Victor mugs....

THE VICTOR MUG "Each genuine Victor coffee mug [Victor is imprinted on the bottom of each] weighs more than a pound and is made of the finest fired clay porcelain. This excellent mug is virtually indestructible . Victor mugs would invite a sense of stability, permanence, and comfort. " http://victormug.com/


"Just like the curse just like the stray...
you feed it once...
and now it stays...."
(Until it Sleeps, Metallica, 1996)

The words blast in my ears as I romp through the woods...
So which beast do I feed today? Is it the one that wants to starve me....make me run on empty?

'Cuz I can't begin to count the number of days when I'm operating on "battery power" from a battery that's ready to crap out at any minute. But that beast insists on earning and deserving, even for the most basic necessities.. ..like food.

But I'm slowly realizing how much more I can accomplish when I’m not STARVING..

Starving for attention, understanding, human connection…

Or just plain ole’ nourishment…

I've found that in the absence of adequate nourishment …I CRAVE and CHASE “that BURN" that I've spoken of before....

And its insatiable..
And sometimes frightening..
And often maddening....

And while I am cruising/dragging/or being "pushed" along the trails, I often wonder if I'm "chasing" or "being chased" ..
But I know this is where I can both "loose her" and "find her" all over again.
Although sometimes its frightening to enter those trails on any give day...
because I just don't know which "beast" will show up...

The beast that wants to punish, push, pull, berate, starve.....
or the gentle beast, who knows how to adequately nourish the "fire in her belly" without the maddening hunt.

And SOMETIMES you haphazardly run into one of your old running buddies on that trail and get to enjoy an "accidentally glorious" jaunt.  And the happenstance meeting reminds you to look up from the trail every now and again...and APPRECIATE all that nature has offered you.

Because I think I would like to finally look up from the trail and LIVE my LIFE... and not just exist in perpetual RECOVERY.  I so easily forget how far I've come and how many things I've already recovered from but ...UGH...I'm EXHAUSTED and tired of "RECOVERING".

But maybe life is a continual cycle of living...hurting...recovering...and then living again.  And in the "living again" we are reminded to be appreciative of all that we may have forgotten we were fortunate enough to have in the first place...

Like the the natural progression of the woods, ....the trails are forever changing.  Sometimes they're clean and safe to pass through mindlessly.  Sometimes after a hard rain there are slicks spots or new roots that can trip you in an instant.  And while these trails are the same trails I've traversed a million and one times...there's an impermanence to them, which keeps me coming back for more.

In the fall, they are covered with glorious colors and layered with sheets of leaves that give them an extra "plushness".

In the winter the trees are barren, but you can see so much further and so much more of the water or hidden creeks that you don't see when the trees are in full bloom.

In the Spring they are luscious and green, with wildlife and foliage that constantly catch your eye.

In the summer, unfortunately, there are horse flies as big as golf balls that will HUNT YOU DOWN...chase you, circle you...they are relentless in their pursuit.  And to add insult to injury, their bite is VICIOUS.  Therefore, you are left appearing quite insane as you run along in a fit of madness yelling and swatting and throwing fists in the air ..

An eating disorder is like a horse fly....

Relentless in its pursuit...constantly circling ..looking to bite you at any minute...
Sometimes it will disappear.
But then it flies back in outta no where, when least expected...and there I am ....
Throwing fists in the air ...

I want to be like that Victor mug....indestructible...and with a sense of stability, permanence, and....
COMFORT.

I've gotten so used to being uncomfortable that I forgot what it is to be comfortable anymore...,

Maybe that's what I chase in the woods...

Because during this morning's jaunt, there was a spot on the trails where I could actually "smell" the warmth and comfort of the sun......
and even though I was trudging up "cemetery hill" (Yes...there is literally a cemetery at the top of this hill ...in case you don't make it.),
my breathing was labored,
my heart was pounding,

And I ironically felt...COMFORTABLE.

The woods ALWAYS ALWAYS nourish me....
And in the end...the gentle beast almost ALWAYS emerges...

feeling FULLY nourished.

And if you are reading this...you have nourished me in some very important and vital way at some point along my "trails"..

I hope in return I may have nourished you and your soul in some fashion ...and hopefully have encouraged you to find YOUR comfort...
whether it be in the woods...
or in the early morning...
or late evening ...

..or with a nice cup o' joe in a VICTOR MUG..

AND FOR THOSE HISTORY BUFFS...here is the HISTORY of the Victor Mug..
http://victormug.com/Victor.pdf

The Perfect HIT...

