It's A Fine Line

Meet my two new best friends.....or arch nemeses (that's plural for nemesis - I looked it up!) Foam rollers.

Given that I have the same amount of muscle attached to shorter bones (or so I've been told), it is really hard to get a decent stretch, so apparently I go about with my muscles constantly tight, regardless of how much I try and stretch.

These foam rollers are an absolute godsend! The snap, crackle and pop coming out of my joints and ligaments when I use them are music to my ears!

Running and exercise junkies will know what I mean when I say that there's good pain when I use these little babies. I know what Chrissie Amphlett  was singing about when she belted out "It's a fine line between pleasure and pain!" 

Don't I know it, sister!

Foam Rollers. Get one. Do yourself a favour and get two!

Winter

Winter is well and truly here. With it has come shorter daylight hours and longer nights. As a result, it's still dark when my alarm wakes me at 5:30 am. It's even dark at six. Call me a wuss but I'm not too crazy about running the streets when it's still dark, even in the morning. This means that I usually wait until 6:30 or 7:00am before I hit the road and that puts me behind the eight-ball if I want to do a good run and still get to work on time. Good runs during winter usually get postponed until the weekend, otherwise it's fast fives and sprints which I absolutely loathe. I'm trying to like them, but the feeling of out of control breathing at the moment is not my most favorite thing.

The only time I really get out early in the morning is on a Tuesday when I go swimming. I'm normally in the pool at 6:00am and then out again an hour later. Swimming makes running feel like a walk in the park.

I'm trying to remember what I did last winter and the winter before. Was there lots of running? How did I stay fit? What do all you other runners do? To compensate I'm walking to the train station, catching an earlier train and then walking the 2km from the station in the city to my workplace. I guess anything is better than nothing, right?

This body shape has changed. I'm getting used to having legs like tree trunks. Sometimes the muscle underneath my skin surprises me. I catch a glimpse in the mirror and the leanness of my torso catches me off guard.  I eat like a horse. I love to eat breakfast after a morning run. It's like the best food ever invented. I'm surprised sometimes at the volume of food I can pack away.

I often say that one of the best things about running and swimming is how I feel when it's over - when the heart is still pounding and the muscles are aching, and you know you're done. It's over. You can rest. Adrenaline is still pumping and I feel so good, so alive, so invigorated.  That's the feeling I'm addicted to. That's the drug I keep coming back to. And it's like I've conquered something, achieved something, beaten something.

My next race will be a 10 kilometer run in July. I know I'm ready. I can't wait.

Oops moments

Yes, I have them too.

I was taking a couple of my tribe to a birthday party on Saturday. As I slowed to stop at a set of traffic lights I noticed a sign that said there would be highway collectors ahead. You know...people collecting for a charity. I think this one was for a local Youth Support Centre. I'm not adverse to donating some coins to charities, but my purse was on the floor.

However, as I came up to the lights I saw what I thought was a little kid about the age of six, dressed in reflective gear also collecting with the group. I announced, "Aww....I want to give some money to the little dude!" so I had my daughter pick up my purse and hand me my wallet so I could take out some change.

The "Kid" saw me as I wound down my window. I said "Hi" and he answered "Hi" back.

"Gee he's got a deep voice for a kid. Maybe he's got a cold"

He said "Thanks" as I put the change into the tin.....and that's when I noticed his hands.

Oops! That kid wasn't a kid. He was a young adult. Sometimes I am a little slow on the uptake. The voice should have been enough.

Cardinal Sin. I, a short statured adult, mistook a short statured adult for a kid. He obviously did not have achondroplasia like me. He was well proportioned, just very, very small and young looking.

Oops moments. I have them....and now have a little more understanding towards others who sometimes mistake me for a child.

Identifiers and hashtags

For the love of Blog if there's one thing that really gets this girl a wee bit frustrated it's the overuse of hashtags!

Look, I kind of get it. You use hashtags as a means of categorising a post, a photo and an idea so that when other people are looking for similar posts, photos and ideas they can search using the hashtag they're interested in and, bingo! There you go! A whole pile of relevant (and often irrelevant) stuff to trawl through. It's quick, it's easy and sometimes easier than Googling.

But lately I've been seeing a lot of hashtags in relation to the word dwarf  and it's making me do a #headdesk and #facepalm at the very sight of it.

For the purposes of not being trawled by hashtag users I'm going to write a general list here (some made up, some not) without the hashtag symbol so you'll see the object of my ire.

Hashtag:

Dwarfproblems

Dwarfkickingass

Healthydwarf

Fitdwarf

Prouddwarf

Dwarfconqueringtheks

Dwarfstrength

Sexydwarf

Grumpydwarf

Sleepydwarf

Dwarfonamission

Seriousdwarf

Gaydwarf

Dwarfparty

Dwarfhittingthetown

Thisdwarfiskickinggoals

Get the picture?

