Running has continued to be therapeutic for the most part.  Someone told me that running is a great way to work through stress, disappointment or sadness.  And I find that that is where my thoughts tend to go – almost inevitably – at some point in a 10 mile run.  (I think the reality is that a 1o mile run really has time for just about any kind of thought – so maybe it’s just inevitable that you will explore all of your emotional states on a journey that long!).

Anyway, as always, the music plays a huge role in my run…..  and when I’m feeling down, the lyrics from “Airplanes” by B.O.B. seem to fit.  “I could use a dream or a genie or a wish, to go back to a place much simpler that this” seems to sum it up – at least the sadness part.  And when I hear those lyrics as I run, I contemplate what I would wish for, and the return to a simpler time often seems quite appealing.  Sadness right now, in my life, seems to come from some sense of overwhelmed or overcommitted.  And yet, along with being overdone, sometimes I think I’m internally or inherently or perhaps intrinsically under-done.  I spend time caught up in the business of kids schedules, housework, meals, laundry, my own school commitments, and even my running schedule – that I have little time to slow down and appreciate where I am.  To sit in the sunlight and feel a sense of peace in just being.

And then, I almost have to laugh at myself, because having these thoughts is a luxury of having the time to think…. and somewhere in my run, where I find my state of melancholiness, I have also found that time that I think I’m missing.  I’m not sitting in the sunlight, but I have in some ways left home and work and the daily grind behind (literally and figuratively!) – and I am engaging in that time of introspection. 

I love the music on these runs… because it brings me down, but while there is a coming down… there is certainly always a way back up.  I’ve been especially motivated after some of the sad stretches by Eminem, and “Lose Yourself”.  First off, there is hardly a song with a better running beat!  But the words work perfectly too when you’re feeling down…  “You better lose yourself in the music, the moment.  You own it, you better never let it go.  You only get one chance, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime.” 

And that’s the truth really….  life… it’s once in a lifetime.  And maybe the best is to lose yourself in the moments….  the busy-ness.  Maybe rather than allowing the moments to own you, you need to own them.  Make your choices, find time to reflect (and maybe run!) – and then, embrace it and enjoy it, and take hold of it.  Because the truth with most of the busy-ness and stress that I have in my life is that I’m not willing to let any of it go.  It’s a lot sometimes, but each part of it matters to me - I need to run less on empty and more on Eminem.  Not that that’s possible really… but running in general seems to give me a bit of a pep-talk – the music helps move me – and suddenly, I’m further down the road (literally and figuratively) than I thought.

In truth, I think I believe that fantasy even more than I actually believe I am approaching 35 and the mother of three young children.  How weird is that?  Because I can tell you, that fantasy of the super hot 17 year old confident dancer was never even remotely true.  Yet somehow, that feels almost closer to me than my reality.

The part I don’t understand in this fantasy/reality paradox is why I feel so distant from the reality I love so much.  I actually love where I am in life, even if I struggle  some with the balance between motherhood and “me-ness”….

But I know I’m not turning 35.  I know that I didn’t graduate from college 12 years ago.  I mean, I’m still planning my halloween costume for the biggest party of the year!!  Or at least, it seems like that could be a possibility.

Somehow, I think, as a child I had this clear conception of my parents as older… and that affects me to this day as I reach ages I associate with “age”.  I guess maybe my parents weren’t so old after all – maybe they were cruising around to the Lady Gaga of their time picturing themselves as hot and sexy on the dance floor…. hmmm… that is just not a good image – parents and sex appeal just don’t go together.

What is it about parenthood that requires the perception of age?  I’m thinking that it is wrapped up in security perhaps.  For so long, we think that as long as our parents are there, we are safe.  There could have been a major catastrophe, but I’m pretty sure that as long as my parents could hold my hand or give me a hug, I’d have felt peace inside.  Perhaps this can only come about if you see them as older.

What’s amazing about parenthood though, is realizing that you are that sense of peace for your children.  When I consider that, even briefly, I feel an emotion filled sense of wonder.  I am that….  that safety, that calm, that everything will always be okay.  I am magic.  That is my actual reality.  And that is amazing.

Yep… Lady Gaga is fun, and being 17 and super hot is pretty great too.  Definitely a pick me up when exercising.  But it’s not too hard to figure out what is better in the fantasy/reality paradox.  I’ll take motherhood any day, even if it means I’m getting old.  Though in my head, sometimes, I’ll still be dancing….

