Gutcheck 2012

Last night I was invited to participate in an annual event: Gutcheck 2012. The event begins at The Irish Shanti in Gunder, IA with a feast – each participant devours a Gunderburger (a 22 ounce burger with fixin’s, click here for photos). After eating the Gunderburger, participants go for an 8-mile run through the nearby countryside. The 8-mile run is followed by the ingesting of a giant tenderloin. As the invitation says,

“Gunderburger + 8 miles + Giant Tenderloin = Gutcheck. Take as much time as you need, but you can’t yak.”
 

While it may sound strange, I have to say I’m honored to be invited. The crew who plans and participates in this event are all alumni, all were student-athletes (track and cross country), and all are decades younger than me. And while I am not a runner, and not likely to begin a running career with Gutcheck 2012, I have to say the concept appeals to me.

Not the part of the challenge that is all about not throwing up. But the concept of an event which requires you to push beyond the limits of what you have thought yourself capable of doing. That kind of exercise is valuable in many areas of life – not just the novelty run arena. Just imagine…

  • …if you pushed your limits by asking for what you want. In your job, in your relationships, from God. So often, I find myself holding back from articulating what I want – whether what I want is something I’ve already earned, something that should be accorded to anyone with whom we interact, or is simply something I want. Where is it written that wanting things is inherently wrong or selfish? Or that in order to have the things we want in life we need to wait in silence for those things to be given to us? I’ve come to believe that asking is often an eye opening experience for both parties, in part because until we say it to someone else, we often don’t know for sure what it is we want. But also, others cannot assist us in achieving the things we want if they don’t know or we don’t ask. And I have truly found that, by and large, people actually want to assist others in getting what they want in life.
  • …if you pushed your emotional boundaries and reached out to new people and new kinds of relationships in your life. How might your days be enriched by including a diversity of ideas, styles, personalities? Pushing the limits of my openness to others has brought amazing gifts to my life in recent years. The results: incredible people, wonderful experiences, nuances of friendship and relatedness I hadn’t known were possible. It isn’t easy to maintain openness, to push emotional boundaries. After all, we set those boundaries for a reason. But boundaries are meant to shift over time, and it is healthy to test and reshape them.
  • …if in the grand tradition of The Gutcheck, you pushed your physical limits beyond your comfort zone? What might you be capable of if you got out of your head and into your body? Here’s what I’ve discovered: my body, abused and tired as it was from years of excess weight and sedentary days, is AMAZING. Resilient. Strong. And capable of more effort, endurance and courage than I ever understood.

So, I may not participate in Gutcheck 2012: The Event. (Although I’m keeping my fingers crossed there’s a video again this year!) But I think it is important to occasionally stop and do a personal Gutcheck. In what areas of my life have I allowed myself to grow too comfortable with mediocrity? In what ways can I stretch myself in order to discover something new or to enrich my days? Sometimes, we might take too big of a stretch and end up yakking. So what? Yakking happens. It may not be polite to put it in these terms, but I’d rather throw up, make a mess, and move on than not make the attempt to stretch further in my life.

The Way of Love

When I was in high school I belonged to an inter-faith youth group. It was a special experience, but for the purposes of today’s post, I will just say that we used to sing. A lot. One of our favorite songs, often requested by churches when we sang at their services, was based on 1st Corinthians, the chorus saying, “If I have not charity, if love does not flow from me, I am nothing…Jesus reduce me to love.”

In the intervening years, I’ve heard and read these verses from 1 Corinthians many times. When I was in youth group, they were new to me, but even then they held a kind of deep call which has never disappeared. Although they are most frequently read at weddings, I have never associated them primarily with romantic love. Rather, the definition of love, the clarity provided about what love is and what love isn’t, has always seemed (and I believe was intended) to encompass a way of being in the world and an ideal to strive for in all relationships.

In college, I read the book, Unconditional Love by John Powell, who says “Unconditional Love means that I cannot always predict my reaction or guarantee my strength, but one thing is certain: I am committed to your growth and happiness. I will always accept you. I will always love you.”  And the idea of unconditional love became coupled with the verses from 1 Corinthians in my heart.

In graduate school counseling classes I became familiar with the phrase “unconditional positive regard“, which refers to a manner of being in the therapeutic relationship. But David G. Meyers, in his book Psychology: Eighth Edition in Modules, describes it beautifully and fully as something that can, it seems to me, be practiced in any relationship.  “This is an attitude of grace, an attitude that values us even knowing our failings. It is a profound relief to drop our pretenses, confess our worst feelings, and discover that we are still accepted. In a good marriage, a close family, or an intimate friendship, we are free to be spontaneous without fearing the loss of others’ esteem.”

We live in a world that encourages us to disengage from our truest selves. Whether that is because we have been victimized or traumatized, or whether we have been led to believe that who or what we are is “not normal”. In such a world, we are taught that the safest thing to do is keep our true selves hidden, covered over in tough, protective layers. In such a world, how is a good marriage, a close family, or an intimate friendship even possible?

The only available course I see is the way of love, as outlined in 1 Corinthians, or John Powell or one of dozens of other thinkers and spiritual leaders over the years.

