Thursday, March 23, 2017

You Will Get Better


Whatever you decide to start doing, you will get better at it. You will. It just takes time.


A LOT of time.

When I first started swimming, I naively assumed that my endurance from running would directly translate to swimming. And yes, I had the endurance. But what I didn't have any of was skill. I was like a pit bull that didn't understand why it couldn't chew its way through a brick wall. It was like trying to run a race with my shoelaces tied together. All the endurance in the world wouldn't have mattered.

Instead of accepting that I had to learn how to swim better, I just decided that I was a slow swimmer. I was a lumberjack trying to chop trees with a baseball bat, saying, "whelp, I guess I'm just a slow woodcutter." But this was a defense mechanism. I was accepting defeat early on so that I wouldn't be disappointed later. I was setting the bar very low so that if I did poorly in a triathlon, I could say, "see, told ya so."

It was super lame.

I've had a lot of breakthroughs in my swimming in the past couple months. Even just today I learned something new. I caught a swimming video someone posted online and immediately noticed a difference in their stroke from mine. I applied the change and cut the number of strokes it took me to cross the pool. Also my forearms hurt like heck now.

Instead of whining about how much I suck, I've decided to flip my ego the bird. I want to get better and faster. And since I've made that decision, I've noticed consistent improvement. And I remembered, "oh, right, when you practice something, you get better at it."

"Listen, I don't know how to say this....
But all that practice isn't helping."


You'd think I would've learned this from running. But when I started running I was an overweight alcoholic. It was easy to convince myself that I just had to lose weight and magically I'd get faster. Which was true to an extent. I also didn't really care back then. Once I started racing regularly, my running was already in a decent place. Although certainly it would have been better if I'd trained intelligently.

Part of my problem is that I'm a "natural", or at least I used to believe so when I was young. When I started training martial arts, I got good at it pretty quickly. Although once I got my black belt, I realized that I knew jack$hit. I was fast and flexible, but if I had ever gotten in a real fight, I probably would've gotten killed.

School was easy for me too. High school. I didn't do anything and flew by with great grades. And then I went to college and suddenly realized that I had no clue how to do homework or how to study. And no, I didn't get much better. I graduated with mediocre grades and promptly forgot everything I'd learned. I only vaguely remember how to build a band-pass filter. Resistors. Capacitors. Something something.

Learning a new skill takes a long time. Strengthening your body takes a long time. Doing anything of value takes a lot of hard work. Genetics and natural talent can help.... a little. But it's a double edged sword. I sometimes think of myself as a jack-of-all-trades. I learn new things quickly. But I'm not really an expert at anything. I've been doing karate for over 20 years and I still learn new things all the time.

Or at least I've learned to look menacing.


It's exciting though. It means that you can decide to do almost anything, and if you dedicate yourself to it and keep doing it, you will get good at it. You can start glassblowing right now, and in 10 years you will be amazing at it. That may sound like a long time, but unless you're an octogenarian, you will still have plenty of life left in 10 years, and you'll be able to impress all your friends with your mad glassblowing skillz.

A lot of folks will start something, realize that they won't be perfect at it after a week, get frustrated, and give up. They spend that time instead drinking beer and watching TV. Imagine how many talents you would have if you filled that time up with learning and training. How many languages could you speak? How many mountains could you climb? How many band-pass filters could you build?!

Time is your friend and the possibilities are limitless!

Although some folks will never learn...

Monday, March 13, 2017

Training Makes Me an Idiot


One of the side effects of training a lot is that it messes with my brain chemistry. This is especially the case if I also don't eat or sleep enough. When this happens, I get depressive and have irrational thoughts. And even though I know, logically, that what I'm feeling is absurd, I can't help it.


It doesn't make me want to jump off a building or anything insane. But it does make me say really stupid things sometimes. I'm already my own worst critic. But when I get in this mood, I say things to belittle myself. This is annoying on its own. But it has the unintended result of belittling others as well.