I’ve been struggling with this, wanting to write, but having trouble putting words to my feelings.  Am I happy?  Of course.  I’m happy.  I keep telling myself that, and waiting for the elation to follow.  Yet somehow, I just feel deflated.  And so, I’ve struggled with what to say…. what to write here.

In a seemingly unrelated place today, I think I’ve found a bit of insight.

My earliest blog fans seemed to enjoy my essay on running and my use of music for inspiration.  I have actually avoided the subject of exercise in my blog for some time now as well –  because having finished the Couch to 5K program more than a year and a half ago, I basically fell off the exercise bandwagon completely.  This has been somewhat of a source of depression, because I want to be a person who exercises, but somehow, I continually make excuses instead of incorporating it into my life.

I became recently acquainted with a unique exercise regimen that I have decided to take on.  I suppose it can be customized to any person’s ability, but the idea for me is that I must run at least 1 mile a day for 100 days.  The concept being that by just making a small commitment to exercise in your day, every day, it will become habitual – you will learn the consistency of exercise, and perhaps even slowly increase your distance, though that’s not a requirement.  I decided almost immediately that this was the challenge for me….  100 days gets me 1/3 of the way through the year, exercising every day.  That will truly be a huge first for me.  And since right now I am capable of running a mile in about 11 minutes, it is a really small commitment of time….  There’s almost no way you can excuse yourself from 11 minutes of exercise a day…. especially when you have an elliptical sitting unused in your garage just waiting for you to try the “rainy day” excuse.  And I’m turning 35 this year, so this is going to be my present to myself….I am going to become consistent in caring for me.

As I’ve written before, the key for me with exercise is music….so I have already started reestablishing my running mix.  No Akon this time  — I’ve been enjoying a little Train, Vampire Weekend, Hellogoodbye, and Phoenix  (and I’m hiding the fact that there’s some Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga and Katy Perry in the mix too….I know, I’m practically a 15 year old girl with my music tastes, it is a bit embarrassing.)

Today, as I turned on my ipod while making dinner, and old favorite began to play….Tracy Chapman, Fast Car.  Is there anything much more hypnotizing than her voice?  I immediately thought of my running mix, and realized that there is just no way that Fast Car fits, no matter how much I love it…. it’s just too slow.

And here is where it comes, the connection – Judge Walker, Prop 8, 100 days, running and Tracy Chapman, (if I can make it for you….)

Sometimes, the slow path is what you have…. and because it’s what you have, it’s the best.  Which doesn’t mean that you can’t imagine a better way, it just means that you can’t have it.  I don’t really want to run 100 days in a row….I want to do a 10K tomorrow, I want to be a person who sticks with exercise easily.  But I’m not.  I have the 100 day plan, because that is what will bring success for me (I hope).

Judge Walker’s decision is what we have.  It’s the best that we could get.  But I can imagine something different.  I can imagine a world where Prop 8 never passed, where committed GLBT couples can have an expectation of acceptance….Where Judge Walker’s decision flipped a monumental switch and everything changed, and equality existed.  But it didn’t….it’s a long haul still.  The decision is on hold and the Supreme Court is probably going to weigh in.

And every day, people are falling in love, committing to each other, and having babies….and worrying about acceptance and whether or not the law will protect them.

I hear Tracy Chapman, and I want it to work….I want to fly away from this world to the one where this isn’t an issue for debate.  I want to do a 10K tomorrow, and I want Tracy to be part of the mix.  But instead, I have the 100 day challenge….the slow and steady path – 1 mile at a time.  And the truth is, Tracy doesn’t fit.  Eventually I’ll get to 100 miles and that will be quite a distance to have come.  And I know that eventually, equality will come too, and it will have come from much further than 100 miles.  And so Judge Walker’s decision is the best, because that is what we have…and I’m happy, really, I am.   And also, I’m sad.  Because I want a fast car….

This past week, I read an essay entitled On Being a Grownup by an old friend from high school.  In addition to making me laugh, I found myself later reflecting on what being a grown-up means to me.  Working at exercise is something adults do.  As a kid, exercise was fun.  It was a gymnastics class with a trampoline, a soccer game in the backyard, building a snow fort, or raking leaves into fun shapes (yeah.. how manipulative were my parents!?)  It certainly wasn’t getting up before you were ready, hurrying out the door in the dark and cold, and forcing your muscles to complete three miles of agony – arriving back at home at a time you should still have been sleeping.  “Blah” is exactly the right expression.

