Earlier than usual, or should I say earlier than my new usual, which isn’t that late, but late enough to spy slim fingers of sunlight. Being out there in the quiet, in the darkness before dawn, reminded me why my old usual was so early.
It’s black then. Nearly silent. Almost nothing stirring but, without a doubt, the sun is on her way. I can hear my own thoughts, feel my own feelings, uninterrupted by the ever widening group of passersby.
Each new moment a minute closer to sunrise. Full of possibility.
II.
At 6pm I am brave.
I am energized and full of plans for the morning.
I will run, before daybreak At the promise of the day In the darkness before dawn
III.
At 9pm, the sun has gone, and I am second-guessing my big plans.
Surely I don’t want to run first thing on a Monday? Do I?
But, just in case, I pull out my cold gear – running tights and all the rest.
Because even though my courage waned with the light, there is still time to sleep and wake up brave once more, and smile hello to hope.
“I’ll be back,” I’d told my Floridian friends. “I’m not sure if it’ll be five years or ten, but at some point, I’ll be back.”
Sam remembered.
At first, I actively counted down the years until we could go back. But eventually, I found myself in a groove, no longer X-ing days off my calendar.
Sooner than I expected, opportunity and circumstance coincided, and we decided that the time was now.
So here we are, surrounded by boxes and tape and markers, finalizing all the things one must make final before picking up a life and moving it elsewhere.
In just over two weeks, we’ll be making our way back to the land of sun.
I run three days a week (I cross train with weights or rest on the others).
Some seasons I go more often and once in a while, I’ll go less. Last July I decided to beg off running for a bit. I switched to short runs, or none at all, and favored heavier weights and more rest instead.
As it turns out, the cardio (plus plenty of water) helped my blood pressure more than I knew, so by winter it was time to get real miles back in the mix. I returned to my favorite discipline in December, and have been increasing my mileage since.
Snap from today’s 4-miler. Mid 30s, but not a lot of runners come out on early winter Mondays.
I’ve run for years. Almost always outside, with the exception of serious cold (below 20° F) or heavy rain. It’s beauty seeking. It’s meditation. It’s goal setting and personal bests. It’s deep thinking. It’s #selfcare. It’s me time. I love it.
Depending on what’s going on in my life, I alter the timing, types and frequency of runs. But I’m getting those miles – usually outside. With all of that, I don’t necessarily advocate running. It’s not for everyone. Instead, I advocate movement. Something sustainable and just right for you. Something motivating, invigorating, pleasurable in one way or another. That may be dance, swimming, walking, tennis, boxing, hula hooping, rugby, whatever.
Work your heart, strengthen those muscles, look better naked. 👀 At least feel better anyway. And that counts for quite a lot.
The skies of north Georgia are beautiful. I admit this freely now. I often stop to photograph daybreak and dawn, sunset, dusk and twilight.
As a Georgia native, there were many things I enjoyed outdoors growing up, but I can’t recall appreciating the sky on the fringes of day.
Florida was a different story. I lived there off and on for many years, and 2009 is the first time I recall pausing at the sight of the setting sun.
Driving across a bridge, I witnessed the huge orb sinking below the horizon. Once bright blue sky, now dotted with clouds and awash in orange and purple and pink, I wanted to pull over in awe. Instead I offered prayers of appreciation. I couldn’t believe my good fortune to live amidst such beauty.
Soon after that I created a habit of being outside for sunrise and sunset whenever possible. Backdrops of water were nice, but not required. I ran at first light, and evenings I journaled, took pictures, or simply witnessed beauty.
One day the sunset was so majestic, I rushed back to my apartment to grab my phone. I absolutely had to to share it with my new guy friend, Blue. Serendipitous moment, as he saw a similarly beautiful sunset 500 miles away. He performed some over the shoulder acrobatics to capture his for me. Our sunset texts arrived moments apart.
Yesterday’s midday cloud cover.
The symbolism of our spontaneous exchange was sweet. But I didn’t picture myself appreciating the Georgia sun quite the same as in Florida.
Soon enough, I moved back to the Peach State and I missed Florida’s beauty for months. I was homesick for its breathtaking views, and I did not have a heart of appreciation for my current circumstances.
Finally I remembered I could seek beauty wherever I was. It was easy to find once I looked.
Within days I gave Mother Nature some credit for the green trees everywhere I looked. Later on I found the many birdsongs quite cheerful. I noticed and enjoyed new fragrances and sounds during my outdoor runs. And yes, the sunrises and sunsets were beautiful after all. Even the midday clouds capture my attention now.
The beauty has always been here. Now my heart can see it.
At the last new moon, I wrote a list of intentions. Taken together they mean, vibrate higher.
Vibrate higher.
Boost energy, joy, hope.
Be more powerful, and lighter at the same damn time.
Float, fly, soar,
on your own terms.
From the inside.
In your cells.
Spirit. Breath. Light.
High vibration is goddess energy. It is magic stirring.
When I neglect pleasure and beauty rituals,
when I consume nonfood instead of divine nourishment,
when I am not salt bathing or sunbathing, or
any of the things I know to do,
I look around and there I am: stuck, stagnant, heavy.
I feel weak. Powerless.
Even laughs are smaller and too far apart.
