Speed bumps on the road of life

When I decided to help coach a running program at my kids' elementary school this spring, I didn't exactly know what to expect. I'd never coached a team before and I've come late to running, having grown to love it only in the past three years. It wasn't like I was an expert on the ins and outs of exercise drills or the various muscle groups used during stretches and runs. Important coach stuff to know, I would think.

But here's what I do know: I have a passion for running, for working toward a sound mind and body, and most importantly for this particular program, a desire to help young girls feel strong -- both mentally and physically. As the mom of an almost-tween, and a woman who has dealt with (still deals with!) feeling "good enough," I can't shake this longing for doing my part to combat all the junk out there that suggests girls should look and act a certain part to get ahead in life. It starts early, from my own experience and from what I see just watching my own beautifully unique nearly 9-year-old navigate her own world of relationships and the images she's exposed to through various forms of media.

Four weeks into coaching Girls on the Run, a national program with chapters across the country, I'm so happy I've taken on this role. Incredibly, we have nearly 70 third-, fourth- and fifth-grade girls on our team -- we're the largest chapter in our region. Of course I am not doing this alone, and I am so grateful for how seven other parents -- including one dad! -- have stepped up and entered into the lives of these amazing young girls. It's not been easy at times, thanks not only to the sheer size of the group and the twice-weekly time commitment, but because...well, 8, 9 and 10 are tough ages to be.

Ok, so each age has its challenges. (I have a two younger boys, ages 6 and 3, and believe me, there's plenty of issues with each of these ages as well, and I can just imagine what's in store for me during the teen years...) But there's something about the upper elementary grades, for a girl, that make life I believe especially trying. I can remember these days clearly: who's your best friend, who's not can change nearly weekly...clothing takes on new significance...boys as friends vs. boys as people with cooties to avoid at all costs becomes a concern...and, then, the whole body thing, with changes happening for some of us quickly (or slower) than others.

During the six practices we've had so far, we've dealt with the to-be-expected physical trials like skinned knees, cuts and bruises, even a minor asthma attack. Most recently we've faced the inevitable, heart-breaking tears over friend misunderstandings, hurtful gossiping and general relationship ickiness and drama. It's gonna happen, and while frustrating at times, I almost welcome it because the curriculum we follow talks about all this stuff, and then some. I feel almost honored to be there, helping these girls make sense of what's to them a very confusing time in their life. And in between all this, of course, we run. We stretch and play games and we run. We fall, figuratuvely and literally, but we help each other get back up, move forward and ultimately find out that we really can do more than we thought we could.

I love that now, walking through the school's hallways, girls yell out to me, "Hi, Mrs. Durocher!" and stop to share tidbits from their life, like how they talked things through with a friend or have been running on the weekends with their families.

I've also realized how much I'm learning from these girls. As I write this today I'm facing a decision I don't want to make, and I can't help thinking about how I'd be smart to heed some of the advice dispensed through the Girls on the Run program. Make healthy choices. Respect yourself. Take good care of your body.

As I've shared on this blog, I signed up for my first marathon this spring. After three half-marathons, a handful of 10- and 5-Ks, I felt ready to take the plunge and train for 26.2 miles. Having heard tales of runners pushing themselves too hard during training and injuring themselves to the point of having to pull out of the race, I was determined from the start to train smart. I imagined myself walking that fine line of challenging myself while listening to my body. I printed out a training guide based on my best half-marathon time of 1:48, but even that outline seemed overly aggressive at times. So I modified it some to be sure I kept to my goal of making it to race day unhurt.

Then it happened. I got overly-confident.

One cool, sunny Friday I laced up and headed out for a 10-miler. It went so well and I felt so good afterward, I somehow thought I would have no problem doing 12 miles just two days later, and then another 12 several days after that. Up to that point I'd been doing 6 miles at the most on a fairly consistent basis and so this jump up didn't seem too crazy at all. And maybe it wouldn't have been if I hadn't also dialed up my speed and incorporated a bigger hill into the mix. All together, it apparently was just too much. My left achilles informed me of my mistake.

