My dear RP and I were running this morning amongst freezing cold and icy trails and had a wonderful time of conversation. She is often the ray of sunshine to my self deprecation when it comes to our long runs. We were both suffering from lack of sleep and being pretty hard on ourselves. As we traipsed up and down the trails of the Patapsco trail system and into Lake Elkhorn, our conversation led itself into a discussion about our motivation for running. Why are we choosing our schedule? Why are we so unforgiving of ourselves when we don’t run fast enough or if we feel tired? Are we running for ourselves (or even better, to glorify God) or are we running to compete against a demon (either in human form or some hidden feeling)?

We are not land speed breakers, but we hold our own. We are not skinny or sinewy but we can run 26.2 miles and handle various other physical tasks with fluency. But we are in a place in our lives where we feel as though we have to do it all “right now”. Family, career, running feats, triathlon feats, social service work, leadership roles etc. etc. etc. What will happen if we don’t make it all happen now? What will actually happen now?

For me, I have already seen the negative effects to trying to do to much in my running life. I have ended up injured, tired, and completely unmotivated to run. It is only now that, through a balance of running and other things, that I am enjoying running in a way that I had forgotten.

We must be willing to give ourselves permission to have a bad run, to not run a spring race, or to sleep in on any given Saturday at 7am. We must be gentle with our own bodies and souls so that we may endure the excessive pounding we put on our bodies when we do hit the road or the deal handed out to our soul when we slow down.

I envy those who can run, bike, or exercise without mental connection. Those who use this physical act to disconnect rather than to connect inward. I am so proud of running and how it has changed many parts of me, but at the end of the day I am still me. Hard on myself, competitive with others, and then again, harder on myself without regard to what life has given me on any given day. Often when dealing with myself, I think I feel that I must be infallible while I grant those around me concession for just about anything

I have made these big lofty race goals for 2008 and I hope to still go through with all of them, but if my motivation puts more hurt on my body, physically or emotionally, will this excessive work be worth it?

My motivation today? Reconnecting with a dear friend and running on trails that I haven’t been on in quite some time. The result: An ankle workout over ice for 10 miles. A chance to provide comfort and guidance to a friend who puts up with all of my poo on a regular basis.

My motivation tomorrow? Well that is for tomorrow

Tonight, the local running community all descended upon the local AMC to see The Spirit of the Marathon, a documentary about the experience of running a marathon (specifically Chicago, 2005). The movie was inspirational, funny, dramatic, and tear-jerking. It reminded me of what we go through as we prepare for and run the marathon. As we accompanied two elites and four mortals through their marathon experience, it was as if we were right there with them through the 20 milers, the early mornings, and the race day.

In this moment of my life, where I question my strength on a regular basis, this movie reminded me of what I have accomplished….seven times. At one point in the movie one of the participants said, “If I can run a marathon, I can survive anything.” I am uplifted by this statement. The marathon is the most physically taxing experience I have ever had (particular this past fall) and as I embark on the most emotionally taxing experience in my life (i’m guessing), I take heart in the memory that I too, can survive anything.

In my recent attempts to understand the culture of women, trust, anger, and fear, I have started to read Mean Girls All Grown Up by Hayley DiMarco. I have had it on my bookshelf for some time, but I have finally begun to approach it. I have started my study with it knowing that as a student, I was bullied. However, I was never the target of girls in my school as displayed by many nonfiction books (Queen Bees and Wanna Bee’s, Odd Girl Out, etc.) and in film, Mean Girls (based on QB&WB). I was actually bullied by boys in school, which creates an odd circumstance for now, where I navigate the waters of trust and authenticity in friendships and “enemiships” with women.
So far, I have found the book to be very interesting in how to scripturally deal with women in our lives who cause us hurt, mistrust, or anger through their actions or words. It is so often not about our action but our reaction that will cause us to be in pain. It is through our perpetuation of the negative attention that it will continue.

I find this was definitely the case in high school with my bullies. My reactions of tears or pleas for help just increased the fuel to their fire. In the end, it was graduation and a dedicated approach to ignoring their taunts well into college that enabled me to let go and encouraged them to stop.

I am so desperately saddened though, that we, in our adult years, even need books like this. I have this fictional notion of the way women should unite together, build each other up, and support one another that simply does not exist. Of course, in my close personal friendships, these things exist and thrive, but within a culture of greater “sisterhood”, I can’t seem to find unity.

Superchick has many amazing songs about being bullied, hurt, suffering, and various other adolescent and young adult type strife issues. But in particular, they have a song called High School. This song is the definition of what I have experienced lately. Somehow, some of us have never left the arena where we had to compete against things that are purely physical and/or materialistic. We continue, in our adulthood, to lift up ourselves through the abuse of others. It makes me so tremendously sad. In any efforts I have made to avoid these situations, it ends up appearing as I am something I am not. I cannot fully articulate what is perceived about me, I can only whisper, speak, and shout all of the things I am trying to be, regardless of their perception.

Sometimes it all feels more stressful than is worth. The vast amount of energy trying to define myself and my intentions to those who do not understand me seems so often moot. As a pleaser, I find myself digging a deeper and deeper whole trying to build a bridge that continues to be burnt down. At what point do I say to the arsonist, “enough. i have tried to please you, to understand you, to help you, to befriend you, and I have failed. I surrender.”

