A Barefoot Rose By Any Other Name was not the first title of my blog. After being consumed with obsessions in barefoot running and blogging, I decided to take the big plunge into barefoot fortune and fame declaring myself to be Barefoot Rose! The Barefoot Runner and best undiscovered blogger in which that undiscovered status would soon change from the droves of barefoot runners flocking to my page just because I was a barefoot runner.
That declaration went over like two ships passing in the night. The only thing to note the change in my user name and blog title was an automated computer reply from WordPress saying, “Welcome, Barefoot Rose”. All six of my readers are relatives or nearly-tives.
Can I still be Barefoot Rose if I’m not barefoot running and wear shoes 50-60% of the time?
Well, despite your answer, I’m not taking it back. That’s where the By Any Other Name comes into play. Runner or not. Blogger or not. I am the Barefoot Rose.
I’ve committing myself to barefoot walking in the morning. I will build up to barefoot running, some day, but for now I run in shoes (Altra zero drop, light cushion).
I still mostly hate shoes. Too big, too small, too narrow, too floppy, too slippery, too stiff, too hot…too smelly.
Susan, my New Jersey intern turned friend from Port Huron, and I sat around a summer back yard fire catching up on life and parenthood.
“Are you still running?” she inquired.
A month earlier, I was at a conference networking with your standard R&D introverts. It would have been a slow conversation if it hadn’t been for the free beer and wine at the happy hour. We were discussing the challenges of getting up at 5 am to run in the scholarship fundraiser 5K. Not one of us was planning on running it. The woman next to me admitted that she used to run but she’d gotten injured and never got back into running. I nodded my head knowing what she meant.
I used to fear getting injured so bad that I wouldn’t be able to run while I waited to heal. Three running styles, five pairs of shoes, a set of bare feet, months of early morning walks, turning 40 and two missed Girls On The Run events later, I realize my fear was misplaced. I should have feared losing my desire to run.
I run sporadically. Often, I’ll run in the middle of my morning walk. But, am I running? ie., Am I a Runner?
I have never defined being a “Runner” by speed or distance. To me, being a runner has to do with attitude, desire and a runner’s high. Susan’s inquiry put me in a position where I had to face what had happened. I changed and I no longer feel like I am a runner.
Ever since Susan’s inquiry, I’ve pondered who am I, what am I doing and what do I want? I suppose this is another side affect of going over-the-hill. It’s hard to define a goal when you’ve already taken life’s major stepping stones, run a 5K, win a 5K, run a half, run a sub-25 5K, PR in the half, get injured and run a return 5K. What’s left? Maybe it’s time I did something crazy?
Jani: A midsummer’s celebration that is like celebrating New Year’s Eve only it makes New Year’s Eve look like Groundhog’s Day. (Note: Reasons for celebrating Jani will be covered under PseudoLatvian Novice : Transitioning from Light-Weight to Mid-Weight.
1. Build a bonfire by the lake.
2. Build a bonfire so big that it could be seen 10 miles away. Since you’ll need to be in the country side for this bonfire to avoid being arrested for arson, it helps to follow number 1 so “could be seen” will change to “can be seen”.
3. Put a bonfire up on a pole. Lighting this bonfire can be tricky. The old tradition is to have a young man with the proper skills light it with an arrow. However, one missed shot in the wrong location could lead to a wildfire that can be viewed 10 miles away which is not the way to complete number 2.
4. Adorn your head and the head of everyone else with a crown of flowers or leaves depending upon gender, preference, or availability of materials.
5. Eat cheese. If it doesn’t have seeds in it, you’ve got the wrong cheese.
6. Sing and dance all night until the sun comes up. What else are you going to do while you wait for that “10 mile” bonfire to burn out?
To sum it up, enjoy the fires, accessorize with organics, and forget that you need singing and dancing lessons. Or, go to Garezers where you can be indoctrinated into PseudoLatvianism in one night.
2013 Jani Bonfire in forefront and pole bonfire in the distance.
My siblings and I get along famously. So famously that when we were younger, people used to ask my mom how she got us to get along so well. I must admit that with a brother 6 years older, we didn’t always get along so famously when parents weren’t around. He was master of the game “Take a Seat”. I was master of taking a seat. Even though I remember hating that “game”, I really don’t feel any rivalry between my siblings and myself. I enjoy seeing them succeed and never feel the need to one up them.
This lack of competitiveness, of course, becomes a problem when my sister suggests that she and I compete in a weight loss challenge against each other where the biggest loser gets $50 from the actual loser. If I felt some sort of rivalry towards her then I would be motivated to make smart eating decisions resulting in a substantial advantage over her. Instead, I pick up the donut (or two) and tell myself it’s ok because surely, Penny will surge ahead on a wave of accomplishment that will carry her to a glorious finale. I just won’t care that she going to beat me. Thus, I’ll be sitting back, five pounds heavier, clapping for her as she crosses the finish line. I won’t even be able to cheer for her verbally because, at that time, I’ll have three brownies shoved in my mouth, “hurmmmfy Pemmffy!”
While I may not be characteristically competitive (against Penny), I am stIll characteristically a solution seeker. Resolutely, I decided to create an alternate set of rules for the challenge. In this game, on June 1st, the loser has to buy two pair of shorts. One pair for the winner to show off how good they look from all that weight loss. The other pair for themselves. Because the only thing worse than jeans shopping is swimsuit shopping. Since I am not a masochist, I settled for shorts. Even then, shorts is just as equally painful as shopping for jeans. The last thing you want to do after spending a month trying to lose weight is buy a pair of shorts in a bigger size. So, once again, to avoid being a masochist, whether I lose the most or lose the least, I’d better get losing!
As soon as I tell you that “I ran” my reflex is to minimize it with..
“But, I was slow”
“But, it was only a short distance.”
As if I am unable to claim an actual run for those reasons. I won’t be able to build the confidence to run a half marathon if I spend so much time bursting my bubbles of accomplishments.
…Before the sun came up.
…in 16 degrees temperature.
Those nine words give the same run a different outlook and, already, I feel lifted. But, I think I can do even better.
I ran an slow, agonizing mile before the sun came up on a dark, damp winter morning BUT I kicked butt.
I have been gagging on my food today. Let me tell you, the gagging isn’t caused by a threat of salmonell, the smell of pickled herring, or the dryness that comes from completely charred food.
I haven’t had a cookie in three days.
Or chocolate. Or ice cream. Or..
Yes, my body has gone into shock. If there was a microphone inside my body, this is what I think you’d hear..
EGADS! Where are the fricken cookies!!! Chicken?? Who does she think I am, Gracie Gold? This is ridiculous. I’ve been eating cookies everyday of my life. Not a thing wrong with me. If I don’t get some cookies this instant, I’ll go bang her head on the wall. Cookies!! Why, oh, Why can’t I have cookies!
Now repeat that but replace cookies with ice cream, chocolate, candy, donuts, and so on.
I wouldn’t recommend stepping into my office this week. I might barf this healthy chicken all over your shoes.
After all my praises, I shouldn’t have counted my chickens before they hatched.
Treadmill- Broken. Permanently.
I intend to start going to the new fitness center in town.
If it ever opens!
I’m tough. I’ll run outside. Running is more important than the weather.
Weather, yes. 1 foot of snow and sub-zero temperatures in the DARK??
I guess I’ll just keep dancing in front if the fireplace.
This is not my picture. I would love to credit you, whoever you are.