exercise

All good things are wild, and free.

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“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” – Henry David Thoreau

I spent my Sunday morning in the woods around Walden Pond. This is notable because:

  1. In 34 years (most of them as a historical and literary nerd) I’ve never actually been to Walden Pond
  2. One of the reasons I wanted a car (I bought a car!) was to hike
  3. … and specifically to hike alone, which I’ve never done before.

I love hiking with my mom and other friends, but I wanted to be able to have adventures on my own schedule – which is the reality I’ve been creating for myself since I returned to the city in mid-May. Dates at far-away mini-golf courses, distanced visits to see kiddos and friends I’ve missed, kayaking after work, checking out new bakeries, eating ice cream on the beach, exploring the outdoor world as much as is safe and enjoying every mile (other than that one harrowing rainy drive through Malden…).

Today I needed fresh air, and using my AMC guidebook basically as a “Choose Your Own Adventure”, I found my way to Walden Pond.

I explored the Pond Path, where the splash and babble of the swimmers on the shores below made it feel like I was at the beach. And I took the Esker Path to Emerson’s Cliff – where the non-view made me laugh out loud with only the red squirrels as my audience.

Then I sat by the shore and painted, using pond water with my watercolors and pen. Off to one side was a fallen tree, cordoned off by swim buoys. I painted the way the water was inky where it touched the bark, and where the green pine needles reached down to meet the shadows. It was part of the scene, this Walden life.

Only it turns out – it wasn’t. Pond patrol motored by at one point and I heard the boater say to some nearby swimmers that the hollow tree, formerly a shore menace, had finally fallen just on Thursday – mere days earlier.

It struck me that from where I sat, this thing seemed permanent… inevitable. In fact, it had only just happened and was being dealt with shortly. In a week it likely won’t be there any longer.

It reminds me of this whole situation in the world. It feels like we have been masked and afraid and apart for ages. But when this is over, we will say – that wasn’t forever, it just looked that way from the shore.

We can be the buoys that keep each other safe in this moment – and only once we’ve earned it can we go back to a new normal view.

On the banks of the Connecticut River

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About this time 13 years ago, my mailbox was flooded with wave after wave of college brochures. From near and far, everyone was sending beautiful campus scenes and course options my way. 

Among the massive piles of mail was a three page spread from a liberal arts college in Western Mass. It showed women rowing – a team of strong individuals out on the water with the mist rising around them. I kept it while I recycled most of the rest.

Many college visits and applications later, I visited that place. I met those nerds, sat in their classrooms, debated whether Hillary Clinton would run for president and if Harry would defeat Voldemort. And I chose that school for my college education.

This weekend, I went back to Mount Holyoke with one of the best treasures of my time there – my friend Kate (she of Mount Washington hiking fame, loyal readers) – to celebrate the thing that brought us together: 40 years of rowing on the Connecticut River.


Kate coxed our 8 (the O’Malley) and we rowed up and down the river. A flood of memories washed over me. How carrying the boat seemed easier now but stretching my legs right seemed harder. How to lock the oar for the catch and keep good swing in your slide. The commands I know from muscle memory – just like I remembered that one place where your thumb rubs on your outer hand and will DEFINITELY turn into a blister. And how amazing it feels when the boat glides across the choppy water of a New England river. 

Fun fact: our coach thought we were the same person for 3 seasons. Wearing matching clothes by accident still doesn’t help.

At night, we celebrated the christening of a new boat – blessed with champagne and river water – in honor of fellow alum and Olympian Mary Mazzio. At the dinner that followed, she told us about how getting through excuses and focusing on herself rather than her competitors made the difference in her success. And she reminded us that pull ups are “money in the bank” and was appalled at how few of us could do them. Sorry Mary!

I feel like I was blessed with river water myself this weekend. It was a beautiful reminder of the best decision I ever made – and all I gained from that charming, powerhouse of a college. And to think… it all started with this poster.

I came, I saw,… I’m not going back to crossfit

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I love a good health trend.  From novelty races like the Color Run to switching to agave instead of honey in my tea, I find that while health and exercise trends might not actually make a huge difference in my life, it’s fun to change things around now and then to keep myself energized.

So I was ready to love crossfit – to have some reason to shell out $200 a month for a new gym, to make some new friends, to stretch some new muscles.

And I hated it.

I write this from the morning after a free crossfit demo in Boston’s Back Bay, courtesy of City Sports.  I can’t move most of my body, so I guess that’s supposed to mean that I had a good workout.  But really, it just makes me mad.

Mad that during the hour-long session, we got lectured for half the time about how crossfit is going to help us with all aspects of our life, like “reaching for flour at work” (are we all bakers??)… something I can’t even do in my soreness.  Mad that it was marketed as being about your own strength, your own 100%… but the rest of your team isn’t allowed to go on until you finish those burpees.  Mad that when the small medicine balls ran out, we had to use one that was double the size, and just deal with it.  Mad that when I asked for an adjustment because my hip flexor was killing me, the trainer said “There’s really no substitution… I guess you could do push-ups if you really needed to,” implying that instead I should just tough through it.  And REALLY mad that after an exercise session that was supposed to be about working brand new muscles, we were given zero minutes to stretch after – no instruction, no finale, no warning about how important it is to properly cool down these new muscles, just “Don’t forget to check our onboarding program!”

