I haven't been writing much lately. Not here, and not as much in my daily practice either. But boy, do I write a lot in my head when I'm walking round and round the track at the gym.
Several friends have asked why I'm not blogging about my training for the mara, and I think it's a combo of things. One was that I had an extended holiday from work from December 24 through January 5th, and though I'm usually a daily writer, I was thrown completely off my routine, and the writing practice suffered (blogging is an offshoot of that practice/routine).
But the other reason - and the bigger reason, really - is because I don't know if I can
actually articulate what I'd like to about the experience, and I think I'll sound
stupid or silly or something if I try. Because this mara - and the decision, and the training, and all that's happening around it - has been a wildly profound experience for me, and it's hard to write about such a process as it's happening.
When I think back on my decision to do this (in october; not that long ago ...) it was made in some mix of desire to do something to raise money for pancreatic cancer research, to honor my mom, to set an audacious fitness goal for myself, and to keep up the whole fitness/improved health track that I've been on for about a year.
I never expected it to be the sort of grounding force that it's been for me.
It blows my mind that I've raised over 6,000 dollars for pancreatic cancer research; it blows my mind that I walk an average of 20 miles a week now; it blows my mind that I know what my ideal training heart rate is; it blows my mind that I chose to do something to try to make a difference and wound up - just by showing up and saying: hey, this matters and I want to call attention to it by making this crazy physical gesture - raising more money than I could have imagined and really feeling like I am making a difference.
No little thing, this stuff.
And at the same time, I think about some of the things my mother and I had in common - one of them was a bawdy sense of humor, one was an easy way with people, and one of them was shame. In spite of some outward signs of success and independence we both had, we both had a huge sense of shame around a weakness we shared - hers manifested in an inability to quit smoking (she tried countless times, and for a woman with a will of steel, there was no will powerful enough to fight the cigarette demon), and me? ... my weakness has been around my weight. From the time I was in my late teens, I've fought the yo-yo battle. Up 10, down 5. Up 20, down 10. Up 30, down 20, up 20 down 10, up 25, down 5, up 10, down 15 ... for over 30 years now.
But somehow, galvanized by this desire to help with the disease that killed my mother, I'm locking in a new way of being. And I'm doing what she was never able to do: I'm changing a destructive pattern and finding an inner strength I didn't know I had, and a surprising love of a physical discipline. And I'm sure I'm doing it with her help. In this effort to be an instrument to
make a difference, I feel her with me - sometimes I can hear her in my
head: Keep going Baboo, you can do it, as I go around and around the track.
I'm still not able to run for an extended stretch
without sucking wind and getting up and out of the target heart rate
zone, but a year ago, this wasn't even something I would have thought
possible. And now I walk 10 miles in two and a half hours,
no sweat. When I first signed up for this thing I had no idea how I
was going to do it. Really, no idea. I was starting to work out some, and
I'd lost close to 30 pounds in the previous year, but I was by no means
in good physical shape. And now, I'm still not in stellar shape, but in just 3 months, I'm on my way, and confident
that I'm going to cross that finish line in the neighborhood of 3 hours
- give or take.
I knew when I signed up for this thing that crossing the finish line in Miami would just be gravy, but I really had no idea what I was in for. I'm so glad I did it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And for those of you who have written (as blog comments or emails) to say hey and wish me luck and cheer me on and/or donate, I really can't thank you enough (and i encourage you to keep on; i love it). A few weeks ago, I was looking over the list of names of people who have donated, and I just felt my heart expand with gratitude, and I decided they're all coming along: I've made up a list with all of their names on it that I'll carry in my running belt on the 25th.
And for those who still want to, there's time to get on the list and help me make a difference; ANY amount is welcome. (our soon-to-be sworn in president obama sure understood that a lot of little donations add up to a lot of money to make a difference!)
And not only is the donation tax deductible and you'll feel really good about it for its own reason, but I'm also offering a contest to those who donate during the home stretch.
I don't know how I would have made it through the training without the fabulous, inspirational, and get-up-an-boogy tunes I've put together on my iPod; the songs just keep me kicking ... they make me feel like I can keep walking when - 'specially during the first couple of miles I'm thinking: This is so boring, let's just do one more spin around the track and then go home - so I'm going to give away a copy of my ultimate mara movement playlist. Donate here - any amount - and I'll do a drawing the week after I get home from the mara. Winner gets a CD of the playlist. Guaranteed to get you to shake your groove thing. And who knows, maybe you'll be inspired to some profound movement too.