- Erin and I received financial approval for a home loan, searched through hundreds of houses in our area, looked at close to 20+ houses, and put in an offer on one--which was accepted just last Friday.
- I went on around 4 job interviews which ate up a considerable amount of time (and neckties)
- I spent an exorbitant amount of time, gas, calories, and verbal energy taking care of a small personal matter that has been burdening me for the last 3 years, finally closing a chapter in my life that I am glad to leave behind.
- I received the gift of phenomenal new shoes, moisture-wicking cold-weather wear, and awesome gloves, to help me run straight through the notoriously feisty Midwestern winter.
- I ran....a lot. In the past 3 weeks, I have made big Monday runs of 6, 7, and 8 miles respectively. I have also ratcheted up the mileage on my smaller runs, going from two-three 5Ks per week to three 5-mile runs on Wed-Fri each week. My grand total last week: 22 miles.
- I've been hanging with my folks quite a bit. My family means more to me now that it probably ever has before. And it is funny that this is the case, as I have officially made my living away from my parents a permanent situation. But I am glad that I am now in contact with my family (and my future family) more these days, because it reaffirms the theme that has been present in my life for the past year and half: constant progress.
- I've been doing some heavy academic work. I'm starting to get used to Philosophy being a large part of my life again. It has been a while, and I still find myself weirded out by the presence of this fickle mistress, but I'm glad to have her back (so long as my #1 lady doesn't get jealous).
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Onward and Upward
Yes, it has been quite a while since I posted on this blog. You've got me, I have been trippin'. But the lack of posting is not due to a lack of happenings. In fact, were there actually a lack of happenings, there would be more posting, as that seems to be just how it goes for me. But several things have been happening all at once, sapping my time, energy, and attention, but pushing me further along in my quest to be a full-fledged, bona fide grown up. Here's a quick bullet point list of what's been happening (in absolutely no particular order aside from my stream of consciousness):
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Find Your Pace, Find Your Peace.
One of the intriguing things about life, broadly construed, is momentum. Sometimes, you can be pressing onward at a snail's pace, feeling heavy as a concrete slab. Other times, things seem to moving along like a windswept parachute, pulled quickly off the ground and far afield. The momentum may seem like it's random, and like you have no control over it, but I'm not so sure that that's the case. For the past week, I have been quite busy, for the first time in recent memory. I have had interviews at various possible employers, taken tests at a staffing agency, run into interesting research projects on the academic side of things, started taking steps to possibly move into a house with the woman of my dreams, and sorting out my future. Were I not newly in the habit of pushing myself to keep going, I'm not so sure that I'd be up for all of it. But lately, I've been pushing myself to keep moving; not moving senselessly and merely to stay moving, but to keep plowing through the tough terrain that is working to achieve my goals. I am also not moving mindlessly, trying not to deal with my feelings and thoughts that make my present moment, for that would be more dangerous than even sitting still. Rather, I am striking the balance between barely moving and thoughtlessly speeding along with no presence of mind. Allow me to make one more analogy in regards to running (that is, after all, a main theme in this blog, is it not?)
Imagine the mind and the body as two running partners. They're unwillingly tied to each other, need one another to do their best, but their tragedy is that they are so unevenly matched. The mind has the ability to keep on running faster and farther into the future, into uncharted possible futures, and quickly as far backward into a cloudy past. But the body can only run forward at the pace of the present moment, and unfortunately, it has to do so at the mercy of its reluctant partner, the mind, and its volatile changes of pace.
When I first started running, I wanted so much more than I could do in one session. I wanted to be able to run at an 8 minute mile pace, I wanted to go on for 5 and 10 miles in one fell swoop. In short, my mind took off at breakneck pace, and my body was left in the dust. But at some point, I stopped thinking that I had to one day run a marathon--my mind slowed down a bit--or even that I'd have to run a half-marathon--slower--or a 20k--slower--or whatever large race toward which I was moving. I forgot also that I had to run the 4 miles that I set out to when I left the house this morning--slower--and furthermore that I had to make it up the hill in front of me to get to the comfortable slight decline of the next road--slower. In reality, all I had to do was take the next step, because that's all that I have to do right now--slower. It was at that moment that my mind matched the pace of my body. Perhaps the mind realized that ultimately, even if he crossed the finish line long before his partner, he'd still have to stand there and wait for him, twiddling his thumbs the whole time with that limitless nervous energy that the mind seems to posses. With my mind now matching pace with my body, I rounded out the four miles charted for today without stopping, and even managed to help two old ladies find the detour to the main road.
