The 26.2 Healing Journey: Race Day

We huddled as night turned to day, each of us ready for our own unique journey.

I knew in the early miles that the marathon would give me more life lessons. My healing journey had gotten me to here, but the run itself was going to continue the teaching.

So, I listened. And here is what I learned.

Replace Win vs. Lose with Winning Your Own Race

The wonderful thing about running races is that everyone wins. Of the hundreds of us lining up for the marathon, each person toes the line with a chance to beat their own expectations, limitations and self-doubt. We all run with a chance to overcome - addiction, depression, and anything else we may be struggling with. Each person is engaged in a competition to see what incredible new things they will accomplish today. In this sense, the race clock and one’s place in the race fade into the background, formalities to record the event. This week, when life tempts you into a “win vs. lose” mentality, you can choose instead to focus on winning your own race.

Patience and Rest = Work

The first half of a marathon is a very unique place. Most of my mental energy over the first miles was focused not on speeding up, but on slowing down. You run this part of the race in a way that seems uncomfortably slow so that your body is able to run the entire distance. The first 13 miles remind that in a world that asks us to “go hard, all the time” that there are times where the best thing we can do is to hold back and become patient. There will be moments, as there were in my own head during the race’s opening miles, where you dismiss yourself and your effort, as we have been trained to see rest and patience as un-important and even as a failure. In actuality, finding time for rest may be the most important work we do this week.

 The beauty of leaving our comfort zone

Despite my months of hard and despite my meticulous attention to nutrition and hydration on race day, my body and mind started to fatigue with eight miles to go in the marathon. From a competitive running perspective, this is where the race unraveled. My mile splits slowed considerably. My dreams of finishing fast vanished. From a life perspective, however, this is where the most important lessons were being taught. Life took me from my comfort zone and reminded me that I was not in control. Embrace those moments of struggle this week. They are a gift, a place where you can see what cannot be seen when we are in our comfort zone.

The most important part of healing is not crossing the finish line, but rather, crossing the starting line

At 3^rd and Tijeras, we all gazed at the road ahead of us.

The horn sounded and the race began. Over the next sixty seconds, hundreds of feet crossed from one side of the starting line where you could still turn back, to the other side of the starting line where we committed to the journey.

By crossing the starting line, each of us was finishing a journey that took us through doubt, injury and other hurdles unique to each person.

The journey

to my healing

to your healing

to our healing

both starts and finishes

when we cross the starting line

 

Celebrating with friends and family at the finish!

The 26.2 Healing Journey

From hurt to healing to healed.

From a muscle tear to tearing up the miles once again.

My 6-month journey from a calf tear to today has been a “beautiful struggle”.

I am going to line up this Sunday to run 26.2 miles at the Duke City Marathon, feeling fit and healthy. Ironically, even though this marathon has been centered on coming back from injury, I am the healthiest I have ever been going into race day at this distance. (Marathoners and distance runners have very accurately been called “the healthiest group of injured people in the world”)

Had a patient of mine said, “Doc, what do you think about me coming off the injured list to run a marathon?” I surely would have done all I could to knock some sense into them. Maybe a psychiatry referral as well.

But, luckily, I have not been to the doctor in these last months.

As I ran in the liminal space between day and night this morning, I reflected on the larger life lessons these last months have given me. I will share a few of those here with you. I trust that they can support your healing journey.

Lesson #1 – Activating your healing journey is the hardest step

After months of limping around, I began to try short runs at very slow pace. It was hard on many levels. The calf still gave me pain that made me question if I was really ready to run again. The runs on a body that was out of shape were a mix of humbling and humiliating. When we are hurt, we have become stagnant because of that injury. Moving toward wellness begins with those first slow and timid steps.

Lesson #1A – The most important part of healing is not crossing the finish line, but rather, crossing the starting line

When I look at the last 18 weeks of running, it was crossing the starting line (e.g. starting to run again) that was the critical moment. In doing so, I was proclaiming to life and myself that I believed in my healing. Before that moment, I was holding onto my injured status. And beyond that, well, everything flows once we believe in our healing.

Lesson #2 – Learn to ignore the things that do not matter

As a runner, you can fill your mind with lots of numbers and metrics for your training. Pace per mile. Miles per week. Coming back from injury made me slightly better at seeing the bigger picture (“Wow, I am running again. Grateful to be out here!”) and better at ignoring meaningful stuff that does not matter (“Darn, that last interval was 3 seconds too slow”)

Lesson #3 – Put yourself around healing energy

It was a silly thought. I was very early in my training, but showed up in the foothills where some elite runners were doing a hill workout. I knew that I was not going to run with them, but a voice inside me said “Just go”. I think it the voice of wisdom, telling me that I needed to get around people who would remind me of where I was headed, helping me to forget where I had been. I continued to seek people who could help me heal in these last months – from physical therapy to Running Medicine friends to Solomon, Keenan, Chris and others. Injury isolates us. Healing requires us to connect back with those around us.

