Moment of Clarity

A month or so ago I would have never predicted spending my vacation from work, over the holidays, thick in the middle of drama with The Man. I never thought I would separate myself so thoroughly from one I loved, mourn so deeply one I lost, or turn such a distrustful eye towards those in authority over me, us, each other. The System, the gears which grind us down to submission, to eating the goob of the propaganda machine clothed in delusion and distraction of every kind...

My reality came into sudden focus as I sat in the middle of Day 2 of my run-in with The Man. The sudden shock of every story every client ever told me overcame me in a wave of disbelief as I was questioned, detained and treated like any common criminal. The psychology, the secrecy, the assumption of wrong-doing. The show of force (against me...., right). Today was the long detective work with my stellar adviser, thanks so much..! And jokes about what felt for many moments like the hot breath of Big Brother on my neck. Those numbers, that data was more real and important than anything I could say or do of my person. My reality was hijacked into Theirs. I was overwhelmed by the sense of futility and helplessness.

Bridge to Mom, whom I took with our trusty Jamaican angel to the doctor's today, to the store, to the condo and her safe harbor. The moment of clarity was suddenly realizing just how present her reality is in mine. How the co-op of my complete attention to ridiculous but persistent misinformation is somehow like her feeling of being kidnapped into a strange reality she didn't choose. And how brave when she finds those moments of coming from herself, which she has safely tucked away into the far corners of her experience, safe from the stroke, the embarrassment, helplessness, fears...discomforts.

She is my reality. My little mother. The manic push I had to put together the practice, the next steps, the quick unfolding of some new post fantasy chapter, came to a screeching halt. And the burden of pressure was lifted. With a clinical eye I realized it's time to focus one foot in front of the other and quit looking at the finish line. We are still smack in the middle of this race.

Yesterday, in an exuberance of frustrated hope, despair, and a healthy dose of sublimated rage, I took to the streets late in the day and caught a pretty quiet 6 miler, taking the bigger loop to the north drive over towards the park. I am still waging my war with post marathon limitations of all sorts. The stellar shape I aspired to, and maybe had for a bit before the race, and which compensates for so much other inadequacy, feels gone. So I am left, like pretty much every one else, with the reality of my own mortal ground.

If ever there is a time to feel The Spirit, to pit oneself against The Man in righteous revolution, its now. The run won't leave me altogether, much as I sometimes want to quit. The thread that holds my inner discipline, to love and engage my Self in some thorough manner - to hold my own authenticity outside the definitions of possibilities...to break down, break through, move on beyond expectation- or knowledge. To jump. To leap away, break away on down the road, persists. It will take me there if I just hold on.

see you there.

The Longest Night

Winter Solstice can be the toughest door to approach, even as the momentum of the year builds to the temporal frenzy of mass delusions...the incessant uber message to shop, spend, consume -whether food or goods- and the need to meld with all the others doing the same thing.

In my mind I am lost in nature. The arms of large trees with wide expanses of sky come and gather me up in the cold layer of air, setting me adrift in my own dreams, my own beautiful cloak of invisibility. It is night, after all. The coming of the day, as we find our way through the door, sets us free for another view. Where we land, what we do, can be changed in an instant, even as the forces of light and dark grind their eternal cycles along....

I am grateful to have the run under me, no matter how long or short. For the brief moments pain subsides, I can fly like the angels and see far, far along the line of my own development, steady as she goes into a new year.

Yes, I DID!

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Running since the marathon has been increasingly tough. Trying to balance sudden increase in workload with the push for the exam, together with the need to recover left me with a case of high anxiety I haven't had for a while. The day before the exam, while the temps rose to record highs along with the humidity, my computer grinding to a halt during final simulation, and insidious aches and pains drilled through my body, my head, I plummeted into uncharacteristic despair. What if? What if I don't pass, don't heal and don't make it out of BC intact? What are the alternatives, where will I put my energy to train, work, invest in the future?

As always, its high-level problems, which I realize even as it feels like my head is exploding and my patience running out of my ears. Friday, I get lost. I pass every landmark as if I can't see what's in front of me, and all the while I think: I must FOCUS on CLINICAL material! I must FIND the RIGHT ANSWERS....I must settle this anxiety. Like any race, it's the last few miles that become imbued with the mission of nothing but completion. After the Team saw me for the last time in Crystal City, at around mile 23, I remember thinking "piece of cake"...just get to the line, this is an easy 5K left. What happened as I dragged through the last few miles was the same as yesterday; the tension, pain, pressure, the unreality of time, the sudden associations and thoughts with gauntlets and doors past when I needed to muster it up and walk through.

I am nothing if not brave. I may panic along the way, but I'll get there. The drama which is my nervous system always seems to forget: we have done this before. So while the exam unfolds, I realize I am apparently getting those diagnoses. And the simulations are flying by. And the moment comes 6 years after I began as the proctor excuses himself for but a moment to retrieve my score print-out. He doesn't give it away, but points to the single word "PASS"...and everything else, the scores - like a finish time - is just gravy.

I beat myself up for finishing slow at MCM. And now, I wonder what life with a license could have been about 20 years ago. But hey! the currents of curiosity, creativity and compassion somehow merged, somewhere on the riverbank of the Shenandoah, many years ago. The ageless sprite that was our beloved teacher, Mello Rye, gave me a mandate and a promise to abide by the truth of myself to set others free, and to join along in the journey of our yellow brick road. Somewhere, in our togetherness, I managed to find a way. With Her. And Them, and yes, IT IS SO!!!

Threading the needle

There are few things in life in which I need precision; in my line of work, there is a wellspring of intuitive and deeply rooted concepts and skills which enable me to work with my clients. In running, I came too late to the party to capitalize on the 'need for speed' and the usual obsession with times and distances, much as I'd like to. But Friday, I need a sharp focus to pass my state exam!

Lately, in every run, I have been forced to dig very deep to find a core of strength to handle the discomfort I still have from the marathon. This is deeply disappointing; I would like to be back to my normal routine, and hoped to run Miami, at least the half! But I'm letting go of all my expectations now...yesterday, a 5 miler out and back west of here was torture until the last mile when my body finally settled into its groove.

Sitting and studying. Sitting and listening. Hyper-focus on the computer, at work and home...my poor eyes are blurring out and still I need to see what I'm doing. Precision comes in documentation, in finding the right words to describe the right perception of symptoms, behaviors, affect....mine included!! I have struggled this year to focus myself on the road to the goal...which is one more door, one more needle to thread to stitch together this life.

Some of you flagged; I understand. Others are still standing by my side. Maybe I know, now, that no one does the run for me, no one holds my hand when I stumble down the road in pain. And this is a necessary discipline to strengthen my reserves, endurance, competence. Because no matter who comes and goes on the landscape of social supports, the universe continues to compel me forward. It's my willingness to keep following that impulse to go, to find the way through, and place myself in the care of larger forces which understand the Big Picture so much better than I.

Hope Grows

I woke up late today since the phone alarm was on 'beep', bounded out of bed, threw on my clothes, took my supplements, drank my morning shake and swept out the door. The beautiful big bright morning was almost harsh since I usually go out earlier when the edges of dawn are fading, and the light is soft and lush. Ok, though, with limited time, I wanted to accomplish at least an out and back along Park, and wake up my legs.

I was all in my head until I rounded a corner and saw a guy in a wheelchair taking in the day with his dog on support leash....we smiled at each other and I thought, look now, you get to gripe about your crappy training...while he's out for a nice ride...suck it up!! And found my perspective, thanks to him.