I haven't run for a week now, having had to cut a planned 18-miler short after experiencing intense pain 10 miles in (yes, even after initial aches following the previous 12-miler, I thought I could do this even longer run). I pushed through a few more miles that afternoon, stopping every so often to rest and hope the throbbing would just go away. But it didn't. So I walked. Fighting tears, I walked several miles home, feeling stupid, ashamed, guilty...and then angry for not going easier on myself. Why is it I am so hard on myself when I would be nothing but loving and compassionate toward a friend in the same situation?

I thought of the girls I'm coaching and the all the lessons we're learning, that even I'm obviously still learning. And while I want to run a marathon very badly, now perhaps is just not my time. The last thing I want to do is injure myself further. There will be other races. Other times to prove to myself that I can do something I never thought I could do. Take care of yourself.

It's rather astounding to me that, at age 34, taking care of myself could prove to be such a difficult task. But the more I am aware of the benefits of doing so, and the more I witness it in the young girls I'm coaching and experience it firsthand, the more I realize it really is the only way to go. I think my girls would be proud to hear me say so -- and to see me actually live it out, too.

If you'd like to learn more about Girls on the Run, please check out the non-profit's web site. Also see the founder Molly Barker's very cool blog.

Loving Laughing: A tiny story about a penguin & a polar bear

John and Karen
by trescourt

You know the kind of laughing that comes busting out when you least expect it? A giggling fit that, just when you think you’ve got it under control, spills out of you for another round? Any humor that triggers this reaction in me, I just love. Just as funny as the thing you’re laughing at is how you just can’t seem to keep yourself collected, no matter how hard you try.

I found myself laughing like this the other day when my husband and I went to see the compilation of this year’s Oscar-nominated animated shorts. I had to share the one short – John and Karen, a U.K. film directed by Matthew Walker – that got me in this silly mood, short-lived as it was since this particular short film is all of about four minutes long. It’s perfectly timed. Click on the screen above to watch.

The giggles began when Karen opened the door. Something about how small she was in comparison to John, maybe. Or their their British accented-voices. I don’t know, all of it. It just got me, and it only got better as it went on.

By the way, the rest of the shorts were, overall, pretty good. A couple definitely didn’t resonate with me, but the animation is quite impressive. My second favorite, which I couldn’t find online, but if you have the chance to check out absolutely do: LE MAISON EN PETITS CUBES, directerd by Kunio Kato. Best of all, these were showing at The State Theatre, the fantastic volunteer-run movie house I’ve written about previously here. This was our first volunteer experience at The State – I had way too much fun saying “Enjoy the show!” as I collected tickets – and we’ve now signed on to be regulars.

Long live the movie - and animated short - that makes you smile and laugh. Really laugh.

Everyone's got a story

I adore this photo of my grandparents, taken on the Au Sable River in northern Michigan in the early 1930s. My grandparents - Herbie and Jeri - were married more than 60 years and I love how this photo captures a moment very early on in their relationship.

I was inspired to track down this picture (thank you, Mom) after hearing what my friend and fellow writer Heather Shumaker is up to these days. Formerly with the Grand Traverse Regional Conservancy - she served as coastal program director for eight years - Heather decided to pursue a lifelong passion for writing and started a successful freelancing career. She's written for a range of magazines, including Parenting, Organic Gardening and Traverse. Recently, she's delved into personal life history writing.

As one of only eight personal historians in the state - the only one in northern Michigan, according to the Association of Personal Historians - Heather works with families to record a person's life story. (The 600+ member Association, by the way, is growing rapidly. "It's kind of neat how people are really starting to value family stories," Heather says.)

Through her business Life Story Trust, she conducts interviews, writes the individual's life story and provides it in a hardback book. She also provides an audio recording to preserve the person's voice.

"My emphasis, because I am a writer, is to develop a beautifully-written piece," Heather explains.

Many people would love to have their story - or their loved ones' stories - recorded for future generations. Some people even attempt such a project themselves, which can work out just fine.
But Heather believes such a task can prove overwhelming for a lot of people - in fact, she hears this time and again.

