A Letter to Colin (written before he was born)
Parenting as Art
by: Gordon Atkinson
you do your best
you do what seems right
in your gut
often maybe even mostly you dont know why you do what you do
and somehow in the delightful mix
of your sin
and your sorrow
and your joy
the two of you bringing your best and your worst to this
a unique and lovely human forms and comes into being
carrying your sins and your virtues
often magnified
and being broken and human and wonderful
like you
Dear Little One,
Daddy sent me this yesterday while I spent another day on bed rest with you. I love the words of this poem. And I have been thinking a lot lately not just about parenting as an art but about parenting as a calling. Your dad and I are broken and so very human…and together in our love for one another, we chose to bring another broken, human, and yet so wonderful being into this world. We are not perfect. You are not perfect. But you were made perfectly. And we were made perfectly. God made us perfectly. Our very humanness, though, takes the perfectly created creations that we are and renders us imperfect beings.
What I like about this poem is that it reminds me that our best and our worst are coming together to make something so wonderful. You are already so wonderful. A mixture of what makes us as your parents both wonderful and not so wonderful at the same time. The mix of sin, sorrow and joy is described as a “delightful mix.” It takes all of that to create an amazing life together. It isn’t all perfect. We make our mistakes. There are traits we wish we didn’t posses, actions we wish we had never taken, words we wish we had never spoken. All of these things are part of the delightful mix that is our life.
Parenting is a calling because it pushes us outside of our limits, our self-created boxes and walls, and asks us to give of ourselves in a way that is bigger and heavier and more grace-filled than anything else we could give our lives to. Before we got pregnant with you, I knew that being a mother was a calling for me…or at least I wanted it to be my calling. I knew it was a calling because while it delighted me in my innermost being, it also terrified me to the core. I knew it was not something I could do, or that we could do, without God’s help and blessing. The only way two imperfect people can take on the monumental task of parenting is to rely on God’s infinite wisdom.
Our commitment to you, little one, is to continue to follow this calling as we would with any other. This is not a task we take lightly. We cannot promise we will be perfect in this endeavor. But we will commit to calling on God’s support and wisdom…which will itself come in so many forms through friends and family and experiences…to raise you in the best possible home with a palpable love that you will never have to question.
5.08.2012
4.23.2011
.feet.
i HATE feet.
As a child with abnormally large feet (thank you, family genes), I was always super self-conscious about them. I still cringe remembering going to the bowling alley with my youth group, asking for a pair of size 9 shoes, and the attendant (who I am sure was no more than 16) saying, "Wow. Big feet." Ugh.
My feet aren't a model's feet. I can never buy "cute" shoes on sale because they never have my giant size left over. My toenail polish is always chipped, and I have huge callouses from running. I don't exactly like to flaunt them. And, frankly, the thought of a foot rub makes me want to gag.
My foot phobia made Thursday night even more humbling than expected. It was Maundy Thursday, and as I walked through the prayer stations our pastor had so lovingly and creatively set up around the sanctuary, I reflected on the life of Jesus, the ways in which his love is manifested in our every day world, the last meal he shared with his disciples from which the gift of communion was born.
Maundy Thursday is always a humbling time, a time to reflect, a time to remember. Every year as a part of these stations, the one I always skip is the foot washing station. I fear judgment and ridicule. I hate the feeling of someone else's hands actually touching what I find so ugly about myself.
But this year, I couldn't turn down the invitation. Walking in that night, I was perfectly content skipping right past the station with no plans whatsoever to sit down in front of our intern pastor and offer my feet up to be washed. But as I made me way through what I thought was my final station for the evening, I saw our intern pastor sitting in front of the giant bowl of water, towels and pitchers surrounding her, head bowed as she read the Bible. This picture touched me. And I wanted to take part in the spirit of what was happening over there.
I walked over, sat down, looked her in the eye and said, "If you promise not to judge my feet, I'll let you wash them."
