The Only 3 Things I'd Say Under Oath

I've written before about how you can find me on the floor in my living room, hands above my head admitting "I don't know anything!" Apparently, this feeling of uncertainty, incompetence, non-mastery is one of the blossoms of my introvertedness. Whowoulddathunk?! According to a book I read the first 50ish pages of three weeks ago (the pick up/put down method to my reading madness is a topic for another post), it is so boringly common for introverts to feel as though they know nothing until they have three Ph.D.'s in the subject area--perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration from what the author actually said, but you get the gist, right?

Well, there's a lot I don't know, that's for sure; volumes of knowledge I have yet to learn and even more that I will never learn. In these 23 short years of mine, I have learned some things, here's a list of 3 things I swear to be true and important:

1. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. I learned this as a theorem in geometry class as a sophomore in high school--it's likely the only thing I remember word-for-word from that class. My classmates say the teacher was talking about figures and numerical distance, but that's not what I heard. I heard her whispering truths about life, about pain, about friendship, about the going to the doctor. She said, the most efficient way to go is through rather than up and around and back three steps in order to cross the bridge which will take you to an elevator to take you back down to where you want to be. Efficient, not easy. If you get caught kissing your best friend's boyfriend, you can avoid him and her and lose them both, or you can go through the embarrassment and guilt and apologize and try to save at least one of the relationships. If you were hoping to get into that one program, and then you don't, you can go on being "fine" and just putter around because there's no joy left to be found or you can cry about it, remember what about it brought you joy, and find plan B. You can get your flu-shot at CVS and your birth control at planned parenthood and a cast for your broken wrist at the ER and just assume 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' works for healthcare, or you can deal with the obnoxious questions about your sex life during your yearly physical and know you've got somewhere to go if you need more than a physical.

2. A well stocked supply of chocolate, a pair of rain boots, and a best friend will get you through the hard stuff. Someone once told me, "there's no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix." Well, there are some heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix, but that's what the rain boots are for. When the rain comes down, it clears the streams and streets and washes away everything, if you let it. Put your rain boots on so you don't wash away, then let everything else go. And if you've got someone to hold your hand or sit on you or just be with you, you'll be able to remember there is a reason to keep going.

3. If you can dream it, you can do it. I once got into a heated argument with a professor about this statement because, at the time, my mind was bound by self-depreciation. This truth does not promise you dreams don't require you to work your patootie off and get disappointed and betrayed along your way to your first 12940724 failed attempts. It says your dreams are possible, they can become real. Dreams are not just sparkly wishes floating in and out of the puffy white clouds...some are, I suppose, if you just close your eyes and imagine and call it quits. When I said I wanted a pony for my birthday when I was little (I was joking, but if I was serious), it totally could've happened. I would have needed to have a legit chat with my parents and figure out how we could, together, make this dream of mine real. Dreams seem lofty for a reason--to get you to reach and become. A life of static existence is boring. Dream...and do.

The Heart-Wrenching Headache of the Day, yes, of the day

Four years ago, four summers ago actually, I nearly killed myself at a Christian summer camp. During orientation we were told of a magnificent acronym to shout at a staff member who looked like they were losing steam or passion or focus: FTK, for the kids. Everything we were to do that summer was 'for the kids.' If we took a nap during our break, the shut-eye was so we could feel refreshed and more capable of spreading joy for the kids. If we took a kid aside to reprimand [compassionately], the point was not an ego boost but rather to create a more positive experience for the kids. I came really close to killing myself for the kids. There is such a thing as loving too much, I learned.

11 asthma attacks, 7 that ended up with ambulance rides to the hospital. Apparently, I'm allergic to smoke and everything green and my asthma roars with exercise and allergies--so dancing around a campfire three times a week wasn't exactly what the doctor had in mind as life-sustaining-activity. Oops.

Despite my health issues, camp kept letting me come back because I was good at my job. In fact, I was pretty darn great...and each time I needed coaching to not cry while being wheeled into the ambulance, it was because I would be missing time with my kids. I kept coming back for the kids, that's what I thought. There's the heart-wrenching stuff.

Who are you? And why are you here?
And there's the headache.

