33. Ten (More) Things I Learned in my 59th Year -- Part 2

1.    Giving is so much more significant than receiving.
2.    Being aware, in the moment, is a great gift you can give yourself.
3.    Become aware that you are aware, and you grow by leaps and bounds.
4.    Change is a constant. It promotes good health to meet and greet it enthusiastically.
5.    Begin each meal or snack with some protein.  It sets internal processes in motion to best
       assimilate, use properly, and eliminate the food that follows.
6.    Do-overs are entirely possible.
7.    We were created to be creators.  It's who we are.
8.    Four reactions to severe catastrophe observed in the remains at Pompei: 
       a.  Cower in fear
       b.  Lie down in resignation
       c.  Protect what I have
       d.  Rely on faith
       In those moments, relying on faith provided peace and hope. 
       In all moments, we can rely on faith to accept and give love.
9.    Kenneth Kole makes the most comfortable high heels ever, in a line called "Gentle Souls."
10.  There's no place for fear in my life. It's a thief, a deceiver, and it can creep in subtlely. Best
       to dwell on its opposite--love.  God is love.

Part 1 began,
"Five days before my 60th birthday, I reached the summit I dreamed of this whole last year."

Part 2 begins as Carol, Peg and I continue to find our footing, climbing with heightened senses. We are visually inspired to take in the breathtaking scenery, yet at the same time, challenged to scrutinize every inch of snow-covered ground in our path. We're in awe of instant decisions we make with each step. We take into account the incline, the imagined terrain beneath the snow, the calculated slipperiness, and our ability to hoist ourselves to each chosen spot of ground. It all happens quickly and we are intensely aware of each action step, in the moment.

From time to time we cross paths with descending climbers and learn just how encouraging, or discouraging, a word can be.  We ask, "How much farther?...Did you make it to the top?...What's it like at the summit?"  Early on, a couple tells us they couldn't make it to the top, had to turn around. 

A bit further, a father and son team advises, "Take your time.  There's no rush.  You'll make it!" 

The farther we climb, the news becomes more and more confusing. "About 15 minutes," claims one.

Then the next, "About another hour and a half!"   We wonder if we're all on the same trail.  

We pass a father and his adult daughters resting on a strategically placed log. I think it shows our strength that we can continue on past them, at the same time I wish they weren't sitting there, so we could!

I call down to the lodge where Harold, Melinda, Michael, Jackie and Ed, surrounded by mountains, are basking in the sunshine on the deck.  "Jackie, we're doing fine, but we'll probably be later than I expected.  Please tell the restaurant staff to move our lunch reservation to a later time."  I'm aware of my breathing as we exchange messages. They are fully enjoying their morning in this crisp, clean sunshine, solving all the world's problems as they share this time together.  I think of how important every friend and family member is, for exactly who they are.  Some walk with, some talk to, some inspire, some make us laugh, some console, some support quietly, some enjoy being along for the ride...and it all makes me happy...so grateful for each one in my life.

The terrain is changing...we head into a more wooded area for awhile, relieved on this stretch without too much incline.  Now it's changing again.  Seems like the final stretch.  I call out as loudly as I can in the direction of the summit, "Matt, can you hear us?  We're on our way!  Almost there!"  But, no answer. Could we be further away than we thought? 

The altitude is a factor now, concentrating on breathing as we reach further and higher with each step, continuing on our most steep ascent of the day.  Though I want nothing more than to reach the top, I pause for a moment to snap a photo looking to my right and down...down, down, down to where we've come from. 

It's an arm-length away, the huge 15,000 ft. drop-off.  However, except for this second I take for the photo-op, it's not what I dwell on.  Instead, this whole climb is a lesson in determination and drive, focusing on one step at a time...being intensely aware of the exact moment of life I'm involved in...all senses heightened to make the best decisions, one step at a time to get to the top of this mountain...the top excruciatingly within reach, but challengingly out of reach. 

Mustering everything, pulling together every moment of the year's preparation into my movements, into my breath...in and out...labored, but not hurting, each step up is a step closer.

We really know this is it now.  Calling out one more time..."Matt! Harold! We're almost there! Can you hear us?" 

The trail is curving around the mountain-top...must be at such an angle our voices don't carry to them.  But we continue on, knowing, having faith, this is it, we're about to be there...the steps I'd imagined taking all year are just in front of me.

Then I see Julie peeking over the edge, then Patty, Gabrielle, then Rachel...Leslie...I keep climbing...

Carol's there first. Now I break onto the open flat area of the summit, into the waiting applause, arms, smiles, cheers...

