"Runner's World" magazine came out with an Olympics special right before London, and I, fascinated by the seemingly unlimited physical capabilities of the human body, soaked up every article, words and images from start to finish. The editor wrote a note about the difference between a gold medal Olympic athlete and an Olympic athlete who doesn't medal. The one commonality between gold medal Olympians is that they all have a strong sense of self whether or not they take home the gold; their worthiness does not depend on the medal.
Over the years I have had talks with my girlfriends about how as women, we need to be okay with who we are whether or not we have a boyfriend or husband. There's too much weight put on Tom Cruise's line in Jerry Maguire: "you complete me." I wonder if relationships should really be viewed in such a way?
Eric Fromm in his classic book, "The Art of Loving" makes a comparison between two different kinds of love:
"Infantile love follows the principle: 'I love because I am loved.' Mature love follows the principle: 'I am loved because I love.' Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you.'"
I find a striking correlation between what Fromm wrote so many years ago in regards to love and life partners and what the editor from Runner's World recently wrote in regards to Olympians and their gold medals. It seems that we first need to have a mature and strong sense of self before we can attract the golden people. I wouldn't want a runner-up if I knew that the best was out there standing on a podium waiting for me.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Day Twenty-Three
A good friend of mine is going through a hard time right now and she just texted me this morning, "Suzy, I cried myself to sleep last night and now I look like shit. I have to go to work when I should just stay in bed."
I told her to just let herself look how she feels. That this is life, and this is humanity, and that it's okay to feel how we feel.
There's a well-known drug-addiction counselor in the lower mainland here and he is known for his words of wisdom, one of which is this: that it's important to embrace pain because it teaches us something. That pain is in fact more important than peace and joy. It facilitates movement, and when we move, time passes and heals.
A couple of years ago I read Sue Monk Kidd's book, "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" in which she describes pain and how we might best deal with it:
"He suggests we approach the pain the way a mother tenderly picks up a crying baby...once we can get the baby quiet, we can begin to look deeply at the feeling. We begin to understand the attitudes, patterns and beliefs that cause it. We start to see what keeps us stuck in our wounds and what we can do to transform them."
Pain feels awful, emotional pain far more so than physical. If we detach ourselves from it and pretend it's not really there, then it will fester and grow and contaminate our lives and loves. But if we pay attention to the pain, let it speak to us and teach us, as painful as it is, we will be able to walk away from that toxic sludge with that much less green goop stuck to our hearts.
I told her to just let herself look how she feels. That this is life, and this is humanity, and that it's okay to feel how we feel.
There's a well-known drug-addiction counselor in the lower mainland here and he is known for his words of wisdom, one of which is this: that it's important to embrace pain because it teaches us something. That pain is in fact more important than peace and joy. It facilitates movement, and when we move, time passes and heals.
A couple of years ago I read Sue Monk Kidd's book, "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" in which she describes pain and how we might best deal with it:
"He suggests we approach the pain the way a mother tenderly picks up a crying baby...once we can get the baby quiet, we can begin to look deeply at the feeling. We begin to understand the attitudes, patterns and beliefs that cause it. We start to see what keeps us stuck in our wounds and what we can do to transform them."
Pain feels awful, emotional pain far more so than physical. If we detach ourselves from it and pretend it's not really there, then it will fester and grow and contaminate our lives and loves. But if we pay attention to the pain, let it speak to us and teach us, as painful as it is, we will be able to walk away from that toxic sludge with that much less green goop stuck to our hearts.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Day Twenty-Two
When we were driving through Sedona, Arizona, we were surrounded by the most beautiful pieces of red rock supernatural architecture. We talked about how we can't even take photos of it because the awe and wonder of it all can only really be experienced in person: between the I and it, soaking through all of the senses, pouring into places untouched by anything ever found in a photograph.
Admittedly, I was nervous about going ATVing. I have never driven a motorcycle, only ridden on the back of them. I knew I wanted to drive my own ATV though, not just ride on the back of Andrew's, so I stuck my chin out and surged forward.
When I first hopped onto my own little red ATV and started driving, I held the throttle down with tentative fingers. But it only took me a few minutes before I started to relax a bit and get into it. I got into a groove where I'd watch the earth move just ahead of my vehicle, and I'd sway and bend and lean with each bump and turn and before long, my eyes took on that half-closed catatonic state where even though I was flying and being tossed around a bit, I was soothed by the hypnotic rhythm of earth meeting movement. Ground meeting life. Stability meeting dynamite, merging at a place too sacred to capture, like trying to radar the speed of sound.
I remember being in that state and knowing that I needed to force myself to look up at the views, at my surroundings, because before too long I'd be back at the truck and the ride would be over. I remember making a conscious effort to soak up moments like those when my kids were babies. I knew from what people told me that their baby years would fly by and so I would stare at them and even say out loud to myself, "remember this moment, Suzy... capture it like a photo but with all of your senses." That's what I did while ATVing too. I need to do that more with life.
I do that with Andrew. I look at him and try to memorize the curve of his earlobe, the way that his cheekbone feels under my lips when I grab his face and kiss him hard. The way he looks down and then up at me with those sparkly eyes, how I can see the little boy in him, the boy that his mom memorized once too.
