7:10am 75 degrees 4.02 miles 47:16 11:45 pace
One of the weather sites says 100% humidity. I thought that meant it was raining. I'm no meteorologist so I haven't a clue as to what's correct but, dang! It's humid! It also smells like someone's burning a wood pile out there. Or maybe there was a house fire. Whatever. I coughed and "ahem'd" my way through my morning run. I have an inhaler prescription for exercise-induced asthma. Today was the first time in a long time that I felt symptoms and thought about using it pre-run next time.
Excuse me while I go check the air quality on another site...
...The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality says it's all within the "Good" Range. Guess it's just the humidity.
Lately I'm finding myself in a bit of an excuse-making mode. Since completing last year's marathon and taking time off to recover, I honestly haven't wanted to run again. It's a drag. It's time-consuming. It hurts. I got so busy at work that I was overcome with fatigue and couldn't manage a run. My legs felt like lead. I put on 15 of the pounds that I dropped during marathon training. (It's no wonder my legs felt heavy!) I moved and it's not safe to run in my new neighborhood in the very early morning. It's been too hot to run in the evenings.
Here's the thing about running. For me.
I keep depression at bay with what I admit is sheer defiance. When I'm not running, I white knuckle my way through my days. Running not only gives me something to look forward to, I absolutely believe it raises my seratonin levels and acts as a natural antidepressant.
Training for the 2014 Houston Marathon begins next week. I'm feeling more positive about running and more excited about it. I know it's not going to be easy. Last year I didn't use music much while I ran but I tried it again yesterday and I was happy for the diversion. I think there has been so much negative out there pushing it's way into my head and I need to find a way to drown it out. I'll be checking out Itunes for kicky stuff to make me smile while I'm on the trails.
Yeah, yeah. The negative stuff needs to be dealt with. Maybe. Some of it. Some of it will never change. (Going back to my 12 steps again. They come in handy.) Running is for ME! Reworking someone else's garbage during my time, in my running shoes, doesn't seem to be productive or healthy.
I hereby declare this marathon training season mine. I don't need to solve the problems of work or world while I run. I'm going to do my very best to enjoy it.
There! I feel better already. Kind of. :)
©Michelle Scofield, September 15, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Weighed Down with Facts
7:10 am 75 degrees 2.89 miles 35.25 12:17 pace
Ran most of it, walked a small part of it. My legs feel heavy. It's been a rough week emotionally.
I do my best not to carry my work home.
It's not always easy.
(I woke this morning from a dream about a sick patient I can no longer help.)
I need to run more.
It's not easy. It's easier to fall into dinner and a chair after work.
(It's hot as hell and it takes planning and care to go for a run and remain any sort of hydrated.)
Fact. The less I run, the worse I feel.
Fact. The less I run, the harder it is to run.
Fact. When I run, for those thirty to how-ever-many-minutes, my brain goes on a splendorous free association journey and it's rarely at work. Look! A bluejay!
©Michelle Scofield, August 3, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Ran most of it, walked a small part of it. My legs feel heavy. It's been a rough week emotionally.
I do my best not to carry my work home.
It's not always easy.
(I woke this morning from a dream about a sick patient I can no longer help.)
I need to run more.
It's not easy. It's easier to fall into dinner and a chair after work.
(It's hot as hell and it takes planning and care to go for a run and remain any sort of hydrated.)
Fact. The less I run, the worse I feel.
Fact. The less I run, the harder it is to run.
Fact. When I run, for those thirty to how-ever-many-minutes, my brain goes on a splendorous free association journey and it's rarely at work. Look! A bluejay!
©Michelle Scofield, August 3, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, July 6, 2013
The Park
7:45am 82 degrees 3.27 miles 38:25 11:45 pace
No physical pain with my run this morning.
Much to see along the way.
The tiny train wasn't running yet. The zoo isn't open until later this morning. 4 lady geese stood next to the tracks. They seemed to be waiting for a ride.
Just past the fountains, an ancient man in white pants and belted robe silently practiced tai chi sending two massive red fans through swirls and sworls as a chiseled young man sat on a stone bench near him. His head was bowed in what...meditation? anguish? sleep? prayer?
The Park People were rising from their nests. I'm starting to recognize some of them.
I wonder if any of them can achieve real rest out there. In the open. In this heat.
©Michelle Scofield, July 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved
No physical pain with my run this morning.
Much to see along the way.
The tiny train wasn't running yet. The zoo isn't open until later this morning. 4 lady geese stood next to the tracks. They seemed to be waiting for a ride.
Just past the fountains, an ancient man in white pants and belted robe silently practiced tai chi sending two massive red fans through swirls and sworls as a chiseled young man sat on a stone bench near him. His head was bowed in what...meditation? anguish? sleep? prayer?
The Park People were rising from their nests. I'm starting to recognize some of them.
I wonder if any of them can achieve real rest out there. In the open. In this heat.
©Michelle Scofield, July 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Progress - or something along those lines.
3.02 10:57 pace 33:03 minutes 5:15 am
I sat in the endodontist's chair for another hour and a half yesterday afternoon. At the end, she cheerily said, "Your root canal is done. I want you to see your regular dentist within 2 weeks for the permanent filling, or a replacement crown, whichever he thinks is best." I hope he thinks it's just a permanent filling. I'm about at my limit of gutting this dental thing out.
You know that old saying, "I'd rather have a root canal"?
I'd rather have a head to toe MRI. With the room on fire. With ants nibbling at my elbows. With Pearl Jam on the overhead sound system. Loud.
Yeah, that's how I've come to feel about dental visits.
Me. The one who flosses daily and brushes after every meal and at bedtime.
It's about control. I know this. When I'm in the dental chair, I can't see what's going on, I can't talk, I can't even control my own drool. I'm myself imagined in 40 years.
So, anyway. I only have to have the work finished off and then I'm good for another 6 months. Fingers crossed.
I spent a little time in counseling last week and discussed control issues. I continue to give over that which is not mine. It's been a good several days for that.
Boston, Mass.
West, TX.
Life.
Have as good a day as life allows and you accept, my friends. Much love to you. M
©Michelle Scofield, April 23, 2013 All Rights Reserved
I sat in the endodontist's chair for another hour and a half yesterday afternoon. At the end, she cheerily said, "Your root canal is done. I want you to see your regular dentist within 2 weeks for the permanent filling, or a replacement crown, whichever he thinks is best." I hope he thinks it's just a permanent filling. I'm about at my limit of gutting this dental thing out.
