It took Nyad five attempts – five – over the course of more than 30 years. This tells as much about physical skill and endurance as it does about patience and perseverance.
Do you have the stamina to dream big and go after what you want? That’s what I’ve been working on this year and will continue to do so as we welcome the new year.
Diana recently gave a TEDTalk about her record-setting swim. I’ve embedded it below. Enjoy!
Writer/director dream hampton asked this question on Twitter and shared a steady stream of responses. People taught their children to read, nurtured loved ones in times of sorrow or ill-health, quit jobs they hated, and traveled or moved overseas.
Some took classes and learned things that allowed them to radically transform their ways of being. Others wrote books, got married, took a chance on love, or learned to love themselves.
It’s a beautiful question, and one that requires no external metric. I’ve been thinking about it, and while there are lots of things I’m glad I accomplished or tried or read, I think the best thing I did was push beyond my comfort zone. There were several times this year where things felt risky or scary or I was unsure how they’d turn out, and I decided those were great reasons to try them anyway.
Comfort with discomfort is pushing me toward new goals for 2014, and I’m intrigued and excited about how they will manifest.
But enough about me. What was the best thing YOU did this year?
It seems only a few days ago when I wrote about the autumnal equinox, but here we are, welcoming a new season. It’s the first day of winter, and it comes to us bringing rainy skies and mild temperatures.
Despite the gray start, I am feeling pretty sunny about things. I have a few projects in the works – some brand new and others that are getting a much-needed refresh.
I’m not waiting until the new year to get started. I am beginning today so things will be well underway as thew new year dawns.
What about you? What plans do you have for winter or the new year?
I wrote a piece for the Body Narratives, a project founded and curated by Hana Riaz. The project creates space for women of color to reclaim and share their experiences. It’s a beautiful platform, and I’m honored to have a piece included in this body of work.
Here’s Hana’s introduction:
Our bodies are often physically and emotionally tied, and yet the disconnect experienced, the gap between the two can often seem overwhelming, painful, difficult. In this moving and deeply honest piece, nicole d. collier talks about living with fibroids and the body as a site of trauma.
This was a milestone week for me in many ways, including the fact I finished two 10Ks! One was in miles and the other was in words.
On Sunday I was feeling, as they say, “froggy.” Out of the blue, I declared to myself that Monday I’d run 6 miles for the first time.
This has been a goal of mine for a long time. I know many people who’ve done it, and my personal long was 5.55 miles, from a year ago. I’ve only run five miles or more a handful of times in life, and the 10K/6.2 mile mark seemed scary, quite honestly.
On my days of high energy, I’d think about tackling it, and it just seemed a touch too far. Rather than drown in a sea of what ifs, I generally stopped thinking about it as soon as I felt the telltale adrenaline. I wasn’t sure why it made me nervous, but it did.
But Sunday, I felt up to the challenge. I wasn’t positive I’d actually go for it my next time out, but I knew it wouldn’t be long now. Blue ran with me Monday morning, and when we got to my usual two-mile turnaround point, we decided to go a little bit farther. Then a little more.
After running 6.2 miles on the Greenway.
“How do you feel about round numbers?” he asked, taking a peek at his Garmin. I knew we were past two, but I couldn’t gauge how far.
“I like round numbers.”
Eventually we were at an even three, which was guaranteed to get me six by the time we arrived back at the start.
As we passed the 5.55 mile mark, I smiled. I was excited to best my personal long and even more excited to know I was going to finally accomplish a long-standing goal. When we got to the start, we doubled-back a tenth or so and came back to finish the .2.
So that was the second 10k.
The first 10k actually happened the day before, on the 10th of November. And now that I think of it, perhaps the earlier achievement inspired the latter. After many false starts and absolutely zero words dedicated to the effort, I started my first novel this month.
Well, my second if you include the one I began in middle school (which my peers said was really good!).
In October, I announced my desire to be a romance novelist (among other things), and November, National Novel Writing Month, seemed like a great time to start. I’ve long been familiar with NaNoWriMo, the project which encourages authors to write a draft of a novel (50,000 words) in 30 days. Now, I don’t believe in gimmicks. And because that seemed irrational and unsustainable, I always rejected the project outright. But this month, on the first day of NaNoWriMo, I decided two things:
If I only participated a few days, I would’ve at least gotten started on my novel. That’s more than I can say for the past several years of thinking about it.
Who cares about that 50k goal? I could set whatever goal I wanted. One thousand words a day seemed doable, and again, if some days I couldn’t hit it, see number 1.
