A Racing Mind

Remember what I loved so much about rowing?

No? Well allow me to quote myself: "...what struck me is how mentally engaged you need to be. I swear, when I am on the boat, I am too busy thinking about where my hands should be, whether I’m keeping up with the pace, or where my oar is to think about anything else. Two hours where I’m not thinking about work, relationships, money, responsibilities, world peace, or the apocalypse? Sign me up, Sally."

Some of my friends talk about how meditative a run can be for them. That is not what running does for me.

This is what my first round of intervals sounds like in my head:

Okay, doing good. I love running. Chest up, shoulders back and down.
Am I putting equal weight on my right foot? I think so, but I can never tell.
Remember to breathe. Breathe in, in, in. Out, out, out, out.
Seriously, that was only 30 seconds?
Don't look at the time.
I'm bored.
Think about something else.
Think about shoes. Think about clothes.
Play that game where you think about the prettiest dress ever.
I'm hungry.
I'm sweaty.
My ear phones are going to fall out.
I really need to send that email first thing in the morning.
I should stop and set an alarm to remind myself.
Shut up and run.
Ugh. Seriously. Only 1 minute?
I wonder if I'm a super loud runner. I wonder if everyone can hear me running?
I think I can hear myself running.
That guy is going 5.8, so I'm pretty much beating him.
Yeahhhh, 50 Cent. I like this one.What up, gangsta?
It would be so like me to start rapping out loud right now IF ONLY I COULD BREATHE.
Breathe in, in, in. Out, out, out, out.
I think I'm running really loud right now?
I want a margarita.
I want a cupcake.
I bet I could make a vegan cupcake that tasted like margaritas.
What kind of flour would I use?  
I should buy a book of riddles to read before I run so my mind is occupied. 
I'm bored.
Oh man, that guy is going 7 now. He's totally beating me.
Screw you, guy, you and your stupid man metabolism and man quads. 
I like your t-shirt, though.
Think about something else.
Do NOT look at the time. Seriously, Bobbi Marie, do not--
okay, only 2 more minutes left. It could be worse. 
Oh shit, it's definitely 3 minutes left.
I think I can do it.
You know you can do it.
I'm thirsty.
I should probably buy new running pants to reward myself. 
I like Target. Maybe I really should open up a store account. 5% off running pants every day!
Shoulders back and down. 
In, in, in, in. Out, out, out, out.
This is my reward. I feel excellent.
I feel like I'm going to die.
I think I need to stop.
I need to stop.
Keep going. I'm totally fine.
Oh seriously Eminem, a freaking slow beat NOW?
[Trying to hit Next whilst running] Oh, I'm going to die, I'm going to fall and die and 7 man is going to laugh and point.
Yeahhhh G Unit. 
That's the perfect beat. Thanks, Pandora. 

Propaganda

OWWW my shins.
60 seconds more.
WHY DID YOU LOOK!
Think about purple skinny jeans, think about Jake Gyllenhaal, think about Europe. 
My hair is falling down. It's falling. down. now.
Try not to think. 
What else is there to think about?
Freaking 30 seconds, seriously whose idea was this?
I hate this. Freaking 5k my tush. I prefer the couch.
15. more. seconds. 
In, in, in, in. Out, out, out, out.
WHY ISN'T IT VIBRATING!!!
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, Australian Lady. 
I'm dying. And my hair is falling dowwwwn.
[Vibrates. "Walk," said in the calmest Australian voice ever.]
FREAKING FINALLLY. Down down down down aahhhhh 3.5. 
My calves are so TIGHT.
I am the queen of the world. I conquer all. 
Even walking sucks.

Of course this repeats and I only become more more neurotic as the intervals go on.

This is all to say that "training" is going as well as can be expected. My body is keeping up and my mind, well, my mind is winning the race.

30-Before-30 Check-In: 66.6%

Oh, sweet 29. Hello. Welcome. I’m ready for you. (Maybe not the fine lines around my eyes that you’ve brought along with you, but I’ll forgive your rudeness just this once).

Last year, when 28 walked in with hoards of grey hair, I wasn’t feeling much like company. My back pain was intense, I was feeling stuck in a lot of ways, and I wasn’t at peace with the changes happening around me. Yes, I had just begun to feel gratitude despite all of it, and that helped a bit, but I wasn’t really happy. I wasn’t joyful. I didn’t feel free. 

