From Couch to 5k.... to Insanity!

Well, I did it. I went from being a non-runner to being a runner to realizing I'm not a runner to deciding to run once more to happily leaving running behind.

On May 30th, I ran for 30 minutes straight for the first time in-- maybe ever?  I completed the C25k (couch to 5k) app, an interval training program in which for 8 weeks, 3 days a week, I'd listen to this little voice in my phone telling me to "begin running" or "start walking." Each run was 30 to 40 minutes depending on the intervals and always starting and ending with a 5 minute walk. The goal is to be able to run 30 minutes (or 5k) nonstop within 9 weeks.

On Day 1 I wrote in my journal: It was much easier than anticipated. Running for just 60 seconds at a time is easy. I listened to fun music, ignored incoming calls. Felt a bit of a runner's high even with such short intervals. It was around sunset, and I'd only slept about 4 hours the previous night, but running gave me a 2nd wind; I went out to dance after a brief stop at home for a quick shower!

On Day 2 I wrote in my journal: It flew by. I was surprised to be told it was cool down time. I wanted more. Had a thought about running as a spiritual practice. Also thought taking up physical act of running might help me stop metaphorically running away from other things, such as physical or emotional pain through bodywork or other therapies; time to stay present, face some things, and go deeper. Felt so good after, I went to dance.

As the weeks progressed, the intervals increased, and I had more and more insights with each and every run. I thought I'd journal about it each time, but did not. Some of the most interesting runs came after I started EMDR therapy to address the unprocessed trauma of the nearly fatal accident I was in back in 1996. During these few runs, I was feeling my legs and lower body more as well as some motion-sickness. One of the things that happened once I was more in my body during my runs was that my form changed.

Previously I'd sort of been running on my toes. I was wearing Vibram five-finger shoes and thought it just might be because of that. But one day, I think it was the 2nd run with my "heavier legs," more of my foot made contact with the ground. No more tip toeing around, so to speak. I was more fully there. More connected. Previously I'd actually tried to run this way, but it didn't feel right. Whereas now, if I tried to run just from the toes/ball of my feet, that didn't feel right. Not that either way is right or wrong per se; it just depends. And there's much uncertainty in the running community about this; if you're interested, here's just one article on the topic.

What else? Oh! Probably plenty more, but what stands out the most in my memory now is my first attempt at my final run.

I was hoping to complete this program before going away for 10 days for Sheng Zhen Gong teacher training. And my final run, my first shot at running for 30 minutes without stopping, was going to be in the morning before taking off for training. But thanks to some heavy rains the previous days, I got thrown off a day. Nevertheless, I woke up that Monday morning and decided to just go for it.

Did I really need a day off between runs? I was so close to being done. I just wanted to finish this program and then I could decide when to run and for how long. I was pretty sure that running 30 minutes straight was not something I'd choose to do. But running for 10-20 minute intervals might remain in my fitness regimen.

So on Monday, May 27, I rolled out of bed, put on my shoes, told my housemate I was gonna go for it, and I went for it.

And after 23 minutes, I stopped running and started laughing. Not only had I not taken a day off between runs, but I was starting my run at least an hour later in the morning, and it was too hot for me. I'd say that after the first 8 minutes of that run, my thoughts all revolved around pushing myself, telling myself I could do this, and then thinking I might throw up or pass out, and then telling myself that's ridiculous and of course I'm ok and can do this, and then why am I even doing this?!

Of course there's an aspect of wanting to be in the best physical shape possible and loving the feeling of strengthening and using/moving my body. But I could do that through other methods. There was something about running and completing this program, whether I liked it or not, that was at play here. It was all about discipline, going beyond my comfort zone, proving something to myself. And completion; that was important to me.

During this run, each time I thought about stopping, I told myself to just keep going. Normally, in previous runs, that had felt like a healthy thing. But on this morning, it did not. It felt like ego. And not the part of my ego that can be used as a tool for my betterment.

So I stopped running and started laughing, looking back at the past 8 weeks as one long ego trip. Of course plenty of it was actually really good for me. And at times I truly did enjoy running. But it's really not the right activity for me. Cardio dancing is more my style. And it's something I'll return to soon. But first? One more fitness experiment and challenge: Insanity. Just finished week 1. For real. And I love it. Not just an ego trip. I really like it. And I'm pretty sure that C25k helped me get ready for it. But more on Insanity another time....