I swivel my hips.
With music and with silence.
To the mirror and the wall.
In front of my husband and in empty rooms.
It’s just something I do.
In moments of low vibration, I forget.
Today, in the shower, feeling the music, I swiveled.
It rained forever and a day. Seriously. Forever, then 24 more hours of rain.
It was probably more like a week, but it really seemed the clouds would never cry themselves out.
I run. And while I engage in a variety of exercise programs, running outdoors is my favorite. It’s lovely to watch the sun rise. To smell the flowers and pine trees and whatever else is on my running trail. To listen to birds as they sing, or fight or just say hello. It’s corny. It’s great. I love it. And thanks to The Rain, I couldn’t run. For days. (Forever).
Then The Rain stopped.
The local runners waited a day for The Dry because we knew our trail would be flooded or overrun with unpassable puddles, slick with wet leaves and what have you. So we had to be patient. And on the second dry day we ventured out to brave the probably-still-messy trail.
But the main trail entrance was locked. A big gate chained shut so no cars could get near the trail head.
Not to be outdone, we, and now I really mean me, I took to the street to find another trail head at the nearby park. It would be my first time using this new entrance, so I set off with an adventurous spirit. I found it with little trouble and was on my way. A little muddy, a teeny bit slippery, but I had a nice run on a new path. I managed 4 miles that day.
Then The Rain returned.
Between The Rain and The Dry, it would be another SIX WHOLE DAYS before I could run again. And even then, I had to sneak. On the sixth day, trails were still closed, but the shy sun beckoned and I answered her call. Off I went to put my name on four miles.
In my excitement I started too fast and tired quickly. And if that weren’t enough, I soon came to a puddle I couldn’t pass. It was simply too deep and the grass around it too muddy. I was going to have to call it quits just halfway to my goal. Disappointed, but really glad to be outdoors, I turned around and ran it back in.
In the end I claimed the win. First, for going out and trying my best. And second, for getting some miles. It took twice the grit to get half the distance, but that’s how champions are made.
I fancy myself a runner. Or a jogger, as the case may be. As a general rule, I save my miles for clement weather. Put simply, I do not run in the cold. Pish posh on the mildness of Georgia winters; you can let your chest wheeze for an after inhaling frigid air. There are exceptions to my no winter running rule, but more often than not, I hang up my running shoes in November, and pull them out again around March.
I spend the intervening months exercising with a DVD program. When I travel, I take it along. Unless I forget, which is the case at present. En route to the airport yesterday, I realized I packed everything I needed to do PiYo except the PiYo DVDs. Massive side eye to me.
There was no turning back at that point in the journey, and with my destination’s forecast promising sunshine and nice temps, I wondered if I might not run after all.
I’ll skip the part about why I didn’t run this morning, and jump right to the good news: I ran today! And it was challenging, and I had to stop often because of runner’s itch, which sucks. A lot. And blah blah blah, eventually, I hit my 2-mile goal! On a treadmill, no less.
I’m already sore, which is not happy-making. But I am very pleased, which is! The first of spring remains my official target to resume a running regimen, but it’s nice to have unexpected wins.
It’s not winter yet, but Mother Nature has been pushing us to get ready for it. The days are noticeably shorter and unseasonably cold. The weather, along with my recent adventure, has put me in the mood to hibernate. Most mornings (and early evenings), I just want to swaddle myself in a ball and sleep. It’s starting to impact my exercise regimen.
From March to October, I jump out of bed before dawn, ready to log a few of the 40-50 miles I jog each month. I tweak my mileage to allow time for strength training with a barbell and plates. But all of this happens in the warm weather.
Once we’ve entered true fall in north Georgia, I put away the running shoes and opt for indoor cardio. My program of choice has long been Beachbody’s TurboFire. It mixes long, intensive workouts with short, high intensity interval training and strength training with resistance bands. There’s a lot of jumping up and down.
I believe in listening to my body. But lately, when I’ve asked my body to get ready for plyometrics, it has responded with some version of chile please. I haven’t had much of a counter offer, so there I’ve been, snuggled under the cover dozing, instead of running or jumping.
My body seems ready to try something high energy, but low impact, with a lot of stretching. I’ve considered Bikram yoga, for instance. But that involves traveling somewhere, and I don’t like to spend much time in transit for exercise. Plus, despite the generally good reviews, I’ve never really “felt” yoga as exercise. Even though, truth be told, I sometimes naturally perform elements of the sun salutation, just because some of the poses feel organic. So I’m not a yogi, and although I’ve taken a couple of Pilates classes, it never stuck as part of a regular routine.
Enter, PiYo.
PiYo schedule and DVDs.
I shunned this the first couple of times I heard of it namely because of my lukewarm feelings about Pilates and yoga, the main elements of the program. It supposedly takes the best of these two systems and combines them into a high energy, low impact, strength- and flexibility-enhancing program. Sounds like just what the doctor ordered. Zerlina and Lurie, two people I engage with on Twitter, have raved about it. So I’ve decided to give it a shot.
It’s an 8-week program, with workouts 6 days a week. No equipment is required, and I love that, especially given my travel schedule. I completed the first workout today, which was more instructional than anything else, but it was a promising start.
I feel that good way I feel when my blood is moving as it should.