"Peggy," I turn to welcome her to the scene, "We made it!"

I will never forget the feeling of these last few seconds.  At the top we experience an openness with everyone and everything.  The air is unbelievable and the view is incredible, but the look on each face is what's written on my heart. 

Truly a golden moment--a creation conceived in love, dreamed of in hope, carried out in faith, and experienced this one unique moment in time, with each other.

Part 2, the final record, ends relating that the exhileration of our descent is made possible ONLY because the young people give us their walking sticks which they have found on their ascent. With our sticks in hand, we sail down the mountain...living the emotions I prayed months ago...

I feel accomplishment and satisfaction in our descent.
I feel connected,
sharing spirits,
positively mingled with a presence so much greater than any one of us,
or all of us together--
which has granted us this gift.
I feel every degree in each of our lives which led us to the climb,
every beautiful moment, up and down its paths,
and
our continued fellowship at journey's end.
Breathing in,
I feel the awe of our time together,
Releasing,
Thankful,
Thank you.

Casual lunch at the lodge after the climb.

Deck in background where some waited.

Cousin Carol and Cheryl

Harold M., Leslie, Rachel and Matt

32. Ten Things I Learned in My 59thYear (Part 1)

1.   To walk boldly toward my goals.
2.    I won't die just because I'm gasping for air in an intense cardio workout.
3.    It's the journey that counts.  The destination is a bonus.
4.    Living out Love...Joy...Peace...I am my full authetic self.
5.    Negativity is never a good option. 
6.    Old patterns can be replaced with new ones.
7.    It's a tough world out there so it's important to give everyone a break.
8.    A deep refreshing breath can change everything.
9.    100-mile distance runners peak at 64 yrs. of age.
10.  When life puts snow and icy patches on your path, be grateful because reaching the summit is all the more sweet.

Five days before my 60th birthday, I reached the summit I dreamed of this whole last year. 

Cathedral Rock

For months I imagined hiking the trail up the mountain with friends and family, as I prayed the following prayer ...experiencing the emotions with these words:

I feel the earth and pine mountain in every cell of my body.
I feel the crisp blue and white sky sending honest, pure inspiration through, from head to toe.
Breathing in, I feel the health and safety of our climb.
I feel joy in the circle of family and friends.
I feel the send-off!
I feel the wonder of the climb,
our mighty muscles propelling each step,
our extraordinary balance and drive.
I feel invigorating cool breezes.
I feel humbled at the summit,
present in its place.
I feel accomplishment and satisfaction in our descent.
I feel connected,
sharing spirits,
positively mingled with a presence so much greater than any one of us,
or all of us together--
which has granted us this gift.
I feel every degree in each of our lives which led us to the climb,
every beautiful moment, up and down its paths,
and
our continued fellowship at journey's end.
Breathing in,
I feel the awe of our time together,
Releasing,
thankful.
Thank you.

Climbers--just before we started.

The Saturday morning arrives. Gathering by a statue of Ceasar--friends and family from New York, Chicago, St. Louis, Milwaukee, Phoenix--smiling, hugging, toting gear and water, walking to the vans, piling in, making adjustments, last minute glances at the directions, and we are off.  Circling around to the strip, turning right on Flamingo Road, heading out of town toward the mountains, the journey has begun!

Unexpected in my year of envisioning this day, is the snow that fell in the mountains two days before. First snow of the season--three inches.  Slippery conditions.  Trail closed. Moving ahead with the plan, expecting the best, we are not daunted.

City turns to suburbs, Vegas sub-divisions and expressway traffic jams.  Leaving it all behind, an hour later everything drops away as we turn onto Kyle Canyon Road to Mt. Charleston. 

Profound quiet that only nature's display of rocky desert hills and vegetation, against a backdrop of pine covered, snow-capped mountains can bring, falls down all around us...and at the same time lifts us up from a place deep inside.  These ascending moments, our ear-popping drive deep into the mountains, solidifies our bond with this adventure.

Knowing it snowed, we are prepared for cold temperatures.  However, the joy of the day is enhanced by sun shining down the mountains from a very bright clear sky as we step out of the vans at the Visitor Center. 

A decision must be made--opt for a dry trail on the dark side of the mountain (one with no summit or great views, but rather, a winding, horizontal trail) or, go for the original trail as planned which is completely covered with snow.  After the guide explains this information, I turn to Gabrielle, Julie and Rachel, receiving an immediate, "Let's go for it!"

Back into the vans, winding up another mile, we curve around into the Mt. Charleston Lodge nestled at the base of the trails, surrounded by mountains on every side.  We don't ask anymore questions. Time to contemplate is over. It's action time now.