In recent years, I have learned to open those closed chambers within myself and let the daylight in. It is never easy, even now that I’ve had practice. But I have discovered that there are others in my life who have committed to me unconditionally, who are willing to see me in the light of truth and still choose love. In spite of what this world we live in led me to expect, these people have chosen to love odd, imperfect, quirky, neurotic me in spite of seeing my darkness.

To the friends whose recent life events and revelations have led to this reflection, I promise to give as good as I’ve gotten. I can’t guarantee my strength or my ability to help you through your own protective layers. But this much is certain: I am committed to your growth and happiness. I will endeavor to be a safe place where you can drop your defenses, confess your worst feelings, and still find acceptance.

I cannot promise to approach perfect in any way. But I can strive to practice the way of love in my daily interactions. As Tom Cruise’s famous character Jerry Maguire says, “We live in a cynical world.” However, the way of love has no room for such cynicism. Love, after all,  “bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Here’s the honest truth: I got on the scale today but I didn’t like what it said. I didn’t want to share it with all of you. So I decided not to. Let’s just say it was a blip on the radar – a number that began with a 2.

I am actually not upset about it, because this past weekend was a weekend filled with delicious, soul-satisfying food and celebration (it ended with the baptism party for little Isaiah Kohl). I DO feel compelled to publicly share that Mike Beck is as good as his word – the man has bragged about his cooking, in particular his reubens and his lemon cake. He not only put his money where his mouth is, he convinced me that I will never eat either elsewhere without wishing he had been the cook. They were that good. So here’s to stopping and smelling (and eating) the lemon cake in life!

Flashback Friday: Bald Love

One year ago, on our spring break trip to Vegas, I snapped the first photo of my beloved baldies ( top photo left to right: Shane, Ryan, Dave). I then handed my camera to a friend, most likely Dave’s wife Wendy, to snap the second shot, with me in it (left to right: Dave, Me, Ryan, Shane).

These bald heads are precious to me.

I decided to repost these photos because today the brother-of-my-heart, Dave, is having major surgery on his noggin (that’s the official medical terminology). While I believe that all will be well, I can’t help but worry. So if you’re reading this, please say a quick prayer for Dave, Wendy and their three daughters (Abby, Katie, and Dani) – that the surgery and the recovery go well and as painlessly as possible. Thanks!

Discovering A Passion

One summer, between my 5th and 6th grade years, my parents bought me a bike: a bright yellow 10-speed with racing handlebars and thin tires that flew over the pavement. I rode that bike to the pool, to the soda bottler’s little convenience store, and as a getaway bike when my friends and I decided to run off with Suzie-Q’s without paying for them. The faster I went, the better. I had little to no fear. Until the day a kid who was making a career out of annoying me ran out into the street just as I was picking up speed going downhill. He pushed me from the side, and I went down. Hard. Some older boys in the neighborhood saw it happen. I never found out what they did to that poor kid, but one of the older boys came by my house later to assure me the pest wouldn’t be bothering me again.

Even though I wasn’t seriously hurt, that incident took some of the joy out of my riding. I was suddenly, viscerally, aware of how easy it was to get hurt at fast speeds. The spill, coupled with the fact that it was a time when teenaged girls were encouraged to give up such active pursuits, caused my bike riding days to dwindle to a close. The yellow ten speed was around for years after I stopped riding it – I’m not sure when my parents finally got rid of it.

A couple of years ago, my friend Sue and I decided we were in need of a real vacation, and picked a resort in Michigan right on the lake hoping for long hours on the beach. But the gnats and biting flies were so bad we could only take short bursts of time on the lounge chairs. The resort had bicycles available for check out, and even though it had been 25 or more years since either of us rode, we decided to take a couple bikes for a spin. We were wobbly and easily winded, but both had so much fun we returned to our respective homes and bought bikes.

The rest, as they say, is history. Last summer I upgraded to a better bike, a Trek hybrid, and trained for something I’d always wanted to do: ride a portion of RAGBRAI. I spent every spare moment all summer riding. I travelled hardly at all, in favor of getting more time “in the saddle”. You can read my two-part post about my RAGBRAI experience, if interested, here and here. It was amazing.

But after RAGBRAI, I found myself making excuses not to ride so much. Fall came and went, with barely an additional 75 miles on my bike’s odometer. In December, we had such mild weather that I was able to ride twice the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Now, our early spring has provided a couple of weeks of sunshine and warm weather perfect for cycling. At first, I had to negotiate with myself to get out by promising  myself a reward. I wondered if I had not really enjoyed biking as much as I told myself – I mean, this reluctance to get the bike out must mean something. Perhaps I had just liked the idea of liking an activity that well, or I enjoyed talking as if I was an enthusiast. Or maybe I just liked the challenge of RAGBRAI, and once that was checked off my bucket list I stopped needing to ride.

Then I rode.

