The Exceptional People Biography Book Club---for Exceptional People

About five years ago, in one of my “why can’t I find a good man” phases, I came across the Extraordinary Women series on PBS.  The episode was a biography on Coco Chanel, and what struck me, as I watched, was how she struggled finding a happy, lasting relationship.  Of course, she lived in the 1920s, when women were still defined as “Mrs. Husband,” so she couldn’t be successful without a husband.

I then remembered an autobiography I read years ago about Myrna Loy.  She’s most famous for being Mrs. Nora Charles, the wife of famous detective Nick Charles (played by William Powell) in The Thin Man movie series.  I had plucked it from the library at random, but now The Thin Man is one of my favorite movies.  However, what I remember most about her autobiography was that after four marriages and four divorces, she realized that she was happiest single.  Of course, it was a lot easier to be a single woman in the 1960s when you were a Hollywood legend, but it struck me that once again, a successful, smart, independent woman….didn’t need a husband.

So why on earth was I, a career focused, independent, self-sufficient woman in the 21^st century, judging myself for not getting married and having kids?  Why did I think there was something wrong with me, instead of looking at the mirror and realizing that I was living the life that Coco Chanel and Myrna Loy and Grandma Westphal wished they could have lived?  I mean, Coco Chanel and Myrna Loy were exceptional, successful women.  Maybe my husband struggles were more a reflection of my exceptionalism instead of my failure.

Of course, it would take another bad relationship for me to truly accept that about myself, but hey, we’re all human.  And I’m GenX, the girls who were taught they could be astronauts and politicians, but also were expected to find the time to date, get married, have children, go to yoga, join a book club…..

Oh, right, book club.  After this awakening, I decided that I needed to be reading more biographies of exceptional people, and last month, I went down to Chicago to meet Adam Rippon, the hilariously funny openly gay Olympic bronze medal winning figure skater turned YouTube talk show host.  If Adam isn’t exceptional, I don’t know anyone who is.  It was a book signing for his autobiography, Beautiful on the Outside, and I brought it with me to New York as a fun read. 

That's not a photo from NYC, but it's still a good book

Adam had said during the question and answer session that he picked moments of his life that were relatable to everyone, and there were several times where I’m thinking, “wait, that happened to me.”  Maybe not hopping a subway in France to buy a shirt at H&M during a competition, but definitely the multiple hour breakup conversation.

While reading Adam’s book, I decided to challenge myself to read a biography (preferably, an autobiography) every month.  Typically, biographies are written about people with exceptional lives, and often, these exceptional people weren’t successful fitting into societial norms.  Actresses and activists, heroes and nonconformists, they remind us that it is okay to be different, that being “different” might mean being extraordinary.  And maybe, help us find that exceptional voice inside ourselves, because we are all exceptional.

Which is why I’m starting the Exceptional People Biography Book Club for Exceptional People.  Every month, I’ll post on my Instagram a short review of the biography I’ve read.  I’m also very open to suggestions of good biographies and autobiographies.  Who has inspired you?  What story moved you so much that it changed your life?  Send me a comment, email, direct message or smoke signal, and let’s all discover how each one of us is truly exceptional!

Star #3: New York, New York

This journey, to run all six majors by my 50^th birthday, wasn’t really about the actual races.  My journey through the boroughs of New York City wasn’t really about running a marathon, either.

After 9/11, my mother suffered a mental breakdown.  I was living with my parents at the time, and working as a public skate guard at an ice rink about 45 min away from home after being laid off from my first chemistry job in April.  She had always been nervous about my more independent nature, as she rarely did anything alone, but as she lost touch with the reality that I was an adult, I wasn’t allowed to leave the house without a cell phone and promises to check in.  (There was one incident where I was working the Friday night public skate, and because the police station was two doors down, an officer was parked outside the rink entrance as I walked out of there and to my car.  I figured that since I was super-safe, I wouldn’t have to check in with her.  I walked in the front door to my mother, so convinced that something bad had happened to me, was about to call the police.)

I lived in that environment for about a year and a half before taking a job as a traveling consultant and buying a home of my own.  While I was traveling the country and making mistakes and learning, my mother’s fear of something happening to me if I left my safe suburban life remained in the back of my head.  I rarely would even travel to Chicago, outside of the trips to the airport required for my job.  When I commuted to Princeton, NJ in 2008, the idea of going to New York City, visiting Times Square and the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island alone was out of the question.