Lesson #4 – Shout your vision to the world (even if it comes out as a whisper)

It was a family vacation in July when I first uttered the words, “I might even run a marathon this fall.” I remember saying it in a whisper, not believing yet that this was more than a laughable hallucination. There is power in our words, and even more power when we share with others what our vision for healing looks like. What are you ready to shout out to the world?

 

 

My friends and relatives, brothers and sisters,

I embrace this healing journey with joy and gratitude. Thank you for listening and may it allow you, in some way, to move from hurt to healing to healed.

I will run for all of you.

I will run for all who cannot run.

I will run for healing.

Solomon and me, on a last tempo run along the race course. He pretended to breathe hard on the run, which was quite slow for his pace.

Balloon Week

 

Balloon week has brought near-perfect weather to Burque.

It is a week that invites us all to be a child again.

It is a chance to appreciate this place we call home.

Stressed? Angry?

Try this – go outside to get a glimpse of one or hundreds of hot air balloons. Let go and let the balloons take you to a better place.

Or even better, try chasing one to see if you can follow it to its place of landing.

 ~~~

Balloon week is special in our house as my parents often come from Baltimore to enjoy time with us. They take a balloon that says “Southwest Airlines” on its side, one that actually has steering on board. 

The week with them is always a full one.

 A meal or two at Frontier. Time in the Bosque, biking and hiking. 

And lots of balloon mornings and an occasional balloon glow evening.

The balloons become the backdrop for lots of quality family time and a chance to slow down.

Mom and dad, thank you for being our best part of balloon week!

A morning with mom and dad this week on a perfect balloon morning

Mrs. B is going strong

I last wrote about Miss B two years ago, and thought it was time to give everyone an update.

If you have read this blog from the beginning in the first weeks of the pandemic you may remember Miss B as a very important part of our house during the “virtual school” period. Our smallest one Sihasin saw her older siblings doing school on the computer and was feeling left out. So, our oldest daughter decided to become “Miss B”, broadcasting some on-the-spot interactive lessons for Sihasin. (Original story on Miss B)

The last we heard of Miss B, she had used the pandemic to find her true calling. Turns out education wasn’t a long-term fit for her, and she went into the pawn shop business. Seems that she also found a life partner, as her shop on Gibson is called “Mrs. B’s Pawn Shop.”

Yes, this news shook the Writing to Heal blog community when I shared it two years ago.

By "shook", I mean to say that all credibility I had as a writer was lost. And that 98.2% of readers decided not to read the blog anymore.

Well, we went to check in on her recently, wanting to see how she was doing.

In her words:

“The Pawn Shop business has treated me well. I am still an educator, but now it’s more about how this 20-year old lawn mower really will change the person’s life if they would just buy it from me for $150 in cash. 

I talk to them about how it doesn’t matter that they live on a 4^th floor apartment. It is about dreaming to have grass and then the grass will come. And that starts with having one of my lawn mower's that may or may not actually work. I guess you would say I am an educator for life.”

Whether you are completely confused or laughing out loud, Mrs. B says to have a great day...

…and to come buy this darn lawn mower so she can make room for some more junk that she can peddle to people who don’t need it.

Sihasin visited her "teacher" recently. Looks like Mrs. B was taking some well-deserved rest, as the shop was closed. Or maybe she was out looking for the next great lawn mower to sell...

Transition (Fall is Here)

I was in the Bosque this morning and saw the first yellow leaves on the Cottonwoods.

A reminder that we are in a moment of transition.

Summer bowing humbly as it gives way for Fall to arrive.

Both do so with some doubts. Summer, on one hand, having settled in over the last months, worries about what it means to step aside. Fall, on the other hand, is a bit timid as it steps up, wondering if it can live up to expectations.

Transition.

It carries such beauty and power.

It can also be scary.

Tearing us from a place of comfort.

Teasing us with visions of what we might become.

Taking us to a land of the unknown.

 

As the Summer to Fall drama unfolds around us, one leaf at a time, each morning slightly darker and crisper than the one that preceded it, reflect on the transition occurring in your life at the moment. 

Where are your leaves changing?

How are the seasons changing in your life?

What is receding? What is being birthed?

How are you doing with the transition?

How and who do you want to be as you let Summer go and embrace Fall in your life?

 

Writing to Heal community, take some time to write today on the transition. Let nature be your co-author and guide if you wish, writing under a favorite tree or while you walk your favorite path.

Enjoy the journey that is your transition!

Enrique's Movement Journey