So while momentum is a very real phenomenon that pervades the experience of living life, the supposition that it comes and goes involuntarily is quite unfounded. While you or your significant other may not actually run, your mind almost certainly does, at various paces, which rarely match that of your body. But if you can manage to sync the two, and harness the power of the teamwork that happens when the two run at a complimentary pace, well you just might find real happiness. But then again, what do I know? I'm crazy enough to think that running a marathon will be fun.
Numbers: I ran 4 miles today, after doing a big run of 6 miles on Monday (the record to date). The times of both had me running at a pace of between 8:30 and 8:45 per mile (which I hope to improve by including speedwork in the regimen). That brings the week's total to 10 miles, which I hope to increase to 13 or more, depending on how sore I am tomorrow.
Imagine the mind and the body as two running partners. They're unwillingly tied to each other, need one another to do their best, but their tragedy is that they are so unevenly matched. The mind has the ability to keep on running faster and farther into the future, into uncharted possible futures, and quickly as far backward into a cloudy past. But the body can only run forward at the pace of the present moment, and unfortunately, it has to do so at the mercy of its reluctant partner, the mind, and its volatile changes of pace.
When I first started running, I wanted so much more than I could do in one session. I wanted to be able to run at an 8 minute mile pace, I wanted to go on for 5 and 10 miles in one fell swoop. In short, my mind took off at breakneck pace, and my body was left in the dust. But at some point, I stopped thinking that I had to one day run a marathon--my mind slowed down a bit--or even that I'd have to run a half-marathon--slower--or a 20k--slower--or whatever large race toward which I was moving. I forgot also that I had to run the 4 miles that I set out to when I left the house this morning--slower--and furthermore that I had to make it up the hill in front of me to get to the comfortable slight decline of the next road--slower. In reality, all I had to do was take the next step, because that's all that I have to do right now--slower. It was at that moment that my mind matched the pace of my body. Perhaps the mind realized that ultimately, even if he crossed the finish line long before his partner, he'd still have to stand there and wait for him, twiddling his thumbs the whole time with that limitless nervous energy that the mind seems to posses. With my mind now matching pace with my body, I rounded out the four miles charted for today without stopping, and even managed to help two old ladies find the detour to the main road.
So while momentum is a very real phenomenon that pervades the experience of living life, the supposition that it comes and goes involuntarily is quite unfounded. While you or your significant other may not actually run, your mind almost certainly does, at various paces, which rarely match that of your body. But if you can manage to sync the two, and harness the power of the teamwork that happens when the two run at a complimentary pace, well you just might find real happiness. But then again, what do I know? I'm crazy enough to think that running a marathon will be fun.
Numbers: I ran 4 miles today, after doing a big run of 6 miles on Monday (the record to date). The times of both had me running at a pace of between 8:30 and 8:45 per mile (which I hope to improve by including speedwork in the regimen). That brings the week's total to 10 miles, which I hope to increase to 13 or more, depending on how sore I am tomorrow.
Friday, October 2, 2009
No Matter What
If there's one thing that is the most important element of this whole operation, the glue that is holding this all together, it's staying positive. That's what's gotten me through the past year and some change, and what will get me from here today to the finish line (am I still talking about the marathon, or about life?). But sometimes I forget it, and I have to either be reminded, or remind myself. But I think it's appropriate here to tell the story of just how this all got rolling, and became the centerpiece of my life. Away we go....
In late 2006, I had developed a bad habit. I had graduated from college the year before, and entered graduate school with the goal of obtaining my Ph.D within 6 years. I was driven, I was determined, I was....burning out. I was in a hopelessly unhealthy relationship, I had become nearly a hermit, and I had no balance in my life. I spent days in a haze of walking and studying, theorizing and worrying. I spent nights arguing and/or sleeping in chairs next to hospital beds. I never allowed myself to find the middle-ground. Through it all, I carried around a stash of pills to get me through. I had white ones, blue ones, green ones, pink ones, circular ones, oval ones, uppers and downers. Simply put, I had become hooked on painkillers and benzodiazepines (look 'em up, you'll recognize a few names). After continuing the addiction to various degrees of severity, I was ordered into inpatient treatment in May of 2008. By that time, I had stopped attending classes with any regularity and was barely doing the day-to-day tasks. My grades fell drastically and I was dismissed from the graduate school via a letter delivered to me in rehab in July.
