Toss Some ROCKS

Anchoring Today By Tossing Some

ROCKS

Running yesterday was brutal. Of course it was 1pm, upper 80's and probably our first real humid day of the year. But the morning had been just as harsh. Steve and I had to work through some business issues that were very stressful; Cade, our "newly legal" 21 year old, had just found out he needed to be out of his dorm 15 hours away in 72 hours; and my "former" job still hadn't replied if they got our unemployment files submitted. Since there was absolutely nothing I could do to relieve any of it at that moment, by 1pm, a run sounded like the best option. So a good, sweaty trail run it would be.

ROCKS.

Lots of them - to negotiate and maneuver as I entered the trail head. Most of our trails around here have a quick little decline "drop in" with those little limestone obstacles everywhere. This one has lots. Jog, jive, juke, skip, double hop, lots of maneuvering and I was "in". And man, was it hot. This outing would be a slow and steady "heat acclimating" saunter. My legs felt like bricks. No big hurries. I made it to the creek, navigating on the perfectly placed stepping stones.

ROCKS.

The sun was bearing down and I was not out performing the heaviness in my chest. Usually, my "go to" prescription for friends having stressful seasons is to Get Out and Get Active - "you gotta go breathe," I tell them. However, still, three miles in, it was painful to breathe. The catch in my chest was real. It was controlling my gate, the speed of my progress, the depth and level of which I could resuscitate some life into my soul.

The weight of my legs was reminding me of those mid-day Kona Ironman training runs. Starting my marathon training runs at 11am, 24 miles in length, three weeks in a row, leading up to the event. Knowing I was training for the very hot, humid, Big Island third event, the marathon, which I'd typically start running mid - to late afternoon after swimming 2.6 and biking 112 miles, I'd always figured the best way to prepare for that was to run in similar circumstances. Adapting for the sweltering afternoon sun, the oppressive volcano fog - "Kona Vog" - and that black, radiating lava.

ROCKS.

Today's run was just as stifling. I continued my Texas heat "shuffle", I felt heavy, no energy, no pep. I realized it was more than the heat getting me down. I was literally carrying more than my physical load; I needed to shed some mental and emotional baggage. I remembered my friend, scientist and author of Blue Mind, Wallace J. Nichols. "We all are carrying a back pack of rocks," I've heard him tell many audiences. "If we were to set the pack down, we should pull each rock out, acknowledge the burden it's caused us, and then see which ones we can toss and discontinue to carry."

ROCKS.

What ROCKS had I chosen to pack along, strap on the extra weight and burden of? What was really not necessary, not within my control? There was enough going on that was truly bludgeoning my heart and soul, but which ones was I electing to bring along also? Lord knows I didn't need to be packing along anything extra.

I gave up the TV, minimizing viewing time to only one 30 minute news show daily. Our brains have a negative bias, meaning scientifically, we internalize the negative information to a higher degree than positive, which can lead to increased cortisol, anxiety, sadness, depression, outbursts and/or anger. Don't need that ROCK.

My son has to move out of his dorm in 72 hours. Inconvenient to get from Texas to Arizona - somehow - to help him move? Yes. But I didn't need to pack the ROCK. He's got to move. Period. What "stuff" he leaves for the dorm staff to pack up and store and what he stuffs into his "first born" Subaru, I don't need that ROCK. He will get the important items; the rest is just "stuff". Toss that ROCK.

Cleaning. Wiping. Cloroxing. Constantly cleaning. Do not want the enemy to get in. Am I following all guidelines, keeping "the" distance, washing accordingly? Yes. Doing it all. Will continue to do it all. Letting go and trusting in that ROCK.

Our 17 year old is on the brink of emotional distress at the thought of missing the highly coveted, highly esteemed senior year. Yes, it is super sad for them. Yes, even my minimally-compassionate self would agree that the "one and only" high school senior year is one of life's most fun, most celebrated, sweetest life chapters. But there's absolutely nothing at this very moment in time I can do about changing that. Shelving that ROCK.

And then there's my 92 year old dad. 95% blind. 70% deaf. 200% stubborn (Yes, I'm saying it: the apple falls right under the tree.) Dad refuses to let anyone run his errands for him, is adamant that our 21 year old or sweet lifelong neighbor take him INTO stores (can you say Lowe's, Super S and Randall's all in one day??!) Now he's furious with us for putting the gauntlet down, refusing to take him any place, but happy and willing to go any place for him. "So are you refusing to help me?" he asks. Ouch. Sucker punch. Happy to record I didn't use my ROCK, but instead set it gently, with love and compassion beside the trail, knowing I'd come back for this one when the time is right.