Intending vs Manifesting

Just before a yoga practice, your instructor will often ask if you'd like to set an intention for your practice. When I first graduated from yoga-on-tape to communal classes with breathing people and an instructor who pauses to lay her hand there, push your knee just so, help tuck your shoulder blades back, I remember thinking what a neat concept this was.

If I had actually studied yoga, starting with the famous Light on Yoga, I would have known this invitation was standard.

Tonight, before I began Clara's Swimming in the Stream class, I knew what my intention would be:

Blessings for my nephew, Carter Michael Macauley, born on the morning of All Hallows Eve.

That this little 5 lb 14 oz pumpkin will be healthy and grow swiftly with the love of his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles (and great aunts and great uncles) and troves upon troves of cousins of all varying degrees.

So imagine my surprise when I press play and Clara says, "Close your eyes, step to the front of the mat and think of the word manifestation. What does that mean to you? Is there anything you'd like to manifest in your life at this time?"

To manifest.  To show or demonstrate plainly; reveal. A manifestation. An outward or perceptible indication. Materialization.

Tonight Clara did not invite me to set my intention (the first step) but to take the actions to manifest my desires.
 
It was a good practice, very full of twists, binds, and back-bends. When my mind complained of my cramping foot or calf, my burning hip flexor or quad, I returned to my breath and thought of baby Carter drawing his first this morning.

I'm not sure I can verbalize what my answer to Clara's question is at this exact moment, but I feel it like a light in my chest.

Wintery Weather and Red Wine Ruminations

As it typically happens in North Carolina, the weather has turned to winter seemingly overnight.

This year, of course, we owe the sudden shift to Hurricane Sandy, who is still blasting our neighbors to the north. She very much is a hurricane to those folks (unlike our non-event weekend) and my thoughts go out to everyone. The NYTiimes pics are particularly overwhelming.

As for myself, despite the spitting wintery precipitation mix, I went out for an easy four miles. Yesterday I did a quick 30 minute yoga session to stretch out my hamstrings and I definitely reaped the benefits today. It felt good to break out the tights and the hoodies; I'm ready for red cheeks and ringing ears from the cold. 2012 has been a relatively flat-lined year in terms of weather, I'm ready for something to shift.

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It's chilly in the house and the kitties have been scrambling to get possession of my lap. Tonight I'm raising a glass of red wine to my brother and his fiance Emily as they prepare to welcome their son Carter Michael into the world.

It's a weird thing, thinking about your baby brother becoming a father. I remember the first time he toddled across the kitchen floor to my outstretched arms; the never-ending solitary game of t-ball he used to play with himself, running the bases backwards; picking splinters out of feet after he slid across our deck; taking him to the neighborhood pool in the summer for long afternoons of Sharks and Minnows.

I remember too the years I wasn't there because we were eight and a half years apart. He grew up while I was away at school, working my first fulltime job, all in all sorting my shit out.

So now I'm sitting here, nearly a 1000 miles away, while he embarks on one of life's great journeys. He's doing it with style and grace like only the cool-headed only son with three crazy older sisters can.

So proud of you, buddy. Congratulations to you and Emily and can't wait to meet Carter!

The Hurricane That Almost Was

Sandy may not have brought the rain and severe winds that were forecasted and prepared for, but she sure did make the last 48 hours feel like one long pre-storm twilight.

Friday night found me at another high school football game to hand out free hot chocolate. Initially I was concerned because the temperature hovered in the upper-60s, unlike the last game where the night quickly cooled and cold hands sought hot beverages eagerly. But the wind whipped all night, bringing through periodic bursts of fine rain, leaving the fans sodden and chilled and thankful for the drinks.

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Unsure of what Saturday morning would bring, I had ditched the garage sale plan Friday afternoon. Upon waking, I discovered more of what Friday night had brought. Gray turbulent skies, small bands of drizzling rain. Perfectly acceptable running weather.

But apparently most of Goldsboro was waiting to see how things would play out; the streets were eerily deserted, with the exception of me (clad in the neon-green Go! STL half marathon tech shirt) and the usual neighborhood dogs.

