Sunday, May 31, 2020

An Observation about Minnesota

If a global pandemic wasn’t enough for us to handle, four Minneapolis police officers believed that there was nothing wrong with holding George Floyd down by putting a knee to his neck.  Why they thought they could treat an innocent black man worse than their own pets, I have no idea. 

Everyone is outraged.  The left, the right, the quiet, the loud.  I don’t talk about the problems of race in this country, mainly to help amplify the truths that need to be heard, but when it comes to the Twin Cities, here is my truth:  I wasn’t surprised.

Back in the mid-2000s, I was commuting to the Twin Cities for consulting work.  It was the first time in my adult life where I had spent significant time outside of my native Chicagoland, ending up going back and forth for two and a half years.

At the time I was figure skating.  The way practicing on the ice works is that rinks have scheduled times for figure skating, and you pay for the time you use.  In Chicago, you pay the rink directly, whether it’s a private facility or part of a public park district.

I started researching nearby rinks and ice times, discovering that at most rinks, you have to be a member of the local skating club in order to skate on their ice.  Apparently, the rink would sell the ice to the club, thereby guaranteeing a certain revenue, no matter how crowded or empty the ice would be.  I had just started an ice dance partnership with a man who lived in Minneapolis, and his club purchased ice from a small private college.  While I was already a full member of my Chicago skating club, I paid dues for an associate membership with his club so we could practice together.

However, it always bugged me that the system was the same for the public, park district rinks.  People pay property taxes for these facilities, so it seemed rather unfair to ask residents to pay an additional fee to a separate organization just to skate.  I spoke with my wallet, avoiding those rinks.

It became clear to me after a while that the entire system created an insular, clique environment.  While my home club had over 300 members spread across the northern Chicago metro area, each rink had a smaller club, some under 100 members.  My rink really just had open ice times where you could practice whatever, but some of these clubs had pages of rules.  One even wrote their bylaws to exclude certain skating levels to ensure their ice would be filled with the “right” skaters. 

As the months went by, I realized it wasn’t just the ice rinks that had this culture.  Ever hear of “Minnesota Nice?”  It’s when people are nice to your face, but because you’re not part of the culture, you’re not wanted.  There was even all this drama when a group of Somali refugees who worked as taxi drivers didn’t want to transport alcohol in their taxis because they were practicing Muslims.  Outside of my circle of friends and colleagues, I felt very much on the outside.

My partner lived in a suburb with a park district rink, and one Saturday morning when we couldn’t skate at our usual ice, we decided to go to his rink’s morning session.  Knowing that there was a club managing the ice, I reached out to a friend on the club board, to make sure we could do our ice dances on that session.  I got the okay, and we planned to skate as guests for one time.

The ice was pretty empty.  There was a young girl working on pre-juv moves and the two of us.  We paid to use the ice, told the monitor that we were working towards Adult Nationals in pre-bronze dance, and got on the ice.

Pre-Bronze dance is four of the first six compulsory dances.  Except for one, they are mostly forward facing and fairly easy to do while avoiding other skaters.  About 20 min in, a woman stood at the door, waving at us to come over, phone in her ear.

“I am calling the board president right now.  You cannot be on this ice,” she said.

“Why not?” I asked, “I read through the bylaws and reached out to a board member to double check.  We’re competing at Adult Nationals this year, and our normal rink is closed.”

As soon as I dropped the name of the board member, her tenor changed.  She turned away to chat on the phone to the president while I fumed, furious that my expensive ice time was being eaten away by this woman.  I mean, my partner paid taxes to upkeep this facility, so he has a legal right to skate there.  Finally, she turned back.  “The president says you’re okay,” she snapped, turning around and going back up to the bleachers.

No apology.  No kindness.  It reeked of xenophobia, that outsiders were not welcome, even residents who pay taxes to support the facility.

