Remembering When
I asked a friend if she had any ideas for a blog post…anything she’d be interested reading about. After all, I aim to please not just myself, but also my audience. Maybe no one wants to hear about my depression and struggles.
And that’s okay. I don’t want to always be a Demetrius Downer. The world has enough of that. This weekend is so different from last weekend. Night and day difference.
Part of what helped me climb out of the depression is a trick I remember from my days training for marathons. Something that I loved about running was the peace and solitude that followed me with every step.
I enjoyed that peace and solitude so much that I preferred running the first thing in the morning, well before I was due at work at 0900.
How could I fit in a 10 or 12 mile run before work? Math. I’d subtract the time it took to complete the run, stretch, shower, and have breakfast…oh, and commute from the time I had to start work. That meant I’d have to set my alarm for anywhere from 0300 to 0430, depending on the distance I’d be running that morning.
Predawn and then some! I lived on Ann Arbor’s Old West Side, a quaint neighborhood not far from downtown; predawn on that side of town transformed quaintness into something more like mystical. Even more so when I’d include hills through Nichols Arboretum.
Friends and family thought I was crazy, but they didn’t experience the predawn world the way I did. It became almost an addiction to have the freedom of traffic free streets, the peace of a city asleep.
I missed those days so much that I tried for a while to recreate those predawn mornings once I was healed enough from the accident to live alone.
NO! No running. Because of my injuries, my running days are behind me. But just to enjoy the stillness and quiet of a world asleep. I would wake up at 0430 to write and read my way into the day. And I was able to do that for a few months.
It was able to enjoy those predawn mornings almost like I used to when I was running. This lasted until my pain specialist and I agreed to try a new medication. Alas! The new medication definitely helps with my pain, but it KNOCKS ME OUT! precluding early mornings.
I tried for a while to honor the early alarm clock. No can do.
How was I able to wake up so early and get out the door to run, even in the dead of winter? I used a little trick called staging: I would lay out my clothes, winter gear when necessary, and developed the habit of pulling on my togs, grabbing my headlamp and water bottle—or bottles depending on the distance—and I was out the door for my warm up miles before I was awake enough to protest the ungodly early hour!
And it worked. Staging work.
Damn! Those were the days! Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d wind up disabled and living in the mountains of North Carolina.
Yet here I am! Don’t misunderstand me; while I do miss running, that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful and at peace with where I am in life. God is good and great. God helped me remember that little trick of staging.
I’m a creature of habit. I thrive on routine. While I can be spontaneous when it’s called for, routine is the magical ladder that helps me climb higher. It on the rungs of this ladder that I was able to climb out of last weekend’s depression.
I remember the staging and applied it to my current mornings. There are three things I’ve learned are essential to a productive, awesome start to my mornings.
A clean kitchen. No dirty dishes in the sink, etc.
A strong cup of ginger/turmeric tea steeped overnight. Soothes a sour stomach.
A clean mug waiting by the Nespresso, ready for that magical first cup o’ Joe.
That’s it. That’s my magic trick for a solid start to my days. A simple staging the night before that takes only a few minutes. A trick learned from predawn runs. Ritual before sitting down to write. Always showing up and letting the muse have her way.
