Developing the Practice

As I was running today, I was thinking again about the book Mastery, that I've talked about before in here. We have been talking about this book a lot at work (it's going to frame what we do this year), looking at how it relates to the practice of teaching, or any other practice. 

I kept thinking today though, about what moves us from the "I'd like to do this" stage to the "this is my practice" stage. I have written in here about my mom, and her daily running. She didn't grow up running (or exercising) at all-- at some point, like tons of other non-exercising people, she had to make the decision to try it, and then at some later point, it became part of her life, a daily practice that was a given. My family also ate dinner together every night. It wasn't an organic, spontaneous kind of thing-- it was something that my parents made a conscious decision about and then worked hard to make sure it happened--but it also became part of what we did. At what point did it become part of what makes our family us, the same way being a runner is a big part of who I am? Even now, with both kids gone, my parents eat dinner and talk to each other every night over a glass (or two) of wine. Like exercising or eating healthy or anything else people want to incorporate in their lives, I'm sure it wasn't always easy to maintain. My brother and I did lots of different activities and both my parents worked full-time--but part of what makes their marriage successful (in my opinion, and I'm pretty sure they'd agree) is this daily ritual. 

So for the past couple of years, I've thought "I want to be more disciplined about writing. I want to write different articles. I want to write a book," but I don't write the way I run. I go through spurts the same way one of my friends goes through exercise spurts-- I'll write on a daily basis for a while, feel great about things and then slide the minute my new "schedule" gets jostled. Haruki Murakami said, about both becoming a novelist and

 running, that people do things because they suit them-- he became a runner and a novelist because those things suited him, as opposed to other choices. At some point though, running and writing became daily practices for him, and I am fascinated by where this moment is for each of us. I think writing does suit me (I'm not trying to be a painter, for example), but it's still not part of my daily practice the way running is. It just hasn't become something I do no matter what else is going on, the way I run and the way my family ate dinner together.

Ok. Enough of all that. I'm going to contemplate where to eat dinner tonight. 

Salsa withdrawal... on the trail??

Tilden Regional Park

(Wildcat Creek- Jewel Lake- Laurel Canyon-Wildcat Peak- Nimitz Way- Meadows Canyon- Nature Center)

(5.5 miles)

You know you've been without salsa for too long when you start dancing by yourself on the trail. I had my shuffle with me today, which I haven't used in a long time, and when Fulanito came on, I simply needed to have a moment in the middle of the trail. Maybe I need to get out this weekend...

Today was another needed run. I am SO tired of working on the computer right now. I have been trying to finish a paper today and get some other work done at the same time... with highly limited success on both tasks. I didn't really think I should be running steep hills, but I wanted to do a little bit of hill running-- especially to try and get a view of the current view-- or lack thereof.

This trail started at the Nature Center at Tilden Regional Park. It is true that Tilden is not necessarily my favorite place to run, but I used to run here a lot, and it brought

back some memories. The trail starts on Wildcat Creek trail, which I could take all the way to the Wildcat Canyon trail head I usually run from, but instead I turned off to take the miniscule trail shown above to Jewel Lake. The raised wooden walkway is only a quarter-mile long, but I think it's one of the prettiest little moments possible in all of Tilden. This tiny walkway leads to Jewel Lake, an adorable little lake/large pond that usually has a population of ducks and/or turtles. (For those who have children, this walk from the Nature Center parking lot to Jewel Lake is probably a great option for the 2-4 age group.)

Once I reached Jewel Lake, I took Laurel Canyon for a half-mile or so, until the Wildcat Peak trail forked to the left. These two trails climb sharply-- and it was here, in the middle of a hill-climbing moment, that I felt the need to do some solo salsa. Fortunately it was the middle of the week and no one was around-- but let this stand as evidence for the tragedy that could befall the world if I do not get some dancing in soon... who knows where I will next be forced to shake my derrière?

At the top of Wildcat Peak, visibility was pretty dismal. Normally one can see across the Bay, and all the way to Mt. Diablo on the other side-- today it was completely grey in front of me, and this was the view looking to the northeast. The body of water is San Pablo Reservoir, where I am planning to run soon.

I'm sure people already know about the fires in Northern California. The terrible visibility is partly from the smoke and partly from fog-- it's pretty cold and unimpressive as far as weather goes right now.

From Wildcat Peak, I took Nimitz Way. This is a paved path that leads from Inspiration Point, and it's one of the most popular places to run/bike/rollerblade in Tilden, but there were few people on the trail today. After I reached Inspiration Point, I took Meadows Canyon to the right and ran back to the Nature Center on a long and gentle downhill--and my knee felt great!

