tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18870911848634488432024-03-06T18:09:51.385-05:00Dream Chaserthoughts on running, birth, life, death. Being a woman, having children (or not!), raising a family. Sustainability, farming, cooking food. Business, capitalism, patriarchy and authorities. Anarcho-herbalism, alternative healing, science. Love, peace, life.Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.comBlogger349125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-31508743561701293082024-03-06T18:02:00.000-05:002024-03-06T18:02:12.438-05:00A Fun Day in the Desert<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UZcmIrwNMRoetWOI1LPW3VgHmABxggZq9_rYRyUisOsYD8FDps3AGmRL9UJaWK6iCEl_r8fK9gvhyphenhyphenzhAR12B0g_4gsZFFvusy32LlDoP9m5YFVT9lCDocLzjHN7vhyphenhyphenp4K9XNblkOU3lgEoscl9wAZ4HBLn1a9brUL1xAqouH7nD1mseSvqsupm5q9QVx/s8192/2024%20grandmasterultras-454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5464" data-original-width="8192" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4UZcmIrwNMRoetWOI1LPW3VgHmABxggZq9_rYRyUisOsYD8FDps3AGmRL9UJaWK6iCEl_r8fK9gvhyphenhyphenzhAR12B0g_4gsZFFvusy32LlDoP9m5YFVT9lCDocLzjHN7vhyphenhyphenp4K9XNblkOU3lgEoscl9wAZ4HBLn1a9brUL1xAqouH7nD1mseSvqsupm5q9QVx/s320/2024%20grandmasterultras-454.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />I woke at 6:15 and got dressed. My gear was kind of organized the night before but I still had to dress, use the bathroom, eat breakfast, fill my flasks and get my act together. I filled my water bladder and attached in into my vest, got my maple syrup and salt flask ready, packed my vest with the things I thought I would need for the day: cheerios, candies, salt tabs, wipes in ziplock, pee cloth, re-suable cup, emergency blanket (I take one everywhere, traveled through Africa with it decades ago.) Sunscreen, lip balm, phone and headphones. Watch. <p></p><p>I pinned on my bib, gobbled my breakfast, gulped my coffee and my son drove me to the race start. It was pretty low key over there. Everyone is over 50 who's involved in the race. There's a 50k, 50 miler, 100k, 100 miler. The oldest runner is in his 80's. We had a little pep talk, then we head out. </p><p>I am so happy! I've studied the course. I know what I'm going to eat. I am in the desert, my favourite place on the planet. And besides, I labored for so many hours to have my five babies, I can run for 50 kilometers no problem!</p><p>The trail goes downhill and then along a sandy patch until we reach two large tunnels that go under the highway. I don't like tunnels at the best of times, but these were the only thing that I dreamed about when I was having anxiety dreams about the race. I got through the tunnel and started my race.</p><p>Wait a minute. Why do I feel water dripping down my front? Ok, so a few weeks before the race I was doing one of my long runs and the nozzle of my water bladder froze. I had a note on my list of things to do: dress rehearsal of gear. I was going to put all the gear I was going to use for my race, get it all together and just go for an hour run to final test that everything was working.</p><p>I never got to do that dress rehearsal. So in fact, the nozzle from the bladder had not only frozen but also ripped. The damn thing had a hole in it and it was spurting water. I noticed it after the big hill after the tunnel...the front of my running top was wet and water was splashing on my legs. I couldn't have worked up a crazy sweat already.... </p><p>First I put it in my mouth and thought I would have a continual water supply. Note: you can't run with a tube in your mouth. Then I tried blowing air into it to see if that would stop the flow. It didn't. I ran up to a group of friends running together and asked if they could think of any quick fixes. They couldn't. I asked if they wanted to hear a joke: "My water broke! I'm leaking and labor hasn't started yet!". haha. Then for about a mile, I held the tube up to stop the water dripping, then I realized if I bend it, it won't drip. So I took some tape from the course markings, tied it around the bent hose, and stuffed it in my pocket.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfqgiofH0QxOX6MX99K8ynqOiCI-FzQRATbWW5mbfcYxpsXn93r64RQS_SYneD6a_XBD_6dECtifjzCx4BvlRNB44bHgWQFjVypfpI47aDreth3JTm7ZdIth8lrBftWfHkmXfQqPH-N7t3ZZJHZBLYksQk1kC2HjTAaXZMrLSTI2-wVt2i1Yh9NURFWAt/s3088/IMG_2324.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfqgiofH0QxOX6MX99K8ynqOiCI-FzQRATbWW5mbfcYxpsXn93r64RQS_SYneD6a_XBD_6dECtifjzCx4BvlRNB44bHgWQFjVypfpI47aDreth3JTm7ZdIth8lrBftWfHkmXfQqPH-N7t3ZZJHZBLYksQk1kC2HjTAaXZMrLSTI2-wVt2i1Yh9NURFWAt/s320/IMG_2324.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>All good, except that it meant that I only had my 500 ml of electrolyte mix readily available, and I didn't want to mess around untying tape every time I wanted to drink. Anyway, challenge accepted, and I decided to drink the electrolytes and refill with water.</p><p>The next 35 kilometers went by like a dream! I ran, I walked, I thought my thoughts. I spun around at times, just drinking in the beauty. I ate Ritz crackers with Nutella at an aid station. I filled my water flask. I didn't like my maple syrup so much. I finished my cheerios, throwing the last four remaining onto the desert ground with a small prayer of gratitude. I danced. I saw a butterfly. I met a cow. I missed a turn and went down the wrong road for a little bit until I realized there were no footprints. I turned around and saw three other runners wildly waving at me, so I turned back and got on track. I had some pumpkin pie at an aid station. I was filled with happiness. At around the 30 km mark I started eating candies and salt tablets. They were just what I needed! I decided to drink from my useless bladder, so I untied it every 20 minutes or so and took a long drink. </p><p>At Mile 24.6, I reached Overlook aid station, 15 minutes after my planned time. I was happy and tired, and my son was waiting there with my Snickers bar! I gave him the offending water bladder, filled my flask, and headed out. Then the demons hit.</p><p>It wasn't really Courtney Dauwalter's famous pain cave. It was more like I suddenly realized, at about 42 kilometers, that I was a fat idiot. I was in the middle of the desert, with mountains in the distance, and blue sky above, and for about a kilometer I was literally adjusting my clothing and worrying that I looked fat. I stopped. I stared at the sky. I had a drink of water. I continued. Fat or not fat, I regained my spirits and ran, stumbled, and walked the last ten km.</p><p>The final ten k were the hardest in terms of terrain. Very rocky and some steep descents. I couldn't really run. I slowed down a lot, partly because of my water troubles from the beginning of the race. But my "fat crisis" was minimal, and I regained my smile. I was terrified going back through the tunnel. I kept thinking if someone comes barreling my way in an ATV, what the hell can I do? But no one did, and I survived. I knew I wasn't going to die, the universe wasn't going to play that cosmic joke on me just yet.</p><p>Bottom line? I made it to the start line! And I made it to the finish line!</p><p>The finish line was a bit of a let-down, to be honest. I thought there would be more people there, but it was very low key. I got in the car with my loyal son and race support and we drive back to the RV where we were staying. I had a burger. I recovered, slowly. </p><p>I trained. I trained hard, and had some setbacks. Physical stuff (colds, muscle aches and the like). Emotional stuff (challenges with family, feelings of Fatness, Fakeness, and the like). Discipline was ongoing. I needed to get out there, and when I had a run or a workout scheduled, I had to do it. I had to eat a lot, and good food. I needed to reframe my idea about how much protein I need, and how my body should look and act. I had to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night.</p><p>There's a lot of bullshit out there about a lot of things. Particularly about women, as far as I can see. Particularly about what we are or can be capable of. In this instance, I had to unlearn some of society's misconceptions about older women. </p><p>Three little BS turds right here:</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Old people don't need to eat much, especially protein. </li><li>Old women shouldn't exercise too much. Lighter weights, not too much running (bad on the joints).</li><li>We need less sleep.</li></ul><div>If you're over 60, please have a look at your diet and make sure you are getting at least one source of protein with each meal. Start lifting weights asap! Your muscles are shrinking every day. And run, jump, ski, or dance whenever you feel like it. Sleep! If you wake up at five am, have a nap later in the day.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>This isn't one of those "I did it, you can too" pieces. This is: shit happens, and usually we can overcome whatever hurdles are placed in front of us to get where we want, but sometimes we can't.</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>My race was February 17, 2024. I had the idea of running an ultramarathon for a few years, so this was a big deal for me that I'd been preparing for for months. On February 8, nine days before my race and three days before I was due to fly out, I got a phone call. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was Mika's mentor, her teacher, her colleague, and her friend. She sought refuge with me when her demons first started attacking her in the summer of 2023. I tried to keep in touch. She loved the pictures I sent her from my travels. Mountains, desert, my grandson, snow-filled paths. Cactuses. Especially desert. Mika loved the desert, and she loved the outdoors. </div><div><br /></div><div>I ran my first ultramarathon knowing that my lovely young friend didn't find solace in the end, not here on earth anyway. She might not ever get to enjoy the beauty of the desert, the blue sky, the solitude and purity of the desert. Saying she's in a better place is a hopeful platitude, but it's what I hope. I didn't do my final test run of all my gear because I fell into a pit of grief, guilt, and fogginess. So I had a couple of miles of water spurting in the desert. The water in the desert reminded me of the fertility and joy and redemption, second chances, life itself.</div><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6efe3UttjNlBfO87JnW6P6jTTF8nfdt4UDgx7f0gtiG9tdTw1eF6ObPFORpUHuCRwIOET8j3Xp2Td3sJIokGOa1aXU06OF9tT9pBd88WjkR4O0NlmLDJz0xtOOGNaBekRCzxut5ZQKF-B5thDMWjPYOlBRdRKF2RRPpwzeKJ_SbjFDRg4WhGVi0Sej0xo/s1416/53df34d1-6b4b-4513-9573-c8d77b093aeb.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1285" data-original-width="1416" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6efe3UttjNlBfO87JnW6P6jTTF8nfdt4UDgx7f0gtiG9tdTw1eF6ObPFORpUHuCRwIOET8j3Xp2Td3sJIokGOa1aXU06OF9tT9pBd88WjkR4O0NlmLDJz0xtOOGNaBekRCzxut5ZQKF-B5thDMWjPYOlBRdRKF2RRPpwzeKJ_SbjFDRg4WhGVi0Sej0xo/s320/53df34d1-6b4b-4513-9573-c8d77b093aeb.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Did I bring her memory with me? Not for the whole race. Sometimes the grief jumped out at me. But mostly I drank in the happiness I was feeling. That's the thing about dying: you go somewhere we can't reach, until we go there too. So we are left over here, earthside, wondering what to do.</div><div><br /></span></div><div>I think Charles Bukowski said it better than I ever could. Thank you, desert. Thank you, body. Thank you, family. Thank you, Kristina. Thank you, friends, sun, wind, clouds. </span></div><div><br /></span></div><div><h3 class="entry-header" style="border: 0px; font-size: large; line-height: normal; margin: 1px 0px 10px;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski</span></span></h3><div class="entry-content" style="clear: both; color: #333333; margin: 10px 0px; position: static;"><div class="entry-body" style="clear: both;"><p style="margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 10px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">your life is your life<br />donβt let it be clubbed into dank submission.<br />be on the watch.<br />there are ways out.<br />there is light somewhere.<br />it may not be much light but<br />it beats the darkness.<br />be on the watch.<br />the gods will offer you chances.<br />know them.<br />take them.<br />you canβt beat death but<br />you can beat death in life, sometimes.<br />and the more often you learn to do it,<br />the more light there will be.<br />your life is your life.<br />know it while you have it.<br />you are marvelous<br />the gods wait to delight<br />in you.</span></span></p></div></div></div><p></p><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><p></p><div></div><p><br /></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-75679919141990499902024-01-22T21:37:00.000-05:002024-01-23T18:31:07.866-05:00Birthing a Marathon?<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1bpUSLE8RvA72_Dn7RJ2IZiaEJ_8vAlTziMShovslvH_UTjSAKlRQhJQGGTTv1kv5vKnPyOBrY2q0vnEZF1OKjyWR7p_GnHim2Qa5kmL4HcG9cB4JoD8gRp7snpt7zOyzU6JwKVwEalJChj329dt34V47y5q0YbhjqW7p5eRVcNCoEcdsTwILFSRhA/s2048/IMG_2528.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1bpUSLE8RvA72_Dn7RJ2IZiaEJ_8vAlTziMShovslvH_UTjSAKlRQhJQGGTTv1kv5vKnPyOBrY2q0vnEZF1OKjyWR7p_GnHim2Qa5kmL4HcG9cB4JoD8gRp7snpt7zOyzU6JwKVwEalJChj329dt34V47y5q0YbhjqW7p5eRVcNCoEcdsTwILFSRhA/s320/IMG_2528.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">mile 22</div><br />The way I see it, running a marathon and birthing a baby are very similar. I have attended well over 500 births (but under 1000 for those who are into numbers), and these three answers are the most common ones to the prenatal question I ask: "What is your greatest fear?"</span></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dying</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pooping in public</span></li><li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not being able to do it</span></li></ul></div><div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span>I am a ravenous running nerd, and I read everything and anything to do with running, and I believe these are the three main fears of the marathon runner too: no one wants to die (hence the <a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/race-training/are-marathons-dangerous" rel="noopener" target="_blank">plethora of articles</a> about people dying at races; no one wants to have to poop suddenly while running (more <a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/health/how-to-avoid-pooping-during-a-race" rel="noopener" target="_blank">articles</a>; EVERYONE worries about <a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/chatter/dnf-did-not-fail" rel="noopener" target="_blank">not finishing a race</a>, for whatever reason.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>When I am accompanying a pregnant woman, I may speak with her about her fears for the coming event. The number one fear is that her or the baby will die. Number two, fittingly, is that she will poop during the pushing phase. And number three, as in a marathon, is that she will have a <a href="https://www.runtothefinish.com/dns-dnf-push-through-how-to-decide/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">DNF</a> which actually is impossible in birth but, unfortunately, a definite possibility in every runner's mind.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Birthing and Running are the Same?</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>No, they're not the same, obviously, you can't compare a baby to a piece of bling!</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>You can compare some of the feelings, though. The hours, days, weeks and months of preparation. Finding a program or a method that matches your philosophy, or hiring a running coach (or a doula - we used to be called <a href="http://www.birthcoachdoulatraining.com/birth-doula-vs-birth-coach/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">"birth coaches"</a>); learning about nutrition; getting excited, then nervous, then depressed, then excited again; talking to other people who have done it ... of course, if this is your first baby or your first big race, all these feelings and choices will be felt and made in technicolor. If you're more experienced, you will still feel the same range of emotions, and you'll be "in the club".</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>That's where the similarities end, unfortunately.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Running the Drugs?</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Runners, imagine this: You're at mile ten, almost half way through your marathon. You're keeping a good pace, maybe you started a little too fast, because this is your first. Your training went well, and you're feeling good. Mile eleven, you have to pee. You take a quick pee stop. At the next station you have a sip of Gatorade and you start to feel a little queasy, the way you ALWAYS DO when you have some carbs around miles ten to fifteen. You know this about yourself. It's a thing.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Suddenly, a car drives up and a bunch of people jump out, looking at their watches. "Your pace has slowed down too much! You're not gonna make your BQ! You might die!". In your head you know they're wrong, and you try to shut them out and run faster, anyway. But their worried expressions start to seep through your endorphin rush. "Oh, shit, does my heart feel weird?"</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>You let them know you're feeling a little tired, and you had that queasy feeling. All of a sudden, the car speeds up and they make you an offer: "Take some drugs, get in the back of the car, we'll drive you to the finish line, you'll get the bling anyway, all good, no shame, no worries." You protest - you're okay! But a voice in the back of your head says that actually, you're not okay. You need the drugs and you need the car ride. By this time, you're at mile 20 and you hit the wall. Take the drugs, get in the car.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Real Emergencies</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Of course real emergencies exist, both during marathons and during birth. In those cases, there's no question that you need the damn car, preferably an ambulance, and you need drugs, and speedy medical intervention, and everything you could possibly grab for a life-saving conclusion to the RARE instance when you are actually in danger of losing your life (or if you're birthing, your baby's life).</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Your Choice?</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I'm not one of those airy-fairy militants who advocates a natural, candlelit birth for every woman. I've seen babies die, and I've seen women close to dying (Thank God for modern medicine!!). But I do advocate CHOICE. I was just speaking to a fellow runner this morning. She's been running for twenty years and she's never gone further than 15k. She never races. She runs slow. Me, I've been running seriously for just over five years and I love to race. I push myself ... not too much ... but just enough.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I was at a race about a month ago - it was kind of tough: it was pretty cold and at one point the course turned into a muddy, icy puddle for about a kilometer, and it was a loop, so we had to do the puddle twice, once about the middle of the 21 k and once closer to the end. As I was coming up to the first mud puddle, I saw a runner with a weird gait... I got closer and I saw one of the yellow-jacketed medical people going over to him with a concerned air. The runner told him to go away. As I got closer, I heard him groaning with every step. He sounded like a woman in the deepest labor, feeling that baby's head right down low. A second medical person ran up to him: "<em>Non, non, Γ§a va, merci</em>." ("No, no, it's okay, thank you!") I ran past him and didn't look back.