If I work out for 3 hours, and then complain about how lazy I am, it insults everyone else who exercises, especially if they exercised for "only" an hour or two. If I feel like a wimp for using a treadmill because the weather is just too awful, it insults anyone else who uses a treadmill. If I complain about how slow or weak I am, it insults anyone who hasn't yet achieved my paces or level of fitness. And it even insults those who train just as hard, and know how hard it is to train to that extent.

"I don't train at all. And it's awesome. Try it some time."


Being critical of myself is good in that it pushes me to work harder. But not if it causes me to push myself past my breaking point. And especially not if it causes me to lose the people I care about. I've mentioned on this blog many times now important it is to have love and companionship in my life. And yet I act in a way that pushes people away.

A lot of folks tell me I should eat more. I've been trying to! But I'm fairly certain that I still have malabsorption issues from the nasty stomach thing I had in January. It goes away, but then the discomfort comes back after a particularly intense workout. It generally takes me forever to recover from anything. I've had tennis elbow (not from tennis) for over a month. Swimming is keeping that from healing too.

It all turns into a nasty self-reinforcing effect. I exercise a lot. My brain gets screwy and I feel bad. And because I feel bad I feel like I need to punish myself. So I exercise even harder, and say stupid things that pi$$ everyone off. Rinse repeat. Hooray!

The easy advice is to just work out less. But I'm training for an Ironman. I don't know what I can cut out. It's a struggle for me to get three swims in a week. Usually I get "only" two. I bike about three times a week, but only one of those is a long bike ride that's over 2 hours. I maybe run a little too much, but I barely hit 30 miles per week. I lift once a week, which is about all I can manage right now.

"I'm fine. Pay no attention to
gaunt, bleeding man in the mirror."


Of course, training is hard for everyone. And not just for triathletes. Even when I "just" ran, I would burn out from a 50, 60, or higher mile week. When I see folks post their epic workouts, it's easy to imagine that it's no big deal for them. So I judge myself that I can't just bounce back from a half marathon or a 3 hour bike ride. But I know I'm being ridiculous.

I'm pretty sure I'll be "one and done" after this Ironman. Even if it's an awesome experience (and I hope it will be!). I just don't like myself like this. I've learned a lot in the past few years, and finally feel like I know what my limits are and what I enjoy. I'm at a point where I don't feel the need to constantly show off with insane workouts.

I'm committed to the Ironman, and I'm excited about it. So I will stick it out, and try to be conscientious of my attitude and behavior in the meantime. The Ironman is a big thing on my bucket list, and it's worth a few months of pain and grief. And after that, I'll be in a place where I can say, "you know, I did something pretty epic. I don't need to keep proving myself." I can shape a life for myself that brings joy not only to me, but to others as well.

And maybe stop taking so many
obnoxious selfies.


So to anyone I've upset, I'm sorry. Know that it's a personal thing, and not because I'm trying to be a jacka$$. I really am amazed and inspired by every athlete I see, even the ones who only just started and can barely run a mile. I've been through the entire trajectory. I can remember a time when one mile was hard for me. Really hard.

I didn't judge myself back then though. I laughed, because my puppy would get completely buried in snow when she accidentally ran into a snowdrift. I didn't compare myself to anyone else, and I didn't have an image I felt compelled to uphold. And I know now that there's a compromise between not caring, and caring too much. The Ironman is the finish line. After that I can relax, enjoy, and stop being such an idiot!

"Stop taking me outside when
there's a foot of snow!"
Also, daylight savings time can go screw itself.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Belonging


I have a lot of reasons for why I run. Mostly to burn calories so I can gorge myself on cookies and pies. But one more reason that's become clear lately is a sense of belonging.

I've struggled with this all of my life. I've always been an introvert, and still consider myself one. I used to drink partly to have camaraderie with other drinkers. I took up photography so I'd have a reason to hang out with musicians, performers, and the like. I need a "prop" like this, because otherwise I'll just stay at home with my cat. I'm too selfish otherwise. All my intimate relationships have imploded because of this selfishness.