The parking area to the closed trail is blocked off, but we park further down at another entrance. Water, hats, gloves, jackets...yes, everyone has what they need. Julie passes out Energy Goo for those who want it. Cousin Carol leans over to share with me, "You know, if we were our fathers, we would get everyone together now and say a prayer before we begin," just as I am about to gather everyone together to say a prayer!

In the cold but sunny parking area, next to the icy entrance to our trail, we stand together in a circle as I begin the same prayer I had felt for months leading up this moment:

I feel the earth and pine mountain in every cell of my body.
I feel the crisp blue and white sky sending honest, pure inspiration through, from head to toe.
......

and finish, this time experiencing the reality of this circle of friends and family about to climb together.  Harold ends with a traditional prayer and the young people are off and up the trail out of sight before I can turn around!

Three of us set our own pace, taking our own time, as we start this trail at 7,600 feet elevation and climb to 9,000 feet:

Peggy--who I've been very close to since we became friends in sixth grade in 1962.
Carol--my cousin whose Mom, along with my Dad, were the youngest of the twelve Gretz siblings and  shared a very close bond.
And I--who am most grateful for these relationships in my life.

We don't know how the altitude will affect us, but manage to talk the whole way!  We also take time to capture moments on our cameras and cell phones, posting a few to Facebook.  Carol even answers texts from her daughter regarding her upcoming wedding this New Year's Eve.  After a few, I think she texts something back to the effect of, "For crying out loud, I'm climbing a mountain here!"  We laugh. We stop occasionally to take a drink.  We are awe-struck at the views in every direction, the autumn yellow Aspens against the dark green Pines and the mountains, at one point bend in on each other over the trail creating a thick yellow sun-glistened canapy tunnel as we climb through the snow.

Concentration is keen on each step we place down, relying on instincts to know when and where we can find a good foothold. As the incline becomes steeper, each of us wonders silently how we will possibly get back down this slippery path.  

Up ahead we see my sons, Matt and Harold M. waiting for us.  They've stayed at this one particular spot waiting to help us up over the icy incline.  Matt hangs onto a tree, reaches down and takes Harold's  hand, who reaches down and extends his other hand to Carol.  He pulls her up over the ice, then does the same for me, and calls out to Matt as he reaches for Peggy, "Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand!"

Once they get us onto ground we can navigate, they're off again, up the mountain to join the other young people...


To be continued in Part 2

Palmer’s Chipmunks live only on Mount Charleston in the Spring Mountains, west of Las Vegas. They currently have protection under the Spring Mountain Conservation act in Nevada.

We met this one at the summit!

31. A picture's worth...well, a lot, especially with music!

In order to read the captions,

click a couple times on the video until it enlarges,

taking  you to Youtube where you will be able to view it much larger.

Ascending

February 27th, Sunday morning, I'll share the stairwell with thousands of climbers in "Hustle Up the Hancock's" stair race to the 94th floor.  My half-climb starts on the 42nd floor and ends 816 steps later in the skyscraper's observatory at the very top.  My visualization of that moment has empowered the many weeks of preparation.

Today's visualization, lofty and grandiose, will no doubt differ from the actual experience tomorrow. There will be time enough when it's all over, for the details of reality. 

For right now, I accept the lofty and grandiose side of my personality--today's visualization of tomorrow's climb:

This is not a test.  I already proved I can do it last weekend at a friend's high-rise.

I climb for the child in me who wants to play--with others, outside, every day--but who was not allowed.

I climb for the girl in me who didn't have an opportunity to be pushed physically by excelling in a sport.

I climb for the young adult in me who sought and searched, paid dues, settled down and closed down.

I climb for the mother in me who willingly poured everything possible into my children and forgot about myself.

I climb for the wife in me who continues to learn every day how to bring a better "me" to the relationship.

I climb for God's spirit in me which guides my steps.

I climb for the goal-seeker in me, the bull-dog in me, and the tenderness.

I climb for those who can't.

I climb for today.

One hundred to health.
Two hundred to fitness.
Three hundred to love.
Four hundred to the sun.
Five hundred to inspiration.
Six hundred to gratitude.
Seven hundred to creativity

and

Eight hundred to connectivity.

I carry words, calls, messages, looks and hugs of love and support with me all the way.

I climb the last sixteen steps, to Honor--

     16  my breath
     15  my history
     14  my family
     13  my words
     12  arms
     11  legs
     10  thoughts
       9  emotions
       8  decisions
       7  ideas
       6  water
       5  wakefulness
       4  sleep
       3  sight

       2    vision

                 and

       1          ...the moment!

