Rejoining the Race

My coworker and I have decided to run a half-marathon. Training started this week and I am excited. About 2 1/2 years ago I ran a half with my mom and some friends. I have put on my running shoes rather infrequently since then. There are many reasons why, but the prevailing theme of my life the past few years has been one of listlessness.

I don't know how many times I will say this, but this summer has been really good for me in a lot of ways. I feel like life is coming back to me and I am rediscovering what it is to breathe again. It feels good, but scary.

As I was running today, I began reexamining some of the things from my past that I have let hinder my movement forward and a poem came to me. An inspired moment, I guess. I rarely share my poems before multiple rounds of editing. This one, too, may evolve in time, but for right now it captures it. So here it is:


My running shoes are waiting expectantly
Tongues hanging out like dogs cooped up inside too long
They want to go out where they belong
And I am finally ready to fulfill their wishes.

My stride is hesitant, but I soon hasten my pace
Stroll, walk, power walk, jog...
The fog starts to lift as my feet carry me forward
My breath catching as my body powers on.

Unknown companions will their bodies alongside me
And I feel life snaking out from my chest
Spreading heat to my cheeks, hands, thighs
As I look to the skies for inspiration.

Quickening my steps, I throw caution to the wind
Then I sprint, no holds barred toward the finish line
Wind whipping around me in a giant congratulatory hug
Raindrops beating their praise against the gravel

Their collisions clapping to the rhythm of my heart,
A momentary interlude to this
Roller coaster of doubt and accomplishment.

As it intermingles with my sweat
I feel the heaviness snaking off of me
The juxtaposition of salt and water
Washing over a healing wound.

It stings, but not like before
I recognize the faintness of the pain
Propelling me through the rain
Further away from the past
Each step bursting into the future

I don’t know what is ahead, but I know its good.

And I won’t stop until I get there.


(c) 2010. G. Jones

Secret disService

I have led a very secretive life these past 20+ years. "I am a very private person," I would explain to anyone who dared to scratch the surface. It is true, but why it is true and how tightly I hold on to that identity has encouraged some reevaluation on my part.

I think there is something about this summer that is making me rethink the whole of who I am. I keep hearing the words of my friend, "[ be careful not to define yourself too narrowly ]." In a way, any definition we have of ourselves has to be dynamic. We change and we grow with each new experience. Everyone we meet shapes our character just a little bit more (for better or for worse). We are never the same.

Don't get me wrong, I do believe that there are parts of us that we choose to hold constant. There are the foundational parts of ourselves that help us to have some sense of self. On top of (or maybe interwoven with) those are the nuances that give us individuality. Sometimes we have to be daring as we live out who we really are. Sometimes we have to live by the words of one of my favorite Rent songs, "take me, baby, or leave me." There is courage in that. Dare I even say honor?

I was impressed by a group of friends I encountered a year ago. Their love for one another was so deep, so genuine. One of the friends had something she wanted to share with the others. I could sense the reluctance in her approach to the subject. Then, one of her friends said, "No secrets. You know we don't do that." Out of a wave of relief and belonging poured the girl's information to her friends. She had been granted the permission to be herself.

This brings me to the titular focus of this post. Secrets do us such a huge disservice. They squelch who we are and force us into places of shame. The truth really will set you free. While I am not of the belief that you should share everything with everyone, you should be surrounded by the kind of community that frees you to live a secret free live in their midst.

I am just coming from a place where I felt I had "hide" myself. Every time I ventured into authenticity, I was met with opposition. Talk about oppression...

However, I have had some opportunities to experience this type of community this summer. It is brand new territory for me. Its scary. I have the same fear that most people have, "If they see me for who I am will they still like me?" These days, I am thinking: so what if they don't? Sure, it stings a little, but better this small pain now than the deep ache of being unknown by those whom we call friends. No, from now on I choose freedom.

Regretful Character

Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, ambition inspired, and success achieved

- Helen Keller

I asked somebody the other day if they had regrets. They answered something like, "no, because every [decision and/or action] makes you who you are today."

It's true, but I can't help wondering if this way of thinking is a little misguided. I believe regret is an extremely useful tool. It is how you use it that determines if it will positively or negatively affect your life. I mean let's face it, we will screw things up. Sometimes even colossally. Most of us have things that we wish we could do over. Many of us would rewrite certain parts of our history. The trouble is, that we cant undo history.

