Running from My Problems?

I have started running again.  Half a dozen years ago I decided to run, then run a half marathon.  Then a couple more.  I never thought I could run that far, especially starting in my 40s.  I did, and the euphoria of crossing the finish and sporting a medal as proof was indescribable.

The last Half I ran was pretty crappy.  It was 40 degrees and rained the entire 13.1 miles.  I actually considered bailing the morning of the race, because the forecast was hideous.  But it was an out-of-town race,  we already had the hotel, and I had already picked up the packet.  So I was gonna do it.  It was my son's 19th birthday, and he was courteous enough to rise out of bed during finals week to watch me run past his dorm.   My worst time to date, but an accomplishment nonetheless.

I quit running after that.  Not because the weather was frigid that day and it turned me away from running, but more because I needed a break.  Running is a time of solitude.  Just you, your thoughts, and (in my case) the Dixie Chicks.  I was not in a place where my thoughts and I needed to spend a lot of time together.   Too much was banging around inside my brain: the loss of both mine and my husband's dad within 16 months, personal strife, shame and vulnerablility among other things.

I definitely needed to clear up some stuff before I wanted to be alone with myself for an hour or three.

I started doing yoga, as many of my faithful readers know.  I did classes, taught classes, and ran a studio at the ranch.  Yes, you have to be alone with your thoughts in yoga too, but with it, you practice mindfulness.  Mindfulness was just what I needed.  It's a practice, meaning we don't win it, accomplish it, or finish it.  We just try.  It taught me many things: acceptance, forgiveness, and strength to name a few.

This year I turn 50.  As I welcome in the second half of my life, I decided I should mark it with some milestone accomplishment.  I always opined I could never run a marathon.  It takes too long to train, and it's the distance from Fort Worth to Dallas, for crying out loud.  Why would someone run that far?

So, I signed up for one.

I've made it through the first year of working on my doctorate, and I didn't die from that.  So why not a marathon? I figured, what the hell, other old people run 26.2 miles, why can't I?  I am a month or so back into training, still slower that the internet in the 90's, but I have spent the time on my legs.  That is what will get me across the finish.

Why is this part of the minimalism thing, you ask?  I like to think running is minimalist.  All you need are some shoes and a road (and a sports bra probs).  No membership or machines needed, although I did invest in some bluetooth headphones because I always run with the Dixie Chicks.   I remember doing a training run a few years ago in West Texas when I was there on a trip.  I couldn't see the end of the road, so I just kept running. I guess I would stop when I got to the border.  It was great.

My head is clearer now, likely thanks to yoga and therapy.  I am good with running with my thoughts and letting them bounce around in there, reminding me that you can run with your problems, and not from them.  I'll let you know how the last 0.2 miles of the marathon feels in December.  I know the finish will be magic. 

Minimal Travels

Ah, sweet summertime.  Here on the ranch, we sent one of the kids off to Europe for study abroad.  We haven't heard from him much, but have proof of life thanks to Snapchat and Instagram.  It looks like the time of his life is being had.

He's also learning about minimalism.  He had to pack his worldly goods into one backpack and suitcase, leaving him nimble enough to lug his life on planes, trains, and through teeny living spaces.  He found that the Europeans do not live in 3000 sf places, nor do they thrive in the excess we do here.  And guess what, they and he are doing just fine. 

I'm about to do the same. Can't send the kid off to see the world without seeing a bit of it yourself.  Traveling with less is a challenge for me, despite my minimalistic tendencies.  I tend to plan for the worst.  Travel guru Rick Steves said most Americans do that, but he reminds that they DO sell umbrellas and bandaids in Europe.  You don't have to plan for every eventuality.  Just go live.

I plan to do that. I figure, armed with my laptop, good walking shoes, and my Visa card, I should be just fine.  I don't buy souvenirs on trips.  I used to be all about the shot glasses and t-shirts, but now I only want to carry around my memories on my hard drive and in my brain.  NOT to my retirement home.  Souvenir, as you may know, is French for "to remember", and I don't want to remember my travels with tchotchkes.   I'll stick with pictures. 

I think travel is the best gift you can give yourself.  Seeing the world's largest ball of string or the statue of the David or Mount Rushmore are all magic moments.  I'm not a fan of travel "bucket lists" (see my blog on Kicking Your Bucket List ) because I don't try to focus on checking off what I want to see so much that I am not focusing on the beauty of the visit.  But to be clear, my children will see the Mona Lisa if they have to stand behind 50 Asian tourists holding iPads up to take her picture and prove her presence.  We aren't going to Paris and missing that opportunity.  It's a must.

Travel light and travel often.  Your brain will be so much more awakened than if you spent your money on something you can touch, like a TV or a newer car.  You'll meet people you can't understand (even if you only travel domestically!) and eat things you can't identify (again, just go to Louisiana) and your life will be better.  In the words of Boy Wonder's professor who is supervising the study abroad trip: "If your life isn't changed by this trip, it's your own fault".

Happy Trails, minimalist friends... the world is out there.