Adventures of the Former Elginista

Today, I made myself get out of bed and then made the bed. I made coffee and scrambled eggs. I made a study guide for tomorrow’s exam. I made lunch and a nest of blankets for the cat to burrow in, away from the cold. I made butternut squash tacos and a mess in the kitchen, which I promptly cleaned up.

Today’s #Reverb10 prompt asks, “Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?” It definitely threw me for a loop.

I make things every single day, but they’re not necessarily tangible, inedible items that I can point to and say, “I made that.” (Though I did build some bookcases.)

But over any given period of time, I do indeed make lots of things.

I make music, singing in the shower or vacuuming.

I make plans for tonight, next week, next month and the next generation, fully aware that plans are made to be broken.

I make new friends and acquaintances. I (probably) make new enemies.

I make people laugh, sometimes unintentionally.

I make fire and ice, though I’m not sure which I favor.

I make decisions, sometimes too late.

I make money and progress and a life.

Because really, making is the same as doing. Think about how many phrases in English rely on “make” to make sense (ahem). In describing your day, you have to “make”time and room and other abstracts while you make a coffee run or photocopies.

And doing is a marvelous thing. In July, I blogged about the nirvana of doing, quoting Thomas Jefferson:

“Determine never to be idle. No person will have occasion to complain of the want of time who never loses any. It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing.”

So while I can’t show you a tea cosy or scarf I’ve recently made, I don’t feel at a loss for making. In fact, I think I’m going to make it after all.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Today’s #reverb10 prompt has a very easy answer, and a much less apparent answer:

Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

A year ago, I was planning a July wedding, which I called off in February. I ended the relationship entirely a couple months later.

But that’s too simplistic. Thinking it through, 2010 was not just the year I woke up, it was the year I let go of my preconceived notions of myself.

Growing up, I was always the fat kid, the bookworm who had no athletic talent – or desire to do anything active. The klutz who lead all the academic and nerdy teams and clubs in high school. It suited me. And I thought it was who I would always be.

But nearly two years ago, when I started my new healthier lifestyle, I shifted that paradigm. As I got lighter and stronger, I got braver. I found a new confidence I’d never known before. It was exciting. Exhilarating.

As I rounded the corner into 2010, I started leveraging that confidence and realized I didn’t need to conform to the stereotypes I had established for myself half a lifetime ago. I truly could be anyone I wanted to be, including a runner, a grad student, a neighborhood leader, all titles I lacked a year ago.

And while I didn’t pick up the Mrs. I had planned to this year, I’m very satisfied with how things have turned out. By letting go of my teenage concept of self, I’ve finally started to grow up into an even better version. Letting go has empowered me to go forward to bigger and better things.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Day 3 of #reverb10: Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

In addition to being awake this year, I’ve felt more alive than ever. I set out for a long run this afternoon with the prompt churning in my head (and quickly ran 8 miles instead of the 6 I intended).

The strongest “alive” moment happened on Memorial Day, as I was nearing the end of the Elgin Fox Trot, my very first 5k. It was an oppressively hot, sticky humid morning, even at 7 AM. On previous days like that, I’d delayed my run until the evening cool down, but I was so excited for that race. I stopped for water at both aid stations and drank it down, dribbling water over my chin and shirt as I realized I’ve never tried to drink while running. The water clung to my shirt and made it feel heavier and damp.

Fortunately, most of the route was through a historic neighborhood with large, mature trees lining the streets, providing some very welcome shade.

But as we came to the end, running downhill, down the middle of Douglas Street where it crosses Kimball – usually a very busy intersection I’d never crossed without waiting for the light – the trees ended and we were thrust into the full, glaring blaze of the sun. Right at that point, we passed the three mile marker. Both sides of the street were lined with thick crowds, cheering that we were almost there, so close, just another tenth of a mile. The crowds surged as we truly raced downhill towards the finish line, just a tenth of a mile, less than that, and I got caught up in it and ran like I had never run during my two paltry months of training. My heart pounded nearly as hard as my feet were slamming into the hot, steaming asphalt, and I tasted the salty sweat streaming down my face. I took longer strides than my short legs had ever been capable of, and I felt like I was flying. Just a tenth of a mile, then a twentieth where I saw my parents, beaming, then the finish was in sight. I ran, pushing myself to the end, and I wanted to cry. The fat kid was finishing a 5k on a hot, humid May day, just two months after running my first quarter mile in a decade.

I must have smiled for the next six hours. And that is why I run – to reclaim that feeling, to feel the blood pulsing through my veins, to know that, with discipline, hard work, and focus, I can finish what I started.

There have been other moments this year where I was acutely aware of being alive, awake and in control of my life.

The February morning I spent wading in the cold, gray Pacific in Coronado, CA when I made some very big decisions stands out. I can still feel the sand between my toes, which felt strangely free after months of being confined by the boots of a Chicago winter. I can taste the sangria I drank at a little cafe after that walk, and taste the fresh cilantro I ate with the fish tacos at that same cafe. I can see the Hotel Del Coronado lurking in the background, as it has for a century, the sunlight reflecting off the red roof and spoiling the pictures I tried to take. I can hear the quiet, how all noises were overruled by the ocean as the waves crashed into the shore. There were almost no people around, just a few kids playing and a woman sketching.