The ol' 365, one trip around the sun, and I feel fantastic. I’m exploring a new city, my body is my own again, I’m working for an inspiring university in a role that plays to my strengths among a fantastic team. I’m really freaking happy, and sometimes it startles me. 

There have been a handful of times in my adult life where I felt a feeling wash over me like, “This. This is where I’m supposed to be. It all makes sense now.” One was walking down my street in New York: This. This is where I’m supposed to be. The painful breakup that ended the relationship that was holding me back, even though I loved him? That makes sense now. One was getting out of my car in my driveway, two weeks after I bought my house: This. This is where I’m supposed to be. The struggle in college to proclaim my major, and then the struggle to earn a living as a writer? That makes sense now.

 

They were few and far between, but they were like guideposts. Keep going. 

These days, I feel that feeling wash over me on a weekly, if not daily, basis.

At the gym, on Week 3 of Couch to 5k: This. This is where I am supposed to be. That two years of hell and all the tears in the Medical Center parking lot? All the days crying alone in my room because it hurt to get out of bed? That makes sense now. I appreciate every stride. 

On the train, on my way to work, with someone’s armpit in my face while I try desperately to hold on to the rail and keep my balance: This. This is where I am supposed to be. The four years I spent wrestling with should-I-stay-or-should-I-go? The pain-in-the-ass juggle of job hunting, apartment hunting, house renting? That makes sense now. I appreciate every single thing about this city. I own my being here 100%. 

At work, when someone praises my work or gives me thoughtful feedback? At home, after a long day, when I read the dog walker’s sweet note about how well Henley behaved? When I look in the mirror and see the pounds melting away and I realize that I haven’t had any digestive distress in 22 (!!!!) days? Worth every late-night rush to meet a deadline, chewed up cell-phone, and cheese-less gluten-free meal. 

All of this to say, at 29, I feel grounded, but weightless and free. I feel pretty fine for 29. (Rhyme alert!)

The lessons learned are that it’s true what they say: Everything makes sense someday. Sunny skies are around the corner. You can live without cheese. And, without hesitation, pursue your freaking dreams while you can.

So where am I on my journey to 30 things? Well, this year was busy, let’s start there. I was addressing all of the above. Most of my money was tied up in other things. That being said, I managed to knock a few things loose: 

1. Work for someone with vision. (If this turns out to be myself, then so be it.) Yup.
2. Re-learn French. // I've got to dig out those CDs.
3. Get microdermabrasion.
4. Take guitar lessons // Getting on it.
5. Learn to sew. // On the Christmas list.
6. Buy a great sofa.
7. Hang old family photos and create a space for new memories in my stairwell. Donzo.
8. Teach at the college level. // Eh, we'll see. I think I might need to move this over to my life list.
9. Pay off my debt to my parents (and therefore become debt-free, other than mortgage and student loans). // This should be interesting, given the medical bills, but never say never.
10. Get a tattoo. // I'll be tackling this one soon.
11. Teach Henley a new trick. // Shake, baby, shake.
12. Watch the sun rise and set consecutively with someone special. Ahem, somebodies.
13. Plant something in my yard. // I planted bulbs last year, but they're under 2 feet of snow right now.
14. "Study" photography, get a half-decent camera and learn Photoshop. // Funny as it sounds, I feel like I'm making progress on my iPhone, learning about photo editing. But, I did learn Photoshop for work, so check it off. Camera to come!
15. Go on a backpacking trip. // You can backpack in Denver, right? ;)
16. Join a rowing club. // Done.
17. Donate my hair to Locks of Love // Oh, dear. The thing is...I really want to cut my hair, and I don't think it's long enough to donate and not look like a first grader. I'm really trying to hold out.
18. Sell a piece of refinished furniture // It wasn't how I imagined the scenario to be, but I did sell the pink desk and green chair to a friend! Things have a funny way of working out.
19. Thank my English Teachers. // Check out all 9 lessons learned.
20. Take a graphic design class. // In July!
21. Go vegan for 4 months. Bonus points for completely organic. // I permanently cleaned up my diet.
22. Run a 5k and not die. // I signed up for the Color Run in June. Right now I'm on Week 3 with no back pain and minimal knee pain. We'll see!
23. Plan an awesome 30th birthday celebration trip. // I know a certain Michigan transplant in Hawaii I'd like to hug.
24. Visit my 6th country outside the U.S. // But Hawaii is not out of the U.S., so I might need to plan two trips.
25. Have 50 lunch dates. That's one every 21 or so days // Thanks to Grant, Shanon, Alicia, Anna G., Ashley, John, Mom, Krista, Kelsey D., Joshie, Shelley, Amy P., Allison, Jamie, Katrina, Jen, Amy H., Tyler, Kelsey M., Lindsay, Anna K., and Tonya, I've had 72 lunch dates since I set my goal. Thanks for the friendship and mid-day distraction.
26. Shoot a gun. // Need to get on this.
27. Do something creative with the huge piece of drywall in my living room. // I'll have to think of a stand-in goal because that living room is no longer where I live, and the dry wall is long gone.
28. Put off dying my hair. Embrace the grey before I start to cover it. // Oh, there's still plenty of grey just hanging out!
29. Buy a kayak. // I wonder if I could fit a kayak in my apartment? :) Need a stand-in.
30. Be completely at peace with turning 30, well before it actually happens // If 30 feels as good as 29, we're in business.

