Glowing, growing, and... dripping?

Running in the rain, my secret to habit formation, and a reminder that I'm not made of sugar, but I am made of questions.

I listened to a podcast about sabbaticals recently, and the speaker said that it takes folks about 6 to 8 weeks to fully settle in and feel like themselves. I think I believe that, because we’re going into week 6 of my break, and I feel like I’ve turned an unexpected but delightful corner.

One of the themes I’ve hit on every week, I think, is some level of anxiety about how to spend my time well. Then last week I finally realized that I don’t have a limitless amount of time, and trying to cram in an overwhelming number of activities is kinda missing the point.

And so, I’ve relaxed.

Almost every day, I’ve had an opportunity to connect with friends. A coffee here, a lunch there, a drop in visit, a video chat - it’s all been so fulfilling. Wholesome and heart-warming - to me, this is truly the definition of a rich life.

I’ve been cooking, reading, and writing. I’ve been running, listening to my favorite podcasts, and playing in the garden. I’ve spent more time with my kids, really tuning into what they’re into right now. I went to a volunteer orientation and met four new friends when we discovered that weirdly, we all speak German. It feels like I’ve finally figured out the slower pace.

Source: Joanne Guidoccio

Welcome to chaos, and also things I have learned recently

I wanted to do a mini-reflection for myself, with 5 weeks of sabbatical under my belt, to see if any major learnings jumped out at me. Aside from how chill I’ve been feeling, I can feel my focus coming back. I no longer feel like my brain is fragmented. This is funny, because I think in some ways I’m actually feeling scatter-brained for the first time in a long time, in a cute, whimsical, artsy kind of way.

Before, I had many tightly held systems that kept my heavily scheduled life and task list moving. Now that there’s less pressure and less urgency, my focus has increased, and I am deploying it mostly towards creative tasks, cooking, and reading. That means there are all the little things that I used to keep track of that I no longer have a system for. Instead of gripping them tightly, trying to make sure none of them slip away, I’ve adopted a sort of loosely held, chaos-based system. For the most part, it hasn’t caused any major blunders; just a few grocery list-based mishaps and a few things I might could’ve done sooner. But I guess I didn’t need to, because the world hasn’t ended yet. Maybe keeping a tight grip on everything did nothing but use up some of my precious energy.

What I’ve learned from running in the rain

I really love living in the South. Over the past few years, I’ve been steeping in gratitude for how much time we get to spend outside. I know there are Northerners reading this, and I know that you have adapted to be much tougher than us, running with your ice spikes and snow suits. We can restart the “who has it worse” Olympics in a few weeks, when I’ll swear it feels like 140℉ outside and that my electrolytes are evaporating from my eyeballs as I blink. But for today, let’s set that aside, and go for a stroll in a lukewarm Southern downpour.

A visualization exercise

I’d like to invite you to imagine yourself as a brand new runner. You’ve downloaded a new running app, and you’re following the plan it recommends diligently. The first few weeks of running are horrendous. You’re getting passed by octogenarians who look concerned as they pass you. “Are you alright? You’re awfully red!” they say. You are certain they have been planted here specifically to mock you. Everything is sore, including your lungs, from breathing so hard. You had hoped it was a cardiac event, so that you could be done with this foolishness, but no such luck.

But as the weeks pass, things start to look up. You’re less sore. The breathing gets better. You develop opinions about different hills in your neighborhood, and measure your daily fortitude by whether or not you’re willing to drag your body up them. You might, possibly, be looking forward to running in the morning, but you’re not sure you’re ready to admit that yet.

And then - the unthinkable. Your alarm goes off one morning, and you hear a sound. Rain, pattering gently on your roof. What happens next?

A decision, an opportunity, and a reframing

Spoiler alert, I was once this beginner runner. I was so determined not to be swayed from my running plan that I signed up for a gym membership just so that I would have access to a treadmill on bad weather days. As I would soon learn, I find the treadmill so torturous that I would rather be out in the rain.

I am reminded of the Scandinavian saying, “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes!” My dad uttered this frequently when I was a child. This is the kind of saying that, at the age of 8, is liable to convince you that your parents are crazy, and on a mission drive you crazy as well. “That is not true, there is OBJECTIVELY bad weather!” little me insists.

