Tudor Robins's Blog, page 16

What Next?

“Questioned Proposal” – a Creative Commons image taken by Ethan Lofton – www.flickr.com/photos/eleaf/

Just wondering what I should blog about next? Anyone have a question / thought / topic they’d like to throw out?

I’m all ears!

It was awesome!

Back in March I wrote about my plans to run the Ottawa Race Weekend 10K, and my hope that I could come in with a sub-50-minute time.

I DID IT!

And it was fun. Fun, fun, fun.

It was, bar none, the most fun 10K I have ever run in my life.

I had wings! In fact, for the first 8K I was actually worried. This is too easy, I thought. What if I finish and it still feels too easy, and then I’ll be afraid I didn’t give it my all?

Don’t worry.

I did, indeed, hit the proverbial wall. Or, in this case, the Pretoria Bridge. I had stopped having much fun by the time the course took us across the canal over the Pretoria Bridge. But by then I knew I could do it. Knew it was just about one-and-a-half kilometres to the finish. Reasoned anybody can do anything for 1,500 metres if they really have to.

So, my stats (these are good for me – not good for super-serious runners, but good for me). I finished in 47:40. Yay! Well below 50:00. I ran the second 5K faster than the first 5K. I was about 1,300th out of 13,125 runners at the 5K mark and, by the end I finished in 1,030 overall. So I passed nearly 300 people in the second 5K (it didn’t feel like it). I ended up 18th out of 1225 people in my category (age, gender). So, it was awesome!

I ran the 5K race at 4:00 p.m. with my eleven-year-old and that was eye-opening for me. For anyone who hasn’t run a big road race, you start in corrals, correlated to your expected finish time. Since it was my son’s first 5K I had registered us in the second-last corral. This meant we were about three-quarters of the way back in a field of 10,700 people. The race goes off in waves – every two minutes – so we didn’t cross the start line until 4:20 p.m. The winners were finishing as we were starting!

There was lots of hustle and bustle and many bodies, but my son did so well. He kept his cool, ran the whole way, passed people the entire time, and finished in just over thirty minutes. I just ran behind him and kept an eye on him. He definitely earned his medal.

Then, my family went home for dinner and I stayed downtown and got in my corral for the 10K race at 6:30 p.m. Even though this race was bigger, I started at the very front so it felt much smaller to me. I went in the second wave to cross the start line. It was a completely different experience.

Both were great. Both were fun. The 10K is my personal favourite, but the 5K taught my son so much.

If you’re thinking of running a race, I highly recommend Ottawa Race Weekend. There’s truly something for everyone, from the 2K to the Marathon. The course is beautiful – spectacular even – set, as it is in Ottawa’s beautiful neighbourhoods and along the Ottawa River and the Rideau Canal (a Unesco World Heritage site). The spectators are vocal and encouraging, and the signs are funny. Some I remember:

– “Smile if you’re not wearing underwear.”

– “Your butt hurts because you’re kicking ass.”

– “This is a lot of work for a free banana.”

My son loved the signs and he loved his free banana. In fact, walking through the recovery area, helping himself to free food, his eyes were huge. I chafed at the wait to file out of the recovery pen while he gnawed on a bagel and said, “This isn’t so bad …”

Seriously, there aren’t many competitions your average person can just decide to enter, but running races are an exception. You pay your entry fee, do some training (hopefully), show up on the day, and get treated like a hero.

It’s good and it’s fun.

After my 10K I walked through the quiet downtown streets heading for our pre-arranged pick-up area. I was wearing my medal, my racing bib, and a huge smile.

I told a friend I was the happiest person in Ottawa. I think it was probably true … it’s a feeling to hold onto.

Breathe …

It’s a word that keeps coming up in my life this year. In fact, in some ways, it could be the word of my year. Breathe …

I have it repeated to me over, and over again every Wednesday evening during my Total Body Stretch class. And I embrace it there because I haven’t been in physiotheraphy since I started taking that class. I feel taller, I feel better, and I hurt less. So, when the instructor says to breathe … I do!

