Imperviousness versus Strength

Foreword: I put this on entry ice after I wrote it because I am afraid that people in my life will take it personally when it's not meant that way.  I hate girl drama and I think it's immature and unacceptable to call anyone out in my blog.  While I am shy, I will buck up and voice my feelings when I feel someone is wronging me . . . just ask Klucker.  I wrote this on a day that I needed a pity party, but in accordance with my typical m.o. I sucked it up and dealt with it, only straying from my normal behavior by gorging on mozzarella sticks and diet coke at lunch.  So I fully admit that often times I'm at fault because I am a pleaser who won't tell people what I need or want.  Instead I'll smile and say "sure chocolate cake is fine" when I truly, truly prefer white.

I watch television.  And I like to watch television.  So everyone out there who thinks that means I'm weak-minded, lacking intellectual capability, or just plain fluffy can stop reading now.  I don't get to sit down and watch my favorite shows very often, so I am a frequent DVR user.  That also means I am weeks upon weeks behind in watching one of my favorite shows, one of which is Bones.  The episode I watched last night probably aired six to eight weeks ago.  In the closing scene, Booth and Brennan are talking about the possibility that they may eventually date.  Brennan tells Booth that she is becoming strong.  She goes on to say she used to be impervious, meaning she was unable to be hurt, but now she is becoming strong because she is losing her imperviousness.

The scene got me thinking about how we (the ubiquitous we) treat people.  Is strength sometimes confused for imperviousness?  I think about my relationships, what do I take for granted?  Do I extol bad behavior because I assume it doesn't bother the receiver?  Is that person really just incredibly strong, so they use resolve to power through the hurtfulness?

Several years ago I made a conscious decision to have more friends.  I was at a point in my life where I was a new mother, working 60-80 hours a week, and one crisis away from therapy and Zoloft.  I had (have) a supportive family, but sometimes a body just needs girlfriends.  As someone who is painfully shy--I know that's hard to believe--I put myself out there.  I interjected myself into uncomfortable situations and tried new things so that I could meet new people and hopefully make friends.  For the most part, my risks have paid off.  I can't say the trip has been tailwinds and sunshine the whole way.

A couple of months ago, a friend referred to me as a "bootstrap girl."  What she meant was that I'm someone who doesn't wallow in my problems, instead I pull myself up and attack them.  That can be a good or bad thing.  It's good in the fact that I get things accomplished.  I don't sit around and wait for three boats to rescue me while I sit on the roof of my flooded house; I build my own raft and set sail for dry ground.  One of the bad things though, I think, is that people around me don't realize how fragile I sometimes am.  They're unaware that my feelings are easily hurt when they don't return calls or emails.  They don't know that I need them to defend me when I'm attacked by mean girls.  They didn't see the stress I was under as I job-hunted and looked for ways to maintain my family's normalcy.  I think, to some degree, they think me impervious. 

While there are days I wish I was impervious, I think feeling sadness or stress or grief is good.  Without knowing how bad it can be, I would never enjoy the good times I typically have.  That being said, I sometimes long for acknowledgement that some days my life sucks too.  I sometimes need to have a pity party without feeling that someone is going to "one up" my tribulation.  I sometimes need chocolate chip cookie dough, a spoon, and a hug.

Class of '90 Together Again

How times have changed . . .1990 Prom, 2010 Class Reunion.

I had great ideas about this entry on Saturday night . . . of course I don't know how many of them would have actually been coherent had I sat down to write then. Not that I overindulged to the point of non-coherity, more that I had so much running through my mind that I don't think I could have followed a made it all flow smoothly.

I thought about starting several ways:

My name is Suzanne and I am a chubby. I've been thin for four years.

or

There is a sixth dimension beyond which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the sunlight of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area that might be called the Reunion Zone.

or

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

or

Digging up my senior yearbook and looking at the superlatives and see how accurate our naive predictions were.