Grown me agrees, though I have to begrudgingly admit that my definition of bad weather has certainly evolved. I have no interest in getting electrocuted, so no, I don’t run in thunderstorms. I have even less desire to be felled by a falling tree limb when the winds are sawing through the trees with reckless abandon. Some of the trails I like to run on flood, so they’re out on rainy days too, both to keep me from slipping in muddy puddle slicks and because I would love to not be swept away.

One more parent-ism, this one from the Germans, as delivered by my mother: “You’re not made of sugar! You won’t melt!” This is a bit nonsensical, in that water also has to be hot for the sugar to melt, at least within any reasonable amount of time, and if the rain were boiling, we’d be in real trouble. BUT, suspending our quibbles with it for a moment - for the sake of a run, what really is the danger in a little bit of rain? Especially in a nice Southern spring, where the water is certainly not boiling, but frequently a pleasant temperature. You’re going to be sweaty anyway, so why not be a little damp all over?

We have so many opportunities to ask ourselves, “What am I really afraid of?” Running in the rain has done that for me. I have feared being cold, which I solved with trial and error of various gear choices. I have feared slipping, only to trip over my own feet in perfect conditions multiple times. Rain requires additional planning and vigilance, but I’m at least as much a danger to myself as the weather, and, unfortunately, running requires that I take myself everywhere I go.

After my first run in the rain, in which I was cold, wet, and struggling to see as water poured into my eyeballs, I realized I was… happy? I had conquered something that felt impossible. Who even was I right now? What kind of glorious Viking awakens before dawn and runs in THE RAIN? A hero, a warrior, an insufferable braggart.

The life-changing power of smugness

This is not the kind of blog post where I wax poetically about real virtue. No. There is empowerment that comes with doing the things that seemed impossible just the day before, but also bestows a tool that I have weaponized on my behalf ever since: smugness, the unsung hero of habit formation and goal achievement.

There are all sorts of virtues that tell us not to revel in our small wins - to hold them close to our chests with quiet pride. But when you are trying to do something new that is hard for you, something fresh and vulnerable, something that runs counter to the magnetization of your bones that draws you towards your incredible couch nest, you need to do the exact opposite.

Whenever I completed a run in suboptimal conditions, I would come home and be completely insufferable for the rest of the day. This season was particularly delightful, because my husband joined me. We’d flex in the kitchen, crowing about our strength of body and spirit, our indomitable wills, the carved slopes of our calves. All day, I’d slink about, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. At even the slightest provocation, I’d tell my husband or my kids, “Well, you know, I did run in the rain this morning, so I’ll definitely be able to do [whatever minor thing they asked me to].”

My kids really picked up on this. They enjoyed mocking us, which is completely fair, but I realized they were seeing us celebrate our progress. They were seeing us celebrate real, imperfect human bodies with loving kindness. They saw us overcoming obstacles - rain, bad gear choices, and insecurity.

Sometimes we just need a reminder of how adaptable we are, how much we can endure, and that honestly, sometimes the things we’re worried about are blessedly not as bad as we’d made them out to be in our minds. Smugness fuels the habit loop, in which we reward ourselves for doing the thing, and rewire our brains to realize that doing the thing wasn’t that bad.

On Monday, the weather forecast lied, and instead of the rain dulling to a soft mizzle as I embarked on my route, the skies opened. I am usually prepared for the forecast to be wrong, but this morning, I wasn’t. Water sloshed in my shoes. Water pelted into my eyes with such force that at some points I was alternating running with one eye open and one eye closed. I looked up at one point, to see a lone Tai Chi practitioner on a covered pavilion, filming me as I ran past. This was right at the point where one eye was open and the other squinched shut, so I’m sure the view was spectacular. At the end of my route, I threw my arms up in a victory squeal. I am unstoppable! For if the very heavens cannot stop me, who could possibly stand in my way?¹

I am the hare, napping on the side of the track

Who could possibly stand in my way? Me, it seems. I have learned how to split myself in two, just so I can stand in my own way.

I've had a realization that there are some things that are important to me that I haven’t prioritized yet. When I stopped working, I really wanted to be more active outside of my running. In my first post, I wrote:

Sitting for 10 hours a day does not do the body good. While I also want to be more consistent with exercise, I primarily want to be more active throughout my day. If three months from now, I’m still spending 90% of my waking hours sitting in a chair, I will not have substantially improved my health.

I sort’ve assumed that would just… resolve itself, since I had/have so many active aspirations. But it turns out that my primary active hobby, running, continues on just as it always has (though it’s been going really well!) and when I started to look at what I was doing each day, I hadn't actually increased my activity at all.

