It’s All About the Legs

Scott Rigsby’s legs…with him in them.

A mother and daughter waited anxiously for their autographed copy during the book siging.  They were greeted warmly by Scott Rigsby, with familiarity, warmth.  I stepped up to help take a photo of the three of them.  As I snapped, Scott said “You may want to back up a little.”  I asked why, noting that it was a lovely close up, all smiles. 

Scott said nothing, just smiled, gave a little shake of his head.  It took a beat, but I caught on. 

It’s all about the legs.  The close up didn’t show the legs.  They had come because of the legs.  The book was about the journey of losing legs, gaining legs, using legs.  Swimming legs, biking  legs, running legs.  Walking legs.  Sweaty legs.  Bloody legs.  Broken legs.

That’s how I first encountered Scott.  In 2007 I was racing in honor of my brother-in-law (Mike) and raising money for the MIF.  Just three months off knee surgery and with one herniated disk acting up I was pretty uncomfortable.  St. Anthony’s was more of a limp than a walk.  The song in my head:

I would walk a thousand miles.  A thousand miles, it’s true.  I would walk a thousand miles just to be with you. Well you’ve got my heart and you’ve got my soul and you’ve got this promise, too.  I would walk a thousand miles just to be with you. 

All the while I wondered if I was doing more “bad” than good.  Was I really doing anything for Mike?  Was I injuring myself even more?  Crap.  Toe hurts.  Think I’m losing a toe nail.  One thousand miles…blood in shoe.  Yup.  Toe nail gone.

I looked up, out of myself and saw a man holding on to a tree.  Handsome guy, just hanging out, holding up a tree.  I looked down to see that someone was duct taping his legs…one foot back together…the other leg, back on to his body.  “Tough day?” I asked, knowing that this guy would kill for a bloody toe-nail.  He smiled a little, gave a little shake of his head, laughed.  I finished my race, counting my blessings (as well as my good toe-nails) along the way.

For as much as I’ve told that story, I’ve thought of it more often.  It’s funny how such a brief moment can carry so much weight, how a glance can cause “someone” to be permanently imprinted on your brain.

In Ironman Florida 2008 I saw the smile and the laughing eyes as I walked into the night.

When a fellow athlete buckled and fell with cramping, I knew I could help.  I smiled as I put my own “duct tape” on their “broken legs”.

As I bent to help someone change their shoes, I gave a little nod and “taped” them on, good and tight. 

When I saw the cover of Scott’s book a smile quickly came to my face; I recognized him immediately. 

His legs are mere vehicles; they get him from one place to the next.  They help him get His work done.  Some of us have a vision and we find our vehicles.  Some get vehicles and discover a new vision.  From that we either sit and dream…or get up and make it our mission. 

What’s your duct tape?  Who’s taping you up, helping to hold you together?  How are you using the tools and the vehicles in your life?

 

The book is UnThinkable by Scott Rigsby.  It’s published by our friends at Tyndale House, so if you need a little duct tape, I’m sure there will be some spare!  I haven’t read the book yet, but of this I’m sure…

…it’s not always about the legs, Scott! 

“Damn those hamstrings!”

Yeah, a few of you have said that to me recently.  And a few of you have been on the table (or floor or pool deck or side of road) and I’ve said “Gee, it would be great if you could loosen those things up a little.

Yeah, YOU.  I can help, but you have to put in the time.  And that’s what we’re talking here.  Let’s say…five minutes.  Repeatedly.  Here’s the move:

Viparita Karani…that’s “legs up the wall” to the non-Sanskrit speaking people in the house.

First, wiggle your pelvis (butt, patooties, arse) into the wall.  I prefer a towel roll under the lumbar spine (just big enough to honor the natural curve, enough so the pelvis tilts forward).  When you’re ready, bring your feet up the wall.  For the entire hamstrings to lengthen, you need to keep the legs straight.  Keep backing away from the wall until you can do this.  For those of you with tight/forward shoulders, put a pillow under your head so you can get comfortable (and breathe…).

Here’s the “tough” part for some of you:  just lie there.  Yup, “just” stay.  You’ll feel the muscles start to stretch.  Remember, if you think the muscles are ripping, they probably are, so don’t do that.  Back off.  Just a comfortable, mild stretch.  After a little while, those muscles will lengthen…

…but you’re not done.  Now you’re getting into the deeper stuff.  The fascia.  The joints.  You may not know what this “stuff” feels like, so just lie there and try to enjoy the experience.  As always, if you think you are hurting yourself, back off.  (Remember the feeling of braces on your teeth?  The orthodontist would tighten a little, and you’d have some mild discomfort while the teeth moved.  It’s that same type of feeling.)