So, we are left with the repercussions of it. Not just the external ones, but the internal ones as well. One of which is regret. If we wallow in it, we prolong the pain of poor decisions (or the poor decisions of others). However, if we learn from it, we forge a new pathway in our lives that leads to a better future. Regret, can be a powerful character building tool.

I find myself presented with such an opportunity. I stand at the crossroads of regret and the lure of Wallow Way is all too strong. Something in me is fighting hard to turn me in the direction of Lesson Learned Ln (yes, I realize the cheesiness of these attempts at alliteration and allegory). Bear with me as I unpack, this mental battle I am having with some metaphor.

Wallow way is attractive because it is a downhill road. It is easy in the sense that I don't have to work very hard to travel it. But it is rife with many secondary troubles that in my haste I can fail to see. Traveling downhill for any considerable amount of time is very hard on the joints. It wears at the very things that are in place to keep you together and mobile. Plus, it is so much harder to travel back uphill once you realize that you have chosen poorly. I beleive at a certain point, turning back is nearly impossible. In the end, you have little to show for it but exhaustion, more pain, and a deterioration of who you are. That on top of the original pain that caused the journey!

Lesson Learned Lane is unattractive because it is an uphill climb. It will take a lot of work to choose this direction. There will be a lot of sweat, pain, and tears on this path. But, with every step comes more and more strengthening of the muscles. As the muscles strengthen, the climb becomes easier. Though it is challenging there is a sense of accomplishment that comes with it. Oh, and did I mention endorphins! A pitfall is that it can be easy to turnaround and undo the hard work you have put in. Yet if you endure, in the end you have strength, accomplishment, and joy. You find redemption in a situation that started off seeming bleak.

Either road shapes your character. One for the better the other for the worse. I have found that some of my biggest regrets have come from the repercussions of taking Wallow way after a previous regret. For instance, I am currently suffering a regret that is symptomatic of the state I have been in following a much prolonged period of wallowing. This period left me destitute and unsure of who I was. My character had become one of a defeated person. As a result, I rashly made some choices that I should have given more thought. I hadn't built up enough stamina to resist the temptation of instant gratification. I slid a little further downhill.

I am sick of that road. It is a miserably boring travel route. I need a new adventure and I refuse to continue on this path. I don't care how much work it takes. I am willing to take chances, and I am fully aware that that means the potentially for a few slip and falls. But, I would rather be tripping uphill than tumbling down it.

Legs don't fail me know.

Youth in Revolt: Resculpting my life

This summer is shaping up to be something vastly different than I had envisioned.

Some sculptors can look at a piece of clay and see the finished work even before they lay a hand on it. Others spend days, weeks, months looking for inspiration before they ever began chipping away. Even still some sculptors, dive right into the clay molding and shaping it with no certain direction in mind. They feel the clay. They let it speak to them as their fingers press further in and smooth it out. Yet, it is never a completely blind journey. Along the way, they discern what feels right to them or where they have made a wrong movement. They shape and reshape until it feels right. Before they know it, they have created a work of art.

I have never looked at my life and had clarity about what it should be. I have had pockets of inspiration and moments of great passion about something or some idea. But, I have yet to begin to conceive of the finished product.

I have however, spent days, weeks, months, years even trying to "figure it out." Sometimes I wonder if I have planned the better part of my youth away. Especially when I look back over my life and wonder if I have really lived it at all.

What do I have to show for it? Do I buy the script that I have followed?

Lately, I have taken the way of the free spirited sculptor. I have tired of the planning and decided to dive in, for better or for worse. Even in this short amount of time, I have had some moments of great brilliance and some missteps, but the past month has been more invigorating than the past few years. I am in revolt. Revolt against how my life should be.

My aim: to reclaim what is left of my youth.

But, I dare not do this alone. Despite the questionable status of my spiritual beliefs these days, I can never deny the power of God. I know that God guides me in the way that I should go and challenges me to be a better person. I am just not certain that what I previously thought that looked like is actually what it is. I am certain that there is something bigger than this flesh and bone that sees a bigger picture that eludes me. Even the sculptor has a muse (identified or not) that guides her along the way. That muse keeps her going when her hands grow weary and her fingers began to cramp. He keeps her inspired and energized to see it through. So it is with me and God.

Someone once said to me something to the effect of "be careful not to narrowly define yourself." While, I am not sure of that person's motives at the time of sharing that statement, it has stuck with me. I have done just that for a long time. In fact, I have so narrowed the definition that I no longer know who I am any more. Now I am out to rediscover who I am. Remolding and allowing myself to give in to the ebb and flow of life and hoping for a masterpiece.