Breathing came up in the things I did that were out of my comfort zone this year as well. Recording the Appaloosa Summer podcast was all about the breathing. During my first session on the recording studio, I’d finish a couple of pages gasping for air. By the end, I could read an entire chapter, take a tiny break to let the recording engineer tidy up a couple of things on the file, and start reading again. Easy!

In the studio it was all about forgetting about my breathing – just letting it happen. We all do it, so it’s OK if podcast listeners know I’m breathing – it would be much more worrying if I wasn’t!

Recently I had a new author photo taken. This was also way, way out of my comfort zone. I strongly dislike having my picture taken, especially when it’s important. For the first time, I actually shared this information with my wonderful photographer and guess what she told me? You got it – breathe. What a concept. I came away with over a hundred photos I like, and several I really like … just because I breathed when they were taken!

I was breathing in this photo!

Still breathing here!

Maybe the most important time to breathe is when I’m riding. This is something I learned a while ago from a coach I rode with a couple of times. You know when your horse does those big, noisy, lip-flapping, exhales? Do one too. Right back at them. People watching might think you’re crazy, but it’s literally impossible to hold onto tension when you’re exhaling through your lips like that. Try it!

I also think it’s kind of polite – it’s a communication with your horse – he’s saying “I’m settling in, I’m relaxing,” and you’re saying “Thanks. I think I will, too.” It always works for me.

People who’ve followed my blog for a while know I’m currently riding a huge, handsome, handful of an off-the-track-thoroughbred. He’s fast, he’s strong, and he’s energetic. My biggest tool to keep him under control isn’t my hands, or my seat, or my legs – it’s my breath. If I keep breathing – if I stay relaxed – if I focus on calm rhythm, then everything else falls into place. I use the right weight of hand and leg. He responds. We’re OK.

The surest way to get him wound, is for me to get wound. And, after that, it’s no contest. He’s ten times my weight and strength, and if he wants to muscle through me, he will.

So I use my usual mental checklist on him – of course I do – heels down? Leg on? Straight line from elbows to bit? Light contact – half-halt when needed? Yes, yes, yes, but between each of those is breathe. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I can’t really think of a situation when breathing is bad so, even though I’m not a doctor, or any kind of medical professional at all, I’m going to go ahead and recommend that you remember to breathe …

Does this make you think of any stories you’d like to share? I love hearing them!

Ana and Me – My Anorexic Story

This is a picture of a girl who thinks she’s fat.

I knew I’d write this post sometime, but I figured it would be for a reason – an event. Like National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, or something like that.

But, I’ve been looking through old family photos and they tell a story, so I thought I’d tell you this story.

So, “Ana.” If you’re not familiar with it, Ana is a term many anorexics use to refer to their anorexia. I wasn’t aware of this when I first stopped eating. I was about ten years old, and pretty sheltered – I attended a private girls’ school – and there was no internet, so I had no idea of the existence of Ana.

However, the first time I heard the term Ana, later in life, I thought yeah, that makes sense. Because anorexia is a presence in the life of people living with it. And, I guess you can say that of anything. Like cancer is a presence in the life of people living with it, but anorexics kind of like anorexia.

I think this was just before I decided I was fat. So, in this picture, I’m OK with myself. Not worrying about what I’ll eat next. Ready to have an ice cream cone if I swim into the dock and somebody hands me one.

This will probably sound weird to those who have never been anorexic, but bear with me. When you have it, anorexia is with you all the time. It’s distracting, comforting. It gives order and structure to your life. It eliminates questions and uncertainty. It’s your constant companion. So, the fact it has a person’s name – Ana – makes sense.

