No Pain, No Gain

I inhaled deeply and tried to concentrate on each step I was taking.  I tried to keep my head up and focus on my end destination so I wouldn't loose sight of the goal.  Why was this so difficult today? I've been finding that question present itself in my thoughts every time I embark on such a challenge.  It was just a run, but sometimes a run seems so tough, even if I have been running frequently, and there are days when I find it is flat out discouraging.

Lately, I have been thinking back to when I was growing up and participated in competitive sports.  Most of the time, I think of swimming.  It's odd I would compare gliding through the water to running on concrete but the actions to me seem very alike.  Swimming back and forth across the length of a pool is not all that different than running back and forth along a path - both activities take a necessary level of commitment and self determination paired with the right amount of motivation. 

I swam on a competitive recreational team from the time I was 5 until I was 18.  We were the Dolphins, the Mighty Dolphins in fact, and our coach was tough but he was great.  "No pain, no gain" he would say, as me and my team mates were lined up along the swimming pool wall, staring up at him with half blank expressions. I'll admit, I understood this mantra at quite different levels when I was five than what I understood when I was eighteen. "You have to put in a lot of effort and push yourself to get better results".  Hmmm, no pain, no gain. I learned this was a mantra that proved to be incredibly true. 

Oddly enough, the stroke I was good at happened to be butterfly.  This is the stroke where both arms literally fly out of the water simultaneously.  As you dive back in each time you move forward through the water by "kicking" with both feet held together.  Ironically, butterfly arm movements are paired with a dolphin-like kick.  Some people think this is one of the hardest strokes, but if you ask me, that endowment would go to backstroke.  I never could get backstroke down.  In high school, the event I swam during meets was the 100 yard butterfly.  This is four lengths of the pool and I remember that at the end of such events, I was for lack of better terms, pooped.

I can vividly recall standing on top of the diving block, looking out over the pool.  At one meet against a neighboring high school, I waited for the starters commands:  "On your mark", I stood tall and looked out across the length of the pool, deep breath in, don't be nervous, just concentrate "Get set"  Reach down and grab the block, ready to catapult at the next command "GO!" I shot off the block and into the water.  As I moved down the pool I could see out of the corner of my eye I was keeping pace with the other girls.  My arms flew out of the water and I tried to take as many strokes before taking a breath as I could possibly stand. I reached the first end, touched and shot back off the wall - three more laps to go.  I kept my concentration... no pain, no gain - well this was pain, I hoped it was paying off.  Finally at the fourth lap it was time to step it up with what little energy was left in me.  I could see I had a chance to pull forward - as I took the last half length of the pool I felt good about the race.  My fingers touched the wall at the finish and I looked up from the pool at the time keeper "What was my time?".  Instead, one of the referrees posed me an odd question: "What time is it?", I looked at my watch and replied "Uh, 4:30".  "Well, you're disqualified, you can't wear a watch or any jewelry during a race."

Competing is tough.

You can imagine after the unfortunate disqualification, I never made that mistake while racing again.  I realize how valuable all those years of swimming were to help me push myself, learn to be a little bit tougher, and to sometimes push myself physically to where I wasn't even sure I was capable.  Now as I go for my four mile runs I try to think back about all those things.  I mostly try to remember my coaches, the tough practices and the challenging races, meets and matches I participated in to help push myself now, even though I'm not competing in a race.  And when it seems my motivation is lacking, I think back at that mantra - if I want results - no pain, no gain.

A Town Painted Green

As the snow begins its very first stages of the melting process in many parts of this country, we can all smell a hint of spring awaiting us right around the corner.  It's mid-March which not only is synonymous with the madness of college basketball but is also marked by perhaps one of the craziest holidays all year round: Saint Patrick's Day.

St. Patty's Day to me is always a curious study of people's love to celebrate.  I for one, don't have any Irish in me (or at least I don't think I do...), but that aside, every year I am quick to don a green outfit and join the masses in eating bangers and mash and swaying to Irish songs alongside all my friends at an "Irish Bar" no matter what city I'm living in.