In the light of Monday, none of those seem quite right though. I didn't know if I could hold the theme of any of them through the entire post. And my level of snarkiness has definitely receded. What I do know though, was that Saturday night we brought together over a third of the class of 1990, something that hasn't been done in 20 years. There were lots of laughs, lot of memories shared, and lots of missing those who didn't attend.

We had a five year reunion in the city park. I didn't attend. At the time, high school was too fresh, too close. While I had great times in high school, I won't ever tell you those were the best years of my life. Like I've said before, I was a big girl. I believe my prom dress was a 12 or 14. I was 20-25lbs heavier than I am now. And I was probably an inch shorter. My freshman year was horrific because I had a crush on a senior boy. His girlfriend and her friends bullied and terrorized me. My sophomore, junior, and senior years each got better, but I didn't enjoy life then nearly as much as I do now.

Since 1995, to my knowledge, no one has tried to put a reunion together for whatever reason. Last fall we went to Klucker's 20th reunion and it spurred me into action. I wasn't letting another year go by. I emailed, Facebooked, called, surveyed and tried to spur my class into action. I struggled to get people on board. All in all, I think we had six people, including me, attend our planning meetings. In the end, it was three of us who did the work. We graduated around 64, and had about 69 total in our class including those who dropped out or stayed an extra semester. We found all but four of them.

My prediction early on was that we would have 20 classmates attend, with guests, so a total of 40 people. I got worried when our RSVPs were slow to trickle in. The Friday before our deadline, we had four people attending. A few emails and Facebook posts spurred people to action. By Friday night, we knew there should be 24 alumnus attending.

Saturday night arrived and as I got to Tiny's, Kerri, Shelly, and Rob were walking up. I haven't seen Shelly and Rob since graduation. Shelly was glowing, she's in such a better spirit than I ever remembered seeing her. We got settled and set up and other started to arrive.

My beautiful besties . . . thankfully some things never change!

By evening's end, I believe there were 27 members of the class of 1990 in the room. I recognized most of them at first site, but for a few I needed to hear their voices. Time (and expensive skin creams, gyms and plastic surgery) has been kind to some of my classmates, and others have fought it tooth and nail. Regardless, the people in the room had, at one time, played a major role in my life.

The CHS Class of 1990. My how we've conquered the world!

It was interesting to see, as we sat down for dinner, how quickly old cliques reformed. Columbia has always been a cliquish community and even 20 years later, that had not changed. That being said, throughout the evening I think everyone spoke to everyone. Old grudges were pushed aside as we got reacquainted.

I was amazed as reminsced. There were so many memories I had forgotten and perceptions of events that were very different from mine. I realized many things to which I had apparently been oblivious. I pondered the effect time has on our minds.

This morning we sent out a feedback form to see what others though of the event. I am interested to see if my perception of the evening matches other's. The question that most intrigues me is why people chose to attend or not to attend. Twenty years out from high schoo, things have changed for many of us. We've started and ended relationships and carrers, have families and lives outside of what consumed us at CHS. One of my co-conspirators for the event remarked that he thought a good number of people would attend to "show-off" what they had become, and others would not attend because of where they are in the lives. He's probably on track there. I think there is a bit of curiousity involved as well--like eavesdropping on a conversation. People came to see what happened to their classmates. Is his life still a train wreck? Did she gain weight? I'm surprised he graduated, much less got a job. Ah, human nature.

I can say there were no huge surprises for me. It was fascinating to see how time had cemented personality traits. Those quirks that were there at 16 because full blown qualities at 26 (ok, 37 you caught my math). In high school, the circumstances of being stuck together in a small school forced friendships. Many of them developed because of the situation, I was amazed to see how many of those relationships had withstood the test of time.

I don't miss high school. I don't want to go back and do it all over again knowing what I know now. I don't regret high school either. High school and all of the fun, traumatic, goofy, gory, amazing things that went with it gave me a set of experiences and skills that set events in motion that got me where I am now. High school gave me some amazing friends who are still vital parts of my life. As S.E. Hinton (one of my favorite authors from that era in my life) said, "If you have two friends in your lifetime, you're lucky. If you have one good friend, you're more than lucky." Saturday night reminded me I'm much more than lucky.