I like to give, to be generous. I like to make people feel good, to applaud their successes and inspire them to achieve even more. But I need a switch. Something that I can use to turn on my extroversion. It doesn't come naturally. Running is a solo activity. I've run with friends, and that's great! But usually it's just me, pounding out the miles on the pavement so that afterwards I can eat, like, a bucket of french fries.

But through running I've met an astonishing number of astonishingly amazing people! I didn't mean for it to happen. But it did. And I didn't realize how much I needed that community, that sense of belonging. And I'm thankful that these amazing folks have let me squeeze into their lives.

Technology these days is magic. It allows us to connect with people all over the world. It allows us to talk to old friends we haven't seen in years. It allows us to track family that are scattered thousands of miles apart. But it's also a double-edged sword.

Certainly we are more connected than in any other point in history. At the same time though, we no longer feel like we belong anywhere. Our ancestors may have only known the people in their village, but they were deeply rooted there. They played with, worked with, and lived next to those people all their lives. Those relationships by their nature were deep and meaningful. And even though our ancestors had much less in the way of luxuries than we do today, they generally felt happier.


Being part of a group of people is key to our happiness. Being alone is usually miserable. And though in the modern era, we are all "friends" online with hundreds if not thousands of people, we feel entirely isolated. We post a picture of our smiling faces, doing something cool and interesting. But that's a momentary blip in our lives, and gives absolutely no indication of how we live and feel. It's superficial.

What we post online says almost nothing about us, other than how good our timing is with our cellphone cameras. We like to create a perception that our lives are exciting and full of joy. But we know that none of the folks who "like" our posts really know anything about us. There's no sense of deep connection. No sense that we belong anywhere.

I'll admit that when I post my runs and selfies online, a big part of it is vanity. I like to show off my fitness. Certainly I inspire others as well, and that's awesome. But I'd be lying if I said it wasn't largely selfish. But then that's the reason many of the others post their workouts as well. They want to have that acknowledgment and appreciation. And I don't hesitate to let one of them know how awesome they are!


It's a community. And we all belong to it. And when I first joined it, I thought it would stay "online". But I was wrong. I've met some of these runners in real life. I've run with them. I've partied with them. I've laughed until tears streamed down our faces with them. We've hugged and fist bumped and toppled over each other.

And each one of them that I've met is amazing. The strength and energy that propels their runs suffuses every aspect of their lives. It bubbles out of them in the form of love and laughter. They do not leech off others. They give to others. And when we are all together, the vibe we share is palpable. It's intoxicating.

It's a little sad that I get to experience that level of intimacy and friendship so rarely that every time I do, it feels like I'm high. But then again, maybe it's just because I've been blessed to meet some of the best people in the world. However, even when I'm alone with my cat, I still feel that I'm a part of something now. Even when I'm apart from these strong and beautiful people, I still have that sense of belonging.

Even in my loneliest moments, I can think of them, and feel the warmth of happiness envelop me.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Lake Effect Half Marathon


On Sunday, February 26, I ran the Lake Effect Half Marathon in Liverpool, NY. I signed up for the race - and for the Syracuse Half which is next month - for a specific reason. You're going to think I lost my mind.


I won't argue that.

Last year's Syracuse Half was an apocalypse of snow and ice. There was so much snow you couldn't see an inch in front of your face. Also your eyeballs froze. The world was covered in ice, like Arnold Schwarzenneger in that terrible Batman movie, but with less villainy. Unless you consider mother nature a villain. It sure felt that way on that day!

Many of the folks couldn't even make it to the race. The highway was an ice skating rink, but with none of the fun. Just a heart-gripping terror. Those who made it to the race weren't much better off. I watched video clips of the race, and it was mostly a white screen with an occasional splash of color, looking miserable.

Imagine this with ten thousand times more snow.


I was jealous!