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Here's the thing: I knew that if he was in that much pain already, there were two possibilities: either he would not finish the race, and spend months if not years fixing the damage he had wrought on his body; or he would finish the race and ditto. But, for whatever reason, he MADE THAT CHOICE and it was his to make. Obviously, if he was in cardiac arrest, or lying on the ground unable to move, the paramedics would be in there in a microsecond, doing what they need to do. But he was birthing a marathon HIS WAY.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Birth</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>I've witnessed a tiny number of births that ended up to be medical emergencies, where mother or baby could have died. But most of them are normal, scary, joyful, life-changing, painful, pleasurable, primal events. Unfortunately, the people who work in the maternity care field are usually unwilling to adopt the "marathon runner" model, and instead use the <a href="http://www.jogc.com/article/S1701-2163(16)30312-7/pdf" rel="noopener" target="_blank">"air crash"</a> model. In the latter, birth is simply an accident waiting to happen. In the "marathon runner" model, the birthing woman could be treated like a marathon runner: during the nine months before the event make sure you are healthy (I got a cardiac ultrasound done last year before starting my marathon training because of a risk of <a href="https://runningmagazine.ca/leading-cause-sudden-death-young-athletes/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">familial cardiomyopathy</a>); create your team; and start preparing.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Let's skip ahead to the "event": the runner has been trainings for months. She followed a training program, or had a coach guide her through the realities of training to run 26 miles. The birthing woman has been preparing for this day for months as well, and she has been working with her team to make the upcoming event as pleasurable as possible. Both the runner and the birthing woman have possibly been reading everything they can about their upcoming event, and both may have suffered setbacks along the way.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Running</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>And, now, what happens when you're running a marathon? You join a big, happy crowd of people, and you start. As you run the miles, you are handed water, energy drinks, yummy gels, bananas. All along the route there are smiling people, holding funny signs, cheering you on, giving you high fives ... letting you know you're doing great!</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>No one looks at you with a worried look, even if you're the oldest person in the race and the slowest (happened to me on my 60th birthday), they just keep on smiling and cheering, unless, like I said, you're on the ground.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Then why, oh why, did my lovely, young, strong, healthy, well-fed, happy labouring clients get the hairy eyeball from the staff when all they were doing was, basically, the marathon of the day. No smiles, no happy people handing you cute cups of water, no cute cups of energy drinks, no gels, no bananas, no funny signs, no high fives.</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>The epidural rate for first time mothers in Montreal hospitals is over 90% (don't look at the published statistics, they include second-timers who know better, and pull that statistic down to around 60%). Why? Because we focus on the fear aspect (YOU COULD DIE!!), instead of the fun aspect (YOU GO GIRL!!).</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span><b>Fun Stuff</b></span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Yes, the truth is that running a marathon is just plain more fun, and more pleasurable, and better appreciated, than bringing another human into the world. Weird.</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>So, I guess that's why I don't attend births in the hospital too much anymore. It just kind of tickles me when I imagine birthing mamas being treated like runners - and how different it is from the reality:</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>"hey, I know you're planning on running the <a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/general-interest/no-finishers-at-2018-barkley-marathons" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Barkely</a>, but it looks really dangerous. I think you should run it attached to an IV pole."</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Or, "hey, I know you're 60 and you're planning on competing in the <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/pushpa-chandra-completes-2018-world-marathon-challenge-1.4527333" rel="noopener" target="_blank">World Marathon Challenge</a>. This is super dangerous, why don't you just get really stoned and we will drive you around - you deserve it!"</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Or, "you know you could die doing that? Running a marathon/birth/solo travel/sailing/(fill in the blank) is just too dangerous."</span><br />
<span><br /></span>
<span>Yes, I know I'm gonna die one day, and I'll let you in on a secret - so are you. And so is everybody. But I really wanna have fun while I'm doing this crazy little thing called life. Spread the Love!</span><br /></span>
<br /></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-10738790918730052732024-01-21T10:09:00.000-05:002024-01-21T19:52:05.465-05:00Run for Free?<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">I've heard it, you probably have too: "Running is free". Yes, if you run naked and barefoot.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">But most of us need clothes and footwear, at least. What do you have to buy? What do you actually need? What can you get for free or for cheap, and what should you spend your hard-earned cash on?</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #8e7cc3;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Here are some smart shopping tips for runners, coming at you from the frigid north, so these are winter tips β¦ summer tips coming later! Much later! Here is a good info graphic about what to wear in different winter temperatures:</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Shoes </b>are the most important things you will <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">have to buy</span>. Of course, they are one of the most controversial. The running shoe industry is a billion dollar industry that has a healthy growth every year. This is not just because more people are running (which they are, especially women), but because our ideas of formal wear and fashion have changed so it is now perfectly acceptable to wear leggings and trainers to work.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">In the running world, we started wearing specialized shoes about fifty years ago, when a crazy coach made a pair of shoes using a waffle iron to meld the soles into a half-decent shape. That coach went on to found Nike, which is now a gazillion dollar-a-year company. Now there are tens of thousands of models to choose from, and the big controversy revolves around minimalist or barefoot shoes, and those with more support.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In 2004, Vibram came out with the <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="http://us.vibram.com/shop/fivefingers/women/running/" target="_blank">VibramFiveFingers</a></span>. The theory was that wearing these shoes would reduce injuries and increase performance. The shoes feel like youβre running barefoot, and they keep your toes apart. I wore them for a few years and I loved them!</span></div>
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<a href="https://dreamchasercan.blogspot.com/2016/02/run_10.html" target="_blank">Then I went</a> to a slightly more closed shoe, but still minimal. The research actually shows that itβs probably better to wear shoes (see this <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/sweat-science/barefoot-vs-running-shoes-which-is-surprisingly-more-efficient" target="_blank">Runnerβs World</a></span> article), but in 2009, a <a href="http://www.chrismcdougall.com/born-to-run/" target="_blank">book came out</a> that appealed to those runners who wanted to get βback to our rootsβ.</div>
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Born to Run really appealed to me too. I loved it!</div>
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The reality is that you have to find a shoe that suits your foot, your body and your running style. Go to a good running store or an outdoors store and try on a bunch of shoes, or if you have a store in your area with a treadmill and an expert, get them to check your gait and make suggestions.</div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">You donβt have to pick the most expensive model! But you do have to buy new shoes and spend time on choosing the best ones for your feet and for your body and soul. I have a pair of Fivefingers, that I love. I have two pairs of Merrell barefoot. One has a hole in it, so I just wear it to work. One pair I bought to replac</span><span style="color: black;">e them but theyβre not the same model, so not as comfortable. I run in <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">Sayonara Wave </span></span>but itβs winter now and my feet are getting super cold. Maybe time for a pair of winter running shoes? </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim7SxZb9PCjgeQLZBCToNF9lIBvEy9HOuXZNG0NZ0dnWbZiNF3f1VHVW7TCuPTvfOte4D93S0kx9REc1i6sIlQ2GATLUfdQRFrYSgQV0WTJMkz9rOLclaxyE7aBGMw6-tlQ68iuk436tA/s1600/IMG_6746.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim7SxZb9PCjgeQLZBCToNF9lIBvEy9HOuXZNG0NZ0dnWbZiNF3f1VHVW7TCuPTvfOte4D93S0kx9REc1i6sIlQ2GATLUfdQRFrYSgQV0WTJMkz9rOLclaxyE7aBGMw6-tlQ68iuk436tA/s320/IMG_6746.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If youβre running on icy or icy snow, you may want to <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">invest</span> in some traction. I had a look at the reviews and these seem to be the best: <a href="https://kahtoola.com/product/nanospikes/?color=teal&size=medium" target="_blank">Kahtoola</a>. <o:p></o:p>These are also a little pricy, but worth it if it will keep you from falling and breaking a bone! You can just strap these on to your regular shoes, so you your feet wonβt have to adjust too much every season change.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Traction Update: </b>All you have to do is pick an older pair of your shoes, a pair of favourites that are still comfortable. Then you're going to go and buy some sheet metal screws with hex heads (from 1/2 to 3/8 inch are optimum). Here is the screw shoe recipe:</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://skyrunner.com/screwshoe.htm#:~:text=Selecting%20Screws,the%20traction%E2%80%94not%20the%20point!" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Screw Shoes!</a><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span style="color: #444444;">I've been wearing these for a few years now and they're perfect!</span></span></div>
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must be worn with shoes or your feet will hate you, unless youβre wearing Vibram Fivefingers. You have to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">spend a little money</b> on decent running socks: merino wool socks are the best, but two pairs of socks are fine and you donβt have to get $50 socks with inlaid silver. I have two pairs of merino wool socks, because I run in cold weather, and a couple of pairs of cotton socks and Iβm good and my feet love me, more or less. <a href="https://www.injinji.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Injinji</a> are five fingered socks that people either love or hate: I love them! I have a winter pair with five fingered base layer and a woollen over layer. The best!!</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lower Body</b></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">means everything below your waist, down to your socks.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><span style="color: #444444;">You want to keep your muscles covered and warm, but not too warm. In warmer weather, I love to run in a running skirt, so I just have one garment to pull off and on during that frantic pee break at a race. It has soft briefs/shorts underneath and the skirt over top. In cooler weather I have running capris, not skin tight, and in the cold I wear leggings AND a pair of running pants. Or you can wear winter running leggings with a warm pair of shorts over top. You can get all this gear used! I go to Value Village, or you can scour the online garage sales or go to real ones. Okay, maybe you donβt want used leggings, but everything else is WAY cheaper used, and its never used that much, because whoever bought it got tired of running and gave it away. Iβve bought hundreds of dollars worth of running gear for 10% of the price. Also, check out online trading sites in your area. They are a great way to get rid of stuff you no longer need, and pick up stuff you do need, all without exchanging money.</span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Upper Body </b>is basically, torso above the waist.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>What to wear? Short-sleeved, long-sleeved, fleecy, my gramβs old cotton T-shirt? What you want is a reasonable quality short-sleeved running shirt over your undershirt or bra. Wicking is the key word here. It means that the fabric doesnβt trap water, so when you sweat it will allow the moisture to move away from your body and into the air space between the under layer of clothing and the next one. Your two options to achieve this are either synthetics, which simply allow the moisture to pass through, or merino wool, which will absorb the excess water and keep you warm and dry. It is nice if this layer can be snug, as it will help with removing the sweat from your bod, and make you feel cozy. </div>
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Over that, you will want a mid-layer that can be a fleecy or a synthetic long-sleeved shirt or thin jacket. If its really cold, you can put a fleecy vest over those two layers. These layers can be picked up gently used at your local thrift store, or at online or real garage sales. Also, check for clearance sales at outdoor stores. </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Outerwear </span></b><span style="color: black;">You wonβt usually need to wear a jacket over your running wear unless 1. it is raining or 2. it is very cold (below -10 Celsius or 10 Fahrenheit). If itβs raining, obviously you need a waterproof jacket. A light cool rain is lovely to run in, and a waterproof jacket makes you sweat so you have to decide whether to bother with a rain jacket, depending on how cold it is, how rainy it is and where you are running. I got my running rain jacket from an online trading site. I traded a pair of heeled shoes that didnβt agree with my Plantarβs fasciitis, and got a great bright red jacket!</span></div>
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If itβs super cold out, you donβt want a waterproof jacket; you will need something breathable so your sweat doesnβt get trapped inside, which will cool you down. If you are running through the winter in a very cold climate, this may be another <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><b>expensive item</b></span> for your shopping list.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Underwear </span></b>Yes, you have to<b> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">buy underwear</span></b>.</div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">I may be thrifty but I draw the line at wearing someone elseβs undies. Top underwear for men is insignificant. I imagine you guys might want to wear a thermal/wicking undershirt or T-shirt under your base layer. If you have chafing issues, make sure you get your undershirt in a fabric that will be kind to your nipples. Women, you already know the importance of a good running bra. Go and try on a bunch of different bras, <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/running-gear/the-best-sports-bras-of-2017" target="_blank">read up on them</a>; </span>donβt settle for anything that isnβt super comfortable and gives you the support you need. Iβm lucky, being less endowed in the bosom area, so I usually wear a tight-fitting tank top under my base layer and Iβm happy with it. In the summer, though, I like more support just so I donβt feel like people are staring at my small breasts bobbing around.</span></span></div>
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<span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">A big fuss is made of the importance of insulated underwear for men during the colder months. Apparently there is some danger of freezing your junk off. So make sure you get one of the apparently hundreds, if not thousands, of varieties of insulated boxers if you plan on running outside in cold weather.</span></span></div>
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However, us women also freeze our butts off in the cold, because the glutes donβt have that much insulating fat. Iβve gone on runs in very cold weather and been toasty warm everywhere else, but felt like I had actual frostbite on my butt. The danger is, you can also put yourself at risk for a bladder infection if youβre so inclined. Not to mention those cold glutes will affect your running form and may leave you with sore hips.</span></div>
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What to do? I find even with leggings I have this problem, and many women I talk to agree. So weβre looking at finding, buying or making womenβs insulated boxers. There are a few (very few!) brands of merino womenβs boxer briefs: <a href="https://vpo.ca/product/300665/merino-120-boxers-womens?affiliateID=10089&gclid=CjwKCAiAmvjRBRBlEiwAWFc1mGy7y_9YewZT_VopZTllSstIYSCJtu7VR8gj4E5dLw-ediEsBhNZ3hoCigIQAvD_BwE" target="_blank">Valhalla</a>, <a href="https://www.altitude-sports.com/products/norrona-womens-wool-boxer-llll-nor-2707-16?gclid=CjwKCAiAmvjRBRBlEiwAWFc1mG3oWrcE5DxYaK-KaWy9jTR17XXdLfHpLxiZyu3NFLcTX60yhMNH1xoC5jgQAvD_BwE" target="_blank">Norrona</a>, Helly Hansens. They start at around $50. If you donβt have that much, or donβt want to spend that much on undies, you could either get your Aunt Gertrude to knit you a pair, or try cutting a pair of woollen tights at the knee and see if they work. Remember to go commando whenever you can. If youβre wearing leggings and pants, or shorts over top, you donβt need panties as well. The less extra padding you have the better, unless you are wearing it for insulation. ps. I got a pair of <a href="https://www.altitude-sports.com/products/helly-hansen-womens-lifa-merino-boxer-llll-hhn-67093?gclid=CjwKCAiAmvjRBRBlEiwAWFc1mM1ezyYyCe9CohziAt9gbdU9_Ar0J5iUuRAI2GEr11w9aeoUciuEChoCd8sQAvD_BwE" target="_blank">Helly Hansen</a> Women's Boxer Briefs, and they are kind of bun huggers. I was wanting something that would keep my bum warm, and they stop just short of being thongs.</div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">There are three important accessories that you will need if youβre running in cold weather. You need a hat. It should cover your ears. There are so many hats that just cover the top of your head, and theyβre fine if youβre just running for the bus, but if youβre outside doing a two-hour run, your ears need to be covered. Again, you donβt need to buy a hat. You will probably pick one up at a fall or winter race, or at a thrift store, or on the bus (kidding!). Or youβll get one as a gift.</span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">A neck warmer is SUPER important for cold weather runs. I have a <a href="https://www.mec.ca/en/product/5030-180/Merino-Wool-Tubular-Headwear" target="_blank">tube neckwarmer</a>. This is a tube made of thin material, and you can wear it around your neck, or bring it over part of your head, or completely over nose and mouth when its very cold. I <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><b>bought</b></span> mine at an outdoor store, and I got another two at different races. </span></div>