You know that old saying, "I'd rather have a root canal"?
I'd rather have a head to toe MRI. With the room on fire. With ants nibbling at my elbows. With Pearl Jam on the overhead sound system. Loud.
Yeah, that's how I've come to feel about dental visits.
Me. The one who flosses daily and brushes after every meal and at bedtime.
It's about control. I know this. When I'm in the dental chair, I can't see what's going on, I can't talk, I can't even control my own drool. I'm myself imagined in 40 years.
So, anyway. I only have to have the work finished off and then I'm good for another 6 months. Fingers crossed.
I spent a little time in counseling last week and discussed control issues. I continue to give over that which is not mine. It's been a good several days for that.
Boston, Mass.
West, TX.
Life.
Have as good a day as life allows and you accept, my friends. Much love to you. M
©Michelle Scofield, April 23, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
(This Life is ) Not Such a Solo Sport
3.12 miles 35.07 11:15 pace 5:30am
The run felt sorrowful and heavy.
I felt alone. I didn't see another runner on my route.
My gut tells me that there were (or will be) tens of thousands of runners lacing up today...
...because.
Others have said it more eloquently than can I.
I had to run.
©Michelle Scofield, April 16, 2013 All Rights Reserved
The run felt sorrowful and heavy.
I felt alone. I didn't see another runner on my route.
My gut tells me that there were (or will be) tens of thousands of runners lacing up today...
...because.
Others have said it more eloquently than can I.
I had to run.
©Michelle Scofield, April 16, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Friday, March 22, 2013
Incidentally
We've all heard about incidental findings:
The kid who is hit by a baseball at Little League and undergoes a scan only to be diagnosed with a benign sinus tumor that is resected and he goes on to live happily ever after.
The woman with the giant thymoma picked up on a preop chest Xray.
The broken axle found when a car is taken in for an oil change.
I've seen all of these. And yeah, that was my car. Once upon a time. I took it to another mechanic to make sure I wasn't being scammed. I wasn't. Damned Texas potholes.
I try not to give too much credit to fate. Or should I say Fate. I like to think that things happen and sometimes we're in the right place at the right time and we find out about them and we can do something about it. I'm not always sure what "right" means. Oh, for a sinus tumor, or a chest mass, or a broken car it's usually fairly clear cut.
Sometimes, though.
It's not.
I lost a friend last year. Rather, I chose to let him go. It was a painful, long-fought decision that came after months of struggle on both our parts. The months following the decision were lonely and I questioned myself. Often. And then the strangest thing happened. People started incidentally coming into my life in different (read: "new") ways. These were people I'd known, I'd spent a little time with, but I hadn't put a lot of energy into friendships because these people didn't require much of me besides enjoying their company. Anyway...
It was as if they were being held up to a viewing box and I was able to examine their qualities more clearly. (When I first started as a PA, I used to have to look at radiographic films that way. Just to clarify things for the young pups reading this.)
These people were present all along but I wasn't as aware of them as I could have been.
I'm sitting here again. In my state of gratitude.
For friends. You were there all along. Thank you for waiting for me to learn to appreciate you. I'll keep working on it. I promise.
p.s. And for the first one of you who thinks I've compared you to a thymoma. No, not exactly. :) Now, hush.
p.p.s. And for my PA classmates. Did reading this make any of you go through the Terrible T's? It did me.
©Michelle Scofield, March 22, 2013 All Rights Reserved
The kid who is hit by a baseball at Little League and undergoes a scan only to be diagnosed with a benign sinus tumor that is resected and he goes on to live happily ever after.
The woman with the giant thymoma picked up on a preop chest Xray.
The broken axle found when a car is taken in for an oil change.
I've seen all of these. And yeah, that was my car. Once upon a time. I took it to another mechanic to make sure I wasn't being scammed. I wasn't. Damned Texas potholes.
I try not to give too much credit to fate. Or should I say Fate. I like to think that things happen and sometimes we're in the right place at the right time and we find out about them and we can do something about it. I'm not always sure what "right" means. Oh, for a sinus tumor, or a chest mass, or a broken car it's usually fairly clear cut.
Sometimes, though.
It's not.
I lost a friend last year. Rather, I chose to let him go. It was a painful, long-fought decision that came after months of struggle on both our parts. The months following the decision were lonely and I questioned myself. Often. And then the strangest thing happened. People started incidentally coming into my life in different (read: "new") ways. These were people I'd known, I'd spent a little time with, but I hadn't put a lot of energy into friendships because these people didn't require much of me besides enjoying their company. Anyway...
It was as if they were being held up to a viewing box and I was able to examine their qualities more clearly. (When I first started as a PA, I used to have to look at radiographic films that way. Just to clarify things for the young pups reading this.)
These people were present all along but I wasn't as aware of them as I could have been.
I'm sitting here again. In my state of gratitude.
For friends. You were there all along. Thank you for waiting for me to learn to appreciate you. I'll keep working on it. I promise.
p.s. And for the first one of you who thinks I've compared you to a thymoma. No, not exactly. :) Now, hush.
p.p.s. And for my PA classmates. Did reading this make any of you go through the Terrible T's? It did me.
©Michelle Scofield, March 22, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Food for Thought
This morning, I spent an hour at the nail salon. It felt wonderful. I try to get in every couple of weeks because I'm so hard on my feet. On clinic days, I'm on them about 10 straight hours. Add running to the mix and it's a set-up for trouble. We wear a lot of sandals in this area and I don't want my tootsies to look gnarly. I don't go for acrylics on my fingernails. Just short and clean but with washing about a hundred-thousand times a day, it's nice to have someone help me keep them in good shape, too.
There were 3 other customers in the shop this morning and were treated to a fashion show, of sorts. (I go to a small, family-owned salon.) One of the nail techs had been to a department store clearance sale and brought in her finds. She paraded in front of us, modeling one after the other of 40% off sale priced items - some of which she bought for a real steal. We smiled and laughed with her sisters and cousins. We cheered her smart shopping.
It was all fun and games until one of her cousins became irritated and turned away, speaking rather harshly. She said that, "Shopping is the only thing that makes her (the cousin) happy." She also said something about, "...they'll only have water, not food."
I'd noticed how exhilarated the model was becoming. Her smile was bigger with each blouse she pulled from her shopping bag, with each garment she tried on for us. She was giggling and twirling. It was something to see.