I totally understand, accept and applaud everyone who embraces their short stature. I do. I too am in a place where I love being in my own skin and I celebrate this body I'm in and love all the experiences it's given me. I have met the most incredible people and done some amazing things that I may not have done if I missed out on the random mutation that resulted in achondroplasia. 

But...

It's not my identifier. It's the genetic anomaly that makes up my physical stature. It's part of who I am physically but achondroplasia/short stature/dwarfism is not me. It doesn't come into play with everything I do. If I'm eating a healthy meal or running ten kilometres or doing my grocery shopping or paying my taxes there's not a hashtag in front of it to identify that there's something unique about me doing it simply because I have achondroplasia. I'm simply getting out there and living.

Actually, I don't really give my dwarfism much of a thought most of the time - unless I am writing this blog or doing some public speaking or seeing a medical specialist. That's when I do a lot of thinking about it. 

I'm not ashamed of it; not by any means. In fact, especially since taking the time to care for and appreciate this body I've had a newfound sense of pride in it's strength and the way it just keeps on keeping on even as Father Time marches across my face and makes these joints a little more stiff as the years go by. 

I am not ashamed to go out in public, despite society's curiosity and occasional rudeness. I speak openly to others about dwarfism, answering questions and explaining issues involved. I enter into discussions surrounding disability, inclusion and diversity. 

But I don't constantly refer to myself as a dwarf and I am baffled and curious regarding those like me who do. It's not that I disagree with it...I'm just sincerely curious about the reasons why they do. I'm told that they're proud to have dwarfism. Maybe I can relate to that in the way I am proud to be an independent woman, a mother and a runner.

But I don't have the same pride in being a dwarf because I don't see it as something that defines me - in the same way that my hazel eyes and brownish-greyish hair don't define me as a person. My height isn't me. My dwarfism isn't me.

It's just part of what I look like.

Does that make sense?

I think Lena Dunham says it all quite succinctly actually.....

Image source

Celebrity Service Announcement

Dear every TV star, Child Entertainer, Rock Star and Personality that were part of my formative years and reckless youth.

You are all officially on notice.

Stop it right now.

You've all gotta hang in there a bit longer, ok? At least another twenty years. At least. 

It's all getting a bit much, you know. I turn on the news or log onto Facebook and I hear that another one of you have gone on to that big Maltshop in the sky unexpectedly.

Ok...so for some of you it may not have been so unexpected...but you're all still going waaaay too early. Living only until your fifties or early sixties is not cool you know.

Rik Mayall...you old anarchist you...56! What's that about? You know, I quote you a fair bit. 

"Snotface! Wake up!"

"Shit yourself?"

"Does anyone here like The Human League?"

"Great joke, Your Majesty!"

So many faces and voices from my growing up years gone. I don't think I can take another one today. 

For all you new kids on the block, how about you study some of the oldies who kicked on for the longest time and discover their secrets to longevity?  Take a look at the lives of George Burns, Mickey Rooney, Betty White, Dick Van Dyke and all those people. Some of their stuff might surprise you. They say smoking's bad for you but did anyone ever see George Burns without a cigar? 

Vale Rik Mayall. Your leaving took me off guard.

Rik - The Young Ones

Rik - Drop Dead Fred

Rik Mayall

In which she danced, Skyped and performed all in the one day

Sunday.

I don't know if Sunday is actually the seventh day where God was reported to have rested from his work or if Sunday is actually the first day of the week so it's all hands on deck and let's get this party started. In my case, last Sunday was a crackingly busy day where I was supposed to be in three places at once. No rest for the wicked so they say, which means that somewhere back in the days of yore I possibly did something positively evil. *insert maniacal cackle here*

Seriously though, regardless of the fact that super busy days are not amongst my most favourite there's something about them that makes me feel alive and purposeful. And, if I really want to be honest, two of the three major things I did on Sunday were things I was really happy and excited about.

The first was a rehearsal with the Weave Movement Theatre over in the central northern suburbs of Melbourne. I was going to talk about Weave in detail in this post but feel that it deserves a more indepth post in it's own right so for now I'll just say that I am so honored to be a part of such an amazing ensemble. It's been nothing short of joy to explore movement and dance with the group and I find that each time I do I come away feeling energised, inspired and thoughtful. I was disappointed to have to leave early but I had already indicated to another group that I wanted to be a part of a Skype meeting to discuss some upcoming workshops and needed to go before rehearsal had finished.

The Skype meeting...........

I think this was my frustration for the day. I found myself wishing that I hadn't dobbed myself in to be a part of the discussion, even though the topic was something I have been passionate about for a very long time and was looking forward to getting my teeth into it and being part of instigating some change.

Alas, no.