After we were done, I got in the car, fuming.  I thought about how we, two white, educated professionals were treated and wondered how that woman would have treated us if we were people of color.   While I considered complaining at a park district board meeting or to US Figure Skating, it just seemed like nothing would change, and I would be the outsider who didn’t understand the way things worked.  Even if the way things worked was wrong.

While I will speak my truth, I will also read and listen to yours.  Speak your truth.


Sunday, April 5, 2020

Welcome to my World


Who had “global pandemic” on their predictions for 2020? 

*crickets*

Yeah, me, too.  As I followed the pandemic from Wuhan, China to my home turf, it has been the world of science fiction authors and dystopian fatalists.  The entire world captured by a tiny ball of protein.  People afraid to leave their homes without face masks and gloves.  Hand sanitizer flying off the shelves.  Radio shows discussing how to decontaminate their groceries and themselves.

Surreal, right?  Well for me, it’s just Tuesday.  Or Wednesday.  Or every day.

My life revolves around elaborate decontamination rituals, making sure that I do not get infected by the bug du jour.  Washing my hands to the point of cracked skin is an every day routine, as are multiple showers a day and constant laundry.  Touch is something I often fear, as it might contaminate me with dirt and germs, to the point where an innocent brush of a door handle or a coffee cup has me rushing to the bathroom to wash my hands.  Sound familiar?

The difference is that I have a diagnosis—obsessive-compulsive disorder—that generates my fear and anxiety.  In “normal” times, I’m considered an outlier, having an unrealistic worldview, unable to sit still until every germ and bug is vanquished, a “germophobe.”  It’s a world where half my energy every day goes to washing and decontaminating and figuring out how to keep people outside my personal bubble, all in an effort to “keep calm and carry on” with a normal life. 

Then a novel coronavirus jumps from a bat to a human, and we’re wearing gloves and sanitizing door handles and wiping down our groceries before we put them in the car.  We’re discussing if uv light can decontaminate, if our mail could make us sick.  Stickers and tape dot the floors at the stores that are open, reminding us to stay six feet apart, as public service announcements blare over the loudspeakers, reminding us to wash our hands.

The fear and anxiety is real.  Something that we cannot see, hear, taste, smell, nor touch has killed more people in New York City than on 9/11.  People are dying by the thousands in Europe every day.  Hospitals fill with patients, unable to breathe.  Others raging with fevers and cough in their homes.  Even after 100 years of scientific discovery and Kuhnian paradigm shifts, the human race is once again brought to their knees by a tiny little virus.

I was asked recently how the pandemic affected me, and I replied that my life hadn’t changed all that much because I was already doing the handwashing and the decontamination and the distancing and the sanitizing.  The difference, actually, was that everyone else was doing it, too.  It’s like everyone is looking at the world through my eyes and acting accordingly, stressed and scared about something that is hard to show really exists.

In this dystopian society, I have found utopia.

Except that I’m out of disinfecting wipes and hand sanitizer.

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Welcoming in the Roaring 20s (and Mine Will Roar)


It’s been a year.  Well, it’s been a decade.  It’s hard to believe that when 2010 started, I was so looking forward to a precisely planned, perfect future.  That January, I attended a primary candidate forum….and everything changed.  It’s been a difficult journey, one that is hard to regret taking, but I’m still here, looking at 2020, and trying to figure out a new future.

Planning, planning, planning...for a fabulous future.

We’ve all had that moment when the rug was pulled out from under us.  For me, it was Labor Day, 2011, when the man I wanted to marry….told me our relationship was over.  It broke me, but looking back on it now, it led me to so much more.  The resulting depression led me to a therapist, which led me to understanding why my brain was wired the way it was, which led me to realize that how I was living my life wasn’t in synch with my brain wiring.