I felt a familiar tug at that moment. I've felt that same high about food before. And about shopping. And about new relationships. And about taking risks.
Not so now. These days I sometimes find myself worried that I'm becoming...boring. I rarely make purchases unless I've been mulling them over for a very loooooooong time. I'm Ms. "Measure Twice and Cut Once". I went zip-lining a couple weeks ago but you better believe I checked the place out thoroughly prior to doing so and also made sure my insurance was up-to-date.
Safety has replaced Impulse as my Modus Operandi.
As I put these words to screen, I realize that I'm likely just hanging out at the other end of a swinging pendulum and I could stand to move more toward center. What I want for myself is a life less at the extremes. There are few risks (in life or relationships) because I stomp on the brakes before the journey can begin moving down the road.
Stuck isn't where I want to live. Now THIS is food for thought.
©Michelle Scofield, March 2, 2013 All Rights Reserved
There were 3 other customers in the shop this morning and were treated to a fashion show, of sorts. (I go to a small, family-owned salon.) One of the nail techs had been to a department store clearance sale and brought in her finds. She paraded in front of us, modeling one after the other of 40% off sale priced items - some of which she bought for a real steal. We smiled and laughed with her sisters and cousins. We cheered her smart shopping.
It was all fun and games until one of her cousins became irritated and turned away, speaking rather harshly. She said that, "Shopping is the only thing that makes her (the cousin) happy." She also said something about, "...they'll only have water, not food."
I'd noticed how exhilarated the model was becoming. Her smile was bigger with each blouse she pulled from her shopping bag, with each garment she tried on for us. She was giggling and twirling. It was something to see.
I felt a familiar tug at that moment. I've felt that same high about food before. And about shopping. And about new relationships. And about taking risks.
Not so now. These days I sometimes find myself worried that I'm becoming...boring. I rarely make purchases unless I've been mulling them over for a very loooooooong time. I'm Ms. "Measure Twice and Cut Once". I went zip-lining a couple weeks ago but you better believe I checked the place out thoroughly prior to doing so and also made sure my insurance was up-to-date.
Safety has replaced Impulse as my Modus Operandi.
As I put these words to screen, I realize that I'm likely just hanging out at the other end of a swinging pendulum and I could stand to move more toward center. What I want for myself is a life less at the extremes. There are few risks (in life or relationships) because I stomp on the brakes before the journey can begin moving down the road.
Stuck isn't where I want to live. Now THIS is food for thought.
©Michelle Scofield, March 2, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Free Association Run
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 11
Planned Run: 6 miles
6.05 miles 1 hours 7 minutes 11:09 pace
11:00 am 51 degrees. Still raining.
Follow along if you want.
I remember a yoga instructor who had us sit for half an hour once. It was maddening and, in hind-sight, enlightening. She told us to acknowledge any thoughts that arose and then use our mind's eye like the back of our hand to gently guide them away from us. "Just a push. A little nudge."
There weren't a lot of runners out today. Wait. I didn't see a single runner today. Only me. I mean, I saw my shoes. Where was everyone? The gym?
Were the gyms open today? Are they called gyms anymore? The one at work is called the "Fitness Center". I could go there tomorrow if it's too cold to be outside. I'm supposed to run 3 miles tomorrow. I don't really like to workout at work. I like to be away from work.
Nudge.
Pfffttt!!! 3 miles is nothing now. I can get up and do that before work. If it's cold, even better. Cold running improves my metabolism and mine could use some improving.
Gentle now. Back of hand.
I'd like to take up something that works my upper body. I'd love to have a heavy bag to hit here at home but I think it might somehow make a noise that would bother my neighbors below me. The ones I've had noise issues with.
Kindness.
I was up so late last night. My friend, Pam, and I called it a night at 12:30 but the party outside went on until about 4am. I need to move. This place isn't conducive to good sleep. My lease is up in July. It's close to work. Is this the life work I want for myself?
Gentle. Push.
Great. Another big dog. He's loose, with no owner is sight. He might be a friendly fellow or he might land me in hospital. I love dogs and since I started running I'm beginning to fear and curse them. This pisses me off. Turn around. Change route. Stop cursing the dog. He's behind me and he's just being a dog who happens to be owned by someone who doesn't know or care about my fear.
Maybe if I physically move my hand in front of my eyes and push these less-than-positive thoughts from my mind?
There's a guy in a car who sees me do this and he thinks I'm waving at him. He waves at me. That's funny.
Later on, another guy thinks it's funny to splash me by veering close and running through puddles.
Gentle now. Push. Back of hand.
I honestly hope both those guys have a safe drive today. I feel kinder and more loving to the one who waved at me than the one who soaked me with muddy water.
Maybe I'll sit for half an hour or so this afternoon. Couldn't hurt.
©Michelle Scofield, January 1, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Planned Run: 6 miles
6.05 miles 1 hours 7 minutes 11:09 pace
11:00 am 51 degrees. Still raining.
Follow along if you want.
I remember a yoga instructor who had us sit for half an hour once. It was maddening and, in hind-sight, enlightening. She told us to acknowledge any thoughts that arose and then use our mind's eye like the back of our hand to gently guide them away from us. "Just a push. A little nudge."
There weren't a lot of runners out today. Wait. I didn't see a single runner today. Only me. I mean, I saw my shoes. Where was everyone? The gym?
Were the gyms open today? Are they called gyms anymore? The one at work is called the "Fitness Center". I could go there tomorrow if it's too cold to be outside. I'm supposed to run 3 miles tomorrow. I don't really like to workout at work. I like to be away from work.
Nudge.
Pfffttt!!! 3 miles is nothing now. I can get up and do that before work. If it's cold, even better. Cold running improves my metabolism and mine could use some improving.
Gentle now. Back of hand.
I'd like to take up something that works my upper body. I'd love to have a heavy bag to hit here at home but I think it might somehow make a noise that would bother my neighbors below me. The ones I've had noise issues with.
Kindness.
I was up so late last night. My friend, Pam, and I called it a night at 12:30 but the party outside went on until about 4am. I need to move. This place isn't conducive to good sleep. My lease is up in July. It's close to work. Is this the life work I want for myself?
Gentle. Push.