The MS150 Redux

The MSRide and I have some history. We have an on-again/off-again relationship that is tenuous at best. I rode my first MS150 in 2004. That year, it was a fairly last minute decision and my team was made up of Klucker and me. I remember struggling through the hills on the second day, not knowing if I could make it. I rode again in 2005, in better shape, but seven weeks pregnant with my angel baby. On day two that year, I puked at the first three rest stops and cried at one as well. I persevered and made it. 2006 saw me seven months pregnant and making PBJ sandwiches at a rest stop. I definitely preferred riding. I returned to riding it in 2007, with little training. I wrenched my knee 40 miles in and sagged back to the start. Since 2007, I scoffed at any suggestion I attempt such foolishness. First, I hate asking people for money. Oh, I typically donate to everyone who asks, but I'm not asking. And second, I really never got into the whole party on a bike atmosphere with thousands of people I don't know.

This biking season arrived and so did the talk of the MSRides. My compadre Steph was leading a group of women to the Memphis edition of the ride. Liz was recruiting for the Gateway MS. I wondered if they had lost their minds. I was racing PICX and E'ville that weekend. To heck with their silliness.

Then July stretched into August and the state crit was a disappointment to me. Racing was wearing me ragged. I need something fun to do. And we ordered a few too many pitchers of gatorade at TQs one night. Never say never because I registered for the Gateway MSRide and sent requests for money out to folks. The salted glass gets me every time. At least I didn't agree to camp.

I won't give a blow by blow of the weekend and the riding like I do in most of my race reports, but I will share my insights about my riding.

I am a group ride snob. There are certain pieces of etiquette one must follow when riding with more than one other person. Communication being the most important one. Let me know where you're going if you're not going to ride in a straight line parallel to the side of the road. And don't ride more than two abreast...that doesn't mean one at the white and one at the yellow. Oh, and if you're stopping suddenly, please tell me. The other one is take your turn at the front. The wind is a b!+ch, don't make me fight it the whole day. I love my Saturday Big Shark and Hub rides, these are never issues there. It's organized, everyone knows what to expect and what to do. It's full of peace, harmony, and hand signals.

As a new cyclist, I hated hills. I would see one looming before me and feel the panic attack start. I had an innate fear of not being able to turn over the pedals. I thought I would get part way up, freeze, and fall over. I've learned how to appreciate hills. I have the skills to attack them and the outlook that I will conquer them. My next loathing became the wind. At least with the hills, there was an end in sight and a respite on the descent. The wind is a relentless adversary. But the more I've ridden in windy conditions, the more I've resigned myself not to fight. I don't like the wind, but I can't do anything about it. I just hunker down and spin. This weekend I elevated something else to the top of my demon list--bad pavement. Those quaint Amish or Mennonite horse and buggies have chewed the pavement like a mouse chews old newspaper. Chip and seal sucks, but Boone County needs to invest in something. I swore the welds on my frame were going to come undone on some of those stretches.

This summer has given me a lot of insight into group dynamics, and the MS ride provided more action research material for me. I have learned a lot about the way one or two changes in a group of people can really make a difference in the way a group behaves, whether those are additions or subtractions. I like to watch the different ways people conduct themselves in the presence or absence of others. I know I fall victim to this, and was a lot more subdued on Saturday night than I have been in other situations. It intrigues me to see the different sides that people have. It was fascinating to watch the interactions between people the longer we were together. It definitely led me to new hypotheses. My predictions are getting better with time, and as I become a more skillful observer (and learn to be silent, like the ever watchful sphinx, at the right moment).

In that same spirit of being a lifelong learner, I learned a new word a few weeks ago, pathlete. Someone had thrown it out on stlbiking, and I had to Google it. Over the weekend, I was exposed to quite a few of these folks--goes back to me being a group ride snob. One of the most impressive ones who zoomed past us in his capped-sleeve, baggy t-shirt, with arm warmers that sagging. I wouldn't have given much thought to him, except for we all stopped at a rest stop. Our group didn't stay long and was regrouping to hit the road when I heard him say, "If I hurry, I'll catch you again." I'm not sure what the payout was for the MS, but it must have been sweet because this guy chased us down and crossed the yellow to make sure he was ahead. Really, if you have that much of a need to show your stuff, TNWs are only $10/week. You can do the whole series for you fundraised for this weekend...and you may learn to hold a line to boot.