Do this regularly.  Like…daily.  Twice a day, especially if you are really experiencing hamstring problems.  Just be.

It’s about restoring the natural balance of your body.

“Aaaahh, those hamstrings!”

Yeah For Me!

Yeah for me!  I rode my bike today!  It wasn’t real fast, but that wasn’t really the point.  It was the first time I’ve been back on my bike in a couple of months.  I rode 40 miles.  And I got to ride with Hartley.  He’s training for IMFL; down to the last few weeks for him.  It was nice to be out there, give him some company for a bit of his ride…and just BE there!

Yeah for me!  I got new shoes.  I was really at Outspokin to get some cleats for my old (read: former) shoes, but these were screaming my name from the wall.  They were in my size, a real bonus.  I put them on and yelled “they fit!”, only to be told they needed to be heat molded to my foot.  I was sold.  Like butta’, I tell ya’!

And while I’m on the topic of Outspokin…I read on FaceBook that Val and Giant have helped a friend of mine.  Gus Ignas is, once again, doing a fundraising bike ride.   I know a lot of “us” have done things like this and know how difficult it can be to drum up support.  Gus never takes the easy way.  This year he is riding from Tampa to Miami to raise money for people living with ovarian cancer, and then will ride from Miami to Key West to support local AIDS charities.  Gus is a great guy, rides with all is heart and soul, and is one person who could really use the support!  Yeah for Gus!  And Yeah for Val and the gang!  (side note to Val:  I’m changing my nickname for you…)

Gus…charity bike rides…new shoes for me…new bike for him…two happy cyclists…all helped by one great shop.  Yeah.  Yeah!  YEAH!

That’s the balance we call the circle of life!

It seems like I’ve been here before; I can’t remember when.  But I have this funny feeling that we’ll all be together again.  No straight lines make up my life and all my roads have bends.  There’s no clear cut beginning and so far no dead ends.  All my life’s a circle…(Harry Chapin)

Balance. Love. Kevin.

He's Kevin Belton from The New Orleans School of Cooking, owner of Li'l Dizzy's Cafe at the Whitney. Human Taxidermist.

This is the new man of my dreams.  He’s got a little balance; he  balances me out a little.  He says he’s normal size and everyone else is just small.  I do believe this makes me petite!  His feet require a size 20 shoe; mine are elfin at size 11.  His large frame easily hold his 400+ pounds.  If I’m a Lady Clydesdale, he’s a Super-C and then some!

He teaches you to cook with butter and flour…I mean roux.  You feel the big hand on your shoulder, the love from his eyes, and the passion for all he does coming through his white jacket from his mammoth heart.  He cooks.  He teaches technique.  He educates on history.  He shares.

And he loves.

And that balances the calories, you know.

P.S.

  Pomfret School.  I was reminded of the place just last week…back when I was listening to those cassette tapes.  Back when I was having the memories of good and the flashbacks of  not-so-good times.  Back when I decided that I would rather be “here” than “there”.

The truth of the matter is that I think of PS quite often, and it never actually sends me into a state of apoplexy.  I think of it whenever I look at my business logo, which was designed by Nathalie.  Everyday I look at the little metal sculpture that David gave me prior to leaving the school.  The “(insert your full name) is” statements pop up regularly on Facebook, as do pictures of (insert your full name)’s present life…the Tobys and the Judys and the Erics and the Malcolms.

And as lovely fate…or balance…would have it, Jennifer sent a FB message.  She was actually LOOKING for cassette tapes to play!  In her collection of mixed tapes she found a silly gift from me, one in which I had read bed time stories.  She said she appreciated hearing my voice and having the memory.

As did I.  As do I.

P.S.  I love you.

Cairn

I think it’s funny how stability “happens” when we really need it.  When we need something to stand the test of time, we assure a firm foundation.  We carefully build, double checking the plan.  There is no such thing as instant gratification.  The process is often slow but it brings us pleasure…we dream of things to come.

There are avenues in my life that could use a little more stability.  I chose to work on the base, the fundamentals.  I will build as if my life depended on not taking a wrong turn.  I will mark the path, honor the gift of the journey itself.

Of Karma and Quail

Today I massaged two people, one who cuts my hair and one that colors it.  I should be stunning by tomorrow afternoon.  My colleague next door and I have been working on trade for as long as we’ve known each other.  She rubbed my thigh so hard that the leftover leg lump from February’s bike crash should be gone by the end of the week.  I’ll reciprocate Thursday.