However, there was an even bigger revelation.  My mother, trying to maintain order in her own head, emotionally abused me.  It’s interesting, really, how a child sees their reality as “normal,” until they hit a point where they see there are other realities.  For me, it was working with a therapist who pointed out the times my mother, with her endless controlling behavior, crossed the line from being helpful to hurtful.  And hurtful she was.  Not only did I believe that her depiction of me was true, it had made me passive and controllable, which literally ate me up inside.  It’s her words, not mine, that I’ve said to myself in the mirror all these years. 

Due to both nature and nurture, my brain processes things differently than most people, but I’ve spent the last 45 years trying to fit my brain into a “normal” mold.  It hasn’t worked well, leaving me exhausted, frustrated, and feeling like a failure.  Now that I understand all of this, I can spend the 20s creating a life that fits me and my brain, then helping others do the same.  It seems so counter-intuitive that a country whose founding principles are all about accepting and tolerating differences…has so many people suffering from anxiety and depression because they feel too different.  Perhaps I can do something about that, but I can’t from where I am now.

I see where I want to be by 2029, but I am starting at the bottom of the mountain.  This year, my goal is to build a solid foundation from which I can tackle harder things.  It means creating financial security and stability.  It means retooling my house to be a place of relaxation and comfort.  It means cleaning out all the survival anxieties that cloud my decisions and sap my energy.  It means missing the run club’s annual run to Lake Michigan to instead hustle for income.  It means walking away from all the things I do to escape from the challenges and instead face them head-on.  It means working hard towards my goals, even when it’s not easy.

2020 is probably going to be my most challenging year, but I have all the support and resources I need to come out of it successful.  It’s time to make my 20s roar.

Friday, December 20, 2019

Mile by Mile: Life Lessons Learned Through Marathon Running


On Thanksgiving morning, I participated in my run club’s Tofurky Trot.  That’s right, Tofurky.  Last year, there was a discussion on the various area turkey trots (you know, those Thanksgiving morning community road races), and one of the vegans in the group joked that she had a Tofurky run at her house.  In typical Libertyville Running Club tradition, it happened.  Twice:




Anyway, I was running (well, trotting because we were chatting too much to consider ourselves racing) with two friends.  I’m working on growing my chemistry tutoring business, and the question of how that was going…..lead to AP exams and college choices and life in general and how we can apply our perspective about running to life. 

★☆★☆★

When you run a major marathon, you have to focus on your race.  The only thing that matters is when the chip on your shoe or race bib hits the mats, so worrying about how fast the people around you are going is anethma.  They might be pacing for a faster race.  You might see them in five miles, hitting a wall because they went out too fast.  They might have shown up late and ended up starting in the back instead of the super-speedy corral they were assigned.  You might have passed them earlier in the race because they stopped to use a porta potty.  Basically, you have no clue what their chip and pacing is saying, so there is no point in comparing yourself to them.

That’s true in life.  We spend so much of high school and college worrying about gpa and test scores and class rank, comparing ourselves to our peers.  My dentist had a son in my high school class, and when I would go for a cleaning, I would always be with the dental hygienist who also had a son in my class.  Both parents were very interested in my class rank, my ACT, what colleges I was interested in attending, and so on.  Their sons were great guys, but I’m a member of Mensa genius who was so smart as a 3 year old that I started kindergarten a year early *and* was in the gifted program *and* by high school, so ambitious about college that I fought for every extra credit point and A+.  I felt pressure, but it was so awkward to be in the dentist’s chair, having to point out that I’m a better student than their sons.  Especially when both of them had a lot of gifts that have made them successful today.  Just not being in the top 1% of their high school graduating class. 

With those comparisons, we stop running our life, our “race,” and try to keep up with everyone else.  However, when you ask someone 20 years later, they often regret the decisions that were influenced by external pressures, whether they be academic or romantic or financial.  Be you.  Run your own race.  Do your thing the way you need to do it.

That 2015 Chicago was looong!

Unless you are Eliud Kipchoge, a marathon is long.  Three hours is considered a “fast” time, and some people will be out there for seven or eight hours.  A lot can happen in an hour, never mind eight, and one of the mantras in marathon running is “just put one foot ahead of the other.”  I definitely had to say that to myself throughout both Chicago and New York this year, as I didn’t know how long my body would last. 