Teri's eyes smiled as she reached over to hug me. She grabbed a towel, I lifted my naked foot into her hand (my hear pounding the entire time), and she began to pour water over one of my biggest insecurities, and tell me wonderful things about this body part that fills me with so much anxiety.
She told me that my feet were beautiful feet, that God loves these feet and made them beautiful, and made me beautiful, and blessed every path these feet touched. She reminded me of where these feet have been (offices and schools and churches and streets and homes). She told me that these feet had been to holy places.
As I listened to her talk, feeling the warmth of the towel cradling and drying my holy feet, I realized that these feet are a gift. No, I still don't think they're very pretty. And, no, I will still never let my husband give me a foot rub at the end of the day. But these feet are holy feet. They are a gift. They equip me. They allow me to move forward--physically and spiritually.
Foot washing in Jesus' day was a dirty task. Sandels and bare feet on dusty roads meant that feet were literally in need of a wash, a bath. It wasn't just symbolic. Physical dirt was removed in this process. And Jesus (God) humbled himself, put himself below that of his disciples (physically and spiritually) on that first Maundy Thursday night to take their dirt-caked feet in his hands and wash them.
This was a humbling experience for me as a recipient of such a gift. I had to lay aside my fears of judgment in order to do this. And it reminded me that my feet are beautiful, that they are a gift, that they do walk in holy places.
Foot washing is a part of the service experience of Samaritan's Feet, a wonderful organization providing shoes to impoverished children. Shoes. How many pairs are in my closet and yet there are children who long to have just one pair--a pair that fits, a pair that will protect them as they walk to school or do their chores. When volunteers from Samaritan's Feet deliver the shoes to these children, they wash their feet. They humble themselves and caress the dirty, calloused feet of this sweet children as a gift, a reminder that they, too, have beautiful feet, worthy feet, holy feet.
So, remember your feet today. Cherish them. Be reminded that they are holy feet, no matter where they might take you.
4.16.2011
new year, new...
I do believe this is my first blog post this year. It's my first post in at least 6 months. I almost forgot it even existed until I was reading another friend's blog (who herself had not written in awhile) and was reminded that I eagerly hopped on the Blogger bandwagon some time ago and had left it in an utter state of stagnation. It almost seemed pointless to write again...nearly embarrassing to have the audacity to post after such an unexplained absence. I mean, there's a lot of pressure for this post to be really, really good. I mean, what if no one has noticed or even cared that this blog has gone into hibernation? What if my readership of one actually gets excited to see a new post after several months only to be met with disappointment that all insight I ever had is gone?
To take the pressure off, just a little, I decided to ease back into bloggerdom with a post on my resolve to revive this blog again--and why even after a 6 month hiatus, I still think it's worth it. Here goes...
I hate New Year's resolutions. I've made them in the past and never kept them for longer than a month. They seem arbitrary to me. I get the concept--new year, new you kind of thing, I suppose. I just see the New Year's resolution as an excuse. We make them. We break them almost as quickly as we made them. September rolls around, we examine where we are in life with our health, weight, career, family, {insert whatever here} and we think, "No, it's not where I'd like it to be...that will have to be my new year's resolution this year" and continue to keep doing whatever we want to stop doing (or don't do whatever we want to start doing) until January rolls around. We attempt the resolution, realize it's too much, fall off the wagon once, and throw our hands in the air thinking, "Well, at least I tried." And thus the cycle begins again.
OK-maybe it's not like that for everyone, but for me it is. I find that if I can't get it perfectly right the first time, then I'm just done. I tried, it didn't work, so I'm going to chalk it up to failure and move on to something else.
This new year, though, I'm trying to approach these mishaps, failures and tries in a different light. Take this blog, for instance. As my husband just so appropriately reminded me, "You haven't written on your blog for like 6 months." Yes, dear, I know. But I can start again. It doesn't have to be all or nothing.
