Adventures on Two Wheels

In the middle of reflecting that I'd yet to be caught in the rain on my daily ride to and from work, I was hit with a big, fat raindrop. My first thought was to put the pedal to the metal, so to speak, and get home before...what? Before I got wet? Because being wet is...not good?

I decided to enjoy the rain instead, smiling at the man & his son who pulled up beside me at the lights on their motorbike. Like we were in this crazy situation together.

"You're getting rained on too, hey?" Smile and shake of the head.

I was almost a little disappointed when I rode out from under the cloud. Riding home in a downpour would have made a much more entertaining blog entry. And made me feel just a little more like a hardcore biker.

Although cyclist is probably a more accurate term.

If I was honest, I'd admit that I'm proud of the slash of grease on my leg that I arrive home with almost daily. (Compliments of the generous Bike Doctor mechanics who tuned up my bike.)
I might even take a picture of it.

I've finally found some routes that I like to and from work. They're not the same, because although I enjoy crossing the Broadway bridge on my way to work, it's not so fun to have to ride across the other direction.

In fact, the bridge is one of my favorite segments of the ride to work. On my first day biking, I realized a little too late that the walkway on the north side of the bridge was closed, and I didn't want to go back to the lights and cross to the other side. So I waited for the lights at the top to turn red, leaving a significant gap in traffic, and I hightailed it across in the driving lane.

I have never gone that fast on my bike before. Oh my goodness! So much fun, I decided to go that way every morning.

I've tried a variety of options for the home route, but most of them involve me huffing and puffing and pedaling crazily in an oxygen-deprived state as I try to crest the hill at the top of Sask Crescent and Broadway. Today I discovered that using University bridge is a much more enjoyable option.

Riding my bike to work is becoming second nature, and on the days I drive I feel sluggish and slow, aware that there is a much better way to get from A to B.

Here's to early morning rides in the fresh air, and starting out the day with a smile on your face.

Carry a Small Grape

Today I found myself humming along to nothing in particular, brimming over with possibilities. A series of events, comments, and nuggets of wisdom from a beautiful book have coalesced to inspire an idea.
A plan.
A project.
I won't share all the details yet, because some dreams need to be nurtured a bit in the quiet of one's heart before they can stand up to the knocks they'll take once out in the open. But it's all about having a dream and a purpose. Moving forward with intention. Giving shape and reason to my activities.
The beautiful book I'm talking about is Life is a Verb by Patti Digh. The title bugs me a wee bit, because as a statement it is incorrect. Life is a noun, or sometimes an adjective, but never a verb. HOWEVER, as a concept it is brilliant. It's not a new idea, but at this very moment in time, this is the book I needed.
The subtitle is 37 Days to Wake Up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally. Sounds a bit self-helpish, but it's actually quite wonderful. Every page is full color, with stories and quotes and pictures and really wide margins to make notes in. Which I have.
There is a story about dancing in your car that made me smile, because I love to dance and sing in the car. One of my co-workers has caught me on more than one occasion and commented that I looked awfully happy on my drive to work that day.
Digh relates a story about her daughter who was delighted to find a minuscule grape in her snack one day, and carried it around everywhere with her, marveling in the wonderful smallness and cuteness of the grape. She challenges the reader to "carry a small grape"- to find something that creates wonder in you and carry it with you, taking it out every now and then to remind yourself to find the joy in every day. I haven't printed it out yet, but I think my "small grape" will be a picture of my niece, Jillian.



Because how can you not smile at this picture? It's her expression that I love more than anything. Happy, and a little bit sneaky.

Here's to the future. To dreaming and planning. To anticipation. To inspiration.

