Things I want to say that you may not like

2020 feels like some horrific competition between covid-19, systemic racism, and capitalism to see which can cause the most death and destruction. Many are unemployed, many are working overtime in hazardous conditions, many are sick or have been killed. Whatever is happening for you right now, I am here for you. I can only speak to my own experiences and feelings, and I don't know what it's like to live your life, so please don't take anything I write here as a judgment against you. We all have different circumstances and bodies. Some of us have more resources and privileges than others, so while we may share similar feelings of panic or uncertainty or anger or sadness, our individual experiences amidst a global crisis can be vastly different. From the murder hornets to the pointless, pantsless Zoom meetings, these are bizarre times. Do what you have to do to survive. I mean, don't go all murdery, and for fuck's sake do not inject or ingest any disinfectants, but otherwise do your thing. If you're baking like you're a contestant on the Great British Bakeoff, good for you. If you're eating cereal by the boxful, good for you. Life feels especially hard right now. Everyone struggles in some ways, but for some, the weight of their struggles is crushing, having been further compounded by structural inequalities. I think most people are just doing the best they can in a scary and stressful world. But those of us who are able must show up and help eliminate the unfair burdens of others. As a nation, we fail people in so many ways. We fail to provide everyone with food, housing, healthcare, education, equal rights. We have to do better. We have to take care of each other. That is the whole fucking point of being alive. 

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the kind of person I want to be in the world and it's this: radically empathetic and radically egalitarian. I want to fight injustice in the world and the ways in which I've unknowingly perpetuated and unfairly benefited from it. I know I have a long way to go and I will never actually arrive there, but I am trying to take steps in that direction every day. I'm going to make mistakes and stumble along the way. I'm an imperfect person. It's a long and involved process to recognize privilege and let go of problematic beliefs. But it's important and worthwhile work. At 38, I'm not the same person I was at 18 or 28. I hope I won't be the same person at 58 or 88 or however long I'm lucky enough to live. My own lived experience is such a small sliver of reality. And I want to know the full spectrum of what it means to be an earthling. That's impossible of course. I can never really know what it's like to live your life. But I want to know as much as I can about how others experience the world. That means listening without judgment. That means changing my mind when confronted with new information. It also means trying to do less harm. Unfortunately, I have done and will do harm in the world with my words and thoughts and actions. It's an unavoidable part of life. Even if I have the best intentions, I can still cause harm sometimes. And let's be honest, I don't always have the best intentions at all times. I mean, I want to. But I'm human and I've done and said things I'm not proud of. There are so many ways that my white/cishet/thin/able-bodied/economic privilege has obstructed my worldview, so many things I didn't know because I was able to grow up not having to know/live them. So please call me out when I fuck up. I want to spend my life learning and changing so I can know better and do better. 

So if you're here for the George videos and vacation photos, I hope you also stay for the antiracism and feminism and LGBTQ+ rights and socialism and veganism. If you're here for the joy, I hope you also stay for the sorrow. I'm not saying you have to believe all the same things I do. That's probably not ever going to happen. But let's have those conversations. Because we can't be true friends if we only share the surface level parts of ourselves. I am here for all of it. For all of you. Bring me your hopes and fears, failures and triumphs, grief and happiness. Let's talk about everything there is. None of us can do this alone. So let's do life together. We are all flawed. But we are remarkably resilient and have an amazing capacity for change. Let's change the fucking world from the inside out. 

If you're still reading this, thanks for being here. If you don't like swears or uncomfortable conversations, I'm sorry, I am not the robot for you. 