*Note: Yes, the above paragraph may sound like I’m putting a positive spin on anorexia. There’s no doubt that overall, anorexia spirals your life out of control, and takes away control and comfort. But to the person in the middle of it, day-to-day, what I’ve written above feels true. I don’t think there’s any point denying it, because without acknowledging this, it’s pretty hard to understand how an anorexic thinks and why that person often doesn’t want to get better.*

Below is a passage from Objects in Mirror. It’s written from my experience, and I believe it to be true:

“I don’t want to give it up. The words sear through me, tumbling my emotions, bringing tears dangerously close to the surface. Despite the hunger, despite the worry on Annabelle’s face, despite here, now, nearly fainting in the sand ring, my disorder – if that’s what I have to call it – has given me so much. Structure, goals, regular small achievements. It’s shown those who judge me – Drew, my dad – I can accomplish anything I set my mind to.”

So, in the previous picture I didn’t think I was fat, but by now – when this one was taken – I definitely did think so. Which just shows the lack of logic in anorexia. This girl, with those bony knees, probably hated having this picture taken because she knew she’d look fat in it …

Anyway, so Ana and me.

It started when I was about ten. Why? Well, if I could tell you why, I could put an end to anorexia. Because, the thing is, I don’t think anyone can say conclusively why. What I am fairly sure of, is there’s a wicked combination of physical, mental, emotional, and societal factors all swirling together when someone’s in the grips of anorexia.

You don’t eat enough, so you can’t think straight. You can’t think straight, so you upset everyone around you. You’re upsetting everyone around you, so you have tonnes of emotional issues. You’re overwhelmed, so there’s no way you’re going to eat …

Anorexia is all-consuming. And, in that way, I can only imagine it’s equal parts extremely boring, and completely terrifying to those who live with, and love, the anorexic person. Those with anorexia are totally self-absorbed (or Ana-absorbed) – which is so off-putting, but they might die – which is horrible.

So, for quite a while I ate less and less, and got skinnier and skinnier, while feeling worse and worse about myself. And, yes, as you would expect there were threats to stop my riding. It was a logical thing to threaten me with since it was really all I cared about, other than (not) eating.

I didn’t really believe I’d have to stop riding until the next threat came, and it was hospitalization. Which, of course, would make it hard to ride. So, I started eating again.

This was me climbing back out the other side. Starting to eat again so I wouldn’t have to stop riding.

Of course, there was more to it than the simple threat of being put in the hospital. Anorexia is exhausting. I was really, really tired. The amount of willpower needed, over a very long stretch of time, is difficult to understand. I was hungry almost all the time. Deeply, grindingly hungry. And being that hungry, I had to keep up my resolve to turn down food, and to fight everyone around me who wanted me to eat.

The hospital thing was probably an out I could take semi-graciously. “I have to start eating again, so I guess I will.”

That wasn’t the end. I regained health and strength at about age twelve, but nothing had really been resolved. So, yes, Ana came back to me at university when – let’s face it – many of us lead weirdly social-but-not-intimate lives. We see lots of people every day, but don’t always connect with even one of them. Anorexia came right back and gave me structure and support again … but that was later … for another post, maybe. The good news is, the fix that time stuck much better.

I’ll leave you with a picture of me after I was back to my ideal weight. I look at all these photos now – and the many, many ones I haven’t included, and I can see, of course I looked terrible when I was skin and bones, and of course I was perfectly pretty when I wasn’t skin and bones. But there’s no perspective in anorexia – it’s one thing you really, really lose. The perspective to see yourself as a whole. The perspective to look past your next meal.

Me, healthy again.

I don’t know if anything I’ve written here makes sense to anyone. Anorexia is very personal, so my experience is not anybody else’s experience. However, maybe one or two things about my experience will ring true to somebody else.

My main message – my message in Objects in Mirror – and my message today is that, yes, anorexia is serious, and scary, and not to be taken lightly, but there is hope. I am healthy now. I’ve been healthy for a long time. And battling those body image, and control, and perspective demons long ago, has helped shape who I am now.

So, if you’re going through this, or you know somebody who is, well, it’s hard, but there is hope.

The “Go” Button

 

“Go Button” – a Creative Commons image by Got Credit – www.gotcredit.com

young hung boy cock

I was reading a post on thoroughbreds, and why some people like them, and some don’t, and somebody mentioned the “Go” Button and I thought, Yup, that’s why I love thoroughbreds.