That's how we began the first night's campfire each week. For my middle schoolers, the answers were typically: I'm (insert name here) and I'm at camp because I like (insert favorite activity here). For the counselors, however, answers were dug from a deeper place of intention. Perhaps something like : I'm  confused but overjoyed and I'm here to share both struggles with you and let you share your struggles with me this week so we can grow with one another. The answer was always another way of saying FTK.

Looking back now, I was being asked the ultimate questions each week. Yes, it was a getting to know you exercise but it also served as a moment of reflection that we never really took.

Who are you? And why are you here? What is your purpose? What is your goal? What drives you? What defines you? The questions swim around in my head most days. I ask myself these questions when I'm making decisions and when I'm not feeling confident and hope some clarity drops on me. There are some things I do that need definite answers to these questions and if my answers don't line up, I need to check-in with what I'm seeing in this world, in myself big time.

I'm starting a new school year soon, and with that, a new internship and a new swim season...each requires me to answer these questions daily and get some perspective. To do things to the best of my ability, I need to clean off my perspectacles and focus.

The Practice of Practice

I've written before about how I'm spectacularly aware that what I do actually know seems unsubstantial in the vast face of the knowledge, existence. If you're still reading after I've told you that I don't know anything, one of three things may be true--

1. You and I are in the same boat: You don't know anything either and feel linked with my soul. Therefore, you keep coming back for more simply because we have a connection unbound by words.

2. You think there's something groovy about my boat: You believe, in at least some minuscule way, that there is merit in acknowledging our weaknesses. And, perhaps, some of this merit is built on the idea that admitting weakness somehow speaks truth.

3. You're thinking of trading in your scooter for a boat: You're not quite sure why I say I don't know anything yet keep coming back to the keyboard day-after-day to write. You just don't get me but you want to, you're intrigued.

Solid.
I really like metaphor.

I've been thinking about this all day and still don't quite have the right combination of words to clearly and eloquently express my musing. There's no reason it couldn't wait for another time when I might be able to paint a more perfect picture. Before sitting down tonight, I realized something. If I was to wait, I would be lying on my back watching the clouds pass and feeling frustrated that I wanted one to look like a lobster and none of them did. I really like metaphor. I'm saying that I'd be waiting for what I deem as perfection to come into my sight and feeling frustrated when that moment never comes.

I'm the first to add impatience to my list of flaws. It comes a few words before perfectionism (because, naturally, the list would be alphabetized). When thrown into the blender that is my personality, these two qualities express themselves as anxiety, big, prickly, cardiovascularly-out-of-shape, anxiety. Nearly every moment of every day, I have to make choices that starve the anxiety. I have to practice stillness and cardiovascular normalcy (aka breathing) and all sorts of other things to distract myself or improve the moment (hey, hey DBT fans :D). Some times I'm a pro and others it's like I'm a newborn who can't even hold her own head up. Anyway, I practice.

The anxiety is what got me worrying back in March about how on earth I was going to be able to do therapy in the fall. Despite my experience as the client, I don't know a whole lot about being the therapist. Sure, we've taken classes but I've never actually had to do it. It's like an adult learning to swim--she might read all about the physics of floating and proper stroke technique, yet when she gets to the pool, she's afraid to come out of the locker room because this is different, it's real. I was reminded today that these things take practice. No one is great right away.

And, I was reminded that practice takes practice. You have to practice giving yourself a second chance. You have to choose to show up even after you've made a mistake. You have to practice compassion with yourself as you practice. Replace all the 'you' with 'I' and this shall be my mantra from here on out.

This life is a practice. I wake up each day and try again. Practice, practice, practice.

Choose Only Those Who Deserve

Nearly weekly from February 22, 2011 until August 5, 2013, I had the pleasure of getting my butt kicked by a brilliant and creative woman named Lauren. There were arguments and agreements, both avoiding and making eye contact, hours of silence and lots of talking. She was that person three yards past you who tells you to take a deep breath and try again each time you slip while climbing your mountain. She was that person who tells you when you've got spinach stuck in your teeth. She was that person who starts to dance whenever she sees you truly smile. She was exactly the therapist I needed. 

Sometimes she would talk and I would listen. One time, it was about buckets. BUCKETS.