But as I ran this morning, “Into the Groove” by Madonna began playing…  and with my introspective grownup glasses on, I reflected on the 80′s, and Madonna as I ran.

Madonna and the 80′s.  For me, this was a time of some serious dancing.  Maybe in my bedroom, or backyard (with my tape player and earphones), maybe in my cousin’s basement where we held pretend microphones and whirled around to the music.   Not long after Madonna broke onto the scene came the movie, Girls Just Want To Have Fun.  Complete with a great 80′s soundtrack, Sarah Jessica Parker took Dance TV by storm – and I later repeated her winning routine many times over in my bedroom.  Could there be anything better than Janey, defying her father’s wishes, to dance her way to stardom??  Wow, those were the days.  I was inherently cool and talented as I bee-bopped around with my huge hot pink earrings and big hair.  Oh, what a feeling. 

Suddenly, I found as I ran, and Madonna continued to play, I was back in the basement with my cousin.  I pretended each step on the pavement was another step in an amazing dance routine.  I wasn’t facing the agony of my muscles, I was whirling around, in time to the music, and the crowds were cheering.  I was the ultimate Dance TV winner.  Maybe I am just really good at deluding myself, but it worked and I was smiling.  Laughing, nearly.   

Being a grownup doesn’t have too many completely free moments.  I’m not sure I could dance as crazily around my house as an adult, as I did as a child.  Okay, maybe as crazily, but not as carefree.  I am tired, self-conscious, and constantly juggling the to-do list in the back of my head.  I might try to let that all go for awhile, but it would still be there lurking in the back – in a way it never was for me as a child. 

But as I ran, for that little bit, I was there – freed to relax and enjoy the memory because I was actively completing a part of the to-do list.  And after the song ended, something else came to me.  Exercise isn’t very fun for me.  But I exercise because I don’t want to miss anything.  I want to grow old to enjoy and appreciate the colors of fall even if I have to rake the leaves, to cheer on the sidelines of soccer games and shuttle kids to gymnastics, to watch my children grow and become adults with interesting opinions and ideas, to savor the quiet mornings of retirement with a slow sipped coffee, to read good books and talk to interesting people, and maybe, to get old enough to lose some of the self-consciousness and dance again with abandon…

The sacrifices of lost freedom, hard work, and even the exercise – are a small price to pay for the wonders of being a grownup.

Get up on your feet and step to the beat – being a grownup is like dancing on the ceiling.

The reality of my age has set in.  My metabolism is slowing, and my body is growing.  I have taken a few approaches to dealing with this situation as it has presented itself.  First, I attempted the tried and true method of ignoring the problem.  This has actually worked for me in many instances…  it is amazing what a child will learn to do for themselves if you don’t respond too quickly to the loud call of “MMMMOOOOMMMMYYYYYYY!”  I also find this tactic works well in health matters (though don’t tell my doctor).  Sprained ankle… (not that it’s happened to me in my sedentary lifestyle) but my advice to others, “walk it off”.  Most colds, fevers, minor ailments seem to solve themselves when left alone… Since I have also been imbued with a greater sense of calm confidence — or perhaps with three children under six I just have no other choice —  I ignore things all the time – and for the better.  But ignoring the slowing metabolism was not having the expected effect, and my pants continued to tighten.

Second approach?  The fitness aisle of Target.  Video after video.  Now, many of these were not bad… fun actually the first few times through.  But by the fifth viewing of bouncing blondes smiling these overly happy grins and encouraging me onward. . . I had had enough.

I happen to live in a very fitness oriented community.  It’s weird actually.  I had never seen anything like this until I lived here.  When we recently relocated to the San Francisco Bay Area, I expected it to be remarkable because of its far leftward lean, and it is.  But unexpected was the overall commitment to fitness I’ve observed by my fellow bay dwellers.  Although truthfully, there is a slight comparison to the opening scenes of the television show Weeds where everyone is running, and wearing the same clothing…   a little Stepford-ish I suppose. (Which is humorous considering most people here deeply proclaim a sort of anti-Stepford mentality.)   And yet, when an average of 10 people pass your house an hour doing some sort of exercise – you start to feel like an actual bag of oily salty potato chips…  which in my case is good.  I clearly needed some motivation.

Thanks to the internet, I have found a Couch Potato to 5K running program.  I am currently on week 6, building to a 2.25 mile run at the end of the week.  By the time 9 weeks have elapsed, I will be (hopefully) running a 5K.  The program has been working out pretty well.  I have yet to feel that gasping for air with a taste of blood in my throat feeling that I characteristically associate with running.  (Another demonstration of my relative life-long lack of a serious fitness routine I suppose.)  