This struck me last week, when I thought, “Wow, I’ve had such a busy day!” and then for some reason, as I was recapping all the things I’d done that day to my husband at dinner, I realized I had been sitting essentially from the moment I hopped out of the shower at 7:30 that morning. Lemme give you the rundown:

• Went for a run (yay)

• Showered (standing, for those interested)

• Got ready, then met a friend for coffee (2 hours of sitting and chatting)

Also worth noting, I drove to and from the coffee shop because it was raining. But it really wasn’t raining that much, and the coffee shop is barely half a mile from my house.

• Lunch (sitting)

• Reading (sitting)

• Get child from bus (sitting in car)

• Drive child to afterschool activity (eons in the car)

• Wait on child at activity (reading; sitting)

• Drive back (a second eon in the car)

• Proclaim loudly that I have been so active today, only to realize I have actually been so sedentary

I keep making jokes about doing activities on my Peloton, which is really a distraction from the fact that I haven’t been on my Peloton at all. The most active parts of my day are usually in the morning, when I run and garden, and in the evening, when I stand to cook. The rest of the time, I have merged into my couch.

I don’t think this is the worst - my couch is so lovely. I’ve been playing a very critical role in providing a lap for our elderly cat to sit in all day. I also think I’ve been doing a lot of the things I set out to do - I’m spending so much time writing in a variety of different formats, diving deep into my books, and hanging out with the kids. I’ve spent time resting and reflecting and daydreaming. Those are all great things.

It’s almost harder to point out where to make changes because they ARE all great things. It seems that I must revisit the art of lifestyle design, and rework the shape of my days a bit to support this goal. This feels very much like the point of what I’m doing on my break - designing a life that feels authentic to me and sustainable, which encompasses my desire to live healthfully forever for a very long time.

I am also the resistance

I have mentioned a myriad of times now that I think creating a schedule would help. Have I done that? I have not. I have rested comfortably on the big rocks of my schedule and let the sand run lazily through my fingers. I have luxuriated in the freedom of not making choices. And you know what? I think I might luxuriate in that freedom a bit longer.

I think the key is to figure out how to work a bit of movement into more of the activities I’m choosing on the fly. If I’m sitting in the backyard reading, could I get up after a half hour and pick a few weeds? If I want to read, could I take a short walk first, then settle in smugly knowing I have taken care of myself in this way? What are activities I could temptation bundle with movement? How could I redesign my living spaces to support more activity?

Right now, I don’t have answers, just questions and musings. I am contemplating a standing desk with a walking pad for my shed. I am considering building a standing desk for myself for the backyard, which meets multiple goals by letting me tinker with my carpentry skills AND create an outdoor environment for writing AND create a healthy standing space. I ordered a little shelf attachment for the Peloton so that I could, conceivably, write or read on the bike.

I don’t know where I’ll end up, but I endeavor for it to not be a chair for quite as many hours per day.

Lightning round: some fave moments from the past week

• So many fun friend dates this week!

• I spontaneously took my daughter out for ice cream one night after school, and it was a lovely time together.

• My son insisted on going to the farmers market the moment it opened, and he was totally right - getting there early scored us some local sourdough, including a sourdough scone and sourdough focaccia.

• Instead of doing monster multi-hour weeding sessions in our yard, I’ve endeavored to spend just a few minutes every day, and it has been wonderful! So peaceful.

• I finally wrote a Google review for my massage therapist after he told me how much it helps him personally. He deserves it, for he is the best.

• I won a wine tasting at a silent auction my husband and I participated in! I can’t wait to get it scheduled and invite our friends and have so much fun!

Next time

Well, last time I promised there would be Project No Lawn content in this post, and then the rain happened and I had to lean into my desire to write about it. So perhaps next time I’ll tell you about our new pollinator-oriented front yard!

I’ll also have a gardening with ghosts update, but for real this time: I’m volunteering with the gardening team at a local cemetery. But I’ll also lean into any new learnings and musings and insights from my time puttering about, so let’s consider this a loosely held promise, yeah?

As a reminder, one of the best ways to support this publication is to share it with your friends!

PS: I am considering leading an Artist’s Way group, starting in June. If you’d be interested in joining us, please drop a comment or send me a note!

1. This is generally the statement someone utters right before they are struck by lightning, I am aware. But thankfully the heavens are willing to engage in my humor today, and I am still here.