Wild Women – Page 11 – Karen's New York Love Affair

Going for the gold – the gold of inner truth!

The good news is I started a new technical writing contract! The bad news is I have totally bombed on my Vancouver marathon training schedule. During the past few weeks, with preparing for the interviews, interviewing, preparing for the job, and working, I have missed 26K one week, 33K the next week, and 43K this past week, including one long run of 29K. Luckily, I am taking to heart the advice of never trying to make up a missed run.

So this week I get a fresh start. It is a “resting” week, with only 4 runs totalling 32K. I know I can keep on track with that! Then the following week I will see if I can do the long run and keep on track with the rest of the mileage.

If I can’t do it, then it will be time to face reality. This is the gold of inner truth. I am in my 40s. I have limited time and energy. I can’t do everything I want to do! In my earlier years, I still believed I could, and I usually managed to pull it off. But I am facing limitations differently now that I am over 40. I want to be kinder and gentler to myself, as well as to those around me.

There is a freedom in seeing the truth of what my limits really are. And with the accompanying tenderness towards myself, this can feel like a golden warmth in my heart.

With the Vancouver 2010 winter Olympics going on in the city, it is easy to get swept up in gold fever! I’m going for the inner gold these days.

Chi running

Before I finish the story of my trip to California and the medicine walk I took, I want to tell you about the chi running workshop I went to last weekend. Angela James taught the workshop. She is the only certified chi running trainer in Vancouver. Danny and Katherine Dryer developed this method and wrote about it in ChiRunning: A Revolutionary Approach to Effortless, Injury-Free Running. Danny is an ultra-marathoner (running distances of up to 100 miles!!!), and also does T’ai Chi, an ancient martial art that works with our chi, or life force.

If you’ve never felt your chi and wonder what it is, try this simple exercise. Rub your hands together in a circular motion until you feel a lot of heat in your palms from the friction. Then hold your hands about an inch apart and sense the space between them. (You might want to close your eyes to allow your other senses to become more sensitive.) You might notice a “cushion” of air, which feels like a slight resistance if you bring your hands slightly closer to each other. Then gradually bring your hands further apart, feeling the energy between them, until they are so far apart that you no longer feel the energy. Then slowly bring your hands together and see what happens as they get closer. It might feel like the space between your hands gets denser as the energy concentrates when your hands come closer together. The energy between your hands is your chi, or life energy. Chi is also all around us, available for us to gather from the air, ground, and living plants.

With chi running, we can gather this chi while running to help energize us on long runs. I noticed I could do this while running through Stanley Park in the Vancouver half marathon—the trees definitely gave me energy in a way that concrete buildings on other parts of the route did not. And we can also replenish ourselves with chi at any time during the day (not just when running). T’ai Chi and another practice called Qigong teach ways for gathering and working with the energy, and opening the channels in our body to help it flow more freely. It is subtle energy, and you might not believe it even exists if you’ve never felt it, but hopefully the simple exercise I showed you will help you to feel it.

I first read the ChiRunning book about four years ago, and practicing the method helped me increase my capacity from the 10K distance to the half-marathon. The techniques show us how to run using the body mechanics most efficiently and effortlessly, allowing us to run long distances injury-free. Previously, pain where the IT band attaches to my left knee prevented me from running long distances. But using the chi running technique, in combination with my yoga practice, I was able to gradually and gently increase my distance from 10K to 21.2K!

So as you can imagine, I was very excited about going to the workshop and learning about the technique from an expert. The workshop was terrific, and I highly recommend it. Angela is a very supportive, skilled teacher. A few students she has coached were also there, offering their insights from the perspective of people who are still learning the techniques. We learned some of the “focuses”—specific techniques—indoors, and then went out on a track to practice them. I was amazed at how using these simple techniques really increased my speed. It was almost scary!