After a fantastic Chicago Marathon with the Muscular Dystrophy Association, I learned they had a New York City Marathon team.  The two marathons would be three weeks apart this year, so I signed up for both, with a goal to raise $7500, a test to see if I’m ready for Boston or London’s charity fundraising requirement.  In the excitement of knowing I would be finishing another major marathon, it never occurred to me that I might be a solo traveler; I was in a relationship at the time, and usually a few people from my run club might get in by lottery so there might end up being a nice group.

In the end, there were five of us:  three who qualified by time, myself, and someone who did get in via lottery.  However, I was the only one who wanted to expand the trip into more than running a marathon, and by summer, my boyfriend and I were through.  I booked my trip solo, renting an AirBnB in Harlem for a few nights after the race and purchasing tickets for both the Statue of Liberty and the 9/11 Museum.  I figured that I had three days before the race with both my charity team and my Libertyville Running Club teammates to get an understanding about the city, and I’d have my smartphone and Uber.  And of course, that 26.2 mile jog from Staten Island to Manhattan.

I flew into LaGuardia, and immediately, there were people in running shoes and jackets everywhere.  Talking to the lady at the information desk, I scrapped my plan to take an Uber because she said the subway was so easy.  And it was.  I came out only three blocks from my hotel, and really, it was no different than wandering around the Chicago Loop.  Win!  I also discovered my Maps app had directions via public transit, which made everything super-easy, especially later in the trip.

Between the LRC and MDA, all of my meals, my walk to the expo, and even getting to the bus in front of the library race morning were with friends.  Two of us even walked around Times Square.  The best moment was walking down the peanut butter aisle in Whole Foods the night before the race and realizing that there was no way for them to prepare the amount of bagels and peanut butter needed for all those runners, staying in hotels around Midtown.  Total apocalypse.  I grabbed the closest thing, plus two cookies to counteract the super-garlicy bread at dinner, and decided to make do with what I’m thrown.

Times Square

Actually, that became the theme of race day.  While the race starts at 9:40 am (and my wave at 10:35 am), we had to be up at 4:15 am to make a bus to get from Manhattan to Long Island.  I woke up healthy (which is a fear when the dry hotel air is giving me a slight tickle in my throat) and ready…..to sit on a bus for two hours and then the start village for another two.  In stop and go traffic.  So in the midst of balancing hydration and nutrition and digestion and porta-potties, I also had to consider the potential of motion sickness.  Fun times.  I distracted myself by meeting new people, but by mile 10, some issues arose that required me to focus on how I was going to keep putting one foot ahead of another.  A potty stop and shoe unlacing at mile 16, the realization that I was near PR pace at 19, and a near sprint to finish below five by the end.  The Wave 3 clock at the finish said 5:01, so I didn’t realize my time until I got back to my hotel and saw the texts from friends who were tracking me.  I collapsed on the hotel room floor, crying. 

Back home with the LRC, celebrating my 4:56:56

The race itself is now just a series of snippets, going by so fast that I barely remember it.  The quiet start up the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  Running on the expressway as the UPS trucks used for bag check race by.  The welcomes as we entered each borough.  The noise and enthusiasm of loudspeakers and unofficial aid stations and even homes decorated for the race in Brooklyn.  The constant up and down of the road.  The runners from around the world.  The selfies on the Queensboro bridge.  The seemingly never-ending First Avenue.  Trying to wave to the motorcycle camera in the Bronx.  The long uphill into Central Park (Mile 23!), and just floating up and down the hills to the finish.  It was fun and glorious…..until I was in a crowded finish chute, barely able to put weight on my pained right foot, starting to chill.  It was such a long walk that after I got my poncho, I found a bench and sat down for a while. 

After a warming shower at the hotel and an evening celebrating our accomplishments, my roommate, Kate, headed back to Chicago while I headed out to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island.  The hotel held my bags, so I hopped on the subway for the short trip to the ferry launch.  On the subway, a family got on with a toddler in a stroller.  The toddler crawled out of the stroller, and not understanding the rhythm of the train, stumbled and hit her head on a pole.  The entire car, made up of people of all backgrounds and cities of origin and tourists and languages, all gasped, almost in unison.  No matter what our differences may be, we are all human.

Hey, I ran over that on Sunday!  Mile 1!

That became the theme as I traversed New York the next two days.  I finally saw the Statue of Liberty and visited Ellis Island.  I cried my way through the 9/11 memorial museum.  I stayed in a lovely garden apartment in Harlem.  I traveled by subway and quietly listened to two women trying to do good in the schools, just as I do on many a Thursday night.  I saw a community where the businessmen stand outside, greeting the people they see every evening.  I got takeout from the Queen of Soul Food.  I ate ramen at a shop hidden from the street.  I got a fist bump from the barista at Starbucks.  I got a great local beer recommendation (Interboro Brewing Double Fluffed Stout) from a Whole Foods employee.  I even got asked directions.  Sorry, it’s my first time here.  I took the bus to the airport, and waiting for my flight, met a server who had volunteered all day at the Biofreeze station.  I was told that New Yorkers are blunt and rude, but I found a strong sense of humanity and community.