I walk through the open door, out of the stairwell,
and into the light...

One step at a time.

29. Words From the Sky After Five Weeks at FitcampSD

Saturday February 12, 2011


Inside the walk-in closet, door closed, pulling a purple turtleneck over head, heart and heat of my San Diego winter, I prepare for my midwest homecoming.  Next, jeans, wool jacket and fuzzy long scarf--looped around the neck hanging loose, saying, "Not quite yet...there's a 7:00 a.m. sun rising over the bay and glistening waves sweeping the ocean steps away."


Sliding into leather clogs, warm socks meet the stiff platform heels--fortifying with height for my re-entry into Chicago's winter.


Surfers already made their post-sunrise run past the beach house.  Immersed in deep blue and white waves, they transition between oblivion and exhilaration. Wave to wave...they watch and wait.


Opening the closet door, I drag my suitcase to the stairs, not looking back.  I know I left nothing behind.  It's over.


For five weeks I made post-sunrise runs into my life on Mission Beach.  Daily early morning walks along the bay, afternoon journeys beach-side on the ocean--wave after wave of oblivion and exhilaration.  Meditation, deep sun rays--one wave.  Daily outdoor workouts, another...


I waited to see what each wave would bring.


Some were small discoveries like the beauty of multiple windsurfers across the sunset horizon, or an unexpected sand dollar washing up to my feet at water's edge.  One day, unexpected conversation and sharing with a neighbor, another, joyful talks with far away friends on the phone while walking the boardwalk.


Waves...


Others were surprising, as a friend decided to visit from Phoenix.  We cooked together, relishing our healthy meals.  We strained our muscles, then cooled down together in Fitcamp on the bay before laughing around a fire with friends.


Waves...


Some tightened inner strings of sorrow and helplessness while wondering how to help another on her own private journey, yet knowing it is her private journey.


Waves...


Some leapt with frivolous freedom--joking through a particularly tough part of the trainers' circuit, or exposing a fellow-Fitcamper to the delights of Trader Joe's.  Later, watching her face exude pure glee and happiness at the thought of having her car interior detailed--a symbol of her new "life-detailing" which includes breaking a ten-year addiction to daily fast food drive-through windows.


Now I sit buckled into United's 12C.  The pilot tells us in a few minutes we'll have a nice view on the right side, of Lake Tahoe.  In my I-Pod world the Black Crows sing, "I'm see'n things for the first time, see'n things for the first time, see'n things for the first time in my life."


Waves...


I rode some big ones:
 
Working through unfinished business with mother, who passed away sixteen years ago--deep into that wave. 

Realizing dedication to 100-150 squats and lunges per day, with 60-90 push-ups, lord-knows-how-many planks, curls, lifts, stretches and variations thereof, does far more than contour a body.  It also eliminates back pains, gives new energy, and heals whatever ails you if accompanied by proper fuel (healthy eating,) love, faith and friendship--a long steady ride.

Reaching back to help a new friend on the same rung of this life-ladder I lingered on for so many years--satisfying ride.

Preparing to see my husband after four weeks, when he flew in to join us at Fitcamp--rode that one high.

It's fitting to end this journey crunching "Simply Naked Bagel Chips" dipped in lemon-pepper tuna again, just as I began it on January 8th.  I'm out of the water, back on land, carrying my board home.  All I've learned, felt, experienced and shared, tucked underneath my arm.

I'll climb 52 flights of stairs on February 27th in the "Hustle Up The Hancock" stair climb, girded with the strength gained from every move made in these last five weeks, buoyed by inspiration from my family, friends and trainers.  Each step I take will not only take me closer to the 52nd floor, but will also take me closer to the top of the mountain on my 60th birthday in October.

I raise United's "Sunrise Sunset" cocktail to my lips past the purple turtleneck...

Edgar Winters is singing my parting words today:

You know I used to weave my words into confusion,

and I hope you'll understand me when I'm through. 

You know I used to live my life as an illusion,

but reality will make my dreams come true.

I owe much thanks to FitcampSD's trainers, Rhonda, Carisse and Palani.  Six days a week, we met in Mission Bay Park to work out together.  Every day was a little different, always challenging, always fun. After five weeks I feel so much better physically, stronger, and more confident.  Getting in touch with working to make my body stronger, enabled work to strength many other areas of my life also.  Way to go FitcampSD! 