One the greatest ways I am learning this concept this year is through teaching my first college class...well, teaching my first class period. I came in raring to go. I was giddy with excitement at the end of my first day. This was going to be an amazing semester! I found my classroom without any glitches. I didn't stumble over my perfectly prepared lesson plan. My students were participating on day one. They seemed eager. They seemed to like me. I couldn't wait for class #2.
And then came class #2. The "first day" goggles were off, and suddenly I realized I was standing in front of a group of students looking to me for the answers. I was the "expert" in the classroom. I was handing out their grades. I was giving them the information that would be the foundation of some of their career paths. That was a lot of pressure!
Sometimes they had questions that I couldn't answer.
And sometimes time ran out before I could finish my carefully planned lesson.
And sometimes that carefully planned lesson just didn't go like I expected it to.
And one time an ice storm cancelled class entirely...and while my students were no doubt thrilled, I was just a little bit heartbroken.
All of my lessons have not gone as planned. Sometimes I pose questions, and my students just stare at me like I have two heads. And sometimes I fumble over a statistic or get so distracted by an unexpected question that it takes me a very visible moment to get back on track with where I want to be headed next.
This semester has not gone perfectly. But each week has challenged me in a new way. My students have challenged me. They haven't always felt their grades were fair. As a people pleaser, I have had to take this all on stride and not let it get to me.
As I look towards the last 2 weeks of the semester, instead of focusing on all that hasn't gone well, I'm focusing on what I've learned, the improvements I can make for next year, and the fact that I am actually doing something I have wanted to do for a long time.
I'm focusing on how, as a professor, I was able to ease the mind of a typically well-prepared student who told me she just found out her brother had stage 4 cancer. I'm remembering the day one student's reading response grade jumped 20 percentage points because her writing had significantly improved. I'm focusing on the day that I sat among my students (rather than standing at the front of the room) and we talked about what "home" meant to each of them...
This is a huge step for me--a step in the direction of not always worrying about being perfect or being "the best" and learning how to love the journey. Perhaps that has been my unspoken New Year's resolution...a new attitude. A new perspective. A new way of...life.
To take the pressure off, just a little, I decided to ease back into bloggerdom with a post on my resolve to revive this blog again--and why even after a 6 month hiatus, I still think it's worth it. Here goes...
I hate New Year's resolutions. I've made them in the past and never kept them for longer than a month. They seem arbitrary to me. I get the concept--new year, new you kind of thing, I suppose. I just see the New Year's resolution as an excuse. We make them. We break them almost as quickly as we made them. September rolls around, we examine where we are in life with our health, weight, career, family, {insert whatever here} and we think, "No, it's not where I'd like it to be...that will have to be my new year's resolution this year" and continue to keep doing whatever we want to stop doing (or don't do whatever we want to start doing) until January rolls around. We attempt the resolution, realize it's too much, fall off the wagon once, and throw our hands in the air thinking, "Well, at least I tried." And thus the cycle begins again.
OK-maybe it's not like that for everyone, but for me it is. I find that if I can't get it perfectly right the first time, then I'm just done. I tried, it didn't work, so I'm going to chalk it up to failure and move on to something else.
This new year, though, I'm trying to approach these mishaps, failures and tries in a different light. Take this blog, for instance. As my husband just so appropriately reminded me, "You haven't written on your blog for like 6 months." Yes, dear, I know. But I can start again. It doesn't have to be all or nothing.
One the greatest ways I am learning this concept this year is through teaching my first college class...well, teaching my first class period. I came in raring to go. I was giddy with excitement at the end of my first day. This was going to be an amazing semester! I found my classroom without any glitches. I didn't stumble over my perfectly prepared lesson plan. My students were participating on day one. They seemed eager. They seemed to like me. I couldn't wait for class #2.
And then came class #2. The "first day" goggles were off, and suddenly I realized I was standing in front of a group of students looking to me for the answers. I was the "expert" in the classroom. I was handing out their grades. I was giving them the information that would be the foundation of some of their career paths. That was a lot of pressure!
Sometimes they had questions that I couldn't answer.
