Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Blogging yesterday about the mud runs I compete in and then answering questions folks asked about them got me itching to begin racing again.

I took last year off from racing—all racing—for two reasons. I suffered a serious injury to my foot in early 2009 when I had a really bad fall down a steep mountain. That foot injury came to full fruition and threatened to have me undergo surgery by the end of 2009. So, based on that and my need to devote time to promoting my books that were released in 2010, I opted to give my body a break and let it try to heal on its own, something that was quite impossible with the race schedule of at least two races every month that I had maintained.

Then, I went in for surgery, not related to my foot, which had healed by then, at the end of 2010. Since then, I have fought hard to resume my mileage and keep in shape as my body has been healing. Now, I’m back to putting in thirty-eight miles per week. Currently, I train seven days a week nine times per week. I’m hoping, with everything in me, that I will be cleared to begin racing again when the mud run competition season begins in a few months.

Until then, I’ll continue putting in my miles and strengthening my body to what it was prior to my surgery, all the while craving with a passion being able to once again “play” in the mud.

Monday, February 28, 2011

Earlier today, I was looking at some of my mud run competition photos, and they got me to thinking. Yes, it is fun to get down and dirty and push myself to extremes as I race these competitions. But that’s not the only draw to the races, least not for me.

I’m hooked on these races for the very reasons I used to spend mass hours creating intricate obstacle courses in my backyard as a kid, or later in my own backyard for my children and their friends. I compete in the races for the same reasons that I scaled every fence and wall that blocked my path as a kid. Every tree that cried out it needed to be conquered. Every pole that had to be scaled.

I suppose the biggest reason I adore these competitions is that they remind me of those fun times spent as a kid. When I cared not how dirty I got, only that I overcame the challenges placed before me, and that I triumphed in the process.

And just as when I was a kid, my adrenaline and endorphins get racing at such high levels that I never notice—at the time—the cuts, scrapes, bruises or removed pieces of flesh that I endure. It’s only after, when the mud gets scrubbed off, that my “ouchies” are revealed. And there are always those—“ouchies.” But they don’t bother me. Though I have permanent scars from some of them, I wear them with pride, recalling just how much fun I had in the process of earning them.

There aren’t many things in life that allow us the privilege of reconnecting on such a tangible level with the best parts of our childhood. Mud run competitions allow me to do just that—reconnect—and have a heck-of-a time in the process!

Sunday, February 27, 2011

I find it fascinating how perspective plays such an integral part in things. Take, for example, the weather. Here in southern California, we’re blessed with truly nice weather the majority of the time. So when we do experience temperatures that dive down to the thirties or colder, folks tend to freak out a bit while others, who live in habitually colder regions, shake their heads at what lightweights we are.

Now I’m the first to admit that I don’t like cold. Actually, I prefer to say that I don’t do cold. But like most southern Californians, I know something the rest of the head-shaking individuals don’t seem to understand. Here in So Cal, we’re at a distinct disadvantage when the thermometer plunges.

To begin with, our bodies are accustomed to living in a warmer climate, and thus we tend to have thinner blood, not exactly conducive to staying warm. Then there’s our clothing. Here, we don’t tend to wear a lot of wool or other materials that insulate most efficiently. Instead, when it gets “cold” we throw on a cotton hoodie over our cotton clothing and are good to go.

So, perspective plays a big role in understanding the various situations folks find themselves in and how they handle themselves once there.

That brings me to the whole part of how folks perceive themselves versus the reality of how they actually are. We all know individuals who think themselves the most in tune compassionate beings when, in fact, they are the biggest jerks. This makes me wonder.

Like having thinner blood and wearing inappropriate clothing that prohibit us from keeping warm, could it be that those who delude themselves into thinking they’re oh-so-wonderful when they’re not, are ill equipped to know otherwise? Might it be that they’re too thickheaded or arrogant, or naive or dense to know otherwise? Could it be that they prefer a beautiful lie to the ugly truth? Or might they be aware, down deep, but too lazy, frightened or unaware of how to make themselves more favorable.

It seems like whenever I’m faced with folks like this, there’s no sense trying to talk with them, for instead of taking the constructive criticism offered as a means to improve upon themselves, they become defensive and lash out, effectively shutting out any valuable sensibilities that might have made a difference in them.

This makes me feel somewhat sad for them while at the same time utterly frustrated that there’s nothing I can do to help. That until the person, themselves is willing to remove their self-inflicted blinders and take note of how others perceive them, then there’s no hope for improvement.

So, like the person living in warmer climates that suddenly finds him or herself faced with temperature changes that plunge, the self-deluded individual needs to get thicker blood, lay down their defenses and thus ingratiate themselves into a climate that they otherwise won’t be able to adapt to.

But then, this is just my perspective.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

I’ve always been a glutton for being creative. Whether it’s with writing or creating things from scratch with my hands, if I’m creating something out of nothing, then I’m a happy camper. One of my favorite things to do is to take things that already are and modify them so I can use them in a completely different capacity, most often for the opposite of what they had originally been intended to be used as.

That’s what I’ve been doing today. My project has included working with wood, one of my passions. Ever since I can imagine, I’ve adored working with wood. The smell of fresh hewn wood, piles of sawdust gathering, the feedback a saw blade gives as it slices through a piece of wood are a few of my favorite things. Engaging in them has always brought me the greatest peace. Not sure why, but they have.

For years, I had an arts and crafts business where I made country wood decorations that I’d create on my scroll saw, put finishing touches on and then sell to customers across the United States. But though it was a lucrative business, I decided to close it down when working with wood became a chore instead of the passion I’d always known it to be. As soon as I retired that business, my love of working with wood returned to the fulfilling activity it had always been.

Today, as I sawed, ground and sanded away on different pieces of wood, little piles of sawdust formed under my work area. I found myself smiling at them and drawn to want to trace my fingers through that fresh-cut wood. Inhaling deeply, I drew in the scent of the various woods I’d cut and felt the greatest calm wash over me.

So, today was a great day. Got to do something I adore and find inner peace in the process.