Lyric of the moment: "I don't want to get bitter. I want us to get better. I want us to be kinder. To ourselves and to each other..." ~Lilac "Porridge Radio"

Of restfulness and water

I was swimming in the gym pool. It was the closest I have ever come to actual swimming. Which, don't get me wrong, is still pretty far from what you would consider swimming. I'm no Michael Phelps or manatee, gliding through the water with grace and majesty and oneness with the sea. Approximately freestyle is how I think of it, though I'm sure serious swimmers would not consider it as such. But I was in flow in the water and it felt effortless. Time passed without my noticing it. I finally understood the appeal of swimming laps. I usually find swimming back and forth so boring, like I'm not going anywhere and there aren't even any dolphins here so what is the point? It was 5am, which is my favorite time to do everything because it's everyone else's favorite time to still be sleeping. So I get to have a whole lane (sometimes the whole pool) all to myself. There was one other person in the pool, a woman swimming back and forth seemingly forever. She was there when I started and still there when I left. She looked like she belonged there and I most definitely did not. But so what? I wasn't there to belong or accomplish or impress.

I was there because I wasn't running. I'm not running. I haven't been running. I am mostly ok with it. I don't know which of those things is more surprising. I miss it of course. I miss the feeling of running. I miss the way conversation easily flows when running, from the deeply personal to the absurdly funny to the state of everyone's bodily functions. But running hurts at the moment so I'm not doing it. It feels like tendinitis. The kind of thing my body will heal on its own with rest and time. I'm going to physical therapy and acupuncture and massage and doing my feldenkrais and going to the gym (which is not my favorite place but it is warm so I guess it's tolerable). But mostly I'm just resting and avoiding the movements that cause pain. In the past I would have felt the need to do something, anything, everything to make it better as soon as possible. I would have felt the agony and frustration of not being able to do what I want to do. I still feel those things a bit. I feel depressed a lot, but that's mostly at the state of the world - the dying planet and the terrible things humans do to others. I don't feel depressed about my body. At times a bit frustrated, yes. But mostly I feel grateful for all my body does and is. And if it needs a break right now, that's what I'm going to give it. So I'm not running. It's probably temporary. Even if it isn't, even if I never ran again, that would be sad of course, but it wouldn't be utterly devastating. There are other losses that are far worse. I have an easy life compared to many. I am lucky in so many ways. Sometimes if you want to continue running, you have to stop running for a time. For however long it takes to heal. That's just how it goes. I wouldn't have chosen it and I'm not thrilled about it, but I accept it.

I was swimming because I wasn't running, or at least that's how it had started. I bought a swim cap. Royal blue, my favorite color. I started going to the pool, which is warm and usually deserted at 5am. I've never had swimming lessons but I've always liked being in the water. Treading water, floating on my back, the ease and gravity-defying power of it. I never thought about swimming as a sport or an exercise, it was just like this thing I did on vacation, or to avoid drowning. But lately it has become something more. Somehow swimming has become something I do for me, for joy. I don't care how I look or what anyone else thinks of me when I swim. It's just me and the sea (err, heated indoor pool). It doesn't matter how long I stay or how far I go. Speed and time are irrelevant here, because it's not about performance. It's about play. There is no achievement or accomplishment, only experimentation and enjoyment. I just show up and mess around in the water, letting my arms and legs and core and breath move in sync. A few months ago, I had this thought - that came from the well of weird thoughts deep within, the source of all my very best ideas - and it was like what if we did one of those flip things? Later someone told me this is called a flip turn. I had no idea how to do it, other than some vague memory of seeing Olympic swimmers on TV many years ago. But somehow I did a flip underwater. And then I kept doing them until I could swim, flip, swim, flip, over and over until I felt like stopping. I'm sure my technique isn't the "right" way to do it, but that doesn't matter. I'm not doing it for anyone else, I'm doing it for me. Because I want to. Because it's silly and fun and I take comfort in the underwater solitude, the three planes of motion, the respite from the expectations and judgments of the world above.

