third time around

Done with a good hike and ready to start laundry on this third Furlough Friday. We're in the he-said-she-said, don't-look-at-me, finger-pointing stage of things. It doesn't help to listen to all the bitching and moaning (oh, sorry, "discussion") on Perry and Price. I've already had one person ask me if our school is going to do the "work for free" thing - as in, come to school and hold classes on Fridays, as if furloughs were not taking place. Except for the not getting paid part. My response: We already work for free. When I get to work by 6:30 a.m. to start the school day at 8, I'm working for free. The days I stay till 5, 6 or later, especially now that we're short one day a week, I'm working for free. When I go to the store to get supplies, when I do research or grade papers from home, when I spend time with kids during lunch, when I come in on Saturdays to catch up and get ahead, I am working for free.

So on Furlough Fridays, I am going to do the things I don't have time to do during the week (what with the working for free and all), and at the top of the list is taking care of my family, my home and myself. I'm cleaning, hiking, scheduling doctor appointments, visiting my mom, cooking, and getting a little more sleep.

It's hard on all of us - the kids, most of all, whether or not they realize it yet - to miss these days of school. But until there's a deal on the table where we are paid equitably (we'll never be paid enough, but I'm sure a lot of people feel that way about their jobs no matter the profession), we'll have four-day schoolweeks and different lifestyles. Some of the most important learning should always take place at home, and now there are increased opportunities for this to take place.

From 11/2 - Liking this new(-to-me) blog, Donna in Mililani. Running, studying, traveling ... life is good. The latest entry made me think of Saturday's hike, and how I am paying for it now - the hard run up, and the exhilarating skip-run-trip-fly-nearly-fall down. As I hauled my expanding @ss up the mountain, cursing the switchbacks and grabbing one tiny shortcut (which may have piled seconds on instead of shaving them off, actually), I asked myself for the thousandth time why I do this. Why do I forsake a solid weekend morning's sleep for this pain? Why do I give up a quiet morning at home for the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears? Why do I forgo the treadmill (or even a decent neighborhood sidewalk) for loose gravel, protruding tree roots, surprise new holes in the ground? And why can't I just walk nicely, the way I was taught - why do we have to dart and weave around the civilized hikers and their well-behaved dogs on their way to the same endpoint?

The answer comes in two parts. 1) I won't always be able to do this. I won't always have the ability, or even the desire, to push myself physically and mentally up the mountain. I look at my aunts, still admirably active in the community, and see how they've aged gradually over the years and in some cases so quickly, it seems, in a short span of time. Sometimes, they struggle just to walk. And I can only pray that I'll live life as well as they have, to get to the point where it's a pain to walk - yet you still want to. So while my body allows me to run up Kuliouou Ridge, and then fly back down so fast that every step is a gamble, I'm going to do it. And 2) the life span of a dog is such that no matter how boundless his energy seems now, Kona will not be like this forever, either. The trail is the only place we are ever not locked in a power struggle. We are a perfect match for the short hour and a half or so that it takes us to drive out to HK, scramble up, skip down, and drive home. There is rarely peace between us, but during our hikes, we're pals.

Thought about starting to run Aiea Loop, as it's somewhat flatter (plus the change of scenery might be nice) ... throw me hikey/fitness ideas, please - much as I love the hike, I am in a bit of a rut, and the weather has turned with too much of a chill for swimming.