Here’s the official video from Tough Mudder NorCal Tahoe. Yes, I got electrocuted. Willingly. Twice. (The Electric Eel is missing from the video though… ) More updates later. Long weekend with a sick dog and a sick me. In the meantime, are you tough enough?
HELL YEAH!
I read somewhere the other day or week or minute ago, pretty sure it was a quote post on someone’s Facebook, “Stop the glorification of busy.” Really, go back and read that again. Here, I will write it again and add a word or two for emphasis:
Stop already with the f’ing glorification of busy.
I want you to try and let it sink in, and feel a little disgust with busy. Think about how busy controls you, how easily you let the phrases, “I’ve/we’ve/you’ve been so BUSY, sorry, I’m just SO SO SO BUSY!” slip out of your mouth, or through your fingers into emails and txts and that you have completely lost control of the meaning of busy because you’re so fucking busy telling everyone how busy you are. I do it. You do it. We all do it.
I don’t think I want to enumerate the ways we all let our lives be consumed with tasks and stress, even to the point where planning a vacation is 100% stressful. (Oh wait, I have not taken more than seven days off in a row to relax and ‘vacate’ in close to 10 years.) You can read about busy here, (it’s a NYTimes piece and is fantastic) as I did this past June, BUT then did nothing to change my patterns. I am still equal parts busy and exhausted, stuck in a rut of believing that if only I can just get SO organized I will dominate my email inbox, my writing, my running, my social life, my hopes and my dreams. Obviously being organized is important, but bouts of mad desk cleaning in between long stretches of inbox chaos are still not solving my problem of feeling beholden to busy-ness. And bottom line, we all end up spending less quality time with the people we love because we are so damned busy doing whatever it is that keeps us so distracted and not getting enough sleep (that’s a big one for me…)
So here I am, the day before the Tough Mudder and nothing I have been drafting in notes has made it to posts from all the training I have been doing all summer. Because you guys, I am busy. And sorry, something had to give. And you know what? It was me. Ugh.
I am excited for tomorrow and 12 miles and 27 obstacles of muck and mire, but I am more excited to perhaps have finally found some courage to look for a better way than just “be more organized!” to combat the busy trap. I have totally coddled, enabled and now glorified Busy to the point where she is a screaming diva alcoholic toddler bridezilla spoiled starlet b-yotch from HELL and I am so OVER her. You should be over yours too.
I love a long summer shadow. Nothing busy here.
It’s that time again. Everything, not just the dusty casita, needs to be cleansed.
Here I am, in the middle of training for my third Tough Mudder and I just went on an epic 14-day too-much and too-little binge which included three and a half days of debauchery in Charleston, South Carolina. (You have not been debauched if you have not eaten and drank to excess in the deep South; not even Vegas compares.) It’s been too much caffeine, too little sleep, too much candy, too little veggies, too much bacon, too little quinoa, too much booze, too little water, too much laziness, too little exercise, too much TV, too little writing… it all boils down to no energy, no spark, dull skin and hard-to-button pants. And yes, once my pants are compromised, I pay attention. Vanity is a real bitch.
So today, with 35 days to go until Tough Mudder NorCal 2012, I am getting my cleanse on for a week or so, preparing the fridge for fruits and veggies, posting the blender in a prominent spot on the counter, and looking forward to some clean, bright, fresh eating and smoothie drinking. I am also slightly worried about procrastination winning again and the crippling caffeine headaches, but I just have to let the worry be there, and then take a deep breath and a sip of a smoothie to calm it down. I am going to try to incorporate more writing into the intended discipline here, as it’s all really connected and therapeutic. And I miss it.