I crack a bottle o' red...twist off. 

Why? Cause I've already done so much activity today that I'm too damn lazy to deal with a cork...

I can run countless miles in the trails + pedal myself silly + pull ups and push ups galore + pooch walk + farmers market + yard clean up....

but the thought of pulling the cork outta a bottle of wine is agonizing...

ANYWAYS...

It’s a pain when the inspiration "hits mid pedal”.  But sometimes, that's just when the "hit" finds me, and that's how it happened yesterday afternoon.

I was craving words but could come up with none.  But as soon as I hop in my saddle BAM...WORDS IN MY HEAD like the news stream on the bottom of the CNN channel.

You see, I’m a proud pedaler.AND piddler...

I ALWAYS start the day out with some sorta pedal, but yesterday I also enjoyed a mid morning "piddle". 

I piddle around the house…move this here.... hang this there…or maybe there?

No this should go here…oh wow I forgot I had this!

Clean this, fold that..

Feed this…water that......

Hmmm...what am I feeding today? Or better yet....what feeds me today?

Was it the piddle or the pedal?

Its a continuous cycle of piddling, pedaling, fueling, feeding,.chasing.

I'm always chasing the “belly burn”.  I LOVE the feeling of the BURN in my belly. 

Maybes the burn comes from the perfect Kombucha..or Pellegrino …

or the perfect pour over coffee...or the impeccable cappuccino…

or that perfect glass o’ red….or the pristine ginger mule ..or the faultless bloody Mary…

I'm constantly chasing perfection…is this what medicine has done to me?

Because during the "down times", i.e., on weekends/mornings/evening, when I'm away from medicine, and in the absence of treating patients, its as if my mind is spinning on idle...but still CRAVING that "burn".

So while my mind "idles"... my belly craves that "burn of perfection" ....

Why is it in the form of lavish coffees and red wines? Who knows…

Maybe its my Italian heritage, but that only accounts for 50 % of moi, the other 50% of moi = Austrian, English, Swiss …possibly German? Maybe that explains the "outlying" Bloody Mary crave?

But please do not misinterpret this "perfection pursuit" as a pompous attempt to attain some sort of"exceptional" status.  Its not that those of us who work in medicine are “brilliant” or “genius” or some type of superior being for doing what we do.  

If anything, its quite the OPPOSITE.

We must be quite mad to devote such a large portion of our brains to memorize and house all of the information for diagnoses, treatments, drug interactions, contraindications, starting doses, red flags and coding crap-o-la, such that we are barely able to muster an iota of brain power to devote to even the simplest tasks.

I've watched my husband struggle to use our manual can opener.

Tonight, I got in a heated battle with saran wrap and lost...miserably...it wasn't.even.close.

But we continue to seek out that next “hit” of perfection, whether its through medicine, or various caffeinated beverages and adult libations.

But the difference is, in medicine, you HAVE TO BE PERFECT. 

You have someone else's health and well being in your hands, EVER.DAY.

EVERY DAY someone is staring back at me looking for answers to achieve their version of "perfection".  

Maybes its to be in less pain, or to feel happier, or to have lower blood pressure, or higher self esteem...or to have a daily bowel movement.

WHATEVER it is...they look to us for the answers....

And I gotta admit..I DON'T ALWAYS HAVE THEM.

Last week I was faced with a patient with sudden onset diarrhea...and I was CLUELESS.  

I remember thinking "hmmm..you should see someone about that".  

Oh yeah ...that someone is ME ...!!!

Oy vey....

Can I handle this???

Lemme sip summore red and mull this over....

Sometimes I wanna feel...and sometimes I don't...

Sometimes I can't possible fathom "feeling all the feels" 

Sometimes I need a little help to feel...

Sometime I wanna taste the food...

and sometimes I don't want to allow myself to enjoy it...

Last Friday at crack o' dawn AM my Ipod crapped out and I ended up doing the majority of my "AM insanity" at the gym sans head phones.  Therefore I had to actually HEAR my breathlessness and hear my heart racing.

and it was surprisingly...

quite lovely...

Normally I "numb it out" so I can 't hear how hard my body is working to try to keep up with my racing mind.  Possibly because if I could actually perceive how hard my body was working I would stop dead in my tracks, because no sane person would put their body through this.

But it was actually quite liberating to be able to "hear" myself struggling, but knowing I can continue through the struggle.  Just like I continued on through that sloshy, icey, muddy trail run last week, despite the warnings to turn back.