All the aches and pains present and accounted for. This time, I took a page from Marlon's posts and put in significant walk breaks. I did this all through to my turn-around at the small park for water...then headed back east. I felt my endurance somewhere out of my grasp....but at moments, the rhythm of the gait was there, and the discomfort eased. I kept my focus on form, and on finding the places that feel stuck- the back of my knees, hamstrings, all the sitting every day at work makes this shelf of soreness at the base of my ass....and I know I need to work on getting my core back to being strong to carry my legs through.

At the last stretch I put a little gas on it, and enjoyed the sweat, heat, effort, the in and out of my breath, the feeling of freedom to put myself out on the road in the middle of a beautiful autumn morning (even if it is 80 degrees). While I struggled these past few weeks to believe in miraculous saves, now my hope grows. The chaos of change opens unexpected doors, and I need to be brave enough to walk on through. Or run!

When the Going Gets Tough

...toughies like me keep going. Forget tears, heartbreak, betrayal, denial, detrimental digressions, loss of all kinds....forget it.

My problems are high-class. I have what it takes. Those who seek to thwart me, either on purpose or with cruel abandon can step aside. I am done with rescue. I am through with self-sacrifice on someone else's altar. Time to get back to the core of my own and claim those dreams into reality...

...while the road rolls along. The path unfolds beneath our feet, even when we're not looking. Just when we think we get our gait, the air can be taken from us. And the sun hide behind mountains of illusion. Our job is to gather ourselves like flowers and find the door to inner awareness; where the finish line is always just around the corner.

Denial

Is it natural to feel so much pain after a marathon? My Chiro wants to say perhaps stress fractures are the reason....of course without big testing there is no way to know for sure. Yesterday, running a very modest 5-6 miles was amazingly uncomfortable...no matter what it took a particular effort to dissociate my mind from the pain. Did it feel good eventually on other levels? Yes, which of course is the 'hook'...because no matter what, the chemical blaze and hormonal wash from heavy exertion still feels blissful after, just like...well you know.

I've been forced to acknowledge a lot of denial lately, and it sucks. My normally optimistic nature (well, about some things!), my naivety, my desire for relationship, positive work efforts etc have all been challenged by the cold hearted realities of the sad side, the loss of moral good-will, ethical intent, push to understand, need to know the truth.

It was truth which got the ball started. It's been truth which clangs like a loud bell in me when I compromise, when I'm forced to stoop to some other level ... when the ends justify the means.

I don't like who I become when I compromise so much of myself. I'm not sure I like the pressure of training, buying, bringing so much corporate america into my running.
Maybe at least for now, the longing to touch the natural base of things will lure me back to the heart at everything; the connection to the run, to myself, to my dear ones. If the universe itself will not discriminate, then I must be the filter and save myself a little trouble by finding the brothers and sisters of Light.

MCM part 2

There may be no enumeration of every part of MCM. There are, instead, flashes of images and moments which still capture the feeling of the day. Getting up so early we were on the 2nd shuttle bus to the staging area, waiting hours in the cold and dark for dawn and the start. Standing in the corral with the other 5-6+finishers, hearing at a huge distance as the gun went off- and still standing, shuffling for another half an hour to get to the start line. Blasting off through Arlington, not feeling my feet for a good 2-3 miles, which ironically enabled me to take the hills since I couldn't feel 'em! Parks. Lots of them. Rock Creek, going deep into nature before the first punishing hill, my first potty stop and on into Georgetown. The crowds. The police. The Marines. Impromptu stands with beer, champaigne, cookies, candies. The sweep down towards the Potomac and Hain's point and my first serious doubts about my conditioning, big discomfort, and not even at the halfway point. The steady stream of old, young, fat, skinny, raucous and quiet runners all around and the groups I keep passing, who pass me, who walk, run, shuffle their way - we keep moving forward, somehow. The vast Potomac and the eventual turn up into downtown and the Mall. Crowds. Many are oblivious to the race...looking at us like, what are you doing??? The monuments, huge granite buildings, greenways, and endless roads until I first see The Team....! The two minutes of emotional release over hugs, screams, shouts and encouragements before taking off again to 'catch the bridge' to Crystal City. Hitting 'the wall' between hydration/food tables and shouting out loud "I need something!" before miraculously a food stop and 'sports beans' are handed right to me...taking the bridge to Crystal City in a run/walk (mostly walk) and getting fooled when I see the turn off, because I think its short when in fact its a bunch more miles to get us heading back to the finish again....Seeing the team again, then again like magicians popping up where I least expect them! With water, good cheer and following their instructions NOT to let me quit! Realizing I may not make my time, and that it was all about survival in the last miles, hurting, hurling myself forward, crying my eyes out with all the Marines surrounding us, holding Dad's picture. The last mile, endless! The crowds had thinned...and everywhere finishers were placidly walking back past us. The last punishing incline up to the line and gobs of people everywhere! Crossing the line and thinking, THANK GOD ITS OVER while scanning the crowds for the kids- and finding them right there, tracking me as I come in.

The reunion, hugs, tears, painful walk and finally, sitting down in the cafe over coffee and cake. Throngs on the subway making our way out of the city. Pizza with the team and the final downtime at the hotel with CeeCee.

It took a Village to pull it all off. I realize, as more time goes by, that the commitment we made as a team to make this happen was stellar. Everyone stood with me and made their sacrifice; Vitae to walk those many miles, CeeCee to take all those days traveling in to be my 'second'; the kids to coordinate, document, support and give me anything I needed when I needed it....and the Marines who really know how to throw a marathon!

Now that it's back to the thick of work/exam time, I try to catch up with the surreal wonder of it all. I have run a handful of times now since getting back to SoFlo and cherish my weather, my open roads and flat terrain, conditions favorable to a middle-aged runner gal. But I'm glad I pitted myself against extraordinary challenges and found I could make my way up those hills, through those crowds, push past the pain and make it to the line. The marathon helps me believe I can do anything I set my mind to. Just taking it one step at a time, eating those miles and accepting the help I need.

World Run Day 09

Every time I run I unlock new secrets of this fine art. In the middle of post-vacation post-backtowork fatigue, I took off midday and into the buffeting winds of Ida. Her cloud cover was never far from the sun, and gave me lots of respite from any real heat. The air felt fantastic; running into the winds is high exercise, and I relished the rhythm I got up from having to dig and dig consistently to move forward. Felt good.

I am alone in my head. The beauty of it is the solitude. We are a people not in touch with our own Selves. Distraction of every kind suck us into vortexes of compulsive purpose. So what's so unusual about seeking oneself? I take the first few steps with gleeful joy...I know that soon the trance will be upon me and any thought in my head is permitted and heard above the clip of my gait. I love that presence in my mind of endless storyboards...hoards of ideas, riots of ramifications, associations, imaginations. The movement sets me free. My meditation moves into the 3 dimensional world by stealth. I take the moment and add it with the train of my route, from back to top, up and down, around the streets I run.

I honor the power of my body, which I never knew I had. Sustaining itself just at the level of discomforts, with enough strength to feel the bones in my feet, the muscles of my calves, the pendulum swing of my arms arcing through the air.

The gods run after goddesses who hunt deep in forests alive with life. We are a running people, we join together, or separate as paths project themselves into our lives, leading us on down the road.