"I think it helps to have an outside person do the writing," she says. "Doing it yourself can be daunting."

Over the course of up to three face-to-face interviews, Heather takes that information and crafts a person's story. She has loads of experience doing this, for clients as well as her own family members. In fact, she first got a taste of this kind of writing during her college years at Swarthmore College, just outside Philadelphia. As a student, studying sociology and anthropology, she interviewed people to learn their life story for class assignments.

Each person's story is interesting, though a few specific experiences she's heard stand out: a woman who, as a little girl in Jamaica, threw tangerines at a watchman; a man who talked about what it was like to be the son of a lighthouse keeper; and a woman who was brought up in Nazi Germany.

Anyone interested in their family heritage would appreciate what Heather is doing. She says retirees are working with her, as are adult children who want to have their parents' life stories recorded and cherished by younger family members. Heather herself is the mom of two: Alex, 4 1/2 and Luke, 1.

Heather told me she feels like her life has come full circle, considering how what she studied in college is now serving her well in her new career. Even her years following her passion for non-profits and environmental work are, in a way, tied into the path she's now following.

"I used to preserve land, and now I preserve stories."

To learn more about Heather Shumaker's Life Story Trust, email her at heather@lifestorytrust.com or visit www.lifestorytrust.com .

I found my thrill...

Back in high school, it was a place to drive to with your date. It wasn't a make-out spot - no place to park except smack-dab in front of a home -- but more of a scenic venture uphill that, once at the top, provided an incredible view of West Grand Traverse Bay and the city lights below.

It's still a location we'll drive to now and again with the kids, especially around the holidays to see Christmas decorations, but Wayne Hill in Traverse City holds a new and different meaning nowadays: an excruciatingly steep stretch of road I'm determined to conquer in the weeks leading up to the Bayshore Marathon. Which is, scarily enough, fast-approaching. Hello, less than three months away to race day.

So, Wayne Hill. It's a gorgeous area on the west side of the city, a looped neighborhood of maybe three dozen or so homes, some of which have amazing panoramic views given the location's high elevation overlooking the Bay and city stretching eastward. I remember when a grade school friend moved from the lower-lying east side to Wayne Hill in junior high, and our group of friends all thought, "Wow, her family has arrived!"

In recent years I've run not even half-way up Wayne Hill. It was part of my running group's regular route, but we always took a sharp right onto a trail before the road turned too steep. As I train for the longest race I've ever attempted, I got the crazy idea that maybe I should Just. Keep. Going. and let this hill know I mean business. Hill work supposedly helps your endurance, right? I don't know the specifics of this; all I know is running up hills is super hard and so I figure there must be some payback for the ridiculous amount of effort that goes into running at an incline.

So the other day, feeling particularly ambitious and deliriously happy about the sunshine finally making an appearance in northern Michigan, I kept right on going up Wayne Hill.

With help from 90s music blaring on my iPod (thank you, Rob Base"It Takes Two"), I got....not quite there.

This is a big, big hill. What was I thinking?

Strong as I felt at the bottom, three-quarters of the way up, I was toast. Lungs and legs were burning, the thumping, normally keep-me-going music wasn't cutting it. I was done. So I stopped and walked, completely out of breath.

That's when I noticed a man getting out of his car in a driveway just ahead of me. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was clearly looking at me and his mouth was moving. I removed my iPod earphones.

"Wow, just watching you run up this hill makes me tired! I can hardly walk it. Great job! Keep it up!" Then he waved before going inside his home.

Amazing how a simple comment from a stranger can make you feel pretty awesome. And maybe a tad crazy. Who does run Wayne Hill anyway?

This is not the part where the corny music is cued and I suddenly experienced an infusion of strength to keep going, to victoriously go on to reach the top of the summit. I still kept walking, huffing and puffing each step. I did manage a weak wave and smile in the man's direction.

But the top wasn't so far off, and once there, I was reminded of the spectacular view - made even more beautiful by the sparkling ice and snow covering the water below. I stood there for a few moments, taking it in ... and catching my breath.