I had tendinitis in my ankle about 8 years ago and I felt so desolate at the time. Now here I am, same problem, different tendon. But I feel ok about it because I'm a different Jen. I'm not flipping out about it (Though maybe the literal flipping is an antidote to flipping out. Who knows. In any case, spiraling through the water is way more fun than spiraling into a black hole of sad thoughts). It hasn't been all sunshine and smooth sailing of course. I've had some low moments. It sucks to be injured. Though I hesitate to call it that. I'm not at 100%, obviously. There are things I want to do that I can't do right now. But I don't really feel "injured" or "damaged." I mean, my body is still doing all these other lovely and magical things. Like swimming and Jacob's Laddering and healing my tendons. It's doing new things all the time that I never even dreamed it could do. I'm starting to think that the reason I love running isn't about running at all. It's about my body and the way it moves through the world. It's about tuning out all the noise about what a body should be or do or look like and enjoying the experience of actually living in one. It's about appreciating what my body can do in this moment and listening to what it needs. It's about connecting to myself. And to the truth. That all bodies are unique and amazing.

I watched Captain Marvel on a transatlantic flight last year. I don't know if it was the elevation or the travel fatigue or the fact of being an adolescent in the 1990's, but I cried during that scene set to No Doubt's I'm Just A Girl. I'm no Brie Larson and I have no fighting skills, but when she said "I've been fighting with one hand tied behind my back. What happens when I'm finally set free?" I understood the sentiment. (Too bad the rest of the movie was disappointing in the way that all superhero movies are disappointing to me. They're all fight scenes and flashy effects, and no one seems to understand that force and physical strength aren't what make someone super. But I digress). Maybe it's cheesy to say, but I feel like the past few years have been about unlearning the things that were holding me back and figuring out how to be set free. And then a whole lot of, oh well what the fuck do I do now? How do I exist in the world as the person I am becoming? I'm not sure where I belong now. Some of the things I used to do no longer feel right for me. I am embracing rest and there aren't many spaces that encourage that mindset. I know now that my worth is inherent (as is everyone's), not tied to productivity or appearance or usefulness. But capitalist thinking, and this culturally created hierarchy that treats some bodies better than other bodies, are seemingly everywhere and it's hard to escape that (except for literally being underwater). Running was a way to connect with my fullest, freest self. Now I'm learning how to harness that inner potential outside of running. Sometimes it feels like I have to temporarily disconnect from the world in order to be more connected to myself. I am still trying to figure it all out.

One day I will no longer run. I will no longer swim or eat or breathe. I will no longer exist. At least not in the same physical form. I don't know what I'll be after that. I feel like it's either ghost or reincarnation or a memory in someone else's heart. I guess I'll find out when I get there. In the meantime, I'm going to keep exploring how to be alive in this weird, wonderful body that I am lucky enough to inhabit. From the outside, maybe I'm just a girl in a royal blue swim cap. But on the inside I'm infinitely more. Please bear with me while I figure out how to be an infinite being in a finite body. Bonus points if you are an actual bear. Because bears get it. They hibernate all winter, resting and preparing for spring, when they will emerge again in all their bear-y awesomeness. No promises on that front. I doubt I'm going to do anything super cool in spring or anything. But I might emerge back into the world a bit more rested, rejuvenated and, in all likelihood, even more ridiculous than ever.

Lyric of the moment: "I wanna leave something good behind, when you remember me. This is for the ones that always got our backs. To better days ahead, never looking back. And the songs we sing to get by. All the ones we love below and above, the rebels and the saints..." ~Strung Out "Rebels & Saints"

10 days in Belize

I was standing at a bike rack outside a supermarket in Placencia, a village on the Caribbean coast of Belize, watching some dogs casually walking through the door like they're about to do some grocery shopping. This Canadian guy (let's call him Friendly Drunk Fievel. Not his real name - sadly, he was not in fact a mouse from An American Tail) pulled into the parking lot in a golf cart, struck up a conversation and offered to give me and the bikes a ride back to the hotel. I was not about to get in this golf cart, a tiny bit because I read a book about serial killers on the plane ride, but mostly because he'd rolled up while drinking a beer and was telling this rambling story about smashing his kids' iPads and hiding the TV in the closet because everyone spends too much time on screens, and someone stole his laundry but then brought it back, and the Barefoot Bar in town is his living room or some shit (WTF? I have no idea). Pete had come out of the store at this point and could not make sense of his story either. Thankfully Fievel had forgotten about his offer to give us a ride by this point and drove off with his beer while we biked back to the hotel.