Great. Another big dog. He's loose, with no owner is sight. He might be a friendly fellow or he might land me in hospital. I love dogs and since I started running I'm beginning to fear and curse them. This pisses me off. Turn around. Change route. Stop cursing the dog. He's behind me and he's just being a dog who happens to be owned by someone who doesn't know or care about my fear.
Maybe if I physically move my hand in front of my eyes and push these less-than-positive thoughts from my mind?
There's a guy in a car who sees me do this and he thinks I'm waving at him. He waves at me. That's funny.
Later on, another guy thinks it's funny to splash me by veering close and running through puddles.
Gentle now. Push. Back of hand.
I honestly hope both those guys have a safe drive today. I feel kinder and more loving to the one who waved at me than the one who soaked me with muddy water.
Maybe I'll sit for half an hour or so this afternoon. Couldn't hurt.
©Michelle Scofield, January 1, 2013 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, December 22, 2012
...Air That I Breathe
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 21
Training Schedule 20 miles, My plan for today 4 or 5 miles
4.47 miles 52:28 11:44 pace
8:20 AM 38 degrees
I had no pain in my right heel yesterday. Zip. Zero. Nil.
My head was another story. I'd been battling a headache (what was it, a migraine?) for days. It seems like everyone I've come across has had some kind of sniffly/sinus/headachy something. I didn't really feel sick. No fevers and no more sneezing or congestion than usual for me living in what sometimes feels like the pollen and mold capital of North America.
I've had a raging case of insomnia - probably the worst I've ever experienced in my life. I fall asleep in my chair around 8:00 each night (wow, ghost of my dad much?) and fall into bed exhausted by 8:30. Then I wake up around 1:00 or 2:00 and can't get back to sleep until 3:30 or 4:00. My alarm slams me into the start of each day at 6:00 and I drag myself to the shower to lather, rinse, and repeat. This has been going on for about 2 weeks. About as long as I've backed way off my running.
Cause and Effect. Yeah. That didn't take a licensed medical professional to figure out. But I did.
I had to start moving again.
I bought a weighted hula hoop. Not childs' play, that one. I broke a fingernail with it. Yes, I did. Go ahead and laugh. I did. I'm also gauging the amount of core workout I'm getting by the amount of soreness I'm feeling. I'm guessing it's a lot. I listen to 60's surfer music while I use it. Only seems right.
So, back to today's run. My headache was gone. Yay! My heel didn't hurt. Yay! It was cold and the sun was shining so bright I needed my shades. With the first few steps, I felt stiffness at my heel but not pain. I took it slow and easy. I ran around the little FakeLake out here in Stepford.
I didn't take music with me. All I needed was:
The cool air moving in and out of my lungs. It swept last week's stress from my body. Yes - I think that way and it works for me.
Happy thoughts. (Wow, this woman really IS reaching!) Wait, I mean it. I felt so bombarded with negativity last week that I let the positive sit unappreciated. I have many, many things for which to be grateful at this time. This morning I let them cycle freely through my mind, lingering in a hazy daydream, and I allowed myself to spend that time being appreciative for my family, for my friends, for the lessons I learned this week, for my health, for silly bursts of laughter, for an upcoming vacation, for risks.
Big birds sitting on stumps in the water. They didn't move. They just sat there. I wondered if they were thinking, or sleeping, or what (?). Anyway, they were beautiful and for a moment I wished I had my camera but I'm kind of glad I didn't. I think if I had stopped they might have flown away and that's not what was supposed to happen today. For any of us.
©Michelle Scofield, Dec. 22, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Training Schedule 20 miles, My plan for today 4 or 5 miles
4.47 miles 52:28 11:44 pace
8:20 AM 38 degrees
I had no pain in my right heel yesterday. Zip. Zero. Nil.
My head was another story. I'd been battling a headache (what was it, a migraine?) for days. It seems like everyone I've come across has had some kind of sniffly/sinus/headachy something. I didn't really feel sick. No fevers and no more sneezing or congestion than usual for me living in what sometimes feels like the pollen and mold capital of North America.
I've had a raging case of insomnia - probably the worst I've ever experienced in my life. I fall asleep in my chair around 8:00 each night (wow, ghost of my dad much?) and fall into bed exhausted by 8:30. Then I wake up around 1:00 or 2:00 and can't get back to sleep until 3:30 or 4:00. My alarm slams me into the start of each day at 6:00 and I drag myself to the shower to lather, rinse, and repeat. This has been going on for about 2 weeks. About as long as I've backed way off my running.
Cause and Effect. Yeah. That didn't take a licensed medical professional to figure out. But I did.
I had to start moving again.
I bought a weighted hula hoop. Not childs' play, that one. I broke a fingernail with it. Yes, I did. Go ahead and laugh. I did. I'm also gauging the amount of core workout I'm getting by the amount of soreness I'm feeling. I'm guessing it's a lot. I listen to 60's surfer music while I use it. Only seems right.
So, back to today's run. My headache was gone. Yay! My heel didn't hurt. Yay! It was cold and the sun was shining so bright I needed my shades. With the first few steps, I felt stiffness at my heel but not pain. I took it slow and easy. I ran around the little FakeLake out here in Stepford.
I didn't take music with me. All I needed was:
The cool air moving in and out of my lungs. It swept last week's stress from my body. Yes - I think that way and it works for me.
Happy thoughts. (Wow, this woman really IS reaching!) Wait, I mean it. I felt so bombarded with negativity last week that I let the positive sit unappreciated. I have many, many things for which to be grateful at this time. This morning I let them cycle freely through my mind, lingering in a hazy daydream, and I allowed myself to spend that time being appreciative for my family, for my friends, for the lessons I learned this week, for my health, for silly bursts of laughter, for an upcoming vacation, for risks.
Big birds sitting on stumps in the water. They didn't move. They just sat there. I wondered if they were thinking, or sleeping, or what (?). Anyway, they were beautiful and for a moment I wished I had my camera but I'm kind of glad I didn't. I think if I had stopped they might have flown away and that's not what was supposed to happen today. For any of us.
©Michelle Scofield, Dec. 22, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, December 16, 2012
It Pours
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 27
Planned run: Training Schedule 14 miles (in my head? Maybe 5?)
Actual run: 0
Last week was rough.
Thursday, I finally did some dedicated reading on Overtraining Syndrome. I checked off headaches, stomach upset, irritability, and insomnia. When I read about the "compulsion to train", I laughed until I cried. Literally. Not a good day.