 

In the end, I conquered New York twice.  Once on race day, but also navigating the city in the days afterwards.  Halfway through this journey, both five years and three stars, and I’m learning what a good traveler I’ve become over the years.  I’ve found not only the dream I want to pursue, but the passion and gumption to make it happen.  I took risks, overcame challenges, and rolled with the punches.  The scared little girl, trapped behind her mother’s anxiety in 2002, was now standing where they watched workers sift through the ashes and steel on TV every night.  Both that girl and that land has changed dramatically.  The pain and hatred inside of Ground Zero is now a beautiful place to reflect, remember, and memorialize.  The fear and insecurities in the little girl have been replaced with strength and confidence.

The Sphere, which was located on the plaza between the two towers

It may feel like the happily ever after ending, but these were the “easy” marathons, really.  The three remaining—Tokyo, London, and Boston—are much harder to gain entry.  I maxed out my network fundraising and came up just short of $5000, so work remains before I can apply to run for charity.  They are also going to be significantly more expensive than the three I’ve completed, between the two international major cities and the training regime needed to qualify for Boston on time, which is now a little over an hour.  Well, the biggest challenges in a trilogy always arrive at the very end, right?  So the journey continues, one step at a time….

The PRACTICE of Life

I had an epiphany on New Year’s Day while doing yoga.  It was a new routine that I had found on YouTube, a restorative/meditative session, but I was having trouble synchronizing the breathing of a distance runner to the instructions on the video.  At one point, I realized my shoulders were tensing and my jaw was stiff.  It was supposed to be a calming, relaxing experience, but instead I was so anxious about doing it perfectly, I was instead stressed.

It was silly in so many ways, but mostly because yoga isn’t a competitive experience but a practice.  The goal of practicing yoga is to deepen poses, and the way to deepen poses is to work on the mindfulness, the breathing, the transition and holding of poses…in other words, practice!  The entire point of the exercise is not to be perfect out of the box.

Then I started thinking about other aspects of my life where I’m struggling to solve issues or just don’t know how to fix something….and it hits me:  everything in life should be seen as a practice.  Just like yoga.  People aren’t born naturally knowing how to cook, how to write, how to do their jobs, even doing their heair….the ability comes with putting the time and energy into it, making mistakes, and learning from those mistakes.  Even establishing good habits comes with practice, not discipline.

The practice of yoga.  The practice of cooking.  The practice of life.

This year, I want to focus on treating my life as a daily practice, rather than expecting perfection.  I need to be less hard on myself when I’m less than perfect or make a mistake, seeing that instead as part of the process of learning and growing.

That perspective completely changes my resolution-making.  Instead of having specific goals, I just want to practice the things that will make my life happier and better.  Yoga, and it’s meditative/mindfulness powers, is one.  Cooking, journaling, blogging, and running are all things that will help clear my mind from the daily stresses of life.  And hopefully, by the end of the year, I hope that I’m better at all these things, as well as others, by practicing.

Quest, Derailed

Yes, it’s been a year.

When I started this quest, I had planned to work on my blog every Sunday, then I met a cute guy and then we started doing Sunday Funday and then it was harder and harder to find time to do the blogs and….

But I was still running.  I was still improving, still moving towards the goal of the six marathons.  The blog was just to keep me accountable, and since I was progressing, there was no need to dedicate serious time for the blog, a good thing because it seemed that I didn’t have a lot of time and energy for it.

I was helping a friend (and working on my time) by helping a friend train for a marathon.  I worked out with the Libertyville Running Club and ended up running a 7:35 mile at the final time trial.  I entered both the Toyko and London marathon lotteries (but didn’t get in) and helped out on my charity team’s committee, hoping I can get a charity bib into New York.  The quest was progressing forward, and I didn’t need to be held accountable.

At the same time, there were subtle dynamics going on around me that I couldn’t ignore.  While everyone was super-nice with the run club, it did feel like a closer circle was forming, and typical of my life, I didn’t know what I did or didn’t do to be excluded from this circle.  I couldn’t be that upset, since 1.  I couldn’t afford to keep up with them because I have to save money for the marathons 2. My life was full and busy without them and 3. I was too shy to put any effort into connections.  However, the change in the energy affected my enthusiasm for the club. 

