Hi! This is July and usually, I hate to say, I’m sort of in the Summer doldrums by now. My lovely humid hometown makes it easy to leave you feeling dirty and gritty in July and August. But not this year. And what a magical thing that has turned out to be! I say that because, as an Atlanta native, this is the first year that I’ve decided to run the Peachtree Road Race. It is the world’s largest 10K (or at least billed to be) and is a major event every year. Typically, I’ve equated running the Peachtree with being as dumb as a lump on a log — because who runs in 98+ degree with 80+ humidity and NO RAIN? Well, about 60,000 do, that’s who. And this year, I was one of the idiots.
Except I wasn’t. The weather was its mildest ever for the race. They had the fewest numbers of heat related incidents. It was remarkable. Mother nature smiled on me and I was able to finish the race in spite of the past few months of aging body problems (you know, feet, back, the like). Sure, it was a run and walk event for me, but I did it and am super happy that I participated in an Atlanta institution. Even happier that I didn’t have to be walked to Piedmont Hospital during the event.
And for more magic, today I did something that I completely wouldn’t have expected to do (well, my 12 year old self would have). I woke up at 5 a.m. and went to a yin yoga class that started at 6. It was in a hot yoga room which I was not expecting. So two of my resistances were dismissed in one morning. Getting out of my comfort zone (and comfortable bed) was definitely worth it this morning. I feel like electricity and lightening bugs. It’s a great way to start the day and I may be a believer.
Send out good vibes to the universe. I know a lot of people that could use the extra lightness right now.
Well, well, well. What do they say about the best made plans? Right. So, about Mid-July, I was having a fairly good time of it while running and boom! Bursitis. Anyway, for those of you that have had it, you’ll understand that my imminent 5K plans were post-poned. However, I’m back in the saddle (or hitting the pavement) and am finding that balance of pushing myself and being realistically gentle. Eventually, mind and body will be in harmony. I look forward to that moment. I did sign up for another 5k that is at the end of September and this one promotes literacy — so really, that’s more my cup of tea anyway.
And, I’ve been insanely busy. Probably will continue to be insanely busy. However, I spent a gorgeous Labor Day weekend with friends. Some of these friends even reminded me that I need to be writing. So once again, here I am and at least trying to give you some words now.
If I were a good and true blogger, I’d relay the downward spiral that took hold of me when I was forced (after only just getting acquainted with my physical self) to be stagnant. Mentally, it was exhausting to try to tread those pitfalls.
Oh, and since everything is ultimately about words and what we do with them, I did go to the Decatur Book Fest this weekend and found a copy of Murakami’s book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I’m curious and looking forward to see how one of my favorite all time authors sees the mind body connection. Maybe I’ll learn something from it? Will keep you posted.
In the meantime, here’s hoping for cooler climes to do outdoor things. Whether it’s running, strolling, swimming, lounging on a hammock or just smelling the shift of season — enjoy it! Soon soon fall.
Weather: August and sticky — normal for this time of year.
Work: busy and noisy — also normal for this time of year.
Personal: quiet with showers of socialization.
Life: exceptionally good — for reasons I still can’t figure out.
Sorry it’s such spotty posts. I do know there are some of you out there still. I want to inspire and create and enrage — but all I can do is be what I’m right now and that is comfortable, happy, sort of empty and thoroughly overwhelmed with work, play, Braves, August, friends and family.
My dad wrote a poem though. I keep re-reading it. Not sure what to say about it. It’s different for him. On a personal level it brought up a ton of memories from childhood–mainly good ones. You know the type I mean. The ones that sort live in a golden bubble — yet they still have the honest red clay and ants on brick walls. Something like that. Anyway, what can I say — at least someone is writing in my family and it’s good.
I’ll get there though. The competitive streak in me will not let dad win.
On the drive up to Mentone to celebrate my dad’s 69th birthday, cherry and pear blossoms were blowing across my windshield. All the new green slowly spread up the hills and naturally, again, I had the thought that I live in the most beautiful region in the world. I do.
And, once again, upon entering my parent’s new digs, I had the thought “they are crazy”. I mean that in the best way possible. But mom is cooking on a hot plate, their shower is smaller than mom’s former refrigerator, etc. Still, they look remarkably happy and dad has another project and mom is on the mountain and, well, let’s face it — that’s their bliss and it’s beautiful. Makes the rest of us look like lackluster lumps; but that’s our fault.
I slept the whole night through Saturday. I think that’s the first time I’ve done that this millenium. Feels like an accomplishment. Sunday I woke to the smell of bacon cooking (and everyone should wake to that smell once a month). Mom then went on to prepare beef bourguignon for Easter’s meal (and yes, she did it solely on a small hot plate, with a rusted iron pot and water that took forever to boil). Take that Julia Child’s. Naturally, it was delicious over noodles and with sweet tea. It’s good to be only 2 hours away.
And today, in ten minutes to be exact, the Braves walk out on my favorite stretch of green — Turner Field. Of course, I have to work and will miss their opening game — sigh. It’s good to be Spring though.
To my right there are rectangle patches of the foggy Atlanta skyline. It’s the last week of classes for January term, and APA is in the air — wafting in a blend of anxiety, procrastination and the unbearable lightness that stems from turning in a final project (regardless of the upcoming grade, turning something in, letting it go and getting it out of your control is akin to rapture — take it from a former student and constant witness).
Whenever I drive past my building, I always look to see if the lights are on in my corner. It’s a habit; born of curiosity or control I’d rather not ask. Today, I imagine what they’d look like against all the gray — small cells of light, just above the power grid. I wonder who looks up as they flow past? If they have any concept of the reams of paper representing students’ work? Maybe they eat coconut cream pie yogurt at their desk like I am now? Who are these people? Who am I?
What is my relationship to this place?
Regardless, papers are being completed. Things are turned in. We all let go a little. The lights are on.
I’m looking out my window at what must be the fourth snow of the year. Northerners may turn their nose up at my distress, but it’s Atlanta and I’ve had enough.
I asked March to be gentle on me and the second day it has a chance, this is the stunt it pulls. Sigh.
So, I’m resigning myself to it. Repeatedly I’ve reminded dad that we can’t win against mother nature. At best, we can take shelter. And for this, I’m happy. I’ll just sit and watch the dance of flakes and traffic occur from my warm guest room. Accept the things I can not change. Yes, that one.
Snow snow snow. Do what you need to do. I’m watching, waiting . . .
Oh heavens. It’s been too long and too hectic. I mean, iPad has been released to the public, I got a year older officially, Zoë got older, the academy has announced it’s Oscar nominees. Whew. It’s all just a bit too much to process.
Therefore, I’m writing tonight from work. 75/85 southbound is a sluggish river of headlights. Most of the buildings around me have cut off their office lights, but a few floors remain illuminated — and the occasional solo worker alone. I always wonder if, like me, they get more work done with the co-workers gone.
Anyway, all that is an aside. January is gone. All the memories and events I could have shared have eclipsed. I’ll do better.
How did the groundhog do? I really am hoping for an early, productive Spring! And who, other than me, is going to planted in front of the television to catch the last season of Lost?