To Boston With Love

Two weeks ago I ran my first race of 2013, the largest 8k in the world as it is touted and the first race of the season for many. Each year I complain about the crowds of runners; 37,000 in total this year and the hot fluke weather we always have. Yet each year I sign up and join the sea of green that shuffles through the streets of Chicago. This year I debated showing up, not knowing about the weather, my training ability and the fact I had over scheduled myself. But I couldn’t justify throwing away the entry fee, so as I calmly stood waiting at the start line I decided to just run and enjoy. Mile after mile I checked in only to be shocked at my time, each mile was a minute and a half faster than my normal pace and with each stride I felt better and better. As I crossed the finished line I realized I had smashed my previous times and had set a glorious PR. As I collected my bananas and water I called my dad so proud of my accomplishment. I said “dad you know what… this is my racing year! Bring on the Chicago Marathon!”

Monday April 15^th rolled around just like any other Monday, for most of us it was tax deadline day, but for Boston it was marathon day. As a runner I always whisper quiet wishes of getting to run the iconic Boston Marathon, a goal and a dream that sits in the back of my mind. Every year I watch in awe of the athletic ability as it sprints its way through the historic streets of Boston. But more than being inspired by the runners, I look to the crowds cheering along and celebrating this day. Without the crowds of spectators screaming their words of praise a race wouldn’t be a race. Without the crowds of well-wishers miles where you feel as if you “hit the wall” would end a race in defeat. Without the support, the flags, the signs and the cheers the finish line would never appear. Without you I would not have accomplished the races I have. So when I heard and saw the horrific images on Monday I was overcome with sadness, because the spectators are the heart, motivation and strength of the runners.

In times of senseless tragedy gracious acts of humanity shine like beacons of hope for us all. To the city of Boston you are in the forethought of our mind, your strength and solidarity is an example of the true American spirit. To the families and friends who were injured, you are in our thoughts and prayers daily. To the Boston Marathon, while Monday has changed you forever, you symbolize courage, love and kindness, may you stand as a symbol of hope, peace and grace for all of us for years to come.

Day Four – On My Way to Enlightenment

I had the best day ever today! I feel as if my body has been infused with a surge of energy, yet at the same time there is a supreme sense of calm rushing through my veins, imagine walking out of the best message you’ve ever had, you feel so relaxed and yet so rejuvenated at the same time.

You have to know if I were telling this to you in person that statement would be said with much surprise in my tone. As my alarm jarred me out of a deep sleep at 5:30 this morning. I only wanted to cover my head and avoid the day all together. After my snooze alarm told me it was really time to get up, I begrudgingly made my way to the yoga center. And my mood wasn’t altered in the first half of class, doing breathing exercises only seemed to make me more cranky. But in our first savasana “Dead Man’s Pose” (lying still on the floor), I may have drifted off to sleep, or I may have breathed in the right amount of energy, I don’t know what happened, but from that moment on everything transitioned.

Who knew by day four I could feel such euphoria. I don’t know whether to credit the physical yoga practice, the pranayama (breathing) practice, the daily chanting, yoga philosophy class or meditation. But looking at my surroundings, you’ve seen my stark room and sleeping arrangements, our breakfast lunch and dinner consists of the same variation of food:
Breakfast, usually a savory rice/grain (still unknown, but usually contains so of what was left over from the night before mixed with a grain) and chia tea:
Lunch, rice, soup, stewed veggies and chapattis:
Dinner, more of the same
I’m waking at 5:30 every morning and occasionally taking a nap during my off hour, if I need the rest. I have no music or television (a self imposed restriction) to better focus on my thoughts. And with all of these restrictions and living conditions, I noticed today as I walked down the crowded streets of Rishikesh, the noise of honking motor bikes didn’t bother me, the man harassing me to buy goods didn’t bother me, the fly filled smudgy ground didn’t bother me. I can see why the Ashram gives restrictions on how long you can stay, because I would never leave to maintain this high.
I do know that it could be any combination of reasons why I’m feeling this way, and maybe part of it is that I am surrounded by like minded individuals all with similar goals, who I’ve interacted with and had stimulating conversations with. But I’m not going to over think it, rather just absorb this sense, live in the moment and leave you with a image from last night that exemplifies my feelings; mind, body and spirit.