Running in Aqua Socks

I recently finished reading Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, and oh my goodness. It has changed the way I think about running, and is slowly changing the way I run.
In a nutshell, he puts forth the idea that people are created to run. The presence of our Achilles tendon, the nuchal ligament on the back of our head, and our big butts are all useful only if we're running; we don't need them to walk.
He writes about barefoot running and how much more natural it is than running in running shoes, and how American marathon runners were faster back when they wore canvas flats than they are now with their expensive shoes. And they were injured less often.
One of the most important things I learned was that "shoes block pain, not impact." So you slam your feet down over and over, because you don't feel the pain that would normally tell you to correct your stride.
Our feet are incredibly sensitive for a reason. "They're self-correcting devices. Covering your feet with cushioned shoes is like turning off your smoke alarms."
So I've started training, for very short periods of time, in aqua socks. Rather than spend a bunch of money on brand name minimalist running shoes, I got this idea from a barefoot running blog I stumbled across.
And boy is it fun! I feel much lighter on my feet and not like I'm plodding along in these thick-soled, "pronation-correcting" chunks of rubber and foam.
So far I'm on day 2 this new training, and am curious to see how it will effect my race in September.
Here's to running like a child again!

My Echo

What a busy weekend! I bought a different car yesterday - a 2005 Toyota Echo. It's very different from my Cavalier - smaller, taller, and kind of fun to drive. I imagine it emitting a little "meep meep" sound as I zip around town.

So - test drove, bought, and licensed the Echo yesterday. Then I gathered up some more stuff for a garage sale next weekend and hauled it out to Mom and Dad's in the afternoon. In the evening, I had some errands to run, and then my day was done.

Today I got up early and volunteered as a road marshall for the Bridge City Boogie (2k, 5k, & 10k run/walk). An interesting experience. For the most part people were understanding about the delay getting across the intersection, but I had one lady who was late for church and quite angry that our race was preventing her from getting there on time.

After the Boogie, I came home and had a much-needed nap. Then I helped Nicole dig up some grass and make a little flower bed in the back yard. And by little, I mean probably 3'x1.5'. Just enough to plant a few herbs, and maybe a tomato plant. It was fun to have a reason to putter around outside on this gorgeous summer day!

After supper I cleaned out the inside of my old car, washing and vaccuming it to get it ready to sell. If you know anyone who needs a reliable 1997 Cavalier, let me know!

Tonight I ran to the store and picked up a few groceries, and when I collapsed in the living room chairI couldn't believe it was already 9:30!

Here's to a good weekend, and I hope there are many more to come.

32:50

A few posts ago, I wrote about running a new personal best (34 min) on one of my regular routes. Today I ran it in 32:50, another personal best. I'm finding that my body is doing ok at the faster pace, but I quickly run out of air and am left gasping for breathe and often cramping up. That's something I'll have to work on in the coming weeks and months.
I'm looking forward to the race - 17 days! I feel like I've tried harder in my training this go-around, even though I still didn't run as much as I should have.
One of these times, I'll get it right.

Happiness

"It was Don Paolo's birthday and all the people of the village were gathered in the piazza to celebrate him. The band played, the wine flowed, the children danced, and, as he stood for a moment alone under the pergola, a little girl approached the beloved priest.

'But Don Paolo, are you not happy?' she asked him.

'Of course I am happy,' he assured the little girl.

'Why, then, aren't you crying?'"

- from The Lady in the Palazzo, by Marlena De Blasi

Tonight I Remembered

This evening was beautiful. Just cool enough. No wind. Fresh rain water on the street, just enough to keep the dust down, not enough for puddles.
Tonight I remembered why I love running.
The way you can breathe in new life after a stuffy day inside.
The way you can stretch your legs, pump your arms, and work your lungs after sitting for hours on end.
The way an hour can feel like five minutes.
The way problems shrink and anything seems possible.
The way you can be alone with your thoughts and your footfalls and truly enjoy it.
I love nights like tonight.

34 Minutes, Baby! Yeah!

In the course of training for a race, there are good runs and bad runs. Today was great! I ran my 5.5km (or so) route in 34 minutes, a new personal record. Whoop!
[credit is due, in large part, to the Podrunner podcast I downloaded before I ran. Podrunner is a fantastic series of podcasts available on iTunes to help you work out at a chosen pace.]
In past years my enthusiasm for training usually tapers off quite a bit by late April, early May. This year, though, I feel fired up to put in my very best effort in the weeks to come and see what I can accomplish on race day.
Here's to all the training days ahead!