I did get some encouragement to stop the Epic Binge from a Tough Mudder quiz I took, found on their fantastic website. After you look at the course map for what Mudtallica is facing, take the quiz for fun. Here’s my results:
Okay so I’m being a little dramatic with the above pic (taken at the end of last Thursday’s run) , but the light was low so I pixelated the shiz out of this for fun. Also, BECAUSE MY MUSCLES WOKE UP FROM THEIR HAZY, DOTTY, SPECKLED AMNESIA!! Just like Marlena on “Days of Our Lives” who had more bouts of amnesia and devil possessions that any other daytime leading lady in the history of soap operas, my muscles blinked a few times and remembered Roman. Or John Black. Or fake John Black.
Whatever, I’m feeling like a girl of 37! And I love my muscles.
Transition Time up in here. I have been every kind of cliche about busy since late August: swamped, up to both ass and eyeballs, running around like a chicken with my head cut off, crawling across the finish lines of each day, etc. I have actually been texting friends to ask if I texted them/voicemailed them/emailed them/snail mailed them because I CAN”T REMEMBER ANYTHING! Transition Time this time is pretty much all welcome and exciting change that I created for myself, as opposed to Transition Time that is forced upon you and mainly reactionary. That being said, I am nearing the end of my energy fueled by magic adrenaline, and now need to focus and balance and get back in front of the line. It’s a much more inspiring view up there.
As a reminder mostly to myself that I intend to write a post about the Tough Mudder, here is the official video of the NorCal event from last weekend. It was SO fun and SO beautiful up on the mountain and that beer tasted SO good at the end. Here’s a sip.
How much fun was the Tough Mudder?!
Think of your funnest day ever, then put it at 8,000 feet above sea-level and spray water cannons at it and make it a bluebird day and have about 3,000 athletic, ridiculously good-looking be-costumed guys and gals (and if you’re a gal, there’s way more guys, so BONUS FUN!) and add free beer too, and a lot of purchased beer later, and you have yourself a Top Ten Funnest Weekend of All Time. Oh my holy stars did we have a blast! (Except for one rolled ankle, the loss of three of everything – clothes, shoes, gloves, socks, and uniform shirts – and almost hitting a deer on the drive up. But the generous amount of fun and constant laughter kept our attitudes soaring above pain or fear and hatred of thieves and/or over-zealous janitors.)
In the spring I proposed this crazy idea to a group of good friends, all of whom had had particularly rough patches ranging from financial insolvency to break-ups to life threatening illnesses in parents and scariest of all, kids. The group that came together was smaller than we started with, but all were there in spirit, the four standing Mud Hunnies carrying the challenge for the rest. This was one of those experiences where my intentions for the event and the outcome I envisioned were in perfect synchronicity. I marveled at the absence of struggle over the logistical minutiae: food was bought, recipes planned, shirts designed and decorated, housing secured, the bigger car was available. It all just fell into place!
Mud Hunnies 2010
So off we went to Bear Valley, the Land That Time Forgot, or perhaps, just the inspiration for the ski village in “Hot Tub Time Machine.” To get to Bear Valley, we had to travel through Copperopolis (“I passed through the seven levels of the Candy Cane forest, through the sea of swirly twirly gum drops, and then I walked through the Lincoln Tunnel…”). Yes, it is a real place, but seems like it might be inhabited by pod people who sell ice cream cones, lottery tickets, and expound on the copper mining history of their “town.” We left peel-out marks for fear they’d start eating our brains, or worse, our totally rock-solid quads which we really needed for all the climbing in store.
The event itself was, in a word, hellacool. (With the exception of Lost & Found, it was also very well organized: I asked a Forest Ranger what he thought and he said that in 30 years with the Forest Service he had never seen such a well-run event. You go Tough Mudder!) Once we got signed in and took turns writing our bib numbers on our foreheads in permanent black marker (we are so badass), we headed to the start area with our wave. They spaced out the waves by 15 minute increments so that there would be less chance of back-ups at the obstacle stations. After some opening ceremonies with the national anthem (yes, I CRIED), the Tough Mudder Pledge, some bagpipes (yes, I CRIED, those fuckers should be illegal, there is a direct line from the pipes’ wail to my tear ducts), handshakes and hugs, and lots of pump-you-up shouting, we were off!
