City, talking about why I write urban fantasy. You can win a signed Strange Angels or Night Shift, too! (Sorry, US residents only.) Also, I’ve updated the Strange Angels and Kismet pages with new information. You may also want to check out the forum, too.

I hear about these wonderful, mythical things. Days off. The very sound slips past the lips–the sibilance in the middle, the “f” at the end sliding between top teeth and bottom lip. Oh, what a magical phrase.

Today is my “rest” day from running on the treadmill. Which means I only have to shovelglove, and I decided to go through the Wii aerobics stuff. After unlocking the 6 and 10 minute Super Hula Hoop, I decided to try the Basic Step, and felt like I was stumbling around in a new dance class. Finally my feet caught the groove, and I can tell I’m going to be doing it again. Persistence pays off in more than writing.

That’s just the beginning. There’s schoolwork to supervise, a trip to buy a new toilet seat (don’t ask, it’s kids, they jump on things, we’re just lucky nobody broke a leg) and another difficult scene in the WIP. I want to do some skateboarding on the Wii later too.

Shut up. It’s fun and it makes me feel better. Exercise is nature’s antidepressant, dammit.

It’s raining, too, a fine thin mist like a silver veil. The pine needles outside my window are full of filigree, and when the slight breeze touches them they let loose a shower of watery sparks. It’s the kind of day I put my spectacles in my pocket and go walking on. Maybe after dinner I’ll get a chance to, but by then it will be dark and wandering around in the dark without my spectacles is a Bad Idea. I suppose I could wear them anyway. It’s not like they don’t wash off.

I’m on the third day of the luck journal. Changing one’s habits is hard work. (I’ve heard it takes 90 days, which makes me think maybe I should extend the luck journaling.) The only salvation is that it will get easier the longer I do it, and soon I’ll have a new crop of habits, healthier ones. Or at least less-destructive ones.

My heart is still broken. The good news is, I’ve come to a place where I’m seriously considering that it might be for the best. I am finding positive things about being alone on that level–I can find out who I am without pleasing another person, cleaning up is easier, I no longer have to feel “less-than” or be afraid that someone is going to leave me. The worst (for my heart, that is) has happened, and I’m still alive and reasonably OK. Ambulatory, getting things done, still with a great deal to feel lucky about. Best of all, this pain truly is temporary. Everyone who told me it was, over and over again–because hell, you need to hear that when you’re in pain, you need to hear it over and over again because HELLO? YOU’RE IN PAIN!–was right. Each day is a little better than the day before. Sometimes only marginally, but I’ll take it. Sometimes, often, more than marginally. I haven’t had a step back yet.

That’s not to say there won’t be setbacks and stumble. But all in all, I can see I’m moving forward. I’m not going to feel this way forever, because the tide of pain is retreating. It still hurts, but it’s manageable now.

Thank God.

Before breakfast, and I’m groggy. Am glad I got a sunlamp-type thing, because seasonal weirdness is very much alive and well in this house.

But enough of that. I have a confession to make.

I bought a Wii.

Look, it was on sale, okay? And while we don’t watch much telly, the kids are completely enchanted with video games. They both need exercise, and Coyote Boy could do with some too. And I won’t lie, I wanted the yoga portion for Wii Fit for myself. Unfortunately, the poses I love in yoga aren’t really featured, or if they are, the electronic “trainer” gives incorrect feedback–like telling me to put a lot of my weight in my arms in Downward-Facing Dog, instead of keeping it in my legs. Eh.

But last night we had a Family Bowling Night with the Wii, and it turned out pretty fun. Everyone was happy. The kids love the sports games, especially baseball. I like the balance games, including a skateboarding one I’m not so terrible at. (Still can’t ride the rails, but oh well.) I’m also going to try the strength training games. I could use a little strength.

If we can manage to do this consistently, the damn thing may end up being good for our health. Of course the kids are lobbying for Super Mario Brothers and Zelda. I’m holding firm. For a couple months, at least.

I finished The Luck Factor last night, did more exercises, and have numbered pages in the blank journal I was using for the exercises 1-30. It’s a luck journal–at the end of every day, I write down what’s been good-lucky. 30 days of thinking about it may help make a habit of regarding my luck the way lucky people do. It will be good practice, because my next reading assignment is a book that isn’t half as cheerful. Ugh.

Oh, and the book? I got past that critical blockage scene. Now it’s a slalom. Hopefully. In any event, got to keep slogging. The book may get written slowly if I poke at it, but it won’t be written at ALL if I avoid it. And considering I’m under deadline, that would be Bad.