I encountered a young woman at the yoga studio today.  We randomly started talking at each other.  I knew little more than her first name.  As we went about our tasks she told me how she was training for a half marathon, that she has raised thousands of dollars for charity, that she has bad shin splints, that she has spent a small fortune on doctors, and that she is quite disheartened.  What I said to her was “You should come see me”.  What I meant to say was “Listen, I know exactly what you’re going through, and I know how you feel.  I can help you try to feel a little better.  Let me just do this for you; you deserve it for all your efforts.”  As we walked toward my appointment book she starting talking about her blog.  She has 900 million readers (or 90,000 or 90; more than I can comprehend).  She is a professional blogger.  She asked me how much I charged—it was going to be my gift to her—and I told her I charged “blogging lessons”.  She giggled, and told me she could do that.  Well, it took a little convincing.  She’s young.  She’ll get it some day.

Later in the day an old friend called.  I haven’t seen him in a year, and it had been a couple of years prior to that since we had even spoken.  It was, he explained, a completely odd phone call.  Seems he’s been dealing with some “life” stuff  and has decided that he doesn’t really want to live alone for a while.  The thought of taking on roommates as an adult was laughable, but somehow, for some reason, I came to his mind.  So he thought he would call.  “Random”,  he said.  “Crazy?”, he wondered.

Not really.  Not random.  Not crazy.  I have Chinese drywall in my townhouse, which means they’ll tear it down and start from scratch.  It means I’ll have to find someplace to live for three months or so.  I means I should actually be out looking for some place to hang my hat while all my things are in storage.

There are things we are taught and grow to understand conceptually.  What goes around, comes around. There are things we understand.   To everything there is a season. We believe.  We have faith in the perfect balance of it all.

And at some point we just know.

Here we are alone in a desert

Fed dusk to dark, dawn to day.

Every morning we’d wake up

To find just our measure

Of food that we’d need for the way.

Once we would ask

If we could have more

To see that our future survived.

We’ve learned now at last that nothing is sure

‘Cept that at evening the quail will arrive.

The quail came… (MKB)

Gladly Out of Whack!

Enjoying my view?

It’s summer, which means it’s triathlon season.  I should be outside doing something, anything.  I should be enjoying my peeps, hanging with the gang, enjoying the sweaty fury of it all.  I should be listening to the (gentle?) pitty-pat of my (little?)  running shoes on the trail.  I should be zoning to the quiet whirrrrrr of by bike wheel.

But I’m not.  I’m in my garage.  On my bike trainer.  It’s crazy hot, but the whirrrr of the plastic fan blades is keeping me company.  In the distance there are voices of unknown neighbors walking their dogs.  There’s a train that I don’t have to stop for.  It’s my third “ride” since I’ve been “allowed” (read: able) to get back on my bike.  (I’m up to an hour with no particular ramifications!  Yay for me!)  The music from my cassette player blares in the background.

Yeah.  Cassette player.  Remember them?  I threw away all but two tapes years ago.  These two I just couldn’t seem to part with.  I stumbled upon them today so am listening happily.

It doesn’t really matter WHAT the music is, it just brings you back to a time, a place.  I’m happy as I remember the friends who introduced me to the singer.  I smile as I try to remember the words, the harmonies, the chord changes.  And then I remember what was going on in my life at that point.  I was experiencing that angst that goes along with the 20’s decade.  Right career path?  Right man?  Fulfilling life?  Feelings if discontent?  And that stupid eating disorder.  I’m digging the music, but not all the memories.

It’s endurance season.  I’m an “endurance athlete”.  Whirrrr.  Pitty-pat.  Lull to zone out.  Time to think what I’m running from, who I’m biking for, where I’m swimming to,  why…

And despite the fact that it’s “season” and I’ve missed it, I’m incredibly content.  Today’s ride has taught me that I’d rather have one completely missed triathlon season (crash, injuries, surgery and all) than go back to my 20’s decade.  I know that one bad triathlon season is better than one great day of bulimia.  Although I feel a little out of whack…and sometimes completely whacked…I’d rather be right here, right now in my life than somewhere else.

Thanks for the memory, Michael Kelly Blanchard.

