Back In Brooklyn

I do apologize for the long break in writing but as some of you know, I've been traveling quite a bit, and after taking in the wonders, scents, spices and life changing adventures of Morocco I've been craving sitting still and simply being a Brooklynite. Last night I had a magical evening on TJ's roof with 10 other friends where we ate all sorts of nibblies, had cocktails mixed with Absolut Brooklyn (which might be my new favorite thing) and watched the sun set over the Manhattan skyline. When it started to get dark, we lit candles and chatted and laughed and relaxed in the lazy summer night.

A few houses over, someone set off a bunch of fireworks from his roof and we all ooohed and ahhhed like little children for the few minutes that they blazed in the sky--a common side effect of fireworks. When the sparking hullaballoo was finished we clapped and hooted in appreciation only to hear many pockets of other Brooklynites on their rooftops clapping and hooting as well. We all giggled, thinking we were alone at our rooftop party only to find that everyone in Brooklyn, it seemed, all had the same idea.

After eating a full spread of appetizers and a few pizzas (and a nightcap of TJ's homemade bourbon cherry cocktail) I woke up this morning feeling the need to run off my excesses in the park at 8:30 in the morning. I haven't gone running in close to a year, and the need to get out was so strong that I didn't fight it. I did the whole 5K loop, sometimes walking, sometimes running, but fully proud that I went the whole distance. On the way home I saw a family--a mom a dad and two small towheaded children--sitting on the stoop eating their breakfast of toast and large smile-shaped slices of watermelon. The papa was holding a fancy teacup and saucer which looked Moroccan in its design. Witnessing this calm morning scene, I fell in love with my neighborhood as much as I had the night before.

Henry James said, "One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things." What a double delight to have the sights of Morocco still fresh in my eyes, and the sights of Brooklyn seen anew!

Countdowns

I really feel like Michael, this year's winner on The Biggest Loser, who started out at 530 pounds, and lost 200 in the course of the show. It's so gratifying to see that my number at the upper right corner of this blog now reads 399, which means I'm officially in the 300s!

Let me remind you--I started out at 730.

I never thought that this moment would happen. I'm a breath away from being halfway done with this process and in many ways it went so much more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I can see how much has been accomplished within this time period, how much has changed, and I am bewildered at how that has happened.

Slow and steady does win the race. It's a matter of never giving up, and diligently moving forward even when you'd rather just roll over and go to sleep. I got up this morning at 8am, leapt out of bed, got into my running gear and headed out to the park. The track was nice and shady at that hour, and the park was filled with joggers, bikers, speedwalkers and rollerbladers. I was determined to run a full mile, despite not training for the last two weeks. (It has been too darn hot to move, let alone run.) I imagined Jillian Michaels in my head, relentless and chastising me for the large amounts of pizza I had last night. I ran that full mile, and at the end of it, my heart and lungs were on fire and felt like they were going to burst right out of my chest. I began slowly walking the mile back to find my equilibrium again, and as I did, a very fit, very tan runner went past me and said into my ear, "Lookin' good, Mami!"

Now, I know for darn sure I was not lookin' good at that moment, but I've encountered this lovely code of runners on more than one occasion, where encouragement to keep going, even that extra step, is freely and generously given. It didn't matter that I was a beginner, or that I was struggling, or even that I was a stranger--it was the showing up that counted. Being present in the moment. Doing what you came to do, and knowing that tomorrow it can be better.

As I came back to my apartment, I passed a restaurant with this quote in the window:

"Skill to do comes from doing"--Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Yeah, Ralphie Boy!

Running Class

Tonight was my very first running class! There were about 25 people who showed up for the class and we were divided into two groups--true beginners and slightly more advanced beginners. My trainer Shane (a lively and handsome triathlete) had us walk a mile and then alternate two minutes running with four minutes walking. It was a gorgeous evening and the smell of gardenias and magnolias was so strong in the air--a perfect runner's perfume. At first, the running wasn't nearly as hard as I thought, but for the last two minute run, I felt all this heat rise to my skin, as though my body was trying to get rid of something. My arms turned red, and I started to scratch like crazy, as I tried to help whatever it was that was coming to the surface, to get out, and leave me. I imagine that this is what a snake feels like when it's shedding its skin. It was a heady, primal moment, and it took me a while to cool down.

In the past, I've turned to running as a last resort to rid myself of unpleasant emotions--I've only run when I've been at my most depressed. I can remember running in Binghamton's nature preserve, listening to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" over and over and sprinting until my lungs hurt. But now, this need to run comes from such a different place--strong place, a determined place. I was so proud of myself when I was finished, and I found that I wanted to run more. I realize that this might be a beginner's high but I'll take it. I can't wait to run a real 5K race!