That was your chance to wow me, crossfit, and you blew it.  I’m going back to Zumba, boot camp in the park, and 5ks where costumes are required – at least they don’t hurt me.

All the colors of the wind

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Second annual Color Me Rad – check!  Compared to last year, this year’s run at the Brockton Fair Grounds was:

  • More crowded, with waves starting from 8 AM through the afternoon
  • Better organized, with good parking options and clearly marked areas
  • More flexible – they actually invited you to start whenever you were ready instead of making you stick to a certain wave
  • More colorful – the color felt a little bit more spread out than last year, but we got more of it early on and felt like we were really getting the point without trying too hard (no rolling around on the ground this year thank goodness – that stuff took forever to get off of my stomach!)
  • Less crowd-focused at the end – last time, we all finished together and then had a giant party.  Here, there was a host and people dancing constantly, but there wasn’t an all-out bash with group color throwing like there was last time.  Hence, it would have been nice to have a slightly larger team together.
  • Slightly more athletic – this was less winding through a parking lot and more of an actual course.  It felt really easy though (other than mom’s blisters), probably because we were still in good share from our half marathon training.
  • 50% more rad – the mirrored sunglasses, the knee socks, the music – it was all quite fabulous.   Also hoping that their new instructions for keeping the color in actually work (last year they said soak in vinegar and it failed – this year they recommended spray adhesive.  Fingers crossed!).

Onward to next year, and to seeing if I can get this dye off of my shorts!

Color Run 2013

Starting summer strong

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Summer opens up a million new ways to soak up the sunshine – even as work stays intense, weekends are filled with weddings and traveling, and patios serve up delicious food and drinks.

So I’m keeping moving this summer with some new, some old, and some totally free practices.  Here’s where you can find me this summer:

  • Playing softball with Social Boston Sports – we started the season as a group of free agents, but now we’re “Loose Change,” the friendly, talented, and generally awesome softball players who hit the fields by the Charles every Sunday evening.  After the season ends in two weeks, we’re moving to another field to keep the fun going as a real team!
  • Biking for the first time in years.  I just got my biked tuned up and practiced riding it up and down the street today, without worrying about what my neighbors might think about a 27-year-old going in loops like a kid.  Next up, taking it on the bike path (once my lights come in!).
  • Free boot camp and outdoor exercise at Post Office Square – this is the awesome free one that I want to see YOU at!  Sara and I went today and it was awesome – basically group training, if not personal training.  The downtown location is perfect for me, the 7:15 start time gives me time for breakfast and a shower before work, and the trainers are really nice.  Not near you?  How about one of these other awesome outdoor exercise classes throughout the city?  
  • Running!  Just because our half marathon is over is no excuse to stop running.  I have two 5ks coming up, including Color Me Rad in July.  I also got in a good sunset mile run around my neighborhood last week – when the sun stays out so long, I might as well join it!
  • Dancing the night away.  I think I got about a year’s worth of exercise at Katey and Sal’s wedding, between all the shimmying and shaking and grooving.  So much fun, and dancing just makes me want to dance more… more… more!  Let’s dance!

What are you doing to keep moving this summer?

Baby, we were born to run

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This spring has been anchored in running.  Run because you’re strong.  Run because you want to feel better.  Run long because you’re sure as heck not running the Boston marathon.  Run in honor of those who were there that day.  Run in the cold.  Run on the bike path.  Run on the rail trail with mom on the weekend.  Run run run run run.

On Sunday, we finally had the run we were waiting for: my very first half marathon.

The start line at the Cox Providence Half Marathon was gray and overcast – we had lots of company at the 14:00 mile marker, including lots of cops in riot gear.  When the race finally started (late), we started out under cloudy skies.

Cox Start Line

But the next three hours got brighter and brighter, metaphorically speaking, as mom and I ran.  Even though the first half was entirely uphill, it was spotted with awesome sights (thanks, dude playing a banjo on the porch!), beautiful houses, our awesome family and fan club who we got to see SIX times between the start and the finish, some friendly competition with some other gals who were running at the same pace as us, and more.

It wasn’t always easy – the hills were killer, and the downhills made my knees ache even as I was grateful for a change.  We got super hungry halfway through (working out for hours can do that to you!) and it rained for a bit.

And yet.

Through the race, I felt stronger with every footfall that reverberated off the pavement.  With every inch behind us, we got closer to this amazing accomplishment.  The area by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society’s water stop was paved with inspirational posters that literally brought tears to my eyes – notes about how we run because they can’t, how we run because they can, how we run because they – survivors, patients, loved ones – once did.   Because of the 20+ names on my back that spoke to just how much blood cancer can touch a life.  And because 15 years ago this spring, I was a sick, bald kid in a hospital bed who wasn’t sure I would live to have my first kiss, and today I was a successful woman, running a stellar, challenging race.