Do you think I'm crazy yet? I wanted to run in that disgusting wintry disaster! I wanted to be smashed with hail and caked with an inch of ice and snow. I wanted my beard to look like it had been transplanted from a yeti. I wanted to run on a road that, despite having been plowed an hour previously, was already a snowbank.

So I signed up for two winter halves this year, hoping that at least one would try to murder me with arctic vengeance. Lake Effect Half was cold, and windy, but not excessively so. I was briefly coated in snow, but for the most part the sun was out. The course was an out-and-back, twice, so I did get to enjoy alternately sweating and freezing depending on the direction. But the race was, well... pleasant!

I'm not disappointed though. It was a great race, and I got to run it with some amazing folks. So let's start over.

I left home about 7. As I pulled out of the driveway, my neighbor ran over to me. My windows were frozen shut, so I had to open the passenger door. He needed a jump-start. I stopped next to his car, popped the hood, and got out of my car.

I forgot I was wearing my running kilt.

Kilt: Appropriate for all weather conditions.


To his credit he didn't remark on it. His car wouldn't start right away, so he started yanking wires out of things, which seemed questionable to me. I was hoping he knew what he was doing. Finally the car started. Nothing exploded. I left.

I picked David up at his brand new house. It's a very nice house but I don't think it's relevant to this tale. I guess jump-starting cars wasn't relevant either. Suffer my whimsy! We drove to Syracuse. We had some deeply meaningful conversations, and I don't remember any of them. We got to Onondaga Lake Park, got out of the car, and realized it was cold. It had been about 60 for the three days prior.

We saw Todd, the race coordinator and fellow LUNAR. I had actually seen him the day before, when I went to pick up my race packet. He recognized me as the guy who runs in a kilt. When I die, I'll have to make sure my gravestone is plaid. On the way back from that excursion, I got caught in a cataclysmic rain storm and almost died. I saw another car smash into a guardrail on the highway, which was really exciting.

David and I peed a lot, loitered, and waited for all the rest of the LUNAR folks running the race to arrive. It was a large and attractive bunch! Lois, Curt, Jeff, Chris, Michael, Sue, Steve, Charli, and a couple others I can't recall because I'm a terrible person. A rib crushing number of hugs were exchanged.

Attractive bunch!


I jogged a couple miles before the race, and then waded into the large crowd of runners at the starting line. I insisted on a selfie with all the LUNARs because I'm lonely and want to look like I have friends. Then we were off!

Michael and I ended up running at the same pace, and stayed together for the first 10 miles. We had some interesting conversations, which, as usual, I don't remember at all. But they were edifying! I'm certain. There were a few individuals we made note of as we ran. The ultra-fast runner in first, the lead biker in the yeti costume (really), the lady in front of us with the nice butt who looked like she was on a leisurely walk but was super fast, a guy we passed several times who was just.... HUGE. I kept yelling things at him like "DIESEL", but he had headphones in. And of course the other LUNARs, who all looked like superheroes.

Really.

The course went out a little over 3 miles, and then back, and then out again, and then back. On the way out there was a headwind that froze us to the bone. On the way back we would broil alive and strip off clothes like teenagers in a motel on prom night. And of course our paces were all over the place, so after a while we thought, "whatever, let's just not die."

Running along the lake was beautiful, and running with Michael made the miles fly by. He told me to go on ahead after the last turnaround so I finished a couple of minutes ahead of him. The yeti on the bike was impressed with my kilt, and threw chocolate at me. The spectators were great, and the other runners were pretty cheerful. In no time at all I was across the finish line.
Not sure how Michael tolerated my absurdity for so long!


I finished a little over 1:42. Not super fast, but considering all my cross-training and horrible maladies in the past couple months, it wasn't bad!

I immediately turned around and jogged out until I spotted Lois. Then I ran with her for the last mile and a half of her race. She took a brief walk break at one point and told me to go on ahead. "Where would I go? I'm already done!" I laughed. We entertained one another until she finished. I was impressed with her, and all the LUNARs, running on that cold windy day. Unlike me, she doesn't actually like icky weather.