This morning's long run was the same - another day-glo shirt worn to be seen in the hazy gray - and the two hours took on a Twilight Zone quality. One minute I would be running into a fierce headwind, staring up at churning clouds; the next, I would round a bend and I would find myself looking at a normal horizon and in a near vacuum of stillness.

Very bizarre. Even the poor cats, normally very punctual with their requests for food, were confused by the half-light.

---

While I ran today, I thought about the upcoming race in Richmond. I realized that it is not only my tenth half marathon; it is the first long distance race where I will be the first of my little group to cross the finish line.

I'm having my doubts about the 1:50 goal, but I know I will PR.

And then I will get to holler as Glenna, David, and James cross.

Crescent Moon

Tonight I opted for a long overdue yoga session.

Man, did that feel good.

I did notice during my practice how all of the running has changed my muscles. My legs are definitely tighter - especially my hamstrings and my IT bands - and this I expected. (Note to self: must stretch better and more often.) But what I didn't expect was how my feet had been impacted.

This particular session asks you to do Natarajasana or Dancing Shiva pose. When done extremely well on a rock in the middle of beautiful woods you will look like this:

 

When done in modification in a nondescript room like most of us, you will look like this:

Anyways, I noticed that my feet have definitely become less supple than when I practiced twice or thrice weekly. Considering I've ran almost 600 miles this year on pavement, I should not be surprised. Growing taut and tough has protected my feet and thus my ankles and knees, I'm sure. 

But it was strange, feeling my feet cramp up as I tried to flex into the ground so I could grow up towards the sky. This just reminds me that there is a balance to be found here, somewhere.

Sliding Down

Today was one of those North Carolina days that makes me scratch my head. Sunny, dry, and 76° at 6:30 on October 24th. Warm enough to warrant running with my hydration pack.

The 10K route from my house takes me past some fields to a church. This season, the field is planted with cotton and the cotton is ripe for harvesting any day. I know that it's just my mind, but I swear those puffed balls released the faint smell of popcorn as I ran past.

A calm day, a calm run.

I've always enjoyed this number by Edgar Meyer, Bela Fleck, and Mike Marshall. Pardon the cheesy photo montage, but do yourself a favor and listen to the music.

Half-Full

My house, that is.

This past weekend, we moved James down to Athens, Georgia to start his new job. Sadly, it was such a whirlwind, we didn't get to enjoy the beautiful sunny fall weather. The fall color was beautiful and the weather was so perfectly lovely - at least the runners of the 3rd Annual "AthHalf" Athens half marathon got to enjoy it on Sunday morning! I know James is looking forward to running it next year, after appropriate acclimating to the hills of Georgia.

My brain, on the other hand, is very full - of thoughts and plans; lists and agendas; hopes and fears.

My quads were begging for a work-the-kinks out run after the weekend's heavy lifting, so I laced up after hearing how James's first day went (superbly) to beat the twilight.

It was only three and a half miles, but it's the first one in an while that I've done in the rapidly fading half-light of a clear crisp day. Each passing autumn twilight is especially poignant, as they come earlier and earlier and seem to grow shorter and shorter.


With only three weeks left to go until Richmond, I am unsure of how close I'm going to get to my goal, but I feel pretty confident that I'm going to PR.

The big 1-0 is going to be a doozie.

Perspective

Today we picked up the U-Haul for James's trek to Athens. When we got back to the house, dark clouds threatened on the horizon. I changed in a hurry and dashed out the door to do the Usual Four.

It was humid and windy and all the neighborhood dogs were restless and eager to bark at the fence.

I sped through my four miles and got home as the sun was setting and the clouds were breaking up.

Sometimes, things aren't what they seem; sometimes, the beauty lies just on the other side.

Rain-soaked

All of the light has gone out of the room as if we skipped the sunset and the twilight already passed us by.

Tonight's new moon will be ushered in by a series of storms.

Is it already the middle of October?

Here's some randomness for a Monday: People vs Places.

