Change in the Winds

Change is necessary in life. It’s good. It’s bad. It has its moments. It can tear you apart or put you back together. I am not afraid of change. I embrace it. The Good, The Bad, The Ugly it adds to my character and develops me as a person.

   

Last night my husband told me he accepted a job offer. It’s for a company that the more he gets to know the more he smiles when he talks about them. My husband has hated his job for 9 years; I want him to know what it feels like to be with a company you can stand behind. To be proud of your work, to look forward to the mornings. I wanted him to be happy.

To work for this company means leaving my beloved Pacific Northwest and heading below the mist into the golden state. At first I was devastated I’ve made Washington my home in many, many ways. Then I realized we are what we make of our surroundings and our actions. California is where the job is. It doesn’t mean we have to stay there forever and it doesn’t mean we had a choice in the matter. We would have loved to stay in Seattle or Portland but we go and do what we can and what is best for us as a couple. My husband is a great man and I will always stand behind him, just as when I need it, he will stand behind me. A move is not the end or a beginning. It's just change. This move will be our first as a married couple.

This morning I went for a run. It was dark, even with my head lamp. It was chilly, even with my layers. There was no wind and no sounds. I began running and let my mind flood with emotions and thoughts and worries and everything else. Those four miles became 40+ minutes of pure mental flow. At one point I looked up at the sky. The clouds had parted and there was nothing but stars above me and my feet pounding below me. My layers melted away as my body warmed up. I ran and I ran until the sky lightened, my brain was happy and  my view on the move shifted.

Panting, I was stretching out next to my car when I noticed not only my breath steamed and dissipated in the cold but my whole body steamed, radiated and flowed out into the universe. It was as though my soul was exhaling. I smiled.

I’ll Never be THAT Person

******Warning I’m still (hopefully forever) on a health kick so this is a exercise post not a post about me realizing my dog obsession or my husband obsession makes me THAT person******

When I first started running, I always said I would never be THAT runner. You know the one. The one that runs in the pouring rain. The one that runs on a busy road for all the world to see. The one that runs up hills and blows a neck vein.

Can you see the fear?

These people were obsessed, crazy, stupid. Why, would you do that? I would watch them from my car as I drove by, poor schmucks. Hitting the pavement in the rain. I could almost see their neck veins straining up that hill. Idiots, all of them. I would watch. I would look at the ladies who needed better sports bras, the men who were taunt, I would study their form, pass judgment and say, “THAT will never be me.”

I am a self conscious runner. The reason I went from the treadmill to the trails is because I don’t like people SEEING me run. There are things moving and sometimes my form is off and let’s just say I am a nervous wrecking ball and I usually batter myself against myself until I fall down.  Running brought out a lot of insecurities about my body image, my looks, my facial expressions, my running form, everything.

This is why, when I ran my first 5K race, I bombed it. Everyone could see me. The woods are my time to be alone and carefree and people were all up in my personal bubble. However, I worked with myself and on myself and 2 weeks later I was able to run an entire 5-mile road race with an average pace of 10 and a half minutes per mile and I smiled almost the whole time.

Can you see the joy?

Last night, it was a typical Pacific Northwest evening full of gray clouds and falling rain.  As I laced up my running shoes and put on my windbreaker, I hoped the drizzle would remain a drizzle. I walked almost a mile down my hill. While stretching, I sighed, so much gray. I started running through downtown Kingston then out onto the highway then humped it up a gradient hill I kept trudging and huffing and puffing and slowing down and speeding up. I did loops and turns, hills and descents. At the end, I ran four miles in the rain on the side of busy roads, up hills. I had become THAT person and not just THAT person but a person who then walked almost a mile uphill to get home.

As I was running, my legs still store from my 5-mile race 3 days earlier, I thought about all the cars passing me. All the people that could see me. They could be criticizing my form, making fun of me, shaking their heads in disdain. They could be doing all the things I used to do when I saw someone running on the side of a busy road. Normal Leila would have let her crazy neurotic brain take over and make her turn around and go home. But Runner Leila, Runner Leila had an epiphany.

They can stare, they can honk, they can click their tongues, laugh and shake their heads. The bottom line is I am doing something to better myself. I am doing something either they can’t do, would like to do or wish they could do. Let them criticize. I may be wet, sore and tired after my run but I did it with only myself and my motivation fueling me up that hill or in that rain or where you can see me. Bottom line, I’m awesome and I know it.

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.

Between Trails and Treadmills (Hips and Dips!)

Confused by that title? I know, but all will make sense soon. One of the nerdy things my husband has to put up with are my weird obsessions. I’ve embarked on running for the second time in my life. The first time I didn’t get very far before a roller derby injury flared up and I lost all my running abilities when I could barely walk for a month. My other obsession that I’ve rekindled is hula dancing. I danced in a traditional hula halau (troupe) for 10 years on Oahu. When I moved to North Carolina I danced with another halau for 3 years. These are two things I love and have let, for more than once in my life, consume me.

Poulsbo Beer Run

“You can’t outrun death.” These are the inspiring words my husband leaves me with as I tie my running shoes. It makes me laugh. I started running to lose weight and I’ve kept running because it makes me feel…amazing (plus I’m still losing weight). I made up my own program or routine for running. I set weekly goals that alternate between distance and time and give myself 3-4 days a week to accomplish them. For instance, when I first started my week's goal was to run a quarter of a mile. The following week was to run 5 minutes. If I didn’t reach a goal in a week I would repeat the goal. This week my goal is four miles next week my goal is 50 minutes. It’s taken me almost 3 months to get to this point of running. 

Here is what I have learned about running these 3 months:

Patience and dedication are important. If you want to run, know that it won’t happen overnight that it will take sweat and even (in my case) tears. I cry over spilt milk. I cry when my goals aren't met. It’s a slow build and you will get totally frustrated with your body some days. You will want to quit, almost every day. If you take 2 weeks off from running you will probably lose major progress. 