Altogether I ran 18 miles Sunday. I felt good afterwards, although my body has been a disaster since. We went to lunch together at Peppino's, an awesome pizza place. We talked about snot cannons and other stupid things and had a great time, pigging out. I love how easily we all connect with one another, even though we only hang out a couple times a year. LUNARs are amazing and loving folks, passionate not just for running, but in all things in life. It's hard to find such great camaraderie and positivity elsewhere.

Lovely LUNARs!


David and I had some wholly inappropriate conversations on the drive back, most of which I do actually remember, but I can't share here. Something to do with the 5th amendment. After I got home, I reverted to my natural state, a bloated lethargic blob. It was luxurious.

I'm looking forward to Syracuse next month, and to meeting even more LUNARs! And I'm crossing my fingers that on the day of the race, the Earth will reorient itself and the north pole will move to Syracuse, NY, dumping an appropriate amount of frozen destruction upon our heads as we run!

Until then!

I was thinking about not ending the
post with a selfie. Fail.

Lake Effect photos thanks to Paciorek Orthodontics and volunteer photographers.

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Tri Training


I'm signed up for the Mont-Tremblant Ironman in August. I'm also doing two Half-Ironmans, Patriot in June, and Musselman in July. I still consider myself mostly a runner, and that's what my blog usually is about, but I have to do a fair bit of biking and swimming too. I could run every day, even if I'm not feeling well or I'm "not in the mood." Biking and swimming are a pain.


Well, indoors anyway. Biking for hours on a stationary bike sucks, even watching Netflix. And swimming back and forth in a pool gets... repetitive. Doing those things outside is a lot more fun. But right now I don't have much choice. I don't want to jump into the water at my first triathlon and exclaim, "oh wait, I don't know how to swim!" And drown.

Drowning blows.

I still suck at swimming. Old ladies regularly kick my a$$ in the pool. Not that I'm knocking old ladies. They're badass. There's one I see regularly who's around 70 and looks like a locomotive in the water. Churn churn churn. I look like a pigeon that just fell into a puddle. Except the puddle is 8 feet deep.

"It's wet?! Nobody told me it would be wet!!"

Geoffrey and Meghan have insane training plans. Their coaches try to kill them every day. Geoffrey's legs have swelled to the size of tree trunks. Meghan trains more in a single day than I do in a week. I can't do what they do. I've always just "winged" my training. But it's the only way I can avoid burning out. The two of them will likely cross the finish line in Quebec hours before me.

That's OK.

I'm doing it because I can. Only .5% of people have completed a marathon. But 1 in 200 isn't awesome enough for me; I've done plenty of marathons. Less than .01% have completed an Ironman. That's something I could maybe boast about. I recognize it's just my ego. But it's healthier than showing off how much whiskey I used to drink.

Well, if I drown, maybe that won't be true. You can only figuratively drown yourself in a whiskey bottle.

Training for a triathlon has its upsides. No one part of my body gets as hammered as when I just run. There's more variety, more options. If the weather is awful outside, I can hop on the stationary bike and pretend I'm not lazy. And swimming can be downright therapeutic when my body is fried. I don't foam roll or massage my muscles or do any of the other things that intelligent people do. But swimming helps even out the many kinks in my body.

At this point I think I have more kinks than "body".

Finding the time can be hard. Well, mostly getting up when it's still dark out is hard. I often exercise before and after work. And I do 8 to 9 hours total Friday through Sunday. And that will only increase as I get closer to the summer. I'm impressed by people who have a family and still train for a triathlon! I'm not sure that they even sleep. I don't sleep either, but only because my body is still expecting me to pull out my late night sick pack of Coors Light.

"Just four more to go!"

Ahh the good old days.

2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles of biking, and 26.2 miles of running seems like a lot. It is! But then, I used to think a full marathon was far. Now I'll run at least half that distance just for giggles. And some people think a triathlon of any length is a feat. But I swam for an hour, biked for over an hour, and ran 5 miles on Sunday, which is somewhere between a sprint tri and an intermediate tri. And once my bike rides start stretching to 4, 5, 6 hours, even that won't seem that terrible.