New York, known for gloriously celebrating holidays, always had a fantastic Saint Patricks Day Parade.  Now the holiday usually falls during a week day so unfortunately, I was never able to go see the parade... there were other obligations, namely work, that prevented me from a mid-week rendezvous.  But fear not, someone a long time ago thought - why should a holiday mid-week prevent everyone from celebrating?! Easy solution: move the party to the weekend.  Every year the Saturday before or after, whichever was closer, would hold a city-wide Saint Patricks Day celebration.  In a city so cold this time of year, I think it is not only a day to celebrate Irish heritage but also to celebrate the coming of spring.

This year, even though I wasn't in NYC, the celebration this past weekend was still huge.  Actually, I think it's one of the biggest all year that takes place in Columbia, South Carolina.  Complete with green-dyed fountains, the town was transformed into a sea of green, and I mean that quite literally.  25,000 people came out to celebrate Saint Patricks Day.  The festival was complete with food vendors, beer trucks and three stages graced by a continuous string of bands filling the air with music.  Of course I was soaking up the nice weather with green beer in hand, yes green, and not holding back in my indulgence of Irish bangers, bbq sandwiches and the free nachos one stand was giving out... hey, it's an American celebration of Saint Pats and in the South no less.

Being new to town, we decided that it would be fun to "volunteer" during this festival, at least for part of it.  Our charitable duties including nothing more than standing in front of a Budweiser truck and pouring out a selection of beers for any thirsty festival-goer willing to shell out $3.  It was a site to see watching people pass by our truck.  Since we worked the morning shift which ended at 1PM we hardly saw the tip of the iceberg, so-to-speak, of people in attendance.  I did however, see a few families with babies in strollers who ever so cautiously would eye our truck, almost making it all the way by until one person (I saw it happen via Mom AND Dad) would hang a sharp left with the stroller, whip out some change and sheepishly say - well I guess I'll have one!  Amongst the crowd was lots of green hair dye, sparkling and even light-up mardi gras beads and yes, I even saw a 6 foot tall leprechan - complete with orange hair, top hat and cane.



Although it was quite the interesting crowd, I noticed that fortunately it was a nice and well behaved one with everyone genuinely happy to be celebrating a great day with food, music and lucky for us - sunshine.  I love that Saint Patricks Day is a day to celebrate such a strong and proud heritage.  I hope one day I get the chance to actually travel to Ireland, which I hear is beautiful and inhabited by very gracious and fun people.  For now, I'll just continue to find as much green clothing in my closet as I can and join the masses in food, drink and good times, every March to celebrate Saint Patricks.

The Road

There is a famous poem by Robert Frost that you are probably familiar with.  It's his poem titled The Road Not Taken and as I was trying to fall asleep last night, the verses unexpectedly popped in my head.  I suppose my sudden attention to the poem was some sort of after-effect of having been an English major, which included the study of many authors, poets, poems and stories.

This particular poem by Frost is a beautiful and honest questioning that not only invokes images of choosing a literal path but also provokes thought about past decisions, future decisions and the blatant fact that we as people are faced with choices very often in life.

In case you aren't familiar with the poem, it goes like this:

The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Definitely one of the more well-known and popular poems, I love The Road Not Taken for its irony and quite literal contemplation of a journey.  

It's curious that such thoughts could be applied to something so ordinary, like which way I decided to drive to our office this morning.  Then there are the more significant and life-altering paths we choose, or are rather drawn to in life.  It seems at first, maybe the speaker in the poem is hesitant about his choice, even trying to peer as far down the fork in the road as he can, as if to try and see what the result of that choice would bring.

I received a very excited phone call from my sister just last night.  She has been accepted to a graduate program to receive her masters and teaching credential.  Words can't quite express how proud I am of my little sister and how thrilled I am for the journey she is waiting to begin.  It made me think, before she decided to go back to school, she too was looking down two paths.  Deciding to take the one, her results will be much different than if she hadn't embarked down that route.  These are truly the exciting and defining moments that are filled with anticipation and curiosity about what a chosen path will bring.

In thinking more about choices and the points Frost brings up in his poem, I have one additional comment.  I think it's the irony the poet is trying to bring to front with his words but it's interesting the speaker chooses one path while thinking about the other.  While I too constantly think about what if one decision would have been made over the other, I think I'd rather resolve to focus on the choices I did make and the wonderful outcomes most of them have had.  Maybe I would have titled the poem The Road I Have Taken instead of  The Road Not Taken... But that's enough poetry for one day, tonight when I fall asleep I hope to put Frost aside and be thinking about what my next great adventure could possibly be.