This grocery store was like a nexus of weirdness though because later in the week we stopped here again and ran into the guy who'd sat next to us on the plane ride from Toronto to Belize City. In the 10 minute conversation we had with him while waiting for the plane to take off, he had told us about his house in Canada, his other house in Belize, and his business. He also mentioned how he once bought something in a Belize store and paid in Canadian dollars and the proprietor mistakenly thought that Canadian dollars were equivalent to US dollars (US dollars are accepted most places in Belize because the Belize dollar is pegged to the US dollar so $2BZ equals $1US). At the time of this story, the Canadian dollar was worth less than the US dollar, but our seatmate didn't tell the Belize guy this. Instead, he asked if he could trade in the rest of the Canadian money he had (about $800!) for Belize dollars. So seatmate guy, who owns at least 2 houses and a business, just casually tells us about how he defrauded some unsuspecting Belize guy. Is this what passes for small talk among the rich? "Can you believe this weather? It's almost too hot to casually commit crimes! Harharhar, as if! Every day is a good day for corruption!" When we ran into him at the store, Racketeer Rod (not his real name, probably) stopped to talk to us but thankfully didn't offer us a ride in his truck. I want to get better at calling people out on their shit instead of silently disliking them. I can do it with people I know - I sass Pete constantly. But it's harder with strangers, for some reason. I'm still working on this.

Lest you think Belize is all about running into randos at the grocery store preferred by dogs, let me start from the beginning. Pete and I spent 10 days in Belize at the end of November. We'd found direct flights from Toronto to Belize City that were relatively inexpensive and it was only a 4.5 hour flight (Thanks, Westjet!). Belize is a gorgeous mix of rainforests and beaches and Mayan ruins. At one point, it's estimated that there were a million Mayans living in Belize, but the country's population today is only about 400,000 people. It was invaded by the Spanish (sad face) and colonized by the British (super sad face) so English is the official language of Belize, though most people speak multiple languages (Creole, Spanish and/or some of the 3 dialects of Mayan). Belize gained independence in 1981 and had its first official Pride March in 2017. The National Bird is the toucan! And yes, I did wear my toucan shorts.

Belize has excellent taste in National birds

We booked the trip through Adventure Life, who are always great (we used them when we went to Costa Rica and when I went to the Galapagos Islands). We spent 4 nights inland in the jungle, where we stayed at Pook's Hill Lodge and 6 nights in Placencia, where we stayed at the beachfront Robert's Grove Resort.

Jungle Adventures

I can't say enough good things about Pook's Hill and the amazing guides (Thanks Mike and Mario!), cooks and staff. When we arrived, they said we'd been upgraded to a new room (!) and lead us down this raised walkway to a cute bungalow on stilts. In the jungle. Like really in the jungle, surrounded by trails and the sounds of jungle animals, a 5.5 mile drive down a rocky dirt road away from the nearest main road. There is no WiFi in the bungalows, only in the "happy hour" lounge in the main building, so you can really disconnect and enjoy the surroundings and the delicious meals, which are served family style. Every day, coffee is at 6:30am, breakfast is at 7:00am, happy hour/snack hour is at 6:00pm and dinner is at 7:00pm (they also serve lunch at mid-day but we were out on excursions every day so we didn't eat lunch at the lodge). They even put out almond milk for me, had plenty of vegan/vegetarian options and served us vegan chocolate cake for dessert on our last night! This is also the only hotel where I've ever met, let alone had dinner with, the owner. Vicki is one of the owners at Pook's and she chatted with us at happy hour every day, then she and her friend joined us for dinner on our last night.

Our jungle bungalow (jungalow?)

Happy hour/hammock lounge

Moon over jungalow

Tarantula coming to happy hour

One of the guides from Pook's picked us up from the Belize City airport and we stopped at the Belize Zoo on the way to the lodge. I have mixed feelings about zoos but this one at least only had animals native to Belize and they were all either rescues of some sort or the offspring of the rescues. We saw monkeys, tapirs (kinda like a rhino without a horn), coatimundi, a jabiru (a large, beautiful stork), jaguars and this macaw that came over to us and crooned "Hello" ("from the other side. I must have called a thousand times..." I hope he got a writing credit on that Adele song).