So I started. And on the 10th day I hit my 10,000th word. My first 10k!
In honor of my 10s this week, a word from B Scott:
Author’s note: In 2019, I discovered that B. Scott has deleted this epic video from the internet. If it’s reposted, I will be sure to update this entry.
The chocolate brown woman shook her head as she embraced me, the two of us in the nearly empty corridor. It was August, the beginning of the school year. It was my first time seeing Mrs. Jackson, a long-term substitute at the elementary school where I worked. My had mother died unexpectedly just before the last days of school the previous year, so coworkers who saw me still offered condolences.
“It’s been ten years since my mom died. You never get over it,” she said to my cheek. I nodded as we pulled away, not sure how to take her news.
Mama’s voicemail sounded an alarm. “I’m not feeling well. Call me back.” I returned her call right away. No answer. Heart pounding, eyebrows raised, I left a message in return, chiding her for scaring me by leaving mysterious messages and then refusing to answer the phone. In my nearly 30 years of life, I’d never heard her say anything so ominous.
I’m home, after a day of inspiration. And like I’ve been for the past few months, I’m tired. I’m not bone tired or weary, but I’ve just noticed that I’m not as energized as I used to be. There are many very specific reasons for that, but they all boil down to one: change.
One day after work, I did handstands and cartwheels in this grass.
Over the past several months, I’ve changed a lot and so has my environment. From my zip code to my job responsibilities, to aspects of romantic and platonic relationships.
Personal goals and professional goals have shifted. Exercise habits have changed. Food. The amount of time I spend in the sun or the ways I engage nature. The amount and type of sleep I get. It’s all been one massive ball of change.
Some changes have been on purpose, and others were the result of circumstances. But it still amounts to the same thing: a whole lot is different right now.
It reminds me of the time I was a classroom teacher. At the beginning of every year, I started routines and rituals. I got to know my students, and in some cases new curriculum, new materials, new administrators, and/or new colleagues. All I could do was work my heart out each day and come home and sleep. And sleep.
Sometimes, at the start of school, I’d be asleep well before sunset (not kidding) and I wouldn’t move until daybreak. And that would go on maybe two or three weeks. Suddenly, I’d get in the swing of things. I’d be on it. Everything would run smoothly at work, and I’d have plenty of energy to plan ahead, or dance, or date, or take classes, or whatever.
But it always took time. And even though it happened every year like clockwork, I had to be gentle with myself, and do what I needed to do to reach a state of equilibrium with my surroundings.
Except for exercise choices, which are primarily seasonal, my recent changes have not been cyclical. They’ve been positive, yet progressive and persistent. One month after another, there’s been a new spin on things. And I haven’t been very good at stopping to reflect. To do the inner work to harmonize fully with all aspects of my life.
Today’s keynote speaker, Akilah Richards, asked us to consider,
…but how do you want to feel?
And I took the time to sit with that this morning. I journaled about it. I sat in the sunshine. I mulled. I want to feel energized and accomplished. Cheerful. Not superficially, or for a few hours in the morning, but I want these feelings to pervade my day and influence my environment.
At the core I want to BE energy and BE productivity and BE good cheer. I’ve felt that way before. I’ve been those things before. I know how to be that person. I’ll learn how to be those things again, in my new place and under my new conditions.
Distance running didn’t come naturally to me. I’m a sprinter, and have been ever since I outran the neighborhood boys back in grade school. In my 20s, I tried distance running a few times, but it never really stuck. I rarely felt as if I could breathe very well, and my legs always itched. I figured out the solution to both of those things years later – a histamine blocker and pacing.
Yesterday’s run was a good one. This route had manageable hills and after 3 miles, I had energy left, but no time.
It takes me anywhere from a half mile to a mile to get warmed up. During those first 5-10 minutes, I’m looking for a comfortable stride length and finding a good cadence for my breathing. Around mile two I get in a groove. I relax and settle into the run, especially if it’s a familiar route.
The third mile varies. Depending on my level of fitness, I experience fatigue during the first half. I slow down a bit, especially if I was pushing things earlier. Sometimes I start wondering how much longer I have before I arrive at home base.
Unless I’m short on sleep or fuel, I shake it off by the second half of the mile. By then, I’ve gotten my breath back, my legs back, and I’m rocking out. Yet for years, that was the end of the run. Eventually I discovered the magic of mile four.
That fourth mile? That’s the sweet spot. I’m warm. Breaths come and go in energizing rhythms. My stride opens. I’m pushing it until I cross the finish line. The endorphins are in full effect. Life is great.