For you are timeless and part of a puzzle, you are winsome and young as a lad.  And there is no disease or no struggle that can pull you from God.  Be Ye Glad

Blistering Speed…

…and I only use the term “blistering” because somehow in my slogging along there was some chafing somewhere and I’m sure I have a blister…

Yup, today was my first day back running.  Or even wearing running shorts, for that matter.  After yoga with Kris and Tammy Greene I sauntered around  the neighborhood, through the woods, over the creek, and into my fields.  And I ran.  Not real pretty.  Not real long.  Managed 30 minutes, needed some breaks, and averaged  11:11/mile.

Thanks, Mr. Garmin, for the information.  Sometimes it’s better to just “DO” and not “KNOW”.  But at least I have a starting point and something from which to measure.

And in the words of my high school chemistry teacher:

Here we go, here we go, here we go…

Remember the joke about the farmer who was outstanding in this field?   I was out standing in my field.  It was outstanding.  I was outstanding.

I am outstanding.  In my field.

On the road of experience I’m trying to find my own way.
Sometimes I wish that I could fly away
When I think that I’m moving suddenly things stand still
I’m afraid ’cause I think they always will

And I’m looking for space
And to find out who I am
And I’m looking to know and understand
It’s a sweet sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
And sometimes I’m deep in despair

All alone in the universe, sometimes that’s how it seems
I get lost in the sadness and the screams
Then I look in the center, suddenly everything’s clear
I find myself in the sunshine and my dreams

And I’m looking for space
And to find out who I am
And I’m looking to know and understand
It’s a sweet, sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
And sometimes I’m deep in despair

On the road of experience, join in the living day
if there’s an answer, it’s just that it’s just that way

When you’re looking for space
And to find out who you are
When you’re looking to try and reach the stars
It’s a sweet, sweet sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
But sometimes I’m deep in despair. (John Denver)

Monday, 8/31/09

Ebb and Flow

I’ve recently got back from a quick trip to Cape Cod to see the family.  While away my head was spinning with things to write about.  Walking the beach allowed my mind to be filled with philosophical musings.  Sitting in the warm sand gave me time to take in a slice of Americana.  My auto-pilot-work-brain was generating new training activities for adults as I watched children fly kites, do cartwheels, drag wagons, make sand castles, and generally flit from one activity to the next on the wide open expanse we call “beach”.

I thought to take more photographs of our beach in Dennis, MA, but didn’t.   I walked for as many miles as my body would allow (stitches…healing…recovering).  So many times I stopped just to spin around and around so I could take in the entire beach.  Living in Tampa Bay and beaching it on the Gulf of Mexico, one never really gets to see a good low tide.  Yeah, you can tell the water goes out, but it’s a dinky little effort compared to what I grew up with.  One morning I walked 400 steps straight out from the high tide line before I hit water.  And it was still more than an hour until low tide!  It was 8:00 am and incredibly foggy.  Coolest thing…you could barely see 20 yards ahead.  Very few people.  I could walk and walk without encountering any footprints of the walkers before me.  Cool.  No…wicked cool (hey, it was Massachusetts).

And then came low tide.  Everyone had to sit on the soft sand between the dunes and the water.  You gotta’ love sitting with strangers, because your towels were lined up with somebody else’s.  And I hope you like their kids, because all towels look alike to them so they just may end up sitting one yours.  Cell phone conversations…amazing how many presidents and kings are sitting on the beach.  I mean, if these people didn’t handle business calls (loudly, to boot) entire countries and Fortune 500 companies would fail.  Well, that’s how it sounded, at least.

Just like the beach is only available to us with the ebb and flow of the tides, my visit was filled with the same.  Hurricane Bill “threatened” as they closed the beach…and then he was a no-show.  President Obama left the mainland for the Island and took with him traffic and paparazzi…and then Senator Kennedy passed away and and it all returned.  It was “unseasonably hot and humid”…and then the temperatures dropped.  I walked and enjoyed low tide.  MY low tide.  The low tide with which I’m familiar and happy, with all the sand, with all the space, with the smell of the bay.

It’s nice how some tides stay out for a long, long time!

Tuesday, 8/18/09

Pose Off…stability or mobility

So as I mentioned, I’ve been sitting around (call it lounging, sitting is not my strong suit just yet) whilst “recovering”.  I was studying some yoga stuff and found myself staring a photo.

Now, I’m not exactly a physics type of gal.  Didn’t get it so much in high school, nearly flunked it in college, and I cringe when I have to teach it to students.  That said, I was having some major flashbacks to force diagrams.  You know (maybe you don’t), those diagrams with all the arrows marking out all the…forces.  See, I can’t even explain it well.