When we passed mile 10, I took one step further than I’ve ever gone in my life.  And it got better – the final leg of the race course merged with the full marathon course, and we go an extra boost from finishing alongside some quite fast marathoners.

As we got near the finish, we could see the crowd ahead.  All up and down the sidewalk were fellow runners, family members, neighbors, friends, and students, all out to cheer us on.  Their cheers built into a roar of bells and applause and screeches to push us across the finish line.  You might have thought that the area around that yellow line would be a little less populated this time around, but you would be absolutely, delightfully, overwhelmingly wrong.  Instead, people showed the best of themselves, and passed it on to everyone else around them.

Mom and I crossed the finish line at 3:05:50 – much faster than we expected, with an average pace of 14:11 (including a bathroom break!).  We ran into the arms of our loving family – Kat, Dad, and Wes – and smiled through our sweat.  “We actually did it,” we said to each other, holding our weird anchor medals in our hands.  “We finished!”

Half marathon May 2013

This was my first half marathon, but it’s certainly not my last.  This confirmed the one thing that I was actually afraid of in this whole process – the concept that I can truly do anything.  And now, I have no excuse not to try.

Thank you for all your support this year – I can’t wait to tell you about the next adventure… just as soon as I decide what it is!

IMG_4321

A colorful life

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Alternative titles:

  • Colors of the wind
  • Color me awesome
  • Color-issa explains it all – rad and in action
  • This is why I’m blue

This dye is never going to come out of my ears, my socks, and the space behind my knees – and I couldn’t be happier.  My mom, friends, and I just finished Color Me Rad 5k at South Shore Plaza in Braintree, MA.  This Color Run knock-off was a rip roaring good time, and not even that much running, for better or worse!  But really, it’s a story better told in technicolor photos:

The crew before the race

The aftermath, as seen in my hair

The scene, with my teammates

Me and Mom – Color Me Rad racers extraordinaire!

The team post-run – we’re a colorful bunch!

Mom shared her lessons here, if you want to hear more about the logistics of this mayhem.  Bottom line though: if something sounds crazy, and messy, and athletic, and outdoorsy, and you can do it with your friends, AND you can be home in time for brunch – do it.  Always and forever.  You won’t regret it, though your car door might be a little blue for a while (sorry Mom!).

Happy Sunday!

Weekend victories

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The highlight reel:

  1. Finished the Tory Row 5K  with mom in less time than we predicted – AND not being last!!!
  2. Got all my herbs and tomato plants into the ground before brunch
  3. Snagged the last three seats at brunch at Highland Kitchen (beignets = best recovery food ever!)
  4. Went on a shopping spree with Katie and bought everything we ever needed, and very few things we didn’t (that hat was too good to pass up)
  5. Finally used my Christmas bonus to buy myself an awesome new camera – expect to see lots more pics soon!
  6. Explored new shops in Harvard with Beth despite the rain
  7. … and still snuck in a two hour nap in our newly-cleaned living room

Now THAT’s what I call a weekend!

The numbers game

/ SallyJBrz / 3 Comments

The life of a woman in 2012 often feels like a numbers game.  The number of calories in each granola bars, the number of times per week you go to the gym, number of ounces of water you “need” to drink each day, the number of hours you sleep each night (and what time that sleep starts, even!) and the ultimate number: your weight.

I’ve been working for years to see beyond the numbers.  When I was on the crew team in college, it became abundantly clear that the sleep number mattered most (though it was thoroughly unattainable), and the calories and number on the scale needed to cease to matter – only with this view did I turn into a strong woman with broad shoulders (I literally had to go out and buy new shirts) and strong calves.  But in the post-college world, I’m surrounded by numbers again, and seemingly ridiculous ways to reach them.  Why give up running if it’s your passion, just because it’s forcing your weight to plateau?  And can you really live a life without chocolate (who would want to??)?

Recently, Alice Randall penned a New York Times Op-Ed calling for black women to commit to setting a new standard for curves and getting under 200 pounds.  I don’t disagree with her health-based reasoning – I operate on the idea that you should avoid every kind of cancer you can (because they might sneak up on you anyway) and that theory can extend to other diseases.  But what I really love about her writing is the blow-back it’s gotten and the debate it started.

All the opinions are interesting, especially the way they question stereotypes about fat and thin people, but the message that I really love here is that instead of focusing on any one number, we’re bringing it back to health.  How much fat do you have around your heart, rather than how much weight is around your hips.  How often you dare to take the huge staircase at work instead of who wears an XS top and who’s in an XXL.  And who is moving, shaking, and living their life, and going to get more out of it as a result.

This is my goal: to feel strong, and hot, and like I can take on anything without starting to wheeze.  To look good in my clothes no matter what size they may be.  And not to punish myself with ill-fitting clothes because I’m striving to be a perfect size __, and still working every day to be a better ME.  And doing it in a way that makes me happy – Hunger Games gym classes, post-work swims, and everything in between, no matter what parts of me get overly muscular and what parts stop shrinking.

Because what really matters is the life that these numbers help you live – and at the end of the day, isn’t it better to enjoy life than to stop and measure?

What do you think about Randall’s article and these responses?