mindfirerunner

Today I saw a man about a guitar. Sounds strange, I know. I used to have a guitar years ago but sold it when I got married, had kids, etc. I thought I’d never have time to play it and rather than it just taking up more space I’d let someone else get some use out of it. This winter seems harder than most, and I’ve just been struggling to keep my sanity and get out of the rut of the normal routine of life. As a result, I’ve started yet another blog www.chateauderouge.com which is specific to cooking and food (yet another passion of mine). As I was blogging away and listening to music one night, I thought about how much I missed playing music. I started playing the violin at age 4, taught myself how to play the piano, then picked up the guitar, cello, bass ~ most of the “normal” stringed instruments, but I haven’t played anything for longer than I can remember. After looking around and getting feedback from various people I came across a unique instrument. A guy was selling a 1980 Martin, one of the brands recommended to me.

Our week has been a tough week. Our son lost a very close friend and our hearts have been torn wide open. My son impresses the hell out of me though. He retreated for a while, but has emerged through creative outlets, finding ways to cope with his loss. He is a very tender-hearted young man, only 12 years old, but he has something many of us lack; the ability to pick up the pieces and move on. He is finding avenues to express his grief in ways I could have never imagined. Music has always held a spot in his world, and meeting a genuine angel today could not have happened at a better time. It’s one of those times where someone steps into your life just briefly, but leaves such a huge footprint.

I was finally able to meet the owner of the guitar this afternoon. We talked about where he and his wife were from, the fact that he was running his first triathlon this Spring, the same marathons we’d run, and the places we were heading in life. Then, he started talking about the guitar. It was his first guitar, given to him in 1980 by his parents. The instrument itself is not only unique and beautiful, but the sound is crisp, clear, and full of life. He wanted to make certain that it was going to someone who was going to take good care of it. We talked about my son and what he was going through, and that this guitar was for our entire family. I told him about upcoming camping adventures and that we wanted something that sounded sweet and mellow, yet was solid and good for the ride.

It was a five minute conversation that will leave a lasting impression on my life. He was my angel this week. His words of kindness, encouragement and life picked me up and brought my head above surface just long enough.

Today I saw a man about a guitar.

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Wide awake I sit once again with nothing but my Mac, an old t-shirt of my husband’s on and my reading glasses. Oh Mac…how I love you. You’re always there, always warm, and always full of great ideas. You never talk back, and thank goodness you don’t have an autocorrect feature.

My husband and I switched vehicles yesterday, and while on my way to a massage appointment I was looking through the glove compartment for something to put my hair up with. You know girls, we leave hair things all over the place. Surely I could find something in a 13 year old Saturn. I didn’t find any hair clips, but I did find my very first marathon medal! Oh my stars!!! I couldn’t believe it. How the heck did that get in there? At first I thought it was one of my son’s wrestling medals but after closely looking I saw “Steamboat Springs Marathon” embellished on the old worn medal.

I remember that first marathon almost 11 years ago. Boy, do I remember that first marathon. I wasn’t new to running but I was certainly new to running a marathon. I read up on different training plans as best I could (the Internet wasn’t all that easy to navigate then), but I was far from ready to run a full marathon. In fact, the longest run I had before the event was a 15-miler. It was a boring 15-miler at that because we lived in a small little neighborhood in a not-so-safe part of town at the time, so I didn’t want to stray too far from the house. I remember quite vividly how that 15 mile run felt, and how the marathon felt.

I was excited and nervous before the marathon, that hasn’t changed. But these days I’m a bit more prepared. I enjoyed the first 10 miles of the marathon and even hooked up with a new running buddy and we ran in tandem through mile 13. Then, I stopped for a water break…worst mistake ever. My running buddy had moved on and my legs began to cramp up. I kept telling myself, “You can do this. Just run six miles at a time and you’ll be done.” That mantra ran out quickly though and by mile 20 I felt my ankle bones crunching with every step. It was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I relied on the crowds along the sidelines, cheering me on (don’t ever take them for granted), and finally…FINALLY…reached the finish line in 5:42:51. Just a few minutes to spare before the course was closed. From mile 20-26.2 I swore up and down I’d never EVER run another marathon – EVER. And then I crossed the finish line. Every muscle, joint, ligament, fiber of my entire body hurt but I had a smile on my face (a few tears in my eyes) and I said “I can’t wait to do this again”.

Since then I’ve completed a few more marathons and have trained a whole lot better because I don’t want to ever feel like that in a race again. My last marathon was over two hours faster than my first at 3:32:02. I enjoyed that little walk down memory lane and looking back at how far I’ve come. I always felt like I missed the boat in my youth to be a runner, and thought I might be getting too old now. But as I look back from where I came from, I can only think “It’s just gonna get better”.

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As I sat in an overstuffed leather chair awaiting my massage appointment, I realized how calm and relaxed I was. (In order to properly get the full effect of this blog you really should put some meditating music on.) I was forced to sit still. Something I don’t tend to do very often. In a matter of seconds my mind was clear and I felt like I was finally centered and focused again. Something that had been missing for a while it seems. My thoughts were organized and new ideas came to me more quickly than I could type them into my phone. I had title after title light up in my head for my next running blogs. I’ve been going through a bit of a dry spell, with not running and all, but yesterday I was given the green light by my physical therapist and coach. It’s go time! Well, not exactly, but over the course of the next few weeks I’ll be as good as new. Still, a three mile run is certainly better than nothing. Throw in a massage and I’m a new girl!

So what does it take to bring us back to “base camp”? We get into our daily routines and the to-do lists, sports practices, work, school concerts, etc. We spend so much of our time committed to those people in our immediate circles that we don’t often step out long enough to refocus. As parents, everything we do revolves around educating, supporting and raising our children. We try to set good examples and work hard to ensure that they are taken care of and nurtured. There are times that we need to step out and re-group though. Everyone is different. Some people call it charging their batteries, but I call it getting back to my center of gravity. I get off-kiltered by events of the week, stress of work or family, or so involved in the details that I can’t seem to get my head on straight. We end up in the rut of normalcy and begin living a mediocre life.

To find my center of gravity, I just need some time alone. In a perfect world my alone time would come from getting away from everything that is normal. I would take just a few days, go someplace secluded, with no technology, no noises, just the sounds of nature and my own heart beating. We feel guilty if we want to “escape”. We feel we are inconveniencing those around us, and that things just won’t go right if we’re not home to make sure they do. But I’m learning. My roles in life have revolved around the home for so long I’ve forgotten who I am. See, this is where society has shaped us into creatures of habit and routine. It’s okay to break the mold. It’s okay to take a time out for you. It’s okay to find your center of gravity. The more centered you are, the better you will be to those around you. We need time to reflect, mentally reorganize, and recharge ~ it has been neglected for too long.

We are without limits if we can just get our minds out of the way.

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