World Run Day 2009 awaits

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Though the story of my MCM marathon is coming out in dribs and drabs, new chapters get underway. The New York marathon on Sunday saw some surprising results, Meb taking the men's lead and Tulu the women's. I watched with compassion as my girl Paula fell behind from first position to 4th, which she shared with Ryan Hall on the men's side. I recognized all that agony and triumph, from pain to pleasure. If there is anything that encompasses both, it's the marathon.

World Run Day is coming up, and I will honor my compulsive avocation by joining anyone who wants to show up at Hugh Birch state park in Ft Lauderdale at 1P this Sunday. The last parking/picnic area on the right. One loop is shy of 2 miles. Do as many as you'd like. My plan? Remember I run to enjoy the many wonderful elements of the outdoors, fresh air, sunshine (please), and the rhythm of my own body. Share it with me and I have the pleasure of camaraderie. Slow slog it or sprint. Move your body, and your soul may thank you. Commit yourself to a new way of appreciating yourself. Promise to end the year with an eye towards better health, more energy next year.

I came home to work chaos and too much to do too suddenly. My thoughts go immediately to my next run. Tomorrow, its out again for a relaxed loop through the neighborhood. Relax my mind, build my body. Mend my spirit for the long road ahead.

The Team

Blink of an Eye- MCM and trip north Part 1

Carrier Library, JMU. A walk all around Harrisonburg, Virginia brought me to The Little Grill for a "collective" breakfast of amazing fresh, good food, a chat across the street at the Community Center, non-profit brainchild of LG folks-fame, a stop at Franklin St. Gallery, home of one of my wood sculptures, and to Grattan St. for a peek at another. It's strange to remember all the layers I inhabited here in Virginia. Carmel-in-the-Valley days, Valley Network, early family and Michael, artist at The Barn, Community Mediation Center, and back to school at JMU. It was 'yesterday' that I lived on Franklin St. and completed my bachelor's...everything is the same and completely different all at the same time! The last couple of days with the Jones', the few prior in West Virginia, taking the past to the past and speculating, dreaming the future.

All this on the heels of the marathon, and 26.2 miles of 'touring' greater Washington DC on foot. I am awestruck by the beauty of this whole area; is it any wonder it took me 17 years to leave it? I ran once in WVA on Tuesday just to see if I could; my quads and calves were still screamin' sore, but the walking is doing me good. My lovely daughter-in-law, and Director of Documentation has provided ample race photos, and when I get back to Florida I'll start to post to the blog. Meanwhile, I will only start with the sense of amazement that I did it, survived intact, and though posted a slow finish time, feel pride in finishing at all!! My first half an energetic charge to a second half overflowing with fatigue and discomfort. Moral of the story for now is stick to the halfs. Allow running to return to the mystical practice it has become to complete my connection between body and soul.

But I'm glad to have the roar of that crowd and the thousands of eager and supportive marines in my ear.

I can feel the energy of The Valley once more pushing itself through to a new level of change. Way back when we first came as outlanders to Carmel, in the late '70's, we had a vision of a "Mystery School." We saw ourselves pulling in the many young lightworkers who wanted to transform the world. In the blink of an eye, we turn around to find ourselves the same elders we once came to emulate. The professionals in the field, the family people, the core supporters of progressive projects popping like mushrooms from the fertile fields of historic endeavors. I bless those Mennonites, and other peace folks who brought it here. I bless the Native Americans who used it for their camp gatherings, building energies for a future us. I bless the young folks who pare it down to sustainability and heartfelt commitment to alternative lifestyles. I bless those sculptures for living on, with my imprint, in those rooms.

When I return, I will begin the process of sorting out the race photos. Postings to come will take the journey through the marathon. To all the finishers, it was one hell of a ride, wasn't it!? And to DC, and home of our President, deepest thanks.

Last Training Run

Tears kept coming to my eyes as I made my way from Florida to DC; what I read, what I thought, what I saw, anticipated, remembered...such pathos and generosity to life! Upper most was my Dad, and my Mom who holds the ground from her wheelchair watching as someone else she loves leaves...but I'll be back!! What a year it's been...

So off I go on my own hard-won adventure. My usual plane phobia seemed to have lifted as I managed to enjoy the flight. My body still protests cramped spaces, pollution fumes, too many people too close (I know, start line...LOL). But the anxiety that used to rocket me into panic was gone. The guy next to me, reeking of bad cologne and cigarettes looked more miserable...giving me a reference point to realize how things have 'normalized' in the travel realm.

The kids are so great. What can I say about my little international family? I love their wide love; full of playful, gentle acceptance. They teach me something about my own nerve-wracked trajectory in relationships. They settle my soul with hopeful good will and I thank them for that. I loved the futon next to Michael's station; something out of a futuristic place of work with his multi-screened, multi-tasked uber-panels, in conjunction with what I recognize as a slightly bohemian approach to the house...the stuff of lives, like mine, with a lot of reference points. The books, pix, knickknacks, the playful colors, slightly disorderly chaos I recognize so well from my own approach to home. I slept like I was somewhere 20 years ago, with a smile of simple comfort, and allowed my body to unwind itself into needed rest.

Today, Michael took the bike and me out for my last training run. Weather overcast, 50's...the colors of fall kissing the trees against the iron sky. We start all downhill which gives me false promise that I can handle it, until we meet up to the bike path, the trail and some serious ups and downs I never have in Florida. But it was better than I expected; in fact, I'd say the change-ups helped some of my chronic aches and pains as my body had to make adjustments in terrain. No wonder runners hate the flats. To focus on form and put a little speed to it, we take the flat path back, crossing the highways, coming back to his home hill where I managed at least a little push. Altogether 7 miles, and I feel fantastic. Hot shower. Toast with PB. And a day to read and relax. THIS is how you prepare for a marathon!

Tomorrow it's Expo and packet pick-up day. A last bit of frenzy to find my space to prepare mentally. There's nothing else I can do physically. I can eat what I want at last; I can massage and stretch. But at this point, whatever I've gotten done in training is done. I will rise or fall on the prior 6 months, 6 years. I don't know if I should be confident or scared out of my wits. But like everything else in life, I won't know until I show up! See you in Crystal City!

5 days to go

It's hard to believe the amount of minutia it takes to pack for this trip. Between the gear, nutritional items, warm clothes, cold clothes, workshop and business materials, reading materials, personal items it feels like moving the 7th Army. It was hard to sleep last night. An old theme came back into my dreams, of being out on the roads or trails...running...this time making a stop at an encampment where my first thought was, wow I'd like to be in a place just like this...as I passed orchards, gardens, greenhouses, green houses...a country oasis on the road between urbanization. And lo and behold the people there knew me! I found it only slightly odd that I didn't recognize them but it didn't seem to matter, I was apparently a regular visitor, and a call went out to see who wanted to run on with me. Again, this struck me as novel, but not to them. Two women, who seemed to be mother and daughter? with flaming red hair prepared to move out with me...in the back of mind I kept thinking 'this is apparently normal' LOL...somewhere not here in my regular life.

I woke before the alarm. It felt good to know that some ancient endeavor brings me close to this current adventure; that something seeped deep into my psychic makeup is made for long hauls, long treks, long runs, taking the message, carrying the news, connecting the communties of souls. Runners as free agents. Runners as secret shamans. In Born to Run, the Tarahumara turn out to be the Indians Carlos Castaneda studied in Mexico, but called them Yaquis to preserve their secrecy. The secret to running then is apparently the same as everything else; it's a spiritual path, and you commit to it the same way as any other practice. You learn from master teachers, you conquer your fears. You find the immutable core of yourself which is not moving when moving, which is moving when not moving. You make the leap into your life, and you don't second quess. You own the internal space you inhabit and let your feet and your heart lead the way.