Mother Teresa said, "We can do no great things, only small things with great love. Do not wait for leaders. Do it alone, person to person."

Or step by step, as the case may be.

Perfect 10

We're at the 10 month mark and my orthodontist put a wire AND an elastic chain across the top left side of my teeth and another chain across almost all of my bottom teeth. This is all in an effort to move the entire lower string of teeth over to the left, and bring my top teeth towards the middle. It seems like a colossal task, quite frankly. But the fact that my doctor is always so very happy with my progress inspires confidence, and the fortitude to continue for another month.

The teeth hurt, but I'm used to this. It will be fine in a few days. I'm learning to push beyond the boundaries of discomfort lately--something I was never able to do before. I've started doing this with my running, and I am amazed to find a reserve of energy when I think I just can't move forward for one more step. It's not the same kind of energy--it comes from a different place, and has a different feeling--kind of like a backup generator. I never knew that this existed within me before, and I'm just starting to get acquainted with it. It feels somewhat magical to tap into.

I read this in O Magazine recently:

Find Comfort in Discomfort: "Remember it's supposed to hurt, you're supposed to feel sore," says Debbie Ford. She's not talking about just the physical aches and pains of the couch potato turned triathlon competitor, but also the mental and emotional uneasiness of the would-be CEO or aspiring artist. "Accept that you'll never get rid of self-doubt," Todd Kashdan says. "An adventurous person will always have moments of feeling like a fraud--it's a sign that you're creating new roles for yourself, that you're evolving. It means that you're doing great, passionate work."

I don't know if my running constitutes great, passionate work, but it is a new and uncertain role. I'm just as hesitant to call myself a blogger as I am to call myself a runner. It's just something I'm doing right now, rather than something I am basing my identity upon. I do believe in doing things right, getting the proper tools, and making it as pleasurable a pursuit as possible. (I'm still reading My Life In France by Julia Child--this sums up her approach to life to a "T". I find her so charmingly inspirational! And I might have to buy copper cooking pots in solidarity!) I signed up for a 10-week running class and I'm looking forward to meeting people who are interested as I am in trying out something new and going boldly where they haven't gone before.

My friend Kristin joined me for dinner tonight, at a restaurant appropriated called Alchemy. As I walked down my street to come home, I saw so many gorgeous fireflies, giving off their green glow in the sultry evening. It made me think of this quote:

"Fireflies signal here and there. The sky is a color of neither blue nor black, and there is nothing in it to be acknowledged beyond the occasional flicker of a star. Only just now, a longing like love bears upon the vast, clear indifference of this night." --N. Scott Momaday

It's good to be home from Ohio. I missed Kristin and the fireflies and the Chocolate Room for dessert. It was a perfect 10 of a way to be welcomed home.

Science Lesson

I've always been a big fan Newton’s Law of Motion—the concept that “a body at rest tends to stay at rest / a body in motion tends to stay in motion.” According to the Encarta Encyclopedia, inertia is the state by which "an object…not subject to any...external force moves at a constant velocity. In even simpler terms, inertia means that an object will always continue moving at its current speed and in its current direction until some (other) force causes its speed or direction to change." There is some comfort in realizing that inertia doesn't mean stillness, but simply keeping the status quo.

I realize that I have constant force upon my teeth, and because of this, I am trying very hard to create a state of equilibrium. That constant force is very strong, but undetectable to anyone but me, and so I fear that it looks as though I am in a state of stillness or that I'm not trying hard enough to achieve the goals that I should have achieved by now, large or small. The novel is still sitting there. I haven't gotten to Japan. My niece and nephew speak better French than I do.

Maybe this is why I am so attracted to running these days. I am exerting my own force upon me, one that is visible to the outside world, and one that certainly matches the force that is exerted upon my interior. I had the day off today and for the first time I really ran--intervals of a 1/2 mile walking with 1/4 of a mile running. (Aren't you proud of me, J-Bird??) It felt good to work that hard, and to have a goal of not only running a 5K, but to getting rid of the last vestiges of my cupcake depression.

I saw a woman on the street today wearing a neck brace, and she looked so tall and elegant with the aid of the brace--placing her feet carefully as she walked. I wondered if she was self conscious of the brace, but as soon as I had that thought, it was replaced by another: "What does it matter? She needs the brace and it will soon be off, when the problem is corrected." I stopped cold in my tracks. I mean, if that's the honest, compassionate and instant train of thought that ran through my head, then why am I still continuing to convince myself that compassion is unavailable to me with my own plight with braces? Maybe someone is even thinking that I look tall and elegant with them. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

What a lovely thought/force to push me out of my state of inertia!