30

In seven short minutes, it will be April 22, 2013 and I will turn thirty years old.

I've just arrived back in NC after a long weekend at home in St. Louis where I was pampered, fed, and toasted more times that I can count.

(I have a really amazing family. I can't thank them enough for the outpouring of love this weekend.)

Being in St. Louis, I also made sure to, once again, visit Queeny Park. I intended to run there each of my four days, however Mother Nature had some other plans. I landed early Thursday morning amid a torrential downpour that literally lasted all day. I had to avoid the park Friday because I was unsure of the trail conditions. But Saturday dawned bright and blue.

I ran the Hawk Ridge Trail, the path I cut my running chops on. I ran it, admiring the work and care the staff have put into the trail the past several years. I ran it smiling, loving the rich green of the rolling grassy hills.

Spring in St. Louis is beautiful.

I returned early Sunday afternoon, with a non-specific agenda. I knew I wanted to run the trails, as many of them as I could, and cover some distance.

So, much like 15 years ago, I simply headed out the door.

I let my feet carry me over gravel that I explored first cycling, then walking, then running. For the first time in a long time, my thoughts quieted almost instantly. They were there, they were rambling, but they murmured considerately. My head felt spacious.

I smiled at all of the folks I ran past. I admired the equestrians. I ran up and down hills, following the rolling ravines that is Queeny Park.

I thought, again, about how grateful I am to have been able to finding running and to have stayed healthy enough to continue with it all of these years.

I thought about how no matter what I bring to running, what I release through my feet into the ground and through my mouth into the air, I always walk away better for it. I always feel expanded. Broadened.

It is now 12:21 am and I can celebrate being on this earth for three decades.

Here's to many, many more.

Second Annual RunRaleigh Half Marathon

Today featured another predawn morning. Today I drank coffee, ate a bagel, and danced joyfully from foot to foot in anticipation.

Today I ran my twelfth half marathon.

(Today, thirty years ago, my mother was wondering why she wasn't in labor.)

Today I ran the race showcasing my favorite half marathon route in Raleigh. Today I thanked the stars that it was cool, it was dry, it was calm.

Today I laughed hard when I read the sign "Running is stupid" because nothing is further from the truth.

Today I ran my last race of my twenties, alongside 1200 other runners.  Today I hoped to PR overall but was confident my course record would be smashed.

Today I once again threw up a prayer of thanks for my health. Today I laughed and celebrated loudly - the gift of running, the beauty of this life, and the strange ways of the universe.

Today I ran a 1:52:45 - came 23 seconds shy of beating my Richmond time - and shaved over 7 minutes off last year's run time. (And today, I didn't walk up the dreaded hill on Ashe.)

Today, though I struggled, I finished well. Today I heard countless spectators say, "That's right!That's how you do it - run with a smile."

Today, I smiled. I smiled big because on mornings like this, I know I've lived a good life.

And today, I'm reminded: it's only going to get better.

Rest

Last Saturday, my friend Glenna and I went to the second annual YogaFest NC and were treated to a full day of well-planned amazingness.

I feel like I should recount the whole day to fully give props to the organizers, but I'm a tad distracted right now and there are two things I keep returning to:

1) Morning Meditation. The instructor who led this class spoke something to this effect: "Many of our experiences are emotional and do not require immediate action. In fact, they suffer from it. Get angry, get sad, get happy - observe it, process it, and then act on it."

2) Yoga Nidra. Yoga Nidra is referred to as "yogic sleep" and it uses savasana as a tool to take the student into different levels of consciousness. Our guide for this practice was a lively sprite of a yoga instructor who gave us a roadmap for where we were going by explaining she would first call our attention to each part of our bodies - twice - and then proceed with a visualization process.

The room was dark and slightly chilly. Nearly two hundred students lay in various forms of corpse pose. Glenna shared her sandalwood spray with two ladies near us. We all settled in. Our teacher began to speak.

Your right hand. Your right thumb. Your right second finger....

....Your right wrist. Your right forearm....

Up the right arm, down the right side, then she began again on the left. I felt a momentary warmth in the places she called my attention to. My breathing continued to level.

Now here's where it gets weird.

Somewhere around her pronouncing Your left shin my mind, my consciousness, went somewhere else. I heard her speaking but the words were washed into the hum of the harmonium. I was settled in my body, my skin a thin shell containing my soul.

What brought me back was a pain in the back of my head. I can only assume that my I had cut some circulation off to a surface vein on my skull in my stillness. When I swam up, our teacher was in the middle of ascending the chakras. She was at the root chakra when her words regained meaning. I followed her words as she ascended through the pillar of the body and then she had us take leave from the cave that she had brought us to while I was out hanging on some stars.

I think I'd like to go back there sometime.

Alive, I promise

Just finding my footing in this brave new world I've found myself in.

Two things of note:

1) This past Saturday I attended YogaFest NC. I will be back and I will encourage other Triangle-Area folks to check it out. March 22, 2014. Do it, y'all.

2) I ran 15 miles yesterday in cool spring winds and warm spring sun. I may have gotten "lost" but was happy all the same.

I'll be back with a more detailed post about YogaFest soon.

Promise.

She Lit a Fire

More spring music, coming at ya....

Makes me want to break out a blanket, a frisbee, and sunglasses and wander barefoot to the nearest park for some sun therapy.




Also, some feet-moving music.

Fourteen

Before and after my run on this rainy Easter Sunday.

I'm drowsing a little bit this afternoon, post-run, post-big-brunch, settled in the glow of endorphin and accomplishment.

The RunRaleigh Half Marathon is two weeks away and I had shirked my long runs for the past two weekends.  I set out today to run at least 12 - and maybe more, if my legs would cooperate.

Rain was falling when I woke this morning, a light drizzle from a gray sky. Thankfully, this was a warm(er) spring rain.

I wanted to completely zone out, shush the nagging constant chatter in my brain. Mute it into a hum that was indistinguishable from the falling rain.

It took nearly an hour - somewhere between the six and seven mile mark - for the quietness to come. But come it did, unrolling like a blanket to match the gray skies. The running was effortless today, my lean legs carrying my knowing feet over so many miles of pavement.

My right Achilles tendon started whining a little the last few miles, protesting the addition - but a little whining was not going to stop me today.

One final loop in my soon-to-be-old neighborhood. One final loop carrying me over a new threshold.

14.02 miles ran today. How thankful I am.

The Shining

I first listened to this song sometime back in Chicago, in college - one of the many CDs borrowed from my friend Meg and slipped into my Discman, slipped into my jean jacket pocket, and toted around on the El or while I walked the streets.

Maybe it's because this March in NC is reminding me of spring in Chicago - the fickleness of the season, sunny and calm one moment, bitterly chilly bordering on freezing the next - and this song makes me smile with remembering that this moment of conflicting weather patterns will soon pass.

Yesterday after an early run, I found myself lying on the deck in the backyard of my soon-to-be-sold house. It was still chilly outside but stretched out on my back, I felt the sun begin to warm me.

Faith pours from your walls, drowning your calls
I've tried to hear, you're not near
Remembering when I saw your face
Shining my way, pure timing
Now I've fallen in deep, slow silent sleep
It's killing me, I'm dying

To put a little bit of sunshine in your life

Soleil all over you, warm sun pours over me
Soleil all over you
Warm sun

Now this slick fallen rift came like a gift
Your body moves ever nearer
And you will dry this tear
Now that we're here, and grieve for me, not history
But now I'm dry of thoughts, wait for the rain
Then it's replaced, sun setting

And suddenly you're in love with everything

Soleil all over you, warm sun pours over me
Soleil all over you
Warm sun