Do something that scares you

When I was a child, I was fearless. One summer when I was 8 years old, I was at camp in the South of France where we lived. All us kids slept in A-frame tents and were constantly dirty. It was the late 70s and we were wild children with little adult supervision. I once spent an entire afternoon tied to the trunk of a tree as retribution for having punched a boy before any of the camp’s counselors noticed I was missing. 

During our second week at camp, we were assigned into teams for a scavenger hunt into the woods. Each team needed a leader, and I, having  more confidence than I’ll ever have again for the rest of my life, designated myself as the leader. I remember it was one of those hot, dry afternoons at the end of August, but we were told to not linger because a storm was coming. We were allowed to bring packs with a little bit of food to snack on. 

We spent the first few hours looking for random things camp counselors had left for us to find in the woods, and I was bored. This seemed all annoyingly predictable. So I suggested that maybe we should just keep walking and exploring the forest. One of the boys in our group, who was only 7 years old,  pointed out that it was time to return to camp. Being raised by a single mother who had fled the Italian authorities to keep me with her,  I had learned that rules were made to be broken, so I suggested we continue ahead. With some reluctance the group followed me. 

Someone once said that it’s not an adventure until something starts to go wrong. We became living proof of this when our group of 7- and 8-year-olds spent the next three days lost in the woods. We weathered the first night’s thunderstorm in a dilapidated shed by a river. A few of the children were crying and all of them hated me. I tried to pretend that I knew our way back: “right there,” I’d say pointing, “it’s just right across the river.” But I had no idea. 

We spent our second day in the woods hungry, tripping on roots and rocks, running to nowhere, just trying to find our way out. Eventually we found a farm, and lied our way into staying the night and getting some food. The farmer didn’t care. 

Probably my only good idea was on our third day when I suggested we keep walking on the side of the road, so that we could be more easily spotted. I had a ‘feeling’ we were walking in the general direction of camp, but by this point I had lost the confidence of the entire group. I was clearly a failed leader. 

When our camp counselors finally found us before nightfall, and frantically made us swear that we could never, ever tell our parents or anyone about any of this, we all knew that no matter how scared we had been, we had just lived through one of the most incredible adventures of our young lives. 

Eleanor Roosevelt once said “Do something that scares you every day.” Good words to live by. As adults, we often lose our fearlessness - we think about consequences, failure, rejection, danger. We don’t generally think it’s a good idea to just walk into the woods with no idea what lies ahead. But we should! If not walk into the woods, then at least get out of our comfort zone. Let our fear break us open rather than shut us down. So here’s to the fearless child in all of us and to all the amazing, terrifying adventures 2021 has to offer. Here’s to our incredible resilience and strength in the face of ‘bad’ ideas. Here’s to being lost for a little while, a little longer, just for fun.

And So It Goes

I don’t know about you, but in the midst of all this unpredictability (i.e. madness), I’ve needed to keep some sense of structure, however loose, to my days. I've tried to shape how my days start and end, so that whatever happens in between, and god only knows, is more manageable (i.e. will not trigger a panic attack). So my every day starts with 45 minutes of yoga and ends with a run or a bike ride. Of course, it’s a bit crazy to ever think we actually control anything. Still, we keep trying. 

Since the sun now sets at 4pm in Maine, this week I’ve been getting in a few morning runs, changing my routine a bit. This past week, I’ve been on roads, and I don’t like roads. But it’s never a good idea to predict how a run is going to go before actually going on a run. You never know how it’s going to turn out, and that’s what we love about it.

Gorham roads

It was tough getting out the door on Tuesday. The temps were in the teens, and I wanted to run for at least an hour with some hill strides at the end. I was also dreading our neighborhood’s loose dogs who like to chase. But I got out the door without overthinking it. Just get out the door! After about half a mile, I settled into a nice, easy pace for a little over 5 miles, then found a good hill for my strides. All in all, a very uneventful, but surprisingly pleasant 6ish-miler. 

On Wednesday, I knew I had to do some hill work. My running plan had me down for some warm-up and cool down running, with 4x3-minute hills. A 3-minute hill is a surprisingly long hill, and not that easy to find, unless you’re running up a mountain. My 3-minute hill is at an odd location almost in downtown Gorham, in front of residential homes. But it’s a great hill, and it has a sidewalk, so I won’t get hit by cars. I’m pretty sure the people whose houses I run in front of think I’m insane. 

I don’t think I’d be exaggerating by saying that running hills can be life-changing - not just in making you a stronger runner but also by helping you settle your mind. The first hill repeat is always the hardest for me. My mind is still thinking about this idea of running hills - how hard it is, how many more I have to do - but by the second hill I’m only focusing on running up that one hill. All I need to do at that particular moment in my life is run up that one hill. That’s it, nothing else. And that is an awesome place to be. That very simple thought can change your entire outlook on how you go about the rest of your day. Unfortunately, the more I run hills, the less I’m capable of multi-tasking. 

A 3-minute hill

Thursday was a bike day, and since it was dark by the time I could get on the bike, I went for an indoor bike run. I had a horrible headache and hot flashes all day (hello menopause!), but I’ve learned that just because you feel crappy doesn’t mean your workout will be bad. You just start, and see where you end up. I got in about 11 slow miles, but my body was grateful for the movement after sitting in front of a computer all day. 

I wanted to get in an early morning run on Friday, but work got in the way of things, so I ended up on the treadmill for a little under an hour, watching Emily in Paris, which is the worst possible show ever that I couldn’t stop watching. There’s not much to say here really. 

Emily in Paris - worst show ever

Today is Saturday, and I’m going to get outside for a hike with Huckleberry, our beagle. I have about 8 hours of light to work with, which feels luxurious. 

I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow all week, finally getting to the trails. I’m hoping for a long group run, but either way, I’ll run for at least two hours. Soon I’ll be running a little longer again every Sunday. 

And so it goes. Meanwhile, Trump's lawyers are trying to create new states (have you heard? New-Nevada and New-California?). We hope Maine will get enough vaccines. We hope the vaccines won’t have too many side effects. We hope people will finally start wearing masks. We hope we’ll soon be able to hug our friends again, and travel, and eat out at restaurants, and go see a band. Until then, we’ll keep running (or walking or swimming or whatever it is that you do), because we need to keep trying. It’s the one thing we can do.