We were at a wedding, that honestly I was a little anxious to attend. I mean, weddings are this wonderful mix of love and cake and dancing and optimism. And especially this one, which couldn't be happening to two nicer people. It's just that I knew I would see a lot of people from the running community that I hadn't seen in a while (because I haven't done any races in over a year) and I didn't really want to have those what are you running? conversations (because I don't really feel like I belong in those conversations). Sure, I run. It's my favorite thing to do. I have been running for 24 years. But I still don't really feel like I would describe myself as a runner. I think of myself more like a traveler or an explorer or a hugger. Most of the talk in running circles is about how far or fast you ran or how far or fast you want to run or how to run farther and faster. There are a lot of super talented runners doing and writing about all of that. I am not and never will be one of them. My writing about running is more like I was running here and I pet a dog/ate delicious snacks/was having the most random and hilarious conversations/felt a lot of feelings and cried. For me, running has never been about distance or pace. It has been about experience and connection. Connection to others but mostly connection to my body and to my best self.
Thinking back, this was the thing about running (and life) I always felt but couldn't articulate. I just don't care about competition, about measuring and comparing things. Humans do this with practically everything and I don't understand it. My ideal civilization is socialist as fuck. My ideal race is one where a bunch of people get together and run through the woods, crossing the finish line hand in hand and then eating a bunch of food not made from animals. I guess that's not really a race so much as like a big outdoor family reunion or something. Anyway, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with competition. I'm fully aware that I'm the weird one. I think other people know this about me too. My college cross country coach took me aside one day and told me I didn't have to come to practice that week, that I could run whatever I wanted to run. That was my favorite week of the entirety of my college experience. After my sophomore year, when I lost too much weight and couldn't be on the team anymore, I wasn't even sad about it. I actually felt kind of relieved. I liked my teammates and I loved running at practice but I hated the pressure of having to try and score points during races. It ruined running for me. Of course, I was supposed to stop running, per the doctor's orders. But I didn't stop. Because I'm ridiculously stubborn and I hate being told what to do. But mostly because at that point in my life, running was the only thing that actually made me want to be alive. So if I gave that up there would be nothing stopping me from disappearing completely. Running was the thing that made me feel most like myself. The good and the bad, the feelings and the flaws, the long limbs and awkwardness. I could be all the things I am when I was running and there was space for all of them. This jumble of restlessness and ridiculousness in human form suddenly made sense when unleashed on a road or trail. I didn't know all these things at the time. Or I did know them somewhere deep down at the true core of me, but I couldn't have explained it to anyone back then. I'm only finding the words to say it now. I started eating again because I wanted to keep running, to keep exploring the world and what it means to be alive. The older I got, the more space I took up, first physically, but then mentally and emotionally too. I was expanding in all directions. I still am. It is exhilarating and slightly terrifying and I don't know how I ever lived any other way. This process, and the people I have met along the way, are the most sacred things to me. There is no way to measure that. There is no GPS data that can quantify this opening of my mind, this connection to my body, this expansive, limitless feeling in my heart.
But I feel like people don't want to talk about that. It's ok. That's why I'm putting it here. Because it's now too big to keep inside and I have to put it somewhere. And it's true and important for me whether or not anyone else reads it or cares. The funniest thing happened though, at that wedding I was nervous to go to. It was a lovely and heartwarming event, of course. The food was off the charts good. Pete and I danced a ton. Sheila and I sang Lizzo's Truth Hurts to each other outside the barn and then danced and sang when the band inside played it. Several people made comments about me being a good dancer and how awesome it was to see Pete and I dancing. Which was so funny because, in all objectivity, I am NOT a good dancer. Like at all. I am more like Elaine doing the little kicks in that Seinfeld episode. But here's the thing. You don't have to be a good dancer to dance at a party. It's not Dancing With The Stars. All you have to do is move your body and not care what people think about how you move your body. And Friends, I felt fantastic that night. I had my velvet dress and my gold oxfords on and I was full of happiness and vegan cupcakes. I think that is what people must have noticed. That I looked like someone who was having a good time, someone full of joy at having a body and being alive. Because I was having a good time. At a fun party with wonderful people. But also just being myself. My imperfect, weird self. I used to feel bad about the ways I wasn't like other people, like there was something irreparably wrong with me. Now I feel like those are all the things that make me who I am. And who I am is pretty awesome. Not in a way that's faster or smarter or better in any way than anyone else. Believe me, I am very ordinary. Just in a way that's like I'm a unique bundle of atoms and adventure such as has never before existed. And so are you. So are we all. And how terrific is that?! We're not all the same. That's the best part of life. That we're all different, we're all strange in our own ways. You don't have to conform to what everyone else does or thinks or feels or is. You can turn and face your own strange. And see how epic that can be.
I don't know if or when I will run another race. There are definitely places I'd love to run and things I'd love to be able to do. But if I don't end up ever doing them, I'm ok with that too. After 38 years of aliveness, this is the best I've ever felt in my body. My body awareness and posture is the best it's ever been. I am the most unapologetically me I have ever been. It's like I had to learn how to move all over again, in the ways that I was meant to move, after having worked to unlearn all the crap that tried to keep me small, quiet, compliant. I'm still learning and hopefully always will be. I would love to be able to run for the rest of my life. But to do that, I need to run in a way that builds me up, not breaks me down. So that means a lot of rest and food and sleep. It means listening to my own body and not all the other noise out there. It means being grateful for what it can do, not lamenting what it cannot. Still, even if I go into a race without expectations, other people still sometimes put their expectations onto me. I don't think most people are consciously aware of doing this and I know what we project onto others is usually more about us, but I'm still working out how to graciously decline to meet others' expectations. "No thanks, don't put that crap on me" seems kinda rude.
There is a thing people often say at weddings, about how the other person is their rock. I find it really sweet. But honestly I don't think of anyone else as my rock (though I do think of Dwayne Johnson as The Rock). Pete is my life, adventure and dance partner. My friends are some of the most supportive, brilliant, inspiring, wonderful people alive. I feel like my mom loves me more than is humanly possible to love someone. But I am my rock. There is this force within me, this relentless, ridiculous curiosity and compassion, that is stronger than all the doubts and fears and judgments combined. And when I'm not denying or hiding from that inner force, I am an unstoppable dancing weirdo.
Lyric of the moment: "These children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds, are immune to your consultations. They're quite aware of what they're going through..." ~David Bowie "Changes"
From Robot With Love
Friday, November 8, 2019
Transylvania
We had the best time in Transylvania (Romania) in July but I decided I wasn't going to write about it. It's weird: I don't want to feel obligated to write about everything I do. At the same time, I do like having a record of the things I saw and felt and did. Mostly, I have been feeling a lot of guilt that I live a life where I get to vacation and travel while other people live much harder lives and the planet is dying. I don't know what the answer is. I don't want to give up travel, because I really like flying and seeing new places and especially meeting new people. But I also realize I am part of the problem.
So here is a little recap while I try to figure out my angst. The week of July 4th, Pete and I took an overnight flight out of Toronto to Europe. We scored these business class seats that weren't very expensive for some reason. It was mad luxurious. Flight attendants kept giving us drinks and warm towels and tiny soft pretzels (it was a German airline). The seats fully reclined and were so comfortable that I could actually sleep. In my opinion, this is how all air travel should be for everyone. We only had economy plus seats on the flight home and that was far less fancy. I feel like such an ass typing that. Being all like with all my free time and disposable income, I did not enjoy the upgraded seats as much as the seriously upgraded seats as I flew through the air to faraway lands at 500 mph like a fucking magical wizard or some shit. So yeah, I have struggled to write this in a way that doesn't make me sound like Scrooge McDuck. Apologies in advance.
We did the 8 day Transylvania Revealed small group tour through Mr. Tripp with a guide named Alex. We saw so many sites in a short amount of time, which was great, but the best part of any trip is the company and we were so lucky in that regard. Joining Pete and I were Liet, who currently lives in Qatar, and Wendy from Canada. They are the kind of women who say, do and wear what they want and I liked them right away. The tour itinerary pretty much covers all the places we went, so I'm just going to highlight some of my favorite moments and sites.
But first, some historical context. Romania has 3 historical regions: Wallachia, Moldovia and Transylvania. Transylvania is in the center of Romania, surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains (which are full of bears!). Around 82BC it was the Kingdom of Dascia, which was later conquered by the Romans, then invaded by the Visigoths, Huns, and Slavs, then conquered by the Hungarians, then united into Romania in 1918. Romania was occupied by the Soviets after WWII and was under Communist rule from 1947-1989. There was a revolution in 1989, the Communist regime fell and now Romania is democratic and a member of the European Union. When you hear Transylvania, you likely think of Dracula, thanks to the story by Bram Stoker. Some say that Vlad The Impaler was the inspiration for Dracula. Vlad Tepes AKA Vlad III Dracul (so called because his father was a member of the Order of the Dragon, the purpose of which was to defeat the Ottoman Empire) AKA Vlad The Impaler was known for impaling his enemies on stake in the ground, where they were left to die slowly, painfully and publicly. Not a good way to go.
*Bran Castle (Dracula's castle) is a popular tourist site, and well worth seeing, even though Vlad never lived there and Bram Stoker never visited Transylvania.
*Palace of Parliament in Bucharest. It's the second largest (after the Pentagon), heaviest and most expensive administration building. It has 20 floors, 8 of which are underground. Construction began in the 1980s by communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, who wanted to have the hugest Palace of Parliament in the world (because size matters). But it remains unfinished because he was later overthrown and executed. Today it houses the Romanian Senate and Chamber of Deputies. Plus the show Top Gear had an episode where they raced some cars through the underground tunnels.
*Salida Turda (Turda Salt Mine). This was one of my favorite places we went. It's a salt mine that was dug during the Middle Ages and is now an amusement park 120 meters underground! The temperature in the mine is 12°C and the air is salty. It's supposed to be good for your breathing. I was just excited to ride a ferris wheel and go on a boat in an underground lake.
*Sighișoara is one of the best preserved medieval towns in Europe and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It's the birthplace of Vlad, who would later go on to rule Wallachia and do all the murdery impaling. But don't hold that against it. Sighișoara is a beautiful fairytale-esq city with colorful buildings and cobblestone streets.