Cheryl, Rhonda, Carisse, Palani

28. Perspective Half Way Through

At the Crossroads of Sunset and Moonlight

I watch early morning seagulls gliding through the sky to their flawless landing atop the lamppost of my San Luis Rey & Ocean Front signpost.  Six of them seem to be playing together as they dart from rooftop to rooftop, then burst off circling the beach, back to another rooftop, now swoosh up again o'er top of the serious 7:00 a.m. volleyball players, and finally line up on the arc of the lamppost. 


Perhaps they're resting, or napping--do birds nap?--as they sit side by side, silhouetted in synchronized perfection.  One breaks away to come perch on a ledge directly above my curious head.  She looks down, I look up, we share a moment, and she's gone. She doesn't join her five napping companions, but finds her own curved post on the beach's far end by the park.  When the five decide to take off swooping and soaring again, she remains, preparing for her day ahead.  As do I.


Half way through Fitcamp in San Diego, half way through living in a sun-filled paradise instead of Chicago's frozen winter wonderland, half way through whatever I hope to accomplish while I'm here...pause, deep breath...I ask what will my days ahead bring?


I'd imagined the daily workouts before I came.  Imagining and experiencing, of course are two very different things.  The first week I now realize was sheer will power, forcing myself to participate, to follow the trainers with my heavy, awkward moves.  The second week, promising myself to attack the workouts instead of simply experiencing them, again my head said attack and my body said, "Oh, alright, but up to a point."

I took a morning off here and there, to walk to the water's edge and bend down for this shell and that (discovering when done correctly, I was actually performing squat after squat anyway)  but never missed Fitcamp in the evenings and on Saturday mornings.

I learned about balancing my protein, carbs and fat, and to write every single item in a food diary.  I shared with friends--some who teach me much, and some I'm able to pass it on to. 

I had interesting discussions with my neighbor upstairs about artists and atheletes.  I accepted the generosity of the trainers driving me back and forth to Fitcamp. I tuned a friend's first Ukulele for him (and followed "Ukulele Mike" online learning to play "Amazing Grace".)

I brought together a friend from Phoenix with a San Diego friend who will now be able to work together in a portion of each's business venture, and, I discovered I could walk 2 -6 miles to get whatever I need to get done in a day!  Grocery store, post office, real estate office, drug store--all there waiting for a good walk.

I haven't written here in the blog for awhile...it seemed like so many details regarding push-ups, lunges, planks, lateral squats, every type of bicep/tricep/and all other muscle group resistance exercise, and on and on,  kicks, jabs, steps, knee-raises, and on and on...  my daily grind didn't seem like something to write about.

However, half way through, I've gained perspective. 

I turned a corner. 

My body isn't telling me what to do on the mat and on the grassy obstacle courses, I'm telling it what to do!  It's a new feeling, one which I believe is moving toward balance.  In the future I hope to continue working together, mind and body, toward accomplishing my goals.

In the future I hope to bring you along, bring my friends along, swooping and soaring together, finding our own perches when we need them, and lining up together when we need to share. 

If you could fly... 

You can.

One step at a time.



Discovered today in the preparation details for the "Hustle Up The Hancock" on Feb. 27th, that the 94 story climb has 1632 steps, but the 52 story climb, which I'm doing, only has 816 steps! Sounds like a piece of cake compared to the over-1000 that I previously thought it would be.  Still have a lot of training to go, but I believe it sounds manageable now.

Yesterday I learned my first Ukulele piece, discovering I'd like to purchase one and learn to play.  Unbelievably, last evening a friend back in Wisconsin invited me to go with her to a Ukulele workshop in August--out of nowhere--we'd never, ever spoken of Ukuleles before!  I'm in. 

27. Hearing the Difference

Oatmeal with Blueberries, Cantaloupe, and Sprouted Whole Grain Toast

This photo is the new wallpaper on  my laptop. 

Every reminder to stay on course helps.

After working out every day--most days twice--in addition to walking two to four miles, it would be self-sabotage not to eat healthy meals.  It would be self-sabotage to indulge wildly on some kind of sweets binge.  It would be self-sabotage to eat fast food, full of calories and high in fat.

That's why I flew two thousand miles, spent the year's vacation money for housing, dedicated my fifty-nine year old body to working out two times a day, and told everyone I know about it.  With all that at stake, there is absolutely no room for self-sabotage. 

I walk by pizza joints, taco stands, ice cream parlors, burger bars, and bars period, every single day--sometimes several times a day.  I think about stopping.  Once I did, for a taco, then proceeded to remove all the cheese, half the ground beef, and guiltily (which actually is a word, I looked it up) nibbled at the lettuce and tortilla.  It felt good to get back to my little retreat cottage and cut up fresh vegetables to eat with my chicken breast dinner that night.

Accountability is built into every aspect of this phase of my journey.  It's working.

