Date Night: Not your usual dinner and a movie

It’s the end of a long, exhausting week and I am dreaming of my couch, a glass of red wine and a good book.  Unfortunately, a dream is all it will be on this Friday afternoon.

When I get home, I ignore my cozy couch and drag my body up the stairs and into the shower.  It’s the last thing I want to do but I am determined to embark on a very different date night with my husband. 

We are going to see Feist, who is headlining a Sled Island show at Olympic Plaza.  Normally, this is not something we would choose to do, but I was lucky enough to win tickets.  Also, I remember my commitment to stepping out of my comfort zone and this is definitely a prime opportunity.   Big, noisy crowds tend to make me grumpy and anxious.  By nature, I enjoy quiet, peaceful surroundings with lots of space.  But I am determined, so I ignore my misgivings and get ready.

Showered and dressed, we jump in the car and head for the city. Instead of driving into downtown Calgary and fighting traffic, we decide to take the c-train.  Sitting in close proximity with total strangers is interesting.  As we ride I study the people around me.  From the man with the sun-warn face, ripped jeans and work boots, to the prim-looking woman reading a romance novel.  They are all so different.  I wonder what stories they would have to tell.

When we arrive, we are greeted by a host of sights and smells.  Olympic Plaza is bustling with activity. We walk past dozens of vendors selling an eclectic mix of delicious smelling food and finally settle on one of the cement benches that ring the perimeter of the plaza.  It is exciting to be among hundreds of other people, all of us here for the same reason-- to listen and enjoy.  I find that I am not grumpy or anxious around this group.  The stresses of the week seem to be forgotten or at the very least, set aside.  I soak this in like a sponge and am really glad I made the effort to get out.  This is much better than the couch.

It begins to rain, so we pop up our umbrella and huddle beneath it. We listen to two bands, but the country-bumpkin in me is more entertained by the people around us.  I notice a young couple that looks like they are on their first date. A shoeless young woman doesn’t appear to mind the rain and is completely absorbed in tossing and catching a hula hoop.  Another guy is trying hard to convince a group of females to come to an amazing house party later that evening.  But the most entertaining is a rather short man who reminds me of a cross between Kevin James and Jeremy Piven.  He is holding a can of beer in one hand and, with a huge smile on his face is jumping into the huge puddles of water with as much force and childish glee as he can muster.  Part of me wants to join him.  Twenty years ago, I probably would have.    

Finally, after what seems like an age has passed, Feist appears and we make our way to the stage and slosh through the deepening puddles to get a better view.  I’m fiercely afraid of any kind of public speaking/performing.  Even a small speech or comment at a staff meeting makes me break into a sweat.  So I am always amazed at how effortless performers make it look.  She commands the stage and it is obvious she loves what she is doing.  

After a while, I look at my watch and realize it’s getting late—10:00 p.m.!  A few years ago my night would just have begun.  But my body’s internal clock says otherwise.  My husband agrees and we hop back on the train.

The evening seems to have drawn the weirdos out of the woodwork.  This is an entirely new face of the city and it is both amusing and a little disconcerting.  A man gets on alone and storms up the aisle muttering something to himself, swinging his arms around at invisible demons.  I feel the air move as his hand swats the space just above my head.  He settles in a few rows ahead of us.  I hope that whoever he is talking to doesn’t make him angrier.  A couple of inebriated friends wobble on board and are consoling each other, as drunken people often do after a night of reveling when they are coming down off their high.  There are a lot of “I love you man”, and “you are awesome,” comments being passed back and forth. 

My husband and I share a smile.  We are content to sit in silence, digesting the evening and enjoying each other’s company.

Eventually, we get to our stop, and travel south to our quiet town.  I am still tired, yet I feel refreshed.  It feels like I have splashed cool water on my face after a long hot day.

I want to do something like this again.  But right now, the hour is late and the couch is calling.

My TV Diet

I have always been painfully aware that I watch too much TV.  I often catch myself sitting in front of the tube scrolling through multitudes of channels with no particular destination in mind.  I come out of my TV fugue, and realize I’ve been sitting there for a couple of hours.  The guilt that accompanies this gigantic waste of time settles in and I go to bed feeling like I ate an entire box of chocolates in one sitting.

I wanted to do something about it and decided to try going cold turkey for one week. So for seven days, I did not watch a single commercial, program, movie or news clip.  I knew this was going to be difficult because television has been a part of my life since I can remember.

As a child, I was a latchkey kid.  My mom was the sole provider and had to work.  So I grew up with the TV as my babysitter.  Back then, I had a total of three channels to watch: CBC, 2&7 and CTV.  It’s amazing now with hundreds of channels that are available, that I could spend hours watching just three.  But I did.  I watched so much TV that I could list all the names, and times of the shows that was on from 3:30 in the afternoon until 11 at night.  I remember that the Flintstones were on at 4 pm, and Bewitched was on at the same time.  (My sister and I used to fight over which program we would get to watch. My preference was Fred and Barney.)  I was a dedicated Young and Restless fan from an early age, and count it as one of my guilty pleasures today.  But my favorite show came on at 5:30 everyday.  Three’s Company.  I loved Jack, Janet and Chrissie. I can say with 100 percent certainty that I watched every single episode of all eight seasons. 

Television was my constant companion. It was there when I needed it, never talked back and always entertained me.

Years later, I found my habit almost unchanged.  As an adult, having a set in my home was akin to having a stove or fridge.  It was a necessity.

Recently however, I noticed that an evening of TV watching left me feeling lethargic and groggy.  I became angry with myself for allowing something to creep into my life and become such a time-waster.

So, on a quiet Wednesday night, I shut it off with mixed emotions.  How would I feel?  What would I do with all that extra time I was hoping I would gain from it?

