My spiritual quest

Without intentionally setting out to do so, I have found myself on a spiritual quest that began several years ago. At least that's how I've come to think of it. Except that I don't even really know what a spiritual quest is.

So how do I know I'm on one?

At first I just guessed. Thinking back, I think it started during a period of my life that I felt really isolated and alone, so I sought out community, a sense of fellowship, and authentic connections with others. A little later I made a conscious decision to make lifestyle changes that would support a longer, healthier life. As I lost weight and placed a never-before-sought focus on developing my athletic ability, I realized mental and emotional strength were required to stay committed to achieving my goals. Soon after that I began to see running as my opportunity to practice bettering myself, in all ways. I wrote about it here. This opportunity to practice being my best self and to connect with others who are doing the same has now become the reason I run.

So, what exactly does this have to do with spirituality? What is spirituality anyway?

I asked Google for definitions of "spirituality" and found these (plus many others):

 “the search for meaning in life events and a yearning for connectedness to the universe” (Coles 1990)

. …refers to a broad set of principles that transcend all religions. Spirituality is about the relationship between ourselves and something larger. That something can be the good of the community or the people who are served by your agency or school or with energies greater than ourselves. Spirituality means being in the right relationship with all that is. It is a stance of harmlessness toward all living beings and an understanding of their mutual interdependence.” (Kaiser 2000)

Source: http://nccc.georgetown.edu/body_mind_spirit/definitions_spirituality_religion.html

And this:

"spirituality is the aspect of humanity that refers to the way individuals seek and express meaning and purpose and the way they experience their connectedness to the moment, to self, to others, to nature, and to the significant or sacred."

Source: http://www.takingcharge.csh.umn.edu/enhance-your-wellbeing/purpose/spirituality/what-spirituality


YES!

My spiritual quest is about fulfilling the yearning, the search for meaning and connection to all that is. The recognition that all living beings are interdependent and that I want to live my life in such a way that honors and respects our connectedness, and contribute to the greater good.

But this is a big idea, and I don't really know how to actually go about it. So, I seek out people with whom I can have conversations that help me broaden my perspective and who inspire me to be my best. Because when I am my best, I am most capable of having something positive to contribute to others.

But on my quest, sometimes funny things happen and other times I make wrong turns. The other day I caught myself feeling frustrated about a hip injury that has kept me from running as much as I would like, and in my frustration I thought "When will I finally heal so I can get on with the business of being my best self??!!"

Huh.

HUH!

Duh.

Maybe, Christy, this is the perfect opportunity to practice. Being your best isn't about how well you perform, its about all of the things you do every day to be better than the day before. It's about showing up every day and putting in the effort, both physical and emotional, to address weaknesses and overcome obstacles. You KNOW this....and its OK to remind yourself whenever you need it.

I've been trying to write this post for months and it still doesn't adequately reflect the depth of thought I've put into it....but it's something, so I'm publishing it.

Ciao!

Success, however minor, feels so dang good!

I can't write about some of what's on my mind lately, which has made this blog a little...pointless. However, my fingers have been itching a bit so, thankfully, I finally have something to say about Mothering. And other things (...maybe...we'll see).

So, Alex. My sweet, imaginative, introspective, shy, curious 9-year-old Alex is also the world's biggest mess maker. He spends hours alone in his room creating masterpieces out of every. single. Lego. And matchbox car. And puzzle piece. And magic trick prop. You get the idea.

Or maybe you need a visual.

I just happen to have a few. None are of his room, but I think they substantiate my claim very well.

Exhibit A: Hard to see, I know, but it was the middle of the night. I woke up to Alex in my room with all of his bedding, a giant pile of books, a flashlight, and other various stuffed animals and other nighttime necessities. You see how quickly this kind of thinking can get out of hand?

You'll have to look close to find Alex...

Exhibit B: This is how Alex packs to spectate a 60-minute soccer game. The backpack is so heavy he can barely lift it. Note that a portable electric keyboard is essential, but shoes are not.

Shoes are an afterthought.

Oh, and here's one from 7 years ago. When he was 2. Literally, every single toy.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when I saw this.

And here are two more, just because he's so stinkin' cute!

