I Want to Run Away With Me

I haven't really bothered to run anywhere, for anything at any point since the 8th grade in 1993. The occasional trudge on the treadmill has been all I've dained to do. In the last few weeks I've made it my mission to get in the best shape I could possibly be in. I've always liked exercise is some form. I walk and weight train, practice Pilates and Fluidity and even do the occasional Denise Austin work out. But I have always detested running. Probably because it's the most disciplined exercise I can think of and I have a complete lack of discipline in many areas of my life...


About three weeks ago I decided to try running because it was something I could do with my family and it kept me outside this time of year. Since then I've mentioned wanting to run a marathon in January, 2011. I'm making progress and meeting mini-goals pretty rapidly and am happy to report that I should meet my goal of running 3 miles in less than the two week time span I've given myself. And afterall, that's how a marathon is run, one mile at a time. I've really enjoyed my husband and children's company on my practice runs. They give me distraction, conversation and motivation. I alternate running and walking several times in the course of one of our outings. I'll run ahead then walk back to my family then walk with them a while and repeat. I'm trying not to push myself too hard right now. I want to go further every time I run and push past the obvious discomforts that a novice like myself will suffer in the beginning.  At the same time I know that if I push too hard I'll likely injure myself or over strain my muscles and not be able to run again for a few days and that's the last thing I want. For now I'm running every other day and weight training on the days I'm not running. I'm making the necessary adjustments in my diet which haven't been all that difficult as I enjoy many healthy, natural foods anyway. For now I would say the most difficult part of this new endeavor is finding a place to rest my mind when I run. As I progress I know I'll surely settle into a pattern of thought. But for now my mind is scattered and I'm finding it difficult to focus on anything other than the cinder blocks I feel are attached to the tops of my thighs. Granted they've gotten lighter in recent days, but they're still there. I know this will improve in time; They're only mental cinder blocks afterall.

The Marathon Woman

Last night I found myself answering a question that I never thought I'd have an answer for. "Could I, or would I be willing to run a marathon?" A friend on Facebook is a runner and proposed that she & some others take a marathon challenge in Charleston, SC in January 2011. Before I knew what I had said I proclaimed my desire to do it with her. I had a helluva time getting to sleep last night because I couldn't figure out what I was so afraid of... and then the answer finally came to me. I'm afraid of being with myself for long periods of time. I can most often occupy myself with house labors, a nap, shopping trips, time with friends, etc... But this would mean having to be with me, just me. And then after figuring that out I had to answer this question: "Why do I want to run a marathon?" Obviosly the fitness & strength is the first thing that comes to my mind, then my children and my desire to set a good example for them. But what about ME? Where does Heather fit in??? In the end, the results I feel in my body and the example I set for my children are meek and mild in comparison to what I hope to feel about Heather. She is my motivation... I want her to work hard, to do something she never thought she could do, to feel things she never thought possible. I want her to be proud of herself... just her.


Most of my pride and accomplishment comes from my daily life. I live a very content and accomplished life with my husband and children by my side. I know joy and peace because of them. I know love and friendship, happiness and meaning because of the people in my life today. But the one thing, the person I know the least about is me. I've known only what nature and necessity have asked of me and I think it's time I start asking more of myself. Thus, I begin my journey today.

A Spring in My Step

Each year the dawning of Spring provides me with just the right motivation to once again... begin again. We thrust open our windows, wake to birds chirping at the feeders on the Magnolia and Dogwood trees. Two days ago geese flew over our house. The smell of the azaleas and wisteria can be intoxicating and the dew in the morning grass is heaven sent. I seldom get so chipper as I do in the Spring time. Each afternoon my family goes for a walk (anywhere from 2-4 miles) through our beautiful neighborhood and down the charming side streets that make up our home town. Walking is my next-to-least favorite exercise but this time of year it feels wonderful. Of course I always hope to maintain the motivation that overtakes me during this time but it seldom sticks. Today I had a great cardio workout indoors then went for a walk this evening and played frisbee with my children after dinner. I want to be outdoors all the time right now, before it's too hot and unbearable. Georgia in the Summer (especially if you're not use to it) can be despicable. July and August are the months I most want to run around naked and jump through sprinklers in just that fashion. And so I try to absorb as much of Spring as possible. Even the damn Spring cleaning is somewhat delightful. The old wood shines and the fresh air that seeps in through the open windows refreshes me. And so for now there's a little something extra in my day, a bit more sunshine, a pinch more flavor and a spring in my step.

A thing of beauty lasts forever

I met this Manolo Blahnik, satin D'Orsay pump at Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue in New York city less than a week ago... I meandered around the store, looking, salivating a little. The associates were quite nice and helpful but quickly and rightfully assumed I was not a "buyer" but merely a poor out-of-towner. When I made my way to the shoe corner of the store I nearly fainted. I had never been in the presence of so many of them. There were Manolo's, Loubitan's, McCartney's, Prada's, etc... They were EVERYWHERE! At first I was afraid to even touch them. After all I've been admiring the likes of these masters since the early 90's (except Stella of course - she didn't come along until the late 90's). Then I noticed a couple of women "man handling" the shoes as if they were at a damned Pay Less! "I like these, they're $785. But I don't know..." the gray clad lady said as she shoved the shoe lovelessly back on the shelf. I wanted to tackle her and ask her why she thought she could treat them that way? Why weren't they special and beautiful to her I wondered? For the same reason some people merely 'collect' VanGoh's I suppose. They don't really care about the quality, suffering or artistry behind the beauty they encounter. They can simply afford to disregard the craftsmanship, I suppose somehow believing their money is better than the splendid talent before them. But I know better. I know that money doesn't make up for beauty. It can't buy it either. I knew there in that store for the first time in my life what it meant... that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". Beauty is simply a vision, whether it be real or imagined. It is an ideal, an illusion, ungraspable. But when you're in its presence you know it. It is beholden to you.