In the end, I actually did finish C25k. I did get in that final run of 30 minutes nonstop. Thanks to my brother's encouragement and reminder that if I'd taken a day off between runs and gone out earlier in the morning, I probably would not have stopped; I would have ran that whole 30 minutes. Plus I haven't totally relinquished the part of myself that likes to prove things to myself. So I did it. I left the 10 day training to do it. I drove home for the night so that I could run in the morning. Didn't want any excuses, like not getting enough sleep because of a roommate or not being able to run because of the terrain. So on May 30th, I woke up in my own bed, and this time I went out an hour earlier than usual, to beat the heat and get it done. And it felt so good. Piece of cake actually. My brother was right. Although there was some truth in my ego trip insights, that wouldn't have been enough to make me quit with just 7 minutes left to go. I just needed some recovery time and cooler weather. Hooray! I did it. I'm done.

And now? Off to start Week 2 of Insanity. :)


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Okay

Just stumbled upon this journal entry from April:

He asked me if I was okay, and to my surprise, I said, “No." 
 Time sort of stood still once this foreign word came out of my mouth.  

--> Don’t get me wrong; I say “no” quite often. But I can’t even remember the last time I said it in response to the question “are you okay?”

“Ok” isn’t even saying much, so even if I’m upset, if something’s wrong, I am always “okay.” Of course I'm "okay!" But… sometimes there’s a "but."

So today, instead of saying, “yes, but,” I simply said, “No."

I felt confused afterwards as to whether this was a more honest response or more dishonest, since I do know that I'm OK.

Looking over this now, plus looking at a bit more of the entry that's not typed above, I add to what's above below:

I wondered at the time if there was something going on here around the issue of denial, like that by saying "no," I was practicing not being in denial. I also wondered if it was more about semantics and my beliefs around the power of words than about denial. I think now it's a bit of both. 

I guess my tendency was to feel that if I say I'm "not ok," it's like I'm saying something's really not ok, like on a deeper level. Or that it's feeding into some negative programming. And why on Earth would I want to do that? Because that's what people typically do? No. But also Yes. 



Is it possible to overdo thinking before speaking? Is it possible for conscious language to get in the way of being a fully alive, authentic, communicative being?? Abso-freakin-lutely! So what if I know I'm always okay at the core of my being? Sometimes I'm not okay! I'm human. And once that's admitted, once that's spoken, whether just to myself or to others, I usually start to feel authentically okay again. Funny how that works. Like a confessional. Not that I've ever been in one. But I've always been intrigued by that part of Catholicism. And that's a whole other topic, one I won't get into now.

El Fin!




© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
 

 

Flying Cockroaches!

Last night I was welcomed home by a huge cockroach on the ceiling of my bedroom. And by "huge" I mean the body was at least 2 inches plus antennae that were a few inches long. My housemate came up with a spray bottle of bleach and a fly swatter to help me capture it under a bowl, but it outsmarted us, hiding sort of inside the bottom of the bookcase I'd pulled away from the wall to help us get to it.

So I decided to push the bookcase back up against the wall and just pretend it was trapped in there now. The only other option required too much effort (emptying out the bookcase), and I was tired. Plus, I thought cockroaches didn't bother me. No big deal to have one in my room, right? Even with my bed being on the floor. Besides, it had been a long day with very little sleep, so I figured I'd crash so hard that I wouldn't even notice if it ended up in bed with me!

But I was wrong. I didn't have the nerve to turn on the light when it happened, but I'm pretty sure there was a cockroach on my arm at least once, maybe twice, in the middle of the night. And then around 4:30 in the morning, I turned on my light. And there it was, up on the ceiling, not too far from my bed. I won't get into the details of the chase that ensued before finally capturing it, except for one thing: this cockroach flew across my room.

I'd never seen anything like this! I didn't even know that cockroaches could fly. Not really. My housemate had mentioned that they could fly, but I didn't believe it! Until it happened, and in a big way, all the way across my room. I stood there for a moment, eyes wide, in disbelief, and then laughter took over. And clarity; it was time to go downstairs to get a bigger bowl and the bleach (spraying a cockroach with bleach just slows it down enough to trap it under a bowl). I couldn't have a flying cockroach in my room, at least not if I wanted to go back to sleep.

And today I'm still laughing over the whole thing; I've actually been laughing a lot since yesterday morning, but perhaps that'll be another entry, a "Sheng Zhen in Daily Life" story.... Back to flying cockroaches: When I told my housemate about what had happened, she told me a funny story.

Her daughter and nephew woke up one night screaming and yelling. She and her ex-husband went into the room and asked what was going on. They said there was a flying cockroach. But it was nowhere to be seen, so her ex told  them to calm down, saying it wouldn't hurt them and to just go back to sleep. And then out of the blue, the cockroach flew around the room in a big circle and then landed right on his forehead! And of course he started freaking out. I like that story.

And that's all I have to say about cockroaches for now. Other than that seeing one fly actually is pretty cool.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Welcoming Back My Legs

Legs. They're heavy. When you actually can feel them as part of your body. I'm not sure if this is an issue for many people, since many people do reside primarily in their heads, cut off from their bodies, or if it's only an issue for those of us who have temporarily or permanently lost a sense of connection due to shock or damage from injury or surgery.