Unfortunately, this kind of mess is nearly a daily occurrence. We try to stay on top of it by requiring him to clean up every evening before bed. This works reasonably well, though it does require adult supervision to break it down to manageable steps (first, start by putting all the books back on the bookshelf; next put all the cars back in their bin, etc). Inevitably though life happens and we have a couple of late nights and let it slide, or he has a meltdown and refuses to clean up at which point I pack all of the toys on the floor in a big black trash bag and keep them for a week or two until I think he's gotten the point, then we put them all back where they belong and start the whole maddening cycle all over again.

We've tried other things besides threats and punishments. We've offered incentives, encouraged him to get rid of some things, and spent hours upon hours helping him sort and organize only to have our hard work undone when it all ends up together in a giant cornucopia in the center of his room two days later.

Until now...

A few weeks ago, at wit's end, I devised a plan. There was no drama involved either. Just a recognition from both sides that we couldn't go on as we had been. According to this plan, all toys were taken out of his room and put into clear plastic sets of drawers in my closet (which is enormous and just screaming for a purpose other than collecting clothes and shoes I certainly don't need).

All of Alex's toys neatly organized into drawers.

Empty shelves = bliss!

Yes, that is a flashing neon sign with the words Man Cave on his wall.

Alex is allowed to play with his toys anytime as long as he gets adult permission, and all of the toys have to go back in their place before bed. This might sounds like micromanagement to some parents out there, and others will probably say I just haven't done a good job teaching my child how to clean up after himself. But to those parents I say "phooey"! While my house may not be spotless, it is orderly and both of my children are expected to clean up after themselves (after mealtimes, for example) and have daily chores. My older son, while not perfect either, has learned to keep the mess in his room to a manageable level and we rarely experience conflict on this front.

To my surprise, Alex welcomed the structure. He no longer has to feel overwhelmed by the task of cleaning up. He likes having wide open spaces to play and draw. I love getting to just love on my prince instead of succumbing to being a screaming witch over futile attempts to restore order. 

So there you go. Mothering! I guess Other Things will have to wait til next time...

Post-Race Reflections

At the finish line of the Colorado Marathon

I am so proud of my friend, Renee, who overcame a calf tear and a good deal of self-doubt to complete her first half marathon! We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day and the race was well organized. We had to take a bus to the start and then had a little over an hour until race time, which could have been miserable if the weather was cold. As it was, we chatted about race strategy for a bit before warming up with a slow mile run and some stretching. I was there with the sole purpose of supporting my friend, pacing her to a finish. Her training had been truncated by an injury so her longest run (ever) was 10 miles and she was averaging around 9:30 pace during training runs. Our race strategy was as follows: run miles 1-4 at easy, relaxed pace, about 10 seconds slower than goal pace of 9:30; miles 4-10 pick it up to goal pace of 9:30, which we expected to be a nice cruising speed; if she was feeling good, we would pick up the pace to 9:20 or better during the last 3 miles, and if she was not feeling so good, we would just hang on to our cruising speed.

And that's exactly what we did. I was so impressed with Renee's perfect execution of our strategy! She didn't go out too fast and kept the pace easy during those first miles (I ran behind her to make sure I didn't influence her pace). I know she was anxious initially but was able to settle in and relax to hit her cruising pace of 9:30 for the middle miles. There was a decent hill between miles 10 and 11 so we decided it would be better mentally to plan to pick up the pace after the hill. At this point, I moved out front to help push the pace a bit and Renee hung on like a champ! She finished strong with the final mile of the race the fastest at 9:00 exactly. It really was textbook perfect. Our final time was a respectable 2:09:35, which placed Renee in the top 50% for her age division. Since her goal was simply to finish, she was thrilled with the outcome and I was happy to have been able to contribute to her achievement.

But....I would be lying if I said I didn't ache a little with the disappointment of not achieving my own goal. It stung a little to see my running buddy, Chris, finish in 1:33, knowing I kept pace with him during long runs and track workouts up to the last 6 weeks of training. I felt bitter that I let yet another opportunity pass to meet my goal, when mere weeks ago I was feeling stronger and faster than I ever have before. I feel certain that if I could have kept up with my training I would have met my goal (and possibly even my super secret goal finish time).

So....what did I learn and where do I go from here? I learned that I could let go of my ego and truly enjoy helping someone else meet their goal. I learned that I actually can execute a race strategy well (I rarely achieve negative splits in my own races). I learned that I have acquired knowledge and experience that can help others - I typically think I am the one who needs schooling - but this day I was able to see how far I have come from my beginner days, which really aren't that long ago....so I can both remember what it felt like to simply be worried about whether or not I could finish and have the insight to know that it was entirely within Renee's capability to meet her goal. I also learned that I am not done with this quest to achieve my goal and that if I don't figure out how to get there, I may never be able to rest.