I want to look up more, and soak up the view. Our lives are full of those moments if we want to see them. We just have to look up.
Admittedly, I was nervous about going ATVing. I have never driven a motorcycle, only ridden on the back of them. I knew I wanted to drive my own ATV though, not just ride on the back of Andrew's, so I stuck my chin out and surged forward.
When I first hopped onto my own little red ATV and started driving, I held the throttle down with tentative fingers. But it only took me a few minutes before I started to relax a bit and get into it. I got into a groove where I'd watch the earth move just ahead of my vehicle, and I'd sway and bend and lean with each bump and turn and before long, my eyes took on that half-closed catatonic state where even though I was flying and being tossed around a bit, I was soothed by the hypnotic rhythm of earth meeting movement. Ground meeting life. Stability meeting dynamite, merging at a place too sacred to capture, like trying to radar the speed of sound.
I remember being in that state and knowing that I needed to force myself to look up at the views, at my surroundings, because before too long I'd be back at the truck and the ride would be over. I remember making a conscious effort to soak up moments like those when my kids were babies. I knew from what people told me that their baby years would fly by and so I would stare at them and even say out loud to myself, "remember this moment, Suzy... capture it like a photo but with all of your senses." That's what I did while ATVing too. I need to do that more with life.
I do that with Andrew. I look at him and try to memorize the curve of his earlobe, the way that his cheekbone feels under my lips when I grab his face and kiss him hard. The way he looks down and then up at me with those sparkly eyes, how I can see the little boy in him, the boy that his mom memorized once too.
I want to look up more, and soak up the view. Our lives are full of those moments if we want to see them. We just have to look up.
Day Twenty-One
Okay, so maybe I skipped a couple of days, but who's counting, anyway?
I ran into someone I know this morning on my five miler before work. Her name is Carrie Light and she's a local fitness trainer who (extremely) successfully runs her own business. I remember I first met her in the summer of 2010 when I moved back out to Langley with my kiddos. I was running along Telegraph Trail and I was gaining speed on this blonde lady up ahead of me and when I finally caught up to her I felt compelled to turn my music off and chat with her a bit.
She was so warm to me straight away, exclaiming how much she looks up to me and my running, telling me that she and her partner have been watching me run for years! She said that they compare my speed and fitness levels, noticing that I have been steadily improving over the last few months (this was back then). It was nice to be encouraged, but I felt like there was something more going on, you know? There's just something about Carrie that makes it so easy to just open up and feel at ease.
She asked me where I worked and I told her that I was having a hard time finding a job. I told her about my degree, she gave me some ideas and told me to email her. But we also talked about life, and what I was going through at that time (I was in the earlier stages of separating from my ex-husband) and she opened up with me as well and shared some stuff that she had gone through, and what had helped her cope.
Honestly? This never happens. I know you guys probably see people running along the road all the time and think we just all hang out in groups and talk about sweat marks and blisters, but most of us are runners for a reason (if we liked people that much we'd play on a team of some sort, seriously!!). So unless we make a pointed effort to meet people for a run, it's a pretty sure bet that we're slogging it out there on our own. So to have this 20 minutes of heart-to-heart in the middle of a 20-miler was unheard of for me. It's like we were brought together at the exact right time for a purpose.
I saw her at the Running Room a couple of times when I worked there and again a few times at Starbucks and we'd always exchange looks, like "hey... it'll be okay, hang in there." She'd always give me a hug or when I was behind the counter she'd give me a high five. She's just amazing like that. Some people are always full, you know? Full and overflowing. I want to be like that. She inspires me, and it's so fitting that her last name is Light.
I saw her this morning and told her about my new job at the physiotherapist's office and sure enough I got tackled with a bear hug. I tried to warn her about my contagious head cold, sweaty hair and probable snot smears on my jacket but she didn't seem to care. She just wanted to give, no matter what my condition. I like that. A lot.
May I be a Light too.
I ran into someone I know this morning on my five miler before work. Her name is Carrie Light and she's a local fitness trainer who (extremely) successfully runs her own business. I remember I first met her in the summer of 2010 when I moved back out to Langley with my kiddos. I was running along Telegraph Trail and I was gaining speed on this blonde lady up ahead of me and when I finally caught up to her I felt compelled to turn my music off and chat with her a bit.
She was so warm to me straight away, exclaiming how much she looks up to me and my running, telling me that she and her partner have been watching me run for years! She said that they compare my speed and fitness levels, noticing that I have been steadily improving over the last few months (this was back then). It was nice to be encouraged, but I felt like there was something more going on, you know? There's just something about Carrie that makes it so easy to just open up and feel at ease.
She asked me where I worked and I told her that I was having a hard time finding a job. I told her about my degree, she gave me some ideas and told me to email her. But we also talked about life, and what I was going through at that time (I was in the earlier stages of separating from my ex-husband) and she opened up with me as well and shared some stuff that she had gone through, and what had helped her cope.