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Gloves! I wear fingerless gloves when itβs not too cold out. A little colder, I wear very thin under-gloves with my fingerless gloves over top. The other day it was minus 14 C, thatβs around 9 F. I wore thin gloves with mitts over top. My hands were warm enough but I spent some time during the run with my hands balled up in my mitts. All my gloves and mitts I have gotten as gifts.</div>
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Read any running magazine and you will be bombarded by advice about this and that extra thing you could use to make your run faster, more fun, more productive, and you get the picture. I am lucky enough to have gotten running watch as a gift for my 60<sup>th</sup> birthday (you may not have to wait so long!). Mine is a <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><a href="https://www.tomtom.com/en_us/sports/running/products/runner-sport-gps-watch/dark-grey/" target="_blank">Tomtom</a></span>, the basic model (no heart monitor attached), and I was very happy with it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Watch Update: </b>My Tomtom died and they stopped making watches so I got on the Garmin train. I have an Instinct. Very durable, reasonably easy to use, gives me everything I need (and more, but I find it pretty easy to configure out the useless stuff. No, I do not want to be notified when I receive a text...)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">I also use my phone a lot when I run. I have the <a href="https://runkeeper.com/" target="_blank">Runkeeper</a> app. When I choose to, which is for about 2/3 of all my runs, I can set it to let me know my pace at various intervals. I also love to listen to music when Iβm running. I only put in one earphone, so I can hear oncoming traffic or dogs or whatever, but I find music is inspiring, helps me run faster, and keeps me in the zone. I know there are purists out there who never listen to music, and thatβs fine too. I love to leave my music at home sometimes and run just listening to whatβs around me, especially when Iβm trail running. </span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">Remember, though, these are extras! You donβt need them!</span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;"></span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: black;">And obviously if Iβm running with my buddies I wonβt be plugged in But mostly, if Iβm in the city, I run on my own and Iβm listening to my favorite upbeat songs.</span></div>
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Skin care is very important when youβre running outside. I always wear a high-quality sunscreen. It is</span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> </span><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">expensive</span>,</b><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"> </span><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">but I need it. You have to find one that suits your skin, and it has to stay on through sweating. Youβre going to sweat even in the winter, and I always sweat, my eyes tear up, and my nose runs during the winter. So my face can get wet and chafed from the neck warmer if I am running in very cold weather. Wear a good sunscreen AND a good moisturizer, and lip balm. If youβre winter running and wearing your neck warmer over your mouth and nose, donβt bother with lipstick. I usually like a nice fresh lipstick for a summer run, but you donβt want to get it all over the inside of your neck warmer, and then all over your face, so stick to lip balm.</span></div>
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Foot care is also important, so treat yourself to a pedi every once in a while, but a good old foot soak (try bath oil and a couple of drops of cypress essential oil) in the evening while your relaxing can do wonders!</div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Races </span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: black;"><a href="https://runningmagazine.ca/five-really-expensive-marathons/" target="_blank">can break the bank!</a></span><span style="color: black;"> Have a look at your budget, at the beginning of your racing year. This could be in January, or when your school year starts, or any time when you can look ahead at 12 months. Decide what races, if any, you would like to go for in the coming year. Then prioritize. Which race (or distance) is the most important? Can you race somewhere else and turn it into a vacation? Are you attracted to one race over another? Do you like the thought of a big race with tens of thousands of participants, lots of bling, and a big party? These are usually presented by big for-profit companies. Or do you like the idea of running to support a charity. Either way, unless you run purely for your own pleasure, you are likely to spend anywhere from $35 to thousands of dollars (if youβve decided that a destination marathon is living your dream). Most of us mortals, however, will spend about $70-100 for a big race every year and then about $100 altogether for a few smaller runs. If you have a gimmick to sell or lots of contacts in high places you may be able to get a sponsorship for your race. That would be amazing!</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Gym membership fees </span></b><span style="color: black;">are not absolutely necessary for a runner, after all, thatβs why weβre runners right? Because we love to run outside! A few reasons for a runner to join a gym: if youβre training for a race, strength training and cross training are important elements of your program, although this opinion is also controversial (have a look at this argument in <a href="https://www.blogger.com/(https://www.runnersworld.com/race-training/to-lift-or-not-to-lift-why-runners-should-strength-train/page/2/0" target="_blank">RunnerβsWorld</a>)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;">I am a gym member because there are days when itβs just too cold, too blizzard or too icy for me to run outside. Also, I love going to a yoga class every week, and I like to take in a spinning class or use the weights β¦ you get the picture. Iβm lucky β I am a member of an amazing <a href="https://www.siscoegym.com/" target="_blank">gym</a>, and Iβm over sixty, so I pay under $60 (thatβs Canadian dollars!) a month. Shop around for a gym that suits you; most of them offer a free week so you can get a sense of what itβs like. If you really donβt want or need to join a gym, thatβs great! Put that extra money towards healthy food to fuel your runs!</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Food </span></b><span style="color: black;">is always useful. If youβre running a lot of miles you will need to eat more, and your food choices need to be right for your body. Donβt go vegan if you are always craving meat. Donβt eat lots of meat if you donβt want to. Every body needs its own sources of protein. You need healthy sources of fat, vitamins, and minerals, and you need to base your diet on healthy carbs. Reduce added sugar to under an ounce a day Look at what youβre eating and drinking β I indulge in a gin and tonic on a Friday evening β a tin of tonic water has 38 grams of sugar! I donβt eat much sugar the rest of the week, but Iβm not sure I want to use my quota on a canned drink!</span></div>
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Do you need <a href="https://www.runnersworld.com/protein/the-definitive-guide-to-using-protein-powder" target="_blank">protein powder</a>?</div>
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Because I worked as a midwife for many years, and I was assisting women through the time in a womanβs life when her nutritional needs skyrocket, I do know that most people in the affluent world eat too much protein. That said, athletes, even amateurs like you or me, need protein to repair those muscles we are building every time we work out. So itβs a good idea to have a protein shake within about a half hour after a long run, if you are so inclined. A scoop of most protein powders will give you 25-30 grams of protein. Thatβs a lot for your body to process, and can be from animal or veggie sources. But itβs helpful, if you can afford it. Those big tubs of protein powder are costly, and if you canβt afford them, then you need to be creative about your grocery shopping and make sure you get a good protein snack after a long run. Basically, any workout where your muscles feel sore means that you have very slightly injured those muscles. Rebuilding them is the process the body is going through to build stronger muscles that will endure more. And you need protein for your building blocks.</div>
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So, do we need to spend a lot of money on our running passion?</div>
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Hereβs a breakdown, per year. For the upper limit I have only gone to a modest limit β of course, if youβre independently wealthy, the skyβs the limit! All figures in Canadian dollars.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Shoes<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>$70-200</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Socks<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>$15-50</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Lower Body<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$20-40</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Upper Body<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$20-40</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Outerwear<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$20-150</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Underwear<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$10-80</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black;">Accessories<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$0-25</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Extras<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$0-200</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Races<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>$0-200</b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">Gym membership fees<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>$0-1200</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="color: #444444;">TOTAL<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>$155-2,185</span></b></div>
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So, it looks like you can either run naked or spend the very minimum of around <b>$150</b> a year on your favorite sport. Looking good to me!</div>
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While weβre on the subject of money, letβs take a peek at some other places you can put your money, now that youβre buying your running clothing at the thrift store.</div>
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<a href="http://www.freetorun.org/">http://www.freetorun.org/</a></div>
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<a href="https://www.girlsontherun.org/">https://www.girlsontherun.org/</a></div>
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<a href="https://yayagirls.wordpress.com/">https://yayagirls.wordpress.com/</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.girlsgottarun.org/">http://www.girlsgottarun.org/</a></div>
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These are just a few of the organizations that are using running as a way to open new avenues for women and girls living in dangerous or difficult situations around the globe.</div>
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Iβd love to hear how youβve found ways to run for cheap, and please let me know about other interesting charities that are supporting young runners! Stay healthy and keep moving!</div>
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Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-6612506628966941892022-12-17T21:19:00.000-05:002022-12-17T21:19:11.093-05:00Travel Guide for Lady Runners<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS20E_y5IEGl2dWIGED0pXID5S4iRbA12B8Kneyd3tQBU6DR0yVYLYT9E9qhGDyyGa-S0Kcy3CTMOL-7-cDoscs0LzYRr-gnXDPr6VTOc8yQbFUYjFOdFt-iJtFnR_89NTk1SlcBl2k4Y-HQ9do4IiN9honfdpE5AzW91Z8Rt2NxYb0dC4mywvJInG-A/s3653/IMG_9263.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3653" data-original-width="2795" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS20E_y5IEGl2dWIGED0pXID5S4iRbA12B8Kneyd3tQBU6DR0yVYLYT9E9qhGDyyGa-S0Kcy3CTMOL-7-cDoscs0LzYRr-gnXDPr6VTOc8yQbFUYjFOdFt-iJtFnR_89NTk1SlcBl2k4Y-HQ9do4IiN9honfdpE5AzW91Z8Rt2NxYb0dC4mywvJInG-A/s320/IMG_9263.heic" width="245" /></a></div><br />Well of course you bring all your running gear: shoes, road or trail, 2 pairs of socks, running shorts or skirt, leggings, rain jacket, buff (maybe 2), hankie, 2 t-shirts, hydration belt or vest, headlamp, sun visor, watch ... and y'all have special little running items you might bring. Of course if you're travelling to colder climes for some icy trail running then you'll need extra pants, gloves, hat and a winter jacket. <p></p><p>The problem is, what else can you stuff in your carry-on after you've packed all your running essentials?</p><p>Just recently, I visited Los Angeles to see my baby grandson, my son and his wife. I got my running stuff safely stowed away in my carry-on. Ok. Then what? Forget bringing presents for everyone. I'm going away for ten days, but it's still ten days of clothing.</p><p><b>What's the best carry-on?</b></p><p>*duffle</p><p>*suitcase</p><p>*backpack </p><p>All three of these bags can have wheels, which makes them more convenient.</p><p>Remember that most airlines allow another bag too, so I don't like the backpack option for my carry-on, since I use the biggest backpack I have for my extra bag. And a duffle can be heavy to carry if you're wandering around an airport. So my conclusion is a small wheelie suitcase is actually the best, or a backpack with wheels if you like carrying heavy bags on your bag. I've tried all three. Last summer I walked through Florence with my carry-on backpack on my back and my small backpack in my hand. It was hot! A few years ago I tied a rope around my too-heavy duffel bag and dragged it through the airport like a dog. Then again, try wheeling a wheelie up a gravel road.</p><p>So, it's important to figure out where you'll be spending time moving your bag from one place to the next, and plan accordingly. Then you also have to figure out your maximum volume "personal item". I have a lovely leather purse but that can't be my personal item because its too small. A backpack is best, preferably one with a water bottle pocket. </p><p>Now you have your carryon, your personal bag, and all your stuff. What to take??</p><p><b>Running Gear</b></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>shoes, road and/or trail</li><li>2 pairs of socks</li><li>running shorts or skirt </li><li>leggings</li><li>rain jacket</li><li>buff (maybe 2)</li><li>toque</li><li>hankie</li><li>2 T-shirts</li><li>arm warmers</li><li>hydration belt or vest</li><li>headlamp</li><li>sun visor</li><li>watch </li><li>protein powder or your favourite gels</li></ul><p></p><p>Of course if you're travelling to colder climes for some icy trail running then you'll need extra pants, gloves, hat and a winter jacket ... and y'all have special little running items you might bring. </p><p><b>Other Clothes</b></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>3 T-shirts</li><li>2 long-sleeved shirt (one fancy)</li><li>fleece or hoodie</li><li>2 pants or skirts (one fancy)</li><li>2 dresses (one fancy)</li><li>5 underwear</li><li>3 socks</li><li>pyjamas</li><li>flips flops</li><li>bathing suit</li><li>regular shoes or boots</li></ul><div><b>Other Stuff</b></div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>jewelry</li><li>shower bag: try to avoid liquids by using bar shampoo, conditioner and soap. Don't forget your travel sized toothpaste, deodorant, mouthwash, nail clippers, and your favourite moisturizer. I love to bring facial towelettes and I always like to have a washcloth</li><li>makeup if you use it</li><li>chargers, laptop, phone, earphones</li><li>book</li><li>journal or notebook, pen</li><li>small day pack/ waist pack or purse</li><li>snacks/protein bar</li><li>water bottle</li><li>earplugs</li><li>vitamins or meds</li></ul><div>Of course you're not going to forget your passport and all your important stuff right?</div></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Annoying Stuff</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Ok, so it's winter here but you're going to somewhere warmer? You do have to wear your winter jacket to the airport, and just pack it into a shopping bag if you don't need it where you're going. It's summer here and you're going somewhere cold? Why on earth would you do that?</div><div><br /></div><div>Presents! If you're going to visit family or friends, or when you're coming home, you want to bring gifts right? But there's no room in your carry-on. You have to think very carefully about gifts, before you pack, and if you plan on bringing a ton of presents and/or bottles back you may want to budget for a check-in bag on your way back. Don't rely on duty free; I've noticed since the pandemics there are often unexpected closures, even in the bigger airports.</div><div><br /></div><div>Bottom line: have fun! Make sure you bring anything you'll need for your daily run! Buon Viaggio!!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-31377724579710779552022-12-14T18:47:00.000-05:002022-12-14T18:47:55.101-05:00Birth (and life) after CesareanI love to listen to birth stories. Many of the stories that I hear are a testimony to the pregnant woman's great ability to "animal out" on her attendant. My favorite is the story of a young woman who had her first daughter by cesarean section She became pregnant again the same month and it turned out she was carrying twins. Her doctor was very alarmed and booked her for a cesarean at 38 weeks, She went into labor at 36 weeks and delivered two lovely girls, vaginally.<br /><br />Of course, women who are trying for vaginal birth after cesarean don't always have such fine stories to tell. Two remarks have stayed with me over the years, and these were both delivered by obstetricians to a laboring woman. The first was: βChildbirth is like war, and I am on the front line.β The second: βThis is Monday morning in a busy hospital. There are road accidents, emergencies β¦β This was said to a woman who wanted to labor a little more before the decision was made to go to surgery, implying that the birth of a child had to be scheduled in somehow between a messy car accident and some other horrific case. Why did this man want to become an obstetrician? How did he feel about his "patients"? How had he been born? What was it about birth that suggested to him images of war?<br />What is it about childbirth that makes these people think in terms of war, car accidents, death? Is it just fear? And if it is, what exactly are they afraid of? And , more importantly, where does the midwife fit into this mosaic of fear, or does she fit in it all?<br /><br />Doctors and midwives who are afraid of childbirth are partly afraid because of their training. Allopathic medicine teaches about pathology rather than the whole healthy being, and pregnancy is often seen as a pathologic condition. But there is another more profound reason for this fear, and it has to do with the fact that Western medical training teaches health workers to rely only upon their own knowledge. How does this lead to fear?