I don't know exactly what comes next. The only thing on the horizon is a loose plan to pace a friend for 20 of her 100-miler in June. It will give me a chance to see up close what ultra running looks like (I'm not expecting pretty...but I'm hoping it will be inspirational...?) My goal at present is to get back to running 6 days/week and raise my base to 50 weekly miles. I'm also pretty sure I'll run a local trail half in September and full in October...for fun. I'll be focused on pushing past my mind telling me my limitations and looking for trails that lift my spirit. And maybe, hopefully, I'll discover that no matter what happens, I'm still a runner.

Giving back

Tomorrow I'll run the race I had been training for before I crashed. I won't be racing, but instead I'll be pacing a friend to her first half marathon finish. I am pleased to discover that I have something to offer to a newer runner. I typically think of myself as the one with everything to learn, but tomorrow I'll be able to share race strategy tips from others and from my own experience. It feels good to be able to give back.

Facing a fear

I wore a watch today for the first time in awhile. Here's how it looked:

1.25 mile warm up @ 8:20 pace
1600 @ 6:41
1200 @ 5:03
800 @ 3:11
800 @ 3:10
1.25 mile cool down @ 8:30 pace

Short and sweet...and not as slow as I feared. Maybe this love affair isn't over after all...

Still here

I see you there, running. I see you in the sunny morning, perfect for a long, leisurely trail run. I see you in packs of like-minded people, pursuing their passion. I see you running fast, swift, strong. I feel your joy, and I relish it from my distant vantage point. I see you in my closet, overflowing with shoes both tired and worn and a few still pretty new, waiting for their turn to go out again. I see you asking me if I'll race next week...hopeful, maybe, that I haven't given up. I see you on the roads and on the trails and in my mind.

I know that you know I am watching you from afar, and I know that you are looking for me too. Looking for a sign that I'm still here. This is your sign. I'm here. But I'm not the same, running. It hurts now....my whole body hurts. I run, but not like I used to. Not like I want to. I run until my body tells me to stop, and then I stop. No desire to keep moving forward. I stop when it hurts, and sometimes I sit down. 

The pain is overwhelming, running. But I'm getting help. Help you couldn't give me, and I could not have expected to come from you. I have a whole team, actually, helping me deal with the pain of past and present. 

Like all religions, running, an element of faith is required. I am putting faith in you, running, that you will be there for me when I have worked through the pain and emerge a whole, healed person. In the meantime, I'll do what I can to help and support others, and to give as much of me as I can to you. And I expect, in the end, that you'll give back to me tenfold.

Dear Running

Dear Running,

I have to go away for awhile. I don't know exactly where I'm going or how long I'll be gone, only that I have to go. Please know, it makes me very sad to leave you behind.

I'm not sure exactly what's led up to this. It can't be blamed entirely for that time I jumped off the cliff and got injured. You were there, true, but I understand you were powerless to stop me from falling. I think it has more to do with the box I've put you in. I thought by putting you in a box I could keep you safe from the dangerous things that can happen when you love something too much. But it's hard to breathe inside that box, I know, and that's left both of us panicked.

I won't be alone where I'm going. I'll have George Sheehan, Matt Fitzgerald, and other writers to keep me company and give me hope. Perhaps I'll occasionally visit you here. I trust that you'll be waiting for me when I'm ready to come back.

With great sadness,
Christy

Chaos to clarity (and back again) and intentions for 2015

I seem to alternate between periods where my thoughts are chaotic and disorganized and periods of total clarity. And the thing is, I always seem to experience chaos/clarity in all aspects of my life simultaneously (at least those where I am trying to grow) - I'm never crystal clear at work, and disorganized and chaotic about running goals, for example. However, when clarity comes, it is universal too. I can often go for weeks, even months, uncertain about my direction or path...sometimes just going on faith that the plans I've laid are the best ones, but not really feeling certain... until *SNAP* all at once, I know just what to do to move forward.

Interestingly, running seems to help me get to that point of clarity, and writing serves to solidify it. Writing can be nearly impossible for me during those disorganized periods...but once I've achieved clarity, I feel compelled to write (this is probably an unconscious attempt to preserve all those hard earned clear thoughts).