We all have a bunch of buckets that we need filled. Sometimes we can fill our buckets, but more often, we let people into our lives to help fill our buckets. 

We need to be listened to.

We need to feel useful.

We need to be deeply, passionately cared about.

We need to feel special, important.

We need advice.

We need to be distracted.

We need to be sassed around.

We need to be reminded what we care about.

We need to be pushed.

We need compassion.

We need each other.

Butttttt, here's the kicker...two kickers really. (1) One person, no matter how special, cannot fill all out buckets. That's just how life is. We are complicated, complex beings with many complicated, complex needs. That means we need intimacy with more than one person. Your parent's might have advised you against putting all your eggs in one basket...this is the same thing. Don't expect each person you love to fill all your buckets. They can't. (2) Not every person we encounter gets a try at filling our buckets. And not every person we love gets a try at filling each bucket. This doesn't need to be trail and error. That just plain hurts. To put your needs, your heart on the line with every person and hope they don't let you down. You get to choose who deserves to try. You get to choose who deserves to come in contact with each piece of your heart. There are some people you love dearly who will never get to know the deepest hurts of your heart. Not because they aren't wonderful people but because however you need them to respond, they can't. And that's perfectly okay. Just promise me you won't go through your life spilling your heart out or hoping one person to meet all your needs, no matter how perfect they seem. It just won't work. It's not cynical. It's sane and it's fair.

Love yourself fairly.

Love each other fairly.

Create a Life Worth Living

This summer, I took two classes: Narrative Therapy and Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT). It started off great. The summer semester is just classes, no internship--so I was able to focus on academic learning the way I love to. Not only did I read everything assigned on the syllabus, I took notes and really dove into the material. It was AAMAZINGGG!

Around week 6, I realized I wasn't especially gifted in the Narrative perspective. After about 7 minutes of being crushed, I stabilized...and gave up. I pretty much stopped reading and participating in class--both painfully obvious to everyone.

However, around week 6, I fell in love with DBT. Around week 6, I felt incredible rapture as I read and understood and accepted and became whatever you become when you marry DBT. For those of you outside the therapy world, DBT is an intense, skill-based treatment for clients with the most risky and challenging behaviors--suicidality, self-mutilation, eating disorders, addictions, impulsivity--usually a combination of many of these behaviors. DBT therapists teach skills to these clients in order to help them create a life worth living.

I love it.
It makes sense.
I'm good at it!

In a world where I often feel like I'm not good at anything, DBT fills those spaces of inadequacy. I didn't know it was going to be that big. Before the class began, I knew some about DBT skills but didn't know the theory behind it all. I didn't know the reasons behind the procedures.

We plan our lives. We think we know what things are the big things, what days are the important days--or supposed to be that way. That's what we think. That's how we move through the world; how we have to move through the world. We have to think we know what is big and important or else it's all uncertain and scary. But that's really how it is. It's the normal days that often become important days...because we aren't expecting anything from the normal days.

So what's that mean?

It means that every day is an important day, that we have to wake up every day ready to create a life worth living. It also means that the creativity behind "a life worth living" may not be as overwhelming as it would be if we only did this on the important days. Not fireworks and birthday cakes and the 7 wonders of the world. Rather, Vitamin B12 and dew on the grass and turning water into ice and clean laundry. It means making good choices, even when they are the hard choices.

Ready? Go!

Dance through your life

Pain. You just have to ride it out. Let it go away on its own. Let the wound that caused it heal. There are no real solutions. No easy answers. You just breathe deep and wait for it to subside. Even if it takes longer than anticipated, longer than you think you can handle. 

Most of the time, pain can be managed. But sometimes, the pain gets you when you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn’t let up. Pain is a bitch.

Pain. You just have to fight through. 

Because the truth is, you can’t outrun it. And life always makes more.

Pain hurts. That's the nature of it and it's bad. There's always a lot of bad to focus on. there's hope too. And that matters. Hope matters. 

According to Glennon Menton Doyle. life is 'brutiful' (a hefty dose of both brutal and beautiful simultaneously) 

You can choose what you want to believe in--the bad or the hope or some combination.

You choose.

Now.

Every moment.

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass

it's about learning to dance in the rain.