The anatomist in me was just marvelling at a shot of Virabahdrasana III, or Warrior III.  All the “forces”.  For this woman to maintain balance and stability here’s what has to perform work:  right anterior tibialis to keep foot flexed, right  hamstring and glutes to keep hip extended, back extensors, shoulder extensors, neck extensors, left gluteus medius to keep her standing, abdominals and deep anterior/core to keep her aligned.  And that’s just to fight gravity.  As she starts to teeter or sway many of the opposing muscles come to the rescue.  Energetically she has to act like one of Professor Higgins’ Push-Me-Pull-Me’s; hands pulling forward as leg extends to the rear.

All that to stay balanced.  Stability.

And then the athlete side of me started to take over.  I know, you don’t expect one to go into Warrior poses as they approach the football field.  Heck, they don’t even do it in Sumo Wrestling (do they?)  But they DO do it in skating…pretty much.  Check Michelle Kwan, the master of the spiral.   Here she is in a right forward inner edge spiral.  She uses pretty much the same muscles as the Warrior above, with only a few adjustments for artistic impression.  And she does it while flying down the arena.  All while teetering on a small piece of skinny blade.

So who has it tougher?

Which one would you rather be responsible for trying?

SCALES

THE HEAVY SIDE OF THE SCALE…

I’ve had this weight dragging me down for the last few months.  Yeah, I’ve had a little indecisiveness, a little injury, a few too many plates spinning, and a little lack of purpose.  None of those compare to the weight of…

A giant cyst.

OK, I admit that it’s not exactly the size of a goiter or grapefruit or grand piano, but it’s been a real pain.  Every article of clothing I own rubs against it.  Cycling is nearly impossible.  Even work and swimming irritate it.  Any other news about the thing would be TMI.

In as much as I love summer, there is much about the last few months I have not enjoyed.  See list above.  And I ADORE the sunny months.  I like the heat, I like to sweat, I like reading at the beach, and I love triathlon.  I’ve spent too much time moping around this season.

THE LIGHT SIDE OF THE SCALE…

Yesterday I had the bloody thing removed.  Again, any more on that would be TMI (my apologies to those who listened to “my wacky day with the wacky surgeon” story).  I really didn’t have any idea how much this thing was dragging me down!  Who knew that this tiny pocket would weigh 20 pounds and I’d have to haul it around on a run.  I had no idea that it would collapse a lung so I couldn’t breathe when riding.  That it could make swimming an absolutely downer (drowner?) or make me completely wonky and tip me over in yoga amazes me.  The “dot” in my yin has morphed and taken over.

OK, I made all that stuff up.

But that’s what I was feeling.  Now I’m lighter, more free, full of smiles, and can breathe a little easier about the days to come.

SO IT’S ALL ABOUT BALANCE

Yup, exactly what I set out to write about all those months ago.  Tough to write about it when you feel like you’re not in it.  I’m in.  I’m back.

At least for today.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:  a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace…He has made everything beautiful in its time. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-11)

I met a man the other day who came looking for the ability to focus.   From his appearance one would think this guy has it all together.  He’s nice looking, well groomed, in great shape, and well spoken.  But he said he lacked the ability to focus…and for some reason I felt as if I understood that.

I turn to the Trinity.

God Is.  God is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Each of these three things alone is not God.  God is all three of these.  Together.  He sits in the center of it all.

I Am.  I am body, mind and spirit.  All things physical, cognitive, and emotional.  The shape of my body does not define me.  My thoughts affect me but do not explain me completely.  I may be brilliant in one area of my life, but not all.  And I happily rest in the middle of this.

As it is with the basics of so many things, it’s all about the balance.  Take a look at the “modern day” wellness wheel.   We are each our own person, made up of many different aspects.  My sport is one mere aspect of my personality, my friends help to define my life, my emotions change with the circumstances, and my nutrition is only one thing that keeps me healthy.  Put them all together and you get ME; to look at only one aspect is to see me from a false view.

And for me to only adress one aspect makes my wheel…well, not a wheel anymore.  The outer limits of my shape would be changed.

Which gets me back to the focus.  Focusing on one aspect of your makeup doesn’t work for long.  The wheel changes shape, and the cart crashes.  The focus is still the single point in the middle…ME.  Myself.   One entity.  Although many things go into the making and the defining of ME, the focus is still the single point in the middle.   Keeping the wheel turning.  The perfect axis.

Not always effortless, but when it gets turning, it’s a beautiful thing!