Running as Spiritual Practice (Wha???)

Running is sacred for me, like meditation or yoga is for some folks. I check in with myself when I run. I get real. Like, real real.

Running is sacred for me, like meditation or yoga is for some folks. I check in with myself when I run. I get real. Like, real real.

When I’m running, I can’t lie to myself. Who’s got the energy for running AND lying? I get honest when I run. It’s the time I can best see through my own bullshit.

Truth-finding at it’s finest.

This summer, I committed to approaching each run with curiosity & wonder. Atlanta’s got a rich tapestry of complex beauty to explore. But I can’t really engage with my surroundings when I’m tripped up on things like time and distance. So, I stopped struggling to meet goals that required miles of continuous running. And I started taking pictures. Instantly, running became an adventure. Taking time and space to connect with the world around me really upped the ante on running as a spiritual practice.

Now, (on most days) I emerge from a run with an honest, peaceful connection with the space that surrounds me.

Pretty damn cool.

 

Running has also honed my ability to listen to myself. I often set out on a run with some loose goals in mind. But, most of the time, my body has plans of its own. Sometimes that means a farther run, because I’m feeling good or I’m trying to work through something–and I need the mental space and/or the boost of triumph that a long run provides. Or it could mean altering my pace, running faster for a shorter time or plodding along just taking it all in. Running is teaching me to trust myself again (drunks are notoriously untrustworthy. It’s been years since I picked up a drink, but I still struggle with self-trust. Running helps).

Today, on this bright and sunny summer day… I didn’t want to run. It seemed like a helluva lot of work–especially since leaving my house for a run requires running uphill no matter which direction I head. I procrastinated. I rationalized. But I had no good reason to not run–so  I finally hauled my ass out the door. And for the first 500 feet, I was miserable. Then I told my brain to suck it. I needed the time outside. I needed a self-check in. And spiritual practice is, well, a practice–not an if-I-feel-like-it situation.

And I’m so glad I hung in. Because today I found this:

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It’s a splash park, y’all!

I ran through the water (spontaneity! Usually I’m AWFUL at spontaneity). And took a picture. And felt really grateful I’d come on this run after all.

Running’s about discovery for me. And about being a better version of myself.

And, c’mon, a spiritual practice that involves splash parks…that’s rad.

Oakland Cemetery Run

This morning dawned dreary and cool(ish) after last night’s rains. What better time to take a run through one of Atlanta’s most famous cemeteries than on a cloudy Monday morning? Right. No better time. So, off I went.

This morning dawned dreary and cool(ish) after last night’s rains. What better time to take a run through one of Atlanta’s most famous cemeteries than on a cloudy Monday morning? Right. No better time. So, off I went.

The best thing (the VERY best thing) about running in the summer is feeling free to do whatever I want during a run. No pressure. It’s hot as all hell outside, so taking it slower & just staying in the moment becomes a survival technique. And it’s also a technique that lets me take a lot of pictures on my running adventures.

Here’s Oakland Cemetery in Grant Park, Atlanta, in all it’s summertime glory:

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Beautiful. And peaceful. Such a chill way to start my Monday.

I’m grateful I live in Atlanta. Every day, I’m grateful.

 

Florida’s Weird & So Are We

I’m back in Florida to visit my family and to retrieve my daughter from a week of rollicking fun with her grandparents, aunt, and cousin. I mean, for real, they went to Legoland, to the beach, they swam, they played…

I’m back in Florida to visit my family and to retrieve my daughter from a week of rollicking fun with her grandparents, aunt, and cousin. I mean, for real, they went to Legoland, to the beach, they swam, they played… It was, apparently, some serious fun.

I think Jane grew at least 4 inches in this one week. But, in good news, I’m still one of her very favorite people. And she still likes to build stuff:

And she’s still weird as all get out, so there’s that.

I, of course, couldn’t resist a run this morning. It’s really just become part of my daily. And I miss it when I don’t get to go exploring on foot. I know: WEIRD.

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These birds are my nemesis. Seriously, one rose up and flapped it’s wings at me. I cussed him out & then hauled ass out of there. If you assumed I’d think these suckers were majestic or something, well, you just don’t know me at all.

Top left: Untamed Florida. I kept wondering if a gator was about to snatch me up. Bottom left: Planned, designed Florida. Still kept waiting for a gator to get me. Right: A magnolia tree. I checked it first for a gator.

And then, when I was done with my run, drowning in 90% humidity, and sure I was safe from the gators, I found this dude on a playground. I think I’ll call him Lil Whaler:

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Florida’s been fun. Catch y’all when I get back to Atlanta. ❤

5 Things I’ve Learned Today

If you go on & on about how hot Florida is, Georgia’s gonna get all jealous and show off. It’s okay to change plans. Seven year olds are non-truth tellers. Everyone needs to own their part. Today is always a good day for a do-over.