-Vivian Greene

What is you decided to embrace Pain and Uncertainty and Confusion and all that? What if you decided that there is something to be gained from your current situation? What if you understood the awesome responsibility you have of choosing how you view your life? You get to choose if you wait and get angry about the cold, wet droplets pounding your skin or if you dance to the sound of the water sparkling around you.

What if you could appreciate where you are right now? who you are right now? Have you ever wondered what you would be like if the only person you compared yourself to was you? 

Don't get me wrong. I'm super cynical and sarcastic and find it disgustingly difficult to live in a state of home and positivity. Buttttttttt I LOOVVVEEEEE gratitude. Before I visited my best friend for just a few short days back in February, someone asked if I get the post-visit blues. My response? Surprisingly no, I wrap myself in post-visit gratitude. 

Now is the time to dance, because the longer you just wait, the easier it is to keep waiting...and waiting. The perfect time to dance will never come. Dance while things are imperfect and things just may get better pretty darn fast.

And here's a trick, don't dance alone. You can if there's no one around, but we belong to each other. We all live in this brutiful world. We are all trying to make it through. 

Confession: I'm an addict

If you know me beyond name, favorite color, and undergraduate major, you know I have a very addictive personality. Reframe it however you want: determination, commitment, dedication, passion, etc. When it comes down to it, I'm an addict.

For the doubters out there:

• in late January 2012, I began training for my first half marathon at the rate of ...I couldn't run a mile and in November 2012 I ran my first full marathon.
• while training for the full marathon, I got a stress fracture in my foot...and kept running. There were many reasons, among which was "it's what I do, I run."
• my favorite color is yellow--have you seen my bedroom and wardrobe?
• from February 2012 until about October 2012, the only cereal I ate was Panda Puffs. Now I'm on a Rice Chex sprinkled with coconut kick.
• come look at my bookshelf and you'll know exactly what four topics I've focused the majority of my research on.
• I chew every bite in some multiple of seven.
• Disney, need I elaborate?

True, I don't stress about when I'm going to score my next hit or if I'm going to have enough time to sober up before going to work in the morning or how I'll have enough money to buy food for the week after my cigarettes. But I latch on to things I like, things that are useful, things that make sense and hold on for dear life. That's addiction.

I'm a Brene Brown addict.

You haven't heard of her/her work??!!?!! Well, until late October, I hadn't either. Since then I've read each of her three books twice, watched her on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday, and become a follower of her blog: Ordinary Courage. No big deal.

Big deal!

She's a shame, vulnerability, fear, trust, courage, authenticity guru. She's a social work professor at the University of Houston and calls herself a 'researcher storyteller' because she believes "stories are just data with a soul" and her work brings that to life.

It all started when a professor shared Brene's first TEDtalk with us last October.

Within just a few minutes of engaging the video, I was hooked. If you didn't watch it, WATCH IT. That's all I'm saying here by exposing my addiction. Please watch it and let it change the way you live and love and walk through this messy beautiful world.

Everything is as it should be

Everything is as it is.
Therefore everything is as it should be.
Because everything should be exactly as it is.
That is not to say, perfection.
But, rather, compassion.

Everything it as it is right now.
And nothing can be anything else right now.
That which was, is.
And that which is, is.

Change is possible in the future.
Your right now determines your later.
And everything that is then will be as it should be.
That is not to say, happy, joyful, or unhurt.
But, rather, a culmination of life.

Stop wishing right now was different.
Because everything is how it should be.
That is not to say everything happens for a reason
Or that you deserve the sad, lonely, painful, hurt.
But, rather, it is part of life, your life.
Accept it.
Grow with it.
Go forward with it.

If it could have been different, it would have been different.

Dreams and Fairytales

Tonight I realized, with a hint of a tear in my eye, that I am no longer a little girl. Sure I've been filing tax returns for years and buy the majority of my clothes from the women's department (yes, I'm still small enough to wear clothes form the little girls' department when I want to) but I also really enjoy swinging and coloring and cuddling with stuffed animals when I fall asleep.