I think I started this post in a moment of clarity, but now, a few weeks later, I think I'm tipping back to chaos again...(sigh). Going to try to stop the slide by posting some intentions for 2015. I wrote these in my run journal a few weeks ago, but reiterating them here may bring them back into focus:

• Run more miles
• Focus on full recovery between hard run efforts
• Strength train to correct imbalances and avoid injury
• Learn something new (I'm thinking it's going to be learning to use a pottery wheel)
• Do fewer things, but do them well
• Love bravely (more on this later)

Thoughts on risk taking

Thoughts on risk taking:

I am a calculated risk taker

Who likes adventure

Taking risks, when the outcome was good, has enriched my life

Taking risks, when the outcome was not good, has caused me alot of pain....but also eventually enriched my life

Running is my religion.

I wrote this post a few months ago, but never finished it. I'm in a little different place now and not sure it doesn't resonate quite as much as it did when I wrote it...but its still good so I thought I'd post it for the sake of not losing the thoughts. I'm sure I'll come back to this one again.

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This one took me awhile to work out. The thought just popped into my head one day last fall: "Running is my religion". I knew it was true for me, but I struggled to put it into words. I think I've finally got it down. In my head....now let's see if I can put that thought to "paper".

Thinking back to last fall when the thought first occurred, running was going so well! I'd spent the summer working hard on the track and in the gym, I'd started working with a new coach which expanded my running community, and I set several new PR's. I felt good and strong and committed. I had also been going through some hard times and running offered a reprieve - it helped me focus on the present, get out of my head and just be in my body.

Then disaster struck in the form of a femoral stress fracture, which required months of physical therapy, no running at all for 6 weeks, and a shift in focus from "training" to "healing". This experience challenged my patience, my ability to be kind to others (especially other non-injured runners), and my self-confidence (Was I really a runner if I wasn't running? Would I ever be able to get back to where I was?)

So....I did ALOT of thinking, and I read about 27,000 books about running and mindfulness, and suddenly it all came together! So, here goes:

Running gives me purpose, and a way to practice being my best self. It gives me a reason to take loving care of the body I've been given, to nourish it by eating healthy foods and to avoid (excessive) alcohol and sweets. Running offers me an opportunity to practice kindness and compassion for others who are struggling to maintain motivation to run or who have been sidelined by injury. It also has made me confront aspects of myself that I don't like, such as envy, pettiness, and comparing myself with others.

Running has also caused me to think about my priorities. With running at the helm, it is easier to let go of people and things (like cookies) that don't serve me. But it also highlights where my priorities are out of order, such as when my run plan becomes more important than time with my husband or not being available when my kids need me. Running gives me the chance to practice gratitude for my health, my environment, and my supportive husband.

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Since I'm still practicing letting go of perfect, I'm going to go ahead and post this even though it's not quite finished.

Ciao, for now.

Letting go of perfect

This might be the hardest post yet. I've started it at least 10 times, but never made it past the title. You (I) see, originally I wanted to write about my struggle letting go of a need to be perfect at everything all the time. But as I've mulled this over I realized that while this is mostly true, what's even more true for me is that I need to be perceived by others as being perfect at everything all the time.

Ugh.

What an ugly truth!

There's a kind of martyrdom in perfectionism. There are worse things in life than striving for perfection. Perfectionists tend to work hard and accomplish alot. They produce quality work and persist through struggle to overcome obstacles. In their quest for perfect, people often tell perfectionists to not work so hard, not worry so much, not be so hard on themselves. In my world, these are compliments. "Don't work so hard!" = Strong work ethic! "Don't worry so much!" = You really care about what you do! "Don't be so hard on yourself" = You are humble.

[Two weeks has passed since I wrote what is above]:

Oh man, I just can't seem to finish this post...but I really want to get something down (because my thoughts only become real when I write them down). So I'm going to finish this post with a bulleted list of thoughts that don't have a cohesive beginning, middle, or end/conclusion (how's that for embracing good enough?!!):

• The need to appear perfect is a quality of perfectionism (at their core, perfectionists know they can't actually be perfect all the time, which results in feelings of anxiety and shame....which results in a mad cycle of Striving for perfect > Not achieving perfect (because it's impossible) > Anxiety and shame > Working harder to be perfect).
• I've been trying to understand perfectionism vs. striving to do well by reading what others have to say on the topic. I like this blog post and I like pretty much everything I've ever read or heard by Brene Brown (links to TED talks here). I just ordered her book Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. (Side note: After spending 20 minutes trying to figure out how to insert an accented e into this text, I decided to let go of perfect in favor of getting this damn post done, so Brene reads like it's pronounced "Breen", when in fact it is "Bre-nay". But it's OK. I'm embracing imperfect).
• A wise mentor and friend frequently reminds me "Don't let perfect get in the way of good" (or simply done, for that matter). This is a good daily reminder for me.
• It's important to try to understand the roots of perfectionism and how to break the cycle, because it appears that perfectionism is taught (not ingrained in our DNA, as the image above suggests). I learned it from my parents, and I'm teaching it to my kids.

