A funny thing happened today: I came home early tonight after a CT class at Great Basin Bicycles (in which I almost puked a few times), and in the quiet dusk, the feeling of gratitude hit me pretty hard. Life, as it is, is far from perfect. The kitchen, for example, still has the old linoleum that’s not exactly white anymore no matter how long or hard I scrub; the cabinets are old, too—retro— in the way that hasn’t become popular again yet. And yet, despite these details as I look at the profusion of indoor plants that twine and wind around our walls and hang from our ceiling, the colorful walls, the beaded art from South Africa or art that friends have made for me, I see a home—a real home— that I have helped to build with these writing hands.
What’s Gratitude Got to Do with It?
In a way, this is the oddest blog post I’ve ever written. What does gratitude have to do with training for a 525-mile bike ride? No matter the size or scope of the journey, it always begins with a single step—whether that’s a literal step as you walk out the front door and to the gym where you can train or enroll in a class or you sit down to type the first words of that story you have always been meaning to write— every journey starts simple. So too, with this one.
I didn’t realize it when I accepted Jerry’s invitation to sign up for the team, but this year holds a special significance for me. Ten years ago, I listened to a lot of people tell me that I was going to fail as a professional writer. No one should invest in an MFA program, I heard again and again. Other things I was told: I didn’t have the backstory. I wasn’t marketable. I didn’t have the chops. I wasn’t edgy enough. I guess in this respect I’m not very smart, or when I decide that I’m going to do something, I just do it, and to hell with the rest of the world .
So, I did invest in an MFA program and I made a promise to myself every single time I signed my life away for another semester (which came out to $36.85 per day including weekends after scholarships and teaching stipends were applied) that I would pay it forward in the world through my continued presence as a writer of creative nonfiction and as someone who would one day pay those loans back so someone else could have the same opportunity I did. In other words: I didn’t just get to disappear or take the easy way out or declare bankruptcy or any of that. The MFA degree mattered yes; but it also mattered to me that I gave back what I borrowed, that I righted my wrong and then some.
This year— ten years after my first year in that MFA program when I moved away from home and everything I knew— I’m in the final months of paying off what I borrowed to make the MFA a reality for me. It hasn’t been an easy journey to arrive at this point, but I can’t help but think: I did it on my own and by careers and opportunities that my writing has opened for me. I didn’t get financial support from family or from a wealthy spouse. I didn’t win the lottery. I didn’t rob a bank. I sacrificed and I worked for it.
And, you know what? I didn’t fail. After so many years of believing that I was a complete failure, I can’t tell you how humbled (and grateful) I am to say that, given the way the cards were stacked against me both going in and coming out, that I’ve managed to come out of this journey with the “rubber side on the road” as we say in cycling—I am and I am going to be OK.
The CCC
It seems somewhat serendipitous that this is the moment that I take on the challenge of the California Coast Classic, an event that’s asking me to put myself out there not only as an athlete or only as a writer, but as an advocate for a cause. That’s new territory, too— but in this time of gratitude I actually think it’s the moment for me to grow again, and to face another challenge.
If anything, it’s a lesson in taking what life throws at you one step at a time. It’s like that old adage that asks how a person could possibly eat a 10-foot sandwich from Subway. The answer? One bite at a time. (Unless the sandwich has bologna on it. Then, I’d just give it to Rich.)
That’s pretty much how I take my days. I’m up at 4 a.m. (there are some days I swear I need an abalone iron to pry me off the mattress so I can get to the gym) where I do some version of a HIIT workout (High Intensity Interval Training.) Then I go to work where I interview faculty, students and staff for stories to populate the college news desk. I skip lunch. I struggle to drink enough water so I don’t constantly feel like I’m going to pass out. I’m off at 5 and on on the bike by 5:15 in Rich’s CT class at Great Basin. Because the algorithm of the program favors heavier riders, I have to work twice as hard as the men in the class to keep the pace moving.
And then I go to the grocery store and home where I clean up after the animals, throw a load of laundry in the washer or dryer, eat, rinse and repeat the next morning. If I’m lucky, I also sneak in 30-45 minutes of writing time for myself when I can draft or revise an essay to send to a literary journal. That time for myself—and my craft— doesn’t always happen. And that, too, is OK. That makes me even more grateful for the moments when I am doing what I have invested in myself to do.
Looking Forward
In about a week, I’m going to run a 12-minute run for distance fitness test. I’ve never gotten 2 miles in the few times I tried (last time, I ran 1.92 miles.) This time, I think I can make or exceed the 2-mile distance for that time if I can keep my calves happy (so far so good) and I can manage my level of fatigue, which is considerable now that the semester is under way. I’m super-crossing my fingers!! :-)
I’m also hopeful, now that the days are longer and warmer, that I can start riding outside and building my cycling volume that I’ll need for the CCC event. It will be interesting to see how this impacts my body which (surprisingly) has begun to thrive on the mixture of HIIT workouts for running/rowing/resistance training and CompuTrainer rides when paired every 12 hours.
As always, I hope you follow my journey on this blog. If there’s a topic you’d like me to write about, send me a note and I will see if I can work it in. My goal for this journey is not only to get into the physical shape I will need to in order to complete the 525-mile ride, but also to raise funds and awareness for the Arthritis Foundation.
So, here’s the deal: every donation is tax deductible and I don’t see a dime. 100% of the funds I raise go to research and awareness. If you’re looking for a philanthropic cause, you won’t find a better one. The people who make this even happen are the best you’ll ever meet. (And Team Carter is the bomb. Truly.)
Here’s a link to my fundraising page.
Thank you for reading. May you be filled with gratitude for all you have accomplished. Life is short; love what you’ve got.
And if you don’t, change it.