Your mind just gets used to it. You torture it enough, it gives up complaining. Some folks may hesitate to sign up for an event that far exceeds anything they've done before. But that's what the training is for. As long as you don't slack off, you will be able to finish. Maybe not fast, but you will. And I signed up for the Ironman almost a full year out, so I have no excuse.

I waste too much time posing for cameras.

There's no way I'd be doing what I'm doing now if I hadn't signed up. If you're someone who struggles with exercising daily.... sign up for a race! It doesn't have to be an Ironman. Even a half marathon is awesome! And the fear of failure, the fear of embarrassment, is greater than the ickiness of slush and snow. Prey on those insecurities!

Training daily is all about fooling your brain. Motivation sucks. You can't count on it. But manipulative trickery.... That's gold! Your brain only wants fried foods and sleep. Anything beyond that and you will start hearing an angry buzzing between your ears. Don't feel bad. My brain hates me too.

Use any and every dirty trick you can think of to keep yourself going.

Also, I used "well" a lot...

 

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The Bad Stuff is the Good Stuff


I've been fortunate in life. Despite occasionally b@#ching about being sick for a few weeks or running slow, I've been lucky. Things have always worked out for me right when I needed them to. There are many people who aren't so lucky. They suffer from anxiety. Depression. I used to think, "that makes no sense. They should just get over it."

That's because I was an idiot.

I would judge these folks because when I was younger, I didn't stress much over anything. It's not that I was better at handling my $hit than them. It's because I didn't really care about anything or anyone. It wasn't a solution. It was an escape. I was afraid of caring. Now there are things in my life that I value strongly, and people that I care about immensely. So now I get anxious or melancholy much more often, but it's worth it.

I also have friends in my life who suffer from depression or anxiety. Some of them have to take medication for it, because if they don't, it will ruin their life. For my younger stupid self, this was hard to grasp. But I've experienced the mental anguish of my friends second-hand for some time now. And due to my constant training, I've experienced my own brain chemistry get completely f@#ked. I've gotten really upset, really angry, anxious, and downright depressed, even though I would tell myself logically, "what the f*&k? Just get over it!"

It doesn't work.

Growing up doesn't prepare you for this at all. School is easy. Students may feel like it's tough, but it's not. You have structure. You are told what to do. You know exactly what to expect. You don't have to worry about a car breaking down, staying late for work, or a friend inviting you to an all day event that you have to go to (yeah, skip that wedding because you don't feel like going; just try it). In school, life makes sense. You feel like everything is going according to plan, and that is immensely comforting.

Then you graduate and you realize, cr@p, you have absolutely no clue what to do. Suddenly the down comforter of purpose and structure is violently ripped away from you, exposing you to the harsh elements of real life and self-doubt.


I went to an Ivy League school, not because I was smart or hard-working, but because I was lucky. I grew up poor, but I ate enough and had a place to live, because I was lucky. I felt satisfied in my world view, confident that my life would work out perfectly, magically. I was lucky to have this faith and sense of solidity.

When I graduated I didn't get an awesome job. I wasn't a driven or dedicated person. I lived with my parents and was only slightly employed. I would sleep in, go to the gym, and hang out with my very few nerdy friends. I kept living like a child. The only reason I got the awesome job I have now is because my dad got tired of me bumming around the house and directed me to a job ad (again, pure blind luck).

I still didn't find meaning or direction. I started drinking and my social life exploded. Ahah! I thought. This is it, this is what I was missing: Connection. But it wasn't connection, it was just empty frivolous validation and ego-seeking. I didn't give a shit about the people I met; I only sucked emotional highs out of them. I hurt people, but I didn't care. And I still judged those who were anxious or scared.

"I'm not anxious. This just sucks."