And sometimes time ran out before I could finish my carefully planned lesson.
And sometimes that carefully planned lesson just didn't go like I expected it to.
And one time an ice storm cancelled class entirely...and while my students were no doubt thrilled, I was just a little bit heartbroken.
All of my lessons have not gone as planned. Sometimes I pose questions, and my students just stare at me like I have two heads. And sometimes I fumble over a statistic or get so distracted by an unexpected question that it takes me a very visible moment to get back on track with where I want to be headed next.
This semester has not gone perfectly. But each week has challenged me in a new way. My students have challenged me. They haven't always felt their grades were fair. As a people pleaser, I have had to take this all on stride and not let it get to me.
As I look towards the last 2 weeks of the semester, instead of focusing on all that hasn't gone well, I'm focusing on what I've learned, the improvements I can make for next year, and the fact that I am actually doing something I have wanted to do for a long time.
I'm focusing on how, as a professor, I was able to ease the mind of a typically well-prepared student who told me she just found out her brother had stage 4 cancer. I'm remembering the day one student's reading response grade jumped 20 percentage points because her writing had significantly improved. I'm focusing on the day that I sat among my students (rather than standing at the front of the room) and we talked about what "home" meant to each of them...
This is a huge step for me--a step in the direction of not always worrying about being perfect or being "the best" and learning how to love the journey. Perhaps that has been my unspoken New Year's resolution...a new attitude. A new perspective. A new way of...life.
10.09.2010
community.and.contentment
So a friend recently started a new blog and it reminded me that I needed to update this one :) I started this blog as a way to outwardly process the internal thoughts that come to me on my training runs. It's been great so far--unfortunately, for a variety of reasons, my next big race isn't until next Spring...and I haven't been running nearly as much. I mean, I run each week--but I also spend time spinning, pilates-ing, and have a new affinity for the gym's rowing machine. As I told her, running makes for a much more interesting blog post than any of these things!
So, I've decided that while the title of this blog is what it is, it doesn't just have to be about running. It can, in fact, be about a variety of of things as I live my life as a young professional constantly moving from commitment to commitment all the while juggling the 9-5, husband, friends, gym, etc.
In fact, this is what I have been dealing with the most lately--"running" in the figurative sense. This quote has spoken to me amidst all the running: "Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you." ~Lao Tzu
Sometimes, I think all the juggling and the running around is my way of constantly wanting to have more, be more, do more. As a friend and I were discussing today--our society teaches us that "go go go" is what makes you important, gives you significance, makes you stand out in the crowd. Taking a day just for yourself, to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee, pajama-clad, catching up on the latest TV show you haven't had time to watch in real time (because of all the go go go aforementioned) is frowned upon. You feel horribly guilty and find yourself adding more to the calendar that next week to somehow make up for it.
And sometimes that me time comes in the form of going out--just for fun. Hanging out with friends, grabbing dinner, drinks, a movie. It can be a stroll through the bookstore, a round of golf, a hike in the woods--activities that have no other purpose than to just be fun.
Today was a day for others, but it was also a day for me. I volunteered with a large group of others at a day of service, and I ended the afternoon reminded of how much getting together with like-minded people who may have nothing more in common than a desire to serve is an amazing thing. It's amazing because I began the day knowing a handful of people and ended it knowing a handful (plus!) more--and what brought us together was a desire to make an impact--TOGETHER.
Our service project really got me thinking. We worked to beautify a community garden in a neighborhood where the neighborhood association is very active and residents regularly invest time in this garden together. The houses built here are on such small lots that several plots of undeveloped land in the neighborhood were transformed into this community space for everyone to share. Heading to lunch with everyone after our project was done, a friend and I began discussing the beauty of community and the community garden concept and how it seemed like such a non-suburban idea.
I mean, I'm not knocking suburbia--I live there. And I love where I live. I really do. But I am keenly aware where I live that this sense of community is so very different. We seem to stick to ourselves, building and earning so that we can get more, be more, have more "stuff." I wonder if that is what drives me to constantly be "on the run" from commitment to commitment without stopping to really think about what I am committing to--like I am in this unspoken competition with myself and the world around me.