  1. If you go on & on about how hot Florida is, Georgia’s gonna get all jealous and show off. That’s why today it was 87 degrees by 10:30 a.m. And why, on a 5K run, I thought I might simply evaporate into thin air. Or spontaneously combust. Which one is more likely under oppressive heat that sucks all the oxygen out of the air? Either way, hot as actual hell. Sorry, Georgia. You are hot, too. The whole South is hot. So there.

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    Wait! Am I actually in hell?! No, no… that’s just the Atlanta Zoo parking lot. Whew!
  2. It’s okay to change plans. Like if, say, you’d planned on taking a nice jaunt through the cemetery on your run. But then you realize that the cemetery doesn’t have much shade to speak of. Then you might just decided that–unless you want to make the cemetery your permanent home–you should run through the park, where shade abounds and you’re likely to be hot and tired but ALIVE at the end of your run. Maybe, if something like that happened, it’d be okay to change plans.

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    Ah, shade: so beautiful… and life sustaining. 
  3. Seven year olds are non-truth tellers. I discovered this 3 days ago, when I started excavating Jane’s room. Normally, she frowns upon me touching her stuff. But she’s vacationing in Florida right now… which meant I got to venture in to her room and discover that it was DIRTY. Like, real, real dirty. Holy shit. She was supposed to be straightening, dusting, and sweeping her room every week. But, I guess I was also supposed to be checking that she done that oh for, say, the past year. Oops.

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    Jane in Florida with her aunt & her cousin. Shhh… don’t tell her I touched her stuff.
  4. Everyone needs to own their part when shit goes wrong. I know Jane tried to clean her room. There’s just too much STUFF in there for her to clean anything. I let her accumulate all that stuff. Then I didn’t check if she was really cleaning–because I’m overwhelmed by the stuff. I was lazy and wanted to avoid a hard conversation about hanging on to and collecting things …. and I paid for it for the last 3 days.

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    Me, after cleaning Jane’s room.
  5. Today is always a good day for a do-over. I tell Jane we can start our day over any time (thanks A.A. for that little nugget). So, I’m calling a do-over on cleanliness and orderliness. Whatever I’ve been teaching Jane about either one of those so far is a load of horseshit. No one needs as much stuff as she has. And cleanliness is next to godliness–or something like that. I just know that if I ever go into her room again and it’s that dirty, all she’s going to get for the next gift-giving-holiday is a Wet Swiffer and some dust cloths. And maybe a hutch to keep the dust bunnies in.
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    The clean version. For a before shot, imagine if a tornado swept through here. A very dirty tornado.

     

 

 

 

Header Image by Franck V. on Unsplash

Adventures in Florida

Tubing. Boating. Waterskiiing. Archery. Woodcrafting. Golf cart driving. And real, real tasty food. Life at Camp Kellogg is pretty dang good.

Simon, Jane, and I flew down to Florida this weekend to visit these folks:

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They’re my bonus family (aka in-laws). Jane’s aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents… all present and accounted for! I love that Jane is a product of this large, boisterous group of charming, quirky people. They’re not all often in the same place–but, man, when they are, they do it up. Jane got to go tubing (behind the boat) twice. Squirt guns? Of course there were squirt guns, too! She drove the golf cart (well, kinda sorta–but still!). She built things in the woodshop. She also shot her first arrow. Because nothing says “I’m living my best childhood” like bows & arrows.

While she was living it up at Camp Kellogg, I snuck out for a run. Florida is a special kind of hot–like melt-your-skin-off-your-body hot. The thermometer said it was 83 degrees. But I think it’s a lying bastard. It was SO HOT and humid, that I could barely breathe. At 9 a.m. But I did get this shot on my run:

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Florida’s no one-trick pony, y’all.

Florida summer running is humbling, for sure. But all the years I put in running in Florida (with it’s year-round scorching weather) sure do make summer running in Atlanta seem like a breeze.

A weather-related flight-fiasco kept us in Florida last night, unexpectedly–which I’m sure was a good, teachable moment for Jane about rolling with changes-in-plan, especially when traveling. Problem was, no one felt like teaching her a damn thing. We felt like going home. But that was a no-go. So we rallied and were back at the airport by 5:15 this morning. With our 7 year old. Our lovely, chatty, question-asking 7 year old.

I’m not sure if it was lack of sleep, a driving desire to be home in Atlanta, or just plain old gratitude—but the flight this morning felt nothing short of mesmerizing. The take-off especially felt magical. How could it be that one moment we were on the ground– then rising through the sky, just as the sun came up?

And when I saw Atlanta finally come into view, I felt that same thrill that I always have when I see the skyline:

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Florida is home to so many people I love. But Atlanta has my heart… and always has. I am so thankful to be back home–where I belong.

#SummerRunning

I’ve been exploring Kirkwood, Edgewood, Cabbagetown, Reynoldstown, and a little bit of Decatur. It’s Georgia hot out there, which means that by the time I start running at 9 a.m., it’s already 80 some-odd degrees. That frees me up to not worry about my time and just enjoy the run. And I have! Like, for real. 

I’m really FEELING running right now. This isn’t always the case. Sometimes I trudge through a run because I know I’ll feel better later (running is a central part of my mental health maintenance routine). But, for the past few weeks, I’ve woken up excited about each new running adventure.