When I came home, I realized I would have to apply that mantra to life.  I had quit my job.  I had broken up with my boyfriend of four years.  My house was a cacophony of stuff my ex had accumulated, stressing me to the point where my brain couldn’t figure out how to do things like make dinner or brush my teeth without an anxiety attack.  The focus on the trip and the marathon had taken some of the pressure off these things, but now I had to face reality.  A giant, scary, overwhelming reality.

Instead of being caught up in the place I found myself, I just needed to put one foot ahead of the other.  I had to figure out what was stressing me out the most, what the smallest step I could take to alleviate that stress, and then accomplishing that step.  Lather, rinse, repeat.  It has been all about finding success in forward progress, no matter how small, and cherishing the stress relief associated with it. 

We get so caught up in not being “there” yet that instead of focusing on that next little step, we stop and quit.  Just keep moving forward.  Keep learning, growing, progressing, trying.  You are getting closer.

★☆★☆★

In the course of a race that lasts hours, even for the fastest in the world, a lot can happen.  The weather is often unpredictable and inconsistent.  The meal you ate the night before suddenly doesn’t agree with you.  The start is earlier or later than your normal training times, so you have to modify your nutrition plan.  You have to be able to roll with the punches and adjust, rather than pining over what didn’t go right.  That was my New York experience in a nutshell, having to make decisions and game plans on the fly as my body wasn’t reacting as I expected. 

There are days when you get up early and make a perfect bullet journal page….just to have something happen that causes it to fly out the window.  For me, that’s like setting up an ornate domino show, and having something knock the whole thing down before you get a chance finish the design.  I’m back to square one and the first domino.  I really have to stop, breathe, regroup, and figure out how to go forward now that the plan is gone. 

Life constantly doesn’t go as planned, and most of the time, we don’t get to start over again.  We get stuck at that point, not knowing how to get back on track to a rigid set of ideas and rules of what we want, rather than looking at where we are and retooling.  Be adaptable to changes, especially changes that are outside of your control.    

★☆★☆★

Running a marathon is an all-day, if not all-weekend event.  You have spent months thinking about this weekend, planning this weekend, purchasing items (and often travel) for this weekend, so it makes sense that there’s also a sense of anxiety that something won’t go as planned.  Even the most veteran marathon runners feel those nerves, and back in 2015, I let those nerves get the better of me in Chicago.  My head started to control my body, and my body started to shut down.  I did set an 8 min PR, but it would be three years until I would have the experience to quiet the nerves and crush Chicago.

There are plenty of people who let their nerves get in the way of success.  The college student so afraid of public speaking that they cannot give the presentation required for their degree.  The job seeker so afraid a job won’t be perfect enough that their non verbal behavior blows an interview.  The person who walks away instead of having a difficult conversation.  The woman at the bar who notices an attractive man, but is too nervous of making a fool of herself to approach him and say hello.    
We often think that our anxieties and nerves are a weakness to suppress, wallowing in self-pity over our failures.  Accept those nerves as part of being human.  Learn how to overcome them. 

Wait, there's something new here!

Another mantra of marathon running is “don’t change anything on race day.”  The idea is that if you figured out what worked in training, race day is not the time to try something new.  While yes, a major change on race day can cause a lot of problems, great runners are willing to take those risks in hopes of going beyond what they think they can do.  In New York, I tried compression socks for the first time on race day, and it probably was the smartest thing I could have done.  I also try to keep my nutrition plan flexible, risking that whatever is on course might not agree with me, over becoming overly dependent on a specific product schedule.

It’s the perfect metaphor for life.  Many people get stuck in this plan of how life should be that they fear the risks they could take to achieve greater goals.  We stay in jobs we don’t love, with people we don’t love, doing things we don’t love because it’s safe.  It’s easy.  It’s predictable.  We create a bubble around us where nothing is difficult or challenging or scary, to the point where they cannot tolerate anything that changes their universe.