Because its through that struggle that I can recognize my strength....

Because there is beauty in the bleeding ...

And as Aristotle so eloquently put it...

"There is no genius without having a touch of madness.” 

So maybe I'm a genius after all...

We are ALL A TAD MAD in our own right...
THEREFORE...we are ALL A GENIUS ...

CONGRATS to you for your geniousness...

And thanks again for inspiring me to share my genius views with you...

=D

This is the small homemade sign I bought for myself for my birthday last night after enjoying a MOST delicious dinner with my friends + red x 2 :) ..an imported blend from France, and I thought the French were the Chardonnay/white authorities!

SO yes...I will indeed attempt to write something EVER. DAY...even if it sucks...because nothing sucks more than losing your mind...and your artists ...down the rat hole of medicine.

Taking care of people is HARD.
REALLY. EFFIN. HARD.
But rewarding...?
Indeed..no doubt.  
Fulfilling??? absolutely...
Do I love it? Yes..some days more than others ... =D

But at the end of the day/shift...after you're plowed through all of your F&CKS for the day (i.e..YES...I really do give a F%CK about this person in front of me who needs my help...), its nearly impossible to give another F%CK about caring for yourself...or those in closest proximity to you, or who even may share residency with you.

But these are the MOST IMPORTANT F%CKs to give...

Therefore I will continue to try to determine how I might most effectively reserve these most precious and important F%CKs...

And when I figure it out...I'll let you know...

if you really give a F%CK..

Yes...this indeed did SUCK...(ooh lookey...I rhymed !!)

The Ball Pit...

I wake to hear rain drops puttering outside...
boooo...rain rain go away...why do you hate me world??
I hear her floppy years shake..
she's ready...
I guess I'm ready too.
Although I could get used to this sleeping in ...

But when I walk outside it is a GLORIOUS morning as the fog and mist lift....it wasn't rain but the melting snow that was puttering ...Maybe it WILL be a sunny day after all.
I can't WAIT to romp around in the trails o' Umstead.
As I embark on my journey I completely forget about the morning commuters...i guess its not EVERYBODY's birthday today.

I get to the park and the parking lot is STILL a sheet of ice...hadn't considered this. Wonder how the trails will be?
I very carefully and meticulously "heel-toe" my way towards the trails.
I see two runners running right towards me as I begin my jaunt..why are they running right at me..?
"They're trashed" she says..."The trails are a mess...ice, slush..mud"
Her runner buddy nods in concurrence....
"Even the bridal trails?" I ask
"Yea" replies runner buddy. "That's where we were headed but we turned around..."
"Ok" I reply.." I'll check it out...thanks!"

I press on 'cuz that's what I do...

I'm stubborn, i'm pig-headed, I rarely head warnings or listen to rules or advice.  I'm finally proud to admit that I'm an adventure junkie who CRAVES daily adrenaline "hits" ...and this junkie is CRAVING adventure particularly on this 39th year o' life.
The trails are...indeed...TRASHED.

Much more ice than I had anticipated.YAK TRAKs...in the car...would have been helpful, but don't feel like turning around now.

There are some "bare" spots along the sides and the occasional "dry patch" but I press on the down the hill and promise myself I will NOT SLIP.  If its possible for a long down hill to actually feel like an uphill, well ..it did!

I run...I tip toe..I slosh...I crush leaves and greenery under the frozen snow as I weave down the trail through the side trenches and back up on the trail through the "safe" patches.

I approach bridges which actually have the perfect layer of powder to allow me to safely traverse their crossing.

I run down cedar creek...the nastiest hill in the park...just because....why the heck not? Its already nasty out here...might as well make the most of the nastiness!

After about three years of descending this atrocity, I  FINALLY get to the bottom, where I know a beautiful creek awaits me.  I arrive ...alone..the air is still...the sun glistens off both the water and the snow patched earth that surrounds it.  The water trickles..all is still ..for a moment.

I turn to begin my ascent back UP the atrocity. I seek out patches of gravel and rock to secure my footing.  It is so steep at one point I feel as though i'm running for the very first time in my life..
.
I push myself up the atrocity of a hill that I've pushed up countless times in the past while training for the countless adventures I've signed myself up for throughout my life.

I mostly train for "life" now ...but I still run and train with that urgency ...like i'm being chased or maybe I'm chasing something?
What can I still be chasing, haven't i accomplished enough?