I blame this guy:

I mean, come on! Adventure! Fun! And he always seems so genuinely thrilled to be running. So, I got kinda thrilled, too.

I’ve been exploring Kirkwood, Edgewood, Cabbagetown, Reynoldstown, and a little bit of Decatur. It’s Georgia hot out there, which means that by the time I start running at 9 a.m., it’s already 80 some-odd degrees. That frees me up to not worry about my time and just enjoy the run. And I have! Like, for real.

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My 4 big takeaways over the last few weeks:

  1. Things are rarely what they seem. The hill that looms so large… once I start climbing it, doesn’t seem so bad. The air that feels cooler because of the cloud cover is going to produce inescapable sticky-hot humidity that will ultimately slow me down. I’ve stopped trying to anticipate the future–even the next few minutes–and just go with what is.
  2. There’s an adventure waiting–but you have to look for it. I found a forest in Kirkwood! And a completely shaded, lovely trail… that’d I’d been by a million times but simply never turned the corner to explore it.
  3. It’s easier to enjoy the moment with no agenda. There’s a time & a place for plans (and training). But just being… taking things as they are, walking when I need to, stopping to take pictures makes running so much more exciting and enjoyable. No expectations. It’s really lovely.
  4. Make time for what matters. I rarely feel so enamored with running. So I don’t often devote this much time to it. But, lately, it helps me feel grounded, connected to myself. Making the time to do this for myself makes me a better mother, partner, writer.

Running… it’s how I’ve spent my summer so far. What’s your summer been about?

Just Do You. Brilliantly.

I sort of threw Jane in dance so I’d have an extra day to work past 2:30 pm. She seemed to like it. But sometimes it’s hard to tell if Jane likes an activity or just likes hanging with her friends. I don’t begrudge her that. I like to hang with my friends, too. And if she’s hanging while she’s doing pirouettes or what-the-hell-ever, so much the better.

My kid loves to perform. Singing? Oh, the girl sings. It’s like living in a musical in our house. Acting? She recreates scenes from movies, shows, the play they performed at school—all the time. Playing the piano? She practices without being asked. She’s seven. WHO IS THIS CHILD?!?

Dance, though. Dance is one of those after school activities that I sort of threw her in so I’d have an extra day to work past 2:30 pm. You know, more like a normal person. She seemed to like it. But sometimes it’s hard to tell if Jane likes an activity or just likes hanging with her friends. I don’t begrudge her that. I like to hang with my friends, too. And if she’s hanging while she’s doing pirouettes or what-the-hell-ever, so much the better.

Yesterday, Jane had her big dance recital—in front of the whole school. Let me stop right here. I would have lost my shit if, at 7 years old, anyone had asked me to do anything in front of the entire school. Hell, I’m 42 years old, and the idea of standing up in front of almost 600 elementary aged kids makes me want to puke. But Jane, she was excited. So excited she thought she might EXPLODE, she informed me later.

I love and am fascinated by this child in equal measure.

Jane knew every single move to the tap dance. Of course. She knew every move, but something seemed off. She was doing it right. But she didn’t seem to be feeling it. The little girl next to her was living this dance.

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Jane, not so much. She was doing it right. But it looked like it was taking every bit of her concentration. She was not one with the dance.

My first instinct: “Well, we can cut this out of the rotation next year.” I mean, we can only do so many activities. Dancing isn’t her strongest showing, so I thought… eh, we’ll try something different next year.

On the way to the car, I ran into the owner of the dance company. We chatted about how much Jane enjoyed the class. Then I mentioned that Jane seemed to be struggling to connect the moves, that dancing didn’t seem to come easily to her. The woman’s expression softened: “How wonderful that she embraces something that pushes her out of her comfort zone. She keeps pushing, even though it’s hard for her.”

Oh.

Right here is why other loving, supportive adults are crucial in child-rearing. Because obviously having Jane do something she doesn’t excel at is a great idea. It teaches perseverance and empathy (not everyone can be good at everything, after all). And the experience itself far outweighs the importance of tap dancing like Shirley Temple.

I’d gotten schooled about my own kid. It was humbling.

But this lesson about experience over performance is one I’ve already had to learn. Jane’s experience in dance mirrors my experience in running. I am not a great runner. I will never qualify for Boston. I rarely place in my age group. I might place third in my age group—if only three people my age run the race. I have friends that I’d love to run with. But I can’t. I’m not fast enough. Can’t keep up.

Nevertheless, I love to run.

For a brief moment, I almost let the fact that I’m not very good at running push me out of the sport. I got real caught up in times and placing in races and PRs. And it stopped being fun. Because I was trying to be a runner that I’m not. That sucks.

So why should Jane be a dancer she’s not?

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I tell Jane all the time that exactly who she is is enough. It’s perfect, in fact. Whether she’s the best dancer on the stage matters not a whit. I want her to do what she loves–to do her best, soak up experiences, and just be herself.

I run.

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She dances.

And we’re both brilliant at enjoying the experience.