It will be fascinating and fun to chronicle this adventure. Stay tuned. Doors are flying open everywhere. If you listen through these words, these images, you may find your own right mindedness cooking up new possibilities and big dreams. So dream BIG. Go for your heart's desire. And know the Universe is standing behind you putting the wind at your back, whether you know it or not.

See you in DC!

One Week to Go

This is me the last time I crossed the finish line at a marathon, my first, in Miami 2007. Notice I am still standing upright, but not much movement in those legs. I hit every predictable problem in that race...I had hip flexor pain which kept me from easing into my stride, I tanked out around mile 18 with bad weather blowing through, I ate too much en route, took too many potty breaks. But I'm proud to say I made it in right before 6 hours, and this is still my goal.

Yesterday for the last long run I woke up to a sudden crash of temps into the 50's with a big biting wind that called for a wardrobe change into longer pants, more layers and head gear. It was tough into the wind. My heart was heavy- I had to change plans for the run at the last minute...I felt that odd clash of inner enthusiasm with outward disappointment and kept remembering the Hathors with their caution to seek the inner center where nothing from the outside can disrupt; not the weather, not disappointing SOs, not family worries, not the future or the past. I focused on my footfalls as they fell into the light that I imagined emanated from the core of earth through my legs and up into the center of the galaxy a line that I could follow like the line of a spinning top as I took my last loop around Griffin, to Park. It was all sore and exhausting until I hit that last long stretch then I found my sweet spot and settled in to my imagined straight-away at some unknown mile a week from now. Ok so 2-3 times this, I know. Altogether, yes. But the crowds carry us along, and the other runners who show their own determination and enthusiasm so openly and joyously are contagious. And maybe for the first time, I share it with my family and friends. For Dad. For Mom; for me.

From this point on, its a long preparation..a week of adjustments from the work week, from So Flo to the big world of Washington DC, and the kids. The packed few days of getting everywhere so I can arrive at the start line on Sunday. For anyone who follows the blog, think of me and wish me well. There is light and air to all those prayers of well-wishing and I will appreciate every one.

Last Minute Glitches

After too much, too many interactions with the Great Apple folks, I finally have the earphone replacement I need for the new shuffle. How did we get so dependent on the gear that comes with running?? I keep in mind the Kenyans, the Taramuhara, the ancients who ran on a little cornmeal, and a whole lotta heart and sole. I am spoiled, over-anxious and under-confident. I make a mountain out of the small overpass, and think my 10 miles is really something.

My hip has a mysterious new pain. The bridge is open to traffic at mile 19 or 20....the weather calls for a nor'easter coming up. Shar was unable to book the workshop as I hoped.

Now its time to re-boot my expectations and forget about minutia of it all. I am so eager to get out and RUN tomorrow morning, just to MOVE, be on the GO, and escape the constraints of daily life. I am so constricted in my car, my office chair, my schedule. The run let's me get out and go, and go I must. Time soon enough to see if I've got anything to give to 26.2 miles. But in the end, it's just another loop around an endless endeavor, coming back to myself.

Marathon Spirit Builds

That's Sammy, the winner of the Chicago marathon, setting a course record of 2:05 and change. A Kenyan discovered by a Japanese trainer, he's the new uber-wunderkind of long distances. His entire being is lit up crossing that line! There's no fatigue, no "finally!"...just pure triumphant joy! Way to go, Sammy!!

Today I took my 10 miles in big gulps. At this point, its a mental game. No matter what my body is doing, my mind needs to stay in control. So at different intervals, I kicked into a higher gear and told myself, "go, go!" and felt that fantastic free-flight feeling of flying down the road. Even in the last miles on Park, I managed a nice clip despite a nagging ache in my hip. Funny how the aches and pains migrate around, as the twin stresses of sitting in the office all day and trying to get comfortable in bed plague me.

With days and counting, I am so there! The work days between me and leaving are the mile markers en route to my flight. I have everything at the ready, more or less; the gear, the workshop stuff, the various and sundry gifts. I've thought out the race options for dressing; I have a little bit of an idea where I'm going. Last will be packing a picture of Dad to carry to the finish. The race, which is packed with military personnel, is the perfect place to honor him. Jules Max Cowen, shipfitter third class, US Navy, will be running along laughing his ass off I'm sure at the sheer spectacle of the race- something he was never able to see in real life. But I'm sure the tears will flow for both of us as the accomplishment comes into view. Wherever his spirit takes him, I hope this boost teleports him into a good place; where his buddies are waiting with warm hugs to carry him over the line.

Soon, Dad, we'll be there.

Yoga Day

The heat and humidity made mincemeat of me yesterday....I fell asleep early and woke late. Put my effort into yoga today to build the chi back and stretch/strengthen everything sore. And it works! I've been more beat up than this after longer runs, and consistent attention to adjustments, diet and rest seem to be a stabilizing influence.

Mentally, I'm cooling down the engines of anxiety, and shifting, instead, into how to make maximum enjoyment from so much intense activity! Once out on the course, I feel confident my natural enthusiasm will kick in. Being back with the family, the circle of friends, will be a homecoming for sure! And making whatever professional inroads are possible as I take my 'show' on the road, is icing on the cake. It will be sweet reward for the years of hard work I've put into my career.

Today, I remember that I come from tough stock...from survivors of pogroms, immigrants, strivers and fighters and dreamers. I honor the core of resolve that marks my progress in life and bless myself for the pathos of the struggle. I recognize that some things, like art, I engage inconsistently and endeavor to create a greater role; not just thinkng about it, doing it. I honor the things I make consistent, like the long loopy miles of testing myself against my own preconceived notions of physical fitness and health. I read back through my RBWO 'Facilitators Handbook' and smile at the description of physical ills....knowing I have come a long way towards healing what ailed me. If the trip represents anything unique, it's a chance to put all those threads of development on the line, and move fearlessly (well, relatively speaking) into the unknown. The future me is all smiles, for she knows the fruits of my labor, the results of my dreams are steps away...keep moving, she keeps telling me. When you tire, when you ache, keep going. When your mind tries to shut you down, keep running. The line is there. We are there. And connection is made with all those who run by your side.

T-minus 2 weeks

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I bought "Born to Run" yesterday, among other items for the trip. The story of the Tarahumara will make for excellent preparation about everything about to unfold. The Inner Runner, the Inner Artist, the Inner Sage/Shaman....they will all be called out into action.

The passion of my vision is in pretty stark contrast to the reality of my status. The heat and humidity, extreme even by So Florida standards, have put something like a wet blanket over me. My body doesn't want to respond, flow or comply with my training plan, or my will. It wants to protest, ball itself up into exhaustion and wish the race away.

At 3AM, thinking it was time to get up after my alarm stopped and started, I got up and got dressed. Why are all the other clocks saying 3, when the alarm clock says 5:15? I would have headed out, too, but fell back to the bed, clothes on. At 5:15, when the alarm, corrected, went off, I was groggy and sweaty...the line-up of supplements, calorie ingredients and gear was ready. My head felt like twilight zone meets my daily dreams which had taken on an aura of petty but primal fears...burglarizing, protecting and security.

And sure as molasses, the ipod crapping out - again. As I got going, the red hot filaments of dawn were shooting the edges of the horizon ... our first miles out, we headed right for it, and caught the luxurious and surreal blue of the lumescent light on the new ocean- the air pungent with low tide, the birds slow to awake.