*Viscri, site of another fortified church (we saw a lot of those) and another UNESCO site. Also, Prince Charles has a house there. But my favorite part was this stray dog that was following us around because I fed him some crackers (From my stash of purse snacks. Highly recommend purse snacks. It's a good way to make friends abroad. If those friends are dogs. Which honestly are the best kind of friends). So many of my vacation photos are just pictures of cute dogs I saw/pet.
*Libearty Sanctuary. Another one of my favorite things we got to do, though it was also very sad. The sanctuary is home to 99 bears who have been rescued from circuses, zoos and captivity. They have health and mental problems so they wouldn't be able to survive back in the wild, but here they are no longer in cages and are free to roam the sanctuary land, which is bordered by electric fences. We heard so many sad stories here. Some of the bears had spine and leg problems from being forced to ride bikes in circuses and others were so used to being cooped up in cages that they would just walk in circles out of stress. The bears aren't fed by hand. Instead, the workers throw the food over the fences in different locations every day so the bears can learn to be semi-wild again.
*The cable car ride in Brasov. Alex was taking Liet and Wendy to another fortified church but I really wanted to ride the cable car up to the Brasov sign (it's like the Hollywood sign in LA) so Alex dropped Pete and I off there. Plus by this point I was a bit weary of murder castles and churches and the entirety of human history just being about killing each other. History is depressing, then you realize how little has changed and how we're still murdering and oppressing each other and it's just too heavy sometimes. I wish we'd had more time in Brasov because I really would have loved to hike the trails there. I did find a trail while running from our hotel one morning and I ran a bit there, but there are so many awesome trails in Romania I would love to go back and do a running tour there someday.
*Peles Castle. It's this ostentatious (to my taste), over the top castle built by King Carol I starting in 1873. It was the first European castle with electricity and used to be the summer house of the Romanian Royal Family. There's a lot of fancy old rich people stuff inside and a shit ton of lion statues, so if you like those things, this is the castle for you.
So those are some of the highlights but the best parts of this trip were all the conversations we had with Wendy, Liet and Alex about history, travel and life. My favorite part of travel is meeting new people and hearing about their lives. Plus talking to fellow travel lovers, especially awesome solo women travelers, is the best and always makes me even more wanderlusty. And anywhere I get to go with Pete is always a good time.
Lyric of the moment: "There's a lot of vampires out there, hanging out to grab your soul. They don't live in Transylvania. They don't live in rock 'n' roll." ~Adam Ant "Vampires"
So here is a little recap while I try to figure out my angst. The week of July 4th, Pete and I took an overnight flight out of Toronto to Europe. We scored these business class seats that weren't very expensive for some reason. It was mad luxurious. Flight attendants kept giving us drinks and warm towels and tiny soft pretzels (it was a German airline). The seats fully reclined and were so comfortable that I could actually sleep. In my opinion, this is how all air travel should be for everyone. We only had economy plus seats on the flight home and that was far less fancy. I feel like such an ass typing that. Being all like with all my free time and disposable income, I did not enjoy the upgraded seats as much as the seriously upgraded seats as I flew through the air to faraway lands at 500 mph like a fucking magical wizard or some shit. So yeah, I have struggled to write this in a way that doesn't make me sound like Scrooge McDuck. Apologies in advance.
We did the 8 day Transylvania Revealed small group tour through Mr. Tripp with a guide named Alex. We saw so many sites in a short amount of time, which was great, but the best part of any trip is the company and we were so lucky in that regard. Joining Pete and I were Liet, who currently lives in Qatar, and Wendy from Canada. They are the kind of women who say, do and wear what they want and I liked them right away. The tour itinerary pretty much covers all the places we went, so I'm just going to highlight some of my favorite moments and sites.
But first, some historical context. Romania has 3 historical regions: Wallachia, Moldovia and Transylvania. Transylvania is in the center of Romania, surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains (which are full of bears!). Around 82BC it was the Kingdom of Dascia, which was later conquered by the Romans, then invaded by the Visigoths, Huns, and Slavs, then conquered by the Hungarians, then united into Romania in 1918. Romania was occupied by the Soviets after WWII and was under Communist rule from 1947-1989. There was a revolution in 1989, the Communist regime fell and now Romania is democratic and a member of the European Union. When you hear Transylvania, you likely think of Dracula, thanks to the story by Bram Stoker. Some say that Vlad The Impaler was the inspiration for Dracula. Vlad Tepes AKA Vlad III Dracul (so called because his father was a member of the Order of the Dragon, the purpose of which was to defeat the Ottoman Empire) AKA Vlad The Impaler was known for impaling his enemies on stake in the ground, where they were left to die slowly, painfully and publicly. Not a good way to go.
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| Before FB you could spy on your neighbors by looking out these tiny eye-shaped windows |
*Bran Castle (Dracula's castle) is a popular tourist site, and well worth seeing, even though Vlad never lived there and Bram Stoker never visited Transylvania.
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| Bran Castle |
*Palace of Parliament in Bucharest. It's the second largest (after the Pentagon), heaviest and most expensive administration building. It has 20 floors, 8 of which are underground. Construction began in the 1980s by communist dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu, who wanted to have the hugest Palace of Parliament in the world (because size matters). But it remains unfinished because he was later overthrown and executed. Today it houses the Romanian Senate and Chamber of Deputies. Plus the show Top Gear had an episode where they raced some cars through the underground tunnels.
*Salida Turda (Turda Salt Mine). This was one of my favorite places we went. It's a salt mine that was dug during the Middle Ages and is now an amusement park 120 meters underground! The temperature in the mine is 12°C and the air is salty. It's supposed to be good for your breathing. I was just excited to ride a ferris wheel and go on a boat in an underground lake.
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| Underground amusement park! |
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| Being weird on a salt covered ferris wheel underground. As you do. |
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| We're in a boat! |
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| If you're not laughing at the cropping of this selfie, we can't be friends. Just kidding, but come on. It says turd behind us. |
*Sighișoara is one of the best preserved medieval towns in Europe and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It's the birthplace of Vlad, who would later go on to rule Wallachia and do all the murdery impaling. But don't hold that against it. Sighișoara is a beautiful fairytale-esq city with colorful buildings and cobblestone streets.
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| That view though |
*Viscri, site of another fortified church (we saw a lot of those) and another UNESCO site. Also, Prince Charles has a house there. But my favorite part was this stray dog that was following us around because I fed him some crackers (From my stash of purse snacks. Highly recommend purse snacks. It's a good way to make friends abroad. If those friends are dogs. Which honestly are the best kind of friends). So many of my vacation photos are just pictures of cute dogs I saw/pet.
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| My dog friend |
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| That's Prince Charles' blue house in the background |
*Libearty Sanctuary. Another one of my favorite things we got to do, though it was also very sad. The sanctuary is home to 99 bears who have been rescued from circuses, zoos and captivity. They have health and mental problems so they wouldn't be able to survive back in the wild, but here they are no longer in cages and are free to roam the sanctuary land, which is bordered by electric fences. We heard so many sad stories here. Some of the bears had spine and leg problems from being forced to ride bikes in circuses and others were so used to being cooped up in cages that they would just walk in circles out of stress. The bears aren't fed by hand. Instead, the workers throw the food over the fences in different locations every day so the bears can learn to be semi-wild again.
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| Rescued bear |
*The cable car ride in Brasov. Alex was taking Liet and Wendy to another fortified church but I really wanted to ride the cable car up to the Brasov sign (it's like the Hollywood sign in LA) so Alex dropped Pete and I off there. Plus by this point I was a bit weary of murder castles and churches and the entirety of human history just being about killing each other. History is depressing, then you realize how little has changed and how we're still murdering and oppressing each other and it's just too heavy sometimes. I wish we'd had more time in Brasov because I really would have loved to hike the trails there. I did find a trail while running from our hotel one morning and I ran a bit there, but there are so many awesome trails in Romania I would love to go back and do a running tour there someday.
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| We got to go up behind that sign. It was pretty sweet. |
*Peles Castle. It's this ostentatious (to my taste), over the top castle built by King Carol I starting in 1873. It was the first European castle with electricity and used to be the summer house of the Romanian Royal Family. There's a lot of fancy old rich people stuff inside and a shit ton of lion statues, so if you like those things, this is the castle for you.
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| Super fancy castle |
So those are some of the highlights but the best parts of this trip were all the conversations we had with Wendy, Liet and Alex about history, travel and life. My favorite part of travel is meeting new people and hearing about their lives. Plus talking to fellow travel lovers, especially awesome solo women travelers, is the best and always makes me even more wanderlusty. And anywhere I get to go with Pete is always a good time.
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| Castle security |
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| Best travel crew |
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| Fountains in Bucharest. I stayed up late for this and it was worth it. |
Lyric of the moment: "There's a lot of vampires out there, hanging out to grab your soul. They don't live in Transylvania. They don't live in rock 'n' roll." ~Adam Ant "Vampires"
Thursday, April 25, 2019
Hibernation. Sloth sleuthing. Things I didn't want to write.
I've often wished to be taken in by a sleuth of hibernating bears (A group of bears is called a sloth or sleuth. True story. Words are fantastic.). And we would hide out in a luxury cave eating, sleeping and being detectives. Because winter is the worst and Bearlock Holmes is the best. But alas, I have yet to receive an invitation to the sloth sleuth party. I have, however, found myself in the company of a tower of giraffes (A group of giraffes is called a tower. Unsolicited advice: a good thing to do if you are ever feeling sad/mad/bad/not glad/dissed by some cad/like you've been had, is look up the names of groups of animals). Giraffe Tower and I spent much of the winter hibernating inside the house, watching true crime and untrue crime and Catfish the TV show (Coincidentally, the Tower likes all the same terrible streaming shows I do). And cracking tough cases like who left the trail of jelly blobs on the counter (Pete) and who left the empty box of Sudafed inside the closet (Also Pete. Admittedly, the suspect list was very short). Now that it's officially spring, by which I mean we've actually had a sunny, semi-warm day or two, maybe I will come out of hibernation. Though I'm not sure I'm quite ready yet.
