Every so often, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. Ok, well actually if the truth be told, I seem to always find myself in strange situations. But that is a completely different conversation. It goes sort of like this: I am riding along, just cruising. My tunes are blasting in my ears, my head is bee-bopping side to side. I am, inevitably, belting out some song at the top of my lungs. Life is good and I am carelessly blissful. And then, in an instant, the road is gone and I am wide-eyed with hands on the brakes and the tires squealing...... My heart races, the adrenaline pumps full steam ahead, all my muscles tense, and I am so wound up that the ensuing crash is almost a blissful finale.

Sprawled out, twisted, battered and bruised, spread eagle on the ground. I can't help but to laugh at myself. Hmmm. This view is familiar! I have seen it before!! I have powered forward at full speed so quickly, almost desperately even, focused so fully on the horizon that I didn't even see the gigantic river RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! This isn't the first crash and I can say with full confidence that it will not be the last. It is in my bones, my very nature. Like a 3 yr old running hog wild through the house in an attempt to stay awake, I run at full tilt trying to do anything to avoid quiet and silence. Anything to stay out of my head. I hate that place. Stillness makes my mind suffocate and scream for help. The thoughts and doubts (yes, I have them too) are my dementors and it is so much easier to outrun them than to face them.

And that brings me to January 2010. This will be one of my hardest monthly challenges and I find it fitting to do it from the start. Last night at midnight, I didn't tumble out of 2009 and claw my way to 2010. Nope. Last night, I hoisted my bike on my shoulder and with complete confidence and poise, and not too much fanfare, crossed the narrow bridge into the new year. This month, I face the stillness that I hate so much. It's yoga month. Three times a week, I will shut out the world, turn off the technology, and savor (or hate) an hour that is fully mine. God, help me. I am deathly afraid of the hours to come. I am afraid to commit to these hours that will infringe on my running, my biking, my incessant workload. I am afraid of the shadows looming inside that will only grow bigger and scarier in the stillness. And I am scared sh*tless of a weekend spent in a Yoga Ashram with people so calm and centered (and a bit kooky :P) that I feel my energy will drown everyone there. Just my presence will turn the place on end; I will create enemies just by being there! Unless I can FINALLY learn to control it. I'm not so sure I can but I am going to try. I have no doubt there will be tears, that meditation will be a cacophony of evil voices. I will have to hear them out. I will have to agree with some of them and learn to ignore the others.

My hope is that I can learn to embrace the calmness. That I can find a peaceful blackness inside my head, rather than the cave-like place that is there now. The cave with all the bright eyes glowing from every direction refusing to declare themselves friend or foe. *shudder* My friend of nearly a decade, Kristen, said to me "For as long as I have known you Becca, there has never once been a day when I asked what you were doing next and you said 'nothing.' It's always a list of things that no human could accomplish in a day."

So, here we go. I hope you'll come with me. Pick up your bike and cross the bridge with me. Find some balance this month and learn to enjoy stillness.

This is gonna suck....

Sweat beads of Blackness....

In a normal day in my life, it is not unusual for me to go from one activity to another. I might meet a client or group to run and then head straight over to work in the studio with someone recovering from injury or someone on the pilates reformer. The other day was no exception, but as I was driving back to the studio I noticed that my clothes stunk. Not just a little un-fresh, either. Full on stinkage! I tried every trick in the book—baby wipes, smelly lotion, wiping down using the sink in the bathroom—all to no avail. I apologized to my client who politely said she didn’t smell me. Of course, she then suggested I try soaking my clothes in a bucket of double strength Oxi-clean until I was ready to wash them. BRILLIANT! Why didn’t I think of that? So, I bought some Oxi-clean and set about filling an industrial size mop bucket with water and cleaner and in went the workout clothes. This was GREAT! How exciting to have fresh-as-new clothes again! I felt like a kid getting ready for the 4th grade science fair…. Ah, the memories….plants and bugs and Jell-o and ….. but, I digress...