Unexpected Results

If you search my name on the StarPhoenix website, you'll get a list of my most recent book reviews.
I did such a search today to see if my review from Saturday was listed, and it was.
Along with the StarPhoenix search results, you can click on canada.com and see articles that have either my first or last name in them, and usually they are not related to me at all.
I laughed when I saw an article titled "Cougar Roundup" in my search results.
Is the universe trying to tell me something?

Boston

Over waffles this morning I read about the Boston Marathon, in the current issue of Runner's World magazine.
I've been a runner for only a couple of years, and when I started my goal was to run for 20 minutes continuously.
Then I decided to run a half marathon, using the run 10 min, walk 1 minute approach.
Then I decided to run another one, and try to finish just a little bit faster.
This year I am attempting to just run, flat out, the entire half marathon.
Quite often on my long training runs I daydream. A recurring scenario is me crossing the finish line in record time. Sometimes, every now and then, I think about what it would take to qualify for Boston.
The Boston Marathon is the only marathon that you have to qualify for. For non-elite runners, making it to Boston is the ultimate achievement. It is the Holy Grail, the El Dorado of running, and only 10% of American marathoners are fast enough.
10%.

To qualify, I would have to run a marathon in 3hours, 40 min. I have yet to even run a marathon at all, never mind at such break-neck speeds.
(That would be a half-marathon in 1 hour, 50min. To date, my fastest time is 2:16.)
I can't even wrap my head around running that fast for that long.

But still.

When I read the article about one man's qualifying attempts, I'll admit I got a little teary-eyed. He qualified with only a 21 second margin, after "running through the worst cramp of my life and lay(ing) my guts out in a ropy strand up Michigan Avenue." Because that's the kind of effort it takes to be one of those 10%. Everything you have, and then a whole lot more.

For now, I'll focus on today's hill workout, but dreams of Boston will probably linger. With any luck, they'll make my step a little lighter and my pace a little faster.

Time to lace up.

original church

I exit Tastebuds tonight, and the sky is clear; the breeze from earlier today settled down for the night. I love this kind of weather. It makes me think of my friend Kyla, and if it weren't almost 10:00 on a weeknight, I might just call her to see if she would want to go for a walk. Few things are better than late-night jaunts under a clear sky, with a good friend, meandering conversation that leaves you feeling as though all is right with the world.

Tonight was poetry night, and I leave the cafe feeling happy. On my drive home, I think that this is what God had in mind when he thought about building his church. This small group of people who are growing friendships and laughing together; sharing food and tea, lemonade, hot chocolate (curiously, no one drinks coffee). People learning to trust each other enough to share secrets, failures and longings, punctuated by peals of laughter. The kind of true laughter that follows a bit of sadness, refreshing like a glass of ice cold lemonade on a hot summer day.

There is nothing, I think, that I could tell this group that would invoke any kind of judgement. I suppose it's easier to share because we're writing and then reading, not talking directly to a round of people, intent on helping you out of whatever mess you (or they) think you're in. I don't share something with the hope that they will have any sort of answers; it's merely a statement of fact - I feel this, I was disappointed in that, these are the things that make me happy, etc.

All too often, we gather in small church groups, well aware of how far from perfect we are, but for some reason we pretend it's not all that bad. Or we share something that we secretly don't think is all that bad, and act like we actually want to change. We may share something once every few weeks, something we're "struggling" with, or working on, but it's probably not the biggest thing on our minds right then.
(Even now, I write using "we" instead of "I" because it seems like less of a confession, and I'm sure these thoughts probably stem from my own lack of participation in other groups.)
Still, I feel a definite contrast when I meet my poetry friends every second Monday.

Not to say that it's all seriousness and sadness. Tonight I wrote about a picture of myself, taken when I was a kid. I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, worn blue jeans, western shirt, and my favorite stuffed toy - a lion that was actually very scratchy and not at all cuddly. I'm smiling. And through my exploratory"first thoughts" writing exercise, I realized that picture is a good representation of me. Smiling. Happy. Comfortable. Not doing terribly much, but quite content just to be.