So, lately, I am evaluating who I am and what I do--really yearning to make commitments that have meaning, that I can commitment myself wholly to (and not just because I have a hard time saying no). I want to find contentment in just being--in being me and nothing more. I want to find contentment in doing things that help others while also being passionate about those things--again, not just doing them because they fall into the "should" category. That seems to be where true contentment lies--in doing things to experience them, not just because society dictates that they beef up our "life" resume.
And I really feel that community affords us this opportunity--because community brings us beyond ourselves to work together, be together, earn together, live, laugh and love...together.
So, I've decided that while the title of this blog is what it is, it doesn't just have to be about running. It can, in fact, be about a variety of of things as I live my life as a young professional constantly moving from commitment to commitment all the while juggling the 9-5, husband, friends, gym, etc.
In fact, this is what I have been dealing with the most lately--"running" in the figurative sense. This quote has spoken to me amidst all the running: "Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you." ~Lao Tzu
Sometimes, I think all the juggling and the running around is my way of constantly wanting to have more, be more, do more. As a friend and I were discussing today--our society teaches us that "go go go" is what makes you important, gives you significance, makes you stand out in the crowd. Taking a day just for yourself, to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee, pajama-clad, catching up on the latest TV show you haven't had time to watch in real time (because of all the go go go aforementioned) is frowned upon. You feel horribly guilty and find yourself adding more to the calendar that next week to somehow make up for it.
And sometimes that me time comes in the form of going out--just for fun. Hanging out with friends, grabbing dinner, drinks, a movie. It can be a stroll through the bookstore, a round of golf, a hike in the woods--activities that have no other purpose than to just be fun.
Today was a day for others, but it was also a day for me. I volunteered with a large group of others at a day of service, and I ended the afternoon reminded of how much getting together with like-minded people who may have nothing more in common than a desire to serve is an amazing thing. It's amazing because I began the day knowing a handful of people and ended it knowing a handful (plus!) more--and what brought us together was a desire to make an impact--TOGETHER.
Our service project really got me thinking. We worked to beautify a community garden in a neighborhood where the neighborhood association is very active and residents regularly invest time in this garden together. The houses built here are on such small lots that several plots of undeveloped land in the neighborhood were transformed into this community space for everyone to share. Heading to lunch with everyone after our project was done, a friend and I began discussing the beauty of community and the community garden concept and how it seemed like such a non-suburban idea.
I mean, I'm not knocking suburbia--I live there. And I love where I live. I really do. But I am keenly aware where I live that this sense of community is so very different. We seem to stick to ourselves, building and earning so that we can get more, be more, have more "stuff." I wonder if that is what drives me to constantly be "on the run" from commitment to commitment without stopping to really think about what I am committing to--like I am in this unspoken competition with myself and the world around me.
So, lately, I am evaluating who I am and what I do--really yearning to make commitments that have meaning, that I can commitment myself wholly to (and not just because I have a hard time saying no). I want to find contentment in just being--in being me and nothing more. I want to find contentment in doing things that help others while also being passionate about those things--again, not just doing them because they fall into the "should" category. That seems to be where true contentment lies--in doing things to experience them, not just because society dictates that they beef up our "life" resume.
And I really feel that community affords us this opportunity--because community brings us beyond ourselves to work together, be together, earn together, live, laugh and love...together.
9.18.2010
i'm.working.on.it
Ah... I am an INFJ to a tee. I embrace my INFJ-ness. An introvert. An intuitive. A feeler. A judger (blah, hate that word! It doesn't mean what it seems--it means I'm a planner...I love a good schedule :)). Oh, and if you have no idea what I am talking about, INFJ is my Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. If you have never taken this test, it's fun and a great way to learn a little more about yourself. Check out more information here: http://www.myersbriggs.org/my-mbti-personality-type/.
