it all comes back to this

tonight i cried in yoga.   i'm not sure why.  as i thought about it more, the line from steal magnolias came into my head when M'Lynn is trying to figure out why Annelle is praying.


Truvy: Maybe she's praying for Marshall and Drew and Belle. Maybe she's praying for us because we're gossiping. Maybe she's praying because the elastic is shot in her pantyhose! Who knows! She prays a the drop of a hat these days.

Not to say that I cry at the drop of a hat these days, truth is I haven't cried in a long time.   Truvy's response to me might have gone something like this;  "maybe shes crying because she bought and ate cookies for breakfast, maybe shes crying because this yoga class just kicked her ass, maybe shes crying because she turns 36 tomorrow or maybe shes crying because she is just damn happy."

i never know if i am happy or not, never know if i'm lonely or not.  truth is i don't give much attention to my feelings until something like a last hot yoga class as a 35 year old hits me like a ton of bricks.

since my last post a lot has happened, one being i deleted all my photos from picassa hence the big old minus sign you see at the beginning of all my posts. i also quit my job, bought a new car, sold my old car, changed careers, had massive writers block, packed up and drove out to salt lake city, utah.  oh and i became a mormon.  (kidding on the last one)  i like salt lake. it seems to fit me, forces me into a healthier lifestyle.  3 years ago a friend provided me with a book that would serve as a catalyst for me.   i haven't opened that book up in 3 years, today i did and tonight i found the following passage " enlist the people you respect as you commit to achieve your goals"

tomorrow i turn 36.  and 3 years to a reunion i told my mother not to support.  tomorrow i will leave my past behind, my future the focus.  and if for some reason my future isn't what i thought it would be, then i just damn well carry on and sign up for more yoga.

running in place

in my twenties, i felt constant, with the norm.  never wanting to miss an experience.  in my thirties, life seemed to somehow get ahead of me.  the only constant seemed to be me falling behind.  it was like i went from mid pack, to running in place at the starting line.  everyone else was finishing but me.

i used to dare to be different, i even went so far as getting an african american cabbage patch doll when i was a kid just so i didn't have the same "doll" as everyone else.  i wanted a bmx instead of a huffy, i wore vans instead of keds, i played sports but hung out with the stoners. when college came i conformed, joined a sorority but more for the competitive edge of being first in my pledge class then anything else it had to offer. i drove across the country with no job and basically no home, just because i could.  i did an ironman when someone told me i couldn't, i ran a marathon even though most of my friends were the day time drinking kind.  i was never good at making any decisions outside of the athletic kind that were anything like what i was "supposed to do".

racing is a lot like life.  you start off ready to fight the fight, positive, sometimes smiling, and maybe a little scared.  you toe up after months of training, everything planned out.  you eat what you are supposed to eat, you prepare and you know EXACTLY what is going to be ahead of you for the next 30 minutes or 15 hours.  and then you cross the starting line, you shirt starts to rub you the wrong way, your sock slips below your sneaker causing blisters after just a few miles,  your googles fill with water and you get kicked in the leg you had the old injury on.  you get to transition and realize you forgot sunscreen, you become anxious on what the next hours will deliver, your side starts to hurt, you get a flat tire,  your mind starts to wander up the first set up hills, you run out of water, your blister is getting worse, and then you start to feel like you can't take another step, stroke or pedal.  but you do.  your mind wanders again back to the place that reminds you of how you got here in the first place. and you cross that finish line, braver, stronger and more beat up than before.  you adapt.

so next time i think i'm running in place i'll remember all those times i "toed up" to the start line of a race and achieved my own defined success.  daring to be different once again.

time. it heals.

“you have to walk, and create the way by your walking; you will not find a ready-made path. It is not so cheap, to reach to the ultimate realization of truth. You will have to create the path by walking yourself; the path is not ready-made, lying there and waiting for you. It is just like the sky: the birds fly, but they don't leave any footprints. You cannot follow them; there are no footprints left behind.” 

― Osho

there are many times when i heard this saying, time will heal, as i held tight in denial.   the way i operate is needing to know the actual, details, something to hold onto to.  not faith.  yet, with this same time, i have been so graciously granted by faith. i am able to accomplish things that never would have been accomplished without such venture.  so as i embark on my two year anniversary to that life changing decision to part take in an otherwise unknown destination i thank those who crossed my path of uncertainly, for it is them who got me to complete this blog today.

yes, there have been the bouts of "i can not", "i am falling behind", there was loss, complied  with the occasional "what the (enter explicit here) am i doing"  and the time, although  i thought running short,  was in reality, a new beginning.