Here's to small groups, in whatever form they come in - whenever we meet, may there be honesty and openness, peppered with laughter.

Getting Faster

Set a new personal record for 3 miles today at the gym - 28:24. Yay! I can't wait until the snow and ice is gone so that I can run outside.

Confronted With The Truth

I had the privilege of attending an all-day writing workshop today with my poetry group. I wasn't really looking forward to it, because I was tired and I wondered how we could possibly fill 6 hours with writing.
I am so glad I went.
The day turned out to be so much more than I expected. It was challenging, inspiring, and at some points rather emotional.
Lynda Monahan led the workshop, and focused on writing bravely and honestly, with courage. It might seem obvious that one should always write the truth, but if you sit down with pen and paper, you will find that it is a lot harder than it sounds. We went through a series of exercises designed to help us dig deeper into ourselves and find the stories that we really wanted to tell but were afraid to, for one reason or another.
Sometimes we don't write because we're afraid of hurting or offending someone; sometimes it's just too painful to deal with past hurts and losses; sometimes it's a matter of not wanting to admit the truth to ourselves. There are myriad reasons for not being still and getting the truth out onto the page.
I was blown away by the level of honesty in some people's writing, the way they laid themselves bare and faced incredibly difficult issues head on. (Part of the exercises was reading what we'd written to the group.)
I haven't reached the point of complete openness in my own writing, but I feel like today was a giant push in the right direction.
I feel honored to be a part of this amazing writing group, and blessed to call them my friends.

Perfectly Picked Playlists and Smooth Elbows

During a particularly difficult interval on the bike today, the song I was listening to kept repeating the line, "you've got me begging you for mercy."
It made me smile and think how wonderfully appropriate my playlist sometimes is.
[aside: if you want a song to get your legs pumping, try running to "Walk Like An Egyptian." That song has a seriously fast beat.]

I went to Bath Goddess today with Nicole, and got a fabulously scented body butter. You can choose one of their pre-mixed scents, or you can put together your own custom scent from something like 150 different choices. The combo I settled on, (with some help from one of the sales associates,) is Bamboo/Green Tea/Lemongrass. It is wonderfully fresh and light. And the body butter concoction is oh-so-creamy! I will have the smoothest elbows in town!

A Guilty Response

Getting the mail.
Yay! A letter!
oh no...it's from my sponsor child.

This is definitely not the way I should feel when I get a letter from my sponsor child, Gustavo. I've been his sponsor for approximately 8 years. He turned 16 this past September, and I wonder at how the time has gone so fast. My first photo had him in a spider man shirt and jeans; in a recent snapshot, he was sitting around a campfire with his ball cap on backwards, his slouched posture exuding teenage attitude.
I truly love his letters, love hearing how he is doing and what he's been learning. My guilt (and subsequent perplexing response to his letter) stems from the fact that he has sent me way more letters than I have sent him. I think about him often, and pray that he will be a strong Christian and an honorable man; that he will put forth his best effort in everything he does. I often pray that he will have a reason to smile. What I don't do often enough is put these thoughts into words.
In a couple of years he will graduate from the Compassion program, and I hope it will be with fond memories (as much as is possible through letters and infrequent photos) of me as his sponsor.
I guess that means I should start writing more often, and begin to make a concerted effort to let this boy from Honduras know that there is someone who thinks of him often, prays for him, and feels blessed to have been a part of his life, if only from a distance.

Confessions/Affirmations Part 1, or 16 Things About Me

1. I have loved photography ever since my high school photography class. However, I don't believe I possess an extraordinary measure of talent in this particular art. This year, I would like to learn how to see, how to compose, how to wrangle the meaning out of a scene that appears mundane and drab.

2. I grew up in a very clean and tidy house. My house is usually quite the opposite.

3. I love books. Usually to read, but sometimes just to hold or look at.

4. My sister and I have always been friends. (She can correct me, if I'm wrong.)


5. I used to dislike cats and was mildly afraid of them, until my roommate brought home the cutest little kitten several years ago, with the caveat that we could always send her back to the farm if it didn't work out. Now I have 3 cats.

