Marathon Weekend, Week Forty-Five in the New Abnormal

The streets are brimming with runners.  It’s the first November weekend, which means daylight-savings-time along with the New York City Marathon.  Friday, while walking through Central Park, I came across a rally.  It was a celebration of all the countries represented in the marathon.  There were flags and delegates from 140 nations.  

            While I was passing, hearing countries being called out on the loudspeaker from Ecuador to Japan, I saw the proud representatives take in the cheers from others who had come half-way around the globe.  It was peaceful.  It was celebratory.  It suggested to me the very real possibility of getting along, no matter where one resides, or how different others might live their lives.  These are runners, and supporters of runners.  Each person wants to do their best.  They have trained and are ready to traverse New York City’s five boroughs.  

            I will be on the sideline, cheering my friends, and those I know, and shouting encouragement to those I will only see for a few short seconds.  Viewing the marathon is awe inspiring.  For most marathoners, running 26.2 miles is not easy.  But they’re game and they do their best.  There’s a courage in being inclined to make such a commitment.  I call it the courage of Yes.  They entered the lottery from a position of willingness.  They trained for months because of that willingness.  And now they are implementing a new courage.  The courage of grit.  

            Grit means giving one’s all, whatever it takes.  No one is compromising someone else.  Everyone is running together in harmony towards a personal goal known to each runner.  That takes determination.  That takes grit.  Witnessing the runners giving their all step by step, mile by mile, is truly inspiring.  It inspires us to be more generous.  It inspires good will.  All in all, it inspires the best in all of us.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Choose a small task.  It can be cleaning the bathroom, doing homework, organizing the sock drawer ,or anything else.  See if you can purposely focus.  As you do the task add a little positive intention.  This is a modest sample of grit.  
  • Find something that you’d really like to do that is out of your comfort zone or is something new to you.  See if you can commit to doing it, or if you can take a first step towards doing it.  This is a small example of the courage of Yes.
  • If you’re in New York City, try to come out to see the runners, even for a very short time.  You will be inspired.  If you’re not here, watch a snippet on tv.  Or watch a sport in which the players give their all.  Take in their commitment to excellence for a dose of inspiration.  

What We Don’t Know, Week Fourteen in the New Abnormal

It was the summer of 1979.  Thanks to a student loan I was in Paris studying French, which I didn’t retain and Art History, which I preserved with many future visits to museums. I felt so cosmopolitan sipping a café au lait while enjoying a freshly baked croissant before classes began. We sat at a café off of the Jardin du Luxembourg.  Half the day was spent in classes.  By afternoon I was walking for hours getting to know the city of lights.  

Those were the highlights.  Yet there was so much I didn’t know.  Back in our dorm room we had a bidet.  I was too insecure to ask how to use it or what it was for.  I thought, since we were in a women’s dorm, that it was a douche.  What I knew about douches I learned in Summer’s Eve commercials back in New Jersey.  When my roommates from other college exchange programs asked if I knew how to use it.  I lied.  I said, “Yes.”  Not knowing seemed as if it wasn’t an option for me.  

As memorable as the summer of “79 was, I recall my insecurities as much as I remember the amazing gifts of that European summer.  Over 40 years later and I still recall what my wonderful art history professor taught us every time I go on walks, recognizing the architecture.  Or, appreciating a painting in a gallery or museum because of what she imparted in our classes and tours.   I’m also currently enjoying the marvels of a bidet in our New York City apartment.  It’s not a separate structure as it was in Paris.  It’s attached to our toilet, a wonderful addition from Tushy.  I use less toilet paper, reveling in the simplicity of continental hygiene.  The focused stream of water cleans up beautifully.  

I may now know what a bidet is and how I can use it effectively, but over the years I have learned to admit what I don’t know.  I’d rather learn and grow than pretend that I’m more knowledgeable so someone else won’t judge me. We lose ground when we make believe we’re smarter than we are.  I compromised my learning curve and the breadth of joy while in Paris because I couldn’t admit what I didn’t know.  Thank goodness I know better now.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Think of something you have wanted to know or learn.  Look it up.  Or ask a friend about it.  It feels nice to understand what we didn’t know before.  
  • Make time to laugh.  Do it purposefully.  And laugh with abandon.  
  • Be open to be inspired.  Keep an open mind and go about your day.  Whether you anticipate it from a known teacher, or whether it comes in an unexpected moment, being willing to be inspired is the open invitation to wonder and awe.  