Overflow

I felt it coming. I knew it was close when I left a tornado and a few curse words in my wake on my way to yoga last Tuesday. The trains were busy and I hadn't packed my gym bag the night before. All I could find were a pair of cut-off running pants, striped with dog slobber. I quickly and clumsily shaved my ankles in the sink with the closest lubricant: hand soap. My mind was fervent with criticism: Who even lets me be an adult? When will I get my act together?

I filled Henley's near-empty water bowl and rushed her through a potty break. Even though I knew she'd had her share of exercise yesterday, and that mamas had to take care of themselves in order to take care of their babes, I guiltly slipped out the front door. I got half way down my block before I had to turn around for my gym ID, which got her all excited again. Zen my ass. Just getting to class was a production.

While I enjoyed the class, I certainly wasn't feeling the yin/yang. My body did the moves, but my head ran right through the next day's to-do list and took a hearty turn onto Insecurity Row.

The week passed quickly, but I felt on edge. I avoided the phone (even more than normal) and spent an entire Saturday ransacking organizing my kitchen--which is filled with other people's things, mind you--in a fit to have everything just so. Would this new normal ever feel effortless? Why does this feel so hard?

I knew it was almost here when that familiar tickle appeared in my throat while I was watching the last episode of Weeds. It erupted from me during the last scene: open mouth cry, breathless sobs. For absolutely no reason and for absolutely every reason under the sun.

I missed my family. (When Weeds makes you miss your family, your family is either super cray-cray or you're one sentimental cat. I plead the fifth. ;) I was still stumbling at work, grappling to learn a new language in a fast-paced office. Still learning my surroundings. Still feeling it all out. Feeling it really intensely, per usual. All of it.

I'm hard on myself. I want to get it right the first time. I want to do it on my own, faster than I did last time, and with absolute grace. I hate to falter, I hate to find the weak spot. Even though this time around I knew I would need to make room for patience and self-care, like one makes space in one's hips during yoga. I still overdid myself, piled on too much pressure, got bent all out of shape.

I love Chicago, and I love my job. My social life is filled with friends both new and old. But I'm not sure you could pay me enough to replay the last six weeks. There's been nothing wrong in particular, it's just that the adjustment has had me so far out of alignment that its almost as if I had to come out the other side. Cue open mouth cry, breathless sobs.

I've been so self-aware, so full of self-doubt. I have been having the absolute best experience I could have hoped for, but it wound me up tighter than I've ever been.

But that's what yoga's for. Last night I got there early, having already ran my 40 minutes of intervals and made my rounds through the weight machines. I chose a mat, a block, a strap, and a blanket, and strategically placed myself next to the only heterosexual male in the room.

The instructor said in her yoga teacher voice, "Find your place on the mat. Get comfortable in a seated position. Set your intention for tonight's practice." I wished she would follow me around through life. "Remember this is your practice, your hour. Honor your limits as well as your growth. If something comes to mind that is not to do with tonight's practice, simply bring yourself back."

