Archive for the ‘Quotidien’ Category

Sunday I ran a 10K, which in “American” is seven miles. It wasn’t just a run—it was the culmination of a long journey. So, do you want to know the secret to my completing the seven mile run? A single step. Seriously. The entire run was accomplished by taking “just one more step.” It is a noble lie that I tell myself each time I tell myself “I can’t”. I listen to the tired me who feels committed to the “I can’t” and I tell her that I understand. I might even muster my most compassionate therapist voice, “I hear your pain. I know that you think you can’t. You don’t have to; really, you don’t, you just have to take one more step.” I have this conversation with myself hundreds of times during a single run. I have had this conversation with myself thousands of times since my life began anew last March. And each time I tell myself “just one more step” I manage to accomplish more than I ever imagined and I accrue milage, both geographical and metaphorical, that astounds me.

Sunday was my first 10K ever. Sure I had run in the past—I ran for fitness at many different times in my life—but I had never been a runner. I think I have become one. You see, for the past nine months I have run not so much for fitness but rather because it is what I do to feel strong and free and good. There have been times in the last nine months( especially in March, April and May) when my time running was the only time I felt good.   If you were here with me back then you will remember that I was feeling a bit like a shark, I was feeling like the way I could handle all the anxiety of my new life was to keep moving. I was a constant moving machine. When not sending our resumes or house hunting or doing a million other things to prove to myself that I could take care of myself and that I would be okay, I was working out. When slammed by the midnight monsters that came out from under the bed and out of the closet who delighted in telling me horrible stories about how I wasn’t going to be able to make it on my own and how I would be homeless and destitute and alone, I would deal with the haunting anxiety by jumping out of bed and onto an elliptical machine and moving as fast as I could. During those first few months it was nothing for me to spend two hours a day on the elliptical machine. As long as I was moving I could keep the anxiety at bay. Moving became a prayer for me.

When I moved into my Casa Azul in May I had no room for an elliptical machine. Actually in my darling little casita I barely have room for my shoes, so I needed to come up with some other space friendly prayer practice that would deliver me from anxiety without taking up any square footage. Running was the obvious choice. From the first time I took a run I felt a kind of strength and power and freedom that propelled me forward in my own life. Maybe just fifteen minutes before I had begun the run I had been feeling doubt and fear—but once I began to run I became a strong woman who may or may not be related to Zeus and Hera. I was, even when I fell, a Wonder Woman when I ran.

On Sunday when I ran the seven miles I didn’t listen to the carefully crafted music playlist that I had created to accompany me through the run, instead I spent the first six miles thinking about the last nine months and how far I had come and how incredibly proud I am of myself and how much I love the life I have created for myself. It, my friends, was a much better and more motivating soundtrack than anything on my iPod. However, on my sixth mile I kind of hit a wall. You see, I didn’t do a few things I should have done to make the run a little easier for myself: 1) I didn’t hydrate before the run. Four shots of espresso do not count as hydration. Water might have been a better choice; 2) I ate only a half a protein bar prior to the race. A banana might have been a good addition to my pre-race meal plan in terms of giving me some potassium to help fuel me through the “I can’t” phase of the run; 3) I forgot to put sunblock on my arms so I couldn’t take of my Lulelemon jacket and it was a warm and sunny SoCal morning that most certainly did not require a jacket. Having the jacket on only added to my sense of being overheated; 4) I forgot my gum( For some reason I find chewing gum to be incredibly helpful when I run. I can’t even explain why. I just know that it works for me). When I hit the wall and was going up what felt like a steep incline( even though it was more of a mole hill that my fatigue was turning into a mountain) I had to go into “just one more step” mode. I told myself almost every step of that mile that I just had to take one more. I dug deep. I turned on the Rocky song on my iPod. I thought of Hillman. I thought of the money I raised and the people who believed in me enough to donate on my behalf. I thought of what waited for me at the finish line: The sense of accomplishment, a bottle of ice cold water and my darling boyfriend( not necessarily in that order). And I kept going, step by step.

When I arrived at the finish line I was very happy to be there. I was happy to be done with the run. I was happy to see my boyfriend’s smiling face. I was delighted that soon there would be blueberry pancakes with butter and syrup—and no guilt. However once I crossed the finish line I forgot about all that it had taken me to get there  and I suppose that is as it should be. I was enjoying the moment and the promise of pancakes. But now that I look back on the 10K and the last nine months, I see so many lessons that running has taught me. And I can see all that it took to get me through the marathon of the last nine months.

1) “I can’t” is usually a lie.

2) The pain of the moment does not last forever. If I keep moving the pain will change.

3) Pushing myself just to go a little bit further than I think I can will take me further than I can imagine.

4) I am strong. I can endure. A few falls can’t stop me.

5) I ALWAYS feel better after I have run. This is NEVER not true( sorry for the double negative). This parallels in my non-running life. I almost always feel better having done whatever I think is hard. Having done that hard thing almost always gives me a greater sense of freedom and relief and, on occasion, some endorphins.