Sun-drenched

This weekend North Carolina pulled out all the stops.

It was absolutely gorgeous and I not only managed to get pinked by the sun but I'm pretty sure I was drunk off the prettiness of it all.

---

When James first moved to North Carolina, I seriously contemplated joining Teach for America because the town he was moving to was in the middle of their "rural North Carolina" designated area and it seemed like a great way to transition from what I was currently doing. When I was reading the description, I distinctly remember the sentence stating "You will quickly find yourself joining the locals at the Friday night football games."

In the four years I've been here, I've never been to a game. This past Friday, my work sponsored a hot chocolate give-away at the high school just down the road from my house. I didn't have to stay (just bring cups), but I did. The game was pretty bad; the home team got slaughtered (and it was homecoming - ouch), their kickers struggled with their punts, their scrappiest player was their best, their quarterback threw more incompletes than successful passes. But it was such the quintessential Friday Under the Lights that I kind of got caught up in the magic of it all.

The young ones ran amok outside the fence while the high schoolers tumbled around, between, and through each other, not unlike an enormous school of tuna. The stands were full of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The temperatures quickly dropped, the bleachers grew cold to the touch.

The air was dry, so the night shimmered with that sparkle in the way only chilly fall evenings under bright lights can.

--

The next morning was clear, bright, and chilly. James's schedule called for an eight mile run and since I hadn't run since Tuesday and was myself due for 5, we ran a tempo run together. A little over two miles to warm up, followed by 5 at a 9:00/mile pace, and a mile to cool down.

We ran past the church across the street where the whoops and hollers from the small back field signaled the opening day of flag football for the five year-olds. My coworker heads up this organization and he told me to stop by - "Getting these kiddos to play flag-football is like herding cats."

After the run, we joined our neighbors under the blue skies to work in the yard - covering the pool, trimming trees and bushes, cleaning gutters. I'd be lying if I didn't say it was bittersweet.

But it was also beautiful.

---

Morning came fast. David and James were scheduled a 15-miler and had planned to head to base around 7:30. When 7 am came, I swam up from the depths of a deep sleep and declined joining them; there was no way I'd be firing all circuits within 30 minutes.  By 8 am, after a small breakfast and some water, I was ready to go.

Alone for my long run, I opted for some old stomping grounds.

When James and I first started running in North Carolina, we did a small 3-4 mile loop out our apartment door and back. As I grew to know the area through my incessant Google Map use at my job, I added an adjoining neighborhood. Then James's old coworker Margaret joined us and we would run from her downtown loft apartment in a loop. This morning, I mish-mashed them together, really appreciating my Garmin watch and my own understanding of the area to let me wander as I needed to get to ten miles.

I'm not going to lie. Doing back-to-back long runs in a weekend whooped my tail. I am sore. And since I'm sore today, I shudder to think how I'm going to feel tomorrow.

But that's what coffee is for, right?

---

After a breakfast at IHOP, James and I showered and headed down to the once-capitol of North Carolina New Bern for the Mum Festival. It wasn't so much that the festival promised to be something amazing, but the weather was truly spectacular. So without further ado....

Blog Shout-Out

For the past few months, my cousin Mike, his wife Jessica, and their two boys Aidan and Colin have been adjusting to living abroad in Belgium. Before they left, they resurrected their blog The Sweet Life to document their travels.

Both Mike and Jess post and their writing is wonderful and their pictures make me drool. Hoping to make it over their during their 3-5 years there!

Keep the posts coming, guys.

Into the Grey

Sunday's cold front carried torrential rains yesterday and left lingering gray skies today.

55° and misting, today's Usual 4 called for breaking out the first long-sleeve tech shirt of the season.

(Sidenote: As a fair-skinned individual, I am always amazed at how much better I feel running in cool weather.)

Running through the mist today reminded me of my first autumn running in Chicago.  Actually, it reminds me of my first experience of Chicago, period.

I was sixteen. My high school was on its whirlwind junior trip - 72 total hours with at least 8 different activities crammed into it? When our bus pulled into downtown, it was drizzling, overcast and ferociously windy.