I love learning these kinds of things about myself, about my tendencies, about why I do the things I do. Friday was the second time I have taken this inventory, and I am always surprised by one letter in this combo--the letter F. It means I am Feeler (versus Thinker) and yet...some days I feel like I can never turn my brain off--I can never stop thinking!
Yes, while I tend to make decisions with my "heart leading my head," I am still very much a THINKER as well. I think, I analyze, I look at situations from every darn angle until I make my head hurt. Molly Barker's recent Girls on the Run blog talks about how much we think and how all that thinking can hinder us from just "being" who we truly are...and embracing our true beauty and "magnificence." Instead of paraphrasing her amazing words, I'll just let you read it here.
Even though I whole heartedly believe in the mission of Girls on the Run (to educate and prepare girls for lifetimes of self-respect and healthy living) and I can wax poetically about how we are bringing this great organization to Hamilton County because we want every girl to know what it's like to live OUTSIDE of the girl box (that suffocating place where girls are valued more for their outward appearances than who they are inside)--I STILL struggle from time to time with girl box issues. I STILL belittle myself when I look in the mirror some mornings(though I am less inclined to do this when I have just finished a long run or pilates class--exercise really does have power over our brains!) and I STILL compare my body with that of the other women in my group fitness classes.
Ugh. Darn thinking.
This is why I also love Operation Beautiful...and if you get nothing more from this post, I hope that this website at least makes it into your favorites: OperationBeautiful.com. Operation Beautiful seeks to "end negative self-talk or “Fat Talk.” If this little blog only does one productive thing, I hope it helps readers realize how truly toxic negative self-talk is — it hurts you emotionally, spiritually, and physically."
Women like Caitlin(Operation Beautiful)and Molly inspire me. They help me, at 29 years old, continue to work on how I think about myself. And how I, in turn, think about and treat others. I am working on how I think--the words I use when I see myself in the mirror or stand next to a woman whose body fits that day's definition of beauty to me. I am working on not regretting eating a pumpkin donut for breakfast rather than oatmeal (hey, it's Saturday!!). I am working on glancing in the mirror and not finding a single thing to stress over that day. I am working on feeling just as beautiful in a t-shirt and sneakers as I do in a skirt and heels. I am working on not feeling the need to hop on the scale every time I go to the gym.
I am working on just being, living, and loving without THINKING so much.
The ironic thing about running is that it gives me more time to think (ha!). But as I run, I often find clarity in my thoughts, and my thoughts are usually more positive and empowering.
Running is my operation beautiful. When I am in the groove of a great run, I feel strong, I feel beautiful, I feel worthy of love.
What gives you clarity when all of the crazy thoughts of the day start attacking? What is your operation beautiful?
I love learning these kinds of things about myself, about my tendencies, about why I do the things I do. Friday was the second time I have taken this inventory, and I am always surprised by one letter in this combo--the letter F. It means I am Feeler (versus Thinker) and yet...some days I feel like I can never turn my brain off--I can never stop thinking!
Yes, while I tend to make decisions with my "heart leading my head," I am still very much a THINKER as well. I think, I analyze, I look at situations from every darn angle until I make my head hurt. Molly Barker's recent Girls on the Run blog talks about how much we think and how all that thinking can hinder us from just "being" who we truly are...and embracing our true beauty and "magnificence." Instead of paraphrasing her amazing words, I'll just let you read it here.
Even though I whole heartedly believe in the mission of Girls on the Run (to educate and prepare girls for lifetimes of self-respect and healthy living) and I can wax poetically about how we are bringing this great organization to Hamilton County because we want every girl to know what it's like to live OUTSIDE of the girl box (that suffocating place where girls are valued more for their outward appearances than who they are inside)--I STILL struggle from time to time with girl box issues. I STILL belittle myself when I look in the mirror some mornings(though I am less inclined to do this when I have just finished a long run or pilates class--exercise really does have power over our brains!) and I STILL compare my body with that of the other women in my group fitness classes.