Honestly? This never happens. I know you guys probably see people running along the road all the time and think we just all hang out in groups and talk about sweat marks and blisters, but most of us are runners for a reason (if we liked people that much we'd play on a team of some sort, seriously!!). So unless we make a pointed effort to meet people for a run, it's a pretty sure bet that we're slogging it out there on our own. So to have this 20 minutes of heart-to-heart in the middle of a 20-miler was unheard of for me. It's like we were brought together at the exact right time for a purpose.
I saw her at the Running Room a couple of times when I worked there and again a few times at Starbucks and we'd always exchange looks, like "hey... it'll be okay, hang in there." She'd always give me a hug or when I was behind the counter she'd give me a high five. She's just amazing like that. Some people are always full, you know? Full and overflowing. I want to be like that. She inspires me, and it's so fitting that her last name is Light.
I saw her this morning and told her about my new job at the physiotherapist's office and sure enough I got tackled with a bear hug. I tried to warn her about my contagious head cold, sweaty hair and probable snot smears on my jacket but she didn't seem to care. She just wanted to give, no matter what my condition. I like that. A lot.
May I be a Light too.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Day Twenty
I didn't bring a charger for my laptop so I can't really write much in here each night. We drove to Sedona, up in northern Arizona, and went ATV-ing. What fun! The red rocks were so unreal! I can't believe that they aren't sculpted by humans. They were breathtaking.
I steered off course and had to get "rescued" by the tour guide, but then I was a champ after that.
I might have to wait until I get back home on Monday night to write some more, but then I'll write a couple of posts in one day to make up for it.
I steered off course and had to get "rescued" by the tour guide, but then I was a champ after that.
I might have to wait until I get back home on Monday night to write some more, but then I'll write a couple of posts in one day to make up for it.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Day Nineteen
We went to this cool place today called Tombstone (from the movie, Tombstone). It was awesome! We watched a gun fight and then we shot guns at targets and I hit the heart and jugular.
On our way out we stopped at a gas station for snacks, and then I got carried away by a T-Rex.
Having lots of fun. Going dune-buggying tomorrow! I know I'm supposed to be writing stuff, and I will, but today was just a fun day with not one bit of analytical self-reflection whatsoever. Amen.
On our way out we stopped at a gas station for snacks, and then I got carried away by a T-Rex.
Having lots of fun. Going dune-buggying tomorrow! I know I'm supposed to be writing stuff, and I will, but today was just a fun day with not one bit of analytical self-reflection whatsoever. Amen.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Day Eighteen
What goes around, comes around. It's just how the world turns, right?
Andrew and I are in Arizona for some muchly-needed sleep and sun. I have family here, so we got to meet up with them at this cool restaurant last night for some dinner. The food was great, and we could throw our peanut shells all over the floor, which was awesome. Being responsible and clean and organized is great for our kids, but Andrew and I were really overdue for some messy self-gratifying chaos so we were quite pleased that we were able to deliciously throw our food all over the floor.
Except he took it quite literally and in a pathetic attempt to get rid of his gum (he was meeting my extended family for the first time and wanted to make a nice impression on them that didn't leave them with images of him chewing and snapping his gum) he stealthfully stole it out of his mouth, rolled it between his fingers and "let go" of it under the table. Rotten man, right? Yes.
So when it was time for us to leave, he slid out from the booth only to realize the gum had made its way onto the base of his seat and got stuck on his jeans, stringing between his leg and the bench as he got out. I had no idea what was happening but in retrospect, as he told me later, I remember him acting quite weird when we were leaving, grabbing at his legs and looking uncomfortable.
He reminds me so much of my dad sometimes.
Anyway, so we laughed about it and he told me that it serves him right for throwing his gum on the ground. Quite self-righteously, I agreed. I stuffed my gum inside of a peanut shell before I threw it on the ground, so my payback should be a bit delayed. I'll be sure to keep you posted.
Andrew and I are in Arizona for some muchly-needed sleep and sun. I have family here, so we got to meet up with them at this cool restaurant last night for some dinner. The food was great, and we could throw our peanut shells all over the floor, which was awesome. Being responsible and clean and organized is great for our kids, but Andrew and I were really overdue for some messy self-gratifying chaos so we were quite pleased that we were able to deliciously throw our food all over the floor.
Except he took it quite literally and in a pathetic attempt to get rid of his gum (he was meeting my extended family for the first time and wanted to make a nice impression on them that didn't leave them with images of him chewing and snapping his gum) he stealthfully stole it out of his mouth, rolled it between his fingers and "let go" of it under the table. Rotten man, right? Yes.
So when it was time for us to leave, he slid out from the booth only to realize the gum had made its way onto the base of his seat and got stuck on his jeans, stringing between his leg and the bench as he got out. I had no idea what was happening but in retrospect, as he told me later, I remember him acting quite weird when we were leaving, grabbing at his legs and looking uncomfortable.
He reminds me so much of my dad sometimes.
Anyway, so we laughed about it and he told me that it serves him right for throwing his gum on the ground. Quite self-righteously, I agreed. I stuffed my gum inside of a peanut shell before I threw it on the ground, so my payback should be a bit delayed. I'll be sure to keep you posted.
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