I did not actually intend to hibernate. Generally, I like going out and doing things and seeing people. But I also really, really like being at home alone. Especially when I don't feel that great. I can't remember when the pain first started, it was so long ago. It was merely a dull ache at first. In my back, mostly. Sometimes my hips and knees joined in. Just for fun I guess. It felt like muscle soreness after a very long race. But that feeling usually subsides in a day or two. And this pain persisted and increased in intensity. At first, I just endured it. It wasn't debilitating, in that I could still go about my normal life and do most of the things I wanted to do, albeit more painfully than I would have liked. But it was annoying and wearying. I didn't know if it was physical or emotional pain, stress-induced or grief-induced, or some combination of everything all at once. On some level, I felt as if I deserved it, like this was my penance for a wasted youth spent shrinking myself, starving myself of nutrients and affection and joy. But I'm older and maybe a bit wiser now, so I was just like, no, that thought is mean and untrue, no one deserves to be in pain. On another level, I felt like maybe it was grief and genetics, because back, hips and knees are where dad was always in pain. He self-medicated his pain with vodka. When I was young, I self-medicated my pain with anorexia and excessive exercise. It works until it doesn't. Well, it seems to work but in reality we were just avoiding the pain instead of alleviating it. I say this without any judgment. You do what you have to do to get by. But there are ways of getting through life that don't involve hurting others or self-destruction (you might think self-destruction doesn't hurt others, but it does. It hurts everyone who loves you).
Being alive is beautiful and amazing and challenging and painful. Life is hard for everyone. (For some, that hardship is further compounded by systemic oppression). I'm very lucky to be in good health and that my problems are minor compared to what others have to face. Still, the perpetual physical pain was starting to get to me. I didn't want to avoid it or endure it. I wanted to figure out the cause of it and hopefully find a solution. The process has been frustrating and challenging, yet so transformative that, while I still have a long way to go, I am almost thankful to have had this experience (Almost. Aches and pains suck and I wouldn't willingly sign up for it. But it has brought me closer to being the person I want to be). I won't say that I've figured it all out, because I haven't and I probably never will. But I have figured out how to go about figuring things out. And they key to that is basically, be curious and be compassionate.
Before I go into all that, I just want to preface this by acknowledging that I am exceedingly privileged. Here's a non-exhaustive list of all the privileges I have: white privilege, thin privilege, economic privilege, cisgender privilege, heterosexual privilege, able bodied privilege. I have health insurance. I am wealthy enough to afford treatments that aren't covered by health insurance (which seem to be the ones that always work best for me). Even the physical pain I experienced, while frustrating and depressing, was mild compared to what many other people experience. I point this out because it's fucked up and unfair and I'm not telling the whole story unless I include this information.
Being alive is beautiful and amazing and challenging and painful. Life is hard for everyone. (For some, that hardship is further compounded by systemic oppression). I'm very lucky to be in good health and that my problems are minor compared to what others have to face. Still, the perpetual physical pain was starting to get to me. I didn't want to avoid it or endure it. I wanted to figure out the cause of it and hopefully find a solution. The process has been frustrating and challenging, yet so transformative that, while I still have a long way to go, I am almost thankful to have had this experience (Almost. Aches and pains suck and I wouldn't willingly sign up for it. But it has brought me closer to being the person I want to be). I won't say that I've figured it all out, because I haven't and I probably never will. But I have figured out how to go about figuring things out. And they key to that is basically, be curious and be compassionate.
Before I go into all that, I just want to preface this by acknowledging that I am exceedingly privileged. Here's a non-exhaustive list of all the privileges I have: white privilege, thin privilege, economic privilege, cisgender privilege, heterosexual privilege, able bodied privilege. I have health insurance. I am wealthy enough to afford treatments that aren't covered by health insurance (which seem to be the ones that always work best for me). Even the physical pain I experienced, while frustrating and depressing, was mild compared to what many other people experience. I point this out because it's fucked up and unfair and I'm not telling the whole story unless I include this information.
So here's what happened. I spent last year learning to embrace rest and to enjoy being at rest as much as I enjoy being in motion. Rest helped but it didn't solve the problems that had caused the pain in the first place. That's what I spent the winter trying to figure out. I continued to rest and eat and sleep. All the time. As much as I wanted (Outside of work, which for some reason doesn't include nap breaks. Ok, the reason is capitalism. Naps are great. We all know it). I limited my runs to the short, easy, fun variety. I ghosted 3 physical therapists and 2 chiropractors. I feel a little bad about that last part, because I could tell that they were genuinely trying to help. It's just that the exercises they prescribed made me feel even worse and I didn't know how to explain that it wasn't what I needed at all. The diagnosis was basically the same: some kind of biomechanical failure that they would try to forcibly correct with various exercises, most of which only increased my pain and decreased my optimism. My body would inevitably rebel against these exercises because it doesn't like being forced to do things. I am stubborn AF, down to the cellular level. Plus, the body moves as a whole, so focusing on individual body parts is missing the point. A body isn't a simple machine like a car. You can't just be like oh you need a new alternator or carburetor or flux capacitor, problem solved! (clearly I know a lot about auto mechanic-ing). Bodies are amazing - they're weird and complicated. Every one is different and there's still so much we don't understand about them. My primary care physician gave me prescriptions for drugs, which I didn't want and didn't take. She agreed with me that they would just cover up the pain and not actually solve anything, but it seemed like her only options were to prescribe drugs or refer me for tests and/or injections/surgeries, which I also didn't want or need. I did have a minor epiphany in her office though. When I told her I was only running X miles a week, she said "That's a lot." At first I thought no, it isn't. But then it occurred to me: actually, my body was telling me that it was a lot, I just wasn't listening to it. (Note that I haven't included an actual number of miles. That's because I don't want anyone to read it and judge themselves against it, thinking it's a lot or a little, that they should be running more or less. Every body is different. We have different stressors in our lives and we handle them differently. Comparison, to others or to our past selves, is unhelpful and potentially harmful).
Throughout several months of PT and chiropractic appointments, I had been doing Feldenkrais exercises at home, first via YouTube and then The Balanced Runner Online Camp. It was the only thing that made me feel better, so I decided I would cut everything else out and just do that. I wanted to focus on what I knew was helping ease and prevent the pain and eliminate anything else that might be inadvertently impeding my progress. I signed up for one on one lessons with Jae Gruenke, Feldenkrais practitioner and founder of The Balanced Runner. It was expensive. Painfully expensive. I hesitated. I felt guilty about spending that much money on myself. But I was pretty desperate at that point. And two things convinced me to do it. One, I remembered a conversation I had with my dad where he was complaining about paying co-pays for doctors appointments and I had said "Dad, what better way is there to spend your time and money than on feeling better?" Two, I had an initial free consultation with Jae (I was still on the fence at this point) and she said something about how my body was moving in the best way it could. She did not simply point out all the things that were wrong with my form and movement patterns. Instead she asked me a series of questions about how I felt when I ran and what I could sense happening with various body parts. No shade thrown at any of the medical professionals I saw - I could tell they were trying their hardest to be helpful. But the message I was getting from them, well-intentioned as they were, was that my body was wrong and needed fixing. Finally, here was someone saying the opposite, that my body was doing its best with the information it had and we could help it explore more comfortable and efficient ways of moving. That's why Feldenkrais had resonated with me from the very beginning and I knew that this was the (gentle, curious, non-judgmental, hopeful) approach that I needed. PT and chiro felt like exams I was constantly failing. Feldenkrais felt like a treasure hunt where I was discovering fantastic new things about myself in every lesson. The lessons were focused on running movements, and obviously I was hoping it would help me run pain free. But I'm a process person not a results person. And I knew that whether or not it improved my running, Feldenkrais would help me become more connected to and fully at home in my body. That in and of itself was invaluable.
I thought I had made peace with my body years ago. When I stopped focusing on what I looked like or what I weighed and instead ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, based on internal cues instead of external rules. When I stopped focusing on race distances or times and just ran whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, for the joy of movement and exploring the outdoors. I already knew that judging myself or others by appearances or achievements was not in line with my values. But the back pain made me realize I was still judging my body based on its health/abilities and that needed to change. My acceptance of and respect for my body (and all bodies) needs to be unconditional. The white supremacist, patriarchal, capitalist, diet-obsessed culture we live in has created a hierarchy of bodies, as if some bodies are better than others (This is a lie. All bodies are good bodies). Then this false idol of the so-called "ideal body" is used to oppress and profit off people (See the list of books below if you're interested in reading more about this from women far more articulate and knowledgeable than me). Unpacking and challenging internalized fatphobia, racism, sexism, ableism, healthism, etc is lifelong process. I still have much to learn. But once my eyes were opened to all the bullshit lies society inundates us with about how we're supposed to look and act and be, and how harmful that is to everyone, but particularly marginalized groups, I could no longer remain ignorant or complicit. Unintentional harm is still harm.
It's a lot to unlearn. I am still unlearning it. It requires confronting uncomfortable feelings in an open, nonjudgmental way. Feldenkrais helped me approach my physical pain in a similar fashion. The method teaches awareness through mindful movement. There's no stretching or straining. In the lessons, you do only the range of movement that is easy and comfortable for you. I've worked with Jae for several months and I've become so much more connected to and aware of my body parts and how they can move together efficiently. I'd been running with some low grade level of pain for so long that I'd just sort of gotten used to it. After one of the first lessons Jae sent me, I came home crying and Pete thought there was something wrong with me. But I was just so happy to have run a few miles pain-free for the first time in I can't remember how long. I have a lot more to learn, and I still haven't been doing any long distances, but running feels so much more natural and fluid now, like my whole body is moving together harmoniously. I didn't realize how much I had been forcing things before and how much unnecessary effort that was costing me. Some runs are better than others, of course. Because some days I'm more stressed or I haven't slept well or I haven't eaten as much or I have my period (yay so much fun always. sarcasm explosion) or whatever. The difference is I've become so much better at recognizing when something is off and knowing how to give my body/mind whatever is needed, be it nutrients or rest or sleep or saying no to things that I don't want to do.
I still feel aches and pains sometimes. I think that's just part of the experience of aliveness. But it's only on occasion, and not constant anymore. Now I think of pain as a sign, a call for attention and care. It's my body's way of alerting me that my cup is too full, that I'm at my capacity for stressors. That I need to ask questions and figure out where I'm doing too much, either physically, mentally or emotionally. I rest whenever I need to. I try to sleep better, though I am never as good at sleeping as I want to be. I don't push through the pain (and I've unfollowed anything that even hints at a no pain, no gain or similar mentality). I ask my body what it needs. Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I don't understand its language. But I am learning, little by little. To listen instead of ignore. To be curious and compassionate instead of judgmental or shaming. Sometimes I fail and that's ok, I keep trying.