I was awkward, sore, my left hamstring had tightened up, and I couldn't reach my gait, which kept hopping away with the flail of my arms. The stop at North Beach was as long as I could suck it up; the chance to stand still, to wonder, what the hell was going on with my body now?

Somewhere in old east Hollywood, I mustered the will to put some paces together; nothing comfortable, just drilling my brain with the idea that no matter what we would be running, and soon. To adjust to the conflict, the torment between body and mind. I prayed that somehow the wings of Mercury would find me despite transplanting north, that despite my lower expectations, something miraculous was available.

The finish, the fight to get there, the story to tell. Opening the way for new roads and races to fan themselves out in the future, just as new opportunities to spread my dreams unfold. The circle we run in the course of the race is just another mandala afterall, and each one stamped with the resonate personality of the runner. We show our colors, our form. We display for anyone to see, our face to the sun. Our arms, our legs, carry the momentum past the line, as we stake the claim for more. The journey never ends.

Taking it on the Road, in more ways than one!

For 16 years I have fulfilled my mission of achieving the credentials I needed to be the professional facilitator and counselor I started out as back at the Barn. How amazing is it that I'm able to take the Right Brain Workout to my alma mater JMU! The trip north is shaping up to be an amazing opportunity to reconnect and strengthen ties in many areas; my blood and spiritual families, my work and not least of all, my running!

It proves how fruitful the journey, if we stick to our forward momentum, and just keep moving. It took running to really give me the foundation to learn how to apply this daily. It took running to build strength, endurance, self-confidence and marry the physical with the spiritual. My life has twisted and turned itself through the backroads of my dreams; but who knows? Maybe the world has caught up with me at last, and the 'message' of Intuitive Us, of the natural creative webs at work inside and out, connecting us to the vision of our future selves, our future world, is able to get heard.

It's my time. I carry the dream. Many goals are in place waiting for me to find them, realize them, put them to good use. May the energy I need to make it happen be available to me! And the Beneficent Ones who believe in me, lend their hearts and hands.

T-minus 3 weeks

Today I gave my body a round of yoga to help restore the bruising run yesterday. From start to finish I was out for 5 hours....making a very big loop up and over to the beach, back up through Hollywood, and back to Dania Bch Blvd and heading west until I tacked another 5 miles onto a base 15- for somewhere around 20. Plenty of pit stops.
A few walk stretches mostly in the last hour. If you imagine running most of this in high 80's heat then it was a solid effort...then imagine all this in cooler temps and crowds around, runners and spectators all combining energies...that's what carries us to the line.

I was surprised at how much of the run felt good. The settling into my body's own rhythms while listening to good tunes and allowing my inclination to daydream loose...Meandering through neighborhoods, this time Dania Beach just west of Federal, passing the ladies in dress whites coming to church, the relaxed group at bus stops in no hurry on a Sunday, snaking my way through towards 95. It was good to be off the usual course...it kept me distracted from distances, and how my feet and legs were feeling. The aches and pains in my left foot, ankle and leg are a drag, but appear to be a function of constant adjustment. Lots of icing, massage and stretch aftewards, and yoga today.

According to my latest edition of Runner's World, I can hold that as the last very long run. There is no way I can do more in the S. Florida heat. It's close enough to give me a psychological reminder of the distance. At the race, it will be up to willpower and the fates to bring it home. Meanwhile I am still on schedule. Next weekend, do 15 as the longest, and the weekend before I leave a good 10'er.

There will be lots to learn from this experience....not the least of which is understanding how training and racing functions in my life right now. Post-marathon I need to make the next big push for my state exam, and distances will need to revert to the manageable. This seems reasonable, as long as the 'trekker' in me has that outlet to wander the streets. Miami may not be a second marathon this year, but I could still do the half with steady effort. But whether races remain, running will....and the space inside my head where the pulse of my heart meets the sweat of my soul in tandem with my dreams.

3rd last long run

home (Park/Sheridan) east towards beach, north to Dania Beach B, east to the pier and straight down the beach to the N. beach station- 1st stop. Down the broadwalk over Hollywood B straight to Young Cirle and publix- 2nd stop. Straight through downtown under 95, north on Park to publix- 3rd stop. continue park and cut west to catch another small loop over and up to home....

I took one significant walk break towards the end and found I had it in me to complete the run without undue stress. naturally I am pretty played now, but my confidence is growing.

My true goal is to be able to enjoy the race. Too much physical distress and I'll be managing my discomfort. But if I can settle in, and adjust even when it's hard, I can really absorb the experience.

The reality of doing it for Dad is beginning to come back to me, to join my efforts with all the others, the good soldiers, the warriors, the protectors. I'd like to think we'll seal the deal, that mutual recognition and love has come to us. The end of the race, a confirmation that I'll do anything to represent.

Autumnal Light Begins

If light is a state of mind, the 'shining' through or illumination of understanding, insight, clarity, inspiration, then the struggle with darkness is an incubation in preparation to receive it. The cauldron of mind that hold the yin/yang of opposite forces struggles mightily to relieve itself of this tension, hoping, by choice, to surrender to something greater than mere will, the tiny effort of a single human against cosmic forces. I feel that sometimes. The lure of 'position'. Just when you find a comfortable foothold either in your depression or bliss, the pendulum begins to sway you off your mark...the delicate balance shifts, and before you know it, you stare down the barrel of a new set of issues....regrouping, recouping, ready as much as you can be for the next push.

I wasn't planning on anything long today. In fact I was pretty sore after 2 runs 2 days in a row. But I woke before the alarm, tiring myself out from the whirring mess of anxiety-driven dreams and decided to reverse my usual course and see what happens.
My goal was to be in the moment, focus on form and let my body grow accustomed again to being ot on my feet. At least the weather was with me, and the air has lost that heaviness of summer. My feet dragged themselves up the overpass, down to Taft and over to Park before the sun was fully up. The 2 mile stretch out Park became marginally more comfortable as I found my stride, and decided to make my stop at the 56th Ave Publix. Back up to Stirling, the long haul back to Park was where I needed that faith in all the past training that put some amount of energy in those tired muscles. It felt heavy in my heart but the very fact that I was still moving out past my length yesterday gave me a small measure of hope; could I still ramp up enough miles to succeed?

My dearest friend, one of many of my 'team' who pull for me, reminds me that Light is freely available- and given. I love her generosity. Prevailing over the pull of darkness, which has its own purposes, to recall the state of blissful being is a very blessed thing. I, who have so much familiarity with dark places forget how lovely and healing the Light can be. And every step on the run, with the sun full on my face I soak it up bit by beautiful bit.

I Pray

A month out from the marathon I am recuperating from a week down and out of the game. Altogether it was only 3 days of absolutely no running/no training, but it might as well have been a month. Yesterday I did a slow 5 and today a slower 7-8. Where did my endurance go??

The fog that I succumbed to, which demanded healing on so many levels, leached the very energy from me, body and soul. I felt like a zombie trying to find my Self, as I wandered the empty roads in my head...scaring myself with the ghosts of the past creeping by who seemed mute to answer or awaken to me, or me to myself, a dim time indeed.