I'm sure you can remember the bedtime stories your mom or dad or babysitter or nanny told you during your childhood. Cinderella's foot fits in the glass slipper. The frog turns into a prince. Sleeping Beauty is awakened with a gentle kiss. Once upon a time...and then they lived happily ever after. It's nice to think about. Fairytales, the stuff of dreams. The problem is, though, that these peaceful endings, the chance to live happily ever after is all a dream. It's not real. Fairytales don't come true.

It's the other stories, the ones that begin in the dark and end in the dark, the ones that are scary and hard to understand, that come true. It's the nightmares that always seem to become reality--dark, scary, confusing, painful reality.

I was watching the U.S. figure skating championships tonight and remembered being a little girl watching the same thing. I have always been enamored with the sport but it is one that I never really tried. My mom built a ice rink in our yard each winter as I grew up but I never took lessons so I didn't know how to do much more than skate in circles and do close body and sit-spins. Still, I loved, loved. loved watching figure skating on TV. There was something mesmerizing about these women. They seemed so much older than me and so much more beautiful and graceful and talented but they led my heart to dream. I would sit on the couch dreaming of someday being something great. I never thought I would be an olympic figure skater but I had dreams. Honestly, I can't tell you what they were but I know I had them. I know I had dreams, big dreams. These are the kinds of dreams that don't take reality into consideration, the kind that don't care if you don't have the money or the time, or the access, or the talent...that's what makes them dreams. These beautiful young women gracefully glide to and fro across the ice as if they were telling me I could go anywhere I wanted. They stretched their arms wide to show me the world was mine. And they smiled to let me know I, too, was beautiful and could do anything.

Sometime between age 11 and 21, the way I watch figure skating changed. Tonight. though still enamored, I was jealous and felt inferior. These young women were younger than me and people already knew their names, they were already important and on their way to being remembered...and I'm still nobody. Sure, I am important to the people who love me. And there are quite a few people on this planet who know my name, but it's different.

The freedom I associated with figure skating was nothing short of a fairytale. Perhaps it comes true for one girl somewhere, but not every girl like me with their eyes glues to the sequined skaters dancing across the television.

Sometime between 11 and 21, my dreams learned the limits of reality. People don't talk about it, but life is governed by fear...and this now includes dreams. I only dream what I think can actually happen...and I am careful in how far I push that actuality because a dream that doesn't come true at 21 still feels as crushing, if not more, than it did at 11.

We all want happily ever after but for most people, I'm guessing happily ever after means something much different than it does for the princesses in my fairytale stories.

practice, practice, practice PATIENTLY

Let me join the rest of the cyber-world in wishing you a very

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

And now let me tell you my thoughts about this hyped-up time.

SCREW RESOLUTIONS.

I know I'm not the only one who thinks this, but I'm going to say it: I don't think I've ever actually fulfilled any of my new year's resolutions. EVER. Yeah, sure, I'm young, but in all reality, resolutions set us up for failure. Resolutions are  black & white. Resolutions are either kept or they're not. You either fulfill what you resolve to do/be/see/etc or you fail. 

From 10:30 on New Year's Eve until midnight, I participated in my Bikram yoga studio's  silent, candle-lit class to say goodbye to 2012 and welcome 2013 in peace. Bikram yoga is a set of 26 yoga postures practiced in unison in a room heated to 105 degrees with 40% humidity. That is to say, it is intense...then turn off the lights, light some candles, and remove the instructor and shoot dang! you've never witnessed anything like this before. 

For 90 minutes, the only words we heard were "start" when we were to begin a posture and "change"when we were to release. 

START

CHANGE

START

CHANGE

START

CHANGE

Yoga is a practice of the present. It's not something you ever master. It's not something you ever cannot do. It's not something that is ever the same one day to the next. We come to the room and practice. We practice challenging our bodies and and practice being kind to our bodies. We practice mindfulness of the moment and practice letting go. And when we drift from the view of our goal, we reign ourselves back in. 

This year, I resolve to PRACTICE.

I'm not going to promise any results will be accomplished.

Instead of kicking myself around the moment I fail, I will change and start again. This is called resilience. I will start and change and start and change and start and change and I will probably fail to keep this mindset but the beauty of my promise to practice is that falling short is not just okay, it's necessary. 

So while I check off the January days of watching people come in the the gym once or twice because they've superglued themselves into a straightjacket of fitness or whatever other "resolutions" people have made, I will walk forward and practice getting back up each time I fall. 