My posture has improved somewhat, but that's a complicated issue. My dad used to encourage me to stand up straight and he'd say "You look like a question mark." It wasn't meant as a criticism. I think it was his way of telling me to stand up for myself, that he was proud of me and I should be proud of myself too. But I was a question mark. I had so many questions. Most people outgrow that toddler phase of asking why about everything. I never did. I didn't know how to be a person in the world. I mean, I knew what kind of person I wanted to be. But I also knew what society expected of me as a woman. And I didn't know how to reconcile the two. I just wanted to be my imperfect human self. I wanted to be a person, not an object or possession. I didn't want to have to owe anyone beauty or thinness or obedience or submission or any of that crap people expect of women. I am a person filled with wildness and weirdness, with strong convictions and sensitive to the suffering of the world. I am sometimes covered in dirt, sometimes covered in dresses. I swear more than the sailor I live with. And I don't care what is or what isn't ladylike because fuck that shit, I'm not here to be ladylike. One day maybe I will have good posture. But I don't think I will ever stop being a question mark. I can't just do things because it's what other people do. I have to ask why and does this align with my values and who profits from this and what are the other options?
So Giraffe Tower and I have been hibernating and Feldenkrais-ing and plumbing the depths of our existential angst or whatever. And mostly avoiding other people, to be honest. It's nothing personal. Either I didn't have the energy to interact with people or I didn't want to burden people with my problems when I know everyone is dealing with their own stuff. Plus, when I have issues to sort out, I need to do it on my own. I need refuge from the noise that is other people's opinions and advice and trying-to-be-helpful-but-unintentionally-making-me-feel-worse. I avoided big group functions, and especially races. The running community is great but it tends to be an environment of constantly doing more and more, whereas I needed to spend some time in a less is more cocoon. Though I feel dramatically better, I'm still working some stuff out and I don't think I'm strong enough yet to withstand people's judgment and comments. Judge away in private if you like, but please don't dump any of that here. I would however, love to hear your own stories, of struggle or success or whatever you want to share. I am always interested in your lives and experiences.
I wrote and re-wrote this many times. I didn't really want to write it at all but I don't want my social media to be a highlight reel, I want it to be real. This is where I've been, where I am and where I'm going. I am imperfect and this is my imperfect life. Maybe some of it will resonate with you, maybe it won't. Either way, thanks for being here. Love from the Tower.
Lyric of the moment: "I'm trying, but I'm graceless. Don't have the sunny side to face this. I am invisible and weightless. You can't imagine how I hate this. Graceless..." ~The National "Graceless"
P.S. For anyone who's interested, I'd highly recommend these books. I found them to be quite life-changing: "Hunger" by Roxanne Gay / "You Have The Right To Remain Fat" by Virgie Tovar / "The Body Is Not An Apology" by Sonya Renee Tayor / "Shrill" by Lindy West.
Throughout several months of PT and chiropractic appointments, I had been doing Feldenkrais exercises at home, first via YouTube and then The Balanced Runner Online Camp. It was the only thing that made me feel better, so I decided I would cut everything else out and just do that. I wanted to focus on what I knew was helping ease and prevent the pain and eliminate anything else that might be inadvertently impeding my progress. I signed up for one on one lessons with Jae Gruenke, Feldenkrais practitioner and founder of The Balanced Runner. It was expensive. Painfully expensive. I hesitated. I felt guilty about spending that much money on myself. But I was pretty desperate at that point. And two things convinced me to do it. One, I remembered a conversation I had with my dad where he was complaining about paying co-pays for doctors appointments and I had said "Dad, what better way is there to spend your time and money than on feeling better?" Two, I had an initial free consultation with Jae (I was still on the fence at this point) and she said something about how my body was moving in the best way it could. She did not simply point out all the things that were wrong with my form and movement patterns. Instead she asked me a series of questions about how I felt when I ran and what I could sense happening with various body parts. No shade thrown at any of the medical professionals I saw - I could tell they were trying their hardest to be helpful. But the message I was getting from them, well-intentioned as they were, was that my body was wrong and needed fixing. Finally, here was someone saying the opposite, that my body was doing its best with the information it had and we could help it explore more comfortable and efficient ways of moving. That's why Feldenkrais had resonated with me from the very beginning and I knew that this was the (gentle, curious, non-judgmental, hopeful) approach that I needed. PT and chiro felt like exams I was constantly failing. Feldenkrais felt like a treasure hunt where I was discovering fantastic new things about myself in every lesson. The lessons were focused on running movements, and obviously I was hoping it would help me run pain free. But I'm a process person not a results person. And I knew that whether or not it improved my running, Feldenkrais would help me become more connected to and fully at home in my body. That in and of itself was invaluable.
I thought I had made peace with my body years ago. When I stopped focusing on what I looked like or what I weighed and instead ate whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, based on internal cues instead of external rules. When I stopped focusing on race distances or times and just ran whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, for the joy of movement and exploring the outdoors. I already knew that judging myself or others by appearances or achievements was not in line with my values. But the back pain made me realize I was still judging my body based on its health/abilities and that needed to change. My acceptance of and respect for my body (and all bodies) needs to be unconditional. The white supremacist, patriarchal, capitalist, diet-obsessed culture we live in has created a hierarchy of bodies, as if some bodies are better than others (This is a lie. All bodies are good bodies). Then this false idol of the so-called "ideal body" is used to oppress and profit off people (See the list of books below if you're interested in reading more about this from women far more articulate and knowledgeable than me). Unpacking and challenging internalized fatphobia, racism, sexism, ableism, healthism, etc is lifelong process. I still have much to learn. But once my eyes were opened to all the bullshit lies society inundates us with about how we're supposed to look and act and be, and how harmful that is to everyone, but particularly marginalized groups, I could no longer remain ignorant or complicit. Unintentional harm is still harm.
It's a lot to unlearn. I am still unlearning it. It requires confronting uncomfortable feelings in an open, nonjudgmental way. Feldenkrais helped me approach my physical pain in a similar fashion. The method teaches awareness through mindful movement. There's no stretching or straining. In the lessons, you do only the range of movement that is easy and comfortable for you. I've worked with Jae for several months and I've become so much more connected to and aware of my body parts and how they can move together efficiently. I'd been running with some low grade level of pain for so long that I'd just sort of gotten used to it. After one of the first lessons Jae sent me, I came home crying and Pete thought there was something wrong with me. But I was just so happy to have run a few miles pain-free for the first time in I can't remember how long. I have a lot more to learn, and I still haven't been doing any long distances, but running feels so much more natural and fluid now, like my whole body is moving together harmoniously. I didn't realize how much I had been forcing things before and how much unnecessary effort that was costing me. Some runs are better than others, of course. Because some days I'm more stressed or I haven't slept well or I haven't eaten as much or I have my period (yay so much fun always. sarcasm explosion) or whatever. The difference is I've become so much better at recognizing when something is off and knowing how to give my body/mind whatever is needed, be it nutrients or rest or sleep or saying no to things that I don't want to do.
I still feel aches and pains sometimes. I think that's just part of the experience of aliveness. But it's only on occasion, and not constant anymore. Now I think of pain as a sign, a call for attention and care. It's my body's way of alerting me that my cup is too full, that I'm at my capacity for stressors. That I need to ask questions and figure out where I'm doing too much, either physically, mentally or emotionally. I rest whenever I need to. I try to sleep better, though I am never as good at sleeping as I want to be. I don't push through the pain (and I've unfollowed anything that even hints at a no pain, no gain or similar mentality). I ask my body what it needs. Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I don't understand its language. But I am learning, little by little. To listen instead of ignore. To be curious and compassionate instead of judgmental or shaming. Sometimes I fail and that's ok, I keep trying.
My posture has improved somewhat, but that's a complicated issue. My dad used to encourage me to stand up straight and he'd say "You look like a question mark." It wasn't meant as a criticism. I think it was his way of telling me to stand up for myself, that he was proud of me and I should be proud of myself too. But I was a question mark. I had so many questions. Most people outgrow that toddler phase of asking why about everything. I never did. I didn't know how to be a person in the world. I mean, I knew what kind of person I wanted to be. But I also knew what society expected of me as a woman. And I didn't know how to reconcile the two. I just wanted to be my imperfect human self. I wanted to be a person, not an object or possession. I didn't want to have to owe anyone beauty or thinness or obedience or submission or any of that crap people expect of women. I am a person filled with wildness and weirdness, with strong convictions and sensitive to the suffering of the world. I am sometimes covered in dirt, sometimes covered in dresses. I swear more than the sailor I live with. And I don't care what is or what isn't ladylike because fuck that shit, I'm not here to be ladylike. One day maybe I will have good posture. But I don't think I will ever stop being a question mark. I can't just do things because it's what other people do. I have to ask why and does this align with my values and who profits from this and what are the other options?
So Giraffe Tower and I have been hibernating and Feldenkrais-ing and plumbing the depths of our existential angst or whatever. And mostly avoiding other people, to be honest. It's nothing personal. Either I didn't have the energy to interact with people or I didn't want to burden people with my problems when I know everyone is dealing with their own stuff. Plus, when I have issues to sort out, I need to do it on my own. I need refuge from the noise that is other people's opinions and advice and trying-to-be-helpful-but-unintentionally-making-me-feel-worse. I avoided big group functions, and especially races. The running community is great but it tends to be an environment of constantly doing more and more, whereas I needed to spend some time in a less is more cocoon. Though I feel dramatically better, I'm still working some stuff out and I don't think I'm strong enough yet to withstand people's judgment and comments. Judge away in private if you like, but please don't dump any of that here. I would however, love to hear your own stories, of struggle or success or whatever you want to share. I am always interested in your lives and experiences.
I wrote and re-wrote this many times. I didn't really want to write it at all but I don't want my social media to be a highlight reel, I want it to be real. This is where I've been, where I am and where I'm going. I am imperfect and this is my imperfect life. Maybe some of it will resonate with you, maybe it won't. Either way, thanks for being here. Love from the Tower.
Lyric of the moment: "I'm trying, but I'm graceless. Don't have the sunny side to face this. I am invisible and weightless. You can't imagine how I hate this. Graceless..." ~The National "Graceless"
P.S. For anyone who's interested, I'd highly recommend these books. I found them to be quite life-changing: "Hunger" by Roxanne Gay / "You Have The Right To Remain Fat" by Virgie Tovar / "The Body Is Not An Apology" by Sonya Renee Tayor / "Shrill" by Lindy West.