But afterwards, something funny happened. I didn’t want to go running. Hmm, what was going on? The next day was supposed to be my Sunday long run, but I didn’t go. I planned to do it Monday instead, but Monday came and went without a run. In the training program I am following to prepare for the Vancouver marathon this May (which will be my first full marathon!), it says never try to make up a missed run. So Tuesday I did a shorter run, just 56 minutes. And I realized I didn’t want to use what I had learned at the workshop. I didn’t want to mess with my comfortable, slow, plodding running style. I like to just go out and not think about running. I don’t want to go faster! I don’t want to change! Don’t harsh my mellow!

I had my worst running week ever, totally blowing off the training schedule. I only ran three times, though I did do a long run of 2 hours and 40 minutes on Wednesday. But I still didn’t want to try the new techniques.

This experience taught me something about learning, and about the ego. The ego does not want to change, not really, even though we might think we want to change. There are calcified structures within us that keep us going in a familiar groove, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings. It takes a huge amount of effort to carve new neural pathways in the brain, which is part of the process of learning a new behaviour. We have to have a lot of motivation and focus in order to persist with this. It is hard to go out of our comfort zones and into new unknown territory. Why, even getting up early on a Saturday and going to the workshop was hard to do, and created an irritable resistance within me that I had to overcome!

So I’m going to give myself a break with the running. I intend to practice what I’ve learned for short periods during a run now and then, but most of the time I will just let myself be. And I think that when things start to get hard in the marathon, that occasional practice of new techniques will pay off. I’ll have some new things to try, to keep myself interested during the 4+ hours of the run. But more importantly, running with the new methods will use my muscles slightly differently, giving me a rest and allowing me to go beyond the limits that my comfortable old style has.

#1 tip from the workshop

Chi running uses the principle of “cotton and steel.” Imagine a needle in a ball of cotton wool. This is what our body can be like when we’re running. The needle is the spine and the core abdominal muscles of our body. The cotton is everything else: our legs, butt, lower back, arms, hands, feet.

Steel: To embody this while running, draw your spine up really long, lifting your head up off your neck (keeping the back of your neck long and tall). Draw your belly in ever so slightly. This engages the core muscles. The long spine and resilient, engaged core muscles provide the steel—the support the body needs to glide effortlessly along, hour after hour.

Cotton: Now let the rest of your body totally relax. I love the feeling of letting go and noticing the muscles in my back loosen and let go like a liquid, from the waist and butt down all the way through my legs to my feet. It feels amazing to let all these muscles totally relax, and to trust that they know what to do in response to the changes of the terrain—I don’t have to do anything. Try this the first time when going downhill, and you will be amazed at the feeling of lightness and freedom!

Taking the time to care for the hurt self

I have been describing a process of exploration and healing that occurred on a medicine walk in Eureka Valley. There is one more piece to the puzzle that arose as I explored my intention with Ruth and Larry. I’ve already talked about the defense of anger, and how I was using that to protect my hurt self.

As I described various incidents to Ruth and Larry in which I’d felt hurt, another theme that emerged was time: I felt like people didn’t care about me because they didn’t give me time. They didn’t want to spend time with me, as in the case of the friend who had put me off three times when I wanted to get together with him. And they didn’t give me enough time. This had arisen in a small group meeting with my Diamond Approach group, when the teacher had said I could work for 10 minutes only. I had agreed to the time limit, but it hadn’t been enough time and had led to deep feelings of shame when the time was up and I needed more time but the teacher didn’t let me have the time I needed. And time has often been a sore point in my interactions with friends, when they take up all the time we’re together by talking about themselves, leaving me to feel like I don’t matter. So TIME is an issue, or at least TIME is the way that Being was trying to reveal a truth to me, through the persistent feeling that there is not enough time for me.

Ruth and Larry noticed this theme as I spoke, and drew it to my attention, and this became the final piece of my intention: I am mother and father to myself, and I have the strength and take the time to care for my hurt self. This last bit, taking the time to care for my hurt self, was a crucial piece of the puzzle. For it is I who am responsible for taking the time I need, and asking for the time I need, in my relations with others. But even more importantly, for making this time for self-care in my daily life. It is up to me to value myself enough to attend to my self with curiosity, care, and compassion when I am feeling upset about something. And even when I am not upset about something!