If they’re “goey,” if they “have an engine,” if they’ve “got a motor,” they’re my kind of horse.

* Important Public Service Announcement: I think it’s a sweeping generalization to say all thoroughbreds are goey and high-strung. They aren’t. In my experience, all thoroughbreds are loving, most are incredibly intelligent, and many are actually very lazy. Don’t overlook a thoroughbred because you think they’re too fast. *

OK, back to my preference, which is for a horse who wants to move. To run. To jump. To go fast, even if it’s nowhere in particular.

I love a horse who knows the meaning of the word “go.” If all you have to do is lean forward a bit, soften your hands slightly, whisper “go” (or even just think it), and they’re off, that’s my kind of horse.

It fits my personality, too. I’ve often been told (not always in flattering terms) that I never slow down. That works for me. I like to move, and do. It’s why I solve problems while I run. I’m a goer.

The funny thing is, when I’m on a horse with his own engine, the world slows down for me. It’s one of the only times it does. I relax, and become patient, and speak softly. It’s good for me, and it’s good for the horse.

Which is my point about the go button, and having it, or not – it doesn’t really matter. The beautiful thing about riding as a sport is that there are two personalities at play. You may be a goey person who’s great at getting a lazy horse to go. I ride with a woman like that and I have the utmost respect for her. I cannot believe what she gets her very placid horses to do. And she makes it look easy in the process.

If that were me, both horse and rider would end up sweaty and frustrated, and not having moved very far, or very fast.

It’s all good … that’s the point. There’s a horse out there for every rider, and a rider out there for every horse.

What kind of horse do you like? Does your horse match your personality, or provide contrast?

Therapeutic Riding

I’d like to introduce you to Weather. What’s special about Weather? Not her breeding – she’s some kind of Heinz 57 with a definite splash of draft horse. Not her performance, which is classic school horse – “I will do the bare minimum required to get through this ride.” Not her turn-out – not right now anyway since, like so many other Eastern Ontario horses at this point in the spring, she’s still holding onto half her winter coat.

She’s quite a pretty colour and, looking at her here, I think her ears have a nice shape … but those aren’t what makes Weather special.

What makes Weather special is that a few times every week she’s a therapeutic riding horse and she does a darn good job of it.

Therapeutic riding benefits people with mental, physical, and social development challenges. If you’d like to know more about it, you can always visit the website of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association. If you’re not a link-clicker, here are the benefits they list on their site:

Development of mobility, balance and co-ordination
Improvement of muscle tone and strength
Increased concentration and improved learning skills
A challenging recreational activity
Independence, integration and a sense of achievement
Development of self confidence and motivation

I’m lucky to be able to volunteer* in a therapeutic riding program run in the spring and fall at a friend’s stable and I can vouch for all of the above. There’s also something not listed there. It’s friendship. The program participants become friends with their horses, and they also become friends with the volunteers. We chit-chat about their days, their lives, and what they’ve been doing since we last saw each other.

We connect as riders. When I left yesterday there were hugs all around. It was awesome.

And, to make it happen, we need horses we can rely on. Like Weather, who’s strong, and quiet, and nice to sit on, and gives her riders the chance to do something many able-bodied, non-challenged people aren’t able to do. They can ride a horse! How great is that?

This is Brooke, who is also used in the therapeutic program. She has a kind face, and she’s just as kind as she looks. She carries her riders safely and securely.

I firmly believe horses are good for all people, and I know horses are great for people facing extra challenges. Each therapeutic session involves lots of laughing, lots of talking, sometimes overcoming of fears, and physically, you can see each rider walking taller and more easily after being on horseback.

And the horses? Well, they’re great, and they’re treated very well. Lots of grooming, lots of patting, lots of love. A warm, dry barn, a cool drink after their ride.

Programs like this are truly win-win-wins. The participants benefit, the horses are useful and well looked after, and the volunteers like me get so much out of it.

Are you familiar with therapeutic riding? Do you have any questions? Let me know!