Last night I went to sleep telling myself a bedtime story that went something like this. I'd get up in the morning, put on my running gear and run. Just 5 miles. If I felt great, 7. If I felt really great, I'd go the 14.
Here's reality: I woke every hour or two and flexed my right ankle, feeling the pull on my Achilles tendon. (I've been participating in this insomniac stretch for weeks.) When I finally turned to look at my alarm clock at 7:30 and stepped onto the floor I felt my heels protest. Ouch.
I can't run today. My feet can't take the pounding of the pavement.
Now it's raining. In the last couple of days, I've watched a bazillion episodes of LA Ink and I've about decided which tattoo I'll get. (The last sentence is to see if my kids are paying attention. Ha!) I've also watched 3 episodes of Christmas at South Park. I'm trying not to be bored and I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself.
I've also been trying not to think of those little kids and teachers who were gunned down in Connecticut. But how can I not? As I type this I think the best thing is for me TO think of them, to get out of my self-involved little world for as long as it takes today. There is no reason, no cause, no errand, no duty more pressing than for me to simply sit quietly with no music, no books, no light, no sound other than the raindrops hitting my window and to think of those humans who lived, who laughed, who breathed, who ran, who played, who smiled. Today I'll be quiet and I'll honor them. And I'll cry.
©Michelle Scofield, Dec. 16, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Planned run: Training Schedule 14 miles (in my head? Maybe 5?)
Actual run: 0
Last week was rough.
Thursday, I finally did some dedicated reading on Overtraining Syndrome. I checked off headaches, stomach upset, irritability, and insomnia. When I read about the "compulsion to train", I laughed until I cried. Literally. Not a good day.
Last night I went to sleep telling myself a bedtime story that went something like this. I'd get up in the morning, put on my running gear and run. Just 5 miles. If I felt great, 7. If I felt really great, I'd go the 14.
Here's reality: I woke every hour or two and flexed my right ankle, feeling the pull on my Achilles tendon. (I've been participating in this insomniac stretch for weeks.) When I finally turned to look at my alarm clock at 7:30 and stepped onto the floor I felt my heels protest. Ouch.
I can't run today. My feet can't take the pounding of the pavement.
Now it's raining. In the last couple of days, I've watched a bazillion episodes of LA Ink and I've about decided which tattoo I'll get. (The last sentence is to see if my kids are paying attention. Ha!) I've also watched 3 episodes of Christmas at South Park. I'm trying not to be bored and I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself.
I've also been trying not to think of those little kids and teachers who were gunned down in Connecticut. But how can I not? As I type this I think the best thing is for me TO think of them, to get out of my self-involved little world for as long as it takes today. There is no reason, no cause, no errand, no duty more pressing than for me to simply sit quietly with no music, no books, no light, no sound other than the raindrops hitting my window and to think of those humans who lived, who laughed, who breathed, who ran, who played, who smiled. Today I'll be quiet and I'll honor them. And I'll cry.
©Michelle Scofield, Dec. 16, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Working My Mind (out)
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 6, Day 4
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 87
Planned activity: 3 mile run
5:20am 71 degrees
3.02 miles 32:55 minutes Avg page 10:54 min/mile
I absolutely, positively did not want to run this morning. I turned off my alarm and stayed in bed through the radio news and the weather. I listened to the traffic report. I finally threw back the covers and groaned my way through getting dressed and out the door.
My right foot/heel/ankle still hurts. It's not so bad once I get going. (I'm still doing my stretching/strengthening/rolling/icing work.)
My body and my mind are tired. It's hard to keep up with the caloric needs right now. Someone at work asked me if I'd lost weight over the weekend. Probably. (Truth be told, I can still stand to lose a pound or ten. I'm simply hungry all the time.)
I'm learning a new electronic medical record-keeping task at my job. Enough said about that.
I've made a decision regarding an unhealthy friendship. I know in my head that it was the right thing to do. My heart doesn't always agree with me. My head wins. My head is smarter and has watched my heart ache too many years.
So my body didn't want to run today.
I feel better after those 3 little miles - at least my mind does. My right foot will tell you after it gets out of this ice bath.
©Michelle Scofield, October 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 87
Planned activity: 3 mile run
5:20am 71 degrees
3.02 miles 32:55 minutes Avg page 10:54 min/mile
I absolutely, positively did not want to run this morning. I turned off my alarm and stayed in bed through the radio news and the weather. I listened to the traffic report. I finally threw back the covers and groaned my way through getting dressed and out the door.
My right foot/heel/ankle still hurts. It's not so bad once I get going. (I'm still doing my stretching/strengthening/rolling/icing work.)
My body and my mind are tired. It's hard to keep up with the caloric needs right now. Someone at work asked me if I'd lost weight over the weekend. Probably. (Truth be told, I can still stand to lose a pound or ten. I'm simply hungry all the time.)
I'm learning a new electronic medical record-keeping task at my job. Enough said about that.
I've made a decision regarding an unhealthy friendship. I know in my head that it was the right thing to do. My heart doesn't always agree with me. My head wins. My head is smarter and has watched my heart ache too many years.
So my body didn't want to run today.
I feel better after those 3 little miles - at least my mind does. My right foot will tell you after it gets out of this ice bath.
©Michelle Scofield, October 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Astral Apparition
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 4, Day 3
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 101
Planned activity: Rest
Fear of Fall(ing)
Orion thought nothing of it.
It was his mission.
He marched across months of late summer mornings and finally pointed toward the waning moon and declared,
“Let go!”
©Michelle Scofield, October 3, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 101
Planned activity: Rest
Fear of Fall(ing)
Orion thought nothing of it.
It was his mission.
He marched across months of late summer mornings and finally pointed toward the waning moon and declared,
“Let go!”
©Michelle Scofield, October 3, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Adjustments
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 4, Day 2
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 102
Planned activity: 3 mile run
5:15 am 62 degrees
3:03 miles 32:34 Avg 10:45 min/mile
I'm juggling this week's schedule. It was supposed to look like this:
Monday: Rest
Tuesday: 3 miles
Wednesday 4 miles
Thursday 3 miles
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 9 miles
Sunday: Cross Train
I'm considering doing 4 tomorrow and then 3 sometime later in the week. Maybe. Possibly. Physical Therapy last night was Hard. Notice the capital "H"? I would have used Torture but that seems too Dramatic.