Monday, December 31, 2018
A Low Key (West) Holiday
Pete and I spent last week in Key West, Florida having a non-religious, non-traditional holiday filled with sunshine, ocean breezes and key lime pie. (And copious cocks. Key West is full of feral chickens. Roaming roosters emit a near-constant cacophony of crowing, Just a tip: bring ear plugs if you don't want to be woken up by alarm cocks). It was a restful, stress-free trip. These are some memorable moments from the week:
Running to the Southernmost point in the continental U.S. on Christmas Eve morning. Taking pictures along the way of the palm trees lit up with Christmas lights. Suddenly realizing that my military ID must have fallen out of the Spi belt when I took out my phone. Starting to panic. (We had rented a vacation condo on the Navy base. It's a sweet 3 bedroom with a full kitchen and washer/dryer and it's way cheaper than any of the hotels in town. It's a nice perk for military members and their families. But the base is guarded by an armed sentry, and I wouldn't have been able to get back on base without my military ID card or without calling Pete to come to the gate and get me in with his ID. Not to mention, it wouldn't be good if someone else found my ID and tried to use it). Sprinting back to the place where I'd pulled out my phone and luckily finding my ID still on the ground where I'd inadvertently dropped it. Feeling relieved that it was still early enough that no one else was really around and thankful for this minor Christmas miracle - I found my ID and I'd actually done speed work (kind of). Still making it to the Southernmost point in time to see the sunrise. And at the same time as two other tourists who offered to take my picture and asked me to take theirs.
Eating all the key lime pie (it is so good!) My recommendations: Kermit's for chocolate covered key lime pie on a stick, and Moondog and The Cafe for vegan key lime cheesecake. Drinking all the frozen coffee I could since it's going to be many months before it'll be warm enough at home for me to want anything other than piping hot drinks.
Randomly wandering into an art gallery, where I was mesmerized by the underwater scenes in Andres Franke's The Sinking World (check it out, it's cool) and even more mesmerized by an old English Bulldog who I immediately befriended.
Climbing the tower at the Shipwreck Museum and announcing to Pete at the top "Well, now it's officially vacation since I made you climb a tall thing!" (On our previous trip to Key West in December 2016, we'd climbed the lighthouse tower, which also has great views). Inside the Shipwreck museum, lifting the 64 lb authentic silver bar. The guide only asked Pete if he wanted to lift it, apparently assuming that I wouldn't be able to (not cool, tour guide lady). So Pete lifted it easily and then told the guide that I'd be able to lift it too and how I'd even lifted him in the past (technically this is true, but it was only a couple of centimeters off the ground for a couple of seconds). The guide looked super skeptical, but I lifted the silver bar easily (It's not hard to do. The bar is in a case, presumably so no one can steal it, so you can really only lift it a couple of inches anyway).
Doing the Truman Little White House tour (It was somewhat interesting, but I liked Hemingway's house better, which we visited in 2016. But it's not Truman's fault - it's hard to compete with 6 toed cats).
Going to the Naval Air Station on Boca Chica Key, where there's a nice little beach and bar & grill at the marina. Eating lunch and swimming, watching the fighter jets practice their jetting (Or whatever it is they do. All I know is that jetting creates maximum surround-sound level roaring noises).
Running with Pete on Christmas morning, followed by coffee and breakfast on the screened-in porch of our rental unit. Exploring Fort Zachary Taylor State Park (The fort has a lot of cannons. The beach is beautiful, but bring your own chairs as it costs $30 to rent beach chairs and an umbrella there. Damn, Zachary Taylor, that's too rich for my blood. If I'm going to pay $30 for a chair, it had better be a massage chair. Or in a helicopter. I'm not picky).
Spending Christmas night on the Ghosts and Gravestones Trolley Tour, hearing about all the ghost stories of Key West. Apparently, Key West is one of the most haunted cities in the U.S. and apparently yes, someone does keep track of these things and rank cities in terms of ghostliness. The tour wasn't scary but the guide did tell us a few creepy stories, the creepiest of which was the tale of Carl Tanzler. Creepy Carl stole his patient's body and lived with her corpse for years, until he was caught. Before this weird corpse bride shit, he had abandoned his wife and kids and changed his name to Count Carl von Cosel. Super creepy, Carl.
Watching the sunset from a glass bottom boat at sea. This was supposed to be a tour out to the coral reef, where we'd be able to see everything from the glass bottom of the boat. But due to high winds and choppy seas, they switched it to a harbor tour instead. Initially I was disappointed, but it would be super lame to complain about being privileged enough to be out on a boat on a beautiful sunny 82 degree day in December in Monroe County (Monroe County, Florida that is. A beautiful sunny 82 degree day would never happen in Monroe County, New York. If it did, we'd have far bigger problems, mainly that global warming has fucked things up beyond all repair).
Renting bikes and riding around town. Well, first trying to rent bikes and being told they were all out for the morning, but we could try back in the afternoon or rent hybrid bikes which were more expensive than the one-speed cruisers. While we were deciding what to do, two cruisers were fortuitously returned and we rented those. While she was taking our information, the rental lady asked where we were staying, Pete told her on the Navy base and she said "Do you have a military ID? Show that everywhere in this town. We put service members first. I would have canceled someone else's reservation and given you their bikes." Which I guess is nice of her, but we'd rather not get bikes at all than take someone else's reservation away from them.
Looking for a restaurant to eat dinner on our last night in Key West, we browsed a menu at one place, but everything had meat or fish in it so there was nothing I could eat. We went to a restaurant across the street instead. I tried to order a salad but the waiter said they were out of salad, so I ordered the veggie wrap (which was 75% spinach and was basically a salad inside a wrap so not sure how they were out of salad? But anyways, nutrients were had by all). When the waiter said they were out of salad, Pete said we could just go somewhere else if I wanted. This was the second place we'd tried for dinner. We were both tired and hungry and he was just casually like we can go somewhere else, not irritated or inconvenienced like other people can get sometimes. Pete eats meat and fish and pretty much everything besides onions. He doesn't really understand why I don't eat animals, in that he doesn't feel the same way about it that I do. But he accepts it and accepts me, without hesitation or annoyance. I'm not a grand gestures kind of person. It's the small, ordinary moments like this where I feel like I got the best life partner for me. I'm a difficult person to love. I don't mean that in a self-deprecating way. I don't think I'm unlovable. Everyone is inherently lovable. But I'm stubborn and strong-willed and fiercely independent. I have strong convictions and high expectations about who I want to be and how I want to live my life. I am a lot of motion and words and ridiculousness compressed into human form. It's too much for some people and that's ok. Pete and I are different in some ways but there is space enough for each of us to be who we are and I am thankful for that.
There were many more moments that I'm forgetting here, but suffice it to say Key West is a fun place, an island of cocks and seamen and pie. What more could you want from a vacation?
Lyric of the moment: "And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass..." ~ Counting Crows "A Long December"
Running to the Southernmost point in the continental U.S. on Christmas Eve morning. Taking pictures along the way of the palm trees lit up with Christmas lights. Suddenly realizing that my military ID must have fallen out of the Spi belt when I took out my phone. Starting to panic. (We had rented a vacation condo on the Navy base. It's a sweet 3 bedroom with a full kitchen and washer/dryer and it's way cheaper than any of the hotels in town. It's a nice perk for military members and their families. But the base is guarded by an armed sentry, and I wouldn't have been able to get back on base without my military ID card or without calling Pete to come to the gate and get me in with his ID. Not to mention, it wouldn't be good if someone else found my ID and tried to use it). Sprinting back to the place where I'd pulled out my phone and luckily finding my ID still on the ground where I'd inadvertently dropped it. Feeling relieved that it was still early enough that no one else was really around and thankful for this minor Christmas miracle - I found my ID and I'd actually done speed work (kind of). Still making it to the Southernmost point in time to see the sunrise. And at the same time as two other tourists who offered to take my picture and asked me to take theirs.
 |
| The Southernmost Point. Yes, I will do all the touristy things. |
 |
| Site of my lost ID card/only speedwork of 2018 |
Eating all the key lime pie (it is so good!) My recommendations: Kermit's for chocolate covered key lime pie on a stick, and Moondog and The Cafe for vegan key lime cheesecake. Drinking all the frozen coffee I could since it's going to be many months before it'll be warm enough at home for me to want anything other than piping hot drinks.
Randomly wandering into an art gallery, where I was mesmerized by the underwater scenes in Andres Franke's The Sinking World (check it out, it's cool) and even more mesmerized by an old English Bulldog who I immediately befriended.
 |
| Key West trees are amazing. I wanted to climb all of them! |
Climbing the tower at the Shipwreck Museum and announcing to Pete at the top "Well, now it's officially vacation since I made you climb a tall thing!" (On our previous trip to Key West in December 2016, we'd climbed the lighthouse tower, which also has great views). Inside the Shipwreck museum, lifting the 64 lb authentic silver bar. The guide only asked Pete if he wanted to lift it, apparently assuming that I wouldn't be able to (not cool, tour guide lady). So Pete lifted it easily and then told the guide that I'd be able to lift it too and how I'd even lifted him in the past (technically this is true, but it was only a couple of centimeters off the ground for a couple of seconds). The guide looked super skeptical, but I lifted the silver bar easily (It's not hard to do. The bar is in a case, presumably so no one can steal it, so you can really only lift it a couple of inches anyway).
 |
| Shipwreck museum tower |
 |
| We climbed the tower. We did not spot any shipwrecks. |
Doing the Truman Little White House tour (It was somewhat interesting, but I liked Hemingway's house better, which we visited in 2016. But it's not Truman's fault - it's hard to compete with 6 toed cats).
Going to the Naval Air Station on Boca Chica Key, where there's a nice little beach and bar & grill at the marina. Eating lunch and swimming, watching the fighter jets practice their jetting (Or whatever it is they do. All I know is that jetting creates maximum surround-sound level roaring noises).
 |
| Big roaring sound. Tiny little fighter jet. |
Running with Pete on Christmas morning, followed by coffee and breakfast on the screened-in porch of our rental unit. Exploring Fort Zachary Taylor State Park (The fort has a lot of cannons. The beach is beautiful, but bring your own chairs as it costs $30 to rent beach chairs and an umbrella there. Damn, Zachary Taylor, that's too rich for my blood. If I'm going to pay $30 for a chair, it had better be a massage chair. Or in a helicopter. I'm not picky).