So this was the intention I took out on my walk. I am mother and father to myself, and I have the strength and take the time to care for my hurt self. Next time I will tell you what happened on the walk—how I worked with the intention, and how nature interacted with me to bring healing to my hurt self.

Winter vacation getaway at Monkey Valley

I’ve decide to share my beautiful Monkey Valley home with visitors from around the world who will be coming to BC for the Winter Olympics.

Here is the posting on Craig’s List:

http://vancouver.en.craigslist.ca/van/vac/1484724729.html

If you have any friends who will be visiting BC this winter, and who are interested in a unique winter getaway with their own 160 acres of private snowy wonderland, please pass on the word.

Final post-script: Another perfect pedicure

I wrote previously about Conflict resolution and perfect pedicures, and I want to let you know how that story turned out. I recently went to the 10-day Diamond Approach summer retreat in California, and before flying south I returned to the spa where I had experienced the traumatic, injury-producing pedicure.

True to his word, the owner had spoken to his staff, and my new aesthetician, Grace, was very careful to make sure I was satisfied with the length of my toenails, asking me to check it was okay before proceeding to the polishing stage. She trimmed them to a nice, short length, rounded the way I like, with no arguments or lectures! Ah, how sweet. In the picture shown here, the sore on my left big toe is from dancing all night in silver sandals at the retreat. Now that’s the way to work a pedicure!

In another episode of conflict resolution, I took my cat Donald to the vet yesterday. He hadn’t eaten in three days, and had just been lying in his den (a cat carrier lined with a towel) without moving for 24 hours. So I brought him to the Blue Cross Pet Hospital, and the vet couldn’t find any external problems such as abscesses or infections, but suggested antibiotics in case of internal infection. He also suggested bloodwork for diagnostic purposes, and keeping Donald for a few hours to rehydrate him and observe him. I agreed to all of this, but when I came back to get Donald a few hours later, the bill was almost $600!

I asked to see the breakdown of the charges, paid the bill, and took Donald home. He ate a little, and though he was groggy from the sedative the vet had given him before taking the blood samples, he was clearly already improved. I looked at the printout of the bill again, and noticed there was a $95 charge for the sedative, plus $145 for a general anaesthetic. Given that Donald had responded to the antibiotics already, it seemed like the treatment and charges were a little over the top!

I felt a familiar sense of helplessness and being taken advantage of. One of the ways that I have habitually dealt with this type of feeling, which I have a hard time tolerating, is to get angry. This is one way of using the red energy of the south, and I will talk about this more next time. But yesterday, noticing how familiar this was (from some inner exploration I’d done recently at the retreat), I just didn’t want to go that route again. But how could I handle it differently?

Perhaps the earlier positive experience with conflict resolution at the day spa helped give me a clue, because what I did was call the pet hospital, and explained to the receptionist that Donald was doing much better and I had a concern about the bill and treatment being over the top. I spoke to her very quietly and calmly, and explained that since he’d responded so quickly to the short-term antibiotic, it seemed overkill that the vet had sedated him, given him an anaesthetic, taken blood samples, and given him a long-term antibiotic. It might have made more sense to give him the short-term antibiotic first and see how he responded. Also I wasn’t happy that the vet hadn’t discussed how much his proposed course of action would cost. The receptionist listened carefully and said she would ask Dr. Hartney to call me.

He did, a few minutes later, and apologized for charging me for both the sedative and the anaesthetic. He said this was a mistake, as the anaesthetic was just for a few minutes, and that they would deduct the $145 from my bill. He listened when I expressed my concerns about the treatment being overkill, and he explained his view of it: that while Donald was sedated he wanted to take the blood samples and give the long-term antibiotic, because there was no way of knowing what the problem was until after trying these things. No crystal ball… I felt satisfied by this rationale, because if it had been a serious problem it was better to know sooner than later. We ended the call on a good note, with discussing how to refund the $145 to me.