I took a picture of this restaurant:

Source

And while my classmates were bemoaning the nasty weather, I was falling in love with the city.

--

When I arrived for my first term a year and a half later, I was thrilled to learn that Chicago was on a grid - and even typically directionless me could learn to navigate a grid. From my room at University Hall, I would walk down Fullerton through the crazy intersection of Fullerton-Halstead-Lincoln and then start running east, toward the lake.

This is the first lesson of Chicago proper: if you continue travelling east you will eventually hit Lake Michigan.

During peak season, you and an untold number of others will swarm there on the lakefront path - bicycling, running, walking, rollerblading, skateboarding. You may even see (as I did on multiple occasions) a cyclist simultaneously walking their dog, talking on their cell, and smoking a cigarette. As such, there are times of the year when traversing this path is perilous. While I almost always walked with my Discman, I never ran with music.

To avoid the crowds, I ran there many a time at night (much to the chagrin of my native work supervisors), even as the all too brief autumn turned to an early winter. I would run east to the path and then run south until I saw the North Avenue walkway - then turn around and head back to the dorm.

Lake Michigan could be an angry gray beast during the long winter months, vast and powerful as the city thrumming just beyond its shores.The ceaseless wind would numb your tender nose, ears, and fingertips - "You come here now," the lake scoffed, "this is the price you pay."

I'm so glad I did.

Autumnal Weekend

Finally. After a trying week of North Carolina weather - with temps hitting 87° on Tuesday and Wednesday - my efforts slogging through the runs in unseasonably hot, humid nights was rewarded with a beautiful fall weekend.

I ran The Usual 4 on Friday night, and James and I ate supper and went to bed early. Saturday morning we got up in the predawn darkness to drive to Athens, Georgia.

--

In a few weeks, James will be beginning a position with James Greenhouses and our lives in North Carolina will draw to an unexpected close. As with so many things this year, I am startled by my wildly oscillating feelings. I am proud, nervous, hopeful, doubting, terrified, sad, and confused.

(Is this what happens as you grow older?)

Dear family and friends, please do not fret - this oft-wandering soul seems to just be struggling with the fact that she unknowingly began putting down roots.

Lucky for me, I have running shoes. And running is a wonderful balm for a weary soul.

--

We managed to conduct our business quickly and decided to return to North Carolina last night so we could tackle our LSD runs this morning. James was due for another 20 mile run and two circuits in the neighborhoods seemed the easiest way to tackle this. After running the first half, he popped in for some Gatorade, a GU, and me.

We ran the loops again, in blissfully chilly winds and under overcast skies. Despite some knee pain, James soldiered on and finished his 20; I felt so good I decided to add a few more loops - why not run a half marathon on this first truly autumnal day?

I am very encouraged by my 9:25/mile average moving pace and even more so by clocking my last four miles at negative splits down to 9:08. I am not sore. I was not taxed during those miles. Richmond will not get the best of me this year.

Half Marathon Training Check-in

As hinted a few posts ago, this fall has been tumultuous, which is part of the reason I haven't been writing a whole lot. But this is not a post about that.

The other part is that this time around, I have so much more experience and so many more tools to help make this training successful.

However, I thought it might be helpful to do a check-in at the halfway point of my training for the Richmond Half Marathon.

I have been less than perfect with following this plan...but have also surprised myself with my dedication to speedwork.

And I have been surprised with how well I've performed during my speedwork! Last week I clocked a 6:51/pace for one of my sprints. Didn't think I had it in me...

I've been toying with the idea of signing up for a pace group this time around. I'm waffling because on the one hand, I'm excited about making this goal, but on the other hand there's a small part of me that worries I won't get the same race experience. That my senses will be distracted by the other people in the group. Racing has always been about the minutes between start and finish for me...setting goals for exactly how many minutes it will take just makes it interesting.

I don't want to lose that heightened and yet blurred sense of time, where sounds are more layered, sights sharper, and feelings more visceral.