some days it feels as though you're not getting anywhere.
you wake up in the same room, follow the same exercise routine, push the same button on the coffeemaker. have the same breakfast, make the same lunch, go through the familiar routine in the shower.
work, face the same issues, make similar phone calls, have conversations you've had again and again.
and all of this can happen, daily, while you're working on changing big things in your life. incremental changes that slowly--hopefully--build upon themselves, moving you ever so minutely each day to a place that will, someday, be quite different.
I have a daughter who has been working to lose weight. since last august she has lost over thirty pounds, and she's looking fantastic. she's losing it at a rate of about 5 pounds a month, which is a healthy, consistent pace, but one that is imperceptible on a daily basis.
yet where she is today is dramatically different than where she was 6 months ago.
we forget to give ourselves credit for this kind of movement as we're working our way through it. it's hard: today looks no different than yesterday. it's easy to get caught in the mind game of I'm not getting anywhere, especially when today feels no different than yesterday.
my other daughter is a twilight fan, loves the books, loves the movies. I fell in love with a song a few weeks ago that---unbeknownst to me---is featured in breaking dawn, part I. other than that, I love the song. a refrain from this song, which is called a thousand years, is this:
one step closer.
I'm hanging my hat on this these days.
I can't see or even at times feel any movement, yet I have to keep believing that I am moving,
one step forward, one step at a time, one step closer. I am going to get there, because these small, incremental steps are going to, eventually, get me somewhere.
and today, I am one step closer than I was yesterday.
I'll let you know when I can see the peak, and for now, I am going to keep reminding myself that yes, truly, I am one step closer.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Saturday, March 3, 2012
life cycles
the power camp workout today was a series of 30-second efforts in zone 5, sprints, painful things.
there were 3 minutes of recovery between them, which were blissful minutes, fully enjoyed and appreciated.
at the end of each sprint I felt awful, and three minutes later, I was fine to go again.
hmm.
life is like this.
a series of sprints---intense, challenging, sometimes breathtaking, sometimes painful---bracketed with periods of recovery.
and as brutal or difficult some of the sprints might be, it's the recovery phases that are often more exacting.
it's easy to love the highs, the intensity, the adrenaline, being challenged, being asked to step up and be our best, performing well, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
recovery, on the other hand, can be slow, can feel stagnant, can ask us to---argh---be patient, have faith. they say we only build strength during periods of recovery.
what life gives us is a balance of both, though it might not always feel that way. there are times when I feel I've been sprinting for much too long, and times when a lengthy recovery lulls me into despondency. patience, balance, faith.
today reminded me that life is full of opportunities for sprints, and full of opportunities for recovery. and although I like to think I'm in charge, I am apparently not.
it's like the universe is this great cosmic power camp coach, continuously demanding sprints, then forcing recovery. in an often random pattern, without prior notice, spontaneously.
sigh.
I've been through a big sprint these last two months, and I'm suffering my way through a recovery week now, trying to dig up patience and faith, aching for a new sprint.
which will inevitably come, and I guess my job is to make the most of this recovery so that I'm ready.
for the next sprint.
any time now.
bring it on.
I'm going to be completely ready.
let's go.
there were 3 minutes of recovery between them, which were blissful minutes, fully enjoyed and appreciated.
at the end of each sprint I felt awful, and three minutes later, I was fine to go again.
hmm.
life is like this.
a series of sprints---intense, challenging, sometimes breathtaking, sometimes painful---bracketed with periods of recovery.
and as brutal or difficult some of the sprints might be, it's the recovery phases that are often more exacting.
it's easy to love the highs, the intensity, the adrenaline, being challenged, being asked to step up and be our best, performing well, feeling a sense of accomplishment.
recovery, on the other hand, can be slow, can feel stagnant, can ask us to---argh---be patient, have faith. they say we only build strength during periods of recovery.
what life gives us is a balance of both, though it might not always feel that way. there are times when I feel I've been sprinting for much too long, and times when a lengthy recovery lulls me into despondency. patience, balance, faith.
today reminded me that life is full of opportunities for sprints, and full of opportunities for recovery. and although I like to think I'm in charge, I am apparently not.
it's like the universe is this great cosmic power camp coach, continuously demanding sprints, then forcing recovery. in an often random pattern, without prior notice, spontaneously.
sigh.
I've been through a big sprint these last two months, and I'm suffering my way through a recovery week now, trying to dig up patience and faith, aching for a new sprint.
which will inevitably come, and I guess my job is to make the most of this recovery so that I'm ready.
for the next sprint.
any time now.
bring it on.
