moving boxes

ch-ch-ch-changes. . .

So, I’m moving. Moving from Arizona to Oregon. Moving from one job to a new one.

Transitions engender reflection, and I’m thinking about what I really value.

This effect shows up as I sort my possessions. I’ve thought about this before, but now it’s inescapable. Do I like this? Do I use it? Do I need it? Do I want it? Or, did it just slip into my life somehow and attach itself, without my deliberate attention? Or was it once valuable and is no longer? Is it beautiful? Or, am I keeping it out of some sort of guilt at the idea of selling it, donating it, or throwing it away? I’ve been answering these questions a lot lately, and it’s very revealing.

It also shows up as I visit people and places here. I have beloved teachers and communities at my yoga studio (where I’ve taken over 2,000 classes) and my krav maga gym (where I learned that I can, and should, fight when threatened). I have favorite trails and coffee shops. I have coworkers who’ve taught me and learned from me. Of course I’ve valued these things over the years, but the thought of moving away from them brings my appreciation into sharper focus. Each visit feels significant.

I also think about myself and my life in the ten years I’ve been here. I moved here with Max and took my first job as a nurse. I took my habits of yoga and running from occasional to nearly daily. I went to graduate school and became a nurse practitioner, then a researcher, then a teacher. Max went to graduate school and cycled through jobs. I hosted weekly dinners with Max for years, sharing a love of vegetarian food and socially progressive conversation with smart and loveable friends. I cooked a lot of vegan food, and learned to love eating that way, even when I haven’t made it a firm rule in my life. I’ve travelled from here, to Europe, to Asia, to Mexico, to Montana, to New York, to California, to the Midwest. And then I cam home, to the home I made here in this funny desert city. And now, I’m going.  New beginnings are exciting! But still, leaving is sad. What would you miss if you moved?

A Meditation on Returning to Running

So, I’m back to running. I’m building back up slowly, but I’ve been able to get out and run almost every day that I’ve really wanted to. I had a few times where I’ve run for less time than I planned because my foot didn’t feel right, but those days have been few and far between. I’m healing.  And guess what? Running, which I missed so dearly, still sucks sometimes! Some days it’s hot and I’m tired and I can’t seem to get in a groove. But that happens to every runner, and now, I just don’t really mind. What happened?

Did being injured teach me gratitude? Yes, I’m sure, but it also gave me a lot of time to read and think. I read a lot of books about running— Running and Being (a meditative classic by George Sheehan), Ready to Run (Kelly Starrett’s owner’s manual for a running body), Run Fast (good old Hal Higdon), What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (another meditation, by Murakami). I listened to audiobooks, too, during otherwise boring sessions on the bike or elliptical: Finding Ultra, Born to Run, Natural Born Heroes, Eat & Run. I read some other, non-running books, too: Outliers (Malcolm Gladwell, who is, love him or hate him, a creative thinker), Bad Feminist (Roxane Gay), and parts of Igniting Greatness (a book that might unkindly be called “self-help” but is really about psychology and personal choice, given to me by Howie Glasser, who sets up behind me in yoga twice a week). See, I told you I had a lot of space to fill!

What books should I read next?

So yes, I learned from the experience of not running, and I learned from the things I did instead. I think I’m a better runner now. I am a little slower and I am covering fewer miles, but I think I fixed part of my running brain, or heart, or soul.

IMG_1380I’ll see you on the trail, friends!