Today, it was solemn. The ipod is again on the fritz (how many does this make? I should buy Apple stock...)- so it was sans music and just the thoughts in my head as I woke extra early to head out. Storm clouds threatened- what else is new? and I kept thinking, all I need is to get caught in the rain again...a conspiracy to be sure. My dreams, which have been a stew of work and family anxieties, kept stirring around. Nothing felt right. The very idea of a marathon just seemed laughable. I was determined, however feebly, to get something accomplished, knowing I cannot take the trip back, the registration, the airfare, the hotel. If the plan is in place, I must show up. And only miles will put me at that start line.

I tried to focus. I took lots of little walk breaks. I prayed. I couldn't even find the words within for specifics, in fact it became a mantra in step with my footfalls, "I pray...I pray..." as I attempted one of my many visualizations which sees my physical body in line with the etheric and grounded into the earth, working together all of a piece...

One of my many books marked in mid-reading caught my attention post-run as it spoke about "getting ahead of oneself" and how for runners this is a particular irony; how do you get ahead when you are exactly where you are? I realized that I was ahead of myself all summer long- hoping by sheer will to stay on schedule as I visualized those big miles and the big race ahead. I got ahead of myself and my capacity, as I usually do, for many things, for the ability to sustain the work, the grief, the process and transition of so much change. Even the strong take a fall, and I fell. To pieces.

There were parts of the run that were reminiscent of good runs past. I almost felt normal a few times as my feet found the pavement and the rest of me 'zoned out' into the early sun which found its brilliant way through trails of clouds. The Equinox reminds me how much it always comes back to balance; finding that knife edge between handling it, accepting it, and moving it through....I am where I am. Starting again to build so many things. When I come to the line I hope I have everything I need to finish. But for now I leave it in the hands of the gods who have gotten me this far. I must trust, as always, that my best effort is matched with Their beneficent intervention. Can you tell me, how to sustain the courage to come to the moment, one more time?

Surreality

While the sun hammers hot through unimaginably clear skies (having nothing but clouds or rain for so long) I lay sick on the couch. How did this happen? Just over a month out from MCM...expect the unexpected seems the lesson at hand.

After no runs Mon and Tues, I ran 10 miles yesterday early AM, more curious to know I could, regardless of my physical state. I made it alright, but it seemed to bring on the cold/flu which was itching to come to the surface. So ok, no running today, probably not tomorrow either and the weekend, we'll see.

I dreamt last night of a school too big, that I could not find my way back to my room where all my 'stuff' was...while along the way I kept having to speak or intervene with someone or some group which was all well and good, but....I knew I needed to take care of me. DUH.

It's wierd to be passive when my will says otherwise. It's strange when my otherwise high-energy body succumbs. I never realize how strong I am until I'm not. But physical illness is a reflection of so many things, so I know it is a good thing to allow all the flotsam and jetsam from this summer to circulate their way through. It's always hard to believe when you're down that the upside is waiting. But we know the pendulum eventually swings over... the patience to work with process is an artform. Anything I can do to enhance my healing is underway. I know the love and support of my team would say so.

Seeking Serenity

So it only felt like 20....according to a mapping site what I ran this morning was 15....very hard to believe....felt like much longer.
But at least it didn't rain.

I woke with a sore throat but determined to get out there, pushing myself and my weary headedness to take on the challenge of the long Griffin loop out to University and back...(15?? really??). It wasn't pretty. And I walked portions. Guzzled more than my share of water, drinks, chews and gels...cramming enough electrolytes to get me through unexpected heat.

I felt suddenly without thought or ambition as if all the energy spent building and piling on through this year has been escaping through a slow leak like a tire going flat. My heart, which has been pitched about in storms of distress, demands and disappointments suddenly felt empty. It was an old ache, a realization of taking on my own road again, and telling myself it will be ok, I have the endurance, I train; I can take it this time.

But where is the serenity of knowing that deep solitude is bound by love? It is always back to the Source, I suppose and the wondrous imperative that keeps me forward-footed. I can only hope that the path They lay before me has enough surprises to keep me coming back for more as I weave my own notion of accomplishment, of dreams into the fabric of Their expectations. Be kind, Beneficent ones, and tell me, after all, it goes somewhere, leads to surprising love.

Caught in the Rain

I really didn't care what the weather had in store, I needed to get out on the road. As I cruised over the railroad lines, I could see the fates were set to test me; a low bank of gray clouds clung to the horizon blocking the dawn sun. Everything began to coalesce east and south of me as I ran ahead of a front, and felt the pushing winds develop at my back. I made it all the way to Griffin and Publix before it let loose...and stood way too long wondering when to head back out as it rained, and rained and rained....

I realize at odd times just how claustrophobic I can get. Before long a Brinks truck, a vacuum truck (to suck up what exactly?), and a knot of trapped shoppers crowded me under the store eaves. It wasn't looking good as I thought out my options. Go back the way I came to cut down Park, or continue west and cut through Emerald Hills, shaving a few miles off the 10-er I planned. I took a Publix shopping bag and ripped it open over my head, giving me enough cover on my core to keep the worst of the windy rain off. And with that, I slipped out and headed into the rain...

There is something surreal and comforting about running in rainy weather. The shock of nature closing in with its relentless elemental presence pushes me inward, and yet every sense needs to be focused on the road, puddles, sidewalk formations, rocks...everything that can trip up a runner that gets hidden in standing puddles of water. The cars sounded too loud. The effort to stay dry (especially my feet) abandoned. Once I rounded the corner at Emerald I was feeling amazingly relaxed. As I've been doing, I pictured running in DC and pretended this was fall weather. I felt my legs open up to the sudden decrease in traffic and quieting roads. The rhythm felt good. My shoes, though soaked, were not pooling water, so they were doing their job well. My spirits, which were crushed at the initial onslaught of rain settled down as the storm tapered off into drizzly patches, keeping me cool for the last push.

I know I wanted to cry; the frustrations and sorrow were there. But maybe the rain did it for me. As I came home along the park, I felt tired and serene. It was a big push that felt farther and longer, but just enough to get me away from the pressures of home. I run to find solace and peace. And so far, it has never let me down.

15 and counting

The weather may be creating some challenges to an outdoorsy holiday weekend, but so far it's been a boon to training....the rain has not developed until later in the day. The mornings are cooler, with more cloud cover and so much easier to endure even a few degrees less than before.

So yesterday, starting out after 6:30AM was still pre-dawn, and cool enough to feel refreshing. My left ankle has been acting up with the new shoes, so I decided to do a long beach loop on my own and just take it real easy. From start to finish, out my door and back, up To Dania Beach Blvd and down the Broadwalk, through Hollywood and home by Sheridan is 15 miles. What 'Coach' and I have been doing is an 11 miler....Out west, I can put extra miles on the Griffin loop. This would be good, though, to begin extending what has been within my comfort zone and see what going alone feels like.

Heading east into the dawn. On weekend mornings, the serious cyclists are out in packs, strewn along the big roads in their multi-colored tops and helmets, their gleaming bikes strewn like jewels shooting down the sides osf the road. They are all business, too. I was in a good stretch all the way up to Dania, and did not feel the need to stop at either Publix. On the bridge over the Intercoastal I saw a knot of cyclists hovering over a man down. Looked like they had it covered. The entire pack riding with him obviously hovering to help....I felt suddenly very alone, invisible...what if something happened to me? Where is my team, where is my support?