A shift takes place when I'm in this zone.  I'm satisfied with small portions and unhealthy choices become less and less appealing. 

However, I've traveled in this zone before--many times.  The most recent, in 2009 as I prepared over a three-month period for my son's wedding, losing quite a few pounds and developing some fairly healthy eating patterns.  Three months later, it was business as usual, putting the weight back on and munching all day on whatever was at hand. 

Something has to be different this time

to

turn a zone into a lifestyle.

What will that difference be?  At first I was counting on the sheer sacrifice and effort of going through this fitcamp daily, so far from home, to be the key--the determining factor that makes this experience different from all others. 

Now I know it's more.  I haven't learned the full of it yet.  I feel the beginning though. 

It is tied into being myself--the true authentic self I was created to be.  It is tied into having removed myself from every possible negative factor and energy that could keep me from completing this journey to wholeness.  It is tied into meditating on God and a universe that is so grand, and yet knowing at the same time, I am part of that plan. 

It is grand.  Nothing petty.  Nothing pesky.

 

No part of sabotage is in God's plan.

I feel the beginning of this difference

which is tied into

my gut/heart/soul/spirit, you pick, 

telling me with every step I take,

"You experienced your workouts last week. 

Now this week you must attack them."

It is tied into knowing I have actually

not been down this road before,

ever.

26. By the Light of the Moon -- it's Silver Crescent Bright

TODAY'S BREAKFAST

"How nice it is for you now, to have such a change in your life!"

This was the response of my upstairs neighbor upon hearing of my severly unfit and overweight past, as well as my current goals of climbing/hiking a mountain and participating in the John Hancock stair climb.

I assumed she meant the change of having all my children grown and the time to spend on these endeavors.  However, she explained, "No, I mean the change for you--now you get to be an athlete."

Never had I heard the word athlete in reference to me.  Over the next few minutes I realized that, indeed, I am training to do something athletic--to be an athlete! 

Fitcamp started yesterday. Three outstanding trainers, people you want to know and have as friends, have a dream.  I have a dream.  It just so happened that the timing on both of our dreams coincided!

Rhonda, Carisse and Palani began their new venture called  fitcampSD  on New Year's Day, at least the part of it which entails the actual workouts.  Months of planning and years of preparation brought them to that moment.  Each is trained, skilled and certified in various physical fitness strategies.  They have years of experience in the field.  They also have a heart for people and for making the world a better place.

I began my fitness journey forty-two months ago.  For three years I learned what it is to experience going to a gym regularly, to follow a trainer's instructions, to step, lift, kick, lunge and stretch with a group class, and to pick myself up after falling off the proverbial wagon!  After ups and downs, gains and losses, frustrations and elations I kept coming back.

Long story short--when I contemplated turning 60 in Oct. 2011, I decided the time for ups and downs is over.  Now it's time for a focused "straight ahead."  Straight ahead toward a goal, each step I take informs me of the next, and prepares me for the mountain hike/climb in October.  More importantly, this is training to become all that I can be, not only for myself, but for my family, my friends, my community and the world around me.  A healthy body plays a most vital role.

Many think it strange to have flown from Chicago to San Diego to work out.  I see it as the next step toward a goal, just as Rhonda, Carisse and Palani see each workout as the next step toward their goals.  The paths to our dreams crossed, bringing us all to last night's stretches, lunges, push-ups and leaps in Mission Bay Park by the water, under a light, on the grass, on dewy mats, with increased heart rates and the joy of living.

This morning as I rose from bed to contemplate my morning workout, I'll admit I had to find the ibuprofen bottle first.  But then I wall-squatted and planked and was on my way again through another workout,  followed by my reward--a two mile walk along the beach with the sun seeping into my shoulders and back, and a clear blue sky above the tops of the palm trees!

The prospect of doing this over and over, morning and night for the next thirty days is a bit overwhelming if I don't think of myself as an athlete.  If I do, I'm simply burning rubber on the road to reaching my goal.

25. We All Watch the Same Sun

Sunday:  Walked the path along Mission Bay today, shopped at oceanside beach stores, talked with shop owners, walked the beach and made an appointment with my first sunset of this journey.

My deck, at home before I left Chicago.

I walked out of my San Diego place this morning, layered as if I was still in Chicago. Ten minutes into the walk, I  began removing them one by one.   San Diego has experienced record highs this time of year in the 80's, but over these next few weeks the highs forcast are between 64 and 68 degrees.  Considering the highs forecast for Chicago this coming week between 17 and 28 degrees, I am not complaining!

