CELEBRATE!

How do you celebrate the good times in your life; the smile-inducing memories?  All the years I spent doing fun-run events, marathons and triathlons, mark some of my favorite personal achievements.  Not that I ever came in first or even finished in the top ten; I certainly did not!  But I saw improvement in my abilities for a time and learned a lot about myself.  

In order to do triathlon I learned how to swim properly and ride a bike with clipless pedals.  I gained personal bests in 5K and 10K events.  And, without realizing it, I was keeping MS in check.  MS was there, lurking, during those years, showing up as a persistent lack of stamina that I could never overcome.  An MRI for a stubborn headache revealed evidence of “demyelinating disease” while I was training for my next triathlon.

I have a couple of notorious closets here at home that contain things untouched for a while; okay, years.  Maybe even a decade ... or more.  

In one of these deserted chambers dwell my treasured running memorabilia.  T-shirts, finishers' medals and swag, camel-backs and clip-on food pouches.  There’s even a foil thermal blanket handed out at a marathon finishing line.  All of them, hard won emblems of my years of fun runs and weekend warrior-ship!  I’ve even kept every bib number I’ve ever worn in a large photo album.  Priceless stuff.  

What to do with my trinkets and sentimental keepsakes?  The t-shirts in particular, are dear to me as evidenced by the pile of them that have lived in a far corner of my bedroom walk-in closet.  I decided to make them into a quilt, so that I could enjoy their colorful graphics and the achievement, fun and fitness they represent. 

The things learned during those years have remained with me long after my last event.  I may not have the same abilities I had once but I am grateful for the time spent running, swimming, biking.  No regrets, just appreciation for having taken an opportunity when it came.  Now as then, I celebrate the good stuff.  More smiles to come.

Windows

The cat loves the window.  Kitty TV.  She never seems to tire of looking out at the birds and squirrels.  The green space behind the house is often visited by deer, a tiny micro meadow adjacent to a fairly busy road.

There isn't a lot going on for me right now.  Actually, there isn't a lot going on for a lot of people as we collectively try and stay healthy during the coronavirus pandemic.  The trips I had planned, the restaurants I enjoy, the movie theaters I visit -- everything is on hold. 

There have been some good things that have sprung up out of staying at home.  I've discovered the joys of grocery delivery.  I marvel at how much less money I spend when I don't go into the store.  Now that the panic buying has subsided and paper products are beginning to reappear, getting everything on my shopping list has become more dependable.  

I've been retired for four years now, so I've had a little practice keeping myself entertained at home.  But while we wait out the virus I am challenged to find new ways of being with myself and others.  Does the cat miss going outside? The window she and I enjoy looks out over my green space, but another window looks inward where there is also ample space to explore. 

 

Just Keep Swimming

How to finish the book.  It seems close to being done sometimes.  My fatigue in the evening drains me of incentive.  Weekends are my only respite since I have a day job to sustain throughout the week.  I must keep trying.  

Annie Dillard claims a book often takes years to complete.  I know there are themes everywhere, enough for more than one good story.

Writing comes from my core being which, with fragments of childhood persona lingering, is constantly changing year after year.  Reading the draft after a lengthy absence reflects evidence of the shifts in perspective that time can bring.  I wonder if painters feel the same way.  Does a painting remain a work that is satisfactory years later?  

Does the writer become the voice that endures, or is it the story that lives?  Would Maya Angelou look back at her early work and wince?  Before her death she had written so many wonderful stories that seemed to simply need telling.  It wasn’t necessary to add any moralizations or philosophical insights.  Each story told itself.

Whatever else I do, being creative satisfies a deep longing to bring a version of truth into being.  Whether or not another living being reads anything I write, although that is desirable, doesn’t really matter.  I will write anyway and trust that if I just keep swimming the next moments will be there.