for those whose trauma isn't
linked to loud explosions
welcome to lander on the fourth
specifically, the deep north
land of the free
land of the brave
ear protection (truly) required
be prepared to rise the next day
to the smell of gunpowder
lingering in the morning air
spent firecrackers lying in the streets
folks slowly clearing away the debris
snow shovel or broom in one hand
coffee mug in the other
Today at the gym, a woman I didn't know turned to me and said, "It looks like this is the place to be for women of a certain age [our age]." I grinned. Not wrong.
To be clear, when I say "gym" I mean Elemental. There was a blip in my twenties when I tried somewhere else. I can't remember why and it didn't last long. Years later, the owner of that other gym overdosed on vitamin supplements. My god.
I started training with Steve many moons ago, when he was working out of the frame shop (before it became the frame shop). I went with Heather. I wore cowboy boots every session.
Steve still gives me shit about that. Rightly so. The enduring truth is I can't be bothered to wear appropriate clothes to the gym. Today, I was on the elliptical in a corduroy jumpsuit. Not a summer corduroy either.
Luckily, sporting fall leisure wear on the cardio machines is just fine at Elemental. It's a homey place. Safe and non-judgmental. Filled with people I love, or would love if I knew them. No mirrors. Room to chat. There is humor, ease and connection, respectful spaciousness for private work. Kids. Grandparents. Fit. Not so much. All feeling genuinely welcome.
Long ago, Steve began calling the people he trained athletes. The tradition stuck, became part of Elemental's gym culture, and remains. Initially, I was startled in a "Who me?!" kind of way, but then I liked it. I like it.
From the coaching team advertised on Safeway shopping carts to Charlie and the climbing club kids. From Anne teaching core class to Mei filling a new role in a familiar space. Seeing Steve and Ellen's teenaged kids milling about the periphery, remembering when Annabelle was a baby in a carseat on the gym floor or when Sam was obsessed with vacuum cleaners.
Every bit of it pleases me.
There were times in my life when I primarily shuttled between three places: home, NOLS' big house (two blocks away) and the gym (three blocks away). I left HQ eight years ago and got pregnant a year later. After Ben was born, my abdominal wall had a crevasse running down the middle. I didn't have capacity to work out. Time passed. I still didn't have capacity, but for different reasons. Now I do.
What a miracle! Not taken for granted. At all.
I go to the gym. I do my physical therapy exercises (Erin, may Lander bless and keep her, is a Vacation Club gem). I get on the elliptical for half an hour. I do this more often than not these days.
That's it. Momentous.
Regardless, I love Catherine Newman. She is the greatest. Mos def a veritable
Ben and I went to our first triathlon over the weekend. On the way there, we talked about how "winning" has a lot of different meanings-- going fastest is one; having fun, good sportsmanship, and trying your best is another.
From the sidelines, it became obvious Ben was running, biking and swimming faster than anyone his age. He pushed himself hard. He cheered for his friend who came in last (but happy) in every leg of the race. He couldn't stop grinning.
We were in line for his free ice cream cone when results were announced. He came in second among six to eight year old boys. Ben was so surprised by the whole podium thing. He had no idea. Biking home he said, "That took every ounce of my training and practice, but I won in every way!"
Wow, kiddo. You sure did.
[Also Ben: "I don't remember saying that one bit."]