Take that!

It's new year's yoga style.

The theory of ENOUGHness

First of all, "enoughness" is a word.
Freshman year, my theology professor told me that all good theologians make up words. Therefore:

By the power vested in me

by the paper in my file designating me, 

Emily Marie Clark,

as a theological studies major,

I hereby declare "enoughness" a word

to be given equal respect and consideration

as all other formerly declared words.

Now that that's cleared up,

not that anyone was questioning the legitimacy of my vocabulary,

let's get down to business.

I wrote the synthesis paper for my independent study this past weekend. Dr. Julie Rubio and I had been reading about and discussing various ethical problem areas of modern American society and asking ourselves how we, as Catholics, are called (or if we are called) to respond? I was not going to be satisfied with vague or flimsy answers. I wanted practical suggestions that were flexible enough to tailor to my life experience but firm enough to stand the test of time and the scrutiny of Catholic morality. 

For the paper, I was to hash all that out in 12-15 pages. 

We read over a dozen books.

We touched on at least five different problem areas (I call them 'isms').

And so my process looked like this:

I didn't have enough time or space to write anything close to what I wanted to write, but I wrote 20 pages anyway. And around page 5, I explained what I've come to recognize as the driving force, the common denominator that connects all these 'isms' (individualism, racism, consumerism, materialism, classism, environmentalism). I call it the theory of enoughness...if you hadn't already guessed that.

Here's what I wrote:

Through the books I have read and other personal experiences I have had as a member of American society, I have observed a struggle within the culture characterized by an inability to sense when enough is enough. I am not the first to acknowledge a societal focus on “having” enough rather than “being” enough but perhaps I may be one of the first to point to a problematic element in the existence of a focus on either form of “enoughness” The shift from “being” to “having” has likely occurred because “being” falls to qualitative rather than quantitative measure which seems subjective and, therefore, inadequate or, at least, unreliable. As a result, Americans tend to lose their sense of Self while yearning for conformity and ‘the next big thing.’ With no sense of Self ‘having” allows people to overly-rely on external gauges to guide their determination of what is enough. The difficulty in measure, however, does not come from the need to be or to have but rather the context of enough. The ‘isms’ represent a dysregulation of the American sense of “enoughness”. Becoming desensitized to and struggling with “enoughness” causes power issues with relationship, food, sex, money, and goods. We see this power issue expressed in the stereotypes, discrimination, and oppression of others and ourselves that results from a disconnected relationship with the sense of enough.

GOT IT?

Here's the skinny:

Americans are on this treadmill of "the more the merrier" and "bigger is better."

The treadmill makes you work hard but never gets you anywhere.

Meaning: you're in a race that doesn't really matter, racing for things you'll never get.

But culture forgets to tell you that.

And so your endorphin high keeps you from knowing when to stop.

So your sense of what is enough dies.

And you end up hurting yourself and others in the process.

So, step 1 to making things different:

Remember it.

Believe it.

Live it.

And tell everyone about it.

Until next time,

may you find peace.

Merry Christmas.

Learning to walk

Hi, I'm Emily and I'm addicted to running.

real life.

Yeah, sure, I ran a marathon on a broken foot.

but that's not really what I'm talking about here.

When I mentioned to my mom two years ago that I could graduate a semester early, she shot me down before I had even finished expressing the thought. Her response was:

 "Emily, slow down. 

You've always been in a rush to get through life. 

You need to just let life happen."

At first, I was offended that she wasn't interested in hearing what I had to say but was enforcing her agenda on my life. But she was so right. Since that 'conversation' I've often reflected on what she said and really tried to bring a sense of mindfulness and peace into the way I go through life--simply starting with slowing down. 

Easier said than done.

Just last night, I stood in my doorway getting ready for bed and said 'Can I just skip tomorrow?' as if it was not worth the effort and somehow the following day my life would be dramatically different. what a cop out. 

Be mindful,

pay attention,

live slowly,

just be.

I want to skip past the school related stresses of the next 10 days.

I want to skip the boredom of Christmas break.

I want to skip the waiting period of the grad school application process.

I want to skip the discernment process that comes after I get letters from grad schools.