I coasted by like this for years. I jumped from "relationship" to "relationship". I use quotes because saying I was capable of anything substantial at the time is laughable. I partied. I drank. I got fat. I had a lot of fun. A lot of fun. And for a long time it was enough. I convinced myself it was enough. I avoided stress and responsibility like they were the plague. And having a nice job convinced me I wasn't a total loser.

Now I stress. Now I worry. Now I get anxious. Now I get depressed. And thank God. Thank. God. I want responsibility. I want to give a $hit about things. I want to have people in my life that matter so much to me that I think constantly about them and worry about how they're doing. I want to obsess over my training and whether I'm working hard enough to accomplish my goals. I want to have to review this blog post to make sure I didn't use the same fancy noun twice.

I'm a human being now. I'm no longer a pile of goop chasing after stimulus. I'm no longer a child absentmindedly chewing on salty snacks drowning myself in pretty colors and noises. I'm no longer an imp chasing after petty indulgences. I thought I was liberated before, but I was just scared, confusing pain-avoidance for freedom. My soul is liberated now, free to immerse itself fully in life.

And life is awesome.

Absurd, awesome, whatever.
Photo Cr. Marc Ryan

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Happy Valentines Day!


Life is tough and weird and crazy. Sometimes it's hilarious, and sometimes it's painful. There's times when we rejoice, and times when we suffer. But the bad times are much easier to bear with people you love, and the good times are that much better when shared with them!

The past few months have been just as bizarre for me. There were times when I felt absolutely alone, refusing to allow anyone to break my self-imposed isolation. Thankfully that's been more than offset by the immense love and joy that I've been given recently. I sometimes whine that I don't "deserve" it, but love is something you cultivate. It doesn't just fall on top of you like a chandelier while you're reading Tolstoy.

I have likewise had ups and down in my training, which I've mentioned in other posts. In the fall, I buried myself in a dark place due to my overtraining syndrome. In January I could've easily fallen into a similar pit of despair due to a horrible stomach thing, but thankfully I didn't allow myself to do so. Someone has recently entered my life who makes me feel genuinely blessed. She's reminded me that I want joy in my life, and that secluding myself is just an indulgence.

That may seem weird, that choosing to feel bad is an indulgence. But it is. Ultimately we decide how we react to the events in our lives. We can choose to focus on the bad stuff - the disasters. We can choose to take for granted the good stuff - the minor miracles. Or we can take it all as an opportunity to grow, become stronger, to prosper, and to be more joyful.

Being alone brings a sort of comfort. It's a familiar pain. And when you're alone, nobody can hurt you, and you can't hurt anyone. I've hurt a lot of people in my life. I used to be very selfish, and now I recognize that fact. I feel guilty for having hurt people. And yet, when I talk to those old friends, expressing my regret, they forgive me! The guilt doesn't help anyone, it just acts as an excuse to not change. I embrace change now. It excites me and brings constant improvements.

Oops.

I don't really celebrate Valentine's Day, or most holidays for that matter. One may argue it's just a commercial holiday, meant to sell greeting cards and chocolates. One may say, "why do you need a special day to express how you feel?!"

You don't.

But it's a day of focus. Today, I can't not think about love. The love I have to give, and the love many others have so generously given me. It's a day I can say "I love you!" to my dear friends without making them too squeamish (although I generally don't mind making folks squirm a bit with my sappiness these days). And even with the cards and chocolates and stuffed bears that will go straight into a closet... it brings a moment of warmth. Sometimes it's all too easy to forget how lucky you are to have the people in your life that you do.

I know I've been mentioning love a lot recently. I promise I'll go back to talking about crushing rocks with bare feet! But as always, I write for myself too, and this is a lesson I do not want to forget. I have forgotten it all too often in the past. I can never have too many reminders of how important it is to me. Out of all the highs life has brought me - beautiful nights of music and laughter, crossing the finish line of a brutal race, breaking a brick with my bare hands - love is the one I can point to and say, "this is it. This is why I'm alive."

So to you reader, I love you. And to some special readers, I love you extra :)

As close as I'll come to flowers!