I'll come back to this one I'm sure, but that's enough for now.

Ciao, baby...

Keeping myself sane

Writing is such a painful process for me. So, why do it, you ask (you, who is actually me, since nobody reads this)? I think I write to relieve the pressure of the constant running dialogue occurring in my head. And I do mean dialogue...in my head I ask and answer questions and offer differing viewpoints as would two or more people having a discussion. These conversations with myself happen all day long, and often in the middle of the night as well. Writing down my thoughts gives them somewhere else to be, and allows for self-expression (expulsion?) without having to subject other people to the minutiae of my brain. My dear, patient husband gets enough of this already. Writing my thoughts down also makes them somehow more legitimate....like they don't exist until they're in clear, written form.

Whew, had to get that thought down in writing....it's been driving me a little insane.

Speaking of insanity, I'm still not running. OK, well, I did get to run three times this week, if you call 3 minutes running followed by 2 minutes walking for 15 minutes total every other day "running". I can literally feel my goals for this season slipping away....I realize this negative thinking is not helpful, but this no running thing is the pits.

I did get a good laugh out of Lauren Fleshman's recent article in Runner's World "How to Injure Yourself Like a Pro".

http://www.runnersworld.com/sites/default/files/screwupmar500x310_0.jpg

It turns out I have more in common with elite runners than I thought, at least when it comes to avoiding injury. You can read the full article here. I love Lauren. I wish we could be friends. We kind of are, in my head.

But enough about running...or not running, as it were. Let's talk about something else that has been swimming around in my head for awhile: men. Specifically, how much I love them. Actually, let's not leave out the boys. Let's talk about all male humans. Or, at least the loveable ones. I don't really want to talk about the creepers right now because for much of my life men were all kind of creepers to me, but they're not anymore, so I want to celebrate that.

OK, so Men (and boys). Why do I love them? What do I love about them? Why did it take me so long to figure out how great they are? Which men in my life made me realize their greatness? Why am I still a little afraid to love them?

Let's start at the top: Why do I love men? The first thing that comes to mind is their physical and emotional strength. This is a generalization of course, (I also know many physically and emotionally strong women) but it is true of many men I admire. As frustrating as it can sometimes be, women athletes have not achieved the physical feats of men. I find men's strength and speed and physical ability inspirational. They set the bar high for us. The men I admire for their emotional strength are not swayed in their decision-making by emotional highs and lows. I realize that what appears to be emotional strength in some men is in reality a mask for pain or lack of sensitivity to more subtle feelings...but I do think that men, in general, tend to think with logic and reason without getting all mixed up in a jumble of emotions. This makes men great to work with and it also makes them great friends (though the jury is still out for me on whether true platonic friendship between men and women is possible, but more on that later).

Other things I love about men (and boys): they like to get dirty (and I'm talking about actually dirt here), they rarely obsess over their appearance, they find humor in bodily functions (oh my goodness, my boys' fart humor makes a mama proud), and they are great at building with Legos (more generalizing, I know). I also admire the way men speak with authority, even about things they don't know that much about (though I could make an opposing argument about how annoying this is).

So, why did it take me so long to figure out how great men are? I can honestly say the realization that I love men, not just a specific man, came to me like a light bulb turning on a year or so ago. My delayed appreciation might have something to do with the fact that I don't feel like I had much exposure to men/boys growing up and some of my early experiences were less than great. There are three girls in my family so my dad was seriously outnumbered in our household. And while my dad was certainly very present in my childhood, he is a very emotionally sensitive man so he didn't always seem like other Dads (with a capital D) to me - this is a good thing, actually, but it might have contributed to the foreignness of men/boys to me. I also didn't have great first boyfriend experiences. My first real boyfriend was manipulative and deceitful, and he ended our relationship in the worst possible way (by taking up with a new girl and not telling me about it, I had to figure it out on my own). It took me years to get over the pain of that relationship. Not long after that I learned my dad had cheated on my mom, which gave me another reason to distrust men. However, men were not just foreign and deceitful, but something to be feared. I'm not sure exactly how I arrived at this perception, but I suspect it came both from my parents wish to protect me and the myriad messages girls receive about not becoming victims of rape or other forms of violence. I still struggle with this one (alot).

