I had this super cool idea of sharing my notes from my iPhone with you! I'm always using my notes app, and it's always so raw and transparent, and I really think you guys could, I don't know... find it amusing? Or learn something from it? Or just relate to me somehow. Relatability is priceless, I know from personal experience. Okay, so here goes...
This note is from August 3, 2012 and it's a quote I LOVE from Jenn Shelton (who I love even more than the quote):
"I never really discussed this with anyone because it sounds pretentious but I started ultra-running to become a better person. I thought if you could run 100 miles you'd be in this zen state...you'd be the fucking Buddha...bringing peace and a smile to the world. It didn't work in my case. I'm the same old punkass as before. But there's always that hope that it will turn you into the person you want to be: a better, more peaceful person.
When I'm out on a long run the only thing that matters is finishing the run. For once my brain isn't going "blah blah" all the time. Everything quiets down and the only thing going on is pure flow. It's just me and the movement and the motion. That's what I love. Just being a barbarian, running through the woods." -Jenn Shelton
I could so relate to every word she says in that quote. I get it. I know ultra-running doesn't make sense to a lot of people, but it makes sense to me. When my brain isn't as "blah-blah" then I don't run as much. And when it is, then I do. *shrug*
If you think these notes were lame, just wait until I post my Costco list.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Sunday, March 3, 2013
The Gospel of Farley
Jake has been pestering me to fill out his high school registration form and because I am a) in denial that my baby Jake is going to high school and b) because I'm in denial that my baby Jake is going to high school, I'm putting it off for as long as possible. Instead, we sat down together tonight and watched the best of Chris Farley, Saturday Night Live.
One of my favourite scenes is during the "Chris Farley Show" (a spoof, naturally) where he interviews Paul McCartney and comments on one of his quotes: "The love you take is equal to the love you make." Jake and I talked about it for a bit and interpreted it as that we need to love as we want to be loved. We need to treat others the way we want to be treated. We can't expect the world to lick our wounds while we keep walking into the fire.
The kids know that I am easy-going and all-loving, and sickeningly so, but they also understand that if there's one thing on this earth that makes me homicidal, it's when someone parks in our designated reserved parking spot outside of our home. When we pulled in yesterday, I found a white domestic car parked in our spot, and I proceeded to furiously scribble a nasty note onto a piece of slurpee-stained napkin to leave on their windshield, but when the suspected assholes started walking toward their car I tucked the sticky napkin into my pocket and then went all like, passive-aggressive on them, killing them with majorly loud body language.
Did I feel better after that?
No.
I don't need to accept the bullshit that this world has to offer but I certainly do not need to seek it out, either.
It was a gorgeous sunny day out today and everyone was in a great mood. We piled into the van with skateboards and scooters and bikes and headed to the park but just as we were loading up the van, the same people from yesterday pulled in and parked beside us, in the regular parking spots. I gave them a sheepish smile and they nodded a graceful look in return and I knew that all was okay. Not just with us, but with the world. Because love doesn't merely exist with us, but in spite of us.
The love we make is equal to the love we take, true. But it's not a transaction or it wouldn't be love. Love is a gift. Love is grace. We accept it undeservedly and we give it unreservedly. But if we keep walking into the fire with the expectation that the world will keep licking our wounds then we will get burned. And we will lose our parking spot.
One of my favourite scenes is during the "Chris Farley Show" (a spoof, naturally) where he interviews Paul McCartney and comments on one of his quotes: "The love you take is equal to the love you make." Jake and I talked about it for a bit and interpreted it as that we need to love as we want to be loved. We need to treat others the way we want to be treated. We can't expect the world to lick our wounds while we keep walking into the fire.
The kids know that I am easy-going and all-loving, and sickeningly so, but they also understand that if there's one thing on this earth that makes me homicidal, it's when someone parks in our designated reserved parking spot outside of our home. When we pulled in yesterday, I found a white domestic car parked in our spot, and I proceeded to furiously scribble a nasty note onto a piece of slurpee-stained napkin to leave on their windshield, but when the suspected assholes started walking toward their car I tucked the sticky napkin into my pocket and then went all like, passive-aggressive on them, killing them with majorly loud body language.