<br />Let me explain. During childbirth there is something present that is outside of us as individuals, outΒ side our knowledge, even outside our experience or our skill. That "something" has to do with faith. It is only with a leap of faith that you can appreciate or even accept that a new human being comes out of a woman's vagina. Without that leap of faith, what happens? Two things: more obviously, you have to interfere, pull it out, cut it out another way. But another thing happens as well. Strangely, your faith (most of us have faith in something) gets turned inwards. As an obstetrician, you have faith only in your own skill. And that is what is frightening-- that an event which cries out for the presence of God gets reduced to the simply human.<br /><br />I'm sure that there are obstetricians who works differently, but I think that it is easier for a midΒwife to accept that there is something else, something larger than herself, working through a birthing woman. It is quite noticeable how many midΒwives are religious, how many live in sight of that something which many people call God. But what happens to the sympathetic midwife working within the medical system? What happens to her sensitivity to that Other which touches us when we give birth?<br />I have met many diverse people over the years of working with birth.I have encountered some women who probably disliked their work, who were overtired, overworked, who had little faith in anyΒthing. I have also encountered midΒwives who have accepted modern medicine's vision of birth. And I have met many brave and gentle souls doctors, nurses, midwives, and doulas, who are working within the medical sysΒtem and trying to maintain their faith at the same time.<br /><br />What do we see in a hospiΒtal? We see, first of all, an exaggerΒated reliance upon technology. We know that the use of technology has a snowballing effect, creating the need for more and more complicated interventions. Secondly, we see a rigid hierarΒchical structure in which usually one person is calling the shots. Finally, we see the "spiritual" infrastructure upon which this hierarchy is based, to be inward looking and grounded only in human knowledge.<br />What happens in the hospiΒtal when things start to "go wrong," when things don't follow the preΒscribed path? When I went into the hospital in labor with my first child, the nurse, who was actually a midΒwife trained in Scotland, touched by belly and said cheerfully, "This baby will be born by noon." As time went on, she touched me less and less. By the next morning at the start of her shift, she didn't even greet me. As they let me eat and drink less and less, my cervix grew smaller, I was touched less and I began to feel more and more isolated. I was touched only when necessary. The baby's heartΒ beat was checked less often. I began to feel abandoned. <br /><br />Can I offer some advice to birth attendants working with women who are hoping to give birth vaginally after a cesarean section? Remember that the previous cesarean(s) have left scars not so much on the uterus as on the woman's sense that she is capable of giving birth. Accept that having a cesarean can hurt. Please don't deΒscribe to her how a ruptured uterus may feel. Watch for danger signs yourself. Keep your concerns to yourΒself as much as possible. Remember "failure to progress" can be linked to fear and stress.<br />Keep things easy even when they get hard. Remember that a woman workΒing for a VBAC needs the comfort and security of her own home. RememΒber that she may need to work on building confidence, on throwing away fear, on finding her "animal" self. ReΒmember as well, if it turns out to be another cesarean, don't abandon her. Give her the support through the birth and afterwards that you give any birthing woman. If a lady has another cesarean, she may feel very low; it may help her to talk to another mother who has been through the same thing. Avoid the mistake of "You're lucky the baby's okay.That's the important thing." Yes it is, obviously, but ... she may still need to grieve.<br /><br />I am lucky - I have been blessed to have attended many successful VBACs during my years as a birth attendant. Thank you, again, to all the women who have shown me how fearless and strong birthing women are - not least, the woman who have said "Yes, I am ready for surgery, of course, if my baby's life is in danger."<br />Here's to a happy marriage of modern medicine and safe midwifery, with lower cesarean section rates and happier and healthy mothers and babies. L'Chaim! To Life!Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-42306317825958604082022-11-15T13:31:00.000-05:002022-11-15T13:31:48.204-05:00Sovereign Womanhood and the Misappropriation of Reproduction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJMW-1SPz_tU0Bn6egh5JRKZ69ARf3phgFV0L8A5WT6HaGz2YmxZVaV-yLSyEbCjOcsZyhZVMZ6i_3uNcSiVmeptxu1oXBJorb7D16xDYyLPVgLdCup8yUpGArL2h8lzyJ2WpvdCUOr6z/s113/IMG_3858.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="113" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJMW-1SPz_tU0Bn6egh5JRKZ69ARf3phgFV0L8A5WT6HaGz2YmxZVaV-yLSyEbCjOcsZyhZVMZ6i_3uNcSiVmeptxu1oXBJorb7D16xDYyLPVgLdCup8yUpGArL2h8lzyJ2WpvdCUOr6z/w320-h289/IMG_3858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />We DO have so much power in us. So then how do we end up filing into our hospitals with our birth plans and coming out cut or broken, with a baby in our arms?<br /><br />All over the world, and especially all over North America, women are finding new ways to birth in their own sovereign power. This can be terrifying. It can be fulfilling. It can be both. <br /><br />I am speaking to old women who are attending birthing mothers as Traditional Birth Companions. I speak with younger women, mothers of young children themselves, who are devoting their time to attending the births of the women in their communities. I am speaking with women who have said "No!" to the maternity care system we have installed in our countries, and who are giving birth alone or with their families. I see sisters helping sisters. I see communities that are thriving, attending each other in birth, as in life. <br /><br />Here in Canada, we have very strict regulations about what constitutes someone's right to provide care to a woman during her childbearing year. If you perform any of these restricted practices, without an officially regulated midwifery license, and without being employed by and liable to the health services establishment, then you are practising midwifery without a license. <br /><br />Billie Harrigan is a Traditional Birth Companion in Ontario. She does not perform restricted practices, and she does not call herself a midwife. She says that Vaginal exams are rude, but also that they constitute a very clear message that our reproductive life and our bodies are not our property: they are the property of the state, and only people mandated by the state can invade them. Number 7 of the Ontario Midwifery Act states that vaginal exams are a restricted practice. In other words, you cannot put "an instrument, hand or finger beyond the labia majora or anal verge during pregnancy, labour and the post-partum period."<br /><br />Ok, don't get me wrong here. I don't actually WANT to do vaginal exams. I also think they're rude. Not only that, my doula students have heard me say for years that the only reason for so many endless vaginal exams is that medical professionals are not taught about how sexual birth is. The sexuality and the mind-blowingness and the all-out intensity of birth is sublimated into rituals such as vaginal exams (actually, it is absolutely amazing to feel a baby's head in someone's vagina. Just saying. But I keep my hands to myself.)<br /><br />But my point is, that women have been regulated for far too long. Our bodies have been misappropriated by a maternity system that pretends it is doing things to us for our own good, and it is not. Why do you think many a woman going into the hospital wants (or discovers she needs) a doula by her side? Because the doula can try to prevent some of the grosser abuses from taking place. But not all. And certainly not enough. Not enough to make the difference to so many, many women who feel that they have been violated (and they have!) when all they wanted to do was to give birth to their child.<br /><br />So, what is happening? Just when the pandemic started making our lives more restricted and difficult, women started wanting to birth away from Covid-infested hospitals. We all, as our lives changed, started to take deep breaths and realize that we don't actually want to go back to the old "normal". I am getting weekly calls and emails from women who want to learn about new ways of birthing. I'm connecting with women around the globe who are moving forward to change the face of birth; to change the world, starting with birth.<br /><br />Want to come on board? Come along!<div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">βCome, come, whoever you are. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It doesn't matter. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Ours is not a caravan of despair. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Come, yet again, come, come.β </div><div style="text-align: center;">Rumi</div></div><div><br />And, if you are one of us who has indeed experienced trauma, abuse, and despair during your birthing, even more reason for you to move away from that reality, bring your scars and hold your head up high and cry out: "Enough!"<br /><br />What is to be done?<br /><br />You can listen to the<a href="https://babymagic.podbean.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"> Baby Magic Podcast</a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/#"> </a> for inspiration.<br /><br />You can join my Traditional Birth Attendant seminar.<br /><br />You can reach out to me or to any of the fine women on our podcast for community, information, wisdom.<br /><br />You can reach deep into your womanhood and remember that you are strong! You are magical! I love you!<br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4muxOziWmINe2w9Fk0Osy1Pu3VmEH4EBwTEdvKtpkuAlqfItME0le1PkMWZQPTWTirf_qEEImka9SFxa3qrWdnI2TRk798WsXYvSQebCiOqInh8ooBY1ARvTfI2RnwcHnRmik0wRKDOF/s2423/IMG_0847.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2332" data-original-width="2423" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4muxOziWmINe2w9Fk0Osy1Pu3VmEH4EBwTEdvKtpkuAlqfItME0le1PkMWZQPTWTirf_qEEImka9SFxa3qrWdnI2TRk798WsXYvSQebCiOqInh8ooBY1ARvTfI2RnwcHnRmik0wRKDOF/s320/IMG_0847.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>For those of you who have a legal interest:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span>Here are the restricted practices in Quebec:<br />"Any act the purpose of which is to provide the professional care and services required by a woman during normal pregnancy, labour and delivery and to provide a woman and her child with the professional care and services required during the first six weeks of a normal postnatal period constitutes the practice of midwifery. The professional care and services concerned consist in<br />(1) monitoring and assessing a woman and her child during pregnancy, labour, delivery and the first six weeks of the postnatal period, and include the provision of preventive care and the detection of any abnormal conditions in the woman or child ;<br />(2) conducting spontaneous deliveries ;<br />(3) performing an amniotomy, performing and repairing an episiotomy and repairing a first or second degree perineal tear or laceration.<br /><br /><br />In addition, in an emergency, while awaiting the required medical intervention or in the absence of medical intervention, applying suction, conducting a breech delivery, performing manual placental extraction followed by digital exploration of the uterus or performing resuscitation procedures on the woman or newborn also constitutes the practice of midwifery." <br />(http://legisquebec.gouv.qc.ca/en/ShowDoc/cs/S-0.1<br />In Ontario, they are much less vague: <br /><br /><br />"1. Communicating a diagnosis identifying, as the cause of a womanβs or newbornβs symptoms, a disease or disorder that may be identified from the results of a laboratory or other test or investigation that a member is authorized to order or perform on a woman or a newborn during normal pregnancy, labour and delivery and for up to six weeks post-partum.<br /><br />2. Managing labour and conducting spontaneous normal vaginal deliveries.<br /><br />3. Inserting urinary catheters into women.<br /><br />4. Performing episiotomies and amniotomies and repairing episiotomies and lacerations, not involving the anus, anal sphincter, rectum, urethra and periurethral area.<br /><br />5. Administering, by injection or inhalation, a substance designated in the regulations.<br /><br />6. Prescribing drugs designated in the regulations.<br /><br />7. Putting an instrument, hand or finger beyond the labia majora or anal verge during pregnancy, labour and the post-partum period.<br /><br />8. Administering suppository drugs designated in the regulations beyond the anal verge during pregnancy, labour and the post-partum period.<br /><br />9. Taking blood samples from newborns by skin pricking or from persons from veins or by skin pricking.<br /><br />10. Intubation beyond the larynx of a newborn.<br /><br />11. Administering a substance by injection or inhalation as provided for in subsection 4.1 (2). 2009, c. 26, s. 16 (1). (https://www.ontario.ca/laws/statute/91m31)"<br /></span><p><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-22070495967481678442022-11-13T18:46:00.000-05:002022-11-13T18:46:54.832-05:00Unassisted ChildbirthBack in the good old days, when I was a subsistence farmer in paradise, I had a friend who told me her birth story. This was before I started working with birth, but not before I had already started studying and learning, and listening to women's stories.<div> <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBszwSgcxF6UsEjwcgZW5IzLAe1sTa2D2zFdaZGgScW4KO9mVJ45apmO2Id9kY76cgzFMgvOAeTtUv5P3ZAkBgsEmtPFsEqS67Fw9MHe2d9g_4RbyDjLaBvmBFuxRdREXA_SLnnytu9o/s1600/ScannedImage-2.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBszwSgcxF6UsEjwcgZW5IzLAe1sTa2D2zFdaZGgScW4KO9mVJ45apmO2Id9kY76cgzFMgvOAeTtUv5P3ZAkBgsEmtPFsEqS67Fw9MHe2d9g_4RbyDjLaBvmBFuxRdREXA_SLnnytu9o/s320/ScannedImage-2.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center;">Friends Sharing Birth Stories</td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table> My friend's first baby had been a breech who did not want to get her head down. The policy at that time in Italy, as in many places, was to deliver breech babies by cesarean section, especially if the woman was a primipara.<br /><br />So, my friend had a c-section, and she did not feel good about that birth at all. She thought that it was probably possible to give birth to a breech baby vaginally, and she felt pushed into making a decision that did not feel right to her. She decided she didn't want to go back to the hospital again to give birth.<br /><br />She became pregnant again, and decided to stay at home this time and give birth on her own terms. She looked for a homebirth midwife but at that time in Italy they were a rare breed, especially if you were living in the hills as all us organic subsistence farmers did. She prepared by reading about natural birth, and she made sure she had methergine in the house - they always had it on hand for the goats.<br /><br />Labor started and she sent her husband and child out for the day. She didn't want her daughter present for what she knew was going to be an intense and possibly scary event.<br />This was before cell phones, and they didn't have a phone, so he planned to come back around suppertime. She labored on her own and late in the afternoon, gave birth to a healthy baby.<br />"Were you scared?"<br />"Yes, I really wanted to have someone else around. I remember when I started pushing, and I felt a cervical lip, and I gently pushed it out of the way - I really wanted someone to be there with me. But I knew everything would be okay - I had a feeling. And if it wasn't ok, then it wasn't. I did it my way."<br /><br />There is a growing movement that promotes unassisted childbirth as a way to regain control over your own birth, and there are many valid reasons for not wanting anyone at all from outside your circle of family and loved ones to be present at the birth of your child. It is, after all, a natural event, more like lovemaking than like a medical procedure. The presence of a stranger, even a well-liked one, can change and disturb the process. Midwives can be regulated by laws that perhaps don't agree with a woman's perception of how she wants her birth to proceed. This site provides some interesting information about unassisted childbirth:<a href="http://www.unassistedhomebirth.com/" target="_blank">UC</a><br /><br />I often get calls from women who are planning to give birth without attendants. They want information, or they want to find someone to be a "fly on the wall" - who can be there "just in case". Most of these women are women who have not been able to find a registered midwife - either they didn't call early enough, or they live in the wrong area, or they are considered too high risk for a homebirth. They don't really want an unassisted birth, but they are committed to not wanting to go to the hospital unless they really have to, so they are left with unassisted birth as their only option. Because we Canadians are used to free health care, cost is also a consideration. Unregistered midwives charge around $2000 for prenatal, birth, and postpartum care (that works out to about $10.73 an hour, in case you're wondering). Many women do not feel that this amount is an option, and, again, make the choice to give birth "unassisted".<br /><br />I firmly believe in a woman's right to choose what's best for her body, and for her life. If a woman chooses to give birth on her own, or just with her partner, or her sister, in her own home, then power to her! She is making an adult choice, and she is accepting responsibility. But I do feel sad when women want to have the care of a midwife and cannot.<br /><br />No woman should have to give birth on her own if she doesn't want to. Midwifery care should be available, really available, to any woman. Homebirth should be an option for us all. Unassisted homebirth is only one option, but it should be an option that is actively chosen and not decided on for lack of other plans. Equally, hospital birth is only one option. Health women carrying healthy babies should not have to go to the hospital to give birth unless they actively want to. Informed choice should be a reality - it should be informed, that is, women should educate themselves and each other, and they should ask for informtaion from their care providers. And choice should be a real choice with real options - unassisted, home birth, midwifery care, hospital birth.<br /><br />Let's work together to bring the woman and child back to the center of maternity care!<br /><br /><br /></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-65271903313432432312022-11-13T15:18:00.000-05:002022-11-13T18:39:06.854-05:00She's Too Radical<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu3gs82_NKj8AIrgZksWpemhuHmedAKCvuYVT_YFqyEp23xb_h37QnJxTsnn3azxuogWuaknKwsEbMajUMh3DCpbkbut9Xl-ZF1Jz35gKOqAHJ2doB-CQT-E2OVz_rDK193-gKibJUM0/s1600/MrsTiggyWinkleTea+withLucie.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu3gs82_NKj8AIrgZksWpemhuHmedAKCvuYVT_YFqyEp23xb_h37QnJxTsnn3azxuogWuaknKwsEbMajUMh3DCpbkbut9Xl-ZF1Jz35gKOqAHJ2doB-CQT-E2OVz_rDK193-gKibJUM0/s1600/MrsTiggyWinkleTea+withLucie.jpg" /></a></div>When I look in the mirror these days I see a caricature of Mrs. Tiggywinkle. My body changed over the past ten years. Even though I still run four kilometers three or four times a week, and I feel quite fit, more or less, my shoulders have changed shape, my waist has thickened, my grey hair is down to my bum but no one ever sees it because I wrap it in a scarf, and...well, I feel different.<br /><br />Mrs Tiggywinkle, however, is a laundress. She is an independent female: round in shape, granted, and she is a little perhaps neurotic, but she takes care of herself, of her small house, does other people's laundry AND makes friend with a little girl in distress.