One Step in Front of the Other

 

 

-9bcc6173bfec0f98.JPGWhen I was 10 years old I was allowed to walk on Haddonfield-Berlin Road, crossing highways entrances and exits to go to The Woodcrest Shopping Center. For a short time they had The Jerry Lewis Movie Theater, and I could get in for 50 cents, the amount of my allowances after chores. Or, I would go to W.T. Grant’s, deemed a twenty-five cent department store, but more of a five and dime. that sold colorful birds, toys, clothes, plastic jewelry, and featured a lunch counter. I was much too shy to go to the counter alone. But I loved getting lost in the aisles ending up with some sort of sweet. There was also Crest Lanes where I could bowl. I loved the crack of the pins being hit, and the overhead light of the score pad. In the other direction I would walk to The Haddontown Swim Club. It was lovely after a hot August walk to reach the pool and jump in to the cold splash of wet relief. These were some of my first destination walks.

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I would get upset that my mom didn’t drive me places, but with four children and a house to run, driving me to and from a destination that was just over a mile away, was not to be. What upset me then, actually provided me with a pleasure I’ve enjoyed throughout my life. I’ve lived in Manhattan for over 35 years, and a destination walk remains one of my favorite activities.

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Some of my best visits with friends have been walking to work with them, or going to a movie theater in another neighborhood. Films may not be fifty cents anymore, but the destination is still as satisfying. I love going to various farmer’s markets, or to a specialty stationary store. I walk to museums, or parks. Last week I took the subway just to walk in parks in other parts of the city. The destination is more often than not, motivation, but the walk is the true treat.

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Although I love city walks, and will make sure I go on foot when I visit other cities, walking in the woods, or taking a hike is equally as pleasurable. In these hectic times, walking has been wonderful for stress, it’s been reliable transportation, it’s been an education, and it’s been a gift.

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Delayed Flight

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I’m at La Guardia’s newly refurbished Delta Terminal. I’m on my way to Charleston. Everyone says what a great town it is. I look forward to getting there, but with the rain, the short runways, and delays, I’m at an iPod café ordering a dinner that will be a stark contrast to the wonderful cuisine to be had in Charleston.

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This is a wonderful people watching opportunity, and if I would look up from my laptop I might enjoy the many fellow travelers in my midst. We have any number of head coverings. The guy furiously texting has a grey cap turned with the lid to the back. The woman across from him is wearing a black burka. Across the aisle is a business woman with a pair of sunglasses she’s wearing as a band, It’s been raining all day and it’s dark out now. But I assume she must have her reasons . A tall fellow with a salt & pepper beard is sporting a yamaka, while carrying his fancy black hat. A bald gentleman is reflecting the fluorescent light coming from above. There’s a pair of shiny red earphones on another bald man, though he purposely shaved his head. It wasn’t an accident of fate.   One man with a kind smile has his long hair tied back in what looks like a large bun. No hat for him.

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It’s nice to travel in the middle of the week. Mostly people are calm, unlike the many family trips we took President’s Week, when families act out loud voices, agitated, and not shy to display their bad moods. Needless to say their children are misbehaved. But none of that tonight. For that I am grateful, and I’m willing to let the hours go by while I wait for our plane to show up.

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I’m at the airport to go on a solo vacation. I wasn’t stressed when the delays came because I’m making up the trip as I go along. I did get stressed when they changed the delay from 10:30 PM to 8:06 and it was after 6 PM, and I was still home with no cars available for another 30 minutes or so. I did get a yellow taxi, silently thanking Uber for my good fortune in the rain. Pre-Uber I never would have been able to snag a cab. And then after a long wait on the FDR drive, we made it to the RFK Bridge. I wasn’t aware that I was holding my breath until I received another text saying the flight was postponed until 8:30. I could finally unclench my jaw and breath a sigh of relief. Since the cab ride, it was delayed twice more. This after the back and forth in the afternoon. It feels like working with a really erratic patient on the Psych ER telling me, “We’re being invaded by aliens.” No, I mean Romanians. No Wait, I mean a covert ops organization with our government. No wait…” All I know is to stay alert and listen for what’s next. And, what’s next is a smooth night flight, non-stop to Charlston.

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