Did I feel better after that?
No.
I don't need to accept the bullshit that this world has to offer but I certainly do not need to seek it out, either.
It was a gorgeous sunny day out today and everyone was in a great mood. We piled into the van with skateboards and scooters and bikes and headed to the park but just as we were loading up the van, the same people from yesterday pulled in and parked beside us, in the regular parking spots. I gave them a sheepish smile and they nodded a graceful look in return and I knew that all was okay. Not just with us, but with the world. Because love doesn't merely exist with us, but in spite of us.
The love we make is equal to the love we take, true. But it's not a transaction or it wouldn't be love. Love is a gift. Love is grace. We accept it undeservedly and we give it unreservedly. But if we keep walking into the fire with the expectation that the world will keep licking our wounds then we will get burned. And we will lose our parking spot.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Don't Flush Yet
Like sitting on the toilet in the morning after an evening buffet of Indian food dinner, I'm not sure how this is going to come out. As much as I enjoy a solid purge of personal information, I also realize that I need to pick my audience and I'm pretty sure that letting my private life splash into the bowl of cyberspace doesn't come without some dirty consequences. However, my reason for sharing my life with others is to build community and sometimes all it takes for a bond to form is to have one person take the plunge.
Within the last three weeks, doctors have found two different types of cancer cells in my body (two different areas). That's the only part that sucks, because the good news is that both types are completely treatable. But what if I had walked out of the doctor's office today with a diagnosis of malignant melanoma? Would I be sitting in my room right now, scowling at the cat fur stuck to the edge of my chair? No. But the thing is, is that I didn't get that diagnosis.
So how should I live from this moment on? How do I not let myself get caught up in the "what ifs?" and yet, and yet maintain the understanding that each day of my life is a gift? I need to somehow find that balance between being thankful for my life and respecting it. Accepting grace, but not abusing its generosity. Today is a gift, not an entitlement. Life doesn't owe me anything and in fact, life might very well smack me upside the head every once in a while and leave me bleeding in a fucking ditch.
I know what I do want though, and that is to live life and love fully. If I get stuck in the land of what ifs then I will feel the pinch of its roped-in limitations. I vow to move forward with a soft heart, a respectful attitude toward the fragile gift of life, and a fearless dedication to love well.
Take my hand! I washed them, I promise.
Within the last three weeks, doctors have found two different types of cancer cells in my body (two different areas). That's the only part that sucks, because the good news is that both types are completely treatable. But what if I had walked out of the doctor's office today with a diagnosis of malignant melanoma? Would I be sitting in my room right now, scowling at the cat fur stuck to the edge of my chair? No. But the thing is, is that I didn't get that diagnosis.
So how should I live from this moment on? How do I not let myself get caught up in the "what ifs?" and yet, and yet maintain the understanding that each day of my life is a gift? I need to somehow find that balance between being thankful for my life and respecting it. Accepting grace, but not abusing its generosity. Today is a gift, not an entitlement. Life doesn't owe me anything and in fact, life might very well smack me upside the head every once in a while and leave me bleeding in a fucking ditch.
I know what I do want though, and that is to live life and love fully. If I get stuck in the land of what ifs then I will feel the pinch of its roped-in limitations. I vow to move forward with a soft heart, a respectful attitude toward the fragile gift of life, and a fearless dedication to love well.
Take my hand! I washed them, I promise.
Friday, February 22, 2013
Reinvention
Most people struggle with establishing new habits and patterns. I often get asked how I am able to be so dedicated to my sport and although I have always attributed the consistency of my training to my tendency to be neurotic and obsessive, most of the time I'm really just not sure how I do it.
We watched the movie "Argo" last night and I loved the part where Ben Affleck was pleading with the American hostages to become like their new fake Canadian identities so much that they start thinking like them. They aren't to merely play the part but to BE the part. I think what it is for me is that running has become a part of my identity which really forces me to keep it up. I don't go for a run so that I can act like a runner; I go for a run because I AM a runner.