I'm going to be completely ready.
let's go.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
led zeppelin
bruno mars just doesn't cut it.
led zeppelin does.
as does the who, AC/DC, maybe some david bowie.
something loud, bangy, heavy drums, angry music.
this is what works when you have to crank your heartrate up to zone 5.
power camp coach leslie--she of trivia and wearing her clothes inside out by mistake--tends to play music from the hard rock era, many songs I've never heard before, most of them songs I wouldn't choose to listen to if given the option.
yesterday, she played this assortment of songs that included pop, things my girls might listen to, bruno mars.
and then she asked us to work in zone 4.
admittedly, zone 4 is not as tough as zone 5, but it's still challenging, and bruno mars just wasn't cutting it.
I love music, I love what it does for my mood, my energy, my outlook. chris martin and coldplay do something magical for my creative zone, and jewel confirms my experiences on earth. the black eyed peas often make me want to dance, van morrison helps me clean my house. too many artists to name send me into melancholic, romantic, dreamy places, and the bare naked ladies always make me grin.
if you've paid attention, you know that my fantasy is to one day be a back-up singer for a band.
I love music.
and in the spin room, during a hard workout, I even like that hard rock type of stuff I would never, ever ordinarily listen to, because it somehow numbs my mind to the pain of the body.
I don't know how it works, but music plays with our brains in beautiful, surprising and gratifying ways, and life without music would be . . . well,
lonely, dry, flat, unfathomable.
and I would sing in my head, quietly, off tune, praying for something to kick in and get me through zone 5.
thank God for led zeppelin, the who, AC/DC, korn.
and van morrison, eva cassidy, matt kearney, coldplay, jewel, josh groban, the beatles, shawn colvin, brahms, debussy, tchaikovsky, saint saens . . .
led zeppelin does.
as does the who, AC/DC, maybe some david bowie.
something loud, bangy, heavy drums, angry music.
this is what works when you have to crank your heartrate up to zone 5.
power camp coach leslie--she of trivia and wearing her clothes inside out by mistake--tends to play music from the hard rock era, many songs I've never heard before, most of them songs I wouldn't choose to listen to if given the option.
yesterday, she played this assortment of songs that included pop, things my girls might listen to, bruno mars.
and then she asked us to work in zone 4.
admittedly, zone 4 is not as tough as zone 5, but it's still challenging, and bruno mars just wasn't cutting it.
I love music, I love what it does for my mood, my energy, my outlook. chris martin and coldplay do something magical for my creative zone, and jewel confirms my experiences on earth. the black eyed peas often make me want to dance, van morrison helps me clean my house. too many artists to name send me into melancholic, romantic, dreamy places, and the bare naked ladies always make me grin.
if you've paid attention, you know that my fantasy is to one day be a back-up singer for a band.
I love music.
and in the spin room, during a hard workout, I even like that hard rock type of stuff I would never, ever ordinarily listen to, because it somehow numbs my mind to the pain of the body.
I don't know how it works, but music plays with our brains in beautiful, surprising and gratifying ways, and life without music would be . . . well,
lonely, dry, flat, unfathomable.
and I would sing in my head, quietly, off tune, praying for something to kick in and get me through zone 5.
thank God for led zeppelin, the who, AC/DC, korn.
and van morrison, eva cassidy, matt kearney, coldplay, jewel, josh groban, the beatles, shawn colvin, brahms, debussy, tchaikovsky, saint saens . . .
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
laugh lines and quirks
today I held a headstand for just about my longest time ever, until I started thinking about how great I was doing.
then I lost my balance.
I touched my foot to the wall, then pulled back into balance, determined to focus on staying steady instead of congratulating myself for doing so well.
this worked better.
no matter how far we've come, how hard we've worked, how much we've learned, there is always more. always. at times I think I want to be done--be perfected, be enlightened, be at complete eternal peace--but then I remind myself of how boring that might be. (if not for me, certainly for everyone who knows me!)
complexity and imperfections are interesting: physical perfection is fleeting, mental milquetoast is boring, one who is completely predictable is, well, predictable. laugh lines and quirks are two of my favorite things in a person. I don't like to surround myself with people who always do what one might expect them to do.
some day I may be able to hold a headstand without wavering, for minutes at a time.
but there will always be other challenges, shortcomings, opportunities in my life.
I am destined to remain imperfect in this lifetime,
something I remind myself to be grateful for.
(and isn't this the perfect post for today: the year's quirky little day that proves the imperfection of our calendar? as one of my daughters said this morning: why do we need this day, anyway? it just makes my birthday one day further away.)
then I lost my balance.