To end, a picture of some late-blooming wildflowers. As seen in the picture, Tilden and the surrounding hills are pretty brown and dry right now (hence all the fires), but these flowers were exploding in pink right next to the trail. I think they're wild sweet peas, but maybe I should ask my amateur botanist mother--the birthday girl, as I mentioned earlier today. (There's another way I'm turning into my mother! I want to know more about plants!)

Dogs? Well, they are not allowed in the Nature Area, and they have to be on leash on Nimitz Way, but they can be off leash on Meadows Canyon. Go figure.

Genetics

Last night, I was talking to my brother about the whole knee/swimming debacle, and he stopped me mid-sentence and said, "You know who you sound like?" I said no, to which he replied, "Mom. You know, she's always doing fourteen different things, exercising all the time." In my head I had a momentary internal monologue, where I tried to convince myself that I'm doing lots of different exercise because I signed up for the 50K in September, and the 50M in October, and SB9T in November-- like these were choices forced upon me, in which I had no say in the matter, and not because I'm just a little genetic apple, about 2 inches from the proverbial tree.

Don't get me wrong-- my mom is great, and I'm very happy she passed on her love of cooking and entertaining, commitment to running, willingness to invite people into her home, etc. But sometimes I like to labor under the delusion that I'm branching off into somewhat of my own life and not locked into the train-track of nature or nurture influence. 

Ah well-- at least if I follow in my mom's footsteps, people will be saying "she has great legs" when I'm over 60, as happened last summer to my mom. 

It's her birthday today as well-- Happy Birthday Mom! 

My Mom: The O.R.F.

O.R.F.= Original Running Female

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about daily practice (see previous posting), and how we get to it. In the past, friends have asked me how I manage to be consistent about getting a run in (or some other form of exercise) almost every day. 

I believe that a major part of how I got into sports in the first place was my dad's influence, and I'm not trying to discount his support at all, but when I think about the most consistent model in my life of daily exercise, I think of my mother.

My mom did not grow up in an athletic family, nor did she grow up in an era where women did a lot of sports. Somehow (maybe because of my dad, I don't really know), she started running. Raising two kids with a ton of after school activities and working full time (not to mention preparing a home-cooked meal every night) did not leave tons of extra hours, and my mom got up at 5:30 and ran before work every day. Most days she had finished her run and shower by the time I woke up, but it was always there. Daily exercise was just something you DID, irrespective of the other drama happening in your life. She didn't make a production of it--it wasn't Big Deal Running, it was just a daily practice. Sometimes she ran races, but she always made sure she got some exercise in.

Knowing many people in social work careers (teaching, non-profits, etc.), I have seen many people (particularly women) put others' needs ahead of theirs to the point of ill-health. Now, my mother is not the woman I learned to relax from, nor did I learn from her that sometimes indulging oneself is a good thing. She did teach me (through her actions) about holding a time sacrosanct every day for herself alone. It could be argued that my mother has so much excess energy that getting some of that energy out every day actually benefitted us as well, but she taught me it was possible to have a hectic life and keep some time sacred for oneself. I learned to carve out time every day for something I need, something that keeps me healthy.

I spent a year being a single foster parent for a teenager, and while it was one of the most profoundly amazing years I have ever had, it was also one of the most exhausting (I have SO MUCH respect for single parents!). Running was one of the anchors that pulled me through that year. No matter what was happening, I got out and ran, and I can thank my mother for setting the framework (perhaps completely unwittingly) for this practice. 

In a recent conversation, a friend remarked that when you set a boundary, in a sense, you are saying "I love myself." I grew up with a woman whose running said every day that she loved herself, that she was worth taking the time for, whether or not she framed it to herself this way. Because of this I have never questioned whether I was worth taking the time to make sure I do what I need to stay healthy. My mother gave me a powerful gift, even if she never knew (well, until she reads this) what I received. 

One of the clichés in teaching says "Modeling is the most powerful teacher," but like any cliché, it became a cliché because there is a large element of truth to it (otherwise, why would people repeat it)? I learned more from my mom's daily actions about taking time for my own needs and caring for myself than anywhere else. Modeling: the gift that keeps on giving... Seriously though, I think this quality of my mother's (that I have now made my own) has supported me every day more than almost anything else I can think of. I'm sure that she had no idea when she got up and put her running shoes on every morning that this commitment to herself (which is what taking care of yourself is) would end up supporting her daughter--but it did.

Happy Mother's Day to the Original Running Female in my life!