My first MS rides were filled with the mantra, "Only 10 miles between rest stops. You can ride for 10 more miles." The longest stretch I would do was from the start to rest stop 2 because I quickly learned that stopping at the first one was a clear sign of a love of chaos. I go out on my long rides, 3.5 or 4 hours, and only stop if I need water. Very rarely do I get off, walk around and spend time socializing with the riders I'm with until after we're all finished. But those rest stops are inviting: orange wedges, peanut butter/ jelly grahams, homemade ice cream and pies. I found myself having to practice restraint to not veer to the right, their tawdry draw. I say this, because I know the longer I spend off the bike, the harder it is to get going again. My legs tighten, my resolve waivers. They are so appealing, yet so, so bad. When I got home and looked up the calories (290) on one of those amazing peanut butter/jelly grahams and that bolstered my view on the maliciousness of those sinful oases.

All playing aside, the weekend was good for me. I began the weekend with some guilt about not racing Saturday and Sunday, because after all I am a wanna-be bike racer. That was juxtapositioned with a tiredness and sullen nature about racing in general. Sunday morning as I got ready, I had a momentary thought about texting Ryan and telling him to ride on his own because I was going to E'ville. (I did have a racing kit with me just in case.) I'm glad I didn't. It was relaxing and undemanding. It gave me a chance to ride how I wanted, not how I needed to in order to prepare for the next event on my schedule. More than anything, it was as much a mental training ride as a physical endeavor: well-needed, well-executed, valuable.

Taking Time to Enjoy the Ride

I'm a goal-oriented person. I decide what I want, I plan backwards and strategize and plot a course of action as to how to obtain my goal. I make sure I have short term benchmarks to stay on track and I adjust if necessary. This process typically has served me well both personally and professionally. There's very little I can't do if I set my mind to it.

Lately, I've been plagued by something though. I am typically in such a hurry to reach my goal (after all, good SMART goals are time bound) I don't enjoy my journey and reaching my short term strategies. And I think it's taking some of the fun of grabbing the silver ring.

I'll give you a cycling related example (big surprise!). As I've said before, I've been extremely focused on two goals this season, the state crit and MOBAR. I made a plan in December about what I would do to accomplish these goals. I rode my bike in nasty, cold weather. I rode in rain and wind. I spent hours on the trainer. I suffered through heat. I followed my workouts doing intervals and long rides. The state race came and I almost got it. My plan was sound, my own execution error is what's to blame. I was extremely disappointed. And trust me when I say I don't handle disappointment well.

I'm a professional developer, and I work extensively with adult learners, so I know and believe what Art Costa says about adults learning best through reflection. I love Jack Mezirow's (Columbia University) quote "A defining condition of being a human being is that we have to understand the meaning of our experience." Since April, I've been using my Monday morning runs and my blogs as my means of reflection. I critique my racing--fitness, strategy, and execution--and use the insights to help me get better, stronger, faster. Steve Austin watch out! I ran this past Monday morning and reflected. I pinpointed my strengths and weaknesses from the two races, but I still didn't feel much better about it. I didn't reach my goal. There was, is nothing I can do about it but try again next year. It wasn't until this morning that my thoughts changed.

One of the things that has been significantly different for me and my training over the past nine months is that I frequently ride with a group. My Saturday custom, when we don't have a race, has become for the women racers to head together. The Hub ride is the normal choice and we ebb and flow with our numbers. We ride, try to hold on with the boys through at least Geyer, and then settle in and spin together. We have breakfast, we ride more. It's a lot of fun. I have spent endless hours with Steph, Kate and Alice on these trips and never come away in a bad mood. I have a weeknight tradition as well--I spend an evening spinning and playing with my favorite tris. (That one is really amazing because I typically lament about multi-sporters poor handling skills!)