As a family doctor, I have a front-row seat to inspiration. My patients share their stories and lives. They share their journeys with me. Overcoming addiction, disease, pain, unhealthy work and family situations, etc.

My gratitude to all of those who I get to work with as their doctor. If you are reading this blog as one of my patients, this is your doc saying thank you. (Will give you a hug when I see you next).

I will share one of those stories today with you. Enrique is a great guy, a great father. But he recently had a health crisis, one that reminded him that he needed to turn more of his attention to his own health.

I will let Enrique tell you the rest…

Movement

It started as a need. I was dying. I had just been discharged from the ICU. I had suffered from a bout of diabetic ketoacidosis, and my blood sugar reading when I was admitted to the hospital was 415, and I was diagnosed with type-2 diabetes. I needed to change my diet and my activity level, but I was afraid I wouldn't have time between a very demanding work schedule and my aching body it seemed impossible to effect any meaningful change. Some major life events were going to quickly free up my time and motivate me in ways I hadn't considered.

The first event was getting laid off from work a week and a half after being in the hospital. I suddenly had more time than I knew what to do with. I could now begin to walk in the Bosque every day. I started just doing three quarters of a mile a day and eventually worked my way up to 3 miles a day within about a month and a half. I was starting to move in ways I hadn't been able to since my 20s. I was feeling good, and I was managing my diet well. My doctor was very pleased with my progress.

The second event happened about three months into my movement journey. My wife of 21 years decided that she wanted a divorce. It was an unexpected and soul crushing development. I was overwhelmed with despair and pain.  At the time, I was walking about 4 miles per day.

As I was working through the grief of separation, I noticed that when I was moving, the internal pain and angst I was experiencing was lessened. Movement provided me with a safe space every day, if only for a brief moment. I started to walk more and was soon averaging 5 to 6 miles per day.

Today, it has been over 9 months since my type-2 diabetes diagnosis and 6 months since separating from my ex-wife. I am averaging 7.25 to 9 miles per day with about 50 to 55 total miles per week. I have lost 50 pounds and am as strong as I've ever felt in my adult life. My blood glucose is now completely managed through diet and exercise.

Unexpectedly, movement has become the chief activator of healing in my life. Physically, mentally, and spiritually, I have come to rely on movement to place me in a position to learn, grow, and connect with myself and the world around me.

Movement is as important to me today as breathing. My life and my spirit are abundant with happiness and joy. I can’t imagine where I would be if I hadn’t had the good fortune to be able to experience the life events that drove me to movement. I am truly blessed and grateful for the life I have been allowed to live today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My brother Enrique, thank you for sharing with me and giving me permission to share with others. Thank you for allowing me to be a small part of your journey. 

I trust that your words will inspire others who need to take those courageous, intimidating first steps toward their own healing. #writingtoheal

Enrique now sees his doc on a monthly basis. The "visits" are done while walking a few miles at beautiful places and open spaces. The medicine is in the movement. This pic came from our last "visit", Los Poblanos Open Space. Shout out to the sunflowers that allowed us to pose with them.

Embrace the Wobble

Crying profusely.

“Dad, don’t make me do it.”

Our 5-year old had promised to try riding her bike, and I was trying to stand strong. But her tearful protest was making it hard not to back down. For a few months we had failed at getting her to be able to ride a bike without training wheels. “Why force her toward another failed attempt?” I asked myself.

After a few minutes of emotional tug-of-war, we got little Sihasin onto the bike.

She settled onto the bike seat.

Struggled to push off, but finally did.

Bike wobbled.

Wobbled some more.

She reacted and steadied herself.

Wobbling continued.

She again reacted and kept the bike from falling to the side.

She had figured it all out! She was riding a bike.

Tears of “don’t make me do this” replaced with “wow, I can do this!”

Daddy no longer feeling guilty, but now feeling a proud papa elation.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

This week, we may feel like Sihasin when faced with a daunting challenge. We may not cry in protest, but we may wish we could.

Maybe that is the exact moment where we are going to have the breakthrough, if we just push through the fear of failure. In fact, it might be helpful to stop and name what we are afraid of as a way of getting ourselves onto the bike to at least make an attempt.

And when the bike inevitably wobbles, trust that you can figure out how to react. 

Just like Sihasin. 

In fact, our failures have taught us how to be successful, even if we cannot quite see it yet in that moment.

Embrace the wobble.

Embrace the “don’t make me do this” voice in your head.

But similarly, embrace the voice telling you “I can do this.”