This is Day 2 of my legs feeling heavy. I've felt this before, but it comes and goes. I wonder if this time my legs are here to stay. They do feel heavier than ever before. Too heavy to go for a run. Too heavy to dance. But they also want to be used. They want to walk. They tell me they'll run and dance again soon, possibly even tomorrow. They tell me there's no rush. They're reconnecting. Give them, give me, a rest.

So I sit here resting, recovering from yesterday's EMDR session. It was my first. Powerful and intense are the first two words that come to mind. And although part of me wants so badly to share right now, I don't think I'm ready to share publicly about what happened in that session. At least not all of it. But I have started writing about all of it privately, and was even motivated to get back to using dictation; it's such a great way to get the thoughts out of my head, especially while driving.

So what can I share here and now? Without getting into why I decided to start EMDR or what it entails (click on link above for some info on EMDR), I'll just say that one of the scenes that came up was me sitting in the car, waiting for help, when I couldn't feel or move my legs, terrified that I was paralyzed and screaming my head off while also holding myself up so that I wouldn't remain doubled over my lap belt. As I sat with this image, I felt surprisingly calm; interesting that this was one of the most calm parts of the session considering that during the accident this is when I was most hysterical, possibly even more so than when I'd been screaming at the driver to slow down or stop the car and contemplating jumping out when he wouldn't listen. (I know, this almost isn't fair for people who don't know the whole story, but it's all I can offer right now). Back to the session...

Emotionally calm with this image, but physically, a lot was happening. I felt my lower back waking up, at the level of fracture/fusion. I experienced some electrical currents, some twitches. It was as if the nerves were healing and my legs were being called back to my body.  It was a chance to tell myself that I can feel and move my legs. And it was a chance to believe it on a cellular level.

I'd worked with this in SomatoEmotional Release sessions, Continuum, and probably another modality or two. Even just through grounding by running energy and breathing. Affirmations. Verbal deprogramming and reprogramming. Etcetera. But this feels different. And, for now, I'll leave it at that.

I think it's time to wrap this up, even though it's tempting to go on about my legs or legs in general, or how I'm having a similar experience with feeling what it's like to have a lower abdomen. I realized in session that I haven't really felt it since the lap belt injury. And that is way more of a trip than this leg thing! Both the feeling I'm experiencing and the realization about the lack of past feeling. But that is a whole other entry, a whole other chapter really.

To be continued.....


And for those of you who are curious, here are some links to other relevant entries I've posted over the years: 

http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-night-i-almost-died.html
http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2009/10/do-you-see-what-i-see.html
http://rebeccacliogould.blogspot.com/2010/02/coming-back-to-me.html

http://returntothetao.blogspot.com/2010/02/exit-wound.html



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

Howling at the Moon

 Tonight I howled at the moon, while driving in my car. And at some point that howl turned into monkey sounds which then turned into laughter before I howled again. And then silence came, and within the silence a question, When was the last time you howled at the moon?, to which I replied in song.


A song like a howl but sung instead of howled, melodic and calm, sung like a song, like some long-forgotten language, each sound rich and deep with meaning: Owww-ooooooooooh, ow-ow-ow-ooooooooooh, oww-oooooh, ow-ow-ow-oooooooooh..... Repeated many times until I arrived home, sometimes fast but mostly slow.

I sit here now at my desk, staring at this screen, thinking about the contrast between the playful, wild howling and the soulful, soothing singing. And yet there's nothing more to say, at least not in this moment. I could go on about the animal within or repression and liberation or expression or a dozen other things. But I'd rather just howl and sing and bask a bit longer in the preverbal bliss it brings.


© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

What Do I Do When I Can't Sleep?

Usually I toss and turn or just lie there practicing surrendering and opening up my body to relaxation and release. If there's physical discomfort wreaking havoc, I practice "disappearing pain." And sometimes I just put on a guided meditation. But this morning, when I woke up at 4:30, wide awake after only 4 hours of sleep, I got out of bed. Apparently this is what one is supposed to do if after 15 minutes one does not go back to sleep. That's what my doctor recently told me. And so I decided to test it out, even though there's a flaw in this experiment; avoiding computer screens is also recommended.

But I wanted to write! And not by hand. I wanted to crank out a new chapter for one of my books. I had it all so perfectly crafted in my head. So I turned on my laptop, opened up the document. And nothing came out. 