I was wiped out from getting up so early in the morning and I'm experiencing fatigue in my right calf. I know it's because we're loading that group of muscles and asking them to do more. I know it's normal. I also know I'm a little grouchy as a result. It's worth the work. It's worth the discomfort. I know this in my head but my body is a feeler not a knower.
I'll keep adjusting. I've certainly adjusted my diet and social schedule. My sleep schedule is almost laughable. It's easily comparable with any toddler or geriatric person you can think of.
In the midst or work and running and a wedding and PT, I have a little creative writing to do. It's pushing at me from that area right behind my eyes. It's been trying to get out for about 3 days now. I've been pushing back, not wanting to deal with it. I guess I'll have to. I ran without music or noise in my ears today and the writing almost screamed at me. I don't know when I'll find the time but it's just one more adjustment to make in this packed week of activity. I can do it. I always do.
©Michelle Scofield, October 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 102
Planned activity: 3 mile run
5:15 am 62 degrees
3:03 miles 32:34 Avg 10:45 min/mile
I'm juggling this week's schedule. It was supposed to look like this:
Monday: Rest
Tuesday: 3 miles
Wednesday 4 miles
Thursday 3 miles
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 9 miles
Sunday: Cross Train
I'm considering doing 4 tomorrow and then 3 sometime later in the week. Maybe. Possibly. Physical Therapy last night was Hard. Notice the capital "H"? I would have used Torture but that seems too Dramatic.
I was wiped out from getting up so early in the morning and I'm experiencing fatigue in my right calf. I know it's because we're loading that group of muscles and asking them to do more. I know it's normal. I also know I'm a little grouchy as a result. It's worth the work. It's worth the discomfort. I know this in my head but my body is a feeler not a knower.
I'll keep adjusting. I've certainly adjusted my diet and social schedule. My sleep schedule is almost laughable. It's easily comparable with any toddler or geriatric person you can think of.
In the midst or work and running and a wedding and PT, I have a little creative writing to do. It's pushing at me from that area right behind my eyes. It's been trying to get out for about 3 days now. I've been pushing back, not wanting to deal with it. I guess I'll have to. I ran without music or noise in my ears today and the writing almost screamed at me. I don't know when I'll find the time but it's just one more adjustment to make in this packed week of activity. I can do it. I always do.
©Michelle Scofield, October 2, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Crosstraining the Brain
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 2, Day 7
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 111
Planned activity: CrossTraining
68 degrees 6:30 am
35 minute walk
I hoped for a pretty sunrise today but there wasn't a cloud in the sky to refract the orb and cause a sparkle or a ray. I kept my camera in my pocket until I came back around to my block. That's when I noticed the big drops of dew on the blades of grass and I considered dropping to the ground to try to catch one as it was building up weight and about to fall but I didn't have it in me today. Instead I sat next to a flower bed and found a snail. He wasn't nearly as photogenic as I wished but it was a great lesson in patience.
©Michelle Scofield, September 23, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 111
Planned activity: CrossTraining
68 degrees 6:30 am
35 minute walk
I hoped for a pretty sunrise today but there wasn't a cloud in the sky to refract the orb and cause a sparkle or a ray. I kept my camera in my pocket until I came back around to my block. That's when I noticed the big drops of dew on the blades of grass and I considered dropping to the ground to try to catch one as it was building up weight and about to fall but I didn't have it in me today. Instead I sat next to a flower bed and found a snail. He wasn't nearly as photogenic as I wished but it was a great lesson in patience.
His garden was quiet and calm and damp and smelled surprisingly sweet.
It was a wonderful place to settle in for a few minutes, or twenty.
©Michelle Scofield, September 23, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Body Over Mind Over Body Over...
Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 2, Day 2
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 116
Planned activity: 3 mile run
67 degrees 5:20am
3.01 miles 33:38 11:10/mile average pace
Getting to sleep was Mission Impossible last night. I tried reading. No go. I got up and went to a different room and watched a documentary. Nothing. I finally took a Benadryl sometime after midnight, knowing that my alarm was going to go off at 5. I had a 3 mile run planned today, depending on how my heel felt.
It was sore. My arm is sore. (I had my flu shot yesterday.) Still, I got up and got dressed.
Wow. My heel was a little more painful than it's been as I got into mile one. Should I stop? I didn't want to stop. I have an appointment with an Orthopedic doc tomorrow.
I. Don't. Want. To. Stop.
I feel healthier today than I've felt in years. In my life? Yeah, I can say that. My body is in better shape. My skin looks great. And other than the fact that I wish with most of my social-wishy-lonely-at-times part that I was in a loving partnership with a great man, I'm pretty damned happy. (When you've been in the pit of depression, it's not so hard to see happy. That's MY experience.)
When I'm running, I'm most connected with myself. Or - better yet - occasionally when I'm running, I get into a groove and I'm DISconnected from myself and all I know is the pavement and the breeze and the sun or the moon. When I'm running....HEY! At mile 2, my heel didn't hurt. I was "aware" of it, but it didn't hurt. I cruised on through mile 3.
Note to self: Make a note for the Doctor. I want to run and I feel better when I do.
©Michelle Scofield, September 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 116
Planned activity: 3 mile run
67 degrees 5:20am
3.01 miles 33:38 11:10/mile average pace
Getting to sleep was Mission Impossible last night. I tried reading. No go. I got up and went to a different room and watched a documentary. Nothing. I finally took a Benadryl sometime after midnight, knowing that my alarm was going to go off at 5. I had a 3 mile run planned today, depending on how my heel felt.
It was sore. My arm is sore. (I had my flu shot yesterday.) Still, I got up and got dressed.
Wow. My heel was a little more painful than it's been as I got into mile one. Should I stop? I didn't want to stop. I have an appointment with an Orthopedic doc tomorrow.
I. Don't. Want. To. Stop.
I feel healthier today than I've felt in years. In my life? Yeah, I can say that. My body is in better shape. My skin looks great. And other than the fact that I wish with most of my social-wishy-lonely-at-times part that I was in a loving partnership with a great man, I'm pretty damned happy. (When you've been in the pit of depression, it's not so hard to see happy. That's MY experience.)
When I'm running, I'm most connected with myself. Or - better yet - occasionally when I'm running, I get into a groove and I'm DISconnected from myself and all I know is the pavement and the breeze and the sun or the moon. When I'm running....HEY! At mile 2, my heel didn't hurt. I was "aware" of it, but it didn't hurt. I cruised on through mile 3.
