Walking on Ice

Here we are as close to the holiday season as we can get without already being stuck in the up-and-down-ness of winter blues, gray skies, and knee deep mud. Unfortunately, we’ve already met Mr. I-don’t-like-the-cold, Mrs. The-skies-are-still-gray, and their daughter Ms. I-wish-I-was-still-on-vacation. And instead of mud, they’ve brought ice with them. I don’t remember there being as much ice last year though. I’ve already fallen three times on the ice and yesterday I stood in the middle of the frozen road because every step was ice skating. I was 1) too scared to move seeing as I already have a 4” diameter bruise on my leg and 2) hoping the boys who were sliding around would leave and grant me the honor of falling in privacy. They didn’t leave. But my director called, giving me a reprieve from decision making and a reason to stay put for the duration of our conversation. She brought good news: I would still be able to leave in January for the marathon though it conflicted with a program conference. But once the conversation was over I had to get back to the business of walking on ice.

I never thought I’d say this….but I’d prefer the mud…even the slippery, you-think-you’re-going-to-fall-with-every-step, so-ubiquitous-that-there’s-no-way-around-it, everything-is-covered-and-clothes-are-ruined type of mud. But the anger at risking falling in mud is nowhere as nerve-wracking as not being able to put a single foot down because each step slides underneath you and your aching knee is too stiff (or sore or temperamental) to help you stay up. (Mommy, I have a new found empathy for what I used to think was just your humorous clumsiness. My apologies.)

Yesterday, after my run, I tried to take a bath. A real bath. I heated up what I thought would be enough water to fill the tub once I mixed it with an equal amount of cool water. It wasn’t enough, but I sat in the water and poured it over myself anyway. Either way, I had used up all the buckets of water in the house, and, trying to be a thoughtful host daughter, I decided that I would go to the well to refill at least one of the two buckets. First mistake: I didn’t wear gloves and the handle of the well was solid ice. Second mistake: I wore slippers. Don’t ask me why, but I did. Though my only other pair of possibly appropriate shoes was the same Nikes I was wearing when I was skating to work, frozen in indecisiveness in the middle of the road. I filled up the bucket and made my way slowly back to the house until, just in front of the house, the slightest of inclines brought me down, spilling all of the cold water I had just filled. I could’ve gone back and tried again, but I didn’t. I settled with a half-hearted attempt at being responsible and thoughtful only to find that as I left to work I also left the door unlocked.

But while I grumble at the cold and curse the ice, I don’t feel nearly as gloomy this December. I’m more homesick for holiday traditions, but not as depressed. It’s an odd balance. Part of my sanity is most likely due to three things: a semi-regular schedule, having people I enjoy talking/brainstorming with, and running. I’ll take them apart: the semi-regular schedule is only possible because of the new arrangement made after last month’s conflict, so for this, I’m grateful; the people I talk with has helped salvage my idealism and optimism in being able to accomplish something during my time here; both the schedule and the people have led to a feeling of regular productivity – or at least the hope of it; the marathon, though proving more painful than I imagined, has kept me more active, as was the intention.

We volunteers have set out across seas toward adventures that we knew would be “challenging and rewarding” but we could not have guessed what the challenges or rewards would be. The beauty though, is that this has been the reoccurring case with all expectations I’ve been setting thus far. It does not only refer to my service itself, but also the individual goals and ideas. We didn’t expect that moral dilemmas, persevering through boredom, and resisting a pessimistic outlook would be some of the major challenges. I know that I didn’t expect to tire so quickly of boiling water and washing my clothes by hand. I thought the adaptation would only become more established, not that it would drop after its peak.

I knew that training during the winter would be a pain in the butt and that I would need major moments of self-motivation and discipline to keep myself going (and wasn’t that the goal?); however, with about 5 weeks left until warm-weather running, I’m realizing that the challenge is greater than just wind and rain. I’ve tried to be honest with myself. I’ve tried to keep to a regime that would be realistic and still allow for community involvement (and marathon completion). (And when you have to heat your own water, an hour run turns into a three-hour process.) I’ve also tried to be realistic about my expectations while simultaneously recognizing pains and balancing the need for pushing through them and holding back. My goal for the race has changed three times over and each adjustment is an inner struggle to discern between laziness and realities. While the right knee is more upset during these iced-road runs, I have to remind myself that this was the exact same pattern in Sunny California: knee in the beginning, shin splints in the middle, knee at the end…only more exaggerated. Last time the knee kept me off the road for 4 weeks before the race. I used bikes and stationary exercises instead. But that’s not an option right now. But the clincher is that I don’t remember my everyday walking being affected. Do I stretch enough? Surely not. Have I been strengthening my calves enough? No.

But this training – getting outside, staying active, having a goal – was supposed to help reduce stress and stabilize my winter emotional-ness. It wasn’t supposed to add to pressure, worry, and pain. And yet, wholeheartedly, deep down in the heart of the matter, I know that this surprise challenge will make it all even more worth while. And that is one of the reasons why I’ve no doubt that I will get through this, that I will finish and that I will have a much better winter – both than last winter and than would’ve been possible otherwise.

I’ve also re-acknowledged my frustration with people who are supposed to represent me. Yes, frustration with people we are conflicting with is a continual aggravation regardless of the person, but frustration with those who are supposed to represent us is even more deep-rooted. When someone tarnishes something that I’ve been working on, I am more angry than discouraged, especially when they ruin the effectiveness of a whole, well-intentioned group. This isn’t a new realization. Just rare enough for me to need to comment each time.

But here is a wish for all of you: that whatever surprises have come your way, that you have the love of those around you to help see them through. I’ve been blessed enough to have enough clear days to run, to have enough people to talk with, and to have enough coal to keep the fire warm this winter. I hope that each of you has something for which you are grateful this holiday season and that you have others to share it with.