Or the August night when I biked to Wing Park for a concert with friends, laying in the grass on a blanket, staring up at the sunset as I sipped the wine we drank from water bottles, letting the music wash over me as I closed my eyes. As I left the park that night – after I turned down rides offered because of the ominous clouds closing in – the skies opened and it poured. I got drenched. The warm rain cool on my skin, and I got goosebumps as I brushed the strings of hair out of my face and wrung out the green tank top I wore. I raced down Edison Street towards home, splashing through puddles with abandon so my brakes no longer worked, and felt ALIVE.

There are other moments, which is a good dilemma to have. I would be worried if I had no moments of true life in  a single year.

How about you? When did you feel ALIVE in 2010?

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

Day 2 of #Reverb10 brings this prompt from Leo Babauta:

What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?

Each day? I don’t know. I run a pretty tight ship with my limited free time. There’s not a lot of time wasted. TV isn’t the time suck it used to be, as I’ve cut down quite a bit and don’t watch nearly as much. While I do while away hours on Twitter (and, less so, on Facebook), I find great inspiration and ideas from my networks and bookmark articles for later pondering.

School cuts down on my writing time, but again, it inspires ideas and isn’t something I’d give up. Plus, in the long run, it’s worth it.

No, I’m not really looking at any physical obstacles to my writing. So let’s go deeper.

I’ve gotten over some of the worst doubts about my writing. I even have a great trick to silence the inner editor and perfectionist tendencies. (Tip: change your font color to white until you’re done, THEN edit. Much more efficient than agonizing over and changing every word as you write.)

So really, I think the only thing that really gets in the way of my writing is my uneven desire. Sometimes, I’ll be gung-ho, guns blazing, and crank out two or three or four posts in a sitting, then do light editing over the next several days. (This often happens late at night, when I feel like I must capture words on (electronic) paper before I can sleep.)

But other times, I’ll go a couple weeks – or worse, months – without writing anything for me. It’s not that there’s nothing to write about. I’m constantly sending ideas to Evernote and adding to a note in my phone. Rather, I just feel very meh about the whole endeavor. Eventually I get over it, but it can be a hard funk to snap out of.

I think exercises like #Reverb10 will get me back in the habit of writing daily, no matter the topic, so it becomes just as part of my day that I no longer think about. I never think about brushing my teeth, or decide it can wait until the weekend or when I have more time. I just DO it. It’s not even on my to-do list.

Writing needs to become the same type of habit for me. While habit and routine can’t fuel true desire, they can carry you through the meh patches. Like winter in Chicago.

This post is part of #Reverb10, a month-long project to reflect on the year nearly gone. Read all my #Reverb10 posts, or learn more.

This morning, I saw a new hashtag in my Twitter feed: #reverb10. I clicked through and read PaigeWorthy’s fantastically eloquent post, and knew I wanted in.

Every year, as we hurtle into December, I start thinking about the year nearly gone, revisiting resolution lists and figuring out what I might still salvage. Typically, it’s three or four weeks into the new year before I feel adequately prepared to start fresh.

Reverb’s mission is “to reflect on your year and manifest what’s next.” I love the idea of a daily prompt to reflect on a given point. It will be a challenge to write daily, so some may be short, but it’s a more realistic goal for these harried times than NaNoWriMo (which I did in 2006 and 2008). Here we go!

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One Word

Today’s prompt, from Gwen Bell: Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?

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It’s tough to pick a single one to do justice to an entire year. That’s even more true in a year of so much turmoil and change. “Turmoil” implies bad, and this year was anything but. And the simplicity of “change” has been altered by the Obama phenomenon.

Maybe “more,” as that has become my reality? My life is fuller than it’s ever been, and throughout the year, I was asking for more. More responsibilities, more friends, more roles, more creative time and energy. And I got it.

In that same vein, “busy” might work, but again, it’s become an American cliché, a pat response when asked how things are going. “Busy” doesn’t really mean anything anymore if we’re all busy, all the time.

I like “ascending,” because it’s what I’ve been doing – moving on, moving up, both figuratively and literally, as I conquer my fear of running uphills.

But I think “awake” or “awakening” is most apt. 2010 is the year I really woke up to the reality that you only get what you ask for, what you push for, what you work for. And getting anywhere requires being awake, aware, alert and engaged.

So I woke up. I started running regularly and getting more sleep, eating better and really taking care of myself. While in 2009, I focused on losing weight and getting in shape, in 2010 I went further and really took control of my health and all that goes into it. And I’ve begun to find a balance I never knew I could have.

And despite the late nights of class and cramming more into my day than I ever thought possible, I am truly reaping the rewards. I am more engaged in my community and in my own life – and all because I woke up.

Sometimes I’m tired and weary and need the extra-large latte that makes me toss and turn when I know I need the sleep, but overall, it’s so worth it.

A year from now, with a whole year of this “new busy” under my belt, I hope to sum up 2011 with a word like “enthralled” or “mesmerized,” as I hope to be somewhat settled into the lifestyle to the point that I can really enjoy and embrace all I’m learning and doing. I never want to be “content” or “satisfied” because that would imply I can stop!

What word would you use to sum up your 2010? How do you hope to describe your 2011?