Ugh. Darn thinking.
This is why I also love Operation Beautiful...and if you get nothing more from this post, I hope that this website at least makes it into your favorites: OperationBeautiful.com. Operation Beautiful seeks to "end negative self-talk or “Fat Talk.” If this little blog only does one productive thing, I hope it helps readers realize how truly toxic negative self-talk is — it hurts you emotionally, spiritually, and physically."
Women like Caitlin(Operation Beautiful)and Molly inspire me. They help me, at 29 years old, continue to work on how I think about myself. And how I, in turn, think about and treat others. I am working on how I think--the words I use when I see myself in the mirror or stand next to a woman whose body fits that day's definition of beauty to me. I am working on not regretting eating a pumpkin donut for breakfast rather than oatmeal (hey, it's Saturday!!). I am working on glancing in the mirror and not finding a single thing to stress over that day. I am working on feeling just as beautiful in a t-shirt and sneakers as I do in a skirt and heels. I am working on not feeling the need to hop on the scale every time I go to the gym.
I am working on just being, living, and loving without THINKING so much.
The ironic thing about running is that it gives me more time to think (ha!). But as I run, I often find clarity in my thoughts, and my thoughts are usually more positive and empowering.
Running is my operation beautiful. When I am in the groove of a great run, I feel strong, I feel beautiful, I feel worthy of love.
What gives you clarity when all of the crazy thoughts of the day start attacking? What is your operation beautiful?
8.28.2010
i.did.it
I did it.
I just ran my first triathlon.
Now, I am prone to second guessing myself after races. What if I hadn't gone out so fast on the swim? What if my goggles hadn't fogged up? What if I had been better prepared for the hills?
What if...
But all the "what ifs" only discount the "actually happeneds." What actually happened is that I competed in my first every multi-sport event. What happened is for the first time I swam 500 meters without stopping. What happened is I biked 10 miles with a purpose. What happened is that even when I felt like walking, I kept running. What happened is that I finished...and I actually feel great.
The morning was full of anxiety and lots of energy and excitement. As an all women event, it was awesome to be among so many motivated women--and to see so many shapes and sizes out there competing not against one another (well, some were), but against (and for) their very selves. So many women feeling strong enough and confident enough to wear swimsuits in front of one another with no makeup and not caring how their hair looked bulging under their swim caps--that's an amazing and inspiring picture.
I love events like this not just for the sport but for the energy and spirit of it all. This is why I run. This is why I bike. This is why I swim. There's a journey in all of this--these sports aren't just a way to stay in shape or earn a finisher's medal--they're a way to connect, to feel empowered, to build confidence, to feel strong. In a world where so many mixed messages about what it means to be strong and beautiful bombard us, especially women and girls, it's events like these that remind me that those messages are only as potent as we allow them to be.
I did it. I swam. I biked. I ran.
And now... I'm ready for some chocolate chip pancakes... :)
I just ran my first triathlon.
Now, I am prone to second guessing myself after races. What if I hadn't gone out so fast on the swim? What if my goggles hadn't fogged up? What if I had been better prepared for the hills?
What if...
But all the "what ifs" only discount the "actually happeneds." What actually happened is that I competed in my first every multi-sport event. What happened is for the first time I swam 500 meters without stopping. What happened is I biked 10 miles with a purpose. What happened is that even when I felt like walking, I kept running. What happened is that I finished...and I actually feel great.
The morning was full of anxiety and lots of energy and excitement. As an all women event, it was awesome to be among so many motivated women--and to see so many shapes and sizes out there competing not against one another (well, some were), but against (and for) their very selves. So many women feeling strong enough and confident enough to wear swimsuits in front of one another with no makeup and not caring how their hair looked bulging under their swim caps--that's an amazing and inspiring picture.