BREATHE. Breathing shallow quick breaths will mess you up. If you’re starting to get tired or there are pains and you want to keep going, focus on your breath. Make sure you are taking deep full breaths and if you’re really struggling do that whole in through the nose out through the mouth thing. It sounds obvious, but it’s not when you run 2.5 miles and you feel like you are going to die but you know you can go further it’s probably because you are wheezing like an old man having sex.

Shoes (Oh My God Shoes!). Good shoes are important and expensive but worth it. Whether you want to go minimalist or want arch support go to a local running store get your gait test done and get advice on what you should be running in because the last thing you want are busted ankles and shin splints.

You will have off days. You will have days where you want to run and you’re psyched to run but you can’t seem to get through it and it makes you want to punch babies…that’s normal, hey, tomorrow is another day use the pain to remind you to stretch or take a day off but just avoid babies.

Don’t run back to back to back. Let your ankles, calves and shins rest once in awhile. If you do want to run everyday built up to it real, real slow like.

People will discourage you and misguide you (not on purpose…usually). There’s a lot of misinformation about running thanks to the world wide web. If you want to run, listen to your body and drown out anything or one else. People will tell you it’s bad for your knees, to land on the balls of your feet instead of your heels, to run barefoot, to run on sand, to run 3 days in a row, to never run downhill, etc etc. Maybe they are all right, bottom line, do this for you and listen to how your body responds. If you run on your heels and the next day your ankles feel like you dragged yourself out of that prison in the Count of Monte Cristo while having a ball and chain attached to both feet, maybe don’t run like that anymore.

Given the expense of shoes, the constant vigilance and the heartbreaking defeat you might be asking “why would anyone do this?” I get it running is not everyone’s deal and some people can’t do it at all. Personally, I do it because the victories are worth the defeat. The feeling I get every week when I accomplish a goal have kept me on the path of health and happiness. Because after a long fulfilling run, I sleep like a baby and am amazingly happy for days. Also, it gets my mind to stop talking to itself. It’s very zen. I can’t think about anything but what I am doing. It’s my hour of peace.

I started running on a treadmill and I actually preferred it for the first month and a half. Yes, at the gym there are weirdos but I know my exact running time and distance. I usually watched TV and kind of zoned out and thought that was easier. As the weather started to get better in the Pacific northwest I was able to run outdoors more. I hate running on main roads. I don’t like people to see me running because I’m slow and probably pretty awkward looking. I chose to do trail runs. Single track is preferred. It was harder at first. There was no TV distraction, the trails required more effort and hills suck. Soon, however, the world started being my distraction and I found I could run further because I focuses solely on running. Now on the TV or how do I look because people can see me. Just on running.

I take my dog and my million-volt flashlight/stun gun and I brave muddy sometimes hilly uneven trails in the woods. I am crazy for it. There’s nature and fresh air (no car fumes or canned air) and I can take my dog with me and it mellows me out. I now prefer trail runs. Don’t get me wrong I still run at the gym on treadmills but for longer runs outside is the way to go otherwise you get people waiting for you to get off the treadmill just staring at your butt…awkward.

Finally, onto my second obsession: hula. Not only is hula a good workout and teaches you control while it strengthens your core, but it is beautiful. To dance is to tell a story. A story about my wonderful home.  I was born and raised in Hawaii. I am Hawaiian. I am the only one of my sisters to stick with hula and to continue to take an interest in it. I am one of 4 girls. 

I'm so precious

There is elegance, grace and symbolism in hula. Every movement is a word. Every word tells a tale. Every hip bump and dip is expressive. I adore it to the point I’ve started teaching the basics to a select few who need help. I am in no way a “Kumu” or esteemed teacher. I can choreograph songs, perhaps, but I honestly would prefer not to.  I would love to someday BE a Kumu but I would need to train under a Kumu I trust and learn a lot of songs.  I’ll get there at some point in my life, but until then I just enjoy being able to move with music again and to share in the bond of dancing in a halau. There is a sisterhood with hula it brings you close to your group and you glean off each other.

To me, hula is not just my heritage and a connection to my roots and my home. It is an art form. It is a way to tell a tale. It takes my breath away. I dance because I am enamored with it, because I enjoy it. Because my face lights up when my hips sway and my hands tell you about my aina (land).

Baby Leila in her hula outfit

Yes, my body is sore the next day from dancing and yes it makes me sweat and it challenges me but it is a fundamental part of me. It has developed into who I am and I love myself for it. YOU can hula. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. It doesn’t matter the color of your skin or your dancing experience. If you carry aloha in your heart you should be allowed to express it.

My husband has to deal with listening to the same Hawaiian song over and over again, with watching me shuffle across the floor over and over again, with random slips into pidgin and the complicated Hawaiian words I speak. He also has to deal with me leaving him on the weekends and during the weeks to run for 2 hours or with my constant discussing about my upcoming “races” or what shoes to buy or do I need a heart rate monitor or do I need some new fangled exercise gadget. He puts up with a hot mug of crazy every night as we settle into bed because while I obsess over running and hula my main obsession is him. Every night, I can’t settle into sleep unless some part of me is touching him. Even if it’s just my pinky finger grazing his arm. I have to be near him. The nights we’re away from one another my dog is a poor substitute (fur is truly not the same as skin).

I have these nerdy, consuming obsession with running and hula, two almost complete opposites - one is endurance and strenuous and one is graceful and elegant. But my true obsession lies in life. In my husband, in my dog, in my work and myself. Living life everyday is my main obsession, won’t you join me?

Dancing Ke Aloha for my Husband at our wedding!