I touched my foot to the wall, then pulled back into balance, determined to focus on staying steady instead of congratulating myself for doing so well.
this worked better.
no matter how far we've come, how hard we've worked, how much we've learned, there is always more. always. at times I think I want to be done--be perfected, be enlightened, be at complete eternal peace--but then I remind myself of how boring that might be. (if not for me, certainly for everyone who knows me!)
complexity and imperfections are interesting: physical perfection is fleeting, mental milquetoast is boring, one who is completely predictable is, well, predictable. laugh lines and quirks are two of my favorite things in a person. I don't like to surround myself with people who always do what one might expect them to do.
some day I may be able to hold a headstand without wavering, for minutes at a time.
but there will always be other challenges, shortcomings, opportunities in my life.
I am destined to remain imperfect in this lifetime,
something I remind myself to be grateful for.
(and isn't this the perfect post for today: the year's quirky little day that proves the imperfection of our calendar? as one of my daughters said this morning: why do we need this day, anyway? it just makes my birthday one day further away.)
Saturday, February 25, 2012
illusions of control
a storm is moving in and the wind has been wicked this morning. but it was warm (ish), and I wanted to get a ride in before the snow came. so I rode, was buffeted, and laughed through my ride on this (as pooh would say) very blustery day.
after returning home, I began reading a copy of a speech someone had given, and she referred to brian andreas' story people, quoting him, and I'm passing it along now because it's just perfect for the day (and life):
If you hold on to the handle, she said, it’s easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.
time for a personal story. (as if everything I share here isn't?)
I am working on writing a book. it's big and glorious and scary and heart-wrenching and powerful. it has impacted me in myriad ways both large and small, and it's absorbed everything I have to give to it.
I've been working on this since last september, and it's coming along beautifully.
writing and posting here during these past months has at times been easy, and at times, terribly difficult and frustrating. I don't want to just post drivel, yet I don't always have much to say (between the fact that I can't ride outside very often and my head/heart/emotions are caught up in this other project), and I'm still trying to honor my commitment to posting on odd days; these all combine to leave me floundering.
because I like structure, and I don't want to give up this exercise completely, I've been wracking my brain to come up with a new posting schedule that will give me a little release, and keep me from posting worthless paragraphs and boring you to tears.
yesterday, in the nice warm shower after an awesome (not too windy) bike ride, I came up with my new plan. in honor of my incredible friend ivy, it's a prime plan:
for the next segment of time (until I change to a different plan) I will be posting on prime number days only.
it's a compromise between cutting back to once or twice a week, and staying with where I am now. it will give me a few extra days off, and it's something I can remember without having to look at a calendar.
woo hoo!
thanks, ivy, my prime number friend. ( I'm glad the months stop at 31 days, because when I go too much higher I really have to do some work to figure out if a number is prime or not. 1-31 is pretty easy.)
so . . . if all goes according to plan, this is the last posting on the 25th of a month that you'll see for quite some time.
after returning home, I began reading a copy of a speech someone had given, and she referred to brian andreas' story people, quoting him, and I'm passing it along now because it's just perfect for the day (and life):
If you hold on to the handle, she said, it’s easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.
time for a personal story. (as if everything I share here isn't?)
I am working on writing a book. it's big and glorious and scary and heart-wrenching and powerful. it has impacted me in myriad ways both large and small, and it's absorbed everything I have to give to it.
I've been working on this since last september, and it's coming along beautifully.
writing and posting here during these past months has at times been easy, and at times, terribly difficult and frustrating. I don't want to just post drivel, yet I don't always have much to say (between the fact that I can't ride outside very often and my head/heart/emotions are caught up in this other project), and I'm still trying to honor my commitment to posting on odd days; these all combine to leave me floundering.
because I like structure, and I don't want to give up this exercise completely, I've been wracking my brain to come up with a new posting schedule that will give me a little release, and keep me from posting worthless paragraphs and boring you to tears.
yesterday, in the nice warm shower after an awesome (not too windy) bike ride, I came up with my new plan. in honor of my incredible friend ivy, it's a prime plan:
for the next segment of time (until I change to a different plan) I will be posting on prime number days only.
it's a compromise between cutting back to once or twice a week, and staying with where I am now. it will give me a few extra days off, and it's something I can remember without having to look at a calendar.
woo hoo!
thanks, ivy, my prime number friend. ( I'm glad the months stop at 31 days, because when I go too much higher I really have to do some work to figure out if a number is prime or not. 1-31 is pretty easy.)
so . . . if all goes according to plan, this is the last posting on the 25th of a month that you'll see for quite some time.
at least that's my plan. but seeing as I'm not really in charge, I might let go of the handle and see where the wind takes me . . .