I love events like this not just for the sport but for the energy and spirit of it all. This is why I run. This is why I bike. This is why I swim. There's a journey in all of this--these sports aren't just a way to stay in shape or earn a finisher's medal--they're a way to connect, to feel empowered, to build confidence, to feel strong. In a world where so many mixed messages about what it means to be strong and beautiful bombard us, especially women and girls, it's events like these that remind me that those messages are only as potent as we allow them to be.
I did it. I swam. I biked. I ran.
And now... I'm ready for some chocolate chip pancakes... :)
8.26.2010
.restless.
My first ever sprint triathlon is the day after tomorrow...and I am already thinking about what I want to train for next. Isn't that crazy? I mean, I should be thinking about the triathlon itself, wondering about the blue green algae level in the water or what I'll do if my bike breaks down or if I do something really stupid like forget my running shoes. But no, I'm not thinking about that. Well, I am...a little. But mostly I'm thinking about what comes next. Will it be another tri? Maybe a 5K or 10K. Maybe another half marathon. (No,still not thinking full marathon quite yet!).
This way of thinking is nothing new for me. In fact, this sense of "restlessness" as I call it, is a very real way of life for me. It seems just when those "moments" in life come (you know, the ones you are supposed to cherish?), I can't help but starting thinking about what's next. It's like I'm afraid that if I don't think about what's next, I'm going to miss it, or not be ready for it.
These last few months I have woken up at the crack of dawn to hit the pool or spinning class or the pavement for a run, and I am almost sad the tri is Saturday because I am already missing my training schedule. It was my routine. And now my routine is going to change. And that scares me.
So, suffice it to say, I feel anything but fearless right now. Yet, at the same time, I feel empowered. I feel excited. I know that I have put in the time and effort in my training and it will pay off. I know that Saturday will be filled with nerves and excitement and an emotional high that will last beyond that afternoon. I'm trying to focus on that right now--the end goal of all of this. Yet at the same time, my feelings right now remind me that this is what life is about--not just the goals, but the journeys that get us to them.
There are always new goals to set, new races to run, new scenery to enjoy. As my boss said this morning during a brainstorming meeting--"You can't learn something you already know." So...to keep learning, I have to shake up that oh so familiar routine. I have to choose a new race, find a new challenge, set a new PR. I have to take what I've learned in this amazing training process and apply it to something new, expand on it, and set a new goal. At the same time, though, I can't let that thinking take away from being "in the moment." I don't want to miss the spirit of this stop along the journey. What a shame that would be.
So for Saturday, my motto is going to be "just breathe." Just breathe and take it all in. I know it's going to be amazing.
This way of thinking is nothing new for me. In fact, this sense of "restlessness" as I call it, is a very real way of life for me. It seems just when those "moments" in life come (you know, the ones you are supposed to cherish?), I can't help but starting thinking about what's next. It's like I'm afraid that if I don't think about what's next, I'm going to miss it, or not be ready for it.
These last few months I have woken up at the crack of dawn to hit the pool or spinning class or the pavement for a run, and I am almost sad the tri is Saturday because I am already missing my training schedule. It was my routine. And now my routine is going to change. And that scares me.
So, suffice it to say, I feel anything but fearless right now. Yet, at the same time, I feel empowered. I feel excited. I know that I have put in the time and effort in my training and it will pay off. I know that Saturday will be filled with nerves and excitement and an emotional high that will last beyond that afternoon. I'm trying to focus on that right now--the end goal of all of this. Yet at the same time, my feelings right now remind me that this is what life is about--not just the goals, but the journeys that get us to them.
There are always new goals to set, new races to run, new scenery to enjoy. As my boss said this morning during a brainstorming meeting--"You can't learn something you already know." So...to keep learning, I have to shake up that oh so familiar routine. I have to choose a new race, find a new challenge, set a new PR. I have to take what I've learned in this amazing training process and apply it to something new, expand on it, and set a new goal. At the same time, though, I can't let that thinking take away from being "in the moment." I don't want to miss the spirit of this stop along the journey. What a shame that would be.
So for Saturday, my motto is going to be "just breathe." Just breathe and take it all in. I know it's going to be amazing.
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