Thankfully, I've since had many great experiences with men. I had a lengthy sometimes-boyfriend, sometimes friend relationship in college (I guess this might now be called a Friend With Benefits relationship, but I don't know...this became a pretty solid friendship and FWB seems cheap to me. I'm probably old fashioned. Or just old.) We seemed to always have each other, even when the other had another. While on the one hand this could seem like another occasion to feel demoralized or deceived, it actually felt very honest. We just really liked each other, but we didn't want to be exclusive. Other guys were possessive, Brian allowed me to be me, even if that meant I wanted to be with other people. Another man played a huge part in helping me get over my divorce from my first husband. I was 24 (that's a story for another post) and terrified that this mistake had damaged me so that no man would ever want to be with me again (seems silly now). John didn't care in the least, and even though it didn't last long (he was 10 years older and lived 2000 miles away), his acceptance of my past was enormously healing. And of course, there's my husband - he is the man I know best, and who has taught me the most about the wonders and joys (and challenges) of men.

It isn't just romantic relationships that have shed light on my love for men. I've had the opportunity to build great relationships with men with whom I work. Work is a setting I can really appreciate concrete, logical, critical thinking. It's also not just heterosexual men that I love. Some of my gay male friends are among the most compassionate, conscientious, and fun-loving people I know...and they are still men, with all those great manly qualities of rational decision making and displays of emotional strength. I love the men who are my neighbors, who show me how to tell my sons to "shake it off" when it's nothing serious, and who are always willing to lend their strength for heavy lifting or their fearlessness to check the house when I hear a funny noise and my husband is out of town. I love the men who have been my coaches and trainers for teaching me the things they know and encouraging me to push harder, reach higher, and go farther, and for just being there with me in silent company when I am defeated. I appreciate men especially during times when I am struggling with defeat and I don't want to talk about it - with men, I can just be and do, words are unnecessary. This is true in other situations with men, too. I like that I can say "are we cool?" and he says "yeah, we're cool" and I say "cool", and know that we really are.

So, now here comes the hard part, loving men also strikes a bit of fear in me, especially the unattached ones. It might herald from the foreignness of men, that I don't quite know how to be comfortable around them, so I'm always feeling a little guarded. Or maybe there's still some lingering distrust, so I always feel a little vulnerable. I've been told that my vulnerability makes me attractive...this sounds perverse, but I don't think that's how it was intended. It appears to bring out a desire in some men to protect or take care of me; it probably also makes me a target for men who seek to manipulate me. I'm generally not aware that I am giving off a vibe that alerts men to my vulnerability, and I am more careful about what I project as my awareness of this tendency has increased, but I also think this is just part of my nature. I am vulnerable with women, too. I am certain that this vulnerability also turns some men off...but I suppose I just don't get to know these men because they probably avoid me.

The jury is still out for me about whether men and women (or maybe just men and I) can have truly platonic close friendships. I have many male friends with whom I am certain there is no spark coming from either of us, but I wouldn't put any of them in the category of "close friend" with whom I'd share deep feelings like fear, shame, or even great joy. When I connect with men on this level, I find myself needing to pull away. I lose trust in my ability to love without being in love, or the possibility that I could be loved and cared for by a man in a non-sexual way. This makes me sad, when I think about it, because I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to connect deeply with as many people as I can during my life. Deep connections with people are what matter most to me, I think, and I've just spent this entire post contemplating how men offer a depth and richness to my life that women alone can not.

Perhaps I'll be able to get some resolution to this quandary of wanting close male relationships but being simultaneously fearful of them through my relationships with my sons as they grow into men. They are certainly giving me an education in physicality (boys really do play more rough than girls) and I am doing my best to ensure that they can correctly identify their emotions and to value femaleness. 

Or perhaps I need to take a cue from men and stop overthinking this and just be. That would probably be a start.

Whew, insanity (mostly) avoided for one more day. Thanks for listening, self. You're welcome, self, happy I could help.