Countless adventure races, marathons, trail runs, marriage, love, incredible friends, amazing family, beautiful NC life, various academic degrees, PA school, a job in rural medicine where i'm reminded how simple life really can be...if I would let it.

I continue to slosh around the trails and watch as the sun peaks through the trails and mist lifts off the water.
I am a DAMN LUCKY GAL to feast my eyes on such visions that mother nature awards us.
And I would be DAMN LUCKY to see even more...if I would FUEL myself more adequately.

I continue to struggle to "fuel" myself every.damn.day. But the "fuel" various on a daily basis...sometimes its adequate caloric intake..sometimes it adequate nature-esque intake...sometimes its adequate artistic output....sometimes its adequate human connection...sometimes its adequate patient care...sometime its adequate care of the loves of my life.

Sometimes i wish I could be content with being INADEQUATE....

But yet...I still run...because it always feels so damn good no matter how horrible it starts out.

And I continue to operate under the notion of "perpetual discontent". I find an ironic satisfaction in this as I continue to“feed the beast” of constant motion and achievement and realize I may never be completely satisfied with my achievements.

Remember that "ball pit" that we all used to romp around in as kids? Well...that's where the artist in me is currently "romping". She is trying to stay afloat, but finds herself being buried under"balls" (tee hee) of chief complaints, history of present illness, medication refills, chronic illness, smoking cessation counseling, depression and anxiety counseling, dizziness and lightheartedness, nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, coding, billing, and at the end of the day, just trying to make someone laugh or remind someone that they are loved. 

And while the artist struggles to stay afloat, sometimes she goes under......
BUT....every now and again...SHE POPS UP OUTTA NOWHERE and creates something "adequate". 

I survived today's romp in the sloshy, icey, muddy trails, despite the warning to turn back.

I'm glad I ignore those warnings.  I can never turn back, I thrive in the face of adversity...that's when the artist can create the most. 

And while I reflect on these 39 years, I recall a piece I wrote  4 years ago...my personal statement for PA school...the piece that got me into the "ball pit" in the first place. I attach it here if you have a few more min to waste.... :) 

And thank you for wasting your precious minutes to read my words...I hope I have inspired or encouraged the way you have most certainly inspired and encouraged me...and have given me a reason to "Pop up" from the ball pit we call LIFE...

AUGUST 2013

I once read a story in Runner's World magazine about a runner who had completed the grueling Leadville 100 mile run in Colorado, suffering barely a scratch.  A few weeks later while running through his neighborhood, he tripped on a decorative rock, and broke 3 ribs.  Life's wounds are inevitable, and we are all recovering from something, whether it is from wounds of the day, week or many years ago. 

Two years ago I ran to the top of Mt. Mitchell for the annual 40 mile winter challenge.  I thought that when I reached the summit, I could hurl all of my wounds from the mountaintop.  But when I reached the top, there was nothing I wanted to throw.  Through the many months of arduous training leading up to this point, I had finally realized how valuable these wounds were.  I discovered that wounds are not an anchor, but the catalyst that will help me prevail in the face of adversity.  I realized that scars are a precious reminder of our extraordinary ability to recover. My recovery occurs along the many miles of trails I run or ride, because the more my legs spin, the less my mind does.  I recover every time I step onto my yoga mat, and am reminded of the restorative powers of stillness and breath. 

I am also fortunate to have found someone to join hands with as we navigate the joys and heartache of life.  Our marriage is by no means perfect. We are outnumbered by dogs in the house and weeds in the yard.  We are-over budget, over-tired, and at times, under-appreciative of one another.  We are terribly flawed individuals who make a magnificently flawed pair.  But when one of us trips along the trail, the other is there to lift them off the ground.

In my 34 years of existence, I have come to appreciate the exquisite combination of thrills and tragedies that life has to offer.  Without fully appreciating each in their own right, you cannot fully live.  I believe my experiences will be instrumental as I help others to recover from their wounds.  I may not know what it is to live with chronic illness or suffer from a debilitating disease.  But I know what it is to spend almost a lifetime recovering.  I know what it feels like to be faced with an insurmountable task. I know what it is to be entirely broken down, yet somehow muster an ounce of courage to push through the pain, freezing temperatures or high speed winds, to summit a peak.  And I know how important it is to be patient as you allow yourself to recover one mile, one day, one step at a time.

“Life is what happens as you live with the wounds.  Life is not a matter of getting the wounds out of the way so that you can finally live.  Wounds are never permanently erased.  We are fragile beings, and some days we break all over again.”  Geneen Roth