<br /><br />And she's got fearsome prickles.<br /><br />Is she radical?<br /><br />I met a prospective client the other day. Lovely woman, nice partner. She had heard about me through one of the long grapevines that eventually lead my way. I'm not big on advertising, publicity, I never wanted to be on Oprah, and I don't have a fan club. So people usually hear about me from other women in a round about way.<br /><br />But this lady had gone through a list of doulas in Montreal, found them wanting, and came to me. And she expressed one doubt, which was that I may be "too radical".<br /><br />Radical has its root from root: <i>from Late Latin "radicalis" ("<span></span><span>of or pertaining to the root, having roots, radical")</span><span></span>, and from <span>Latin</span> radix<span><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/radix" title="radix"></a></span> <span>(</span><span>β</span><span>root</span><span>β</span></i><span><i>)</i>. </span><br /><span>And the definition is:</span> <i>Favouring fundamental change, or change at the root cause of a matter. </i><br /><i><br /></i>What is the root cause of the birth matter? I believe the root cause of abusive maternity care shares its root with woman abuse in every aspect of our lives. So, in "favouring fundamental change", I am going to go to the root of the matter. I am not going to spout empty slogans and run other women's lives according to my agenda.<br /><br />The root of birth abuse is a culturally useful and familiar disrespect for women in general, and for birthing women in particular. If I am going to practice as a radical doula, then my priority will be respecting the birthing woman. To this end, I will not persuade her to make choices that conform to me agenda. Ever.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqA0Ylq8Mi7cz7C6H5vsrOB_Vp0Mh_bkBkamCw9GPQWKVnh0i15FNw4DQKj6MkQ9mtLp-4BGqa-97C7H-08KBo8gp_gWy_f55p9wheJdHTFbiVEGVNJ0deZFGrI3AGHgrwb4M4VRxxkaI/s1600/170px-Deux_furies.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqA0Ylq8Mi7cz7C6H5vsrOB_Vp0Mh_bkBkamCw9GPQWKVnh0i15FNw4DQKj6MkQ9mtLp-4BGqa-97C7H-08KBo8gp_gWy_f55p9wheJdHTFbiVEGVNJ0deZFGrI3AGHgrwb4M4VRxxkaI/s1600/170px-Deux_furies.png" /></a><br /><br /><br />The woman I met may have been imagining a furie, a Roman goddess of vengeance, guarding the door of the birth room with an eye to exacting payment for past wrongs.<br /><br />The furie would insist that the woman follow <u>her</u> rules: no interventions, under any circumstances; upright positions throughout; lots of vocalizing required; partner hands-on at all times.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />But radical doulas are not furies. We respect the desires of the women we accompany. We melt our egos and support the woman's choices. Our agendas stay at home. We are just and fair, possibly to a fault. It is a fine line between supporting a woman during childbirth and feeling like you are witnessing, indeed apologizing for, an abusive act that should be named. But in the naming, the birth process is damaged. Our role is to bear witness, to take notes, and to love the one you're with.<br /><br /><br />Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-13928196155540745252022-07-27T11:03:00.000-04:002022-07-27T11:03:54.649-04:00Rest, Recovery, Reflection, Renewal?<p>I am sitting on a hilltop in northern Italy, rather completely on my own. My dog is here. I'm surrounded by insects, animals (deer, wild boars, the odd wolf, badgers, and all that). I planned for a very active summer, running at least 40 k a week, which I love doing - running long distances is literally my happy place. But then some stuff happened and I got Covid and now I just feel cellularly tired. So every day I spend quite a few hours just sitting staring out at the view. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwVJUUzsPTjxzGR5r7AeSgjOO6eDWrcBwguLlig4rNbf2S637K97TS99OJlg0KImfawSBOQ4qL11UuzAu2e4g8-uEO34tZoq8MsMkxPs8OAzVQopYHyxtR2l4m4v_SQN5AKRswXptnDIN8EwY9sXFL5crhgUsA7iyQ8lhcU7dr9OB4mnlot0IH2Cchwg/s3840/TCUI5886.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3840" data-original-width="2160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwVJUUzsPTjxzGR5r7AeSgjOO6eDWrcBwguLlig4rNbf2S637K97TS99OJlg0KImfawSBOQ4qL11UuzAu2e4g8-uEO34tZoq8MsMkxPs8OAzVQopYHyxtR2l4m4v_SQN5AKRswXptnDIN8EwY9sXFL5crhgUsA7iyQ8lhcU7dr9OB4mnlot0IH2Cchwg/s320/TCUI5886.JPG" width="180" /></a></div><br />And what I've been asking myself is that difficult, age old question: Who Am I?<p></p><div>When you spend hours alone, especially in a spot where silence is the overwhelming sound, you get a chance to really "dig deep" and find out what your questions are. I can't really believe that I have been inhabiting this body and mind and soul I guess for nearly 66 years and I still don't really know who or what I am. So, let me start at the beginning, well maybe not that far back but ... </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Names</b></div><div>I guess you all know the story about how Toni Morrison got her name. Toni she decided on herself, after converting to Catholicism at age 12 and naming herself Anthony. Morrison was her husband's name and she was stuck with it because when her first novel was published she was still using it as her legal name even though they were already divorced. There's an quote floating around from 1992 that goes like this: </div><div>"<span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I am really Chloe Anthony Wofford. Thatβs who I am. I have been writing under this other personβs name. I write some things now as Chloe Wofford, private things. I regret having called myself Toni Morrison when I published my first novel, The Bluest Eye.β</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style=" font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, the same kind of thing happened to me. I'd always been Niki, or Nicky when I was very young. Or Nicola when my parents were mad at me. Then in my forties I had a brush with religion - not Catholicism - and I was persuaded to change my name. So I changed it to Rivka, a name I don't even like that much, but who gets to pick their own name. And then my work as a doula, birth companion, teacher, author and my whole birth persona grew wings under the guise of Rivka Cymbalist and there I was, and here I am, just like Toni Morrison (ha!).</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So, for now, Niki is reserved for my family and people who knew me before the Great Name Change. But I'm kind of getting tired of inhabiting two separate lives so I may just change my name again.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Bodies</b></span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Who knew? Bodies change. I thought the biggest change would be that infamous time when I grew breasts and got my period. Pregnancy was fun. I didn't have such a tough time with it, in fact I enjoyed growing babies. Birthing them was tough, but I really loved having little babies and children around, and breastfeeding, and those body changes didn't really bother me. Some fibroids, a touch of hyperthyroid. Nothing serious. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Menopause was kind of a relief, no more monumentally Niagara Falls cycles. No more fertility, and I was ready for that, because I was happy with my five children. Did I think I'd overdone it? No.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But then, the thing is, everyone goes on about menopause because it's when a woman is no longer fertile and I guess biologically speaking no longer useful. But the body changes more dramatically and more quickly after the whole menopause thing is history.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've written about this before, and I have to point out, it's not specific ailments that bother me - thank goodness - I'm healthy. But just like during puberty and adolescence, and I'm imagining anyone with body dysmorphia, I just don't feel right in my skin. Its like my clothes don't fit me right, except they do. My clothes fit, I still take the same size more or less, a medium. But it's my skin that doesn't fit. It feels weird, it's too loose, it's floppy, it doesn't feel like its mine. I look funny in the mirror, who's that old lady? Why is her skin all dry? damn it, why didn't I wear sunscreen for all those years? </span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">So that's the tunnel I can fall down when I don't remember to center and use moisturizer every morning. Yes, it is my body, yes indeed I am very grateful and proud of it, it's like an old car, just keeps on chugging. But I can't help it, it feels weird.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-variant-ligatures: common-ligatures;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><b>Profession</b></div><div>Oh goodness, could I just say I'm a witch? I guess not....but this is weird too because I think I studied witchery and magic my whole life, and science too of course. And poetry, and of course I learned all about having kids and all when I went ahead and had five of them. </div><div>But my professional label doesn't exist, because I'm not a registered midwife. I'm a birth companion or whatever. My Impostor Syndrome kicks in frequently; sometimes I think my actual profession is "Impostor".</div><div>I've mostly been a mother. </div><div><br /></div><div>And the renewal part of this whole exploration? It's a deep, deep sense that change means pain, and from pain comes change. Life just doesn't stop, until it does. So, in a sense, my resting, my recovery, my reflections ... lead to a renewal of sorts which is a kind of an acceptance of the continually changing nature of my life: child, young woman, mother, older woman, mother, older woman, grandmother, mother, birth attendant, peace keeper, rebel, anarchist, runner, crone...</div><div><b><br /></b></div>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-63960694733049255212022-07-20T10:53:00.000-04:002022-07-20T10:53:36.758-04:00Safe Birth?These days, we have all become experts at reading articles in medical journals, or studies, and we casually use words like "exponentially" and "virus shedding" and "evidence-based". So, I am not going to go that route again, and quote this or that <a href="https://www.cochrane.org/" target="_blank">Cochrane</a> review that will further convince you that I'm right. I don't even want to think in terms of who's right and who's wrong. I want to go deeper than that. Way deeper. I want to explore what makes birth sacred, and what keeps it sacred, and therefore safe.<div><br /></div><div>I have witnessed three newborn deaths in my doula practice. Two in particular stand out for me. One took place in a birthing centre, and the birth was attended by midwives. I was the doula. When it was clear that the baby was in serious trouble, the midwives, in their fear and panic, became insensitive to the mother's emotional needs. They told me, the doula, to leave. Mother felt isolated, abandoned, and traumatized even more than she had to be. These midwives, don't get me wrong, did everything they should have done medically, to try to save baby's life. But they completely ignored the spiritual, emotional, transcendent nature of birth. Conversely, I was present when another baby died soon after birth in the hospital. The medical staff provided a space where the parents could hold their child and say goodbye. The parents wanted me there, so I hovered, as a good doula does. The fact that they even had spiritual needs was fully honoured by the doctor, the nurses, and the orderly. </div><div><br /></div><div>Both mamas lost their babies. Both mamas grieved. But both mamas were not traumatized for years. Because one mother felt safe during her birth experience, and the other did not.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, what can we do to keep birth sacred? I believe if the sacred nature of birth is remembered at all times, then the attendants will be naturally drawn to keeping the mother safe at all times. Sacred. Just play with the letters a little bit. Scared. Being scared during childbirth is something that has a physiologic root. When our bodies release the stress hormones that initiate the "ejection reflex", our busy brains interpret those feelings as "scared". I have attended the most natural, undisturbed, physiologic births where I have seen the mother become afraid at that moment. It passes, it's transient because it's just a reaction to a physiologic event.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I've also attended too many births where the birthing mother was actually afraid. She was actually made to feel afraid by the words or actions of her attendants. I often found my job as a doula to be one of shielding, holding the sacred space, creating a human sound barrier between the abusive staff and the birthing mama. Scared destroys sacred. It degrades sacred, pulls it down, tears it apart. Scared does not belong anywhere a mother is giving birth. Even if you're the primary attendant, and you are scared because of something that's happening, your priority is to keep that fear from entering the space.</div><div><br /></div><div>If a birth attendant doesn't believe that birth itself is sacred, then we run into problems. If you think it's just another medical procedure, then it makes it more complicated. But every doctor knows that a happy patient heals quicker and better than an angry or lonely one. So even if we're not talking "sacred" because some people are scared by the word, we can still try to keep the birthing mother happy, right? And a happy mother feels safe.</div><div><br /></div><div>Our maternity care system is broken. Too many women go into the experience with no understanding, and they trust their medical caregivers of course, because why not? And they are sadly betrayed. They're told all sorts of scary things: your baby is too big, you're too old, you have a something percent of this or that horrible thing happening, you won't be able to stand the pain, your baby is too small, you live too far for a home birth, there are no midwives, you have to pay $10,000 before you can even think of birthing here, and on and on. Many, many women give birth just fine within the medical system, often with the loving attendance of a doula. These women are a testament to the strength of the birthing mother. But too many do not give birth just fine. They leave the hospital or the birthing centre traumatized and confused. Some traumatic birthing experiences literally take years to recover from. Other women live their whole lives with feelings of inferiority and a damaged sense of worth. Still others spend their whole lives to make the birth experience sacred and safe for other women (Yours truly!). </div><div><br /></div><div>There is a growing number of women who are taking the situation into their own hands, and their own homes. They are saying "no" to maternity care that is based on fear, and they're giving birth on their own terms, in their own homes, with people around them who they trust. Keeping birth sacred. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't believe a normal pregnancy and birth belongs in a hospital. Hospitals are places where you go when your health is at risk, or you need surgery. Normal birth is sacred and belongs at home. The undisturbed mother feels safe, and everyone around her participates in the sacredness of the event. This has become clear during the current crisis, where the role of the hospital has been clarified by the event. </div><div><br /></div><div>But if we bring birth home, where it belongs, then are we sacrificing another kind of safety? If we don't have midwives who are trained in the art and science of attending Sacred Birth, then every home birth will be a "freebirth". Which is fine for those mothers who want that. But many birthing women want to have someone present, who knows about the things that can and do happen during birth, when it is important to have someone attending who knows how to respond. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm asking questions. I don't have practical answers yet. I am grateful for you doulas out there who are still attending births in the hospitals, and I strive to support you as much as I can. I am grateful to the birthing women I attended throughout my practice, who taught and continue to teach me so much about Sacred Birth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let's talk this out! Let's strive for answers! Let's change birth and keep it Sacred!</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCWWn0t5hEcgaMpB9cH4P1UHTOE-luermOQoq8PoD2bGqNBVUjuZCeQ6AGHu1v9PiqHChcynuu0t7vP6sb2bgcfszFxs5z6emzZrPd0XC0i0XW1DmUfAEHl2_ohQYPsOOJ0GFfEh2dDXj/s143/IMG_3092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="143" data-original-width="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCWWn0t5hEcgaMpB9cH4P1UHTOE-luermOQoq8PoD2bGqNBVUjuZCeQ6AGHu1v9PiqHChcynuu0t7vP6sb2bgcfszFxs5z6emzZrPd0XC0i0XW1DmUfAEHl2_ohQYPsOOJ0GFfEh2dDXj/d/IMG_3092.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-54759241786017050312022-07-17T07:33:00.002-04:002022-07-17T08:42:41.143-04:00Ladies Pee in the Woods<p>A reasonably long time ago, when I just had two babies, we moved to a small village in Umbria, Italy, and lived for a few years in a medieval tower that was in the center of the village. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKgidCD1h-4NX5wzPiJSMgi-lN__WN7vS50D6dsmHWCOnQoKjp1Y2otAuzZF22PGsOCH24MbdL9RyhrM5FSrhTRwfglStjm_B_Jth_w3zo0ESXLP3cS917swfRh3A3aQbcKiAF7b9yOGowgWtTfr6vyQa8mSZjfjEyeXftRrHg1pMFrdDbQd0Baj3/s450/Panorama2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="450" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKgidCD1h-4NX5wzPiJSMgi-lN__WN7vS50D6dsmHWCOnQoKjp1Y2otAuzZF22PGsOCH24MbdL9RyhrM5FSrhTRwfglStjm_B_Jth_w3zo0ESXLP3cS917swfRh3A3aQbcKiAF7b9yOGowgWtTfr6vyQa8mSZjfjEyeXftRrHg1pMFrdDbQd0Baj3/s320/Panorama2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Life was good. I hung out with the ladies of the village, the crones, and I learned Italian. One story that was told was about a very devout, good-hearted woman who was a child during the Nazi occupation of that area of Italy. A young German soldier came to her and asked her what the best leaves were to wipe with after having a crap in the woods. She carefully led him to a patch of stinging nettle and assured the poor young man from Heidelberg or some other urban center that this plant was definitely the best for bums. Luckily, there was no retribution, I imagine the young man was just too embarrassed.</p><p>But the takeaway is: be careful what you wipe with! My funniest peeing accident was when I was on a fantastic cross country ski trip. We were in a little glade so I told the group to go ahead as I had to pee. No wiping was happening: it was cold as balls and I just needed to get the job done. What I hadn't counted on, however, was the irritating fact that my pee would become a slippery slushy as it hit the cold snow, and so my skis became as wings and I shot off down the hill with my pants around my knees. Great hilarity!</p><p>About a month ago I got a call from an absolutely lovely woman who was consulting with me during her late pregnancy and birth. She had gone camping with her partner around her due date, and had wiped with <a href="https://www.amnh.org/learn-teach/curriculum-collections/biodiversity-counts/plant-identification/tips-to-identify-poison-ivy" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">poison ivy</a>!!! I basically never wipe with anything that has a three-leaf pattern. Well, actually I'm more of a drip dry gal, but more of that later.</p><p>Poison ivy or any of the poison oaks are NOT something you want to irritate your vulva with, ladies! </p><p>If we are talking poo, then learn about some of the common leaves you might want to use. Make sure you are hiking or camping with a latrine trowel, and if you're packing in and using toilet paper then you have to pack it out or burn it (depending on your opinion on the matter). Leaves that are good to use are mullein, or any mosses. </p><p>For pee, for us women, we have a few options. I don't like squatting in the forest because I'm very conscious of ticks in my area. So I like to find a rocky or sandy spot, or I'll use my <a href="https://www.shewee.