This is Living with a capital L

A couple of nights ago as we were getting ready for a night out my husband asked if we should ride our bikes to our destination three miles away, and I responded sincerely and enthusiastically, "Sure!" despite the frigid temperature (I don't know what it was exactly, but it's been hovering around 0 to 10 below after dark lately) and the foot of packed snow and ice on the streets of our neighborhood (I hold my breath every time I come and go, certain my minivan will not make it).

Neither is my bike well-equipped for snow...my townie (more on that in a minute) is a converted 1980's Schwinn 10-speed with a moustache handlebar for comfort and three ample baskets for carrying veggies home from the farmer's market.

And ride we did! It was totally exhilarating. And it made me think - just a few years ago, I would never even have considered such a suggestion.

Now, granted, I've changed in a number of ways that have led me to this point. My husband has always been a bicycle aficionado...but it took me years to understand why on earth anyone would need more than one bike. I now own three (mountain, road, and townie - down from four, by the way, I sold my fixed gear recently), I understand bike porn, and my preferred mode of transportation for a night out is the bicycle. Still, I'm a relative novice and mostly a fair-weather rider.

So it turns out, this post isn't really about riding my bike in the snow...its about what happens when you push yourself out of your comfort zone.

That's where Living with a capital L happens.

Even as I write this, I realize the potential naivety of that statement and the luxury it implies. So a 40-something mom rides her bike to a book signing on a cold winter night, and you call that Living? Ho hum. But for me, it is an opportunity to remember (because in daily life, I sometimes forget) that I love the way experiencing new things makes me learn and grow, and that life really is too short not to take that opportunity to get out of your comfort zone every chance you get, in big and small ways.

And when you do, remember to savor the experience by being present to the cold air on your face, the reflection of moon on the snow that guides your way, the way your bike slips a little in the snow making you fear the loss of teeth is imminent...until, phew, solid ground reappears once again and the fear magically transforms to confidence.

Alex, testing the limits of what's comfortable

I'll never take you for granted again.

Running, please, please don't break up with me. I promise, I'll never take you for granted again.

It was careless of me to speak of us so lackadaisically, as if you aren't as essential to my well-being as eating, or breathing. As if I had control over my passion for you, like you are something to be contained.

I didn't mean it like that, really. I only meant that perhaps we were getting too enraptured, spending too much time together. And even when we weren't together, I was thinking about you, planning our next encounter. Maybe you've misunderstood and thought I meant that I don't care for you, or that I could give you up.

Not true, running. Not true.

It's not that I've wanted to stay away, I've been injured! And it's been hell! Let me tell you, those first few days after I told you I needed to take a break were torture. I was antsy and quick-tempered, short with my husband and kids (who am I kidding, I nearly bit the head off of anyone who came near). And, it's true, I'll admit, that after a few days apart I started to feel a little apathetic. I mused about how pleasant it was to have all that free time, and I fantasized about having beautiful feet, with all ten toenails. I started to lose sight of our goals... But, it's just that you've dominated my Sundays for so long! Just once, I thought, I could enjoy a lazy morning over bacon and eggs without worrying about impending gastrointestinal distress....I didn't mean I wanted that forever!

That fling with the stairmaster didn't mean anything, I swear. A desperate move, really. I was trying to find something to replace you (temporarily!)...but alas, running, you truly are the only one for me.

Have mercy.

Please. Come back to me.

I think you'll see I've changed. I'm stronger now. I've been taking care of myself - spending lots of quality time with the foam roller and doing so many single-leg squats that they almost resemble the form my trainer demonstrated. I can't guarantee we won't experience occasional setbacks...but please, give me a chance. Stop avoiding me and making it difficult to spend time together....I swear, I won't focus all of my energy on training for a race, getting faster and going farther....we can just be together, enjoying whatever the day brings. If I have to go back to that pole dancing class just to burn off some steam, with all that hip action and fancy choreography (there's a reason I'm a runner, let's not forget)...well, I just don't think I can take it.

If you'll just give us another chance I promise, I will never, ever, take you for granted again.

Confession of a Love Affair

I have a confession to make: I've been having a love affair.

With running.

It started rather casually, we'd been on-again, off-again for decades. There were years we really weren't close at all, though certain nostalgic moments, such as crisp fall days, would remind me of a fondness we'd once shared. Then, three(ish) years ago, I decided I kind of liked running...a lot. So I gave it some attention and it seemed to really like me back. And gradually, we've gotten closer, running and I.