Next time, I think, it won't be so bad. And there's always the view.

My downtown State of mind

Unless a film is just downright bad, I'll hold off going to the bathroom when I'm at the movies. Which is no small feat when you inevitably have to go at some point during those two hours given the massive amount of diet coke you've drank even before the previews are complete. But I just like sitting there, enveloped in the darkness, engrossed in the movie, not wanting to miss a thing. Plus, I am an utter dork about returning to my seat if I do leave. I always have this mini-panic attack walking back in, like I'm not going to find whoever I came with, as if the layout of the theatre changed in the time it took for me to go and there's a hidden camera somewhere about to capture my humiliation at not knowing how to quickly and quietly get back to where I had been only moments before.

But at the State Theatre, my city's downtown movie house, it's a whole different deal. I'm all about making sure I get to the basement bathroom at least once, possibly twice, during my visit. Even last night, while watching the Sean Penn movie Milk, which definitely had my attention, I didn't just shift in my seat and cross my legs like I normally would -- I got up, walked through the lobby and headed downstairs.

If you have never heard of or been to the State, you likely have no clue why I'd necessarily leave an Oscar-nominated film to check out a theatre's bathrooms - let alone blog about it. Actually, even if you have heard about the place, you may still be wondering what's so great about the bathroom -- a bathroom in the basement nonetheless. But if you grew up in Traverse City like I did, you just might be saying, "Oh, yeah, those bathrooms are cool!"

Walking downstairs at the State instantly takes me back to 1985, when a movie poster hung on the wall announcing that Coming Soon! was some new movie about time travel starring that guy from Family Ties. I wish I remembered all the movies I saw at the State as a kid - I know there were quite a few - but mostly I just remember being in junior high, when it was the place to hang out and make out.

I'm pretty sure it's where I held hands with a boy I liked for the very first time. (I think the movie was Legal Eagles, a Robert Redford-Darryl Hannah-Debra Winger dud that I'm not even sure why I wanted to see given that I was in maybe in fifth or sixth grade at the time...Maybe it was because it starred that actress who was a mermaid? I don't remember anything about this movie, other than I had sweaty palms in the beginning as I wondered if and when Joey Farrell's fingers would ever touch mine outside of the popcorn container.)

The theatre itself, including a sweeping balcony and the rows of seats down low, are gorgeously re-stored after a longtime-coming renovation of this downtown landmark built in 1918. But the bathrooms? They likely got some sprucing up, but look the same as they ever did, which is just fine with me. The tiled floors and walls of the "sitting room," even the mirror hanging above the tiled bench, are all how I remember them. At the bottom of the stairs I take it all in, and I swear I can almost see my 13-year-old self standing with my girlfriends dabbing on lip gloss and ratting our bangs before spraying our hair with Aquanet.

This morning, we took our kids to the State, to see the clever flick Nanny McPhee. You can't beat the admission price to these 10:30 a.m. matinees: 25 cents. But even greater is the thrill I get from taking my kids to a place that's part of my childhood story. The older I get, it seems, the more I appreciate my hometown and really want my kids to get to know just how cool it is themselves.

Down in those bathrooms this weekend, I overheard an interesting conversation that proved I'm far from alone in carrying with me memories of the State.

"Oh, it's such a treat to be here," a woman appearing in her 60s or 70s told her friend. "I remember coming here with my friends, and we'd stay right on through the first movie and watch a second. Then we'd walk home to my house on 14th Street..."

The women continue talking about the theatre, how wonderful it is to see it come back to life. I couldn't agree more.

The State is home to the Traverse City Film Festival, which celebrates its 5th year this summer, July 28-Aug. 2. Check out the web site for Film Fest info as well as movie times and admission prices. You can also order tickets online.

What's your status?

"I'm on Facebook. Are you?"

It was nearly a year ago when a friend ended an email to me with this question. I was surprised she'd asked since it didn't seem like her kind of thing, this online social media stuff which back then I associated with college students, that generation for whom I babysat, those kids who downloaded music that if I were listen to would suddenly make me -- me! -- feel old. I also figured FB was more a spot to score hook-ups (or worse, thanks to those icky news reports of child molesters scouring online sites like MySpace).