The next morning, the vet called me personally to let me know that the blood samples have gone astray, although the BCPH had actually bought the courier lunch to get him to come back and deliver the samples to the lab right away! Ah, life is a mysterious thing. All these little details and human and animal interactions, held within the larger container of nature and true nature. I appreciate being aware of the interconnectedness of all these things. This seems like the perfect, necessary resolution to my old patterned belief that I am alone in the world, which doesn’t care about me (at best) and is probably out to get me (at worst). And it is good to confirm that there are other ways of dealing with situations besides anger, although I am still a firm believer that anger is sometimes the most appropriate response to a situation. But more on that later!

Madame Moose strides again

On a run at Monkey Valley recently, a magical thing happened. I was running up the road, and saw a magnificent female moose in the meadow beside the road. She saw me too, we looked at each other for a little, and then she moved away up the hill.

I felt awe and pleasure at this rare contact with Madame Moose, and continued on my run up the hill happily, keeping a lookout in case I saw her again. Sure enough, when I got up near the top gate I saw her up by the gate, and she saw me again too. I backed off a little, so she wouldn’t feel trapped or threatened, and then I thought I would take advantage of this opportunity to ask her a question.

“Should I sell Monkey Valley?” I asked her. I was feeling very discouraged about the amount of time I’d been spending on tending to the ranch this summer, and feeling burdened by it.

She said, “Don’t sell this land. Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Or as my brother-in-law Geoff Price told me, “Don’t sweat the petty stuff, don’t pet the sweaty stuff”!

Then she hopped the fence in a single stride. This seemed to confirm what she had said to me. To take the small stuff in stride.

A note to the poster who claimed to see a dead moose caught in the barbed wire fence on my south fence line: Not! The fence has been there thirty-plus years, and the moose and deer all know where it is. As I saw with my own eyes, these magnificent ungulates take such things in their stride.

I have not been so equanimous, and decided to probe the universe’s plans for me by putting Monkey Valley on the market, in spite of the moose’s advice (or, if you prefer, my own inner guidance as prompted by the moose encounter). I am feeling the call to have more freedom in my life, and keeping two homes has been feeling like a burden. Much as I love the quiet and privacy of Monkey Valley, I feel a stronger pull to the city, and it is a strain to keep both going. So I’m going to see what happens. If the place sells before snow flies, I will take that as a sure sign it is time to move on to new pastures. If it doesn’t sell, I’ll keep Monkey Valley and make a new plan.

In either case, I will continue to offer vision fasts. Either at Monkey Valley, or on the land near Monkey Valley.

Wild Vancouver nights

Last night I went for another run and skinny dip in the Seymour River. This time I went down the Twin Bridges trail, which is closed for trail work. I felt worried as I ran down the trail and saw that they are widening it and gravelling it. The sign said they would be replacing the bridge as well. I was worried that they were planning to allow vehicular traffic on this wild woody trail, bringing noise and air pollution to disturb the magnificent stillness of the forest. I was also concerned that the traffic would disturb the wildlife. And that this would be one more enroachment on a wonderful wild place that we are fortunate to enjoy near the heart of Vancouver—it’s just an 11 minute drive to the forest and river, from my house in East Van.

I thought about the arguments I would make against this work they are doing. That we need wild, untouched places. We evolved as a species among other animals in the wilderness, and we need wild places to go to. In fact, we need the wild places to be there even if we don’t go to them! I worried about this for most of my run, and noted the web site and email address to use to raise my concerns.

The site says:

Twin Bridges Replacement Project The first bridge to cross the Seymour River was built in 1907-08 and was dismantled in 1992. It carried a water main across the river and provided east-west access for pedestrians. A second bridge was built in 1926 and is the only bridge remaining on the site. This bridge will be removed and replaced this summer and will thus continue to serve as an important southerly crossing for both utility operations and public recreation.

Huh. That sounds pretty innocuous, but are they going to allow general traffic on the trail? I will still need to check this out by contacting them.

