There was once a time in my life where I enjoyed working out. 7 days a week I was either in the gym or working out in my own at home. I did weights, yoga, pilates, took boot camp classes, ran, walked, and did water aerobics. I would wake up at 5 to take the bus 2 hours to the college for my classes at 7 in the morning. I successfully gained almost no weight while pregnant with my son (and even that was only water weight due to preeclampsia). I was super healthly and I felt really good about myself physically.
Then Hector was deported and everything changed. I was already suffering from postpartum depression but it got much worse. I was exhausted. I had to get a job, which was a full-time, physically demanding CNA job. I worked a lot. It was hard. I picked up a lot of unhealthy CNA habits, like eating fast food everyday and drinking large quanitites of caffeine in the forms of Starbucks and THREE (yes, 3) liters of Pepsi a day. Between the time that Hector was deported and me getting here, I gained about 50 pounds.
Hector is determined to get me back into shape. He keeps pushing me to take Zumba classes down at the community center, but I feel very immodest leaving my house in workout clothes anymore. I have noticed that change since I've stared veiling. I am too uncomfortable to do something like that. However, luckily for me, Mexico comes with it's own built in work out!
Tijuana is all hills. I swear I have to walk uphill both ways (I'm only missing the blinding snow storms!) to get to anything. We live halfway up a hill. I seriously thought that we lived closer to the top, but apparently, there's a ridge and then it continues to go up. I about threw up when I learned that little fact. So, when I walk to Mass every day, I walk downhill. But not downhill on a paved road. No... that is too simple. I have to take "the short cut". Tijuana is filled with these common pathways that are just built into the side of hills, usually out of large rocks or tires. I hate taking these short cuts. They are usually very dirty, filled with broken glass and who knows what else. But they do save a lot of time. So I take them.
Yesterday we needed to walk to the sobreruedas, which is a local open-air market that appears in a different spot of the city every day and everyone seems to know where it is going to be, but I don't know how. On Tuesday and Saturdays, it is on top of the hill, right above us. This is how I learned about the hill above us. It starts by walking uphill to where we buy our drinking water.That itself is awful enough. Then we continue on and cut across an old abandoned property, and up onto another road. Then, if by magic, stairs appear in the side of the hill. People are MEANT to walk this way, which is the most absurd thing to me. At the top of the stairs, you have to continue, but there are only tires and dirt to walk across. You've probably gained about a hundred feet or so at this point...
|And Cecilia had to ask why she needed to wear tennis shoes...|
|Cecilia getting ready to take on the stiars with her Dad. She is much more comfortable with these kinds of things.|
|The view from the top.|