 Invaluable in my quest has been my IPOD.  I have found rounding the next corner is MUCH easier when you have the beat to a great song blasting in your ears.  You can almost forget that your muscles are crying out to you, as mine often seen to be doing, “Stop this madness!”

Seriously though, the IPOD situation is where I have recently found myself in a dilemma.  My husband, being a serious music and IPOD devotee, set up a running mix for me, and is encouraging me to broaden my tastes past the 80′s music I would normally happily settle for.  I now have a mix of rock, rap, hip hop, latin, alternative, and of course, 80′s music filling my ears as my feet pound the pavement.  (I did veto country).  Much of this I have not enjoyed, and have been paring my list bit by bit… but some newcomers have been great – hence the problem.  At a particularly difficult moment in a run a couple of weeks ago, Akon’s I Wanna Love You started to play.  The music was amazing… just the right beat and sound, and I enjoyed it so much, I easily completed the run.  But as I ran, I couldn’t ignore the lyrics (which have nothing to do with love as exemplified by the lyrics, “cuz pussy is pussy and baby ur pussy for life”) – nor afterward could I completely ignore the nagging feeling that there was something not quite right about a devout feminist and mother to daughters enjoying a song with lyrics so degrading to the entire female population.  I have many times imagined how I would educate my daughters to think critically about the messages promoted in popular culture…  and here I was, tossing my core values aside for some great sounding music.  Luckily, my “running mix” has such a large number of songs on it that I wasn’t directly confronted with my Akon dilemma again soon. 

Still, a few other songs caught my attention as I was running and mulling the conflict between the enjoyment of a particular artist’s sound, and the abhorrence of the message included.  Unfortunately, more artists than Akon fell into this category….  and as my dependence on the music to finish the run grew, the dilemma weighed more heavily on my mind.  Would the greatest tool in my quest for physical fitness mean I would have to consider myself a hypocrite?  Was I so wavering in my commitment to my ideals that I would easily subvert them for a quick lift on a run?  As time passed, the nagging feeling became a full-fledged internal debate.  What kind of impact do songs like these have on society, on women, on teenage girls listening to them, singing the lyrics?  How much support do I lend these artists, and how much harm do I do by purchasing and listening to the music?  Is it possible to appreciate musical talent separately from the message promoted through the lyrics?  My logic told me that there were indeed some important conflicts here, and that the nagging voice inside of me was the voice I should be listening to.  But I wasn’t sure if this was a case where mind could triumph over matter…  I was left wondering if I could help myself – if I was going to find the music moved me despite my values.

Yesterday as I ran, I came to somewhat of an answer.  Akon entered the mix again, right as I was nearing the end of the run, and desperately needing a pick-me-up.  Surprisingly, the music did not inspire me.  In fact, I felt disgusted as I listened to it, and before I had even gone a block I found myself skipping forward to the next song.  It seems that the contemplation of the issue and the reflective thought on the lyrics was enough – the music had lost whatever appeal it had the first time. 

I read an article recently in Time Magazine (Vol 171 no. 23), “Taking on the Thin Ideal”  by Sanjay Gupta about how teenage girls who realized, “not only how they were being influenced but also who was benefiting from the societal pressure to be thin” were able to reject the “thin ideal” promoted by fashion magazines and developed healthier body images.  While most women realize that Barbie and fashion magazines together promote an unrealistic and unhealthy image of a female body, I think we often fail to think as critically about music.  Nonetheless, the lyrics to some great sounding songs are out there – objectifying and devaluing women.  Unfortunately some of these messages seem to be more concentrated in music genres popular with the younger members of society.  As my daughters grow into women, I hope they’re not singing along to this kind of song.  I’d much rather they be exposed to a message that tells them they can rise up, take pride in their strength, intelligence, womanhood and expect more from themselves, society and the men who will become part of their lives.

Having forwarded past Akon, I finished the last stretch of my run back in 1979 with Video Killed the Radio Star – no conflict there, just some fun.  This whole running thing has been pretty interesting.  I didn’t expect to explore my values while running, though I may have to credit the experience with getting me to week 6 – it is certainly an interesting train of thought to follow through the music as my feet head further down the road.  And my husband might be concerned that I haven’t expanded my music tastes enough, but I’m glad for the exercise  – it seems I have tested more than my body.