Odd how the mind wants to make a case out of thin air and circumstances to trip up our confidence and resolve. I was over the bridge and heading south on the Broadwalk after my first pit-stop at the rest area on the beach, and feeling beat-up but elated. So far it was going well, even with my sore ankle. I was dressed right, packed right. And I was in no hurry. The shelf of gray clouds hovering over the morning sun skirting the ocean's surface like a shroud, parting now and then for a ray of light to kiss the water. The democracy of runners was out and about, trotting, dragging, jogging, bounding down the path. I felt too close and ached for the open road again, skipping out before Hollywood to run down to the bridge away from the crowds and took the overpass in a long, hard climb.

At the bottom on the other side, the early morning old Hollywood neighborhood took me in its quiet embrace. I had a good rhythm pulling along the picturesque streets, finding my way safely through the threat of a thunderstorm to my pit stops before making it home. Did it take a long time? You bet!~ But I was on my feet and able to maintain. I pictured myself 15-18 miles in and knowing "there is still another race to go"...with 6+ miles to the line. I felt the pain and discomfort and kept going anyway. I knew, somehow, that when I needed it, I would have it; the strength, the courage, the capacity, even if I lose the initial comfort and confidence. Something will bring me into that line. Someone will be waiting. A lot of someones will be there, this time.

Mom was better yesterday, if compared to "i want to die"...and able to evoke a sense of calm in me I haven't felt in a long long time. For a brief moment I was able to let go of my constant worry for her. I felt the Universe holding her separate from me, on her own timetable with her own process at work. I took back my desire to give up and morphed it into a peaceable distance from the stress of everyone else's life. My mind, which was taken up on that open road, still found itself gratefully running down some singular, singing dream.

It's all Mind

I listened to the Phelipidations podcast today talk about a Finnish long-distance runner from the early 1900's, a gold medalist, and like all great people, a tragic and triumphant figure. Many many years before it became fashionable to think so, this guy felt running was all in the mind. We know, as runners, just how true that is, while we work incessantly at the very mechanics of our sport; the constant attention to food and water, training and goals, the gear, the goals, the times, the trials...yet the perseverance that makes all of us get out there day after day is a critical component. Not a lazy bunch. Not dependent on vast armies of support teams, we tend to be loners, solitaries, who revel in the privacy of the run, the sanctity of our inner life which no one can disturb as long as we keep on the move. The blessed relief from having to deal with anyone else's pain but our own.

I switched things up a bit this week. The new Brooks 'Ghosts' were so good as I began the week that I kept running each day, finishing out with well above 50 miles for the week after Saturday's very long loop. I continued west on Griffin this time determined to find a better way to cut down towards my mid-run stop at the Stirling Publix- and found one. Looping under the Turnpike and taking a left on Wilson, a beautiful country road took one amazingly long stretch past old Davie money houses set on the canal, as peaceful and beautiful a road as I've found in a long time; room to stretch out my stride and practice the opening of my body and mind before finding that store at the bottom corner. I was exhilarated and exhausted in the extreme heat and only halfway out. I looped back at Davie Rd and began the snake-like slog back through the Seminoles, over to the park which was my last pit-stop before the stretch home on Thomas, which was so long, sometimes so exhausting, that I completely forgot about the time.

Then came the visit to the cemetery, and the sad little marker, Mom's anxiety episode and refusal to get out of the car, and the few brief moments I had standing by the pads of grass that did not look as green as the rest to ask, Please Dad, please help. I'm all alone in this. Help me help her. And feeling that dull ache from days of feeling the unfolding of death with Ted Kennedy and the thousands of mourners who thanked and honored him compared to the mysterious dearth of company as we laid my fallen hero to his rest. Hardly time to leave the tiger's eye stone, to commemorate his courage to live, at all, through that last year of hell. To say 'I understand' to his isolation, fear, rejection and anger; understood because I was feeling it too. I was shy to talk, to say, to reveal my anger, my ache, my fear.

As we drove out of the cemetery I only wanted to get Mom home so I could go on to my own day. Sunday was a big blur of motionless emptiness peppered with chores, fattening comfort foods, and early bed. My expectations for today's run was zero. The prospect of training, of a race for christ's sake, a MARATHON seemed as unlikely as going to the moon.

So late out, with the sun already on the rise, I began slow hobbling jog over the overpass. All the way to my first stop on Griffin everything hurt, including my heart. I was determined to complete a normal 10 mile loop and had little heart before the podcast came on the the line "It's all Mind"...from the Finnish runner. I had to laugh to myself how the same old messages keep coming ad nauseum. At the bottom of every hole I fall into, the same few words are thrown to me like life-lines to remember, I can change, I can make it happen, I can change my mind.

It wasn't intentional, but by the time I crossed Stirling and began the long stretch down to Sheridan and my next stop I found a rhythm and was feeling strong. I picked it up again after my last Anderson park pit-stop and with one swoop down Park kept a pace and gait that I haven't felt in a long time, easy, comfortable (well, relatively speaking), and with as much energy as I needed to bring it in.

So maybe it was the chocolate chip cookies. Or the outpouring of emotions all week. Or maybe the mantra hits me just when I need it, the kernel of universal truth that unlocks the stuck door in my head. I trust. I try. I keep putting myself out there to test my every reserve. I don't know how others do it, how much they hide behind their hopes and ambitions. Maybe I have too, over other things. But this one thing, this running, has enabled me to put it to the test everyday. To declare myself a contestant in the race of life. Put me in coach, I can run it. I can make it to the end. For the first time today I thought of the marathon not as something I might be able to complete but as something I WILL complete, and pictured the full throttle excitement of crowds, friends, family welcoming me into their midst. I am so there. I am ready to go. I will be ready to run.

Welcome Home, Senator Kennedy

For my entire life I have come up under the shadow of the Kennedys. I was 13 when the President was assassinated and the subsequent death of Robert shortly after was a milestone event in my life. I was galvanized then, with MLK's death in the same era, to become the radical, non-conforming, anti-establishment lefty liberal progressive I am today. Amazing that I work for government, but maybe, like Ted I find my way into the heart of the beast as a system's buster. Which is good and necessary. It is Teddy and Robert and John, and Martin and the countless other martyrs who took a bullet or took on the hottest issues and ideas of our era who pave the way for the rest of us. I am in awe of the legacy they leave as we now begin to traverse a new time. As Sen. Kennedy passed his torch to the current President, we held our collective breaths praying for safe passage for this most radical of choices. The spirit of social justice nation lives on in our endeavors to change, change change the climate of fear, hypocracy inequality, injustice...

It may have been hot and unforgiving out this morning, but I knew deep in my heart that when I turned the news on something was happening. Don't ask me how I knew. I thought maybe a disaster, weather event etc. Little did I guess such a notable passing.

Welcome Home, Teddy, your brothers, friends, family and colleagues await you. Feel the rush of relief as earthly pains and tragedies melt into the satisfaction of lifelong accomplishment. Your legacy will live on in hearts like mine. Thanks and farewell.

Road Rage

The pressure has been building, there's no doubt. As one project/goal/task completes, the endless list of others calls. As energy ramps up into the swirling dance of chaos upon us, it feels like we never cut a break; everything takes effort, time and constancy. The Universe staggers on its course of upheaval and transformation. No one said birth would be easy. No one asked to take it on the chin.

My advent into the pre-dawn day is met now with the back to schoolers, filling the roads with more traffic, more kids, more noisy, nasty sounds and exhaust. I am not a patient person. My philosophy is, if I respect the rules of the road then I have every right to be out on them. You, the bigger faster cars, must look out for me. On the quest for big miles, there is no way sidewalks will do. The open road is my preference always.