Note to self: Make a note for the Doctor. I want to run and I feel better when I do.
©Michelle Scofield, September 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Sunday Morning Check-In
I'm a big fan of Sunday mornings. There is usually no street noise so I wake up when my body tells me I've had enough sleep, not when some big truck beep-beeps it's backup alarm or when my own bedside alarm rouses me. Even though I tell myself I can sleep late, I'm almost always awake by 7.
I'm practically forced to move slow on Sundays. Most stores don't open until around noon. My best friend isn't an early riser so even if we have something planned for the day, I know it won't be until late morning or on into the afternoon. When I started exercising again, I made Sunday my LongWalk day. I'd take my camera and stop for whatever caught my eye.
Now that I'm running again, I use Sundays as my SlowRun day. I no longer take my camera along but I try to run at a slower pace and I intentionally set out to get the most from my run. (During the week, I'm just trying to cover the miles/minutes, get them done and get to work by 7:30.)
By "get the most" I mean I try to fit a lot into the run without stressing about it. I start off by paying attention to how my body really FEELS. Am I sore in one particular area? Are my shoulders too tight? How does my stride feel? I take the time to shake out my upper extremities, to adjust my steps. Giving the start of my run a few minutes for body mechanics has helped me build endurance and makes for a more pleasant experience. Going through that little check allows me to let go of the feeling that exercise is work/hard/painful/a hassle and then I can move on in a state of relaxation, listening to a podcast, taking in the view around me, or exchanging "good mornings" with the people I meet on the road.
For over a year, Sunday mornings were particularly painful for me. My dad and I had a ritual of me calling him and we'd catch up on the week. I waited until after 10am to call because he was in California. We often talked during the week (if some issue came up), but Sunday was for chatting, for advising, for letting each other know that we had time to spare for each other. After he died, I missed those phone calls as much as I missed anything else - maybe more than anything else. So many hours of our relationship were poured into those Sunday mornings. The quiet of not speaking to him was dreadful.
I endured quite a few months of painful, sorrowful Sundays.
I'm not sure when I moved out of dreading Sundays and into appreciating them again. I only know that I moved. I give credit to my camera, my running shoes, and also to allowing myself to Feel. More than anything - to allowing myself to Feel. At some point, I checked in with myself, made an assessment and decided that life is (at times) work/hard/painful/a hassle and I moved on.
It's nice to know that once the Sunday run is done I can also move on with the remainder of the day at whatever pace I choose. I can do as little or as much as I want. In my own time. (I need to remember this the next time I complain about being single.)
Here's to the Sunday of your choosing, whether it be active, quiet, calm, restful...whatever. I'm still on track, still moving, and I appreciate the words of support I get here. If you're stuck, consider checking in with yourself. It can be the most painful/wonderful/rewarding way to move on that you can ever imagine. I highly recommend it. With feeling.
©Michelle Scofield, July 29, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I'm practically forced to move slow on Sundays. Most stores don't open until around noon. My best friend isn't an early riser so even if we have something planned for the day, I know it won't be until late morning or on into the afternoon. When I started exercising again, I made Sunday my LongWalk day. I'd take my camera and stop for whatever caught my eye.
Now that I'm running again, I use Sundays as my SlowRun day. I no longer take my camera along but I try to run at a slower pace and I intentionally set out to get the most from my run. (During the week, I'm just trying to cover the miles/minutes, get them done and get to work by 7:30.)
By "get the most" I mean I try to fit a lot into the run without stressing about it. I start off by paying attention to how my body really FEELS. Am I sore in one particular area? Are my shoulders too tight? How does my stride feel? I take the time to shake out my upper extremities, to adjust my steps. Giving the start of my run a few minutes for body mechanics has helped me build endurance and makes for a more pleasant experience. Going through that little check allows me to let go of the feeling that exercise is work/hard/painful/a hassle and then I can move on in a state of relaxation, listening to a podcast, taking in the view around me, or exchanging "good mornings" with the people I meet on the road.
For over a year, Sunday mornings were particularly painful for me. My dad and I had a ritual of me calling him and we'd catch up on the week. I waited until after 10am to call because he was in California. We often talked during the week (if some issue came up), but Sunday was for chatting, for advising, for letting each other know that we had time to spare for each other. After he died, I missed those phone calls as much as I missed anything else - maybe more than anything else. So many hours of our relationship were poured into those Sunday mornings. The quiet of not speaking to him was dreadful.
I endured quite a few months of painful, sorrowful Sundays.
I'm not sure when I moved out of dreading Sundays and into appreciating them again. I only know that I moved. I give credit to my camera, my running shoes, and also to allowing myself to Feel. More than anything - to allowing myself to Feel. At some point, I checked in with myself, made an assessment and decided that life is (at times) work/hard/painful/a hassle and I moved on.
It's nice to know that once the Sunday run is done I can also move on with the remainder of the day at whatever pace I choose. I can do as little or as much as I want. In my own time. (I need to remember this the next time I complain about being single.)
Here's to the Sunday of your choosing, whether it be active, quiet, calm, restful...whatever. I'm still on track, still moving, and I appreciate the words of support I get here. If you're stuck, consider checking in with yourself. It can be the most painful/wonderful/rewarding way to move on that you can ever imagine. I highly recommend it. With feeling.
©Michelle Scofield, July 29, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Surface Tension
I work in a busy clinic. I live in the busiest part of my town. I've been known to go to sleep with pillows over my head. To escape, I walk. I walk miles and miles and then I walk more.
I rarely have music with me. No headphones. Oh, I have music playing in my head. I wish it was the last sweet song I heard on a long car ride home. More likely it's from some ridiculous commercial. I'd like to smack that Jack In The Box guy in the head. Just once. Jumbaca? Really? Of all the stupid jingles I've heard in my life, this one has convinced me more than any never to purchase anything from that company. Anyway...
I try to walk in relative silence: listening for my footsteps, for calling birds, for rustling leaves, for anything that signals life to me. It seems that when I attempt to listen past the cars and airplanes, past city noise and on to nature, I reach a point where I am no longer attempting. I move past reaching for soothing sound and I am open to receiving other calming sensation. Often it comes in the form of visual beauty. This feels like a form of disappearing and it feels marvelous.