*In case you’re interested in volunteering in a program like this, there are lots of ways to do so. Volunteers are needed to help groom, and tack up horses. Volunteers lead the horses, and some “sidewalk” – walking alongside the participants while they’re on horseback in case they should need a steadying hand. It’s great to know about horses – I always end up talking to participants about the parts of the horse, and different types of horse theory – but you don’t have to. If you can walk, and you like people and animals, it’s a great volunteer job!

(Re) Scheduling

Creative Commons image “Business Calendar & Schedule” taken by photosteve101 – www.planetofsuccess.com/blog/

I mentioned in my “Taking off my pants” post, that I’m on the cusp (or I feel I’m on the cusp) of having my fiction writing become a viable job. One that sees me doing what I love, one that I can fit into my family’s schedule, and one that can maybe pay me something approaching a part-time salary.

Which would be awesome, of course!

But … I’m realizing if I want this to be a job, it’s time to treat it like a job.

What brought this realization about? Well, I recently applied for a job, and was interviewed for it (it was very recent, so I still haven’t heard the outcome of the interview).

While I’ve been contemplating what it would mean to take this job, I’ve thought things like, I’d have to get much more efficient. And, I’d have to stop doing “x,” as it’s a nice thing I get to do, but I won’t have time if I have a job. I’ve been running time recovery, and time saving tips through my mind.

And then I thought, Hmmm … what if I used all those tips for my writing career? What, indeed?

So, I’m going to.

I’m not going to be too hard on myself because I have been fairly prolific with my output. I’ve always got novels on the go, and I’m bringing them out much more quickly than if I was traditionally published.

But … I could do better.

Also, it’s not just the writing of the novels. Every novel I bring out means more technical work (formatting, liaising with designers, etc.) and more promotion. And, you know what? My current schedule doesn’t have a box for that kind of work. Right now I have, essentially two “work” boxes – my resume-writing box, and my novel-writing box.

I’m realizing that’s not going to work. First of all, I need to put novel-writing first. It’s actually starting to pay me more than resume-writing, and I like it more than resume-writing, and I want it to be more important than resume-writing, so it needs to be #1.

Then, I need to split that novel-writing time into two. There will be a chunk every day for writing “stuff.” That will vary from day to day, but it will include all the time-consuming things like formatting eBooks, and finding cover images, and keeping my website updated, etc.

That leaves the other chunk free for WRITING. Just writing. Output. Words.

It’s Sunday now and I’m going to start the week with a new, improved schedule. One that looks more like a job.

And I’m going to see how it goes.

Then, of course, I’ll let you all know!

Taking off my pants!

 

Short post: I have always been a pantser. This book channeled my thinking. I can now write a decent outline that doesn’t restrict my creativity and makes me write faster. That’s all you really need to know because the Kindle version of this book is only about $2.99, so go buy it!

Longer post: The longer / more I write, the harder it is for me to find new information or ideas that really resonate and change the way I think.

That’s pretty normal … I mean when I started journalism school, I was clueless. I left there reeling, and about four hundred per cent smarter than when I started. Then I went through a series of jobs writing, editing, fact-checking, proofreading, printing, and selling magazine, books, and other content. By the end of those I was probably another couple of hundred per cent smarter.

My first front-to-back overhaul edit of a novel manuscript probably doubled my writing smarts yet again.

And, ever since, I’ve continued to work with new people, take workshops, read blog posts and books, and try new things.

I no longer expect a complete, shocking overhaul of my knowledge. I mean, I’m giving myself some credit for having already learned quite a bit. But I really value it when any of the above teaches me at least one significant new thing.

And I’ve been lucky. Especially this year. It’s been a year of big learning.

I’m at a crossroads right now where writing fiction is very close to being an actual, viable job for me. To make it so, I have to up my output, while maintaining quality, and still loving what I do. Libbie Hawker’s book has shown me a way to do that.

I’m no longer in the zone of having the kind of increases in my writing learning that I used to have when I was a newbie, but I’ll give this book a good solid twenty-five per cent increase on my learning smarts. Remember, those are smarts that have already been doubled, and tripled, and quadrupled before, so a twenty-five per cent increase is pretty darn good – I don’t find those gains often.

