I am not a runner. I have never been a runner. I am not fast. I don't like anything about running. So, when I see something about runners or marathons or jogging, I generally just turn away or scroll on by or quickstep away from it with a shake of my head and don't give it another thought. So, I don't know why I even read the section of the recent The New York Times The Good List that was entitled, "Why run?"
My first thought when I read that topic was the number of times when we were getting a cow or heifer into a pen and she got by me but my Daddy always outran her and got her circled around and headed back in the right direction. Now, he was fast. He could run. He even seemed to like it sometimes. Go figure.
I did walk in a marathon once. Don't get any ideas. I wasn't one of those folks who was quickwalking and looked like an athlete. Several of my co-workers and I decided we would honor another co-worker and walk in a breast cancer marathon. We all walked along and chatted and enjoyed the morning. We got a T-shirt and went to lunch after and it made for a nice day. I was much younger then and it didn't seem like a big undertaking. I didn't train or anything.
In this section of The Good List, there is a whole lot of wisdom that did hit home for me, though. One of the things that intrigued me was this statement: "Humans have always undertaken physical challenges to help cope with emotional ones." That rings true for me, without a doubt. Many years ago, when I was going through my divorce, I began a walking regimen. I got up each morning and walked. I walked sometimes in the afternoons. I kept it up for many years - well, I think I walked each afternoon up until a few years after I remarried. Then, I felt I needed to prepare a good evening meal for the Mister because he worked hard and needed nourishment at the end of the day. So, I slacked off my walking and, of course, over time, my health deteriorated. Maybe I also didn't have so many emotional issues to deal with and didn't feel the call for a physical challenge either. Hmmm...
One thing is for certain, another statement in that post rang true for me - and still does. “Life gave me hard that I didn’t choose. When we choose hard and let that hard redefine what hard means in our lives — it gives us back our power.” Everything about my life seems to be compared to that era of hard that I lived through. The author thought she would use running a marathon as a touchstone for facing future challenges. "I ran a marathon. Surely I can do this." For that period in my life I tackled several different things that were hard. I survived a divorce. I earned a master's degree. I earned a teaching certificate. I saw two children through college. I paid for my daughter's wedding. I started a new job. I sold my house and bought a new one and tackled moving to another county. Even now I think of that period in my life and I think, I survived... I know I can do this.
The author, Melissa Kirsch, says that she's trying to understand this, "Choosing to do something hard as a way to reclaim agency. Hard things don’t always have to be unwelcome; sometimes we invite them in to reframe our understanding of suffering." I appreciate that concept as well. Hard doesn't have to be something unwelcome. We might even embrace something hard at times. I know I did that when I bought my new sewing machine. I embraced something that was not easy. I took on the role of a learner, an experimenter, a person who tried new things and I'm still enjoying that. Each day I really look forward to seeing what I can accomplish using the machine. I look forward to making something that I think somebody else may use and enjoy. I look forward to creating something beautiful or cute or practical - and hopefully attractive as well as practical.
I know that there are lots of times when I struggle with something and I just stick with it tenaciously because I am not going to let it whip me. I am going to overcome. I am going to figure it out. I survived a lot of hard things. I know I can do this, too.
Kirsch says, "This is why many people love to run marathons: The magical feeling of the crowds cheering you on." I've never even thought about that. I'm sure it is a sort of high that is like no other. It involves grueling tenacity after long hours of training. Then, everywhere along the way there are folks cheering you on and encouraging you forward. At completion, most people have family or friends to greet them and congratulate them. If not, there are just so many people there cheering that you finished that you would feel such a sense of accomplishment. It has to be a little bit magical.
I finished another granddaughter's 'set' today. It is in a color I never would have selected - purple. It is unique and different from every other set I've completed for the other four granddaughters and three grandsons. It is absolutely adorable, though.
When I finished it and took photos to keep for my own album of reference to know what I've created, I could almost feel the cheering crowds.
I couldn't stop smiling and admiring each cute piece. I felt a sense of accomplishment in knowing that I had taken one more step in my journey for a Handmade Christmas.
I sat down and ate myself a snack. Then, I straightened up my sewing supplies and sat down to admire the set again. It was sort of like a personal party that I gave to myself.
Kirsch refers to that party concept with marathons. She says, "marathons, especially city marathons, are a big party that keeps going even when you don't want to." I must confess, last week, I didn't really want to keep going to create more handmade gifts. I just wanted to take a break and shop. However, I am so glad that I didn't. I wouldn't have made this cute set for Luci. I wouldn't have been inspired to make at least two more sets for the last two granddaughters. This set came together so quickly and easily that it was inspiring. It turned out so cute that I want to make another couple so that I can make another zip pouch similar to the ones I did for Luci. I want to see how it will look in a different color and different fabric. I want to see which zip pouches the kiddos like best and which ones they wish I would make for them in the future that they didn't get this time. I'm refreshed and inspired somehow.
Maybe it is because the Mister took one of his pals into the bedroom and showed him the different pieces I've made. He boasted with pride about how I'd been creating all of those items with my new sewing machine and how I had programmed it to do the stitching and then constructed each piece from a simple piece of fabric. Then, his friend, asked me how I had done all of that. He wanted to know how I got my ideas and how I figured out how to craft each different style. He was amazed at the variety of zip pouches and Christmas ornaments and bag tags and wreath sashes covering the surface of the bed in that spare bedroom and the different tote bags hanging from the doorknobs of the closet. They sort of served as my cheering crowd, I guess.
Kirsch's final statement in that segment is the most profound. "This party, this collective effervescence, is available to all of us, even if we don’t run. Sometimes we’re the ones taking on a physical challenge, sometimes we’re the ones standing along the route cheering." I remembered a teacher telling me that she always looked forward to meeting with me because she felt rejuvenated and encouraged because I was like her own personal cheerleader affirming her efforts as a teacher and providing her with inspiration and encouragement to try something more and keep marching forward with what she did effectively with her students. I guess I was standing along her route cheering for her when I really just thought I was working with her and we were both growing as teachers. So, I'm issuing a challenge to anyone who stumbles upon this post. Don't think you have to run or tackle some huge physical challenge. Just step forward and stand along the route cheering somebody else onward. Experience that effervescence and share it. Be the good in somebody else's world and it will be good in yours as well.
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