Gentle reminders. Bring yourself back. Learn your body's way of saying no, slow down, or dig just a little bit deeper. Open up your heart space: shoulders back, chin up. The position you are in is the perfect position for you, right now. Calmly assess your next move if you begin to feel discomfort. You may find stiff old aches you didn't know were still there. If you feel out of sorts, quietly retreat to child's pose, and join the group again when you're ready.

It's only when you return to the mat that you remember that the struggle is worth it. You can avoid yoga, you can make excuses to dodge the work, but once you're back on the mat, you remember. You get yourself into poses you don't know your way out of. You twist and stretch and go too far and reset. There's the burn and the good hurt, the progress and the sweet release. But you have to return to the mat.

Source

After a few sun salutations, some hell-yes-that's-the-good-stuff-hallelujah hip and IT-band stretches and one are-you-fucking-kidding-me-I-hate-you warrior combination, I returned my gear to the front of the room, gave the token hetero a shy smile, and walked out, feeling taller, a tad more graceful and a lot more relaxed.

"You will be called on to expand," says Danielle LaPorte. "And that is why we practice."

It's true what they say about anxiety: The only way out, is through. You can't hop over it, you can't duck under it, and there's no way around it. You have to face it straight on, head bowed, hands at your heart center. Namaste.

Quoteworthy: Be You

Being new and meeting so many people makes you so self-aware. It's been a long time since I've been so cautious about what words come out of my mouth and what I share with people I talk to. I vacillate between clamming up and putting up walls and yearning to share more of my personality. It's strange, being new.

As someone who has to make it a point to not live in her head all the time, this has been an interesting week. A week full of growth, though--a week full of stretching. In an effort to come out of my shell a bit and let people get to know the full, unedited Bobbi, I've gathered some quotes about being yourself.  You can't shine, after all, unless you're being real.

   

source

"I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be." --F. Scott Fitzgerald

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter." --Dr. Suess

"You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches." --Dita Von Teese

"The more you love your decisions, the less you need others to love them." --Anonymous

"If you want to sing out, sing out. If you want to be free, be free. There's a million things to be. You know that there are." --Cat Stevens


Authentic (n): of undisputed origin; true; real

Genuine (n): sincerely or honestly felt or experienced

Extremes

For a recovering control freak, I've been dealing pretty well with all the newness in my life. I'm new to the city, I'm in a new apartment, I'm new to my job, and I'm new to the subject matter that I'm writing about at my job. Not only that, but I work downtown (easy-peasy)...but will have to navigate my way down to our campus by bus, car, train, cab, you name it. It's all a lot of... new.

Which has been really great, actually, except the time that I got on a south-bound bus when I was already on the south side. And the time that I held up a line of people getting on to the northbound bus I should have been on in the first place by trying to put my CTA card in the cash slot. There have been a dozen humbling experiences like this over the past week, but also some pretty awesome wins. Aside from the bus mishap, I managed to navigate my way down to campus on my first try and make all my meetings on time. Things are starting to come together in terms of, oh, knowing how the heck to even get into work, which is basically Fort Knox with all its locked doors and maze-like cubicles. And Henley, knock on wood, is happy and secure at home, behaves for her dog walker, and hasn't touched a thing in the apartment in my absence. Highs and lows, wins and near-misses.

Which brings me to my public transportation experiences today. I spent about 4 hours of my day in transit to and from work and meetings. In those four hours I witnessed:

• a drunk man who sat behind me on the bus, grunting and occasionally touching the ends of my hair (No, I could not get up and move, trustmetrustmetrustme, that bus was packed; and yes, I took a hot shower the moment I got home)
• an elderly woman whispering sweetly to her husband, a Korean war vet, who clearly had dementia and was agitated, assuring him that their stop was coming up soon....for 12 stops straight
• a sorority-girl (Phi Beta something) in her mid-20s who clicked her retainer in and out of her mouth while making disturbing faces at her self in the train window...for 12 stops straight
• a group of 12-ish-year-old girls who were gawking and giggling at a 40-ish-year-old woman on a subway platform whose skirt was stuck up in the back of her jacket...and one 12-ish-year-old girl who kindly tapped her on the shoulder and told her
• a woman with orange dreads and a studded leather jacket screaming at J.Crew customer service reps for 35 minutes
• a 7-ish-year-old boy bashfully give up his seat for a 10-ish-year-old girl (do these kids not have school?!)