A handsome young Australian rang up my purchase this morning in his beachfront store.  I commented on how nice the weather was and how I'd worn too many layers thinking it would be colder.  He remarked that, he too, had done the same.  His next remark surprised me.

"Now I'm stuck though.  I made the mistake of putting on a tank top underneath.  So if I take off my sweatshirt, I'll have to hold in my stomach all day!"

I didn't think I'd heard him correctly.  It was exactly the kind of statement I might make.  I looked across the counter more carefully, and still only saw a handsome looking young man, certainly not overweight!  I replied something about men not really having to worry about that. 

He assured me, "Oh yes we do.  Especially as we get older, you know?"  Again, something I do indeed know, but was quite amazed to be hearing it from him.

We continued our chat pleasantly and I was on my way. 

I'm always trying to remember how we are all connected, how we all have fears, anxieties, misgivings, and regrets, as well as successes, accomplishments and good fortune.  There is not one set of privileged people who get to skip over all the negatives. 

Why can't we each be more aware of our common traits and trials, and less strident about our differences?  Concentrating on the differences only builds up unnecessary walls that keep us from relating to each other and lifting each other up.

Maybe I'll say hello again on my next walk and tell him about FitcampSD!  I wouldn't have thought he needed it, but sounds like he could use the physical boost of confidence.

I learned sunset was for 5 p.m. today.  At 4:48 I made my way across the street and up the path to the beach, only to discover I was a few minutes too late to see the full effect.  In the future I'll give myself more time.  However, there was something uplifting about making that appointment with the sun.  At home, I have to say, I take the sun's comings and goings for granted.  

Tonight, my steps bounced, around a few blocks extra, on my way back from the sunset.  When I walked into my place, I poured sparkling water into a wine glass to toast the sun--a ritual I'm looking forward to repeating in these weeks to come. 

My patio just before sunset.

 



24. "Fly away, fly away, close my eyes and I can fly away..."

Joni Mitchell’s singing “Ca-li-for-nia…I’m coming home, I’m gonna see the folks I dig... " on my I-Pod, flying west, clear and bright with purpose.

Next Leslie and Steve sing about walking this world looking for light, “Where are the strong, who are the trusted, and where is the harmony…sweet harmony…” while I spoon up unsweetened applesauce and crunch “simply naked” bagel chips dipped in lemon and pepper tuna (United's “Lite Snack.”) I must mention, crunching bagel chips with earphones on, sounds like an army of boots marching through fields of broken ice inside my head!

I haven’t felt this exact exhilaration since my early twenties when I left college for a time, packed all my earthly belongings into my pale blue Volkswagen bug, and headed west-- destination unknown, just west. See you on the dark side of the moon!

The difference is, then I was trying to find myself-- searching by throwing myself into the world and seeing what stuck! Now, I know myself, I know life, love and sorrow.  I know what it is to give myself away purposefully, to accept responsibility, to be careful when necessary, to defer dreams, to live dreams, to share adventures, to build a life, nurture a family, and join a community.

Some of these lessons came more easily than others. Leslie’s singing, “…Whatever spins a grim tornado, can also turn a potter’s wheel…”  I’ve spun some grim tornadoes in my time, haven’t we all! 

This time I head west, not to find myself, not to “see what sticks,” but rather, to give and receive mutually, interconnected with the land, the people, the circumstances, and opportunities all around. Expressing love, becoming all I can be-- the whole self I was created to be, I’ll find direction one step at a time.  I'm awed by the love of my family and friends, the strength which holds me up, allowing continual discoveries.

Thank you!

In two more hours I’ll get out of a cab on San Luis Rey Boulevard, the driver will lift two heavy suitcases from the trunk and place them in front of a gate. I’ll use the combination given for the lock box of my beach rental in Mission Bay, San Diego. I’ll walk through the gate, across my patio and into the next five weeks of my life.

I’m coming to you from thousands of feet in the sky, dipping my naked bagel chips into the can of lemon pepper tuna which looks like cat food, and sipping my “Sunrise Sunset” cocktail, because I am celebrating the beginning of this journey-- flying west with the sun, listening to every note of inspiration.

Pink Floyd just said, “I’m not afraid of dying,” then (The Great Gig in the Sky) wails out the most inspired three minutes and thirty-six seconds of wailing, period, ever...  So glad I finally discovered this I-pod world.

The adventure begins.

Written Saturday, 1 p.m.

Once unpacked, walked three miles exploring. (As well as trying to find a "Trader Joe's" to stock the kitchen.)
Tomorrow is a day of rest, then two workouts/day begin on Monday.
Goals:
1) Reach the proper readiness level for the race up the stairs of the John Hancock building on Feb. 27th, 
2) Establish a healthy pattern of exercise, and a nutritionally sound, well- balanced eating plan as a new lifestyle.
3) Have fun doing it!