Then we had a little election.  For 99% of the country, they are armchair politicos, watching on news and posting on social media, but really have not invested any effort to impact the outcome.  However, my boyfriend and I work in the political field, so our lives can be dramatically affected by the vote.  In a Presidential year, it’s especially nerve wracking because so many voters chose their President and vote downticket that our lives are impacted by people who don’t even know what they are doing.

This election was contentious and emotional and angry, and in the end, the national election was the complete opposite of our local results.  While you can’t make politics personal—we are professionals, after all—there is a letdown, almost a grieving process, after an election.  Usually, most people go back their jobs, their lives, just as they are, pre-election, except for that 1%, like my boyfriend and I, whose lives were dramatically changed by the results.

This year, however, was different.  Many people were upset about the election results, including many in the run club.  Not only did I represent the other side, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many helped to turn my life upside down because they didn't see below the top of the ticket.  I was already feeling a little out of place before this happened, but now I felt isolated and unwelcome, to the point that I questioned why we were even doing this quest.

It was an extremely generous gift to have found my friend Christy, then.  She saw me through all this difficulty, running mile after mile and understanding my feelings.  And at my lowest point, she gave me a very special gift—a birthday marathon in New Orleans, LA.  It brought me back to running—and eventually, back to my run club.  However, my life is still very much in flux, to the point that I can’t make major financial decisions.  Consider it a setback in my quest.  We’ll be up and running and fighting again, but for now, it’s all about qualifying for Boston and writing blog posts, because that’s all I can afford to do.

Wait, wasn’t this blog supposed to keep me accountable? (Year 2 of the Quest)

A few months ago, the leader of our run club asked if anyone had a blog because he wants to publicize them on the club website.

I started this blog to keep me accountable on my goal—six major marathons in ten years—but life has a funny way about happening while you try to make plans.  When I started this blog, my personal paradigm was that life in my forties was going to be about work and running and my cat.  The guy I had a crush on probably didn’t know I was alive, anyway….

Well, he found me.  The day before my birthday he asked me to lunch, and about a month later, I accepted.  At that lunch, he asked me to a concert, and to my surprise, actually followed through.  It was probably the most nerve-wracking first date of my life, but by summer, we had dedicated Sunday—the day I was supposed to write my blog post—as our day to be together.  Of course, when you have an amazing man, why on earth would you say, “um, no, I have to write a blog post” when he wants to spend the day with you?

So my day dedicated for blogging was filled with adventures.  Concerts and ice skating, botanic gardens and even running, days filled with fun and love.  One of the things that we have in common is college cross country, so he started running with my run club, as well as with me. 

Summer changed into fall, and he decided that he would join me in Las Vegas, running his first half marathon.  More of my time was being spent training for Chicago, but he was racking up the miles, too, preparing for Vegas.  He was my biggest cheerleader in Chicago, and after finishing a tough race, patiently waited for me to finish Vegas.

As I entered Year 2 of this journey, it was clear that I just purely didn’t have time to keep up with a weekly blog.  However, I have been running.  A lot.  With an unpredictable work schedule, I decided to save my race money for my three international marathons and train like crazy to get closer to BQ pace.  Meaning, my goal is in mileage—2016, to be exact—rather than in races.

Trying to stay on pace of this goal in winter was tough.  The cold, the dark, my work schedule, time with the boyfriend, even keeping running clothes clean were all challenges.  Even with having running friends and a great club, I have fallen behind pace quite a bit.  The blog, behind even more.

I had to step back and consider why I am writing the blog in the first place.  The goal is to hold me accountable towards my quest.  Well, I signed up for the London lottery last week.  I also started to put together the framework for being a charity runner at the NYC marathon next year.  I’m slowly knocking seconds off my runs, inching closer to Boston qualification, and really utilizing the power of positive thinking (from myself and my running club) to believe it is possible.  I even shocked myself and did a 7:55 mile last week, only 49 seconds slower than my high school PR, set when I was 15.

However, I’m still lagging a bit behind pace to do 2016 miles in 2016.  Quite a bit.  (Did you see the last post?  I’m stuck in April!)  The cold temperatures and the short days made it difficult to get out the door and run.  The days have gotten longer and the weather warmer, so I’m thinking it’s time to get streaky…

Um, not this streak...

Until I catch up a bit on the mileage, I’m going to try to grab some miles every day.  It’s a challenge because I’m 41, and rest is very important to prevent injury, so walks are included in this mileage grab, even walks that are a normal part of my life.  I also have to remember (again!) that I’m on a quest, and that the journey is significantly more important than any destination—or any goal.

It’s time to get faster, crush some serious mileage, and streak!!!  Ethel, cover your eyes!