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| This rooster wants coffee and breakfast too |
Spending Christmas night on the Ghosts and Gravestones Trolley Tour, hearing about all the ghost stories of Key West. Apparently, Key West is one of the most haunted cities in the U.S. and apparently yes, someone does keep track of these things and rank cities in terms of ghostliness. The tour wasn't scary but the guide did tell us a few creepy stories, the creepiest of which was the tale of Carl Tanzler. Creepy Carl stole his patient's body and lived with her corpse for years, until he was caught. Before this weird corpse bride shit, he had abandoned his wife and kids and changed his name to Count Carl von Cosel. Super creepy, Carl.
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| If you enjoy riding a trolley while hearing about creepy dudes, this tour is for you. |
Watching the sunset from a glass bottom boat at sea. This was supposed to be a tour out to the coral reef, where we'd be able to see everything from the glass bottom of the boat. But due to high winds and choppy seas, they switched it to a harbor tour instead. Initially I was disappointed, but it would be super lame to complain about being privileged enough to be out on a boat on a beautiful sunny 82 degree day in December in Monroe County (Monroe County, Florida that is. A beautiful sunny 82 degree day would never happen in Monroe County, New York. If it did, we'd have far bigger problems, mainly that global warming has fucked things up beyond all repair).
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| We're on a boat |
Renting bikes and riding around town. Well, first trying to rent bikes and being told they were all out for the morning, but we could try back in the afternoon or rent hybrid bikes which were more expensive than the one-speed cruisers. While we were deciding what to do, two cruisers were fortuitously returned and we rented those. While she was taking our information, the rental lady asked where we were staying, Pete told her on the Navy base and she said "Do you have a military ID? Show that everywhere in this town. We put service members first. I would have canceled someone else's reservation and given you their bikes." Which I guess is nice of her, but we'd rather not get bikes at all than take someone else's reservation away from them.
Looking for a restaurant to eat dinner on our last night in Key West, we browsed a menu at one place, but everything had meat or fish in it so there was nothing I could eat. We went to a restaurant across the street instead. I tried to order a salad but the waiter said they were out of salad, so I ordered the veggie wrap (which was 75% spinach and was basically a salad inside a wrap so not sure how they were out of salad? But anyways, nutrients were had by all). When the waiter said they were out of salad, Pete said we could just go somewhere else if I wanted. This was the second place we'd tried for dinner. We were both tired and hungry and he was just casually like we can go somewhere else, not irritated or inconvenienced like other people can get sometimes. Pete eats meat and fish and pretty much everything besides onions. He doesn't really understand why I don't eat animals, in that he doesn't feel the same way about it that I do. But he accepts it and accepts me, without hesitation or annoyance. I'm not a grand gestures kind of person. It's the small, ordinary moments like this where I feel like I got the best life partner for me. I'm a difficult person to love. I don't mean that in a self-deprecating way. I don't think I'm unlovable. Everyone is inherently lovable. But I'm stubborn and strong-willed and fiercely independent. I have strong convictions and high expectations about who I want to be and how I want to live my life. I am a lot of motion and words and ridiculousness compressed into human form. It's too much for some people and that's ok. Pete and I are different in some ways but there is space enough for each of us to be who we are and I am thankful for that.
There were many more moments that I'm forgetting here, but suffice it to say Key West is a fun place, an island of cocks and seamen and pie. What more could you want from a vacation?
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| We are weird |
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| The sun sets on another adventure |
Lyric of the moment: "And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself to hold on to these moments as they pass..." ~ Counting Crows "A Long December"
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
A non-exhaustive list of things for which I am infinitely grateful
First, a moment of silence and love for all of you who, through distance or circumstances or loss, are unable to celebrate Thanksgiving in the way that you want or with the people that you love. Infinity of hugs to you.
Lyric of the moment: "Thank you, friends. Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. I'm so grateful for all the things you helped me do..." ~Big Star "Thank You Friends"
My friends: I hope you know that you don't have to do something just because it has always been done. Because I want to is enough reason to do anything. Because I don't want to is enough reason not to do something. You don't have to make all the foods or buy all the things or see all the people if those things fill you with dread instead of joy. This day, and all the days, may your minds be open to wonder and curiosity, may your stomachs be full of all the delicious nutrients and may your hearts be bursting with love and gratitude.
And now a non-exhaustive list of things for which I am infinitely grateful:
* Clean water. Clean air. Shelter. Food. Healthcare. Education. Human rights. Hugs. Everyone should get to have these things. Every single human everywhere.
* Wild spaces. Mountains to climb, canyons to explore, trails to roam. Some parts of the earth and of ourselves should always be left wild.
* Books, blogs, music, movies, TV, art. For making me laugh and cry and better able to understand the full range of human experience.
* Financial independence. I don't owe any money to anyone for anything. That is a freedom and a luxury I don't take for granted.
* My parents, who loved me for the weird, independent, adventurous kid I was, who nurtured my love of reading and running and writing and who taught me that I could be anything I wanted to be (but that of all the things a person can be, the most important of those is kind). When I was a baby I would habitually climb out of my crib and throw myself on the floor (Why? WTF who does this? I cannot explain this other than to say that it is just so very me). My parents were probably worried or scared I was going to get hurt or maybe they were just like what kind of weirdo child do we have, always trying to skydive without a parachute? The best part of this story is that my parents put pillows all around my crib. They never stopped me from climbing, they just gave me a soft place to land. And that is love: the freedom to adventure and explore and be yourself, knowing you always have a soft place to land, a home where people love you no matter what. (I won't get to spend Thanksgiving or any holiday or any day with my dad ever again, but so much of who I am is because of him that it feels like he is always here in some way, every time I laugh or run or save money or say "you gotta be freaking kidding me." One Thanksgiving when I was little, Dad and I wrote a story called The Turkey That Got Away about a turkey who hid under the hunters' tents to avoid being killed for Thanksgiving dinner. And every year I hope that somewhere out there some turkeys got away).
* My friends. I have met so many amazing people in my 37 years of life. People who opened their doors and their arms and their hearts to me. People who were there for the joy and the sorrows, the failures and triumphs, the beauty and the pain that is life. Genuine human connection is, hands down, the very best part of being alive (sorry, cookies). And my life has been filled with it, thanks to you.
* Dogs. This requires no explanation. Dogs are the actual best.
* Husband Man. More than anyone else, Pete has seen me, all of me, all the ridiculousness and sass and motion and feels and fierce independence (at times detrimentally fierce) that I am. I am a lot. I know I am. For some people it is too much. But I have never had to make myself smaller in any way in my relationship with Pete. I have been my whole bigger-on-the-inside self from day 1, I have pushed and challenged us to be better people and partners, and 1173 days and 2 giraffes later, he's still here. He always says he loves everything about me, and maybe one day I'll believe that could be true. All I know is Pete is my home, my soft, funny place to land. (By soft, I mean strong, Honey. So big!)
Thursday, November 1, 2018
I don't have the right words but these things need to be said
I've seen several posts on social media lamenting the loss of friendships over politics and requesting that people not discuss divisive or controversial political topics online. I think most of these people mean well. They just want their Facebook feed to be all puppies and rainbows. And I get it. Puppies and rainbows are awesome. But life is not all puppies and rainbows. Life is also sadness and struggle and heartbreak and rage-inducing injustices. I understand the impulse to feel like can't we all just get along? However, it's not that simple, especially when some groups of people are trying to deny basic human rights to other groups of people. Expecting the oppressed to just "get along" with their oppressors is cruel and unfair. Personally, I will not stop talking about politics, online or otherwise. I'm not going to be a dick about it (I mean, not intentionally. I'm imperfect, I make mistakes). But I have strong opinions and I'm going to assert them. I will strive to be respectful and compassionate but I will not be silent. Being silent in the face of injustice would make me complicit in perpetuating the injustice.
When people say they don't want to discuss controversial or divisive issues, what they really mean is that doing so makes them uncomfortable. Most people have a very low tolerance for discomfort and especially for witnessing the pain and suffering of others. This doesn't make them bad people. It's a natural impulse to want to avoid discomfort. But learning how to sit with and tolerate uncomfortable feelings is one of the best life skills you can develop. It is especially important when it comes to social justice issues that we are able to have those difficult, uncomfortable conversations. Because that's how change happens. Everything is divisive and controversial until it isn't. The reason slavery was abolished and women got the right to vote and gay marriage was legalized is because of all the people who refused to remain silent. It is important work and it must be continued.
My life is very privileged and with great privilege comes great responsibility. Having privilege doesn't mean that your life isn't hard. Everyone's life is hard in some ways. Having privilege means that your hardships aren't compounded by prejudice against your race/gender/sexual orientation/physical disabilities/body size. (Please read more about this if I'm not explaining it well here - just google "what is white privilege/able-bodied privilege/thin privilege/heterosexual privilege/etc to find many examples). I have so much privilege and I need to use it to amplify the voices and the stories of marginalized people. Because everyone deserves to be treated with respect, to be treated as a PERSON. Everyone deserves basic human rights. I cannot be the person I want to be in the world if I remain silent. If being outspoken means that some people no longer want to be friends with me, I can accept that. Social justice is more important to me than being liked. Besides, I believe in true friendships, the kind that are unconditional. If your friendship is conditional upon me always agreeing with you or never saying anything "controversial," if I have to make myself smaller in any way in order for you to like me, I cannot agree to that. I won't be anything less than everything that I am. I would not want anyone else to be either.
I understand that we're all at different places in our journeys and that's ok. I'm at a place where I can see so much pain and suffering in the world and I am choosing to bear witness to it rather than avoid it. I want to hear your stories and your opinions and your experiences of being a person in the world. I want to talk about the injustices and the pain and the struggle and the sorrows, not just the puppies and the rainbows. Because that's the whole point of everything - to be here with each other, for each other, to make the world better for each other. And to do that we have to listen and we have to confront the uncomfortable, unfair realities of life. We have to acknowledge the systemic injustices in our society and work together to rectify them.
I'm not the most articulate person. I don't know all the things, I don't have the answers. I don't have the right words, but these things need to be said. I don't think my words are going to change anyone's mind. I can only change myself. So I will continue to change myself. I will keep listening and learning and feeling the uncomfortable feelings and challenging myself to do better and be better. I hope you will join me. If you have puppies, please come on in. If you have anger and despair and pain, please come on in. I want to sit with you on the sunshine and rainbow days and on the WTF What Fresh Hell Is This?! days. I want to sit with you on all the days.