Tapirs: up to 500 lbs of cuteness!

There were a bunch of excursion options (day trips from Pook's with the guides) and we had picked Cave Tubing & Ziplining, Black Hole Drop and Mountain Pine Ridge.

The cave tubing and ziplining was at this place run by a company called Butts Up. We did an easy 30 minute hike on a trail through a cave system, carrying our inner tubes and helmets, then lazy rivered our way through the dark caves and turquoise waters of the Cave's Branch River. We had lunch onsite, then did the ziplining, which was fun but the easiest ziplining I've ever done. These 2 guides accompanied us the whole way and hooked us up at each zipline (the other ziplines we've done have been more like high ropes courses and you have to hook up all the carabiners and do all the work yourself). It was also the only zipline place I've been to where there were no waivers to sign, no weight limits, and no real instructions other than to go fast and only brake if/when they tell you to.

The black hole drop was my absolute favorite thing we did in Belize (other than all the burrito and fajita and chips & guac eating). Pete and I got dropped off at Ian Anderson's Cave's Branch lodge, then three guides took us on a semi-strenuous hike through the jungle and up to the edge of a collapsed limestone cave system, where we rappelled over a 300ft cliff. We got to eat lunch on the cavern floor before hiking back up through caves, up a ladder and on jungle trails back to the start. Along the way we saw a 4ft black tailed indigo snake (not venomous and actually eats poisonous snakes). At one point going up a trail, Ching stopped us and said "put your hand here and your foot here and don't touch this root - the sap is poisonous and will eat away your skin." Which makes rappelling into the void on ropes attached to ancient looking trees seem easy and not at all terrifying after you've survived a forest of killer plants and snakes (plus also their antidotes, conveniently! The rainforest is a magical, albeit slightly murdery, ecosystem).

A lot of things can kill you here! But also cure you!

Going over the edge!

Into the void

Rappellin' Pete

Cave Man

This species of ladder is not indigenous to jungle

In the Mountain Pine Ridge area, we went to an overlook to see Thousand Feet Falls, then got to swim at Rio On Pools and Big Rock Falls. The water was "refreshing," as Mario said when I asked if it was cold. But the weather was warm and humid and we had the pools and waterfalls practically to ourselves so it was a great day. The busy tourist season in Belize doesn't start until December so we came at the perfect time.

Mario drove us from Pook's to Robert's Grove in Placencia on our last day and we stopped at St. Herman's Blue Hole on the way. Another amazing natural pool to swim in. Also "refreshing."

Lacey circus acts

Beach Adventures

Robert's Grove is more of a traditional hotel than Pook's, in that our room had air conditioning, a TV and WiFi. It was a beautiful place, with a beach and three pools, and the staff was very nice. The only downside is that it's 4 miles from the town of Placencia. The hotel offers a free shuttle to town at 10am and 3pm, but then you have to pay for a taxi or bus ride back. Or rent a golf cart for $65. Or call Friendly Drunk Fievel I guess. The day we arrived, we borrowed bikes from RG and rode into town and back, but the bikes don't have lights so they told us to be back at the hotel by 5pm. On Thanksgiving/National Day of Mourning, I ran to town (wearing my toucan shorts obvi!), had a delicious coconut milk frappuccino at Brewed Awakenings (a coffee/smoothie place with an excellent name), then ran back to the hotel. It was super hot and humid and I seriously considered taking the bus back, but I made it. I'm not sure if anyone owns any of the dogs in Belize or if they just kind of belong to everyone. Part of me hopes it's the second one. Wouldn't it be nice if we all belonged to and took care of everyone?