I want to skip saying goodbye at graduation. 

I want to skip the [anticipated] awkward loneliness of moving to a new place.

Apparently, I want to skip the next 10 months of my life. I have goals and I want to run towards them. I anticipate pain and change and I want to run past it. I'm addicted to running. 

Above All,
Trust in the Slow Work of God



Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
     to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way
     to something unknown, 
         something new.
Yet it is the law of all progress that is made
     by passing through some stages of instability
         and that may take a very long time.



And so I think it is with you.
Your ideas mature gradually. Let them grow.
Let them shape themselves without undue haste.
Do not try to force them on 
     as though you could be today what time
         -- that is to say, grace --
     and circumstances 
        acting on your own good will 
     will make you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new Spirit
     gradually forming in you will be.



Give our Lord the benefit of believing 
     that his hand is leading you,
     and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
         in suspense and incomplete.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God,
     our loving vine-dresser.


Amen.

Rock N' Roll Savannah marathon

I ROCKED IT.

Hott damn, yes I did.

26.2 miles on a broken foot

3 hours 54 minutes

16 minutes before the time I anticipated

before I hurt my foot

I was nervous, there is no doubt about that...

• how will bathroom breaks affect my time?
• when will my foot start hurting?
• what will happen if I can't finish?
• oh, gosh, 26.2 miles is farrrrrr

These thoughts (and others) invaded my mind all week but became oh, so, real as Nate and I stood in my corral at the start line. It was finally happening. The day I had been waiting for, training for was finally here and I had the choice to rock it or roll under the pressure. 

There is nothing like it. I started hurting bad around mile 17 and crying around mile 19 but crossed the finish line with a smile on my face. I held that smile just long enough for the photographer above to snap a picture, but then I started sobbing. Nate intercepted me and I sobbed. I was hurting so incredibly bad. My foot, my knees, and my quads all screamed at me. 

I do not regret my choice to run, 

not one bit.

moral of the story: don't tell me what I can't do.

the 3 D's

Back when I swam for Shannon Dunworth, he sat the team down for a "come to Jesus" meeting of sorts regarding our goals and motivation. What he said centered around what he called the 3 D's of success:

DedicationDetermination
Desire

These three have similar cores that give them a similar purpose. Dedication, Determination, and Desire propel you to dig real deep when you are stressed or tested or just plain tired. Some people see it as stubbornness or inflexibility or pride--and, granted, sometimes it is--but mostly there is a force from deep inside you pulling you toward something.

One who is dedicated knows knows every day is not her best day but that every single day counts. The dedicated student does not procrastinate or cheat or do just enough to slip under the radar. The dedicated athlete does not spend her time distracted or wishing her body felt more able or making excuses. Those who are dedicated are consistent and reliable. Each night, it is their fortitude that is rejuvenated through rest.

One who is determined sets goals with the intention of meeting them. This determined individual knows herself well enough to know her capabilities. Her goal is one step beyond the point at which she knows she will want to give up. Her dedication to herself and her goal keeps her from sitting on the sidelines in fear. Determination holds a person to a higher standard or excellence, not perfection, but excellence. This excellence results from knowing one's capabilities and never settling, for a determined individual knows that "to settle for less than your best is to willingly surrender a part of yourself that could have been."

One who has desire knows nothing of complacency. Desire fuels the drive for greatness. For it is "only those who dare to fail greatly [who] can ever hope to achieve greatly."

In January 2012, I tied on my shoes the same way I've tied them for years but I had a different reason this time. I wanted to see if my body was capable. I was not going to push myself beyond what my body was capable of but I was willing to push myself beyond what my body was comfortable with. I didn't sign up until March 1st because I needed time to listen to my body. I thought I could do it, I listened to my body, and I did it. On April 16, 2012, I completed my first half marathon.