and then I suppose I'll see you when I see you.
namaste.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
korkmaz git
life is not what I thought it would be. it's much more extreme.
it's louder, scarier, more brilliant, bigger, sunnier, brighter, cloudier. it's sadder, hotter, more gratifying, angrier, quieter, kinder, more violent, messier. it's excruciatingly painful, lopsided, vibrant, laconic, inexplicable, awesome, powerful, sweet, disarming, luminous, completely unpredictable, disheartening, humorous.
life is invigorating and exhausting: full of reasons to get up each morning, filled with reasons to collapse into bed at night and wish to never get out.
of everything life's presented me with, the most challenging for me has been overcoming fear. grief and loss are terribly difficult, but somehow I think fear is worse. they can all be debilitating, but with grief and loss I know that time--a great deal of time--and continuing to connect with joy will get me through them, eventually.
fear, on the other hand, demands action. time does nothing to dispel it, connecting with joy doesn't help, either. fear must be faced, acted upon, dealt with, or it will just keep hanging around, lying on your couch eating bon-bons, getting bigger and bigger.
I face little fears all the time, conquering them, squishing them under my boots. we all do. life is full of events, people, and situations that stir up little fears. they have to be faced. I don't like it, but I like the alternative even less.
so I've adopted this little saying, am tucking it under my arm and carrying it around with me: korkmaz git. translated from turkish, korkmaz git means he goes and is not afraid.*
I plan to keep going; I will not let me be afraid.
because life is too big, gorgeous, bountiful, vital, breathtaking, magical, stunning, astonishing, warm and ultimately, when you just keep going, gratifying.
korkmaz git.
I will if you will. well, actually, I will no matter what. join me.
*paulo coelho, aleph, 2011
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
happy pancake day
I love to learn new things. and as God and most all of you know, there are a billion or two things out there I don't know.
what I learned today, is that it's pancake day.
I learned this from lauren, our wee irish lass from Omagh who lived with us last july when one of my daughters participated in the ulster project.
from lauren's conversation with my daughter last night:
mm, pancake day, well, it's a day where everyone makes pancakes . . . oh, God, I can't believe you don't have it. that's so sad.
my daughter tells me about it, and I am compelled this morning to do a little googling to flesh out the story a bit. here's the scoop.
it's actually shrove tuesday today, the day before ash wednesday. for the catholic faith, ash wednesday is the beginning of lent, the season of fasting and preparation for the easter season.
and what catholic communities in many countries do on the day before lent begins is to eat pancakes, those treats made from sugar, flour, fat, eggs, all rich ingredients that are likely to be restricted during the lenten season.
methinks we might be having pancakes for dinner tonight at our house, in honor of our friends across the pond.
what I also discover is that the irish aren't the only ones who traditionally eat pancakes today: canadians, the english, australians, new zealanders, phillipinos and germans also observe this event.
all in all, pancake tuesday sounds like something you might do before a good wednesday ride.
since tomorrow shows a predicted high of 54 degrees and only a 20 percent chance of precipitation, I think I'll experiment with pancakes as a form of carbo-loading.
grin.
happy pancake day to you all!
what I learned today, is that it's pancake day.
I learned this from lauren, our wee irish lass from Omagh who lived with us last july when one of my daughters participated in the ulster project.
from lauren's conversation with my daughter last night:
mm, pancake day, well, it's a day where everyone makes pancakes . . . oh, God, I can't believe you don't have it. that's so sad.
my daughter tells me about it, and I am compelled this morning to do a little googling to flesh out the story a bit. here's the scoop.
it's actually shrove tuesday today, the day before ash wednesday. for the catholic faith, ash wednesday is the beginning of lent, the season of fasting and preparation for the easter season.
and what catholic communities in many countries do on the day before lent begins is to eat pancakes, those treats made from sugar, flour, fat, eggs, all rich ingredients that are likely to be restricted during the lenten season.
wikipedia tells us that the word shrove is the past tense of the english verb shrive, which means to obtain absolution for one's sins by way of confession and doing penance, thus "shrovetide" is the name for the week leading up to the beginning of lent.
methinks we might be having pancakes for dinner tonight at our house, in honor of our friends across the pond.
what I also discover is that the irish aren't the only ones who traditionally eat pancakes today: canadians, the english, australians, new zealanders, phillipinos and germans also observe this event.
all in all, pancake tuesday sounds like something you might do before a good wednesday ride.
since tomorrow shows a predicted high of 54 degrees and only a 20 percent chance of precipitation, I think I'll experiment with pancakes as a form of carbo-loading.
grin.
happy pancake day to you all!
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