Hike: Ascent 2 of 3
From then on, we were confronted with hills up and hills down, mostly very steep, and every ½ mile or so, another obstacle. They ranged from belly crawling under wires to high-knees through tires, to climbing over giant charley-horses with the help of your team and others, to schelping a large piece of wood along a path, to being submerged in FAH-reezing cold water TWICE. And some other muddy stuff too. The hikes were the physically hardest of the course for sure. My teammates all said afterwards, with full bellies and beers in hand, that the course was not nearly as challenging as they had expected. I on the other hand kept having that perfection of synchronicity between intention, expectation and outcome. The course was just as hard as I needed it to be and as fun if not funner (!) than I imagined. And I imagined some seriously good fun! We decided it was a most excellent social event and that we are coming back for more next year.
We were THE VERY LAST CAR to leave the parking lot that afternoon. (Until we were the last to leave the bar back at the condo village that night.)
We are SO awesome.
Yesterday was one of those shiny perfect San Francisco days: bright autumn light, Giants in the playoffs and the Blue Angels roaring around the city for Fleet Week. When I left the office, which lucky for me is right next door to the ballpark, orange and black clad baseball fans were filling the streets and the completely bitchen jets were flying loud and low over all of our upturned eyes. When I got close to Embarcadero Center I smiled huge to see that they were flying a Giants flag at the very tippy-top! And I don’t give a hoot about baseball! I sent off a txt to several SF friends declaring my joy because it was too good not to share.
Teamwork.
Today is equally beautiful, and the Giants won last night. Oh, and there were scores of men in uniform all along the Marina Green this morning and I was lucky I didn’t crash my car with all my gawking. I am very predictable when it comes to congregations of hot military dudes, what with all my wide-eyed smiling and giggling. They are just there doing their job, setting up for the air shows and flotilla watching, and I am having soldier flirting fantasies like I am a WWII nurse doing rounds on the base.
That pause only lasted so long, and then I realized, holy omg, tomorrow, for real, in real mud, elevation, weather, water hazards, walls, and yes… fire, I will be the knee-deep in extreme discomfort as the Mud Hunnies and I take on the course at the NorCal Tough Mudder in Bear Valley. I am very excited and just like soaking up the good vibes of the gorgeousness of yesterday, I think this whole event will be a triumph because everyone is there to challenge some part of themselves so that they might overcome something else that has been going unfixed in the daily slog of life. When I proposed this challenge to my friends I specifically pointed out that each one of us had already conquered some pretty harrowing circumstances and were in the midst of overcoming several more. Each of us used sports and nature to provide a space for us to hear the answers we knew were inside of us, and then build the strength (physically and emotionally) to confront the obstacles, solve the problems, heal the pain, and find our laughter again. I expect to be laughing a LOT tomorrow.
In a quiet moment this morning, pre-soldier leering, I picked some Angel Cards. As usual (!), they were perfect for a little meditation on the Mudder and life, but my brain is pretty full to hit the whole “life” today at least. I am positive I will work it out with my team tomorrow. Wooooo hoooooooooo!!!!
The Purpose Angel is climbing a mountain. She is a Mud Hunnie too.
Something about the fact that I spent my entire weekend eating, drinking, and making sleepless mischief is now making me fret a bit about the course. Because, um, I did not get a proper workout in <gulp>. I know in my gut it will all be fine, but a little pause never hurt anyone about to tackle this in less than 5 days.