To say that I enjoyed that first 28 miles is a true understatement. Here’s a partial list of the things I’ve discovered since getting back on my bike this spring:

  • I love the fluidity of cycling, the grace you begin to display as you grow more attuned with being on the bike.
  • On a bike, I am fiercely competetive – but only with myself. The other cyclists can do what they can do. Some are stronger and faster than me, others aren’t. But with the aid of attention to my body and my on-board “computer”, I can gauge how I am doing from one ride to the next. I can up my effort to see different results, I can privately crow with delight when my MPHs are up by an average of two miles. I can see my technical competence improving (I now know a lot more about using my gears than I ever thought I would, for example). On a bike, I am an athlete.
  • Bicycling has helped restore my love of the outdoors. The other day a snake crossed the path right in front of me. Trees that were budding on that ride were in bloom on my next ride a week later. The nature trail I primarily ride takes me along the river, and through woods. Yesterday, I felt something alive inside my helmet and reached up to brush it off me. That’s when I discovered it was a bee…even being stung didn’t dim my enjoyment of riding an easy 18 mph with a strong wind at my back.

I never expected to find a physical activity which is at once both challenging and deeply spiritual. I know many people feel this about running, or about yoga. In my adult life, exercise and physicality has usually been work, occasionally accompanied by a feeling of accomplishment. Never joy, until now.

This morning at the gym, just as class was beginning, one of the women said, “Jen, you’ve convinced me: I’m buying a bike!” I was touched, because I haven’t spent a lot of time trying to convince anyone to do anything – but I have spoken about what cycling has brought into my life. When we discover passion in our own lives, it has a way of igniting excitement, and sometimes igniting a kindred passion in someone else. My hope, today, is that each of you has the opportunity to feel and share a similar passion in your life, especially you fellow late-bloomers out there. Because a life on fire with delight is a wonderful thing at any age.

Andy Warhol, Goethe, and Me

“They always say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”

                                                                                                                                              — Andy Warhol

 

They always say…

Even though we can’t name them by name, can’t even generally define who they are, we all tend to have an amorphous “They” who exert extreme influence over us. They will think I’m stupid. They will judge me. They will be sure to spout all kinds of ridiculous opinions which cause me to question myself.

Don’t even get me started on the “always-es” and the “nevers-es”. They are full of those polarizing words, too.

They don’t know how to stop talking. Never mind how often it is in the voices of real people versus how often it is voices in our heads. They always have something to say to put us in our place.

…time changes things…

Time is such an interesting construct.

If you stand still, it will act like a stream which flows around you, the water moving, things floating past, but you stay in essentially the same place. Other things change, but you do not.

If you think of Time as a stream, and you try to move with the current, you may find you have moved but you are still surrounded by the things that you started with, because they moved with the same current. Nothing is essentially different, except that years have passed.

Time can also be a riptide, pulling you along in whatever direction it is moving. You have to be aware, not panicked – deliberate in your movements – in order to move where you hope to go, rather than where time is taking you. What time changes is mostly external to you. Internal change is like learning to swim out of a riptide.

…you actually have to change them yourself.

This is the daunting truth. The truth that stops us from actually creating change in our lives – we have to do it ourselves. And we know it will take hard work, sacrifice, and a willingness to stay the course when we are mostly used to taking an easier path.

The joy that I’ve discovered, though, is this: the internal voices, the imagined “they”, may clamor loudly at first, belittling your desire to change. But the external voices, the real people around you? They will come forward with a generosity of spirit that takes your breath away. They appear from unexpected quarters to cheer you on, to support your effort, to be part of the positive difference in your life. I know this both from personal experience, and from the many others who have shared with me their own experiences of bringing big change to their lives. They, your giving supporters, may not be the people you anticipated would be there for you. They may, in fact, be people you thought of as incidental to your life. Nonetheless, a new crowd of voices will develop to uplift you and to combat the negative voices you listened to in the past.

The second, almost magical, truth about deep change (especially if you are a late bloomer, like me) is what it does for your concept of time. You begin to learn that time doesn’t have to be a stream or a riptide. It can be a deep pool, in which you float in a relaxed but aware state. There is no past, there is no future, there is this moment. Every moment, as you live it.

If you are wondering whether you can change, whether there is a way to create a life more in line with the one you dream of living, the answer is simply YES. And yes, you actually have to do it yourself. But the first step, the beginning, is the hardest part. And many things will come together to assist you once you set your step to that path in a committed way.

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets:
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power and magic in it!”
                   — W. H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

Flashback Friday: St. Patrick’s Day, Philly

 

I posted these photos, and others, last year. But I wanted to post them again in celebration. But not really in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day – rather, I’m celebrating the one year anniversary of my trip to Philadelphia. The first time I’ve ever visited a major city by myself AND truly enjoyed it. I did all sorts of interesting things, perhaps none more “in the moment” than following a group of boisterous twenty-somethings who were all decked out for St. Patrick’s Day on a Sunday morning. I didn’t know where they were going, but I was curious and had my camera. The next two hours were spent happily observing and photographing the parade as groups lined up, dignitaries glad-handed (yes, I was mere feet from both a governor and a cardinal, whom I recognized from scandal-related stories and photos in the Sunday paper that morning)… and cute guys in kilts did…whatever!