50k?

50 k?

Why would anyone want to run fifty kilometres? And in the desert, no less. Well, me for one.

But why? I think there are many reasons, but the ones I can easily glean for now are these: Firstly, I am competitive. I like to do things others may not have done, or want to do. I like to prove to myself that I am better than last week’s version of myself. Secondly, I do actually love to run. I love how the world moves into focus and becomes clearer and further away at the same time. I love listening to my feet hit the ground; I love the feel of my breath, and the feeling of sweat dripping from everywhere. I love moving through space. Third, my body has disappointed me over the years. I have scars to prove that I wasn’t as strong as I could have been/ wanted to be/ should have been. So now I like to push that same body to chase limits it has never chased before.

This week, I decided I’m going to train for the Grandmaster Ultras that take place in February in Arizona. I looked at the videos of the trail and it looks reasonably terrifying: mile after mile of desert. Then why? Why wouldn’t I be content with my family, my profession (birth attendant), life in general. Does it have to be taken to extremes?

Yep.

First days of training: I’m hugely confident and excited and hugely doubtful and critical both at the same time. Not to jinx, but I really am just a kind of small 66 year old with delusions of grandeur. Small with more shapeliness than I ever had. I used to be more bony, which is good because who wants a bony Granny? And I know my grandson loves to cuddle.

The important thing for me is to stay on track, on a schedule. Today I did hill repeats, where you run up hard and down slower. This schedule idea is completely at odds with the way I lived my life for almost forty years, where my time was at the behest of babies, children, hens, and birthing women. I was on call 24/7 for about twenty years, and could never stick to a plan. But now I find that this task cries out for a plan and discipline keeping to it.

I’m doing strength training too, which is also new for me. I always kept fit carrying large bags of cement, 18 l jerry cans of water, children, bags of flour, stones (building), and all that. But I find the intensity and regularity of strength training is fun and calming.

Life can be so intensely disappointing. It never really works out the way you imagined it: not the little things all the way to the big ones. I’m watching our planet burn this summer and feeling sad. I read about factory farming in gruesome detail the other day in Jonathan Safran Foer’s book “Eating Animals” and I can’t eat them any more, even though when I’m training really hard I could literally take a bite from my dog’s haunch and chow it down. I organized a camping trip for a small group of women but then realized they were all young mothers bringing their kids. I felt like an outsider, and sad, and embarrassed.

But don’t imagine it’s just me labouring under disappointment: we all are. And don’t imagine that I am not also intensely grateful, thankful, and simply joyful to be on this planet with all of you. And that’s what it is: for me, the urge to run fifty kilometres in the desert on a weekend in February opens the possibility to split disappointment down the middle and replace it with joy, victory, satisfaction, and grace.

To Dye or Not to Dye

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.

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.

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. 

I've been reading Iron John 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."

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.

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. 

Maskne? You're kidding me...

 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 New York Times 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. 

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.

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.

No, my issue is that I have been struck bad with the Maskne, and I'm feeling like I'm 13 again.

• 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.
• I almost don't want to go out. I feel like people will talk about me.
• 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.

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.

 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.

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 ... 

It's funny what a few little zits can do to a gal's psyche!

A Cautionary Tale

I'm starting another Gratitude Alphabet. I first did one back in 2014, after my mother died. I think now is the time for another one: this past year has been foggy and strange for everyone, and sometimes we need to remind ourselves we are grateful.

I'm starting this alphabet with A for A Cautionary Tale.

In January 2020, I decided to start a run streak. That means that I would run at least a mile every single day. I ended up running a total of 1,111 miles during that year, and it was good. It helped me get out of the house; it gave me my much-needed solitude - living with a houseful of related males was fun and sometimes too much; it kept me fit.

In January 2021, I realized that my foot hurt pretty badly. And my muscles were cramping all the time: something was up! I am lucky - I have a family doctor, so I called her up and she sent me for an x-ray of my foot.

The day after the x-ray, I got a scary call. Severe Osteoporosis! No running, huge amounts of calcium and vitamin D, and a bone scan. I also added in some magnesium as I knew that the balance of calcium and magnesium needed to be maintained. My muscle cramps disappeared. My foot continued to hurt. I spent February sitting on the couch in the evenings having a drink (never more than one). Exercise wasn't happening. Oh, yea, I did the Plank Challenge. I can plank for two minutes. 

Bone scan happened. Three weeks passed! That's several different cocktail recipes. I wondered if I would ever be able to run again. Foot hurt. I got a fancy gizmo to wear on my toes. I was still on my feet every day working at my cafe.

March. My doctor calls me and says Oooops, weird. No osteoporosis, in fact my risk level is very very very low. I didn't bother asking why they said at first that I had the severe osteoporosis. Maybe because I'm 64, or who knows. Anyway, I don't have it so that's great! I started running again, short runs. I still want to do a 50k for my 65th birthday. But ... I am running very, very slowly. I feel weird when I run. Sluggish. I wonder if I have Covid. I can't seem to make my muscles move properly, but I'm not tired. Just "sluggish".

