The Meditation Coach

Back to the onions and how I know they are the secret to turning me into a runner. I was on my first retreat in Scotland and 3 months pregnant with my first, although no-one knew. I was too scared they would kick me out if they did. This wasn't some some champagne drinking, lulu lemon wearing come out with your toenails painted fuchsia retreat. It was Spiritual Bootcamp 101 for beginners comprising of 6 hours of yoga, 4 hours of meditation per day with some in complete silence. Everyone had chores and pulled their weight.

I quickly latched onto the slightly cross eyed, not quite 5 foot tall, elderly Scottish volunteer cook called Margaret who, to this day, remains one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. I was highly suspicious of the food that would be served and had come prepared with a suitcase full of provisions tucked away under my bed. I have had very little tolerance in the past of “fussy” eaters and then karma found me. I had always looked forward to the mystery of pregnancies cravings but all I had were aversions and I for 9 months reincarnated into the pickiest, fussiest most unbelievably awful eater in the world. I could not eat anything that had garlic, salt, pepper, spices, essentially flavour but most of all onions. And my husband couldn't either if he wanted to come within one metre radius of me. Then Margaret gave me my first chore; to finely dice a large bucket of onions.

I do not think I can properly convey how very much I did not want to dice those onions but I thought so highly of Margaret, and wanted her to think so highly of me in return, that I did not want to fail her on my first and deceiving simple task. So I thought I would give this meditation malarky a whirl to this chore and see if it worked. I was on retreat after all. I applied some simple and very rudimentary techniques. I focused on my breath, “cleared my mind”, only concentrating on the task. And lo and behold, I did it! I didn't find excuses or cry (from onions or otherwise) or wretch or complain or quit. This was quite a revelation for me. That bucket of onions had made me invincible. I could do anything.

The truth is that it took three more years of practise before I really “got” meditation. But the seeds were sown that day. Previously any spiritual exposure I had involved a lot of praying which to me means talking / asking. Like my number one prayer my friend taught me “Hail Mary full of grace show me a parking space.” Meditation is teaching me to shut up and listen. And run.

The Non Attachment Workout

Currently my greatest challenge has resided not in running but what Buddhists call “non attachment”. True understanding of non attachment, like a big bar of chocolate, is best served in in bite sized pieces not by stuffing your face. And running is a great teacher. If I find myself thinking or saying, “I only run in the evening / or when it is sunny / or with my running partner / or in the country / or when wearing my lucky underwear” I stop myself. I do not want to create conditions that will set me up for further excuses or failure in the future. If I have no preconceived notions of how things should be or how I feel about them then I am exercising my true free will and not allowing circumstances to have any form of “control” over me.

Does it mean I still have preferences? Yes. But when in life is anything ever perfect? And the few times when the stars are aligned just so and everything in the universe conspires to my wishes than I am grateful. The irony is that I have never learned anything new about myself in these moments and they are often the least memorable runs. Remind me of this when the inevitable blizzards with -40 Celsius and waist deep snow drifts settle in for the winter.

Recently I had a taste of this when the fringes of a hurricane swept our shore. I felt coerced to becoming one with that sad piece of a equipment in the bowels of the basement. Treadmills are not the best cheerleaders, and nobody benefits from immediate feedback of calories burned, distanced travelled and watching time play tricks on you. It is a dysfunctional demoralising relationship but we are working on it and hopefully one day soon we can be on talking terms that treadmill and I.

Last weekend I was in the city and unexpectedly had to stay longer than originally planned. This meant I had not packed my running shoes. I went into full blown panic mode. Every second day I run and I feel if I miss one day then I will undo all the conditioning that I have sweated for and be back walking as fast as one can untie my double knotted runners shoelace. I do not even want to admit how low I stooped to borrow a size 10 pair of running shoes in Halifax. I am still embarrassed by it as I have no concept of personal boundaries. I apologise – you know who you are! Amidst this chaos screaming in my head I finally listen to a tiny whisper...could it be....no....could it possibly be....am I attached to running? In summary I practised non attachment techniques to running only to become attached to running which means I now I have to become non attached to running. So essentially I am back at the beginning! My non attachment practise did a switcharoo on me. Hardly surprising. I am a Gemini.

I fully recommend the non attachment workout. I learned to let go and not run. And in the process I became a much better runner.

Reflections on Running 5kms

I stepped on my scales for the first time since I started running two months ago. I was staggered at my weight loss, it seems inconceivable that having run consistently every second day that I have lost....wait for it....I really hope you are sitting down....100 grams. Seriously. I could cut off all my hair and get greater results. Surely people who can run 5kms weigh less than 100 pounds?

Running has defiantly changed my life. For the worse. Showers, for me, are a luxury activity not a necessity. Being someone who resembles a sweaty beetroot when I run, means I have to shower much more often than previously. Plus I need to wash my hair more often than my ten day maximum. I have more laundry as I am now having to wear a second set of clothes that scream “olfactory” from my laundry basket if left for longer than a day. My skin has broken out like a forlorn teenager and for all my moaning I am even starting to sound like one. In summary running has changed me into a 100 gram thinner, smellier, acne-ridden beetroot. I apologise profusely but I am the worst possible advocate for running.

There are signs of hope though and I cling on to these like velcro. The deer no longer mock me with their rudeness and I look forward to seeing the wildlife. I prefer the days when I do run rather than when I do not. Positive signs of addiction that 5km is no longer enough, running has made me greedy and I want more. And I even managed to convince my husband that it was not a tumour on my left buttock but the promised beginnings of muscle. That and the bag of onions. I have got a lot of mileage out of that bag of onions which deserves further exploration on another day.

Death Run: Part I

I finalised my will today. Not a very cheery subject I know but very practical now I have become a runner. I decided to take the opportunity to run home from the lawyers house since it is exactly 5km from home and my husband escorted the will by car. A bit of a death wish running holding your will really. Imagine if I did get hit by a car or had a heart attack and they found me in the ditch holding my will. Everyone would be extremely impressed by my practicality and organisational skills for sure and would talk about this rather than my crap running. Because that is what you do when people die, you leave out the bad bits. Which is a shame I think as those are usually the most interesting parts. But I digress....

In Buddhist traditions it is very important to meditate on death. They are not morbid, it is just the most effective way of quickly putting life in perspective. There are various ways to go about it. I highly recommend “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying” it is a rollicking good read and very thought provoking. I usually drag it out once a year. One meditation I have always been fascinated by is you go to a cemetery at midnight, by yourself and meditate. If that sounds scary than imagine doing it in India where you could smell the burning bodies, see the bones poking about and hear animals creeping in for a midnight snack.

However this is tame compared to the Marathon Monks. Having a lazy day? Lacking motivation? I highly recommend watching this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S06oMxdt40A Totally riveting. They run themselves physically to the point of death and then meditate. Some actually die. Simplified, I think the point is to confront your own death in meditation so that when your time is up you do not waste all your energy freaking out and miss the momentous event. It feels like I am dying sometimes when I do run so to me this is a logical connection.

I am psyching myself up to do a death run. I have always liked the idea of running in the woods. Which is handy since I live in the Nova Scotian wilderness. The problem is that packs of coyotes and bears like living there too and I swear there is a wildcat or puma lurking around. Even thinking about it while I ran on the safety of the Gulf Shore Road gave me the willies and I was so preoccupied thinking about death that I ran my first 5km the whole way. I strongly suspect that once I summon the courage to do the Death Run that it will be my fastest. If I survive to tell the tale.

“Live each day as if it were your life.” One of the Marathon Monks said that and it really inspired me. I have to run each run as if it was my last. Because it very well could be.