6. I am not a dressy girl. I love jeans, t-shirts, and sweatshirts.


7. I don't have children, but I have 2 nieces and 1 nephew that I love dearly. I consider myself blessed.


8. I can be stubborn, and sometimes bossy.

9. I like to make plans, and am secretly thrilled when I manage to carry them out.


10. I love big, loud concerts.


11. I would not be a runner if not for my sister. Two weeks into our learn-to-run program I announced that it was too hard and I was going to quit. I'm not sure what happened, but we made it to 20 minutes and I just kept on going.


12. Things can be more than just things. I have several kitchen items that used to be my grandma's, and I often think of her when I use them.


13. I am a very emotional person. I can cry at the drop of a hat, lose my temper over something completely insignificant, and feel so excited that my teeth chatter. I like to think this helps me experience life more fully.


14. I've only had 2 cars in the past 13 years.

15. The first song on the running playlist on my ipod is called "I Am a Gummy Bear."

16. If I could learn to play one instrument, right now, it would be the drums.

A Movie Moment

I had a moment today on the treadmill when I felt like pulling a Brad Pitt move, from his movie Burn After Reading. You can see it in the preview here - it's a very quick clip where he's running and waving his arms in the air.
I was listening to my ipod and a great song came on, and I felt like doing a few little fist pumps in the air. I had the good sense to restrain myself and calmly keep running like a nice, normal person.
But you know I was rockin' it out in my head!

Adulthood

"Being an adult is knowing who you are and having the courage to be that person." - Erica Strange from the TV show Being Erica



There is an ambiguousness to becoming an adult. While it would seem that the transition from "young adult" to "adult" should happen in one's early 20's, I have yet to reach the point where I feel completely grown up.

I have a job, a car and a mortgage. I make plans and carry on more or less as I wish. I do not get asked for ID when I go to the liquor store. The young cashiers working in the grocery store call me "ma'am." I have RRSPs and a pension plan. Occasionally my hips hurt. By all outward appearances, I am an adult.

So often, though, I feel as though some piece of the puzzle is missing; I am almost an adult, but not quite.

Will it happen when I am disciplined enough to do the dishes every night? When I learn to file my mail as soon as it enters my house, thus avoiding the need for a 3-hour sorting session every few months? When I quit procrastinating and do some of the things that have been on my to-do list for a long time, like getting in touch with a financial planner?

Would I feel grown up if I was married and had children?

I don't know. But I was watching TV last night and the above line stuck with me. It seems like a good definition of what it means to be an adult.

I feel like I'm on the road to discovering who I am, and not just who I think I should be. One of the ways I'm doing that is attempting to write more transparently here on my blog. The writers I most admire are those that present themselves openly and honestly, "warts and all" if you will.

I took a one-day writing class awhile back, and the writer who was leading it stressed that you have to be truthful in your writing, because as soon as you're not, people will know and your writing will lose its impact.

So here's me, taking one more step toward adulthood.

New Record

I set a new personal record for myself at the gym tonight. I ran 4 miles in 39 min, 42 sec. After accidentally pulling the emergency stop cord at 2.42 miles, I had to work hard to keep motivated for the last 1.58 miles.
It's quite common for me to start an internal pep talk near the end of a run, when I would give anything just to stop and take a walking break. Today I ran out of steam with 4 minutes left, and so my mini-me motivational speaker kicked in. It's strange the things I say to myself to keep going. Usually it's along the lines of "just 4 more minutes, you can do that," or I distract myself with whatever else is going on around me. Today the phrase "I eat 4 minutes for breakfast" popped into my head.
Really? What is that? I eat 4 minutes for breakfast? The phrase was sufficiently distracting that I was able to finish the distance in my goal time.
I'm thinking of having that emblazoned on a t-shirt for my next race - I eat 4 minutes for breakfast.
What do you think?

Never Boring