These days I’m back at 3 because I’m finding new routes and running hilly terrain for the first time. It’s a tough slog, really. Training on hills is more than a notion. I’m looking forward to developing my fitness, and eventually finding 4 sweet again. After that? We’ll see.
My mom was a school librarian for 30 years. She retired before 60 as she began working in her early 20s and never stopped. When she told me she was calling it quits, I teased her all the time. “You’re not ready to retire,” I always said. I couldn’t see this smart, vibrant woman no longer getting up and going to work every day. My picture of retirement was limited to occasional volunteering and philanthropic work. Traveling. All great things she’d done in the past, but things I couldn’t picture her doing in lieu of being in a school library.
By her late 50s she insisted kids had changed so much and librarian duties had evolved into things outside her sphere of interest – she loved books – it simply was no longer her dream job.
As it turns out, she had a plan. A brand new shopping center was going up nearby, and it promised a Barnes & Noble in the line up of big box stores. Every time we drove past the site, she pointed and smiled, sharing her post-retirement dream to work at the bookseller and enjoy the discounts.
She retired and became a part-time media specialist (I knew it!), filling in for those who needed to be out on leave or what have you. But she never did make it behind the counter of the Barnes & Noble. One Memorial Day weekend, she had a heart attack. Less than 24 hours later, she died. That was 2003, the same year that long-awaited store finally opened. It always saddens me to know she missed it.
It’s 2013. That Barnes & Noble recently went the way of many large box booksellers these days – kaput. In fact, July marked the end of its lease, and a wig shop is said to be on the way to take its place.
I know some feel as if the big sellers are getting their just rewards, and if people bought enough books from the brick and mortar stores, they’d still be around anyway. But I don’t have the nostalgia for the community bookseller. We didn’t have one aside from the used book shop in the plaza across from the park. And that plaza has been decrepit for nearly 20 years now.
The Barnes & Noble was our community space. You could scarcely go in it and not see someone you knew. Or if you were going there to work or meet a friend, you had to pray for a space to sit since everyone else was there, too. Lots of wheeling and dealing, coffee sipping, book writing, and studying for exams, story time for children, book signings, and even dates took place in that store. And yes, people bought books, too. And in that mix, nurturing her love of books while helping other people feed theirs? That’s where momma wanted to be.
I’m a runner. After a several month hiatus, I ran a few miles in June of this year, and began running in earnest in July. I was serious about getting back to it. I had stopped earlier in the year due to spending an inordinate amount of time in hotels.
I’m an outdoor runner. Treadmills, while great for me as a new runner, simply irritate me now. Seriously. Staring at wall? Or talking heads? Or those red snaking lights on the console? No.
For some, running is part of a serious training regimen. They’re preparing for races and other sports. Me? I just love the endorphins. Exercising is how I get going in the morning. Many hotels are not situated near runner-friendly territory, and I’m not so dedicated to running that I’ll regularly subject myself to worn-out treadmills and the fight to find a free one.
And so here I was, in a hotel for two nights. As I unloaded my car to check-in, a quick glance confirmed there wasn’t a nice stretch of sidewalk/running path nearby. I’d brought my exercise DVDs so I was set. But I knew I wanted to run. Determined to keep my newly established momentum, I resolved to beat the morning rush and *gag* get my morning miles in on the treadmill.
We shall see. I stopped messing with hotel treadmills long ago. But maybe there’s one available. And that works.
I was proud of myself. And why not? I had a goal and I was well on my way to reaching it. The next day, I stuck to my DVDs. Endorphins flooded my body and all was well. That is until I noticed the sunrise and took a good look out of my window.
Lo and behold, I spotted a sidewalk! Not just any sidewalk, but one alongside a lake! A picturesque, runnable path. And I had missed my opportunity to complete a beautiful outdoor run. Twice.
I couldn’t believe it. I was so focused on “sucking it up” and “sticking to the plan,” that I allowed my previous experiences with other hotels to dampen my curiosity and sense of exploration. I barely looked around before I determined I had no other options. I didn’t even inquire, even though I’d considered doing just that. All because I had convinced myself that what was visible was all there was.
Boy, was I wrong.
That taught me something. It’s great to have a goal in mind and a serious commitment to stick to it. And it’s important to have clear focus so I can dismiss distractions and detractors. But equally important is maintaining an open mind and open heart to be able to explore options that may not be visible to the naked eye. It’s a balancing act. But I’m learning to live in the spaces between focused intention and seeking spirit.
Don’t allow your tunnel vision to block your view of the lake.