If you want to be clean and organized then you need to become known for being clean and organized. You need to go out somewhere and meet new people and then you need your old friends to raise their eyebrows at you and ask, "do your new friends know how clean and organized you are?" and then roll their eyes and smile.
I don't have a hard time keeping up my running habits because running is who I am. I am Suzy the Runner. I don't ever think about giving up brushing my teeth because I am Suzy Who Brushes Her Teeth. However, I am having a hard time keeping up the discipline of writing because it's still new to me, and I haven't yet fully taken it on as my identity. But I need to! Suzy the Mother. Suzy the Runner. Suzy the Writer.
It helps to say things out loud to people, like "I am healthy" and "I am a runner" and "I am a writer." Never underestimate the power of assertion. Do whatever you need to do to convince yourself and everyone else that you are this new person. Don't just spill your latte on your new running shoes to get them dirty and used... run in them!
We watched the movie "Argo" last night and I loved the part where Ben Affleck was pleading with the American hostages to become like their new fake Canadian identities so much that they start thinking like them. They aren't to merely play the part but to BE the part. I think what it is for me is that running has become a part of my identity which really forces me to keep it up. I don't go for a run so that I can act like a runner; I go for a run because I AM a runner.
If you want to be clean and organized then you need to become known for being clean and organized. You need to go out somewhere and meet new people and then you need your old friends to raise their eyebrows at you and ask, "do your new friends know how clean and organized you are?" and then roll their eyes and smile.
I don't have a hard time keeping up my running habits because running is who I am. I am Suzy the Runner. I don't ever think about giving up brushing my teeth because I am Suzy Who Brushes Her Teeth. However, I am having a hard time keeping up the discipline of writing because it's still new to me, and I haven't yet fully taken it on as my identity. But I need to! Suzy the Mother. Suzy the Runner. Suzy the Writer.
It helps to say things out loud to people, like "I am healthy" and "I am a runner" and "I am a writer." Never underestimate the power of assertion. Do whatever you need to do to convince yourself and everyone else that you are this new person. Don't just spill your latte on your new running shoes to get them dirty and used... run in them!
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Let There Be Light
I had a health scare a couple of weeks ago, and all I feel like saying is that it shocked me into submission. Humbled by my smallness, by my inability to control everything despite all my efforts to dictate the course of my life, I sank to my knees in surrender. We aren't entitled to our next vacation time or our next meal or even our next breath. Life is a gift, and we should treat it as such.
My boys learned an acronym at summer camp last year: YOLO (You Only Live Once). I guess the ideology behind this is to put aside all fear and resentment and resignation and live the way we are meant to live: with courage and love and connection. All in, balls out.
It's similar to how we like to "live like it's our last day." This mindset promotes gratitude and perspective, changing the way we look at our mundane day-to-dayness. However, what if we all got a little cryptic and lived like everyone else is dying? I know, kind-of disturbing, but think about it! The light of compassion would dissipate the cloud of hurt and resentment that often stand between us.
Let that person fully come to mind. It shouldn't be hard to think of someone as people hurt people; it's what we do best. Now imagine that person terminally ill. Every occasion here on earth is their last. Would we once again reject their attendance at Christmas dinner? Would we roll our eyes at their quirky behaviour? Would we turn down the volume dial on their life so as to not impose on our own song and dance?
I doubt it.
A hearse passed me running about a year ago, followed by a line of grieving friends and family and I respectfully stopped running, stood still on the side of the road and waited until they had all passed by. If I can let go of my own agenda for a complete stranger then I better be able to do so for a loved one. Let's turn up the music and dance to the harmony we make.
My boys learned an acronym at summer camp last year: YOLO (You Only Live Once). I guess the ideology behind this is to put aside all fear and resentment and resignation and live the way we are meant to live: with courage and love and connection. All in, balls out.
