Through the looking glass

Yesterday on the radio, I heard an interview with a man who wrote a book about how we (humans) are not as smart as we often think we are. That our level of delusion—or, maybe, rose colored glasses—guide our thoughts, how we go forward in the world, deal with people and make decisions. And sometimes, when we get a glimpse of what others may see in us (also, subjective, since they're seeing through their own special lens)...eeek, we may be freaked or pleased or possibly just plain stymied.

I've had a couple of those come up in the last little bit. One happened when I received the photos above, taken at the day of fun with my pole classmateS. I looked at these and had a moment of instant-look-away shortly followed by a pride. A pondering of what my body looks like and moves like. It reminded me of the many conversations I've had with my female friends about how women, at least in a majority of the generations I'm intimate with, are raised to be humble, quiet about accomplishments, not loud and proud. This has for me and many of my friends seemed to translate into taking that whole bushel and hiding under it. When there's something to be bragged about, to caveat it in all sorts of language that disguises the real message of "Hell, Yeah, I'm awesome. Look at me go."

So I find myself grappling with this ownership of good stuff. Having recently written and had published a magazine article that focused the spotlight again on my love of words and how I use them, I am sitting with the attention of people saying You need to do this more. And I know that they're right. I can feel that, yet my initial response has tried to be: That was just a one-time, a revisit, a perfect storm of timing, history and friendship. And of course that's bullshit. Staying with the thing I love to do and do well is just real, it's not a compliment, it's not a favor anyone is doing for me, it's just a part of my life to own. Even if 90% of the time I don't hear back on proposals for stories, that's not an indictment of my ability, that's just people being busy and a challenge for me to keep on going with my ideas and words.

This sunday is my fourth NYC marathon. MiHoney's first. I've been feeling the fluttery anticipation along with the "Can I do it again?" thoughts because I know—at least geographically and miles-wise—what the course holds. How I'll feel during those miles is another thing altogether. I've been a bit envious of his newbie-ness, everything is novel along the course. And I realize it's so much like life in that when you've done it, and done it fairly well, there's an interesting bit of nerves and ego that accompany the return, the question of at least matching the success of the last time. Whereas when it's the first time, you really can't go wrong. You're setting your own moment in time to do with what you will.

My realization: Every one of these minutes is a new one to fill with braggadocio, pride, and whatever level of confidence I choose to bring out. Ready, set, go...
PS: if you want to track my marathon moments, here's how: CLick this ING link, follow directions for the tracker app and type in my race #55-532.