Knowing the stench contained within my poor, overused workout attire, I settled on 24 hours of soakage before extracting the clothes and washing them. Such a long 24 hours, too…. I could barely contain myself (embarrassingly). It was like getting a whole new wardrobe again, all clean and stink-free.

This is a testament to the mundane-ness of my life, I suppose…. Or to my inner nerd.

So, I put on my lab coat and goggles—ok that is a bit of an exaggeration…. But, I went out to the garage and began removing the clothes from the bucket and I was completely taken aback. I expected the water to be dingy, I really did. But, the water was BLACK, not tan or muddy or cloudy. It was Black, so black you could not even see the bottom of the bright yellow bucket. Disgusting. Truly and really, that is just gross. And embarrassing. And eye-opening. How could that much filth be contained in something that looked perfectly clean and bright and completely UN-filthy??

Most of the time when I run, I allow my mind to ponder things, to think deeply and to access the emotions and fears and thoughts that dwell deep inside of me. It is normal for me to talk to God as I travel through the early morning darkness. It is when I am the most honest, when I speak most freely, and expose myself. The wee hours of the morning allow me to admit to the places in life I come up short, to realize just how little I really know about life and marriage and all the things a person might wrestle with as they travel their worldly journey. Running takes all the uglies inside of me, brings them to the top and allows them to crack through the surface. Sometimes, I cry for things lost and days past. Other times, the rage within me can only be quelled by a workout so intense it would be frightening to witness. But mostly, I find joy out on the road. I clear my heart and I clear my mind and I make a little more peace with my place in the world and a mission too big to accomplish alone.

Maybe therein lies the answer to the black water. Maybe each drop of sweat carries a little of the blackness and darkness from inside my heart to the outside and each breath of the fresh morning air replaces it with lightness and joy……. Who knows? What I do know is that no matter how good or bad life is at any moment, I have a constant. Every morning I can get up and lace up my shoes. Sophie will always meet me at the door and God is always waiting to talk knowing I will discover another piece of the puzzle in the miles ahead. And when I return all sweaty and tired, my clothes will contain the filth. They won’t look dirty, but every stitch will be full of the worry and fret I left behind. And me? My heart will be full of the joy and possibility of a new day, a new challenge, a new mountain to conquer.

My name is Becca and I have an addiction.

I think the hardest part of being an athlete is resting.

No, seriously.

Do you think I am kidding?!?!

The hardest part of this whole game is taking a little time off and letting the body recover. I know that my Couch 2 5K people might read that and think I am completely out of my mind, but it is absolutely true. Not in the beginning maybe, but over time it becomes a defining part of your day. You would never wake up and go about your day without brushing your teeth and putting on deodorant. It just wouldn't feel right. It is very hard for me to go a day without a workout.

Not every addiction requires treatment.

I know because I run!

Perhaps I am lucky that my drug of choice is running . Without a runner's high, the day drags and I feel crappy about myself and my body. My energy is not so high and I can be downright crabby. It's true, I promise..... ask my husband. A good run sets the whole day in motion. I mean, I accomplished a great task before the sun ever even hits the sky. I feel smart and vibrant and successful and, well, like WonderWoman pretty much. It's awesome!

Except, when it isn't. Except when the runs are going slower and the legs feel heavy and it's a chore, and maybe even it starts to hurt a bit. And that's when you know, you took it for granted. The gift of running. It's a hard balance. The balance between constant improvement and going further and faster and taking a day here and there to repair the body and enjoy just being still. It's hard when people compare mileage and times and goals to remember that those things are very individual and no two people can do the same thing.... nor should they. Sometimes, I think that's the hardest part of running but it's also one of the many life lessons that running has given me.

My schedule, my path, is mine. No one else owns the same destiny as me and no timetable is as perfect for me as the one I am on. What I view as successful may only be mediocre to someone else and as great as it is to work hard and have results, you have to slow down and be still or it all passes by before you even know it.

I tell my runners that it doesn't matter how hard you train if you hurt too bad to stand at the starting line. And I think that's todays lesson for me. It doesn't matter how much I pack my schedule and accomplish if I didn't enjoy it while it was happening.

Darn. This balanced life thing is so hard!