A Day

I feel it is okay to have a day. Whether it’s a day to yourself or to be sad, happy, to reconnect with nature, to eat a pint of ice cream, to sleep, to drink till you forget, the list continues. It’s okay to have a day. Don’t beat yourself up. Don’t regret your day; don’t be upset that you had it.

I am many things – Awesome, fragile, loving, supportive, petty, funny, smart, stupid, beautiful, etc., etc. I’m not one thing. I am a writer simply because it’s in my heart. Do I get published or even write much anymore, nope. Would I like to, yep but I’m not going to be upset with myself because of my time restrictions or lack of motivation. I can’t be mad at me all the time. Recently it’s been drawn to my attention that I am apparently a photographer too, though I am very, very hesitant to say that. I know many photographers and I by no means can compete with them but I am selling prints of my scenery so I guess I have to accept that I am what I am and that’s all that I am. I am a hula dancer. This I can say confidently. I’ve dance with 3 halaus and 1 group spanning 14 years. I am not a kumu, I would like to be someday, though. I’m just a little brown girl in a little grass skirt in love with my culture, my heritage and the graceful beauty that is hula dancing. I am a runner. No explanation needed, I hope. It took many people to make me realize what I am, what I have the potential to be and what I need to appreciate about myself.

My day today is a pitiful one. My husband and I just moved to California from Washington leaving behind, for me friendships that I cannot replace. Today he leaves for a 2-day trip. I’m alone with my dog in a house full of boxes. I miss my friends, my Washington sunrises, my husband and my crafts. There is the crushing weight of defeat pressing down on me today. This move was stressful our stuff got thrashed in the move, our financial situation is nonexistent, my job got reformed and I was fearing I’d lose it, there was a lot that went into this move. To top it off the move made running sort of null and void for a while and I find myself starting from scratch. Slowly building up my endurance again. My wrist and left hip are both damaged. Hula dancing is on the back burner as is photography. Writing has been on the back burner since 2006.

I feel off track, disassembled, lost. I’m allowing these feelings. I’m letting them happen. I’m letting them wash over me. I’m allowing all the fear, guilt, sadness and pain soak in through my skin. I’m giving myself this day because I know tomorrow is a new day. One where if I need to I will list the benefits of this move. Life is interesting it pulls a lot of magic tricks, a lot of suspense, a lot of pit falls. Give yourself a day to appreciate what you are truly feeling. Let it be one day, then wash that day right out of your hair and send it down the drain.

Something I wrote (somewhat) recently:

Other People

One of my favorite Photos I've ever taken:

5K Bomb - The Joys of Running

When I first started running, I got hooked very easily. There is a lot out there now for beginner runners. Marching to the beat of my own drum, I made up my own training regime and worked towards a 5K trail run 3 months away. I started on the treadmill but then quickly moved to trails once the weather got better. I like trails – no car exhaust, no one could see me, I can even sing out loud and bring my dog without fear. A few weeks before the run I was racking up serious miles – from 5.5 miles to my shortest runs which were now 4 miles. A 5K seemed a piece of cake, a walk in the park, easily accomplished. The day of the race approached.

As true Leila style, I arrived almost too late. Missed warming up and just went for it. For a girl who actively avoids people SEEING her run the race was honestly a nightmare for me. I had a running partner but before the first mile was done she was gone, ahead of me by leaps and bounds. I couldn’t control my heart rate as people passed me. My pace slowed, I saw their steely determination and clenched jaws, I freaked out. My heart pounded in my chest to the point it hurt and I was gasping, wheezing and no matter what I did – lowered my arms, focused on my breath, unclenched my fists, concentrated on deep full breaths – the hammering would not stop. About half way through the run I stopped, walked, shook, almost broke down and cried. I was better than this. I could run 3.1 miles on my WORSE days, 3 miles wasn’t even my short running days anymore.

I started running again but another mile into it a panic attack set it and I stopped to let what I considered “better runners” pass me. The runners were not friendly, they did not say thank you, they didn’t try to encourage me to continue they just glared at me and ran on. I knew my running partner had already finished the race and all I wanted was a redo or at least to be finished. I walked most of the last leg, only beginning to run again when the trail leveled off and I had a good distance between myself and the people in front or behind me. My running friend returned to my side when she saw me near the finish line. I was struggling. I was losing it and the last few feet to the finish line I almost got pushed out of the way by a guy in tight breathable running attire.  

It was embarrassing, it was a defeat and it scared me. It messed with my head. Correction: I messed with my head. All the encouragement in the world is not going to change the fact that I ran a horrible race where my mind took over instead of my capabilities. When you train for something for 3 months, when you attempt to do something YOU KNOW you can do well because you have worked so hard for so long at it and you watch your mind butcher your skill and your training into chopped liver, it’s mentally exhausting. It is a slap in the face.

