Joan Anderson

Last  weekend which was beastly hot and humid, my husband and I headed north to crew for our son Andy in the Vermont 100, an endurance running race of 100 miles, You heard me, 300 athletes choosing to run that far…crazy, I admit, but nonetheless, a respectable sport for many. In any case, these runners need some assistance, “handlers” we’re called, and as such, part of a team that we hadn’t (as a family) been part of for a long time.

Packed in the trunk of the car was a cooler full of ice, organic turkey, avocado, Greek yogurt, Gatorade, and water, while the rest of the supplies were tucked neatly in the back seat…bouillon, ginger tablets, Succeed, Goop, and more. He had given us a shopping list of necessities, having run these races for ten years now and knew precisely what nourishment was needed to accomplish such a feat.

The start was in a pasture where Chariots of Fire music blared over a P.A. system at 4 am as the gun went off.  We watched him run mightily into the dark knowing that we wouldn’t see him for 4 hours, at which point he  would have run the equivalent of a marathon! We had learned at a pre-race meeting that each runner had developed  their own survival techniques…”they know what they need,” the race director advised. “You, the crew, are there to take orders and support.”

As planned and on schedule, Andy reappeared at Stage Road, one of three at the head of the pack, with a determination in his eyes that said get me my nourishment without me having to break my stride. As he walked along gobbling yogurt, while grabbing Goop, and reaching for his two refilled bottles, he was off in less than 30 seconds, not unlike the roadrunner of cartoon fame.

With adrenaline flowing, we jumped into the car and sped off to the next station reconfiguring how we could streamline the procedure at the next aid station. This went on throughout the day…as the temperature increased, and other runners cramped or dropped, my husband and I, although increasingly worn could not admit it under the circumstances…we were driving…he was running!

In the end, Andy came in first and we were both stunned  and proud.

But as we stood there  watching his radiant smile and observing his stable condition, we were even more gifted by his answers to questions from onlookers and the press.

It occurred to me that you can’t run the race for your child, husband or anyone else for that matter. The runner runs his race, and we can only support him.

Moreover, endurance for any of life’s challenges takes focus, discipline, positive thinking, and a strong will. Just like when one is giving birth and the mother cannot think of another thing, so it is for many significant events.

When I asked Andy why he didn’t just run 100 K’s (which are 60 miles) he was quick with his answer: “Oh, I wouldn’t win them,” he said. “It’s the extra forty miles that most people can’t do…where they break down. That’s where my strength is…going beyond the ordinary.”

How true I thought…that everything I have ever done that I believed in took not only an extra push but all the qualities I just witnessed in my son during this race. As he says and I now concur: “It’s the hard that makes it great.”

SELF ESTEEM

Sitting on the beach the other day with an old and trusted friend, the issue of self esteem came up. “How do we maintain our self esteem in the midst of crumbling relationships, myriad failures both minor and huge, and wrong choices that mark us as stupid,” she asked, to name a few.

I leaned my head on the back of my beach chair and realized she had hit upon a subject that was crucial for me at this time.

My first thought was how fragile my self esteem was right now—there was not a lot to brag about and my stature was slipping. It occurred to me that the slightest slip of the tongue, the smallest mistake, even a social faux pas can alter our self critical selves momentarily or forever!

I recall my mother having a dinner party one hot summer evening to which she had invited eight very important and relatively wealthy guests. She so wanted to impress them with her culinary skills and prove that she was up to the task of high level entertaining. But alas, it was a dismal failure. The first course burned, her down home Cape Cod cooking was not to anyone’s liking, and she ran out of wine. My mother wilted like a piece of limp lettuce, bid them goodbye and never had another dinner party, I mean never, for the rest of her life.

We women are so hard on ourselves and oh my, how high we set the bar! For me it started very young—those I held in esteem were rich and famous, thin and fancy—they attended Ivy League schools, belonged to fancy clubs, and were almost all accomplished scholars.

Where did that leave me? I had a huge mountain to climb if ever I was to have even a modicum of self esteem. But just now as the breeze is blowing through my hair and the waves are tickling my feet I am gifted with a few answers to my friends questions. John O’Donohue said it all: “No matter how dull or ineffectual a life may be, something eternal is happening.”

Self esteem has nothing to do with achievement and everything to do with appreciation of self—the recognizing of individual qualities, being fully aware of our gifts and using them frequently. We are each needed for what we bring.  Our lives are the opportunity to find exact situations where we can fulfill our unique callings. No more underestimating self. Instead reach for the favorable regard and self respect we so often gift to others.

The Fourth of July holiday is behind us. I can already sense the sound of less traffic and a sense of calm in the air. So many tourists, intent upon squeezing every bit of seaside juice out of their time here, bring an element of intensity that feels like the city, stamping out the tranquil ambience those of us who live here, crave.

It is already hot and I am filled with heavy thoughts that make me not want to greet the day. Instead of pushing them away, I meander down to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, choose  carefully from my mug collection, and am now sipping coffee on the side porch where a breeze has miraculously found its way up to our house from the sea.

The house is still, making it easier to hear a symphony of birds tweeting from the bushes and  trees that dot our property. In an effort to clear my head and let the possibility of positive thought invade my being I hold onto a crystal given to me after a healing massage and begin to whisper…may I be happy, may I be peaceful, may I be free from suffering and then wishing the same for others that I know and love. A calm overtakes me and my early morning malaise begins to lift. The word DELIBERATE comes to mind…which to me means acting with a full consciousness…carefully considering how I CAN be rather than letting myself be pulled here or there by the whim of  another, the news, the mood of the times, whatever.

I have a favorite quote by T.S.Eliot that hangs in my office: “Human kind cannot bear very much reality.” I cannot bear the bad news coming from my children or the horror stories that permeate the media. I can however, be embellished by that which is in front of my face…the sea, the dunes, the flowers, the fresh air and revel in simple existence. It only takes being deliberate with my intentions to go from the dark to the light.