I spent three months in rehab, meeting and then befriending people from all walks of life. I med federal criminals, dealers, fathers, mothers, members and higher-ups of nearly every gang in and out of Chicago, and even a few people just like me. Actually, they were all just like me, they were addicts. They we addicts and alcoholics. They had come to the end of their rope (at least that particular rope) and were thrown in with everyone else like them to try to pick up the pieces for 90 days.
When I first got into the facility, I was unsure of how I would go about living there and what would happen afterward. But within the first day, I heard a counselor--a recovering crack addict with 30 years of addiction and 10 years of recovery under his belt--give a speech about being open-minded, about giving this (rehab) a chance in order to give yourself a chance. For whatever reason, I decided that day to stop being jaded, cynical, and drop the hubris that I had about handling my life. I decided that I needed help, and that I'd get it in treatment.
The 90 days went by more quickly than I ever thought they would. I left as the summer was winding down, in August of 2008. My 6 year relationship was ending, my parents had come to pick me (a now 25-year-old man-child) up, and I was entering a halfway house to make my transition back into sober living. While at the halfway house, I met some great people--people who had been all but given up on, and were trying to find the strength to make a life for themselves. I found that even when things were going badly for them, they'd still be there to help anyone who was dealing with addiction and it's accompanying demons. Every day, as we gathered to pray (in the non-specific, personal way) in the morning, I gained inspiration and wisdom. Sometimes I wondered how I'd gotten to a place where I felt real, genuine peace. I realized that through it all, though there were tough times, I stayed positive about what I was trying to do. I smiled, I breathed, and I kept moving forward.
So it was fitting that one day, at the job I had managed to get while at the halfway house, I found a rubber band that fit nicely around my wrist. Many people in the recovery community wore rubber bands, to remind themselves to keep going, to snap when they got a craving, or whatever would help them. I figured that since I often learn visually, I'd write something on the rubber band to remind myself of what I had to do to make it. I took a sharpie from under the counter and wrote "PMA" all around it in fat, black letters. PMA stands for Positive Mental Attitude. It's a concept that's been around for a while, and I learned of it through my affinity for hardcore punk, and the band "Bad Brains", which had used the phrase many times in their songs. I figured that of all the things that people had told me about my progress and my good qualities, they referred to my being positive and genuine. So if I had to attribute my new way of life to anything, it would be to staying positive, no matter what.
Today, I still wear a PMA bracelet. I have made two of them for others; one for the woman that I plan to spend my life with, and the other to Hakeem, a man I met in the halfway house who taught me the value of hard work and optimism. Wherever you are, Hakeem, I hope that you're still sober and you still qualify (he'd know what it means). I have gone through many rubber bands myself, due to stretching, breaking, and fading, but I always make sure to keep one on. Now more than ever, I have made it a point to stay positive--to do and say things that reflect an attitude of openness, willingness, and honesty, and to give all that I can to whatever I choose to do. So when I wake up, stretch, and step out the door to run, I do it until I finish, running through any shit that my body wants to give me. I'd like to say that I have been doing the same with my life in general, but it is not so. I've been reflecting too much on the repercussions of my past bad decisions, and of the difficulty of the career and life goals that I have set for myself, but I've been failing to give my all and stay positive about what I can do. So today, while I sat in an office at an employment agency, hoping to get some sort of job to put my head above water, and allow my lady to stop having to worry about money, I got to worrying. I thought: "what if I can't get over my scholastic and legal indiscretions, and I can't do my life's work? What if I don't get a fair shake based on my past?" I almost got overwhelmed yet again, but I quickly caught on to what my mind was doing, and thought: "well, what if I just sit around and worry instead of stop pretending to know the future and put all my effort and passion where it belongs?" I decided that the latter question was more worth asking.
I left the office determined, and positive. There will always be hardships on the path I have chosen, but the only way I can be defeated is if I give up. Knowing this, I can rest each day, knowing that I have put my all into what I am doing, and that I don't live in the future, I live now. After all, I can only do what I can do in this moment, that is all I have right now. I'm pretty sure that I can handle that.
If you've read this far, thanks for doing so, and stay positive.
P.S. I ran 5k yesterday, although I don't normally run on Thursdays. I also ran this morning, another 5k. I beat my time by nearly 30 seconds, brining my time up to 27:29. The total mileage for this week is 14 miles. I hope to rack up some more next week, starting with 6 miles on Monday. Here's hoping!