Chicago, something tells me you make the good great and the weird even weirder.

Landing

Last summer, I traveled downstate to a yoga retreat center outside of Gaylord to visit my friend Allison's sister, Angie. Angie was working as a cook--among other things. The center was actually a beautiful community--a retreat center, yes, but home to many who live in the surrounding woods or travel once a month to recharge.

Allison and I headed out after one of the toughest weeks I'd had in a while. I was going non-stop--no breathers, no real time for self-care. I was worn, frazzled, depleted.

Still in the thick of working out my back issues, I sat out on morning yoga, electing instead to get an extra hour of sleep in a peaceful place. I also sat out on the 'lab' part of the Organic Farming workshop we attended, volunteering to help Angie out in the kitchen. (Chopping copious amount of vegetables = therapy.)

Instead of bumming about missing out, both of which I had been doing a lot of lately, I told myself I would spend that time and energy focusing on the wonder it was that I ended up at the center on the close of a very trying week. If my mind wandered toward worry, as it is primed to do during stressful times, I chose to focus on other lucky coincidences, like the fact that Allison moved back to Marquette as another close friend left, leaving me vulnerable in his wake. Turns out the center had its own share of lucky stories: Angie met a friend downstate whose family has close ties to the center, where she ended up working years later. That friend, a calm, kind and funny girl, happened to be visiting the center that same weekend, and was full of interesting stories about the center's history.

As we sat down to one of Angie's delicious meals, one of the community members asked Allison and I, "So, do you think your sister landed in a good place?" I marveled at the phrasing of that--"landed in a good place". Landing implies some kind of take off or initiative, yes, but also, to me at least, the phrase implies some kind of randomness, some kind of luck, some kind of destiny. Also: having been there just over 30 hours, how could we tell? Was that even enough time to judge?

But it was a good place, you could tell. Kind, encouraging smiles for newcomers. Thoughtful conversation at the dinner table. Genuine expressions of gratitude for small acts, like setting the table or making flowers out of the bottom of peppers for the veggie tray.

Before that trip, I was usually good to meditate for maybe 3 minutes. One of the employees made a comment about mindfulness that got me from 3 minutes to 15 minutes. He said, "Every time your mind strays, just gently bring yourself back to your breathing, no judgement, no frustration, just bring yourself back." Very powerful words.

His words came back to me as I went about my first day of work today. In the past, being the new girl has made me feel very insecure, very anxious. My reaction is to turn inward and--you guessed it--worry. But today, instead of judgement or worry, I focused on gratitude. I wondered. I marveled. I shook a lot of hands. I took notice of kind smiles for newcomers and thoughtful lunch table conversation. And I think I landed in a good place.

I'm Having a Mary Tyler Moment

I've arrived. The ride down was at once effortless (Henley was a dream) and excruciating (what usually takes 6 hours took 9). There were tears. Saying goodbye to my dad nearly slayed me. I missed a toll. This side of Milwaukee, the weather was complete crap, making for some white-knuckle freeway driving. Eventually traffic slowed to a crawl. My phone battery was on its last limb. My back started to talk to me from sitting for so long. I scooted 1.5 miles in just under 2 hours in bumper-to-bumper traffic. 

Source - sold out but I'm going to try to track it down

I swung by my friend Kelsey's place to grab my key and fought my way through three-way intersections with flashing red lights. I was just crabby enough to get a little aggressive. Luckily there was a parking spot right in front of my apartment. I scrambled to get a few bins into the place in the dark, hopeful that I'd be able to find a complete outfit for my early-morning meeting with HR.

I put a few items away, checked the place out, locked the doors (hey, family, chill out), updated my people on my arrival and hit the sack--completely spent and irritated. 

But everything looked a little bit brighter this morning. My apartment is really nice--and big! Henley is adjusting well, despite barking at every noise, and lingering on my heels. I've relaxed a bit, and I'm looking forward to seeing friends tonight.

As I was walking around today, gathering grocery staples, opening up bank accounts, having keys made, taking care of business, I had a little Mary Tyler Moore moment. I felt grateful, happy, and satisfied. I didn't toss my hat in the air, per se, but I completely understood the sentiment.