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Shewee</a>. This is a handy little device that helps you pee standing up. I know there are quite a few women out there who are good at directing their urine without help, but I find the Shewee invaluable. Wandering around some foreign town with no bathrooms in sight? Your male friend can just duck behind anywhere and take a leak? On a trail run where you don't want everyone to catch sight of your behind? In a tick-infested forest and you don't feel like squatting? Also, just saying, with five sons and a husband I do find it fun to finally be able to do what they've been doing since they discovered peeing: spray urine hither and thither! Best to practice in the shower...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGIKBlpVv6FbGuUDKvtQeP4SIsgmI0fgLP21SJN6DHLdIOhCYvsgQz9wjv8l6f-DQm3vPisdIkVj5jAoza_fJJtTqwAxZbC-qvqV5cwL6LKCAdl4fB4-hUbbQ44uVUMbCWFqLMImLW0Wh8Si-Qx5zGyBMuUWEjyK7irOByXpsYeBSr7N8gK0XLTJ4/s4032/IMG_8058.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGIKBlpVv6FbGuUDKvtQeP4SIsgmI0fgLP21SJN6DHLdIOhCYvsgQz9wjv8l6f-DQm3vPisdIkVj5jAoza_fJJtTqwAxZbC-qvqV5cwL6LKCAdl4fB4-hUbbQ44uVUMbCWFqLMImLW0Wh8Si-Qx5zGyBMuUWEjyK7irOByXpsYeBSr7N8gK0XLTJ4/s320/IMG_8058.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Sheweeβ</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> βKula Cloth</span></div>If you just want to squat and for whatever reason you don't want to drip dry (chafing, especially while trail running, is a big deal), then please don't pack in wads of toilet paper or kleenex! No matter how well you think you've hidden it, it will reappear and pollute and look awful.<p></p><p>Enter the <a href="https://kulacloth.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Kula Cloth!</a> This excellent little anti-microbial, colorful, creative piece of gear is a must for all of us who enjoy hiking, camping, trail running, or any activity where you gotta squat and you don't have the tp. Living in a big city where public bathrooms are gross? Kula Cloth! Running long distances in urban spots? Shewee! </p><p>Remember, if you're peeing or pooping in the woods, please be conscious of others. Don't poop within 70 steps of any water source, campsite, or trail. Don't pee near smaller creeks or ponds. If you're in a bigger river, lake or the ocean, feel free to pee!</p><p>Also, for those who are thinking of others less fortunate: when I was working in the refugee camps in Greece, the portapotties were very scary places at night, and filthy during the day... could someone without a home benefit from a sheewee? </p><p>Wherever your travels take you, home or to far off lands, you'll always have to pee! Please, avoid the poison oaks, avoid throwing your tp around, and have fun!</p><p><br /></p>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-26485987882122487362022-05-23T12:55:00.002-04:002022-05-23T12:56:04.288-04:00Belonging and Ur: Thinking about Home"<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="arial, sans-serif">You finally leave home, the Ur of we, and you find another we? Another place that's just like that, the substitute for that</span><span face="arial, sans-serif">?" *</span></span><div><br /></div><div>I know so many people who are drawn to a place. They consider it their home. I've never had that feeling about a place. Yes, I loved the smell of the market in Kampala when I returned 20-odd years later. I'm guessing it stimulated something in my amygdala that my lizard brain appreciated. And I do love the Rockies, as you all know. I love remembering the feeling of being young and fearless, and I love the feeling of recognizing how tiny I am in the bigger scheme of things. Oh, and I love hanging out in my house in Montreal, I love the couch, I love the smell of patchouli in the air from my morning baths. </div><div><br /></div><div>But drawn to a place? Having roots, like a tree or whatever? Not for me. I yearned after it for years. I ran to Africa and traipsed around there for a couple of years, trying to imagine myself at home. I joined various communities: the radical feminists, the Left, the Ultra-Orthodox Jews, the underground midwives. I created a large family and I generally feel "at home" when I'm with my kids and their spouses. I always feel at home with my baby grandson!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>And I always feel at home when I out there running, placing one foot on the ground, then the other, then the exact same thing, over and over and over again, the farther the better. And I feel at home when I'm curled up on my couch, reading a good book. Or when I'm on a trip, going somewhere in a car or a train or a boat or a plane. In the Sahara desert in a truck. In the mountains of Morocco with a young girl who's leading me to a cool mountain stream. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I digress. These are all the places I've been ... not really places I actually could call my home, in any true sense of the word. Although maybe .... maybe what I feel is home just ain't what you feel is home. Maybe my wanderlust is deep, so deep that only when I'm moving do I feel "at home". That's why I speak English with a kind-of British accent; French with an Italian accent, Italian with an English accent and a couple of words of Hebrew with a Canadian accent... it's why I can have wonderful conversations with people who I've never met before, and with whom I don't share a language. We use sign language, love, and a willingness to understand and be understood.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've met many people over the years who have had to flee their homes to settle in a completely new place. I've met families with young children who left a home that was destroyed, who walked for miles only to get on a leaky boat, and if they survived that they walked some more and then had to live in a tents for months and then they could start their new lives in a new country... and they always had their old home in their hearts, even if they knew they would never go back. </div><div><br /></div><div>I dream about the house I spent most of my childhood years in. But I don't look back and think "ahhhh, home." But if I just remember a feeling that I had in the back of a truck in Saskatchewan when I was fifteen, and I could feel the wind in my hair and I had no idea what was coming next ... "ahhh, home". Home, for me, is the movement from one place to another. It is never "we". It is always "I" and it can get lonely. I share my home with others - my husband shares it, and my kids and their lovers and my grandson. It's a big tent, but a moveable one. A nomad's home. A snail shell.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I'm assisting a woman giving birth, one of my many goals is to create a "home" for her, for her baby, and for her circle. I do this in many ways: sometimes with my physical presence, sometimes with my knowledge, sometimes with suggestions for her about choosing her team of support. Giving birth to another human is about one of the biggest transitions a person can make, so if I can facilitate a feeling of being "at home" through that transition, I have done my job well. To clarify, when a woman is "at home" during her birth-giving experience, she feels as if she is at the center of that experience, which is exactly where she actually is. Many maternity situations these days successfully pull a birthing mother away from that center, and away from that home. Whenever she is told that she "should" or "shouldn't" do something; whenever she is made to feel ignorant or foolish; whenever she understands that she hasn't somehow lived up to other peoples' expectations of her, then a birthing woman will feel exiled from her home and pushed out of the center of that primal experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I want to make clear that I am not saying that it's only experiences that are within hospitals, or with OBGYNs that can make a woman an exile in her own birth experience. It's more common within these institutions, for sure, but then again the majority of women now in Canada are giving birth within institutions. I am saying, however, that WHOMEVER and WHENEVER and for WHATEVER reason a birthing mother is spoken to, she must be spoken to with respect, with humility, with honour. There are social media influencers who are shaming women every single minute, with "facts" about her birth choices and her life choices that are just not true. There's a whole world out there full of people who want to drive a birthing woman from her home, by imposing their own personal choices upon her. </div><div><br /></div><div>We all need to find a home where we can dwell with some measure of peace. When babies are born in environments of fear or anger, they don't feel that peace. Good things can come from stress and desperation: women who have been torn apart are now trying their very best to repair and heal the birth environment for others to come. I love to do a big huge houseclean every so often: where everything is turned upside-down and cleaned before it is put back in its rightful place. I air everything out, make things smell nice, repair broken things, clean underneath.... maybe we need to do a little housecleaning! </div><div><br /></div><div>Please reach out if you want to be part of the new birth attendant course <a href="https://www.mbcdoulaschool.ca/" target="_blank">@mbcdoulaschool!</a></div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDeuY3piPZycjJZVvnLO6GguBeA936FXMQg20bs9vgcFxCBdjFxMc3zm_tExsK1pUKbmjwqcoKV1RX0gyVAAs8pgrqNiGWRu0LGM_wjSCDWzr9Y7RDGDPNbmfxH_l7f167iYsqhza23faqOHix88iZi5_aswUSWXHNuub6Sn8uCKE2G1_iqcbgs7n/s4032/IMG_7537.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDeuY3piPZycjJZVvnLO6GguBeA936FXMQg20bs9vgcFxCBdjFxMc3zm_tExsK1pUKbmjwqcoKV1RX0gyVAAs8pgrqNiGWRu0LGM_wjSCDWzr9Y7RDGDPNbmfxH_l7f167iYsqhza23faqOHix88iZi5_aswUSWXHNuub6Sn8uCKE2G1_iqcbgs7n/s320/IMG_7537.HEIC" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white;">*from Philip Roth's masterpiece The Human Stain. </span></span></div></div></div>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-30319018319826301752022-05-08T21:28:00.000-04:002022-05-08T21:28:09.204-04:00I Love Housework!!It's true. Although you probably couldn't guess it looking at the state of my home right now. Cobwebs everywhere. And dog hair. (update: I got a Dyson, and I vacuumed all that shit up)<br /><br />When I first started doing housework, my mother was working teaching math at the university, and doing art in her spare time, and being a proper wife and mother. I thought she was a slob, so I cleaned up. It was probably an obsessive reaction to being a misfit adolescent, but it did teach me the thrill of cleaning.<div><br /></div><div>"Some people may regard the little details of the physical environment as mundane and unimportant. But very often, the disturbances people feel come from the atmosphere around them." This phrase from Chogyam Trungpa's book "The Sanity We Are Born With" jumped out at me when I first read it, and it affirms what I believe about the simple tidying-up that we can do as housewives, as friends, as mothers, as roommates, as doulas. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQf6IrHXplOVYg_XYJsXuZH8XMq0yYuDoR5Le8VJ37EpQERAZXCeLNR9yJlM610pIdAKW_jGvbeB3pX5AdUMQGjtpVGlVT-9E-JDmbBJaJE6pAwEw3r5aHmVXBkJNaAuyLFKlPV58Hp0TF1g4IXjTCSimdxHT7RS0GE8qJp7PmX5P8Z-5VF6Boii58Cw/s4032/IMG_7454.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQf6IrHXplOVYg_XYJsXuZH8XMq0yYuDoR5Le8VJ37EpQERAZXCeLNR9yJlM610pIdAKW_jGvbeB3pX5AdUMQGjtpVGlVT-9E-JDmbBJaJE6pAwEw3r5aHmVXBkJNaAuyLFKlPV58Hp0TF1g4IXjTCSimdxHT7RS0GE8qJp7PmX5P8Z-5VF6Boii58Cw/s320/IMG_7454.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The table I'm working on is a little cluttered. I ran this morning so there's my running detritus. My agenda. A vase of flowers and in the distance you can see some stuff on my kitchen counter. It mirrors my state of mind these days: a little cluttered, some half-finished business here and there, some worrying issues in the sink.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mother's Day was originally conceived in 1872, and was accompanied by a plea to all mothers to rise up and end war. It took almost 40 more years until Mother's Day was made a formal North American "day", and the one that was accepted into the calendar began as a liturgical tradition in a Methodist Church. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">The original Mothers' Day Proclamation, Julia Ward Howe 1870</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">βArise, thenβ¦ women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says: Disarm, Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence vindicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of council.</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take council with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his own kind the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women, without limit of nationality, may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient, and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.β</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">~ Julia Ward Howe</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">Today was Mother's Day. I began my day with a text from one of my daughter-in-loves. Then a son. Then another son called, and I got to have a long discussion with my grandson (who's ten months old, so our discussion was mostly da-da. Da-da-da. Da-da-da-da, and so on). Then another son and his partner invited me for brunch, but I wanted to go for a long run so I declined, then another son called, and another son's girlfriend texted. I went for my run.</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">So much love!! There's love all around us. And somehow, for me, when I clean it's almost like I'm shining and dusting and uncovering that love, brushing the cobwebs off my worries, shining up my compassion, scraping off my resentments and my hatreds. </p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">I did three loads of laundry, changed the sheets on the bed, vacuumed and washed dishes, I dusted the wooden furniture and shelves and I replaced the screens in the windows. I watered all the plants. These simple tasks help me stay reasonably sane, in an insane-seeming world.</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;">Every single one of you was born from a mother. Some of you are mothers yourselves. Let's hold hands, in motherhood, in sisterhood, as housewives, as writers, as athletes, as bank managers, as painters, as machine operators, as ourselves. Let's dust off our hearts and spread the love!</p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin: 0.5em 0px;"><br /></p></div></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-25413048524816939412022-04-07T20:11:00.000-04:002022-04-07T20:11:05.395-04:00To Dye or Not to Dye<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQF5cY192wsUBo7Cw36AzGGzkoOG9kmIzy1RHywBGFGxdZZQyu3BS3g3IYcfofVp5Ka-bwQv9hh5m-z264QbZaDU99sW7G2UeXuq7e4kLVOtx8qo2KIS80zr5FiRf3WT_L2qAYwSlbHZ_w/s3088/IMG_6168.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQF5cY192wsUBo7Cw36AzGGzkoOG9kmIzy1RHywBGFGxdZZQyu3BS3g3IYcfofVp5Ka-bwQv9hh5m-z264QbZaDU99sW7G2UeXuq7e4kLVOtx8qo2KIS80zr5FiRf3WT_L2qAYwSlbHZ_w/s320/IMG_6168.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />In the reflection of the reflection of the reflection you can see an older women with actual smile wrinkles who is participating in that age-old activity: vanity. I figured I would grow out my hair and wear it loud and proud grey. But then the grey looked yellowish and I was wondering how many women actually do have that lovely silvery grey I see around. Anyway I decided not to visit my old hairdresser because of Covid, so I snuck into the bathroom armed with a box of evil-smelling dye and turned my hair red.<p></p><div>I used to have beautiful coppery hair. When I went to Bali in 2012, it almost touched my bum it was so long. But then I started running seriously and it was too heavy to carry around, so I cut it medium length. Now it's around my shoulders and growing more slowly, I guess that's one other thing that happens as we age.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am very lucky to have a group of friends who love to braid hair. When I go and visit them, I get sat in the fancy chair and my friend combs my hair and then another friend braids. It's such a lovely, comforting activity. I remember when I travelled around in Africa on my own back when I was just a twenty-something, I used to envy the women I would see sitting together everywhere, braiding each other's hair. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been reading <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/122600.Iron_John#_=_" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Iron John</a> by the American poet Robert Bly. It is an exploration of the mythical fundaments of masculinity, but of course he also touches on the fundamentals of the mythical feminine. "If an ancient Greek saw a man who had Zeus energy, he would never say, "That man is Zeus." His mythology distinguished the layers. Now that mythology has collapsed, contemporary men again and again confuse a living woman with the Woman Who Has Golden Hair. A living woman with stomach, small intestine, and a disturbed childhood is not the woman of light. A person who discreetly farts in an elevator is not a divine being, and a man needs to know this."</div><div><br /></div><div>Hair is very powerful. There is hair in so many of our myths and stories. Animal hair, human hair, men's hair and women's hair, they are all significant and infused with power and life force. Human newborns are (mostly) hairless, or if they do have hair it is only on their heads and shoulders, and it is thin and powerless just like the human babe.</div><div><br /></div><div>So should I color my hair with powerful alchemical chemicals? Or should I let the grey grow out and wave my freak flag? For now, I'm voting for color, keeping the reddish tints alive, at least in my dreams and in my mirror. </div><div><br /></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-45123370662741251642022-03-27T19:18:00.000-04:002022-03-27T19:18:22.540-04:00It's A Free Country and Other Random Thoughts<p>We had a bunch of snow a few weeks ago and I was driving to work one morning when I saw what, to me, was a typically Canadian sight. A man in a little car had failed to turn left and he had pushed his car deep into a snow drift that was right in front of a construction site. The guy wearing constructions clothing - orange mostly and many layers so he looked huge - was trying to push the car out of the snowbank. The man driving the car was pedal-to-the-metal and spinning his tires in reverse. He looked confused. Traffic was at a standstill. Another car, a larger one, behind the stuck car, stopped and the driver put on his flashers and ran to help Construction guy push other guy's car out of the drift. The light turned green so I had to go but I'm assuming all ended well.</p><p>I saw a photo the other day of some young Afghani girls who are just starting to be able to attend school again (online of course). When Canada pulled its military presence from Afghanistan, they had no idea that the Taliban would regain power so quickly, or maybe they didn't care. Anyway women and girls there certainly took a beating, but hopefully we will see some change one day so that education will be available for girls and boys both.