It's similar to how we like to "live like it's our last day." This mindset promotes gratitude and perspective, changing the way we look at our mundane day-to-dayness. However, what if we all got a little cryptic and lived like everyone else is dying? I know, kind-of disturbing, but think about it! The light of compassion would dissipate the cloud of hurt and resentment that often stand between us.
Let that person fully come to mind. It shouldn't be hard to think of someone as people hurt people; it's what we do best. Now imagine that person terminally ill. Every occasion here on earth is their last. Would we once again reject their attendance at Christmas dinner? Would we roll our eyes at their quirky behaviour? Would we turn down the volume dial on their life so as to not impose on our own song and dance?
I doubt it.
A hearse passed me running about a year ago, followed by a line of grieving friends and family and I respectfully stopped running, stood still on the side of the road and waited until they had all passed by. If I can let go of my own agenda for a complete stranger then I better be able to do so for a loved one. Let's turn up the music and dance to the harmony we make.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Process
I'm almost done the raw draft for the piece that I am submitting for the writing contest. I'm sitting at a coffee shop feeling light like being underwater, carried along by the waves of my memories and feelings as I grope around my life experiences. I lost myself for a moment here on the couch and snapped back to reality to find a big juicy tear rolling down my cheek and cookie crumbs on my shirt.
Can I press the publish button now, or is it too soon?
Can I press the publish button now, or is it too soon?
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Gut it Out
I ran in my first race this morning since the 10k I ran back in June and boy oh boy, do I feel it. I'm not exactly sure how I got that out of shape in such a short amount of time, but apparently it's possible. It was at the 5k marker where I felt like I was dragging my right leg behind me like a freshly-killed deer carcass and when I hit the 10k signage I was a solid 3 minutes behind schedule. At that point my eyes started darting around in search of an escape route but I must have slipped into a delusional running-coma because I kept going.
My massage therapist Brent and I were chatting about how it actually helps to keep moving in a race if we can sort-of "go to sleep" while we run. It sounds absurd, but there's this mindset that we can have where we relax the face and shoulders and then let our eyelids droop in a catatonic state of moving meditation. The heart rate decreases and we kinda just shuffle along while we preserve the pathetic remnants of our energy for the last bit of the race. Sometimes it works, and sometimes we get rudely awakened by an emergent stomach burbling or a hamstring pull. I guess it worked for me today in that I stayed in that race, but there's only so many tricks the mind can pull on the body. With 5k left, my body gave my mind the middle finger.
I hate over-killing the parallels between running and life but don't we all have those moments where we realize we slipped into a life-coma? When all we can do is hang in there until we can pass through that stage and finish it already and yet with every footfall we anxiously anticipate the impending doom of the emotional equivalent of diarrhea cramps? It's not pretty, but sometimes it's all we can do, and that's okay. This does pass, it will end, and if we need an ambulance to get us there quicker then so be it. I just hope they have nitrous oxide hooked up in the back by the stretcher.
My massage therapist Brent and I were chatting about how it actually helps to keep moving in a race if we can sort-of "go to sleep" while we run. It sounds absurd, but there's this mindset that we can have where we relax the face and shoulders and then let our eyelids droop in a catatonic state of moving meditation. The heart rate decreases and we kinda just shuffle along while we preserve the pathetic remnants of our energy for the last bit of the race. Sometimes it works, and sometimes we get rudely awakened by an emergent stomach burbling or a hamstring pull. I guess it worked for me today in that I stayed in that race, but there's only so many tricks the mind can pull on the body. With 5k left, my body gave my mind the middle finger.
I hate over-killing the parallels between running and life but don't we all have those moments where we realize we slipped into a life-coma? When all we can do is hang in there until we can pass through that stage and finish it already and yet with every footfall we anxiously anticipate the impending doom of the emotional equivalent of diarrhea cramps? It's not pretty, but sometimes it's all we can do, and that's okay. This does pass, it will end, and if we need an ambulance to get us there quicker then so be it. I just hope they have nitrous oxide hooked up in the back by the stretcher.
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