courage

A funny thing happened on the way to my NYC marathon this year: I decided to have the courage to do something a little different. I decided to listen to something other than the part of me that does things because, well...because that's always been the way I've done things. I decided to not run this year. There are a couple of important reasons (the main one being that my knee injury threw my training off and hasn't yet altogether recovered its happy place during long runs), but despite that, I'm finding this decision challenges my notion of safety in sameness. You see, for the last three+ years my summers and falls have been regimented pretty solidly around a training schedule that builds throughout the summer to double-digit miles, has me out most mornings before the heat (in the summer) or the sun (in the fall) are up, and reminds me that squirrels can be unpredictable little creatures when you startle them in the act of nut storage during early morning activity...all this sort of torturous, yet also satisfyingly challenging stuff was some kind of baseline of achievement for my life for the past few years. And somewhere along the way I'd made it up that my life would fall apart if I didn't follow the template.

And then along came the idea to be brave and try something new. To stop being selectively deaf, and listen really closely to what my body and heart might be saying. This is a trend that has been rolling out in a few areas of my life in the past few months. And while I've been laboring over this defer-marathon decision for the last couple of weeks, I saw an example of such straight-up, yet oh-so-subtle courage in the actions of a lady at the studio, that it all kind of became crystal clear. This was not an act of gravity defying pole movement (though I saw plenty of that, too, from other lovelies). No, this was a moment that no doubt passed fairly unnoticed to the naked eye. A woman came in for an intro class. She walked into the studio wearing one of those mask-smiles that so conveniently announces to the world: I'm absolutely bat-sh*t terrified here, but look, I'm smiling...right? She was in her 50s and all on her own, while around her were pairs of fairly young ones chatting away seemingly at ease. As I showed her where the dressing room was, she commented on the cute booty shorts and tank tops that the studio sells and that she was pretty sure she'd never be in any shape to wear them. Of course I disagreed with her...of course that didn't change her mind...of course she thought i was just being nice (didn't get that I was absolutely serious). So she went into the class with one kind of smile on and came out two hours later with a smile of a completely different kind. I'm gonna say it was giddy. It was luminous. It was absolutely bat-sh*t sexy! She came up to reception and the words were uncorked: how she hadn't told her boyfriend she was coming tonight, how she wanted to feel sexy walking down the street with him (and since she lives up in my neighborhood of bodacious Dominican Republic ladies, I know exactly what she's talking about! Those ladies know how to walk! If I wouldn't get the crap beaten out of me, I'd follow them down the street and practice.) She signed up for a level one class on the spot and we all marveled at the fact that she was going to keep this a secret from her guy. See, she had a plan. One that involved some high heels, a short skirt, and a demonstration on the best way to pick up the remote off the coffee table when he was watching the game...and then subsequently stopped watching the game and started watching her (then maybe a walk down the street for some dinner and dancing afterward). Brilliant. But the thing that really inspired me was the look of amazement on her face, the sense that she was doing something completely different than she'd ever done before, and she said a couple of times This isn't like me at all. and shook her head, clucked a little, had that whole pride and surprise of self moment going. And I thought, Damn, look what happens when you're brave enough to go against your own grain.

Well, naturally this followed on the heels of a class where C observed during my dance that my heretofore suppressed sexuality that's only nipped around the edges of my dance is unfolding in a mighty special (and not scary) way. A powerful and sensual way. And I knew why...as if she's a fortune teller who reads what's going on in my life through my body's moves without me having to tell her, she sees immediately that i'm developing the courage to let myself be seen because I've let myself be loved and to love back. Because I waited (this time) until it felt right (and was fortunate enough that he waited, too), I could say yes courageously, taking a road less traveled by me.

So a funny thing happened on the way to my life this fall: During the past few months when you'd usually find me startling squirrels, I've been startling myself. In the land of sameness, the cowardly lion roared...and then grew a pair...or more...of possibilities.