I kept running and decided it's the price you have to pay for taking an injury break. My running group leader said that it's the price I have to pay for doing a running streak. I'm just not convinced. Everyone's telling me different things, but none of it really adds up to how I'm actually feeling.

I teach a doula course. One of the main values that guides my practice, as a birth companion and as a teacher, is that we really only have our senses to guide us in this practice. One of our most valuable senses is the sense of intuition. I was chatting with one of my students about her main project, and she randomly mentioned that she takes magnesium at night after a stressful day: it helps her muscles relax and helps her sleep.

The next day, I stopped taking magnesium. A few days after that, I went for a run. I felt so different! I was back to my normal self! Yes, I'm not a fast runner, but I'm surely not a tortoise. I was literally poisoning myself with magnesium because of a suggestion that my doctor had made, on the basis of a false diagnosis!

My advice to you: 

• Know your body. If it feels weird, then it is weird. Something's wrong. If someone tells you something is happening in your body that just doesn't seem right, then try and figure out what's going on. 
• Be careful! Don't take supplements, herbs or anything unless you are very sure that it is safe and useful.
• Trust other people, but not 100%! Even a doctor can be wrong sometimes.
• If you're an older woman, perhaps a run streak isn't for you. Since my streak, I have been intrigued by how much of our advice in the sports and athletic world (and nutrition, and medication, and medicine...) is based on the adult male body. Women, especially older women, need to train differently from men. They have more stamina, but they burn energy differently, and most importantly, they recover differently. I was doing myself a disservice by emulating my heroes' run streaks, as I wasn't actually listening to what MY body needs. My body needs a day every week to recover and rest. 

I am grateful today for my healthy body, for the time I have to spend, for my lovely doula students.... oh, I am going way beyond A... tomorrow will be B.

Seek Peace

It is the time of year when a lot of people are thinking about the future: the darkest time of the year, in the northern hemisphere, and the coldest. I, for one, am hoping that in 2020 I can be a better person and I hope my friends and family stay healthy and get joy during this coming year.

I just started my new agenda for 2020. Passion Planner is my favourite agenda: it helps keep me focused, lets me multitask and still be organized, and I can write all my dreams, hopes and ideas in it and keep everything in one place.

Last Passion Planner (was in 2017, I skipped a year and feel I got disorganized), my main goal was to build up my cafe. I wanted to get to a place where I could make a living from it, instead of working for free and watching every penny. I had a secondary goal for 2018, to run a marathon. I achieved both of those goals that year and felt very proud.

This year, I have a few goals for 2020. I have pretty specific goals for my cafe. I want to grow my retreat project, WorkInProgress Retreats. I want to run a marathon in May, and my first trail race in October.

But the goal that I realized was my most important one for the start of this new year was "regain and retain my inner peace". I lost my centre this past year, and I'm not sure why. Partly from overwork, and a sense of fatigue. Partly from feeling like my "good works" - the projects I have put hours and hours of my life into - are such a tiny drop in the ocean ... it's almost not worth it. Partly from my intense sense of disillusion and concern for the political and social climate we live in. Anyway, my centre walked away, and I want to run after it.

One of the most interesting things about getting old in this culture is that there isn't a lot of value placed on having lived on the planet for a long time. In fact, the general feeling I get (apart from the lovely young people who offer me their seats on the metro) is that when you're over 60 you gain a certain stupidity, a certain slowness of mind and dullness of brain.

And, the fact is, my body is changing. So is my mind, and my heart. In fact, I am experience this change as much more radical than several of my previous ones. I slid into pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and child-raising like a fish into water (well, giving birth was tough...). I felt myself, I was alive and centred in my skin. Adolescence, on the other hand, was awful. I was already shy, I spoke with an accent, my hair was frizzy, I had crooked teeth, and I was smart ... AND two years younger than my classmates. I didn't feel at home in my skin for a long time. Poetry helped, and copious amounts of beer and other mood stabilizers.

Now I feel the same. Where did this frizzy grey hair come from? Why do I look so old in the mirror? How did my body get shorter? My knuckles are bumpy. I have arthritis in my knees.
This is not rational stuff: I know I am incredibly lucky to be as healthy as I am. I run marathons, for God's sake. But it feels like adolescence, all over again. And the difference is, this time I'm older and wiser. And I know how to regain my inner peace, and retain it.

So, a list for the coming year:

run every day, even if it's just a mile with the dog
be master of my devices
do a meditation retreat in 2020
say no if I want to (if it's not a big deal)
be kind
take proper care of myself
turn away from evil and do good
seek peace and pursue it
don't nag the kids
lower expectations
have lots of parties

I'll be letting you know how it goes. In the meantime, stay well everyone, keep joy, be kind, do good.