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I want to thank all of you who supported my run. Thanks to you I was able to raise $880 for The Hirshberg Foundation For Pancreatic Cancer Research. Thank you Anna, Audrey, Daphne, Deni, Keith, Kristin, LeShaune, Laura, Leah, Lynn, Mary, Mona, Pam, R, Rabia, Sharon, Sheila, Susan B., Susan T., Stacy, Tom and Wendy S. Thank you so much!!!!!!! Your support means so very much to me. My goal was $1000. I am only $120 away from achieving it.If you didn’t donate and you would like to, you will be happy to hear that it is not too late. My fundraising page is still up and happy to accept donations.

So I’m dating a boy. Well, he’s not really a boy…he is more of a man. I suppose I could  even describe him as a mature man; 55 years old definitely qualifies him for man status. But for some strange reason it feels better to call him a “boy” when I tell people I am dating him. I say, when asked about why I look so happy, “I had a date with a lovely boy last night.” My co-workers then ask me how old this “boy” is and then I tell them that he is 55. I am usually beaming and smiling brightly when I say it. Happily my co-workers don’t correct me or disabuse me of the notion that I am dating a “boy”. They seem to get that when I call him a “boy” it is because something about dating this “man” makes me feel especially “girlish”. Dating him is fun and delightful and easy and fun( did I mention that already?).

Something you should know about this “boy” is that he knows about you. Yep, this “boy” knows all about you. He has read my blog. He is reading this post. And he has read the bulk of my blog, which is no small feat. He read a whole lot of my blog even before we had our first date. Back  in the days when my blog was written solely under a pseudonym and I anxioulsy guarded my real identity, I used to worry that patients or friends or family members might discover the blog and/or my real identity might be revealed. Never-ever-ever in a million years did I imagine that I would ever go out with someone who would find my blog on their own before we went out; never.

How did he find my blog? Well, he knew my La Belette Rouge email adress and he Googled “Belette” to figure out what it meant and he found my blog and he started to read it. And, as I already mentioned, even after reading my blog he STILL wanted to go out with me. Okay, let me say for the record, that I don’t think there is anything about me or the blog that would make a man want to run away from me—-it’s just that it is a whole lot for a man to know about me before our first date. It’s just odd for him to know so much about me without me telling him. I felt a bit vulnerable. In a lot of ways my blog is like my diary and it is an extraordinarily surreal experience to have a guy that I barely know reading such personal material. He—even before we sat across from each other for the first time— knew about Igor, Infertility, Lily, and my passion for high heels. He didn’t know about it because I told him but rather because he had read my blog. He had read posts that tell the story of  my life, the life I recently left and he even read about the guy I most recently dated—and he still wanted to go out with me.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be weird for him too. He has assured me that there is nothing weird about it. He likes my blog and he even has a La Belette Rouge app on his IPhone( how cute is that?). He also admitted that his having access to my blog has made him feel like he has known me longer than he has and that he likes that. And as for his feelings on me introducing him to you, this very cute boy has given me the green light to write about him. I think, he is sort of actually looking forward to me writing about him. He has been asking me when I am going to post next and I feel sure that he is wondering what part of our dates are going to show up in an upcoming post. However, I don’t know exactly how to write about him. It’s sort of odd to write about someone new in my life. We are just getting to know each other and I want to be respectuful of him and our developing relationship. I don’t want to write about anything that makes him feel the least bit uncomfortable. I told him that I would be highly respectful of him and our relationship in any and all writings and he said he already knew that about me. Nice, huh?

I was, I can tell you, a bit concerned about introducing him to you. We have only recently started dating and I didn’t want to introduce someone to you unless I felt pretty sure about him. Well, I’ll let you infer what you will from the fact that I am writing about him. I suppose I could have just not written about him….but that would feel odd too. He’s there in my life and to not write about him would feel somehow dishnonest. So, he’s here. He’s reading this. He’s reading me write about him. Yeah, that’s not weird. Ha!! Dating in the digital age is an entirely new ball game.

No, I’m not running away. Really, I’m not. I’m okay. In truth, I am better than okay. I am great. I’m sort of surprised by how great I am. Nothing like a little earthquake to make you appreciate solid ground and for the most part I am crazy with solid ground. I like my life. Actually, I love the life I have created for myself. And I have so much to be grateful for, if I am not careful this post will turn into a “Belette’s gratitude list” post and that is not why I am here today. I don’t mean to belabor the point but I am REALLY and TRULY happy to be rid of “Dear John”. I don’t want to waste a moment more on something that doesn’t allow me to be all that I am. So, “Dear John”, if you are reading this…thanks so much for doing me the favor of saying goodbye.

Okay, enough of that. Let me get to the point of this post, I am running a 10K on Halloween weekend( Now do you get the title of this post?). I am running the 2011 L.A. Cancer Challenge that supports The Hirshberg Foundation For Pancreatic Cancer Research. My hope is to raise at least $1000 and I am hoping you might help me achieve this goal.  No donation is too small and no donation too large( feel free to help me exceed my goal). I’ve never done anything like this before and promise I won’t do this too often( I don’t want to turn my blog into a fund raising format, as I don’t want to take advantage of you, my dear and generous readers).

You, dear reader, are sweeter than Halloween candy without the pesky calories or resulting tooth decay. All of your support on my last post helped me more than I can say. With that said, I feel a little guilty asking you for more—but only a little guilty as it is a good cause. If you would like to help support me in my “Running Scared Halloween Adventure” please click over to my donation page. Thanks in advance for your kind support, in this and in all things.