I don’t have any art on my walls right now, so I end up hanging sometimes odd things instead. I live in a very small room in a lovely house in southwest Fort Collins, Colorado, one of the most beautiful places and communities on earth. This morning my ride to work was cold, clear and crystalline. The blue of the sky was the embodiment of “robin’s egg”. The detail of the foothills, even from miles away, was exceptional.
So here is a weird little pic of my wall from lying in my bed (where I spend an absurd amount of time marathoning YouTubers I love and recovering from having All. The. Jobs!!):
This shows, left to right…
A photo montage my mom made for my birthday a few years ago. It contains pictures of me I feel I owe a responsibility to, photos from various stages of my growing-up years. There is a shot of me in a Raggedy Ann dress and a Dutch boy haircut from when I was about 4 or 5. One of me sucking my thumb heroically & flaunting a ship captain’s hat next to my sleeping sister in the backseat of the car when I was about 6. One of me proud to wear my track uniform for my school in Florida when I was 11. One of me playing catch in the pool with my sister when I was about 11 or 12. One of my childhood dog Molly when she was a puppy. One of me sitting at my Dad’s house writing in my journal, around age 13. One of me from my brother’s wedding when I was 15 and my sister-in-law asked me to be a bridesmaid in their wedding. One of me graduating at the age of 21 from the University of Colorado with a Bachelor of Arts in History. To all of these past selves who probably thought I’d be in a better, more secure place at the ripe old age of 32 I have to say: I’m sorry. Life is weird. And I’m trying. I’m working on it. And we’re all going to be okay, really.
Then there is a strange hodgepodge in my photograph: tacked to the wall is a bicycle water bottle cage, and hanging from the bottle cage is a pair of running shoes. Well, they’re MY running shoes. These are there as present-day reminders: I am a cyclist and it’s a huge part of my life and it makes me really, really, REALLY proud to live where I live, love what I love and do what I do day in and day out to get around this community -I rely almost 100% on my bike for transportation- and be a part of this community, most publicly as a proud employee and volunteer or as we like to say “velonteer” at the Fort Collins Bike Co-op.
The running shoes remind me that I need to start running again, ASAP. I miss it, and also I registered today to participate in the Boulder Diva Dash on May 10, which is listed as a 5K on Active.com but is kind of a 5K/obstacle course. I registered because my colleague and friend Laura told me about it, and was kind enough to let me join her, her family and her friends who are running it too.
I’ve always loved running but especially in my adult years have needed a bit of motivation outside of myself. Dating an Ironman triathlete for awhile helped, and I ran my marathons and half-marathons in part thanks to Gregory’s support. Having been out of the running loop awhile, my flagrant eavesdropping on conversations between my colleague and her friend sort of got me back in the mindset. I pretty much asked point blank if I could join them. To my great surprise (and quite possibly, their great dismay) they were enjoyably amiable to my request. So I’m going to run a 5K with some amazing women. And hanging my kicks from my bottle cage on my wall keeps that in perspective.
Finally there’s the clock. Time is really important to me: yes, I have a cell phone that I carry almost everywhere with me, and there are clocks everywhere too, but I also wear a watch and feel kind of naked without it. I don’t know if this is because growing up we seemed to be running late all the time or what, but I like having audibly ticking clocks. For some it is nerve-wracking; for me it’s soothing. Weird, yeah?
My clock is simple but meaningful: it ticks loudly, it tells me the time, but it serves as a great reminder too in its exhortation: “WRITE NOW”.
So I did. 🙂
Thanks for reading.