As I clicked in this morning, I realized that the fun of this bike season has been my journey: my hours with my friends, the epic, silly situations we create, the strange things we see and odd conversations we have. I missed my goal but I have gained so much more. You see, these three women, along with a whole lot more, have become my friends. They're my teammates on a different team. They're a big reason for my addiction to the bike. I've gotten so caught up in pursuit and achievement that I didn't truly appreciate the race I was winning all along.

I've set a new goal for myself. This one will be a truly long range achievement. My new goal is to enjoy my journey. I want to take time to notice how wonderful the short term strategies are and not miss out on the happiness they bring me.

And They Lived Happily Ever After

I've been thinking a lot about relationships. Several people close to me have been struggling and as I listen and try to coach them, it's caused me to reflect on my belief system. What is happily ever after? Why do some relationships make it and others fail?

I'm a mixture of an idealist and realist. I grew up believing in the fairy tale and happily ever after. Juxtapose that against my real life and parent who didn't get along. There were many times I wished they would divorce so life would be simpler. Sprinkle those pieces with my mother who filled my head that successful=married. I know, I'm a psychologist’s cash cow with all my issues! I won't turn this into a biographical essay regarding my relationship mistakes, but I do need to process my thoughts on how it all fits together.

Relationships are hard work. Fairy tales always end with the kiss or the wedding and the "and they lived happily ever after" line. Really? How did Snow White react when her prince was supposed to be home before 3 and got there at 4:45? What did she do when he repeatedly left dirty dishes in the sink? What Prince Charming did think when Cinderella worked late three times last week? And then fell asleep on the couch and didn't want to have sex? The rush you feel at the beginning of the relationship fades quickly and it takes hard work, flexibility, compassion and out and out desire for a relationship to last--from both of you. One person can't keep it going.

I've also learned that I would rather be happy and alone than miserable and with someone. Even though I can now say my parents were right about many things, my mother was dead wrong on her thoughts on marriage and men. I don't need a man in my life to have a great ring on my finger. I'll buy the damn 2 carat diamond of my dreams myself. Heck, K was too poor when we got engaged to even get anything close to the bling I wanted. And now if I'm getting a piece of carbon, screw the diamond. I want a fabulous frame or component. I alone am responsible for my happiness. I cannot control someone else. But I can control someone's role in my life. And if that person being in my life makes me unhappy, he needs to go. I have been very clear, maybe even a little brutal--he is in my life because I want him there, not because I need him. For me, it makes both of us work harder at being a good partner. Because if that want ever goes, I will pack his bags--been down that road once already.

It is at the core of my person that your partner be in your life because of want, not need. (Neediness is unattractive to me.) But, the realist in me comes out when I say that it is impossible and unfair to expect your partner to be your everything. No matter how much you love someone, are in love with someone, he or she cannot fulfill every need you have. The trick is how to get those needs fulfilled and that, to me, is how many relationships get in trouble. A friend of mine recently said, "There is nothing wrong with whetting your appetite somewhere else, as long as you come home to have dinner." To me that is a great metaphor. You may have a girlfriend with whom you dish about the latest gossip. You may have a co-worker who shares your love for sushi or great coffee. You may have a guy on your weekly group ride with whom you flirt shamelessly. That's all ok. And I know there are folks out there who seek other outside fulfillment and still can manage to have something left for whoever is at home. (I'm inclined to reserve judgments). My point is, if you want to have a long lasting relationship, celebrate a 50 year anniversary, you have to take the blinders off and take care of yourself. Someone who is unhappy with herself can never be truly happy in a relationship.

I can respect that people will disagree with me. I do wish fairy tales were true. But the realist in me knows that if I want glass slippers, I better be searching out that perfect pair of Manolo's or Jimmy Choo's and be prepared to lay down my own platinum card. We each have to live our own truths, as colored by our own experiences. And more than that, we each have to be able to sleep at night, knowing what we know.