Another red-letter day

It’s been a long time since I’ve written. I’ve been fitting in some runs where I can, a bit of lifting, mostly just dealing with life.

One of the staff was reminding me that the funzies powerlifting comp at my gym is coming up in a few weeks. I was also just thinking that I’m due to start my 2 month training cycle for the yearly Thanksgiving race. In a normal year I might train seriously. This year, I’m sort of half-trained in both lifting and running and inclined to just compete where I’m at– plus trying to train running and powerlifting at the same time is foolishness. The other day I had a nice confidence-building lift session, messy 5×5 at 185lb squat and 5×2 at 145lb bench (fffff that was heavy) so that puts me in a good place to match or beat my relative strength from last year. Runs are still getting faster, and I still have time to do speed work (my endurance is already pretty good). My husband wants to run this year too, which is cool.

It’s been a very long few weeks at work. I was just musing to $husband that it’s been a while since I cried in my cube out of frustration. One of the good features of my new way of eating is that it evens out my mood quite a bit, and that’s probably responsible for a lot of it. Still, my go-to stress mode these days is avoidance. I spend more time than I ought messing around on the interwebs and trying to shut out the worries and the feels.

For some reason my boss asked me to be in charge of taking care of a Big Deal Thing With A Deadline while he was traveling, and left me with detailed instructions about how to do it. His instructions were incomplete. (He did own up to this, rather than blaming me, so that was decent.) We were behind schedule, now we’re even more behind schedule, and everyone’s going to have to work extra to catch up. (I been working extra anyway.)

The lead on the other half of this project is a terrible perfectionist and he was in my office pulling his hair out at the prospect of having to go through another round of work because he wouldn’t be able to say it was "good enough" if he was to have to go back through it. Lucky for me, I’ve got no fucks left to give. If the thing looks roughly like it’s supposed to look it’s going out.

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