The view from our room at RG

This cat joined us for breakfast at RG every day

We spent our time in Placencia swimming in the sea, walking around town, eating, relaxing and watching HGTV (we don't have cable at home so the only time I see HGTV is at hotels. We watched this one episode of Property Brothers where they were renovating a house and found a huge snake in the wall! I mean, snakes are cool and all. In the outdoors. Where they live. Not so much lurking inside the walls. Nope Nope Nope!). One afternoon, after we'd been swimming on a particularly windy/wavy day, Pete was in the Pool and Raffi (a guide from RG) was like "Oh on days like this, the water is full of sting rays. We had a lady get stung here last week." So the sea is also full of things that can kill you. Good murdery times all around!

We took a snorkeling trip to Laughing Bird Caye (pronounced "key"), where we saw some beautiful coral, fish and pelicans. I also got sunburned on the entire back side of my body, despite wearing sunscreen (it was reef safe sunscreen, but apparently not Jen safe). Though the hot pain of the sunburn made me forget about the itchiness of my mosquito bites, so tiny silver lining I guess.

From RG, we also did a day trip to Nim Li Punit Mayan ruins and the Akte 'Il Ha Cacao Farm. Nim Li Punit is Kekchi Mayan for "Big Hat," so called because a sculpture was found there depicting a king wearing a large headdress. The site was discovered by oil prospectors in 1976. The Mayans occupied it from around 400-850AD. At the chocolate farm, we got to see how the chocolate is made by hand (and eat some too!).

The guy with the big hat

Crushing up those cacao beans

All of the excursions we did in Belize were with licensed guides (presumably because they don't wanting tourists ruining the rainforests or coral or dying from snake bite/tree poison/sting rays), which was great because we got to hear stories about their lives and Belize culture. The best part of travel is having conversations about different ways of living and thinking and being a person in the world. I am continually learning about how other people experience the world differently than I do (but also how we all have some things in common). I now realize how some things I learned from school or absorbed from Western culture/society are biased or just plain incorrect and how some of the opinions I once had were problematic or ignorant. Embarrassingly, before this trip I didn't even know that Mayan people still existed in the world. I don't remember ever learning about them in school, other than about how they were killed by European colonizers. But most of the local people we met in Belize were Mayan and they knew so much about the plants and animals around them, it was really cool. Though I'm kind of glad it's too cold at home for all the poisonous things, except stupid poison ivy and Lyme disease infested ticks. Mike and Mario were also really into bird-watching, which I had no idea was actually like a competitive sport with rankings and everything. And the best part of the Nim Li Punit tour was Raffi telling us about his grandma who was an expert in Mayan medicines and could apparently levitate. I would like some of that medicine myself!

Every trip we take, I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to explore new places, learn new things and do cool shit like repelling into a collapsed cave. And I get to experience it all with my favorite adventure partner/husband man.

Flying over Belize in a tiny plane!

On our last morning in Placencia, we flew out of the tiny local airport on this like 10-person plane to Belize City. The twenty minute flight in this tiny plane was one of my favorite things we did. I also liked running by this airport while we were staying in town. It's right on the main road and there's only a tiny gate in the road that comes down to stop traffic while planes take off (this gate is a relatively recent addition after a plane crashed into a car during takeoff a couple years ago. No one was hurt, thankfully). We flew from Belize City to Toronto, then drove home to Rochester. Then woke up and shoveled snow. From the rainforest back to the tundra. So it goes. I hope my body and my mind (and let's be honest, my bank account) will be up for many more future travels. And that Pete and Jen's excellent adventures will continue for decades to come.

Lyrics of the moment (For Steve & Mookie): "He was guiding me, love, his own way. Now the man (dog) of the hour is taking his final bow. As the curtain comes down, I feel that this is just goodbye for now..."   "I'll ride the wave where it takes me. I'll hold the pain, release me..." ~Pearl Jam "Man of the Hour" and "Release Me"

Turn and face the strange

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"

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.

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.

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. 

Underground amusement park!

Being weird on a salt covered ferris wheel underground. As you do.

We're in a boat!

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.     

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. 

My dog friend

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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Castle security

Best travel crew

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"

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. 

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.