The next morning, I almost forgot about my TV diet and reached for the remote to catch the news.  I didn’t realize how automatic and habit forming it had become.  My family and I prepared for school and work in an unsettling silence.  Later that night, as I prepared supper, made lunches and went about my other nightly duties, I felt lost. I was missing something.  It was almost as if I had my arm cut off and was having phantom limb sensations.  I realized it was the noise.  The sounds emanating from my electronic companion were absent.  The TV stood like a chalkboard in the corner of our living room, dark and silent. It was painful.  It was also lonely. 

Although I had made this vow, my family had not.  While they settled in front of the television, I banished myself to other rooms in the house.  I was determined not to succumb to the mind numbing effects of the moving pictures. 

So in the quite of my room, I settled in with a book I had been meaning to read for months.  It was gratifying to be able to spend that time doing something I have always loved and valued.  Suddenly, other possibilities opened up.  Things that I had been neglecting to do because of my addiction to TV.  My kids.  When was the last time I intentionally spent one-on-one time with them?  Other than driving them to school and their activities, our time was spent mostly in front of the TV.  I was ashamed.  So that week, they were delighted when I asked them to come out and shoot baskets, go for a walk or play a board game.  For the first time in ages, they had a mom who was engaged.

It felt amazing.  I was invigorated and determined to jam as much into this newly discovered time as possible. 

But it was at night, after my husband and kids went to bed when temptation reared it’s ugly head.  I am a night owl and have always enjoyed my time in front of the TV watching The Big Bang Theory, The Walking Dead, Madmen or Survivor to name just a few.  The house was to quiet.  Although I could read my book, it was sound that I craved.  I turned to my iPad and after some researching, found a podcast that interested me.  For the rest of the week, I fell into a routine of flopping onto the couch and listening to the latest news and tips about my other passion, photography.  I imagined myself in the days before TV sitting around the radio, while the fireplace crackled in the corner.

The days went by quicker than I thought.  The struggle I assumed I would have didn’t gather steam or become unbearable.  In fact, an unexpected peacefulness settled over me.

Since then, I have taken to turning the television off more often. Instead I listen to music, read a book, write or spend more meaningful time with my family.

My TV diet has opened up a world of possibilities.  I intend to explore them thoroughly. 

Stepping Out

My alarm shocks me out of a foggy slumber at 5:15 in the morning and I wonder how I am going to make the leap from comatose to fully conscious and running in less than an hour.

I am lying in bed telling myself that it’s only two a.m. and I have plenty of time before my first foray into the world of early morning runs.  (I removed my ancient digital alarm clock last year in an attempt to stop myself from looking at the little red numbers every hour.)  So I opt to use my cell phone instead.  When its alarm starts chirping, I begin an argument with myself as to the validity of my decision to take on what I have viewed for years as an absurd and ridiculous time at which to exercise.  I wonder how the human body can go from complete rest to complete mobility before the sun even peeks over the horizon.  My body at least, doesn’t seem capable.  It would be like turning on the motor of the old AMC Pacer I drove in college on a -30 degree morning and immediately shifting into drive.

I sit on the edge of my bed for a few minutes before trudging to the dresser and climbing into my running gear. On the way down to the kitchen I look at my phone:  5:25.  I have just enough time to have a cup of coffee before stepping out.  If I were a super, ultra marathon-running, protein/carb junkie, I would have probably ditched the coffee and gone with something a little more user friendly.  Unfortunately, this user can handle only one thing upon rising before the sun comes up and that is caffeine.

I sit in a stupor, sipping away and watch as my dog dozes in front of the fire.  Even the dog knows it’s too early for this nonsense.  Finally, I think my body might actually be up for this task and I slip on my jacket and shoes and head out.

It’s one of those rare southern Alberta mornings when the fog has settled and the streets are shining with moisture.  The sight and smell reminds me of the West Coast. I imagine tall sweeping cedars and the crash of waves as they hit the beach.  Suddenly, I am invigorated and actually excited to be out this early.

I realize that I am not the first person to try this.  In fact, I assume that the majority of runners actually do this on a fairly regular basis.  But for me this is completely new.  My running times are usually closer to noon.  I have decided that this is the year to step out of my comfort zone and push myself in uncomfortable directions.  It’s perfect.

I set off into the mist.  I have to adjust my usual route because unlit pathways and slippery surfaces makes for a bad combination.   So I run down evenly lit residential streets.  I’m surprised at how good my body feels.  The pain I thought would come is absent.   

Normally, I plug in my iPod and use songs from Maroon 5, Green Day and a few other tunes to push through the miles. Sometimes, even a little bit of vintage Kenny Rogers keeps my pace up.  But this morning, I decide to ditch the music and am glad I did.  As I run, I become more attuned to my surroundings.  I am witness to a town coming to life. Lights blink on and the comforting smell of pancakes permeates the air. Cars are started and some are already on the road.  I feel a sudden kinship with these strangers. Like we are all on the same team, going to work, living our lives.  I become absorbed in this observance of the human machine as it slowly winds up for another day. 

The miles zip by.  Before I know it I am standing in front of my home.

I have been running down the same streets for many years.  Yet I am pleasantly surprised to find that those same roads are cast in an entirely new and engaging light on a dark, misty morning. Streets on which I have walked, run, biked and driven down countless times look different somehow.  Almost as though each home I pass has transformed and there is something new to look at.   It’s refreshing.

I am inspired by these discoveries and plan on venturing out at this time more often.  Some like to view trying new things as stepping out of their comfort zone.  I guess I did that.  Even if it was more like gingerly sidling over to the edge.

I plan on trying many new things this year.  Writing this blog is one of them.  I am encouraged by this first step and can’t wait to take many more.