However, that rigid adherence to what is planned and familiar keeps us from growing and improving, which comes from taking risks and failing.  The runners who are so quick to tell me they have every detail about their marathon planned are often the ones who struggle improving their time.  And in life, the people who stay in their comfortable bubble often ruminate about how they wish their lives were different, even as I see them actively reject anything unfamiliar.  Break your bubble.  Try new things.  Meet new people.  Challenge yourself.  Fail.  Learn from failure.  Grow. 

★☆★☆★

Finally, it’s not about one race.  Your first marathon is usually the most exciting.  Everything is new and different and adventurous.  Your time will be your personal best, since it is your first.  The process naturally gets you in shape, and you see your speed and endurance improve.  Your confidence builds, and you become ready to tackle greater things in your life.  (Did you see Brittany Runs a Marathon?)  Life is good!

That initial improvement comes from starting with nothing.  Eventually, you’ll plateau, have a setback, or fight injury.  Running isn’t fun.  You’re slower.  It hurts.  Your friends on Strava seem to be flying past you in their own quests to run PRs.  Many runners hit this point and quit, but the ones who figure out the challenge, make the changes, and reboot can go further and faster.
My largest challenge is my head.  I used to feel so slow that I would be bored to tears during training, and that would translate to going out too fast at the start of the race, to fight that boredom.  By mile 15, I was spent, walking, and even more slow and bored as the race could not go fast enough.  I decided to take a couple years off of racing marathons, but continuing with the training.  Slowly, I improved to the point where those 22 mile training runs seemed easy—and suddenly, so did my marathons.  I’ve gone from a consistent 5:30 finisher to a consistent 5 hour finisher, breaking 5 hours twice.  It took years, four years, of slow progress, setbacks, and challenges to get to this place.

I’m in the same spot in my life.  I know where I’m going, but it doesn’t seem to be moving fast enough to get there.  I feel like I’m plodding along, keeping my head afloat, and every ounce of forward momentum turns to a setback.  I know I’m being challenged, and I need to keep retooling and practicing and failing and learning and growing.  I need to accept that this process could take years, or even a decade, so I need to celebrate every step forward and overcome every setback.  Just like I believe I’m capable of being a faster marathoner, I am capable of living the life of my dreams.
We get so focused on success that we get demoralized and derailed by the first glimmer of imperfection, that first challenge or obstacle.  However, it’s the failure that causes improvement.  Don’t allow setbacks to hold you back.  Identify the roadblocks on your path and figure out how to overcome them.

Breakthrough, and first sub-5!

So runners, what say you?  What life lessons have you learned from running marathons, 5k’s or ultras?  What do you want to pass along to others?

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Gratitude for Thanksgiving Day


Inspired by a Facebook post of a friend who lost her husband of 38 years, here is what I am grateful for this Thanksgiving holiday: 
  • The right diagnosis for why my brain works the way it does, so I can figure out how to make my life work for me, rather than struggle trying to make me work to have a normal life.
  • Strength to walk away from toxic relationships in my life, even when it was safer to stay.
  • Passion for marathon running and writing, healthy addictions to deal with the challenges life throws my way.
  • Friends who have reached out, supported me, and became my family, even as life got crazier and crazier. 
  • Life lessons that were earned from the difficult times, as well as the personal growth that came from them.
  • Discovering a voice that has been silent way too long, and the confidence to make it heard.
  • Peace in my soul that I am exactly where I am supposed to be, replacing the empty longing that comes from fantasies.
  • Hope that fuels the pursuit of my dreams, and dreams that are worth pursuing.
  • Looking in a mirror and loving the woman I see in it.
In the face of so much wrong and bad and difficult and challenging in our worlds, we still can find so many things that are good.  Stop and think about your life.  What is on your gratitude list this year?