I started to title this "RollerCoaster Week". It's still only Thursday, so I can't declare "Yippee in a puddle it's Friday! (www.dailycoyote.net)", but the week had alternately sped and stalled. Fortunately or unfortunately, I've never been on a rollercoaster, but I think I grasp the concept.
I had my first real job interview on Tuesday. Monday nights are my "alone evening", when my fabulous spouse is busy filling his brain with a foreign language. Instead of stressing too badly about the interview, I managed to make it a pleasant evening. Came home, threw on appropriate clothing, and went for a wog (walk-jog-walk). Not far enough, not fast enough, but better than nothing. Followed it up with 20 minutes of Pilates while dinner cooked. By the time El Bandito (pseudonym for my most adored husband) returned, I was nicely relaxed and full of tasty soup. He's been a trooper, helping me shop for interview-wear (Apparently, I'm a "guy" when it comes to shopping. I can happily search for the best mitre saw for hours, but buying clothing? MISERABLE) and being about the best confidence booster possible. The interview on Tuesday went well, I think -- first there was the usual public transit clusterf**k, but I managed to squeak in punctually. I enjoyed the interview, and I'm pretty sure I didn't completely blow it. There may well be a better-qualified candidate, but I do feel as if I gave it a good shot. We'll see.
The title of this post ended up coming from a conversation I had with one of my circus friends, who does some absolutely fabulous single-point trapeze ( www.sweetcanproductions.com ). She's been helping me find my way back to the trapeze after major shoulder surgery, and somehow the conversation turned to bruises and muscle soreness. About how I woke up one recent morning and felt the soreness in my body and felt so pleased -- sometimes, pain reminds us that we're doing the things we truly love. Sometimes, the soreness says "yes, I tried. and yes, I got it!" I've got black-n-blue marks from doing trapeze tricks for the very first time in a year, and I ache. And I love it. This pain? I embrace it. It tells me that I'm using my body. That I'm twisting, turning, and pulling in ways I'd almost forgotten were possible. That soreness? It tells me that I'm *alive*, that I've pushed my limits and loved every second of it, even while cursing.
Isn't that what living is about?