So I moved on to finding a DVD ripper online so that I could finish up a couple of Sheng Zhen video projects. It takes over an hour for one DVD. I don't want to go back to sleep until it's done. So I clean my room, then see if my website needs updating, then schedule a Meetup, and then the first DVD is ripped. I check it out to see if it worked, and it did, so I load another one, get back in bed planning to practice 9 Turns, a Sheng Zhen form of non-moving lying down qigong, and then possibly sleep. But first? A foot massage. And before I know it I'm out of bed again dancing with my shadow. Literally. I'm dancing around my room, and the lamp is creating a big shadow on the wall, my shadow, and we dance. And I laugh in recognition of the perfection of what I'm doing: dancing with my shadow. A big one.

Why? Because I decided pretty recently that it was time to stop denying the shadow side in general and also time to specifically revisit and admit to the horrific traumas I endured as a teenager. My coping mechanism, especially  the first year or two after the car accident, was denial. I was ok. I'd survived. It was ok. I was alive. But I wasn't ok, and it wasn't ok. And that truth, those truths, must be expressed. And there's a part of me that reads what I just wrote and says that's bullshit, that it was ok and I was ok. And that conflict is part of why this needs to be explored.

There's so much more to say about this, so much more to share. And yet, as often is the case, I didn't really expect to go there in this post. I even contemplate not posting this, since it's quite incomplete. I consider re-writing it completely, or having a post just about the concept of "Being OK" or just about "Shadow Dancing" or about all the old stuff that's getting stirred up for me now and why (such as re-reading "Waking the Tiger" and various bodywork experiences over the past month and preparing to start EMDR). And why now after all these years?

But considering the several "drafts" I've started and not posted over the past 4 months, I think I've just gotta hit that "publish" button and accept the perfect imperfection of this post and where I'm at. I've had writer's block for too long. This is a start in the right direction.

To be continued....



© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.

My First Bikini

A few days ago I bought my very first bikini. Now, if you know that for the past few years i sometimes daydream about a clothing optional world, or at least spending more time at nudist camps (see "Did I forget to wear pants again"-- can't link to it when posting from iPhone...) then this may come as a surprise. But the bigger surprise is what I discovered this morning: the magic of the bikini.

Yesterday morning I went out to the beach just before sunrise, in my new swim wear for the very first time-- oh, first I better describe it even though I'll probably post a picture too.

I found it in a small shop down the road from Present Moment. I'd been told not to bother looking in town, that the selection was overpriced. Apparently whoever said that had not been to this shop. I paid 180 pesos, which is $14, for this bikini that's mostly bright red with a light blue border and the union jack (u.k. Flag) on the left breast! And across my sacrum runs the word ENGLAND in big white letters. Ha! I loved it! I prayed it would fit, and it did. It reminded me of advice a friend once gave me about international travel: put a Canadian flag patch on your bag; pretend you're not from the u.s. I never followed that advice, and this says "England," not Canada, but still it reminded me of that and made me smile.

So, back to the beach.... and the magic....

After a little jog that kept getting interrupted by taking pictures of sunrise and pelicans, and readjusting my top so that I wouldn't keep popping out of it, I braved the ocean. And I use the word "braved" not only because I'm not super comfortable in the ocean and have a mixture of rational and irrational fears, but because I felt brave. More courageous. More comfortable. More at ease. With more skin in contact with the water, I just felt more at home. It was like heaven. It was like returning home.

I found myself wondering if wearing one pieces or tankinis had been cutting me off from having more natural instincts in, and affinity for, the ocean. That extra, and synthetic, fabric over my belly blocking the Qi? Perhaps. And/or maybe I was influenced by something Osho said.

Over the past week I've listened to over a dozen hours of his recordings on "Tantra: The Supreme Understanding." They came pre-loaded on my Supreme Science Qigong instructor iPod, and I hadn't listened to them in entirety yet. But now I have, while swinging in a hammock each night. And one thing Osho said was that the body is mostly seawater, and when we're in the womb we are sea creatures.

That really resonated with me. And I couldn't wait to get back in the water after hearing that. So perhaps it was a combination of more bare skin and this reminder that I started out as a creature of the sea and still contain an ocean within me.

And as I remembered back to my time with the dolphins and the bioaquatic therapy in August, my body loosened up and relaxed even more. And as i watched the pelicans float right over some waves, totally undisturbed, i learned from them. And instead of being a bit startled or jolted by the waves or retreating towards the shore as per usual, I started swimming towards the waves, wanting more. Good thing too since today I have a surfing lesson! Something I thought I'd never do. In fact, a few days before scheduling it I very clearly stated to myself that being out in the ocean attached to a board with waves crashing down around me was, was, beyond words, but something dreadful! A bunch of the guests at Present Moment were raving about their surfing lessons. But it was something I certainly didn't need to experience. Something I'd never do.

And then, as has been known to happen sometimes when I make such strong statements of preference regarding something I don't like or don't want, something shifts. Not always, but sometimes. Like this time. And like with "being a runner." I soften. I open to the possibility. I try it on. I face my fears. I stop resisting. I say yes.

 

© 2013 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.