There is always the easy way out – I could make up excuses. Instead of admitting that the race/ME freaked me out and got in my head, I could throw out excuses. I didn’t sleep the night before, I was dehydrated, I didn’t warm up or stretch, my foot hurt, etc, etc. But that is not what happened.

Instead of letting myself enjoy the run. I forced myself to see it as a competition where everyone was passing me and staring at me and judging me. Instead of enjoying the beautiful sunshine, Pacific NW trees and streams, I tortured myself focusing on the miles to go and how far I’ve gone and if I was done yet.

This race honestly scared me so much I toy with the idea of not running anymore. I loved having a set goal to work towards. The 5K was a great tool to keeping me motivated. However, since races apparently cause me to mentally shit myself, other than setting personal goals the only motivation is me and to be honest she is being a shaking child in the corner who just saw her dog get hit by a car. 

Right now, I feel a lot like my Tutu (grandmother), she fell about a year and a half ago at the age of 89 and broke her hip and had to get hip replacement surgery on her 90^th birthday. She got back to walking very quickly and still walks and swims. She confides in me she is terrified of falling down again and she’s shied away from walking.

Yes, I am over thinking my run, yes I was over thinking the run while I was doing the run and yes I scared  myself. However, the mind is more powerful than the body and no amount of encouragement or “but you finished” is going to change the rule mind over matter. If I have a mental block with running there is no fix, there is no cure, there is no miracle drug or stretch that will work. I can run and tell myself the entire time to enjoy it, but I won’t believe it.

Defeat is a luxury, it is a choice. I’m allowing myself to choose defeat for my first race, but I am holding strong to the belief that I won’t allow myself to quit. I quit too many things out of selfishness and sloth. I refuse to quit something that is healthy for me, something that I enjoy. My plan? To run. Perhaps by myself for a bit. Perhaps I’ll run that same 5K trail to show myself I can. I will sign up for another race. If it turns out I can’t mentally handle a race, then I just won’t do them. It will take me awhile to get my confidence back. It will take a lot of work to figure out why my mind has such a big role in my running. But I’ll get there; believe me I’ll get there, even if I have to run a marathon (by myself) to do it.

Pissing and Moaning

Once in awhile (sometimes more often than not) we just get those days where the weight of the world bears down on our chests. Where all the little things going wrong join forces and becomes one major weight and we wake up drowning. Today is one of my days like that. It’s like the all-day feeling of “did I leave the stove on?” Except it’s how will I ever find the money to pay things off and enjoy life?

ThinkGeek.com is the coolest

It’s not wanting to look at your bank account because you don’t want to see the measly $5 to last you until payday.  It’s falling in love with a Flying R/C Shark only to regret the purchase because that money could have gone towards any one of a trillion bills. Its feeling overweight, underpaid and more importantly you feel like you can’t breathe. Life presents a crushing, fatal heart aching defeat. You feel trodden under bills, wants, desires, dreams, obligations, expectations, impulses and pain. You don’t want to disappoint anyone. You want to enjoy the moment but in the back of your mind you’re calculating how you will ever be able to pay for this thing called life. You made some mistakes maybe, burned through some reserve cash. Maybe not even that you bought something necessary – a car, a house, a wedding and it’s when the total cost comes in the mail you realize, what have I done?

That was my feeling this morning as I poured over sites looking for affordable airfare to Orlando for my husband’s 30^th birthday. Then the button on my $70 jeans fell out, then the cost of the Orlando trip started adding up in my head as my car payments, large credit card debt and sad salary tagged themselves into the death match. Then the budget I set up to try and give my husband and I a cushion for his release from the Navy jumped in with a folding chair and started pinning me against the ropes. It was a day of defeat, of wanting to forego work to play Tetris online or maybe Scrabble. A day of wanting to cry bitter tears into a vat of chocolate flavored fat to console my fatty brain and soothe the money woes. A day of wanting to gripe and moan and cry over what went wrong.

Ah, love the great defeater of pain.

Instead of all that depression, I took a later lunch and jogged/walked 2 miles with my dog in the sunshine. My outlook is better. Sometimes you have to look not at the things that need to happen but at the things that are happening. I am lucky in many ways and foolish in other ways. I’ve learned life is a great bamboozler if you let it be. But I will pay down my debt, I will have a wonderful time in Orlando for my husband’s 30^th birthday and I will buy new jeans … While we’re at it I will lose weight and I will get a raise at work.  Life has a lot of ups and downs, shadows and sunshine it’s all where you stand and how far you want to walk. My journey’s not over yet.