Lyric of the moment: "Sick of leaving things half done, leaving things half said. Oh I am, I am trying the best that I can. I am, I am trying..." ~Vance Joy "Best That I Can"
When people say they don't want to discuss controversial or divisive issues, what they really mean is that doing so makes them uncomfortable. Most people have a very low tolerance for discomfort and especially for witnessing the pain and suffering of others. This doesn't make them bad people. It's a natural impulse to want to avoid discomfort. But learning how to sit with and tolerate uncomfortable feelings is one of the best life skills you can develop. It is especially important when it comes to social justice issues that we are able to have those difficult, uncomfortable conversations. Because that's how change happens. Everything is divisive and controversial until it isn't. The reason slavery was abolished and women got the right to vote and gay marriage was legalized is because of all the people who refused to remain silent. It is important work and it must be continued.
My life is very privileged and with great privilege comes great responsibility. Having privilege doesn't mean that your life isn't hard. Everyone's life is hard in some ways. Having privilege means that your hardships aren't compounded by prejudice against your race/gender/sexual orientation/physical disabilities/body size. (Please read more about this if I'm not explaining it well here - just google "what is white privilege/able-bodied privilege/thin privilege/heterosexual privilege/etc to find many examples). I have so much privilege and I need to use it to amplify the voices and the stories of marginalized people. Because everyone deserves to be treated with respect, to be treated as a PERSON. Everyone deserves basic human rights. I cannot be the person I want to be in the world if I remain silent. If being outspoken means that some people no longer want to be friends with me, I can accept that. Social justice is more important to me than being liked. Besides, I believe in true friendships, the kind that are unconditional. If your friendship is conditional upon me always agreeing with you or never saying anything "controversial," if I have to make myself smaller in any way in order for you to like me, I cannot agree to that. I won't be anything less than everything that I am. I would not want anyone else to be either.
I understand that we're all at different places in our journeys and that's ok. I'm at a place where I can see so much pain and suffering in the world and I am choosing to bear witness to it rather than avoid it. I want to hear your stories and your opinions and your experiences of being a person in the world. I want to talk about the injustices and the pain and the struggle and the sorrows, not just the puppies and the rainbows. Because that's the whole point of everything - to be here with each other, for each other, to make the world better for each other. And to do that we have to listen and we have to confront the uncomfortable, unfair realities of life. We have to acknowledge the systemic injustices in our society and work together to rectify them.
I'm not the most articulate person. I don't know all the things, I don't have the answers. I don't have the right words, but these things need to be said. I don't think my words are going to change anyone's mind. I can only change myself. So I will continue to change myself. I will keep listening and learning and feeling the uncomfortable feelings and challenging myself to do better and be better. I hope you will join me. If you have puppies, please come on in. If you have anger and despair and pain, please come on in. I want to sit with you on the sunshine and rainbow days and on the WTF What Fresh Hell Is This?! days. I want to sit with you on all the days.
Lyric of the moment: "Sick of leaving things half done, leaving things half said. Oh I am, I am trying the best that I can. I am, I am trying..." ~Vance Joy "Best That I Can"
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
Strength Training
"Why are you doing this?" I ask myself as I try to do yet another thing I can't do because I don't have any muscles and I don't know how to let my body parts work together instead of struggling against each other. Or rather, the small insistent voice from somewhere deep inside me asks this. The voice that I can finally hear clearly and consistently, after tuning out the cacophony of the culturally ingrained messages of how I'm supposed to look and act and think and be. Many of those messages are untrue. We are constantly bombarded with messages designed to make us feel fearful and insecure, to manipulate and control our beliefs, actions and especially our money. It takes a concerted effort to unlearn the untruths we've been told and to determine for ourselves how to be a person in the world. The process is messy and confusing and, for me at least, involves a lot of crying in the shower (For me, the shower is the perfect place to release all the feels. The water drowns out and washes away all the puffy, snotty evidence of an ugly cry, while also being warm and relaxing. It feels like a clean slate and a gratitude enhancer - I will never cease to be amazed that I get to have hot running water or ice cold water any time I want).
"Why are you doing this?" I ask myself.
"Because I need to get stronger." I whine in frustration.
"There are different kinds of strength." I reply.
And this is the answer. I know it's the answer, but I don't know how to actualize it. Do I need the kind of strength that comes from lifting heavy things? A little bit, yes. Insomuch as it benefits my health and better allows me to do the things I want to do. But it's not like anyone is ever going to mistake me for The Rock. Visible muscles are not ever going to be my thing. My best muscle is and always has been my stupidly hopeful, wanderlustful, bleeding heart. But I don't know what kind of class you go to in order to gain the other kinds of strength. Like the strength to stand up straight and risk being seen (and possibly being misunderstood or judged or attacked - I wonder if animals think our bipedalism is super weird, like here we are walking around all exposed and in danger of being eviscerated, figuratively and literally). The strength to confidently and compassionately challenge the misinformation and injustices of the world. The strength to forgive and atone for my past mistakes, all the times I starved myself of nourishment, both physical and emotional.
The world can be a very dark place. Sometimes I think fighting it is a Sisyphean task. Every day you push the boulders up the hill and some asshole knocks them back down again. But I have to keep pushing the boulders up the hill, because I have a lot of resources and privileges that allow me to do so, and because not doing so means the boulders might fall and hurt someone. And because maybe all of us pushing together will eventually make a difference.
So I need the strength to be bigger and brighter, to be an unstoppable force of lightness and kindness. The strength to fall into the well of feelings that is the human experience, to swim through them, struggling and learning and growing, and to climb back out of the well a kinder, better person. Over and over. For as long as it takes.
(Last week the well of feelings was deep and dark. It felt like scream crying into the abyss. So George and I canceled most of our plans, felt the feels and watched old Elementary episodes on Hulu while pretending to be detectives. But mostly we ate snacks and cleaned things. Though we did find 90 cents in the couch cushions. First case solved! George is a very good, non-judgmental feelings-feeler friend. Plus he doesn't eat any of the snacks. Alas, he is not very good at coming up with funny detective agency names).
Lyric of the moment: "When everyone you thought you knew deserts your fight, I'll go with you. You're facing down a dark hall, I'll grab my light and go with you. I'll go with you, I'll go with you..." ~Twenty One Pilots "My Blood"
"Why are you doing this?" I ask myself.
"Because I need to get stronger." I whine in frustration.
"There are different kinds of strength." I reply.
And this is the answer. I know it's the answer, but I don't know how to actualize it. Do I need the kind of strength that comes from lifting heavy things? A little bit, yes. Insomuch as it benefits my health and better allows me to do the things I want to do. But it's not like anyone is ever going to mistake me for The Rock. Visible muscles are not ever going to be my thing. My best muscle is and always has been my stupidly hopeful, wanderlustful, bleeding heart. But I don't know what kind of class you go to in order to gain the other kinds of strength. Like the strength to stand up straight and risk being seen (and possibly being misunderstood or judged or attacked - I wonder if animals think our bipedalism is super weird, like here we are walking around all exposed and in danger of being eviscerated, figuratively and literally). The strength to confidently and compassionately challenge the misinformation and injustices of the world. The strength to forgive and atone for my past mistakes, all the times I starved myself of nourishment, both physical and emotional.
The world can be a very dark place. Sometimes I think fighting it is a Sisyphean task. Every day you push the boulders up the hill and some asshole knocks them back down again. But I have to keep pushing the boulders up the hill, because I have a lot of resources and privileges that allow me to do so, and because not doing so means the boulders might fall and hurt someone. And because maybe all of us pushing together will eventually make a difference.
So I need the strength to be bigger and brighter, to be an unstoppable force of lightness and kindness. The strength to fall into the well of feelings that is the human experience, to swim through them, struggling and learning and growing, and to climb back out of the well a kinder, better person. Over and over. For as long as it takes.
(Last week the well of feelings was deep and dark. It felt like scream crying into the abyss. So George and I canceled most of our plans, felt the feels and watched old Elementary episodes on Hulu while pretending to be detectives. But mostly we ate snacks and cleaned things. Though we did find 90 cents in the couch cushions. First case solved! George is a very good, non-judgmental feelings-feeler friend. Plus he doesn't eat any of the snacks. Alas, he is not very good at coming up with funny detective agency names).
Lyric of the moment: "When everyone you thought you knew deserts your fight, I'll go with you. You're facing down a dark hall, I'll grab my light and go with you. I'll go with you, I'll go with you..." ~Twenty One Pilots "My Blood"
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Old Forge Half Marathon: Old Asses Half-Assing Old Forge
"Well this is either a great idea or a terrible idea!" I said as Prem and I were running from the rental house to the start of the Old Forge Marathon and Half Marathon. It was Prem's idea to run the two miles as a warm-up. Because running 26.2 miles wasn't enough for him. I only had to run half that distance so I figured a couple more miles couldn't hurt. Or they could hurt but then it would be a funny story afterwards. It was a cool, crisp 50 degrees, ideal running weather. We ran past two ice cream places and the race start/finish area had a giant stuffed moose and bear, so it was already shaping up to be a perfect day.
Jenn, Prem and I had driven to Old Forge in Jenn's Car 'o Fun the night before and met up with Alison, Bob, Todd, Brooke, Mark and Amy at this amazing rental house with 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms and countless moose and bear knickknacks. Whoever decorated this house had a serious commitment to the outdoorsy motif. There was virtually no surface untouched by wood or woodland creatures. We were all up early on Saturday morning. Sleep had been in short supply, due to pre-race anxiety or sleeping in an unfamiliar place with odd noises and hundreds of tchotchke eyes. But coffee, bagels and laughter were plentiful. Prem and I set off on foot and the others followed later by car, bringing our bags with them. I learned two important things: 1) I am too old to sleep in the top bunk of a bunk-bed (though I didn't fall while trying to go down the unstable ladder in the dark so that was a major win) and 2) easy warm-up miles can be very enjoyable and probably even a good idea (though I'm no Prem - for a marathon or ultra, I'm perfectly content to use the first miles of the race itself as a warm-up).