So after I memorized the web address and decided to follow up on my concerns, I was nearing the end of my run and I stopped to give Reiki to two of my favourite trees near the top of the Homestead Trail. I was worried that these two friends might be cut down, the way that a whole stretch of trees had been lower down on the Twin Bridges trail. It had hurt my heart to see the trees gone, laying as stripped logs beside the road.

As I gave Reiki to the two trees that I have often visited with and used to stretch against, I heard a twig breaking. I thought it must be a cyclist, though that didn’t really make sense since it was almost dark. I turned back onto the main trail, and guess what I saw… A black bear loping across the trail! What a blessing. What a confirmation that these woods are precious and I must do what I can to help protect them. As I paused by the path, looking in the direction where he had gone, I heard bear rustling around in the nearby underbrush, and sent some Reiki to him too. I was so happy to have this brief encounter with bear people.

When I got back to Lynn Valley Road and started the drive home, another magical visitation occurred as a long-tailed weasel crossed the road in front of me and then disappeared into the woods. And as I turned onto the road leading to the freeway entrance I smelled skunk. What an amazing city, to have so much beauty, with the buildings and people and machinery all coexisting with the awesome natural world that cradles Vancouver.

To top off the evening, the Vancouver International Fireworks were happening when I got home, and I did my post-run yoga on the deck overlooking the Burrard Inlet, watching the fireworks erupting over the city, and the stars emerging overhead. Wild Vancouver night!

Red wheel rolling

I was driving over the Second Narrows bridge tonight, feeling high from a run by and skinny dip in the Seymour River. It was dusk, but the street lights hadn’t come on yet on the north side of the bridge. I was groovin’ on Led Zeppelin, as I am wont to do after running in the mountains. Feeling fine. I was listening to Led Zep IV, which I just picked up on CD recently. The song was what some say is the best rock’n’roll song ever, Stairway to Heaven—though my personal fave of all time has got to be Gimme Shelter by the Stones—and I was feelin’ the magic. I crested the bridge and the key to the universe was revealed once again:

And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock, and not to roll, and not to roll, don’t make me roll…

Oh wait, that’s the live version off The Song Remains the Same. I often insert the live bits when I belt out the lyrics in the privacy of my own car. And I was really getting into it tonight!

Anyway, just as I was reflecting that the answer to the mystery of the universe was to be a rock and not to roll, I saw the most amazing thing. A red wheel was rolling along in my lane. It must have been doing about 70. I was doing about 80 and passed it. It was about 6″ high, and rolling right down the lane! And it was red! And it was rolling!

What does this mean? Could Led Zeppelin have been wrong after all? Is this a sign that the key to the universe is to roll, not to be a rock?!! And if so, how do I do that? Turn cart wheels? Roll in the hay? Play roulette? Rolling actually sounds a lot more fun than being a rock, which doesn’t get to do much but sit there and wait for a glacier to come along!

Postscript to perfect pedicure: parking ticket!

That about sums it up. The incident I mentioned earlier about the unsatisfactory pedicure had a reverberation through time, namely a $75 parking ticket. The appointment had run over the scheduled time (torture can be time consuming), and my parking had run out. Unbeknownst to me, because the ticket wasn’t on my windshield when I got to the car, I had been issued a parking ticket within 11 minutes of the time expiring… Someone must have taken it to put on their own car.

I am never parking in that lot again, I swear. This is the second time I’ve gotten a ticket there. Anyway, a phone call talked the charge from $75 to $45, but it was a painful postscript to a disagreeable episode.

C’est la vie, especially to one who is prone to irritation and reactivity!

Anyway, in more cheerful news, I am going to a sweat lodge in Marysville, WA on Wednesday, and will pick up the thread of the sweat lodges at the Wilderness Guides Gathering soon.

Wild women run with bears

The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears. (The worst thing is the cell reception, but I won’t go into that now.) It has not happened often that I’ve had the chance to run with bears here—only a few times in nine years—but it happened today.

I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!

This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!

I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!

At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.

On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!

I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.

But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.

I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!

When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.

Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.

We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.

There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.