On June 6th, I sat on the couch wondering if I could do more. Still unsure, I decided to, again, listen to my body. I thought I could do it, so I would try. On June 6th, I signed up for the Rock N' Roll Savannah half-marathon which would take place on November 3rd. I had every intention of running a full marathon but I wasn't sure if I was capable. My plan was to start out training for the full but not put my money on it (literally) until I was sure. After a solo 12-miler after 6 hours of work that began at 6am, I was sure and so I did the upgrade. The marathon is in 2 1/2 days and I am struggling to hold on to that certainty. I've trained with all 3 D's but I'm still wondering if that's enough. I was dedicated--I ran when I was tired and when it was too cold and too hot. I was determined--I started the long runs with Kelsey with a plan (finish) and a go-get-em attitude. And I had desire--even after being put in a stability boot with a stress fracture 2 1/2 weeks ago, I've continued to run because I want this. I want this for me. I am proud of myself and I want to finish the job. But I'm scared. 

"I'll be there to help 

whatever is left of you 

at the finish line. 

Either way, 

you're going to cross that finish line, 

even if it's on my back" --Nathan Blair 

people say running is an individual sport. Clearly, those people aren't runners. 

Loss

There are some things in life you just simply don't ever think you'll lose. And sometimes when you lose things you don't necessarily get them back. It's a bitter pill, that's for sure, especially for someone as hardcore opposed to unexpected change as me.

Well, I've had two of these losses in the past three months and, let me tell you, it's no easier the second time around. Like my father taught me, I'm sitting here with a bag of dark chocolate m&m's (lies it's the bag but its actually trail mix inside and I'm hugely failing at eating it, so you can tell by my writing when I should be eating).

The first time you go through a loss it's really difficult because its new territory. Do you talk about it or keep it to yourself? How sad are you allowed to be before seeming pathetic? When can you begin to move on? These are all legitimate questions with no specific answer. That's why they call them learning experiences. 

Still, every loss is different so even if you did learn from the time before, the second (or third or fourth or however many) time won't play by the same rules. That's what I'm finding out today. 

I'm learning life is pretty much a guessing game--and this is just another proof of that hypothesis of mine. 

So, anyway, that's the insight I've drawn from losing yet another toenail to marathon training. 

(viewer discretion is advised)

Random interjection: I just threw my apple core across the room and IT LANDED IN THE TRASH CAN like it is supposed to GO ME

When a person runs, their toes hit the top of their shoe with each step. Such repeated trauma often results in blisters on the toes and under the toenails. I popped one under my second left toenail last night and in the process, the toenail just plum fell off. If a toenail has a root, the root came off too so it looks like I may not be getting that toenail back in this lifetime. Loss but not quite as tragic as I may have made it out to seem. 

Until next time, shalom.

Dry but proud

As a swim coach, my swimmers know they have the opportunity to push me in the water (yes, with all my clothes on) when they win a meet. They've put in hours and hours of practice and walked around deck sopping wet for hours that night and they want to let me share in their joy in a very special way. Driving home soaking wet the way I did many times last summer was uncomfortable but I was beaming with pride the entire time because I knew exactly what went into winning that meet that resulted in pushing me in.

I've got a different team this summer--a total 180 from last years 5-year no-loss streak, this team hasn't won in quite some time. Granted, they've had some terrible coaching and less than stellar parental involvement. But things are looking up, we didn't win on Monday but we came darn close. In fact, we were winning for about 3/4 of the meet, then we just got super tired.

Although I drove home completely dry, I drove home happy and even more proud than any week last summer. I had dried tears. I had given dozens of high fives. I had screamed my face off and had shuffled up and down the deck supporting my swimmers. Mary swam 2 legs on a relay and then gotten back behind the block to swim the last leg on the following relay. Megan won 1st in the 100 back right after telling me she wasn't sure she was going to be able to do it and if she did, it would take her 5 minutes. Chase took over some spots for kids that didn't show up. Cindy (one of the moms) gave me a sippy cup of wine. Ashley promised me she'd swim up in two weeks if she could practice longer races at practice. Jackson swam some of the best butterfly I've ever seen from a 10 year-old and, more importantly, he was proud of how he did.

When I was younger, I never understood how people could say "it's not about winning" and really mean it. In my mind, that's all there was. You won or you lost. If you won you did well and if you lost, well, you didn't do enough. Now I see what it is though. I came into this summer season with the goal of transforming the team--morale, competency, responsibility, etc. That can and probably will still happen, but it is not my goal any longer. My goal is simple to say, hard to do: get kids to believe in themselves.

I want the answer to any question about their abilities to always be: YES I CAN.