I've found that I can disappear behind the lens of my camera easier than anywhere else. There (focused on something beautiful), I lose track of time. I don't hear inane commercials. I don't worry about what's for dinner later - when I'm most likely alone. My mind shuts down and I move in on one single object for as long as it takes.
I love to photograph water dropping off of almost any surface. I can't tell when the shot will "happen". It may never. Sometimes I stand up straight, look around and long to ask someone, "Do you see that?" Isn't it beautiful? The tension is almost as beautiful as the subject. Maybe you have to be there.
©Michelle Scofield, January 10, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I rarely have music with me. No headphones. Oh, I have music playing in my head. I wish it was the last sweet song I heard on a long car ride home. More likely it's from some ridiculous commercial. I'd like to smack that Jack In The Box guy in the head. Just once. Jumbaca? Really? Of all the stupid jingles I've heard in my life, this one has convinced me more than any never to purchase anything from that company. Anyway...
I try to walk in relative silence: listening for my footsteps, for calling birds, for rustling leaves, for anything that signals life to me. It seems that when I attempt to listen past the cars and airplanes, past city noise and on to nature, I reach a point where I am no longer attempting. I move past reaching for soothing sound and I am open to receiving other calming sensation. Often it comes in the form of visual beauty. This feels like a form of disappearing and it feels marvelous.
I've found that I can disappear behind the lens of my camera easier than anywhere else. There (focused on something beautiful), I lose track of time. I don't hear inane commercials. I don't worry about what's for dinner later - when I'm most likely alone. My mind shuts down and I move in on one single object for as long as it takes.
I love to photograph water dropping off of almost any surface. I can't tell when the shot will "happen". It may never. Sometimes I stand up straight, look around and long to ask someone, "Do you see that?" Isn't it beautiful? The tension is almost as beautiful as the subject. Maybe you have to be there.
©Michelle Scofield, January 10, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Saturday, May 22, 2010
How Is Your Tenacity?
How is your tenacity? Do you hang on, or will you be shaken? I suggest you be shaken.
This morning I spent the better part of fifteen minutes pulling tiny burrs out of a picnic blanket. A group of us attended an outdoors performance of Puccini’s “Tosca” last night and when we arrived at the large grassy hill and claimed our spot I quickly realized that I’d carried with me several hundred hitchhikers from the Art Car Parade a couple weeks ago. After a quick glance at the little offenders, it became evident that they were dug in and wouldn’t budge with a shake of the blanket. The sweet grade-schooler in our party said they were only “bumpy” and didn’t really cause a bother. She was correct.
We enjoyed a beautiful late spring night in the park and I tossed the blanket in the laundry room when I arrived home, not thinking much about it until this morning when I realized I’d have to remove as many of the burrs by hand as possible before I washed it or it would end up a matted mess when it came out of the machine.
Removing them wasn’t unpleasant. They weren’t the big, pointy kind that pricks your fingers. It was just something that had to be done unless I wanted to throw the blanket out. I didn’t. Too many memories or fun times are wrapped up in that blanket. I keep it in my car for events just like last night. Houston is full of opportunities to share a meal outside with friends, or gaze at the stars while an orchestra plays, or just sit and talk. We live in a wonderful city for such things.
While I was picking those little burrs off the blanket I thought back to my own days in grade school when I learned how organisms and plants develop survival methods. Whatever seed was inside those heavily armored and pointy burrs had worked very hard to survive. Maybe I’d helped it along the way, carrying it from Allen Parkway and dropping one of its progeny along my route. Maybe it’s a noxious weed. Probably. One thing is for certain. It holds on.
Which brings me to Tosca, and me, and maybe you.
The character Floria Tosca (for those of you who aren’t familiar) carried herself as a strong woman. She was a prominent singer, even famous in her community. She fought off the advances of the Chief of Police and through the entire opera argued with her true love over her own jealousy which was oddly misplaced because the object of her affection was not cheating on Tosca. He was working on a religious painting, and if Tosca was anything, she was a church-going gal. She was one tenacious (read: “clingy”) woman. She held onto an idea and clutched it for all it was worth. She just kept going…and going. I won’t ruin the story for you, but I will tell you that if you want a classic opera experience, go see this one by Puccini.
Tosca, the singer, would annoy the hell out of me if she was my friend. I’d probably tell her to snap out of it. That kind of tenacity doesn’t get you very far. It doesn’t allow for optimal growth. If you’re lucky enough to fall into some random soil, great! Grow for all you’re worth but I think you may be in for being stuck, for being carried along on someone else’s blanket.
Today:
Letting go. Softening. Lying ON the blanket instead of being stuck to it – or worse yet, under it. That, my friend, is suffocation.
©Michelle Scofield, May 22, 2010 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Consent for Continuum
<---------------------------------------------->
Expecting A and receiving R, sending L and understanding that it was perceived as D. Do we stay stuck at our point on the line or adjust toward that where we actually landed? Events happen that are beyond our wants, our controls, our expectations. We are not firmly planted on any singly point. We may attempt to shore up a foundation around us and pile anything that may anchor us to our claimed positon, but the winds may blow, the waters may rise, or if we're lucky, we may spot something interesting on the horizon that lures us to venture further down the road and take a look, leaving behind that which held us firm.
The new point of landing can be unfamiliar and uncomfortable for a time. Nothing seems to fit, the temperature isn't right. I choose to examine my place on the continuum and learn from my new position. I give consent to move along the continuum, knowing that there are hazards and risks, but the benefits exceed the complications of such.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Emergence
As spring makes itself known again on the Gulfcoast, pollen scatters over the city and declares that the most popular automobile color will be yellow for the next few weeks. I find myself stretching toward the sun with the determination of a lily - or an iris - that's waited quietly for the right moment to show my true self to the world.
I am once again alive - purple, red, blue, piercing white. I flutter in the breeze that turns me toward each next wonder. Mockingbirds chatter across the branches of magnolias, sounding certain in their call to each other, no hesitation in their communication. A boy and his father hold hands as they walk down the street. The boy is careful to jump over the cracks and the father lifts him slightly with each little hop. A heron stands on one leg in the bayou. Water swirls around him in tiny eddies. I think, "How long he will be there?" He lifts his wings and swoops away, under the bridge and out of my sight.
Leaning against a birch I feel my own contrast with the bark, the earth, and the sky. Inhaling, the bright blue of the early afternoon fills me with a swirling of life that has waited for me patiently for months. The crescent daylight moon catches my eye and welcomes me home.
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