But recently, running swept me off my feet! I've been in LOVE! Running has taken over my thoughts and monopolized my book selection. I've mooned over training plans, race goals, and new pink Mizuno Wave Creation 14s. I've chosen to spend time with running over anything else. Just thinking about running makes me giddy!

My husband, thankfully, has been supportive of this relationship. Had he tried to intervene...well, I wouldn't have left him for running, but it would definitely have put a rift between us.

It's been fun, this love affair. But I'm sort of ready for the honeymoon period to end. I've concluded I'm in it for the long haul, that we'll be together for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I'd like to grow old with running. I trust that running also wants to be with me and will love me back as long as I continue to nurture it.

This isn't to say I don't feel just as strongly about meeting the goals we've set or that I plan to spend any less time on training. Only that perhaps I can stop obsessing, that infatuation can give way to something deeper, more grounded, more balanced.

I'm not sure I'll be able to achieve this balance. I suspect, like most great loves, running and I will experience ebb and flow. I imagine running will let me down sometimes, and sometimes it will be me who is doing the letting down. We are likely never to be regarded as a "power couple", but perhaps our quiet commitment to one another will be an inspiration to others who struggle to stay together through thick and thin.

The foundation is there. And I know we will be tested. We've yet to experience a major injury or illness. If we can keep our head about us and learn from others who have been where we want to go, we may just have a chance.

Well, that was short lived! Take two.

I've been itching to write lately and I thought to myself "I should start a blog"! So, I googled "blogging websites" and blogger.com came up on top. Great, I'll start there! Google asked me to sign in to all things google, so I did...and low and behold, I already have a blog.

Lest I appear a complete idiot, allow me to explain.

Some time ago (nearly three years now, it appears from the date of my last post) I decided it would be fun to start a blog. I like to write, I had some thoughts swimming around in my head that needed a place to go....so, I put some thought into what it should be called and what I would write about and came up with "Mothering and Other Things". Apparently then I started this site and wrote my first post.

And then...in my usual manner, I quickly decided (it's coming back to me now) that a free website wasn't good enough, that I must have my own domain name (more legitimate!) and advertisements (new career?!!) and....and....well, I didn't know what else, but regardless, this site wasn't enough. So, I acquired a domain name, signed up for a year (maybe two) of hosting, wrote perhaps five posts, and dropped it entirely. GoDaddy didn't want to let me go. They pestered me for a long time to renew my domain name before it was too late. Once or twice I attempted to log on to my account to see what was required of me...but eh, I couldn't remember my login credentials...and that's all she wrote (ha).

But here it is again, this desire to write. I've changed alot in the past three years, and while I'm still very much a mother, I don't know if I'll feel like writing about mothering all that much. At the moment, I'm all about running. So perhaps my blog title isn't a perfect fit with what I intend to create, but I think I'll let that go for the moment and just try to write, see if it serves me, and go from there.

Take two.

Here we go!

Hello Internet! This will be my little experiment. A place to record my thoughts, musings, reflections. I'm not good at recording life events in the usual ways (I'm famous for forgetting to bring my camera to such monumental events as my sons' birthday parties...sigh), but maybe, just maybe, I can be inspired to blog about my thoughts and experiences.

Since it is a new year, I'm going to begin my blog by recording some intentions (not to be confused with resolutions! I don't do those...) I have set for myself for 2011. Maybe they're kind of resolution-ish, but I like to think of them more like themes. So, here goes:

Theme #1: gratitude
My parents raised me to always send thank you notes for gifts received or kindnesses shown. And yet, I'm ashamed to admit, I have become woefully negligent about writing my thanks. So much so that sometimes I feel so bad that I have not sent a thank you that I find myself avoiding the generous gift giver I have neglected! In 2011, I intend to remind myself to feel gracious and to express my gratitude in a thoughtful (and timely) way.

Theme #2: nurture relationships
This past year I have unintentionally hurt several people I care about through thoughtlessness and selfish actions. In 2011, I intend to pay greater attention to the way my actions affect the people I care about, and to act authentically and intentionally in my interactions with others.

Theme #3: physical health
I intend to continue to take care of my physical health, as I have in the past year. I am re-establishing healthy habits that I want to keep for the remainder of my life. In 2011, I intend to keep this strong focus on taking care of my body.

So, that's it! Here we go...