I spent three months in rehab, meeting and then befriending people from all walks of life. I med federal criminals, dealers, fathers, mothers, members and higher-ups of nearly every gang in and out of Chicago, and even a few people just like me. Actually, they were all just like me, they were addicts. They we addicts and alcoholics. They had come to the end of their rope (at least that particular rope) and were thrown in with everyone else like them to try to pick up the pieces for 90 days.
When I first got into the facility, I was unsure of how I would go about living there and what would happen afterward. But within the first day, I heard a counselor--a recovering crack addict with 30 years of addiction and 10 years of recovery under his belt--give a speech about being open-minded, about giving this (rehab) a chance in order to give yourself a chance. For whatever reason, I decided that day to stop being jaded, cynical, and drop the hubris that I had about handling my life. I decided that I needed help, and that I'd get it in treatment.
The 90 days went by more quickly than I ever thought they would. I left as the summer was winding down, in August of 2008. My 6 year relationship was ending, my parents had come to pick me (a now 25-year-old man-child) up, and I was entering a halfway house to make my transition back into sober living. While at the halfway house, I met some great people--people who had been all but given up on, and were trying to find the strength to make a life for themselves. I found that even when things were going badly for them, they'd still be there to help anyone who was dealing with addiction and it's accompanying demons. Every day, as we gathered to pray (in the non-specific, personal way) in the morning, I gained inspiration and wisdom. Sometimes I wondered how I'd gotten to a place where I felt real, genuine peace. I realized that through it all, though there were tough times, I stayed positive about what I was trying to do. I smiled, I breathed, and I kept moving forward.
So it was fitting that one day, at the job I had managed to get while at the halfway house, I found a rubber band that fit nicely around my wrist. Many people in the recovery community wore rubber bands, to remind themselves to keep going, to snap when they got a craving, or whatever would help them. I figured that since I often learn visually, I'd write something on the rubber band to remind myself of what I had to do to make it. I took a sharpie from under the counter and wrote "PMA" all around it in fat, black letters. PMA stands for Positive Mental Attitude. It's a concept that's been around for a while, and I learned of it through my affinity for hardcore punk, and the band "Bad Brains", which had used the phrase many times in their songs. I figured that of all the things that people had told me about my progress and my good qualities, they referred to my being positive and genuine. So if I had to attribute my new way of life to anything, it would be to staying positive, no matter what.
Today, I still wear a PMA bracelet. I have made two of them for others; one for the woman that I plan to spend my life with, and the other to Hakeem, a man I met in the halfway house who taught me the value of hard work and optimism. Wherever you are, Hakeem, I hope that you're still sober and you still qualify (he'd know what it means). I have gone through many rubber bands myself, due to stretching, breaking, and fading, but I always make sure to keep one on. Now more than ever, I have made it a point to stay positive--to do and say things that reflect an attitude of openness, willingness, and honesty, and to give all that I can to whatever I choose to do. So when I wake up, stretch, and step out the door to run, I do it until I finish, running through any shit that my body wants to give me. I'd like to say that I have been doing the same with my life in general, but it is not so. I've been reflecting too much on the repercussions of my past bad decisions, and of the difficulty of the career and life goals that I have set for myself, but I've been failing to give my all and stay positive about what I can do. So today, while I sat in an office at an employment agency, hoping to get some sort of job to put my head above water, and allow my lady to stop having to worry about money, I got to worrying. I thought: "what if I can't get over my scholastic and legal indiscretions, and I can't do my life's work? What if I don't get a fair shake based on my past?" I almost got overwhelmed yet again, but I quickly caught on to what my mind was doing, and thought: "well, what if I just sit around and worry instead of stop pretending to know the future and put all my effort and passion where it belongs?" I decided that the latter question was more worth asking.
I left the office determined, and positive. There will always be hardships on the path I have chosen, but the only way I can be defeated is if I give up. Knowing this, I can rest each day, knowing that I have put my all into what I am doing, and that I don't live in the future, I live now. After all, I can only do what I can do in this moment, that is all I have right now. I'm pretty sure that I can handle that.
If you've read this far, thanks for doing so, and stay positive.
P.S. I ran 5k yesterday, although I don't normally run on Thursdays. I also ran this morning, another 5k. I beat my time by nearly 30 seconds, brining my time up to 27:29. The total mileage for this week is 14 miles. I hope to rack up some more next week, starting with 6 miles on Monday. Here's hoping!
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