</p><p>Meanwhile, every step I take while training for a half marathon in April and a marathon in October is a step towards raising money to support <a href="https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/rivka-cymbalist" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Free to Go</a>, which is an organization that provides girls and women in war-torn areas the opportunities to participate in sports. Running, hiking and learning about other sports help girls and young women to develop their independence and give them the strength and endurance they need to grow into strong, healthy adults. </p><p>A final thought for today: be kind to each other, don't try too hard, let life unfold as it will, keep the peace, don't forget to laugh.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0iC1AAnKV1tE_53CwcK0XMe8Lz-1EhKUix-d40le9DhdqVZulqcDqQV7LSqVeZQQAXPPszx1-D2yrZTyksFLZyu1M5fQvt9MUwQOgEU86hW2ER2HMMrit-Vxv8eXVYBHjKbYA3X5PgH99X1sOX5GG-jBI_tiNJsKHQrJlJI9sxy8K4qrDjlg_7Ro2Q/s1280/IMG_3835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0iC1AAnKV1tE_53CwcK0XMe8Lz-1EhKUix-d40le9DhdqVZulqcDqQV7LSqVeZQQAXPPszx1-D2yrZTyksFLZyu1M5fQvt9MUwQOgEU86hW2ER2HMMrit-Vxv8eXVYBHjKbYA3X5PgH99X1sOX5GG-jBI_tiNJsKHQrJlJI9sxy8K4qrDjlg_7Ro2Q/s320/IMG_3835.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-32874993070518441152022-03-14T21:41:00.008-04:002022-03-14T21:41:59.937-04:00Fear and Bears<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgS4ZXgzhrwe4NBGKL6yQ_WBsESCOek2DIXNalYHyhklbEHvBwMU9NsX_8aqyhamhAzNkBbWMQav2TRvW6W707z7PUnXzuWH-5oksg8-qLx47fDCcDXKstecL80OAy9BwsEKt_ldwuMaRN0m5S0n1CV67NqjbLKmf4q6mk08hoparwS7Q-RxNEwQe5hkg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgS4ZXgzhrwe4NBGKL6yQ_WBsESCOek2DIXNalYHyhklbEHvBwMU9NsX_8aqyhamhAzNkBbWMQav2TRvW6W707z7PUnXzuWH-5oksg8-qLx47fDCcDXKstecL80OAy9BwsEKt_ldwuMaRN0m5S0n1CV67NqjbLKmf4q6mk08hoparwS7Q-RxNEwQe5hkg=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I went to the Rockies over a year ago with my husband. We had a great time, hiking, hanging out and generally enjoying being in the magnificent Rocky Mountains. They are definitely one of the most beautiful and haunting places in our wide world.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I used to go there often when I was a young woman, and the mountains gave me a feeling of peace and confidence I've remembered often throughout my less peaceful life. So I was surprised to hear the many warnings about bear spray: how there were so many bears, how aggressive they've become, and how everyone should be on high alert and carry bear spray.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are excellent arguments for and against carrying bear spray. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Arguments For: bears have changed over the decades. Apparently they have gotten much less afraid of humans and perhaps they've become more aggressive, and perhaps the populations have grown. And, why not? It's easy to hook on to your belt and easy to deploy if you need to.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Arguments Against: for decades people have been living, hiking and exploring in the Rocky Mountains and we've always learned that making noise or travelling in groups and following simple rules will avoid nasty incidents with bears. Also, most people obey traffic laws but every so often some poor law-abiding soul gets hits by a car.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I did a very unscientific and completely informal poll on a Facebook group I belong to with over 25,000 members. It's a trail running group, all women. I asked them whether they carried bear spray in bear country, and who had ever had an encounter with a bear. Some of the women had indeed had encounters. No serious ones. Some of the women carry guns. Most of the responses were along the lines that most bears are afraid of humans, and that life itself can be risky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life can indeed be risky. Just last week I heard that a bunch of people were forced from their homes by an adjoining state bombing their country. My heart is pretty broken. A maternity hospital was bombed and we know of at least one mother and baby who were killed. How does that make any sense at all? As a midwife, we said brightly to each other "Meconium happens", until a baby actually died and then we realized, yes, the shit actually can and does hit the fan way more often than we would want it to.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But all of this is just begging the question: when is it smart to be afraid and when is it dumb to carry bear spray? Fear is necessary for life: we avoid dangerous things by working through from fear to avoidance to survival. But we can also get too cautious in life, and our fear can prevent us from living our lives properly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Balance is the key, but where do we learn how to balance this tightrope, this knife's edge we call life? And how do we teach our children that balance? When part of us only wants to create a soft cushion around the child so they'll feel no pain? Of course we fight against that urge in ourselves, because at the same time we know that humans need to experience richness in their lives, and part of that richness is darkness too. We've all heard the trope about darkness and light. But it's true. As Alan Watts says, if you want the Yang, you gotta take the Yin: more Yin, more Yang. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Give me those Rocky Mountains, hold the bear spray. No, wait, YOU carry it, I'll skip blindly ahead. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now play this song, close your eyes, and remember everything is fine.</div></div> <iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/track/1ne9wOtDF2jM6Cm8WBkaER?utm_source=generator" style="border-radius: 12px;" width="100%"></iframe> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-60367642491117411112022-03-10T19:03:00.004-05:002022-03-10T19:03:56.625-05:00Shields, magic, bubbles, screens<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyaps7HjADQvmaHriDBn0VkExbPHYhhg7yeCon5zhCC62HppI0HMUQKCk9_0h7yzty7mr9nJObfrS3iPkAnpvD4JNVqDKAD-5vO9tqLpg9CS6l_paAdhMUKhGYe2_jIvOzkFWr6DLVQJosH9CnAa9_FR5Kbt0jQArKwb55uGHRfgUaxB6ejggptbuR4w=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhyaps7HjADQvmaHriDBn0VkExbPHYhhg7yeCon5zhCC62HppI0HMUQKCk9_0h7yzty7mr9nJObfrS3iPkAnpvD4JNVqDKAD-5vO9tqLpg9CS6l_paAdhMUKhGYe2_jIvOzkFWr6DLVQJosH9CnAa9_FR5Kbt0jQArKwb55uGHRfgUaxB6ejggptbuR4w=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of the key qualities that a doula or a midwife seeks to make use of during her journey with a woman as she births is the ability to create shields, bubbles and screens. This quality is akin to magic, and it is hard to access and even harder to use skilfully. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1. Shields can help prevent a birth attendant from bringing her own baggage to the birth room. To do this, we must place the birthing mother at the very center of the experience, so much so that our own desires, opinions, concerns, and emotional reactions do not really matter. At the same time, we must be constantly aware of the health and well-being of the mother and child, but not in an emotionally infused way. Rather, we have to notice what is happening, much like a Buddhist will notice emotions as they drift past during meditation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2. Bubbles are wonderfully useful and I made so many of them when I was working as a doula in the hospital setting! A bubble is a protective sphere around the birthing woman. It can include her partner, you as the birth attendant, her midwife, her mother or whomever, but its main purpose is to maintain an emotional or spiritual "space" within which the birthing mother can find her way. Often the woman giving birth has other people's ideas and opinions floating around in her head, which can detract from the intensity of what she needs to do. The bubble will often give her the chance to be fully aware of what her body is doing, so that she can stop thinking through the event.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I will create a bubble by visualizing, but also with physical closeness to the woman (eye to eye contact, light massage), and also with carefully chosen words and a physical distancing (turning my back) from the people outside the bubble. Sometimes it will be necessary for the woman to move to a different room in order to fully accept and embrace the bubble.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3. Screens are effective when there is a danger of you, the birth attendant, becoming emotionally engaged with another person in the birth room. You must erect a mental screen so that your exchange with the other person doesn't infect the atmosphere in the room. For example, if the birth is taking place in a hospital and the nurse is feeling lonely and wants to chat about the patient in the next room, I always like to erect a friendly screen so that the nurse doesn't feel rejected but she knows that conversation isn't appropriate. On the other hand, if a member of the staff is being abusive to the birthing woman I will erect a very strong, impenetrable screen that shields the birthing mother and her family from the anger or ugliness that is taking place. This can be very difficult.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These methods can be used outside of the birth room as well, in stressful situations in all walks of life. Just get your magic on, and you can create a peaceful dwelling for yourself and those around you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6hgo1DIj83eUBYLiveSVm3mNVXY7PtX0NsyfmHaklQpBAWjQICWvqvWNISwKcL3UyrOxreuNsqwDGxzT4erprtGzV7dLVBosfCksdYj1-ZuCHmEpwz1FaDHXUwOmKtRRZm3JZ1Qj6EEurvj41Tss9VYL9wev7XLLr_zEiODf-JvZATRc1M2WRQpRupA=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6hgo1DIj83eUBYLiveSVm3mNVXY7PtX0NsyfmHaklQpBAWjQICWvqvWNISwKcL3UyrOxreuNsqwDGxzT4erprtGzV7dLVBosfCksdYj1-ZuCHmEpwz1FaDHXUwOmKtRRZm3JZ1Qj6EEurvj41Tss9VYL9wev7XLLr_zEiODf-JvZATRc1M2WRQpRupA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-61701562585711015802022-03-02T20:19:00.000-05:002022-03-02T20:19:35.607-05:00Decluttering and Re-Imagining<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCu3eTs9cZhPq8RT9U1Ep4d2griN_sziYxsbZfLy79F1VI50xpKUTFNpI7fv5x86fSRePOzEBkkP92wEtXOR6__F6DeXpMGiczlSN_xrakIu6o3X2s7DzZ4gZYqWGHPOs0tcgN6VJPMYyHzUyBdUeNEKaU0MiZOPlI8BITUZ_19itok0jT0qXpaORVPg=s585" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="585" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjCu3eTs9cZhPq8RT9U1Ep4d2griN_sziYxsbZfLy79F1VI50xpKUTFNpI7fv5x86fSRePOzEBkkP92wEtXOR6__F6DeXpMGiczlSN_xrakIu6o3X2s7DzZ4gZYqWGHPOs0tcgN6VJPMYyHzUyBdUeNEKaU0MiZOPlI8BITUZ_19itok0jT0qXpaORVPg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />I have been de-cluttering my spirit over the past few months. I had descended into some bad habits over the years. If it only takes 30 days to initiate and maintain a habit, imagine how difficult it is to shed twenty years worth of bad habits!<p></p><div>But I realized that the best way wasn't in fact to navel-gaze for the rest of my life and try to figure out what I should keep and what I should throw out. The best way, for me, was to grab the toilet brush between my teeth, and to turn my back on habits that didn't make me happy, and to march into the sunset, toilet brush firmly held to remind me.</div><div><br /></div><div>De-cluttering can mean anything at all! For me, it means moving towards play and saying "YES". It's so important to play. Ooooh, we are taught to feel so guilty all the time. I'm trying to break down my deep feelings of "having to be busy". If I'm not busy, what the hell am I taking up space for? What a silly idea. Plants aren't busy. But I'm not a plant. hmmm. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'd like to do these things: </div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>freedive in beautiful water</li><li>climb Mount Kilimanjaro</li><li>work as a midwife again</li><li>go into space and see the blue jewel of earth</li><li>kiss my grandchildren as often as possible</li><li>run long, long distances</li><li>organize all my books into subject</li><li>learn more about birds</li><li>go dancing</li><li>visit all my friends all around the world</li><li>learn about the constellations</li><li>spend months in the desert</li></ul><div>What do YOU want to do?</div><div><br /></div></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-10260561865001346742022-03-01T21:23:00.002-05:002022-03-01T21:23:49.050-05:00The Magic of Meditation<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHolh2Y48yNgcSXfcAG7td2kETqVQ5LsMIPwIb819DYVPsbKKeUG5KZiV8I0EmLVmv4WfRN5cDXEYH2y3mHIpPSdhSTgcRj385el1PZSm4SGlFxRrF-mqPEGIUxKihP6qH-8SA-MyBGcSdf_cdXoNnkF4s8r0thjgxDFhAj0_hAMyg-3k3iuty4G5ZaA=s1920" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgHolh2Y48yNgcSXfcAG7td2kETqVQ5LsMIPwIb819DYVPsbKKeUG5KZiV8I0EmLVmv4WfRN5cDXEYH2y3mHIpPSdhSTgcRj385el1PZSm4SGlFxRrF-mqPEGIUxKihP6qH-8SA-MyBGcSdf_cdXoNnkF4s8r0thjgxDFhAj0_hAMyg-3k3iuty4G5ZaA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br />I always tell myself I'm going to start meditating, then I do, but I only keep it up for about a month or so before other things become more attractive. Like running or sleeping. I've read a lot about meditation, and I know that physiologically it makes a difference to how our bodies process stress hormones, how our blood moves, and how our bodies function in general.<p></p><p>But since I'm not a meditator, how can I access the kinds of things I want from meditating, without meditating? What do I want to feel? How do I want to change my body and my mind? What's my goal?</p><p>My goal is inner peace. My goal is world peace. My goal is a healthier body. My goal is a better temperament. My goal is a better birth experience for women. My goal is to be a better person. My goal is to be the best ......</p><p>Hold it right there! "working on yourself", having a "goal" in terms of self-discovery or self-care, or healing from trauma or whatever... these are not useful. Why are we starting at a place where we are intrinsically broken? Why don't we start from that place where we are whole? If you can sit with yourself for one minute and be grateful for ... grateful for just being. For the little things that may give you pleasure in the here and now, then that is good. And that's all it is.</p><p>Life is made up of tiny drops in the ocean. Do something, it will have effects. Don't do another thing, that will have effects too. I try to experience that physiological state that I imagine meditating achieves when I lie in bed. I move my consciousness through my body and check where little glitches might be, and then I fall asleep. It's when I'm running that I can free my mind. When I run my goals disappear. I run to get lost. I run to lose mySelf. I run to run.</p>Rivka Cymbalisthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04149019074164668932noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-48035142131176225242022-02-26T20:31:00.000-05:002022-02-26T20:31:03.532-05:00Health Hacks for the Over 60sHere are some simple life hacks:<div style="text-align: left;"><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>be kind to yourself π</li><li>eat when you're hungry π</li><li>do something creative every day π πΆ</li><li>don't get bitter π</li><li>keep your feet happy π£</li><li>drink lots of water π§</li><li>get at least 30 minutes of exercise a day! π</li><li>be alone at times but be with people too π</li><li>call your kids πͺ</li><li>do fun things π</li></ol><div>Well, those aren't really health hacks as we know and read about them on the internet. "This amazing fruit will keep your skin clear for 90 days!" and all that. But they are basic rules that we forget about over time, and so simple to remember!</div><div><br /></div><div>Yesterday I had a little meltdown and here's why: Okay, first of all, it's been a hell of a week. Just saying. World news was compounded over here by a humungous flood-style rain, then ice, then freezing rain, then snow. So it was hard to get around. </div><div><br /></div><div>I run a cafe with my son, who's obviously half my age. Business has been picking up, in spite of the provincial government's effort to kill small businesses. So I've been busy, and it's the two year mark of a pandemic that none of us planned for. I've noticed that every so often everyone I know, at different times of course, has a small Covid breakdown where the big existential questions come to the fore.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's been a weird two years though, that's for sure. Our family got together in November, and in the week that we were all together - all five kids and four of their "others" - three of the daughter-in-laws lost someone close to them, and not an ancient old great-aunt either. I've had a series of friends with pretty shitty health problems, one got hit by a car...who gets hit by a car??? And three members of my family had serious ruptures with very close friends. </div><div><br /></div><div>So there ya go, and I don't think we are special. It's been a hell of a ride. So anyway, yesterday, I drove home in the snowy ice and backed my car into a snowbank in our driveway from which I could not extricate myself because the snow was on top of three inches of ice. I never get stuck! I've been driving since I was 18 and I'm a damn good driver! My son helped me get out and I was PISSED. And scared.</div><div><br /></div><div>Scared? Later in the evening, I was definitely hangry but I just melted down. Because the incident with the car scared me into thinking that I was turning into a weak old lady with none of the strength and sass that I've always had. Driving badly, getting weaker, losing my hearing, maybe even losing my marbles.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's like being a teenager: you don't know what's happening and you're worried it's going to be fatal. And it is going to be fatal, of course. So I start thinking about how much I can fit into the next thirty years, if I live to 95, and how I would have done things differently, and I go down a rabbit hole of doubt and despair. I look at myself in the mirror, and I'm not young any more! And I wonder how that happened, and why. My dog's snout is all white as she, too, ages. </div><div><br /></div><div>Follow my rules: be kind to yourself π, eat when you're hungry π, do something creative every day π πΆ, don't get bitter π, keep your feet happy π£, drink lots of water π§, get at least 30 minutes of exercise a day! π, be alone at times but be with people too π, call your kids πͺ, do fun things π.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFexFq0K_Ob0qMHVHPyZgzOya91cxZY9bkX2T-iPUtzrvm0fRcKUmsP93hjqj73XG16V5semzlE5b4Arsy6AUrgWUB-F4YU2kkiPN2hZdAPz-8jrarfzS1guNq3sLvWBD7v0TTVBrA4mtGRsqm2l7i4vMlf-Kl_NcMtr8PO2TjQ8UY0pM2l_5lSnBqzw=s3264" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFexFq0K_Ob0qMHVHPyZgzOya91cxZY9bkX2T-iPUtzrvm0fRcKUmsP93hjqj73XG16V5semzlE5b4Arsy6AUrgWUB-F4YU2kkiPN2hZdAPz-8jrarfzS1guNq3sLvWBD7v0TTVBrA4mtGRsqm2l7i4vMlf-Kl_NcMtr8PO2TjQ8UY0pM2l_5lSnBqzw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div></div>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-23444367277840467422022-02-22T21:03:00.000-05:002022-02-22T21:03:43.922-05:00Running Memories<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm so fortunate to be able to run. Here are some running memories.