Thank goodness I have the Mud Hunnies with me…
Something that always makes me giggle about Los Angeles, are the endless streams of people not at work in the middle of the day. (Lawyers, agents and studio execs are exempt from this however, since all they do is work, and go to many lunches. You only see them on weekends at yoga.) This is mainly attributed to the legions who are actors, writers, directors, producers, and the unemployed production professionals between shows who may be on the streets, but are completely stressed about where/when/how the next job is going to materialize. Then there are those who are out an about who are working, but are in the employ of someone with a perception that they have less time than the rest of us, but in reality just have more money and can therefore hire out for minding, errands and dogwalking. What is really funny though is that all of these people never really seems like they are trying to find a job or even working, rather they all seem to be working out at Runyon Canyon. I feel that I have credibility on this topic as I have been one of the LA unemployeds tromping up down Runyon with wannabe starlets, pasty-looking writers, and all manner of canines. And most every time I am in town, I head over for a dose of Runyon-life.
It was about 400 degrees by 9AM, but the parking opens up right then, so I was glad I waited. Not only do I get a kick out of the street-theatre of Runyon, but there is a really excellent steep face that I needed for some serious uphills. I hit the trail with a good steady march, and got to the bottom of the climb in only about five minutes. I realized just how much I was sweating and that it was time to shed a layer, something I often don’t get to do at home, but was going to fit right in being half naked in the land of obsessively perfect <ahem, too skinny> bodies. Even just in a sports bra and shorts I was more covered than some of the ladies. But what the hell, it was hot.
At the top of the climb, I took a quick break, went back down the same way, and then back up as fast as I could. This is when the music choice became critical and the only thing that would work was something synthesizery. Those types of songs make me feel like a robot machine that will plow down anything it its path as opposed to a flesh and blood asthma sufferer, wheezing her way up the hill. I got some Daft Punk to shove my ass to the top and catch my breath, then deadmau5 started thumping away for a super-fast take off down the hill. I love a downhill run. I jammed past all sorts of trudging unemployeds, hipsters dressed inappropriately for the weather and venue, and the young starlets wearing extensions that probably cost more than two months rent. Depeche Mode helped me weave around cute groups of moms and babies and dogs, all of us exchanging smiles as I went on by.
As I neared the bottom of the hill, feeling quite energized by this workout, the Doobies came on for a cool down. I thought about just how long LA has been part of my life, but also how just plain weird of a place it always seems. As “Minute By Minute” played in my ears, I thought about coming here every year as a kid, head exploding every time I saw a limo or a movie star or the Beverly Center. I have been lucky to see LA over several decades and lived here for 11 years as an adult, and while it is a place built on having the newest new all the time, I don’t miss the feeling that I have to keep up with that anymore.
I will keep coming to Runyon though.
I always like an 11:11.
I’m on the road for a few days, down in LA to participate in my first ever art and music event, where I will be reading one of my very own essays from this blog to actual people. Out loud. In public. A microphone will be involved. You know, the kind that amplifies your voice. I’d actually like to scream into it first to get out the nerves.
Happily, I am staying with a very close friend, she herself a successful actress, who could not be more supportive or more fun and interesting to talk to about all things art, intellectual, introspection, emotion, and is also very, very funny. One of her best friends is also staying here, he himself an actor, writer and director, and just about to present his latest work, a documentary film, at an event on Saturday night in Santa Barbara.
(Dear Universe, Thank you for making sure I was in such a nurturing place all weekend surrounded by encouragement near and far. You sure know what you’re doing Universe, funny how that is! I promise to keep listening to you, I know I know, I can be stubborn and rebellious, but you’re always right. Love you, mean it.)
Since I am also having to stay on track with Tough Mudder training, I arrived just in time to join my hostess for a hike. Weirdly enough, although very LA to say this especially after having lived there for 11 years, I had never ever been on those trails, basically up above the Griffith Observatory. We hiked at the pace of chat, but we always get so many topics going at once we definitely got our brain and heart rates up. We covered a lot: family and friend updates, asthma medication, work, dating, skin care, what is art, nutrition tidbits, taking in the view and a chat with an LA city worker. That’s why I love a good hike; you never know what the topic will be around the next bend.
We got home, rounded up some groceries and Thai take-out, had a delicious meal all together, and then we each hit the sack before 10PM. Nothing better than feeling content at the end of a very lovely day.
Sleeping with my smile on.
