Thirty Something Special

There are many people that say life is about balance. I think that camp also spawns the folks that declare the secret (to what, who knows) is moderation. I believe there’s a saying, likely from a time when car windows were made from untempered glass, that too much of a good thing is harmful in some way. Too much candy makes you sick. Too much love drives your beloved away, and we all live to find the balance between enough space and loneliness. Hold on everyone but do so loosely. They say life is dictated by the forces of yin and yang, give and take. Or something along those lines.

Until an embarrassingly late age I thought it was “ying and yang” that went together like peas and carrots. An idiotic mistake, I know, and one that basically sums up my relationship to the ‘everything in moderation’ mantra. I’m going a million miles a minute and then not, commuting daily on the subway with dread, the slightest inconvenience exhausting. In marathon mode you’ll find me running miles upon miles with ease. And then just like that the excuses I conjure to avoid exercise seem to roll so naturally off my tongue it’s like I have them saved in the notes section of my phone. Workwise it’s more of the same. I’m crushing it or I’m uninspired, my daily to-do lists falling on a spectrum of enthusiasm that ranges from blank to professional bullet journalism.

What a roller coaster, amiright? I may be exaggerating a little bit, but then again that would be fitting given the paragraphs you just read. I often wonder why I find myself rolling with the pace of life one day and fighting it the next. Is it because I live in the city that never sleeps? Do I need to eat more vegetables? Drink more water? Are my chakras misaligned? What the hell is a chakra anyways?

Recently, life has me spending less time in the Big Apple. Though it’s been a welcome escape, the lull of suburban life hasn’t seemed to mellow the rolling tide of my psyche. Currently in marathon training mode, I’m slogging away miles on the tree-lined sidewalks of quaint neighborhoods almost as often as I am in the city. In comparison, I’ve found the electricity I feel before a run isn’t dictated by where I am. Whether I wake up to the sirens racing up Amsterdam Ave or to the sounds of acorns hitting the shingled roof of the house next door has little impact on the tenacity with which I attack each run and even each day.

Maybe, in writing this now, I’m understanding that marathon mode is just a rose-colored memory from the past. Was I really all in during training in previous years? I’m guessing no. There were likely days I dreaded lacing up my sneakers for my daily runs. Recalling times over the years when I was “killing it” at the office, were there days I woke up and wanted to roll over and go right back to sleep? The answer is likely yes. Perhaps where I recall an imbalance in my zest for life I was simply recovering, taking a necessary breather to ensure my readiness for the next event. Or, maybe I do live life one quarter mile at a time (name that movie) – engine revved one minute and slamming on the breaks the next.

The cause of this imbalance continues to allude me but I’m finding as I get older my ability to personally calibrate has improved. Not a lot – but Rome wasn’t built in a day. Realizing that others rely on me being me, regardless of where I find myself on the energy spectrum at a given time, has a metronomic balancing effect. When I find myself pulled too far down the rabbit hole of work or training or a relationship, it’s my family and friends that take the blinders off and pull me back to neutral. Being all in can be beneficial at times. But being a good sister, daughter, friend, colleague and person is more important. Taking a step back from everything also has its benefits, but pulling the covers over one’s head is never a good tactic in any storm.

I have no real answers as I sit here writing. I will still count every other step as I ascend those tough hills during my training runs to distract myself from the pain. Afterwards, I’ll wring out my bandana, steady my breathing, and await the soreness that’s surely to come. Then there’s work, family, friends, Hudson, and life to deal with. They comprise a fixed checklist that transcends my daily struggles and victories. What’s most important these days is to stay focused on just that, juggling the aches and pains of life and what matters most. And putting one foot in front of the other. If I can just hold on loosely, balance will surely follow.