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikHP_ppeFcelYKtZei_V2y0s8TT2wy_oSyaoeQR2Z1HWwAoP2-svDS0O99nUbRlkPlBeBTp6frJLq-Umud1TU2PSAEfBWySapIZwfOxoxbz0z89ziatCCqwfgPf1L5cHN9BGg21D2qOF82X_nLdZ66qnqbLIq53vbipGFKI8evfDmGryK_hSXG02tC0A=s1506" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1506" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikHP_ppeFcelYKtZei_V2y0s8TT2wy_oSyaoeQR2Z1HWwAoP2-svDS0O99nUbRlkPlBeBTp6frJLq-Umud1TU2PSAEfBWySapIZwfOxoxbz0z89ziatCCqwfgPf1L5cHN9BGg21D2qOF82X_nLdZ66qnqbLIq53vbipGFKI8evfDmGryK_hSXG02tC0A=s320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxm7AH7fivxmRZiIhSXVpn3SiFCllVqMtcPCq7NOL8K5vW_9p5dcF65tTQ0f63j09ny24y4k74ryfy4Q8RhGlnTnmdpHVO7Rb3v4FmfUqc-bZSafZr6q5iXKGELHnbZTJtAA02Ht3PZvaqRQK-26ydKnio_7cAUWpgPLmqnKB5XTOykTKfBzGxmtz6KA=s320" width="180" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkK-LIiUBeVYcB8UpX4DHn63eIRZ5Tn5ivZHE3KMj_sxRAWIjz2Feh_Q1BIWWnLMwRrFXeTe-5t3Ak2HNJtNDXJBfJiyfNVjMzBDJvXk4mxiPwOnFQGiQu3Qp445BtNb5Bv2L4N04hkYIusWFE01sSNSXaf8d88A2pd20XdEviYxE2zdUtdL_UmVBPtQ=s480" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkK-LIiUBeVYcB8UpX4DHn63eIRZ5Tn5ivZHE3KMj_sxRAWIjz2Feh_Q1BIWWnLMwRrFXeTe-5t3Ak2HNJtNDXJBfJiyfNVjMzBDJvXk4mxiPwOnFQGiQu3Qp445BtNb5Bv2L4N04hkYIusWFE01sSNSXaf8d88A2pd20XdEviYxE2zdUtdL_UmVBPtQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglAx-e9SS0ZPRIH5vNQrquBc5Nrjz_vvcgnJ9wITUZwtr5CvV4pVlnLXcE6o_Z6RskDDIVP3eGkuFIo_FbQJltt65a2UUzq-PuMO1wrh7lWObtEA_SsvsHdNV9R4OpW7mFY2Gn8KkO5avnJopskp0xzEGFtJ971p8HWBlkP796IJ95OGXL18jlwp5jvQ=s1280" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglAx-e9SS0ZPRIH5vNQrquBc5Nrjz_vvcgnJ9wITUZwtr5CvV4pVlnLXcE6o_Z6RskDDIVP3eGkuFIo_FbQJltt65a2UUzq-PuMO1wrh7lWObtEA_SsvsHdNV9R4OpW7mFY2Gn8KkO5avnJopskp0xzEGFtJ971p8HWBlkP796IJ95OGXL18jlwp5jvQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikVVJv7Xng9nuzaY_bQhBWNTNFQ_HU57kE6tZ3UCiPZzhmq_7c7d43gqYmOCBsfR-Pj29ld1zgpRiN_j-dx052WPd07zWJ2SFO481dJvPLl5H1PTMY87K0riVrJB-L3EFgm1UGfO2pbrXVrFDy7Nd-yuJQHth1HzfekmFZUAAPg1NpIQerjVWPOCHdGg=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikVVJv7Xng9nuzaY_bQhBWNTNFQ_HU57kE6tZ3UCiPZzhmq_7c7d43gqYmOCBsfR-Pj29ld1zgpRiN_j-dx052WPd07zWJ2SFO481dJvPLl5H1PTMY87K0riVrJB-L3EFgm1UGfO2pbrXVrFDy7Nd-yuJQHth1HzfekmFZUAAPg1NpIQerjVWPOCHdGg=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-2050080911213721352022-02-21T21:16:00.001-05:002022-02-21T21:17:30.395-05:00Lying Fallow<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlO7pu4-UC9-ql2L4g-ju2jJkceLlDpbsWCzFlekAsYaVreGuVp4C3MhlHuNuvgs-_1yFh7du4bkNFtzpV1rixCg5Egy_aBG3HOSaVE7tfbuvSXunQowzj8r-g4Y09zIn0NPEk_b5mhLpHeRZD4rlwEtlIC72zdG2o8zXAQTz0NlNcxZwmCKofJJ9jnQ=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjlO7pu4-UC9-ql2L4g-ju2jJkceLlDpbsWCzFlekAsYaVreGuVp4C3MhlHuNuvgs-_1yFh7du4bkNFtzpV1rixCg5Egy_aBG3HOSaVE7tfbuvSXunQowzj8r-g4Y09zIn0NPEk_b5mhLpHeRZD4rlwEtlIC72zdG2o8zXAQTz0NlNcxZwmCKofJJ9jnQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I've had times in my life where I've been lying fallow, waiting for the next cycle to begin. I think I'm just coming out of one of those times. I may have seemed busy, either to myself or to others, but the busyness was a superficial activity like the microbial activity on the surface of the earth. </p><p>In a way, I think I was lying quietly, waiting to capture something that can't be captured. That elusive prey was a feeling of belonging, of being recognized and acknowledged. I lay so quietly, wanting that thing, that I started to forget who I was. So I started to be someone else, who I really wasn't.I started saying yes when I meant no, and no when I meant yes.</p><p>Living through the pandemic has thrown many of us into looking more carefully at our lives and our choices. I've been noticing weird parallels and similarities between my life and choices and other people's - people who I would never have admitted a similarity to had it not been for this dramatic event we are all living through.</p><p>I went to the desert a few weeks ago. I love it there. I would move there tomorrow if ... </p><p>I love the clean-ness of the air there, not clean in the environmental, physical sense (although it does seem quite fresh), but clean almost in a spiritual sense. The wind blows, the sand moves, the bunnies jump around, the desert truly and clearly doesn't give any indication that it cares about you or notices you, in the sense that you can't anthropomorphize it like a shady tree or a sweet babbling brook.</p><p>So the desert gave me a chance to strip myself (figuratively, folks) naked and ask myself: who am I? </p><p>The pandemic has given everyone this opportunity: a chance to be alone, to ponder, to daydream, to change our "normal". Have we done so? No, we have not. </p><p>But one thing the desert always shows us is that there's always another morning, when the wind is blowing and the sand moves lightly. It's not too late to wake up and make a move. It's not too late to recover the land that has been lying fallow. It's scary, though. To be honest with yourself. To say what you believe. To engage in a discourse with others, instead of either deleting people (guilty) or falsely agreeing with them (guilty).</p><p>Well, my answers to that age-old question (who I am) were not super clear. The desert doesn't actually give you the answers, it just gives you the peace and quiet so you can try to figure them out. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I'm a woman π©</li><li>I'm a wife π°</li><li>I'm a mother π</li><li>I'm a runner π</li><li>And a Grandmother!!!! π</li></ul><div>And then there are all the microscopic things that we add on, like extra toppings on the pizza: midwife, writer, cafe owner, saxophone and clarinet player, traveler. I'm good at Trivial Pursuits. I don't like green peppers. I was shocked by the Liberal's reaction to the demonstrations in Ottawa. I don't mind breaking rules if I think they're unjust. I have three Pfizer vaccines in my body. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe fallow is the time we can separate fact from fiction: separate those things we do "just" to impress others from the things that we do instinctively. Or even the things that we do to impress ourselves, even those things can be recognized by the harsh light of the desert. </div><div>Now is a time in our world when we are moving further and further away from each other. We are drawing thicker and thicker lines between ourselves and amongst ourselves, with little chance of repair. It's time to take some breaths and lie down. Feel the earth under you. Remember what's real. Remember what's true.</div><p></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-17864364382460778402022-02-20T17:59:00.003-05:002022-02-20T17:59:32.666-05:00Foot Self-Care<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-GXgiw-cKk26eva6YhorPsxEw31kDGJEAde9dRHL_RXX4DpwSuQvcGqKhlrRNyMxbJis8CoYal3v5ellUq38yxN9ahuXBEFSwrppG5VyUXRkCZkKxWJRY6yw1yJW94PWVsquXhDtkrpvFch8hz1zfRXOltaFu_xfO4hfaBdMHUI8KGtvhxxQek69HKQ=s682" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="682" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-GXgiw-cKk26eva6YhorPsxEw31kDGJEAde9dRHL_RXX4DpwSuQvcGqKhlrRNyMxbJis8CoYal3v5ellUq38yxN9ahuXBEFSwrppG5VyUXRkCZkKxWJRY6yw1yJW94PWVsquXhDtkrpvFch8hz1zfRXOltaFu_xfO4hfaBdMHUI8KGtvhxxQek69HKQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Did you know your foot<span style="font-family: inherit;"> has <a href="https://www.arthritis.org/health-wellness/about-arthritis/where-it-hurts/anatomy-of-the-foot#:~:text=Each%20foot%20is%20made%20up,main%20structures%20of%20the%20feet." rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><b>26 bones</b><span face="arial, sans-serif">, 30 joints and more than 100 muscles, tendons and ligaments</span></a>? Feet are wonderful appendages, and they keep us going where we want to go. The big toe has magical properties that keep our bodies balanced when we walk, stand or run. Every small part of the foot is kind of a miracle, as far as I can fig</span>ure, and it's up to us to be kind to our feet.<p></p><p>As we get older, our whole bodies sag. This is true, don't try to deny it. When I look at my little grandson, I marvel at his elastic, ecstatic skin, and his ability to move in all sorts of ways that become more difficult the older we get. I look at the skin of my daughters-in-love and I marvel at their smooth, unblemished skin and their white sclera (my eyes got yellowish because I love the sun and didn't ever wear sunglasses).</p><p>Our feet don't really sag ... well actually they do a little bit. They get wider, and our arches may get a little lower and closer to the earth. Sometimes our toes start to spread in intriguing ways. But I'm all about accepting the peculiar shapes of the older female body, and my mission is to figure out how to keep my body running smoothly while I'm still situated in it.</p><p>So, one thing I like to do is to offer my feet some regular love. I'm pretty hard on the old gals: I am on my feet all day (9-4) at my cafe, then I like to run as long and as often as I can. This all leads to my fascia getting a little stretchy and sore, my feet getting calluses, and those 26 bones feeling a little sore, especially after a long run on snow and ice.</p><p>What to do?</p><p>Examine your feet. π£What do you not like about them? Some things you can fix, and others you have to accept (are feet like life?). </p><p>Foot issues you can fix at home: </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> π£dry or ravaged skin around the ball of your foot, heel or anywhere</li><li> π£bunions</li><li> π£fascia issues</li></ul><div>Foot issues that may need professional help:</div><div><ul style="text-align: left;"><li> π£chronic Plantars fasciitis: go to the doctor and get this condition properly diagnosed. </li><li> π£chronic Athlete's foot: prescription meds may be the answer</li><li> π£pain that doesn't go away: all sorts of issues can give you pain that doesn't seem to pass, including over-training, badly-fitted shoes, osteoporosis, and other conditions. So if you have pain that isn't reacting to any of your home treatments, get it checked out.</li></ul><div>For dry or cracked skin, I love to give my feet a home spa treatment. Fill a basin with very hot water and your favourite oil. Then watch your favourite show, read a book, knit, or daydream. When the water is cold, carefully dry your feet. Now you can start doing the less fun job of scraping off the old skin, cutting your nails, and rubbing down calluses with a pumice stone. Paint your nails if you want! </div></div><div>Every so often, I'll give my feet a foot mask. And I also like to remember to moisturize my feet before bed (but I usually forget π).</div><div><br /></div><div>Bunions sound weird and they are usually a side-effect of ageing. It's when your big toe joint moves away from the rest of your foot, and makes your big toe turn in to crowd out the other toes. It can be painful, especially after a long run. I got some <a href="https://thetoespacer.com/products/toe-spacer" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">toe spacers</a> - these are excellent but you have to be disciplined and use them regularly. Start off ten minutes a day when you're relaxing, then move to wearing them when working out. You will find that your bunions shrink, and they're also good for fasciitis and increasing foot strength.</div><div><br /></div><div>The fascia is a gooey/ membraneous material that surrounds most of our muscles, organs and inner bits and pieces. Sometimes, the fascia surrounding our feet and holding the many bones, tendons, ligaments and muscles in place becomes irritated and painful. If you have a look at <a href="https://www.anatomytrains.com/fascia/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">this website </a> you will see another explanation of the fascia: that it isn't a membrane that holds everything together, but it's actually the basic material of the body from which muscles, organs and all the soft squishy parts of our bodies spring. Whatever the case, if you have a pain in your foot, you can try toe spacers, massage, rest, and also rubbing the sole of your foot with a tennis ball or (better) one of these things: </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjY0tt69duyW5nrx0fAqADWDhCenob-cD-BDwcSjqIsaVcHY_zlPuyAY-ZlU4AKR447bAVmQqD63HkDw5aJxBJD-blqDGvd5mIm1a0FZ0SFPquUKBimzK_6GzGOcs-MHDGQdJ9VjklQxqQnAXrdKbMJviSUGz7Ow1QYyYAGYgObdX0X1DJ6J46X2uNtQ" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="131" data-original-width="166" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjY0tt69duyW5nrx0fAqADWDhCenob-cD-BDwcSjqIsaVcHY_zlPuyAY-ZlU4AKR447bAVmQqD63HkDw5aJxBJD-blqDGvd5mIm1a0FZ0SFPquUKBimzK_6GzGOcs-MHDGQdJ9VjklQxqQnAXrdKbMJviSUGz7Ow1QYyYAGYgObdX0X1DJ6J46X2uNtQ=w200-h158" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">no it's not a Covid molecule. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These are spiky rubber balls that you can give your feet a lovely massage with, or just put it on the floor and rub your feet back and forth when your sitting.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Love your feet! You don't have to spend a lot of money on them, but remember that they do need care, and that usually problems can be resolved if you catch them quickly and spend time on them. Rest is so important! So is moisture! Be kind to those funny appendages that help you run, walk, stand and keep balanced. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">β‘β«</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div><p></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-65443262111187155802022-02-16T20:12:00.001-05:002022-02-16T20:12:06.197-05:00Competitive Spirit<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ830wpK01DZ8k_2NOIsRjjJQHtwNDkpvWG_ldgV3fd0ibLeN_p_gvS0Jbo36wOaeQ7tmdLk0wNlR8NuARQK6WCfH3POH5ok7RpMgv_TXExo5e_z5Zeysv1dev0g4CUA12QlP3ZDXhpmQdtMU0SiO6pdtoxY2ENgteX4ObW7TtN2Vr2QDrRg03dRAg_g=s3264" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ830wpK01DZ8k_2NOIsRjjJQHtwNDkpvWG_ldgV3fd0ibLeN_p_gvS0Jbo36wOaeQ7tmdLk0wNlR8NuARQK6WCfH3POH5ok7RpMgv_TXExo5e_z5Zeysv1dev0g4CUA12QlP3ZDXhpmQdtMU0SiO6pdtoxY2ENgteX4ObW7TtN2Vr2QDrRg03dRAg_g=w314-h209" width="314" /></a></div><br />The first official running race I participated in was this one: a half marathon (21 kilometers), when I had just turned 59. I loved everything about it! The camaraderie; the cups of water; the corny posters; the feeling that I couldn't do it and then I did!<p></p><p>I still love running races. I've done a bunch of them since then. The first in-person one I did since the beginning of Covid was last October. My smile lasted about two kilometers, when I lost myself in the joy of hearing all those other runners' feet pitter-pattering in front, beside and behind me. Then my self caught up with me and I spent the next two hours or so agonizing about my life and all the things that were going wrong and have gone wrong in the past.</p><p>Am I an impostor? Was the main question I kept asking myself. The jury is still out on that one. Because here's the thing: as soon as I say I'm anything, especially these days as the social media is ready to pick up and amplify any little piece of horse shit that escapes my mouth, as soon as I say I'm a midwife or a caring person or whatever, a witch and the like, then .... then I am that. And I necessarily have to be the BEST at whatever it is I've said I am.</p><p>And if I'm not the best, then I'm an impostor.</p><p>We live in an age of experts.</p><p>Experts, apparently, study stuff. They know about stuff and they can tell other people how to do things. But there are so many, many experts out there it's hard to know who to believe. So a regular person just finds the expert they agree with and build a game plan from there. But that leads to some difficulties: first of all, you can't just pick any expert. Some people do actually know more than others about any given subject. As a lay-trained midwife, I know that I don't have as much technical knowledge as an OBGYN... so I shouldn't represent myself in opposition to them. But I do, or rather, we do ... we seem to be living in an age when we are all projecting images of ourselves that are larger than life, and better than the puny reality.</p><p>The second difficulty with finding an expert to guide you on your way is the problem of responsibility. If you're following an expert's advice and things go sideways, who are you going to blame? Yourself? I don't think so. If you've already decided that you need an expert to help you do whatever it is that you want to do, then you've already given them some degree of responsibility. </p><p>So, if we do away with experts? Well, no one is going to do brain surgery on themselves I hope. But maybe we could tweak the idea a little bit. Maybe we could add some humility to the picture. Perhaps we could reduce our need for experts, trust ourselves a little more, and remember that living life isn't actually like running a race. No one really wins: it isn't really about the survival of the fittest.</p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1887091184863448843.post-31007278841697001552021-12-07T20:03:00.005-05:002021-12-07T20:03:30.038-05:00Maskne? You're kidding me...<p> I'm not even going to post a picture here because I'm so ashamed of how my face looks. Yes, it's that bad. And, yes, maskne is a real condition. If you're interested, the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/article/maskne-acne.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">New York Times</a> did an article on it so you can read up on it and try to prevent it. Basically, it's caused by the build-up of all that your facial pores don't need (bacteria, oil, sweat, dirt, possibly some fungi ... all that good stuff), which gets trapped on your skin because ... because you're wearing a mask. </p><p>I wear a mask every day at my cafe. I leave my house around 8am, get the Metro with my mask on, and get to work, and my face is covered from then until I get back home. That's a long time to have a fabric covering over my face, and I'm paying for it now.</p><p>Don't get me wrong, I believe that this virus is real, and that vaccines work, and that wearing a mask works too. I worked in health care for long enough to know that in situations where you don't want bacteria or viruses to spread from your mouth, you wear a mask. So that's not an issue, whether I agree with the effectiveness of the damn thing.</p><p>No, my issue is that I have been struck bad with the Maskne, and I'm feeling like I'm 13 again.</p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>I'm very self-conscious about my face. I like putting on a mask, or wearing concealer, so that no one will notice the awful rash around my nose and mouth.</li><li>I almost don't want to go out. I feel like people will talk about me.</li><li>Even worse, my self-consciousness has spread to other areas: I can't cook; I look stupid (my clothes are old and drab); I am too slow; my hearing loss bothers people; I'm not a good mother/granny/midwife..... the list goes on. Oh, and I'm fat. Ridiculous.</li></ul>The only time I don't feel this way is when I'm out running, because honestly, who cares what you look like when you're having fun? People will notice my rashy face and what? They'll say "oh look at that 65 year old lady out for a run at 7:30 in the morning, what awful maskne she has". Yep.<p></p><p> As we get older, there is more pressure to perform, not less. Because old people aren't valued simply because they have been on the planet for longer, and they've experienced more ... well, they've experienced more experiences, good and bad, beautiful and ugly.... so, because we aren't valued for that, there is a huge pressure to prove ourselves in many ways. The one who keeps on working; the one who runs the fastest and the farthest; the one who is the best grandma ever; the one who can afford to support his whole extended family ... you get the picture.</p><p>So, for me, this rash on my face has brought up all sorts of worries about whether I was true to myself, and I did what I was supposed to do, and was I good enough as a mother, a midwife, a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister.... a citizen, an anarchist, a revolutionary, a witch ... </p><p>It's funny what a few little zits can do to a gal's psyche!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBrMdP_4azWfyWIKnas9_rfkCgRKvA8jFxR3xjHKI8BbsLSdE9oPZRHJOTF30RPJKzq78fPgII0nuFpjMIWq_1cRcbUWXK4mMaMXTvlOu33tMKk0SrIbNzDMWTYyjln8tomVU6_vbKNbg6W5duTYR06C9oy7vprtf_s5cD_Cle1J2ljG_UTdc4u0QN9g=s320" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBrMdP_4azWfyWIKnas9_rfkCgRKvA8jFxR3xjHKI8BbsLSdE9oPZRHJOTF30RPJKzq78fPgII0nuFpjMIWq_1cRcbUWXK4mMaMXTvlOu33tMKk0SrIbNzDMWTYyjln8tomVU6_vbKNbg6W5duTYR06C9oy7vprtf_s5cD_Cle1J2ljG_UTdc4u0QN9g" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Rivkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15145799840911530969noreply@blogger.com0