Waiting around for the start, we were all dancing and goofing around as usual. Prem insisted he was "not racing" (then went on to come in 4th overall!!) Everyone else was sandbagging too, claiming they were unprepared and going to be slow (all lies, everyone was super fast). We called ourselves Old Asses Half-Assing Old Forge. I wasn't thinking of this as a race, just a mini-vacation with tramily in a new-to-me destination. I was happy and relaxed at the start line, having no expectations or goals for the race. Except to make it back alive to my box of Neopolitan JoJos. The course was non-technical and flat, mostly rocky dirt roads with some small rolling hills. I wanted to focus on my form and have a smooth, relaxed stride. Lately I've been working on improving my biomechanics, which are admittedly quite terrible. I have flat feet and my posture is atrocious, from decades of hunching my shoulders inward and attempting to be as invisible as possible. It has taken many years to undo that mindset from the inside out and fixing my posture has been the latest piece of the build-a-better-robot puzzle. I still have a ways to go but maybe one day I'll actually achieve my full height (before I'm old enough to start shrinking).
I started off following Todd and just getting into an easy rhythm with my breathing and steps. Somehow I ended up ahead of him and I worried maybe I was going out too fast, but my legs felt good so I just let them do their thing. I had no idea what pace I was going and it didn't really matter. I wanted to run by effort and feel and didn't care about pace. For a few miles, I ran with a marathoner named Rob and we chatted about our favorite NY state races and our goals (or non-goals) for the day, you know, the typical conversations you have with strangers in the woods. At one point he said it was a flat course and the perfect running weather and encouraged me to just go for it if I felt good. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but apparently my legs decided that was exactly what we were going to do. There was an out and back section where I got to see everyone, then a turnaround at a cone with a giant stuffed bear on it (the bear/moose theme is totally overdone in Old Forge, but I love it), then we were already halfway done and I still felt fresh. While I could definitely feel the effort and some minor aches, my stride felt looser and more effortless than it has in a while and I just kept thinking "Thank you, body for enabling me to do what I love." Bob caught up to me and I got to run with him for a bit. We ran along a cinder-track-like path, and I saw two dogs up ahead who looked familiar. As we got closer I realized it was Beth out running and spectating with Indy and Metta. It was a most awesome surprise!
The second half of the course passed as smoothly as the first half had, though now I was in the zone and keeping mostly to myself, just happily ticking off miles. I ran steadily up all the hills and let go on the downhills, not trying to control anything, just allowing my legs to find their own way. At one point I somehow managed to kick a rock into the back of my own right Achilles, which stung for a few steps but I couldn't help but laugh at my stone hacky-sack fail. Since I'd worn my hydration pack and had my own gels, I hadn't needed to stop at any of the aid stations so it had been a continuous and surprisingly fluid grind since the start. Somehow I had just gotten into a groove and stayed there for the full 13 miles. There was one last hill up a paved road, which I crested seamlessly, then sprinted downhill to the finish. I'm sure it didn't look fluid or fast from the outside (I probably looked more like a lumbering elephant), but it sure felt fantastic. I haven't run that far that fast and felt that good in a long time. But that's running - some runs are a pile of crap, some runs are a piece of cake. I like to think the effortless feeling days are the reward for persevering through the sufferfest days. Every day I get to run is a good day, but I am especially grateful for those perfect, relaxed days. It's such a wonderful feeling to glide through the wilds of life, surrounded by your favorite old asses.
Bob, Todd, Jenn and Mark crushed the half and Prem, Alison and Brooke all had super strong marathon finishes. We hung out at the finish area, eating, cheering and dancing until Brooke came in. I think we even made it into the official race video with our dance moves to Salt-N-Pepa's "Shoop." After the race there was a lot of eating, euchre playing, exploring Old Forge/Webb, laughing, hilarious picture taking and more eating. Warm-up miles and cool-down dancing may become my new race routine because it really helped limit the typical post-race soreness.
Sunday morning, Jenn, Alison, Prem, Todd, Brooke, Boden and I did the 2ish mile hike up and down Bald Mountain, which had beautiful views and a cool fire tower to climb at the top. Then it was time to clean up and head home, with full, happy hearts and stomachs.
All the thanks to the RDs, volunteers and runners who make events like this possible. And infinity of thanks and love to my tramily for filling my life with so many adventures and so much awesomeness. I know one day my running escapades will end, but until then I'm going to savor every wild, weird, wonderful moment of the terrible, awful, beautiful, amazing torture paradise that is distance running.
Lyric of the moment: "I don't recall a single care. Just greenery and humid air. Then Labor Day came and went. And we shed what was left of our summer skin..." ~Death Cab For Cutie "Summer Skin"
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| Thanks to Coach Prem for the warm-up and photo |
Jenn, Prem and I had driven to Old Forge in Jenn's Car 'o Fun the night before and met up with Alison, Bob, Todd, Brooke, Mark and Amy at this amazing rental house with 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms and countless moose and bear knickknacks. Whoever decorated this house had a serious commitment to the outdoorsy motif. There was virtually no surface untouched by wood or woodland creatures. We were all up early on Saturday morning. Sleep had been in short supply, due to pre-race anxiety or sleeping in an unfamiliar place with odd noises and hundreds of tchotchke eyes. But coffee, bagels and laughter were plentiful. Prem and I set off on foot and the others followed later by car, bringing our bags with them. I learned two important things: 1) I am too old to sleep in the top bunk of a bunk-bed (though I didn't fall while trying to go down the unstable ladder in the dark so that was a major win) and 2) easy warm-up miles can be very enjoyable and probably even a good idea (though I'm no Prem - for a marathon or ultra, I'm perfectly content to use the first miles of the race itself as a warm-up).
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| Pre-race, pre-Mark getting dressed for the race. Photo thanks to Sherpa extraordinaire, Amy! |
Waiting around for the start, we were all dancing and goofing around as usual. Prem insisted he was "not racing" (then went on to come in 4th overall!!) Everyone else was sandbagging too, claiming they were unprepared and going to be slow (all lies, everyone was super fast). We called ourselves Old Asses Half-Assing Old Forge. I wasn't thinking of this as a race, just a mini-vacation with tramily in a new-to-me destination. I was happy and relaxed at the start line, having no expectations or goals for the race. Except to make it back alive to my box of Neopolitan JoJos. The course was non-technical and flat, mostly rocky dirt roads with some small rolling hills. I wanted to focus on my form and have a smooth, relaxed stride. Lately I've been working on improving my biomechanics, which are admittedly quite terrible. I have flat feet and my posture is atrocious, from decades of hunching my shoulders inward and attempting to be as invisible as possible. It has taken many years to undo that mindset from the inside out and fixing my posture has been the latest piece of the build-a-better-robot puzzle. I still have a ways to go but maybe one day I'll actually achieve my full height (before I'm old enough to start shrinking).
I started off following Todd and just getting into an easy rhythm with my breathing and steps. Somehow I ended up ahead of him and I worried maybe I was going out too fast, but my legs felt good so I just let them do their thing. I had no idea what pace I was going and it didn't really matter. I wanted to run by effort and feel and didn't care about pace. For a few miles, I ran with a marathoner named Rob and we chatted about our favorite NY state races and our goals (or non-goals) for the day, you know, the typical conversations you have with strangers in the woods. At one point he said it was a flat course and the perfect running weather and encouraged me to just go for it if I felt good. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but apparently my legs decided that was exactly what we were going to do. There was an out and back section where I got to see everyone, then a turnaround at a cone with a giant stuffed bear on it (the bear/moose theme is totally overdone in Old Forge, but I love it), then we were already halfway done and I still felt fresh. While I could definitely feel the effort and some minor aches, my stride felt looser and more effortless than it has in a while and I just kept thinking "Thank you, body for enabling me to do what I love." Bob caught up to me and I got to run with him for a bit. We ran along a cinder-track-like path, and I saw two dogs up ahead who looked familiar. As we got closer I realized it was Beth out running and spectating with Indy and Metta. It was a most awesome surprise!
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| Photo thanks to Beth! Bob is so fast he's just a blur! |
The second half of the course passed as smoothly as the first half had, though now I was in the zone and keeping mostly to myself, just happily ticking off miles. I ran steadily up all the hills and let go on the downhills, not trying to control anything, just allowing my legs to find their own way. At one point I somehow managed to kick a rock into the back of my own right Achilles, which stung for a few steps but I couldn't help but laugh at my stone hacky-sack fail. Since I'd worn my hydration pack and had my own gels, I hadn't needed to stop at any of the aid stations so it had been a continuous and surprisingly fluid grind since the start. Somehow I had just gotten into a groove and stayed there for the full 13 miles. There was one last hill up a paved road, which I crested seamlessly, then sprinted downhill to the finish. I'm sure it didn't look fluid or fast from the outside (I probably looked more like a lumbering elephant), but it sure felt fantastic. I haven't run that far that fast and felt that good in a long time. But that's running - some runs are a pile of crap, some runs are a piece of cake. I like to think the effortless feeling days are the reward for persevering through the sufferfest days. Every day I get to run is a good day, but I am especially grateful for those perfect, relaxed days. It's such a wonderful feeling to glide through the wilds of life, surrounded by your favorite old asses.
Bob, Todd, Jenn and Mark crushed the half and Prem, Alison and Brooke all had super strong marathon finishes. We hung out at the finish area, eating, cheering and dancing until Brooke came in. I think we even made it into the official race video with our dance moves to Salt-N-Pepa's "Shoop." After the race there was a lot of eating, euchre playing, exploring Old Forge/Webb, laughing, hilarious picture taking and more eating. Warm-up miles and cool-down dancing may become my new race routine because it really helped limit the typical post-race soreness.
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| We did it! |
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| Shenanigans |
Sunday morning, Jenn, Alison, Prem, Todd, Brooke, Boden and I did the 2ish mile hike up and down Bald Mountain, which had beautiful views and a cool fire tower to climb at the top. Then it was time to clean up and head home, with full, happy hearts and stomachs.
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| Bald Mountain |
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| Of course we have to climb it |
All the thanks to the RDs, volunteers and runners who make events like this possible. And infinity of thanks and love to my tramily for filling my life with so many adventures and so much awesomeness. I know one day my running escapades will end, but until then I'm going to savor every wild, weird, wonderful moment of the terrible, awful, beautiful, amazing torture paradise that is distance running.
Lyric of the moment: "I don't recall a single care. Just greenery and humid air. Then Labor Day came and went. And we shed what was left of our summer skin..." ~Death Cab For Cutie "Summer Skin"
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