this is not a race report.  this is not a failed PR.   this is the athlete that came about one weekend in February after searching active.com when i should have been working for a camp that would help me complete an utter and complete impulsive buy for an ironman competition in May 2011.  GPP Fit, GPP endurance, Salt Lake City, Utah and Lizz Bennett and Wes Johnson were all terms (and athletes) foreign to me.

as was a co worker with a sticker on her computer screen reading "140.6"  that led me to  buy a bike, a wetsuit, some googles and make a reservation for a camp that was sure to kick my ass this way to Sunday.  and leave no doubt, it did.

to date, even after two ironman competitions, 4 marathons, and a bucket load of 10k's i have never been so exhausted.  physically. and yet i' ve never felt so alive emotionally.  i rode, swam and ran harder and faster than i myself ever imagined was possible. and away i came with friendships and lifelines that i only hope someone reading this can experience.

its hard, no impossible, to believe that was two years ago.  who pays for these things?  who pays to do partner squats and burpees, swimming for hours only to ride a 50 mile loop and run a half marathon all in the same day?  who gets lost on a course only to have a random stranger pick you up, go for coffee and talk about how yes, you very well might be the same person?  i still don't know what drove me to enter that strange city or what made me go to dinner that night with a group of people i was more nervous to meet than a first blind date. but i did.

my competitors might not agree because out of that camp i gained myself back, i got faster, i got stronger.  i was the old curry and then some  after that weekend and well the rest is history.........

happy 2 year anniversary to my new start, to my utah family (north and south) and thank you for helping me to "create my path".

why i run

2 months has seemingly passed me by without a blog update, the holidays and a surprise stint as RD got in the way, which puts me exactly five race reports behind (four official, one "unofficial").  As many of you know I’m on a PR quest this year although admittedly I will not make my NYC marathon qualifier of a 1:30, at least not in my January time frame unless an act of God hits or i drop 15 pounds of holiday weight and/or they suddenly allow for rockets on the back of running shoes.  It was with this same type of dreaming that I went into the Venice Beach 10k.  Appropriately, I asked the fasted person I know to pace me to a 44:00 minute finish. he said yes even though sometimes pacing me is much more painful than one might ever want to sign themselves up for.  I’m competitive and tend to get in a zone that is unbreakable once I begin.  My cheeks turn a bright shade of red, selective hearing and bitch mode kicks in.

the next four races i ran without a "pace car" and seemingly did okay and i mention this because  this blog entry should probably be a summary of all the official races i've managed to complete.  a dictation of elevation, swag reviews, hilly course descriptions and who had the best beer at the finish line (New Years Race, Los Angeles.  Sierra Nevada)  but instead i'm choosing to go the typical "curry route" and take a different direction.  i am choosing to write  about my one "unofficial" race.

i've written in blog posts prior about my sisters and their influence on me as both an athlete and a dream seeker.   so it is again that i write how they both encouraged me without their knowing to make my debut as an unofficial race director.   every year i make my trek home to the cold weather that awaits in December to spend Christmas with my family in the city of brotherly love.  typically, i do some training runs while i'm home and try to get my middle sister out of her house of four children.  (not an easy task for obvious reasons)  she humored me this year and mentioned if i found a race she would run with me.

i began my search and came up short with an unsurprising nothing. so i decided i would create my own race,  a 5 mile run through valley forge park that we both had done a million times prior.  it started innocent enough with a few friends showing interest and somehow grew to a facebook page with 49 accepted "yes" replies.  in conjunction with my debut i was talking to a friend deployed in Afghanistan who mentioned he was doing some volunteer work overseas for Afghanistan children to teach them english.  he had casually mentioned that they needed some basic school supplies.

  my initial goal was simple, run a race with my sister.  what it turned into was much, much greater.

on december 22nd close to 25 people braved the cold windy weather each carrying bags of school supplies and monetary donations for an organization that was foreign to everyone just days prior.  my mother donned her santa hat, my 3 year old nephew brought his running shoes, and my two sisters, my mom, a former middle school principal and dozens others started on our route for the "unofficial/official" Christmas run in Valley Forge Park.

official races are great, tech tees are an added bonus but there is nothing greater than getting a bunch of crazy runners together, most of whom i'd only known through facebook posts and race reports prior.

we finished our 5 miler and "mom" 1 mile fun run (at the request of my amazing mother)  with good spirits and dunkin donuts coffee and munchkin holes at the finish line.  we even had some six packs of chocolate ale to sip.  which for the record is perfectly acceptable at 10 am post run.

people often ask me why i run, what do i find so intriguing about it?  this race is my answer.

later that week i sent out two huge boxes to cat and the hat language arts center in bagram, Afghanistan.  and later that night i thanked God for the opportunity to spend the holidays with my family doing what i love the most.

running.