Death Hot, Nerds in Hiding, Genuine Confidence

Every three years or so, I have to come onto this blog and moan about a spate of 90+ degree weather and justify my my angst by explaining that no one in Seattle has air conditioning. The air conditioning situation is starting to change a little, slowly, but Seattle almost never gets so hot that it’s widely needed and when we get hit with a rare heat wave, it’s always a city-wide mad scramble at Lowe’s for fans and module air-conditioning units. The mother of all heat waves hit Seattle this weekend with record-breaking temps of well over 100 degrees, and all bets are off in the non-air conditioned Typist household. I have been drinking copious amounts of ice water, lolling around playing hidden-object games on my tablet (because I enjoy the low-key torment of their terrible logic and nonsensical plots) and taking sponge baths to avoid having to turn on the shower. It’s slated to hit 110 by tomorrow, which is unheard of and utterly freakish for Seattle. I’m already deep into plotting my work wardrobe for tomorrow. My hospital is air-conditioned, but there looms before me a 15-minute walk home during the peak heat, and I don’t have any breezy little summer dresses or “lightweight” summer work clothes. Again—those are almost never needed, so why would I? The problem with uber-temperate Seattle is that we are never prepared for extreme weather on either end of the spectrum. Every single time it snows or gets legit hot, it’s a city-wide crisis and we all run around with our hair on fire for the duration.

I met up with my new trainer last week for an assessment, and it was fun and energizing. There was just one slightly bizarre moment where she had me walk on the treadmill at a relatively slow pace to ensure that I wasn’t “lying to her about a heart condition”, but other than that, it was great. She’s peppy and enthusiastic and was happy that I came with good form already so she doesn’t have to teach me the basics. I told her that my other trainers nagged me to death about form, so she has them to thank. She then ensured me that she was going to nag me too, because it was “good for me.” And she talked a lot about exercise science. I’ve always had one idea about trainers, which is that they are all naturally athletic, physically gifted, and were universally popular in high school and therefore have no ability to relate to their physically inferior and non-ideal-bodied clients. But now I am beginning to think they are actually just nerds in hiding. Big old freakin’ spectrumy nerds who love nothing more than to geek out about the intricacies of exercise science and hypertrophy and ATP and sliding filaments. You would never know it by looking at my new trainer—she is a classic statuesque pretty blonde with long glossy hair, but believe me, lurking inside of her is an obsessed uber-nerd.

I can’t go into specifics, but I did a thing a few weeks ago that I hadn’t done in a very long time, mostly just as confidence-booster/get back-into-the-saddle type of move. I was happy to find that I did well, better than I had expected, and that I felt genuinely confident and sure of who I was throughout. It didn’t lead to the outcome that I hoped for, but I got really good feedback from it and it may lead to something in the future. I realized that I have the ability to operate from a position of power now, and I have for a long time—I just didn’t realize it because I hadn’t stretched myself in that way for over ten years. I had a bout of real depression recently, but it didn’t feel generalized—it felt specific, like a an urge to make a change. It was my being telling me the gig is up and it’s time to stop hiding and telling myself it’s okay. We’ll see what the future brings.

In honor of our freakish heatwave, enjoy this blast from the past with Bananarama. 80’s hair was so fun!