Sometimes, I feel as though I'm the crazy salmon trying to swim up Niagra Falls when it comes to certain groups - groups that I have been a "part" of all my life and yet have never really felt a part of things. The group has it's own "culture" as it were and it is so deeply, deeply ingrained that I cannot ever see it changing. I came away from the Skype meeting feeling extremely lost and wondering why on earth I bother even trying to contribute. Still, I feel as though I should still keep plugging away doing the things I do and contributing where I can in the hope that the results will speak for themselves.

And speaking of speaking, Sunday night was all about that! 

A couple of weeks ago I was invited to be one of the guest writers to do a reading of their works at the Writeability Salon at the Wheeler Centre for the Emerging Writers Festival. Sunday was the big event and so it was with excitement and great trepidation that I joined four other writers with disabilities hosted by Carly Findlay at The Wheeler Centre.

Back row: Carly, Fiona, Sam
Front: Giovanni, Michelle, me, Jax, Kate

Let me say that it was such an honour to be up there amongst such fabulous, talented writers, each writing passionately from their own experience. I always come away so enthused after events such as this and spurred on towards taking my own writing further and exploring my own creativity.

I read from my piece It's all fun & games until someone loses an eye. I wasn't prepared for how vulnerable I felt afterwards. It's a very exposing piece, I guess, and I did feel very exposed after getting up and virtually saying to a roomful of people, "I was a bully." I thought a lot about it whilst driving home after the event. It was cleansing too in a way - as though those times from way back then no longer had a hold on me. I guess if you recognise something, own it and learn from it you free yourself from the guilt that holds you to ransom otherwise. 

A group of us went out for a meal afterwards, riding the adrenaline and euphoria of a job well done. It was so lovely to connect with new people and discuss our own experiences and writing journey. I think we were the loudest table at the pub! I loved every second of it and have made new connections as a result. 

I feel as though I've found a place of likeminded people where I fit - people who tell it like it is; not sugar coating things behind forced positivity but who speak about their experience with passion, whether it be with joy, sadness, rage, humour or sensuality; inviting others in. I've found a place where I feel safe to explore my own self and, on reflection, pride at being able to identify as a person with a disability. Is "this" a disability in the truest sense of the word? I don't know, but I don't shy away from the word. I'm keen to explore this notion further.

And finally, I guess that's what Life At My Level is about for me. 

The weekend that was

I write this in the relative comfort of my seat on the train after the mad dash of "Oh-shit-I'd-better-run-because-if-I-don't-get-this-one-I'm-gonna-be-late!" And "Oh-damn-WHY-didn't-I-top-up-my-Myki-on-Thursday-night?" Good news is that I both topped up my Myki and caught the train in the nick of time so you can all relax because the story had a happy ending.

I had a fabulous weekend. It was the weekend I've needed for a while. I totally cleared Friday and Saturday of any real responsibilities and ticked off some boxes of things I wanted to get done. 

Friday saw me loading up the car with boxes of books, toys (yes, we still had toys!), appliances we no longer needed and and bags of clothes and taking them down to our local Op Shop that supports the Epilepsy Foundation. Don't you just love the feeling you get after you do that? It's like a cleansing - letting go of excess stuff. I love it. We're all trying to reduce the clutter round these here parts. We've still got a long way to go but I kind of think that any step forward is a positive one. After all that was gone I got into the shed and reorganised the shelves a bit. There's possibly heaps of stuff in there that we could still get rid of but it's a process, right? 

I've been meaning to get my veggie garden sorted out ready for planting winter crops but with everything that's been happening over the past few months the beds have remained empty. It's most definitely on the MUST DO SOON list as I'm really keen to take Rhonda Hetzel's advice and start becoming more self sufficient by planting and harvesting our own vegetables in season. I added some more soil to the beds on Saturday ready for planting next weekend. It will be the Queens Birthday Holiday then and I plan to celebrate by starting to grow things. I'm sure Her Majesty will be pleased. I wonder if she likes pottering in the garden? I've seen her in some pretty full on old lady gardening clobber before. 

Anyhoo! The garden beds are now nice and juicy and ready for some seeds and seedlings to be planted next weekend once I go down to the local Bunnings and get them. 

On Saturday afternoon I laced up my running shoes and took myself for a run down the highway. At first it felt like I'd lost every form of fitness I'd worked so hard at building up and I thought I'd have to call someone to come and pick me up at around the 5k mark. Then I got my second wind as I normally do at the 6k mark and felt amazing. Have I told you before that I love running? Well yeah...I do. 

Honestly, I needed that Friday and Saturday. Life has been just way too full on for my liking lately and I couldn't seem to get motivated for any form of housework, running, training or....anything really! Do you ever get like that? Where you feel as though you're just riding some sort of juggernaut over which you have no control? That's what it felt like for me. Since the X-men Red Carpet gig it's just been go go go so it was nice to just...be. I need that.

Sunday was a completely different story. More on that later.