Dinner Tonight

23. A time to remember...

Preparing for Harold's mother's funeral tomorrow, I shopped for something to wear.  Though I rarely wear a dress, in Lucille's honor I bought a dress.  Though I never wear a hat, in Lucille's honor I bought a hat.  Then, as I was walking to the checkout, a young girl and her mother walked ahead of me and the mother could have been Lucille from the back.  She turned to the side, and it could have been her from the side.  The woman looked just like her, hat and all. 

I didn't know Lucille when she was young.  As a part of the "greatest generation" (though the phrase seems to have come from descriptions of, well... men... who went to war)...anyway...let's say... members of my parents' generation, she and her husband, Harold Sr., raised their children  in the manner of the day--their sons looked sharp, dressed sharp, knew their place in adult company, obeyed, deferred to and respected their elders, sat still in church, stood tall for their annual September teaspoon of Castor oil, and left the house each day knowing they represented their parents and the honor of their name in every thought and action... knowing they carried the Spooner name in each step they took.

We met on Valentine's Day weekend in 1974.  I didn't know what to expect.  All I knew was, somewhere in those fall and winter months of my senior year at Houghton College, I'd fallen in love with her son, Harold Jr.

Lucille and her husband had "moved on up" to Tracy Towers in the Bronx. Her Mom, Minnie, lived with them.  In fact, Lucille had lived her whole life with Minnie, whose husband had died when Lucille was young.  She and Minnie made their way from Mississippi to New York City, settling down in Harlem, where she later met her Harold in church.  But I digress...that Valentine's Day in '74 I walked past the doorman, into the elevator, and up to the twenty-sixth floor wondering what lay ahead.

I met Minnie (Grandma Jackson to us,) who was so very glad to see her grandson and his new girlfriend.  She slipped me some money and proceeded to ask me to buy her a new sweater and slippers the next time we went out.  I was only too happy to oblige.  I soon learned this was one of her idiosyncrasies, when the rest of the family heard this request-- laughter and explanations swirled around--they took very good care of her and would get her anything she ever wanted, and they did, every day.  Yet, when I met her, she'd asked me to do this as if it were the only way she could get new slippers and a sweater!  Lucille loved her mother dearly, but also lived with her attitudes that seemed to be growing in her old age.

We sat down to Lucille's fine homemade dinner of fried chicken, potato salad, macaroni salad, greens and rice, all prepared with much love.  Of course Minnie was called to come join us all around the table, but she said she wasn't very hungry.  Then she proceeded to sit down and eat a healthy plate of firsts, and seconds, ...of everything. The family knew this was coming, all joking and laughing as the ritual unfolded.

The next day I sat with Lucille, helping with the laundry duties, just the two of us.  As we reached down into the washer, pulling out tightly rinsed garments to throw into the dryer, she said, "When my son told me he was bringing home a girl for the weekend, I was very excited.  But then he said...'Mom, she's a white girl.' 

She went on, "At first I was disappointed, and said, 'Oh, a white girl??'  But then I thought about it.  I realized, this is the woman my son loves.  If he loves her, and she loves him, then...that's what's important."

She finished her story to me by saying, "...And I've been alright with it ever since.  I just had to think about it, that's all."

I will never forget those words.  I will never forget Lucille's voice as she spoke them.  I can see us both together in that laundry room 36 years ago, as clearly as if it were today.

I remember her voice calling to ask about each of our children on the phone over the years, her voice of advice and encouragement the first time I had to deal with a racial incident in my son's pre-school, her laughter and confidence when the four of us were playing cards together, her concern for the young people in her community, her pride and love for her husband, "Spooner," (who, by the way, is definitely in my greatest generation description, as he proudly served our nation at war in the Merchant Marines.) 

I remember her joy describing the cruises she'd been on, and I'll never forget the first time I saw Lucille and Harold Sr. dancing--they could have been on "Dancing with the Stars!"  I remember her love and care for her mother, her family, her church family, and her God. I can see her vividly, sitting each early morning with her tea and toast, and then reading her Bible.

No, I didn't know Lucille when she was young. And, many miles separated us for long periods of time as we both grew older.  However, I was privileged to have been touched by her life, privileged to have walked with her in the moments that were granted to us in time, in the life of our family.  I thank her (especially for her son, but for everything really) and, I pay tribute to her for her life of work, dedication, perseverance, consistency, loyalty, understanding and love.