I am hoping that through this surrender that God will help me to see the value in letting go. Obviously not my best attribute but a very clear solution to my days, months, and years worth of trying to fix, when the solution is not to fix but to forget.

the love of my life is about 2ft. long and about 18 pounds. he is currently asleep next to me and snoring quite loudly. he is heaven with fur.

This card goes with me everywhere I go and it helps me when I have no answers to my questions. It helps me realize that I may not have resolutions to the answers in my heart in my time but yet there will come a time when perhaps I will not even questions the why, how, and when of things.

While I don’t think Rilke was making any references to God. I am going to take my own interpretation that God does things for the good of those whole love Him. He has answers to all of the world’s great questions. He provides the hope, grace, and peace for anyone who seeks it. Instead of searching God for the reasons and answers to heartache, perhaps it better to ask God to seek me. Ask God to show me how I can best fulfill his purpose for me. I wonder if this is not maybe a better way.

This poem references a sense of trust. In the journey or the process or the way, whichever vernacular is best. But alas, when one has lost a sincere sense of trust and endures what feels like unending heartache, it seems like the last thing possible is to trust in something unseen. And there in lies faith.

Peace.

Sara Groves is perhaps the best singer song-writer I have ever encountered. I sometimes feel like she knows me as well as my best friend or my Mom and speaks right to me. This is truly a blessing from God.

I highly recommend her to anyone, Christian or not. Check out Add to the Beauty and Tell Me What You Know, in particular, if you are feeling like you are in a tough place in life’s journey.

I am reading a lovely book, “Listening is an Act of Love“. It is a compilation of many of the interviews from StoryCorps project. I have several of the transcripts between mothers and grandmothers, aunts and nephews, brothers and sisters, etc. But last night, I read the most beautiful quote as it was transcribed from one of the speakers. It was incredibly appropriate in its timing and I can’t help but think that God had his hand in my picking that book that day.

I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition.
–Martha Washington

I found this quote to be exactly what I was needing for the day. Rough waters in our daily life can some time lead to rough floods, but if we approach the waters with yellow raft in tow, we are in a much better starting position. So I must be a fully committed participant in my own happiness. I must take into account my own position and my own fault for misery. I must make a point to be cheerful or happy in my situation in order to build a bridge over the waters. (Seriously, what is up with the use of cliche)

Today, a friend told me that I didn’t have to be cheerful all the time, that it was ok to show it if I was feeling some other way. In my place of work, I find this hard because I so want to put my best face forward for our children. But nevertheless, I was grateful for this permission of sorts to once in a while not to be the cheeriest of the bunch. It was nice to have a moment in which I was reminded that here, in this place, that I have friendship. He then shared with me a blog I hope to spend some time with — The Happiness Project I hope you, dear reader of my blog, find it a source of joy or provoked thought for you.

Here is one of my essays for my application to the Klingenstein Summer Institute. I will hear the results in March!

Our students are affectionately known as what Marc Prensky calls “digital natives”, yet we as teachers are often “digital immigrants”. I consider myself a digital “immi-native” having grown up in a generation who learned to type on a typewriter, but who also learned to play Oregon Trail and how to use email in high school. As a teacher, I have always believed that using technology is good and useful, but until this school year, I never realized how it could transform my teaching practice.

As a music teacher, I was trained in a variety of musical pedagogies, all of which involve a tremendous amount of rote learning and passive listening. When we provide our students the opportunity to listen to music from a diverse range of historical and genre perspectives it opens new worlds. Or so we hope. In my few short years as a teacher I have found that traditional listening lessons, where students sit and listen to music, have led to very inadequate musical understanding of concepts such as pitch, instrument identification, and tempo. There is also very little visible enjoyment. Passive listening to music, however beautiful or exciting it may be, does not provide students an experience that most composers intended when writing their great works. Music is to be experienced using multiple senses-seen and heard and in many times felt. Writing prompts, historical context lessons, and movement have surely helped engage my students to listen as an experience not as an act. I felt like something was still missing.

Then, it arrived – the shiny new Epson LCD projector mounted firmly on my music room ceiling and attached to a lovely desktop PC with a high-speed connection. To my absolute delight, You Tube was not blocked by our firewall and I was able to commence a completely new way of teaching listening lessons to my elementary children. We no longer listen to each season of Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons while sitting idly on the carpet. We watch as the great master Itzhak Perlman plays the Allegro section of Autumn with the Tel Aviv Symphony. This opens a new world for my children and therefore, for me, as the teacher. We explore together what we see and hear, and experience the music in what seems a new way, but is rather an age-old tradition. We transform our classroom through the use of technology.

So while I embrace the masters of music pedagogy in many ways, I believe firmly that my instruction must include technology integration. Our digital natives have come to expect it. In homage to the great masters who have written for cathedrals and concert halls, I can think of no greater gift to provide in our music listening than by using technology to recreate this experience for the students.

Yoga was neat. I don’t think that is a good way of describing it, but it wasn’t what I thought it would be. This particular instructor is a practioner of Iyengar Yoga. Because so many of us were newbies (resolution junkies, I call us), she led a very basic class in which we learned some very simple poses (asanas?) including only one balance pose. The use of the straps to do stretching was not what I had anticipated and actually caused me to do more strength work. But I left feeling relaxed and loose (and sore), which I think is good.

Perhaps I will go again next week.

I am going to my first yoga class in two minutes. I am slightly afraid that I will pull something or fall down ungracefully in front of a class of swans….Alas, I am fulfilling a goal to try yoga.

For those who know me and my lack of grace, please no laughing.

Full report tomorrow.