Loved reading this book, love using it, and am loving taking off my pants!

Running

These are the shoes I couldn’t get by without. I wear them almost every day. It’s true, technically, I could run without them, but then I’d get wicked shin splints (my body’s first weakness) and I wouldn’t be able to run anymore.

I run most days, and I’ll run anywhere, but my favourite places to run are by the Ottawa River and on Wolfe Island. Which is why this time of year is great – I get to return to both of these places. The above photo was taken this morning on the Ottawa River pathway near the rock sculptures by Tunney’s Pasture (or where the rock sculptures will be soon).

Not infrequently, when I’m running, small children will turn to their parents and ask “Why she running?” and I’m always surprised. I always expect children will get it. Children will know why I run, because my reasons are very basic.

They are:

– Because I can

– Because sometimes it’s hard

– Because sometimes it’s easy

– Because I can feel my muscles getting stronger, and my lungs working harder while I do it

– Because of all the things I see along the way

– Because I solve problems while I do it

– Because it’s outside

– Because it’s amazing how far your feet can carry you

– Because it makes me a better rider, and skier, and mother

– Because I hope I never have to stop, but if someday I do, I want to make sure I ran every kilometre I could first

– Because sometimes it’s great to run away

There are more reasons, of course, but I’d need to go on a good, long run to think of them all.

If you run what do you get out of it?

Writing while Retreating

“Diary Writing” – a Creative Commons image taken by Fredrik Rubensson – http://bit.ly/1HVr89U

I’m going on a writing retreat at the end of this week. In fact, I’m hosting a writing retreat. Hmmm … should I be more panicked than I am?

Nah … probably not … right?

The thing is, every single person I’ve told about this weekend has asked me “what is a writing retreat?”

Good question!

Well, there are a wide range of answers, but here are some of the things you might experience at a writing retreat:

1) Workshops / Presentations – There might be themes or topics discussed that could, in theory, help with the shape and progress of your writing. Maybe the person organizing the retreat presents these – maybe they get somebody in to do so.

2) Feedback – There could be one-on-one coaching with more senior writers. Or there could be feedback within the group.

3) Discussion – Maybe a little less formal than feedback – the group could discuss stumbling blocks, a-ha moments, difficulties, etc.

4) Related Activities – Because of my horse connection, someone recently pointed me to a writing retreat centred around Equine Therapy. There could be retreats held at a spa, or yoga centre …

5) Writing time! I certainly hope so …

Writing retreats can be overnight, for a weekend, for a week, for a month – really any amount of time.

They can be something you do all alone, or with others.

They can cost LOTS and LOTS of money (to pay for all the above coaching / presenting, as well as meals, accommodations, etc.) or they can be dirt cheap.

So, what’s mine? Informal and dirt cheap – my favourite kind of weekend!

It started as something I threw out to my friend Lynn and she then corralled her writing group in, and – miracle of miracles – we were all free on the same weekend (when does that happen?) so we’re going on a writing retreat.

We’re going to Wolfe Island – which is great for me because I’ll be focusing on Book Three of the Island Trilogy. It’s also great because we’re staying for free. We’re bringing all our own food. In the end we’ll pay for gas, and we’ll each pitch in twenty bucks to get the place cleaned after we go, and that’s it.

It’s also simple – my only plans are to run and write (And eat. And sleep.) I don’t know what we’ll talk about in the evening – maybe what we worked on all day, or maybe not that at all – maybe we’ll discuss how it would be useful to have an extra hour in every day, or whether Kate Middleton is likely to have a boy or a girl, or the federal budget (probably not the budget … but you never know!).

My point is, it’s all about the writing. Sitting down and doing it.

So, you see, it’s not that hard to organize your own writing retreat. Just pick the time and find a place (it could even be going to your local library for the day – somewhere you won’t be disturbed or distracted) and write!

Have you gone on a writing retreat? Was is formal or informal? How did it work out for you?