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| Visual representation of disgruntled self |
I was late to meet my friend for the morning run, forgot to pack undergarments with my change of clothes for work, and found myself stuck behind the train tracks for fifteen minutes en route to a meeting. I thought to myself: I can’t catch a break. This tardiness and chaos had been a regrettable trend over the last couple of weeks. Whether you are someone who diligently reads your daily horoscope or someone who thinks astrology is a total hoax, the “Astrology World” says that Mercury was in retrograde from January 21st to February 11th. To be honest, I thought the person informing me of this astrological phenomenon was a bit nuts; I’d not been one to give much credence to the alignment of stars, moons, or any other celestial bodies. But I researched further and discovered that all retrogrades this year are in air signs, Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini (including yours truly). Double whammy. Mercury, the messenger god, controls time and technology. Therefore, when Mercury goes wacky, the results are tardiness and technological breakdowns. Great. So, I have how many days left before I can get my life back in order?
There were two ways to approach this period. One, which was my initial reaction, was panic and frustration. I felt I was at the mercy of some hot-headed planet, watching my usual punctuality and trusty iPhone go haywire. Or, I decided, I could pause and catch up with myself. I could use this time of flurry as an opportunity to regain perspective.
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800s with teammates Carrie Dimoff and Lindsey Drake
with coordinated neon sports bras |
At age 23 and creeping up on 24, I often feel like life can spin past me. I find myself rushing from run to car for a quick change of clothes sans shower, scarfing down my yogurt breakfast, and hustling into work with my post-run-braid to continue the high-tempo pace of making cocktails, taking food orders, and delivering mouth-watering Korean pork sandwiches. I think sometimes I forget to even breathe, like those deep full-belly inhale and exhale sort of breaths. But, pause, I must. I must stop and look at myself. I am 23 and creeping up on 24, and I am living the dream. Within even the first five months of my life in Portland, I have established a sense of community. I can go out for a run on the Southeast Waterfront and hear “Mickle!” and turn to find fellow Masters teammate riding up alongside on his bike as we both cross the Hawthorne Bridge. I receive congratulatory text messages about races I run hundreds of miles away from friends back in Portland. I come home to a roommate who surprises me with folded laundry and fully stocked dark chocolate. I have put myself in a place where I can pursue my dream: be happy, have a support network, and chase after my running aspirations. With the highs and lows of training, races, career hiccups, I have a foundation.
Mercury, as much as I felt like you were playing a mean joke on me, I thank you.
On a running related note, I am looking forward to hopping back on the roads this March at the US 15K Championships in Florida and then returning to my favorite oval shaped playground, the track. Enjoying and thankful for these opportunities, eager for improvement, but also keeping my man Apollo in mind:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Jg682PxJmk