Not everyone agrees apparently. I am getting my share of motorists who feel it is their duty to 'school' me. That's when I realize the inner rage, which has been on a low slow boil, is ready to burst. Please, don't get in my way, don't muck up the works, don't pollute my mental field. I am willing to fight for my space, my power, my stand. Do not underestimate my resolve.

The magic at Park over took me as I dug into the rhythm of that long, straight stretch towards home. I was sans ipod, so the chatter in my head kept running the same few song lines over and over. I created a mental image of the pyramid-Holon as well as the space where Ba and Ka overlapped and played with the idea of how moving through that zone creates the mix of energies which helps to pull the etheric into the physical body. Maybe that's another reason why the run is so therapeutic. By the time I passed the last light, I was on point- still striding despite the heat and fatigue. The new shoes, my 'Ghosts', were everything I hoped- better room, greater comfort, and they took me into the last mile with confidence and ease.

I have 2 10 miles loops in a row, solid ones. The rage has settled back into its slow boil, losing some of its steam into sadness and resolution. There is still deep joy at the fingers of dawn greeting me on the initial overpass. And pride when I drag my hopes and dreams back home at the finish. If we keep recognizing how we feel, what we do takes on new meaning. We power our efforts with tears, and sometimes we cannot tell if they are sorrow or joy.

Morning Run

I did not sleep enough or well....all week it feels like I'm fighting a deep-down fatigue that seems to emanate from some well of emotional reserve that seeks outlet, and is finding little space to crawl out from the mountain of sadness I get stuck in. I am adopting a "be kind to myself" attitude, and crawled out of bed at 6 determined that a good run would help shake up my system. As I began the slow and creaky jog to the overpass, fingers of pink dawn penetrated the slate-blue night skies, barely lit with a sun soon on the rise. Something about those tendrils of color sent a thrill down my spine; not quite rainbows, but unexpected shots of color nonetheless...they seemed to want to remind me to look up, be prepared for more unexpected surprises to come...

It didn't get any easier. My ankles and feet were protesting and I couldn't find comfortable footing. By the time I hit Park and that long straight stretch towards home, I lost track of time. This has been happening more lately, out on the longer loops, the distortion in my sense of time ballooning the trip to feel like I'm gone half a day, gone to another world, truly lost in space.

Maybe this is my coping mechanism, or maybe the wobble in planetary adjustments means more warping of the space/time continuum all the way around. It wouldn't surprise me to know this is par for the course...and all sentient beings are having challenges in staying grounded while the ever-unfolding transition spins us all around and around.
Those footfalls are meant to hold me and help those bones of mine sync into one another as they traverse the roadways. But sometimes even 3 dimensional flesh and blood is as ephemeral as air, clouded with the colors of our every hope and dream.

Hurricane Season '09

The shreds of TS Ana kicked up pockets of big wind and rain squalls this morning, not enough to cancel the run, but just enough to cool off the heat and provide a bit of variety on the loop. The first squall came through as I dipped into the Griffin Publix, and the second wave skirted to my east. Florida is home of big weather. Hurricane Bill, which is gathering itself for major status appears headed to the north Atlantic. I don't know how we're doing it, but so far this year, it is remarkably quiet.

I couldn't get Mom off my mind. Last night I dreamt of a black and white dog I had (since I had many I wasn't sure which one) which I realized was sick or injured. In between the clients and work, my residence (which was different in the dream) I tried to juggle getting this dog out to seek care. If this wasn't a commentary on the situation, I don't know what is. As I sought a good rhythm in my gait I kept thinking about Dad and how much is left in the wake of his departure. I felt heavy with responsibility and asked him please, can you take care of mom? Help her along her way...? She looks at me behind those cloudy eyes while I look back and try to reassure her, take your door, it's there. I try to juggle the many balls in the air to get her care...will I do a good enough job...will she make it peacefully in to her own finish line?

I recognize my own drift in resolve, the part of me that gets fatigued with worry and the endless list of things to do. For the first time in forever I thought, why run? Will I really do this the rest of my life? Or will this, too, fall the way of other pursuits, my so-called avocations, talents and abilities....? I don't want to think there are endings for me, but a pause in the play of my spirit. If sometimes I write, and others make art, or if running is the thread that holds me together, does it really matter which way my soul seeks to express itself? I try not to judge the outcome, but it's difficult when the passage of time challenges us to keep up the momentum of lifetime pursuits. The old artists had it right, always. Nothing gets in their way. The muses will hound them morning and night to channel the spirit of Big Forces making their way in the world. We must heed them, listen, and open up the arms of our creativity in whatever means they choose. We must be ready to go.

The Fastest Man (we know of)

Yoga Day

I watched Usain "Lightening" Bolt, from Jamaica, become the world's fastest man as he nailed the 100 m in 9.58. The World Championships in Berlin are being held in the same stadium as Adolf Hitler's era in 1936. History keeps being made in many ways. I was splayed out on the floor after my own long run earlier in the day, the long loop over to the beach was my best one yet. For no good reason except that I got a pretty good night's sleep, the integrity of my body was there. One stop at the head of the Broadwalk and it was full out down to the bottom, cutting over to Hollywood and winding our way back up through the old neighborhoods laying silent and serene in the Sunday morning.

It was good to know my body had it together to manage what has been a painful slog with some ability. Now do it twice....! When I run the week-day loops I remind myself that not so long ago, I was cutting smaller circles in the neighborhood and feeling triumphant at 3, 4, 6 milers. Just as I sent the transcripts into the State to request an exam date for licensure I had to remind myself there was a day when I had no supervision hours and no classes....and now, the finish line is in sight.

Everything moves along if we just recognize it...the pull and push of our energy is often out of sync with the steady progression of momentum itself. One way or the other, the passage of creation and dissolution moves us through the world. It is Mind which thinks of itself, judges itself, appoints itself ahead or behind.... but what is the gauge? The Universe is poised to move itself into a new stage of manifesting
its own wonderful story. Are we part of its tragedies or triumphs? Can we escape the destruction of what must pass to make way for rebirth? I have faith, even as I get tired. But my body, which responds in a way beyond my control, 'knows' the inner link to larger forces. And it's all taking me along for the ride.

Nailing 50

Hard to believe that despite everything I am 'on schedule'...nailing my first 50 miles per week this week, and increasing the long run by a mile or so...just enough to kick my ass, but not so much that I couldn't finish the beach loop Sunday.

It's good to have a team. Our routine now is using my 'coach' on the bike while I run, which helps keep me focused on running and not "where is the next rest stop?" According to 'Coach' I had a few very good stretches where I managed to keep a good pace, and didn't crumble into a heap. Even though we'd started out just after 6 AM, it was oppressive and baking hot coming up through the old Hollywood neighborhood. Realizing I do TWICE of what I did yesterday is what I'm aiming for...can my legs, my heart and willpower juice up to the level of at least completing 26.2 in one piece? Where should my expectations be?

You run your own race. No matter how much coaching or training plans, it all comes down to that conversation in your head when you just want to quit. Everything in life is about this conversation. Getting the umph up past the inertia that wants to spread itself like a blanket on the ground. I needed that too, though. Hours of recovery watching movies, the news, Bill Maher....more sleep than usual. Better nutrition.

It never hurts to have a little love to smooth the way. The loneliest long distance runners still need their team. My heart swells knowing there are many standing with me no matter what I do...who wait for me at signposts along the way or cross my path just when I need a boost. The Greater Team is poised to cheer me on and lend unseen hands to help. I acknowledge the enormous effort invested in my endeavors, and the eagerness to see me through.