My friend -- a beautiful, smart, classy woman who reminds me of Carolyn Bessette Kennedy -- certainly didn't fit the profile. Even after she told me she was on FB, I told myself I probably wouldn't ever go there, wouldn't be one of those people who seemingly get so tech-driven that they choose cyber interactions over the real-live kind. Emailing, texting, a writers' online forum - those were enough for me.

But Facebook kept popping up in conversation. "It's great!" my poised friend assured me. And then other friends -- intelligent, thoughtful, same-age-as-me friends -- started telling me the same. "You can share pictures of your kids...You can find long-lost friends you haven't seen in ages -- people you really want to find again!"

So, what's a girl like me to do? I'm cut from the curious cloth, after all, so what in the world was I waiting for? Shouldn't I find out for myself what all the fuss was about? So I did.

Now, I could be wrong, but I think Facebook and me, we're past the honeymoon phase. So I think I'm safe to share thoughts about this incredibly delicious time-suck without sounding overly excited and naive. I've gone through the initial overwhelm, the subsequent confusion, the surprising stings, the absolute awe and the tiring addiction. What I haven't reached, though I'm sure it's not far off, is what a friend so eloquently describes as "The Facebook Plateau." (Though even she acknowledged it was probably just the peach schnapps talking when she typed that status update...which reminds me, drunk facebooking = bad idea. Or so I've, um, heard.)

What stands out most to me, about three months into FB, is the sheer amount of people joining in. And I don't think this is really a case of me coming late to the party. I believe Facebook is spreading like wildfire, among people of all ages. Actually, it's pretty true if you look at the numbers: 150 million people across the globe are Facebook users as of Jan. 7, 2009, with half of these people logging in every day (yep, me included). Not bad for a 5-year-old site initially created by a Harvard whiz who wanted a simple way for his classmates to post profiles, browse or search for fellow students, view uploaded pictures and share their affiliations and interests. You can read more about 24-year-old Mark Zuckerberg's amazing feat here.

I wonder sometimes if Facebook's allure will fade, if we all won't tire of it and end up wondering what we were on when we spent so much time telling our network we're "busy folding whites," "watching the game," "excited about a kid-free night out!" or "about to sit down with a glass of wine." Will we think it's strange that we chose hanging out virtually (i.e. spying on our "friends") over in-person conversation with our neighbors, our kids, our partners?

And what about those status updates anyway? Does anyone else feel the pressure of being at your wittiest, your funniest, your best when you post something? I read a very clever article recently by Los Angeles writer Patricia Beauchamp about status envy. Here's a snippet of that article, the entirety of which you can read here:

"The underlying truism to the saying 'The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence' is that appearances are deceiving. But since Facebook has added a new level of voyeurism to surveying your neighbor's yard, I find myself wondering, more than I would like to, whether other people's lives really are better. After all, we have access to our friends' photos, videos and correspondence -- most everything but their tax returns -- which tend to support whatever claims they're making. If Casey's update says she "is living in paradise, being waited on hand and foot by a league of celebrity look-alikes," chances are that pictures will follow."

But, still. Let me say this: I find Facebook incredible cool, and honestly think it's pretty genius. Here are just a few reasons why:

* I'm truly feeling more connected with people who live in the same city as me. It's not that I don't want to talk with friends and family in person, it's just that none of us has the time! Now, yes, I still gab with friends in real life at coffee shops and restaurants. I see my parents and in-laws on a regular basis. I am not a hermit crab sitting in my pjs, staring at a computer screen all day long (at least, not most days). But, all that said, I now know more about what my friends and family are up to, are interested in and are talking about because of Facebook. They share what they want to share online, and I do the same. It's simple, it's easy, it's done on our own time. And it ends up enhancing our face-to-face time.

* There was a reason I was great friends with certain people from my past. Who is to know if I ever would have really made amends with one of my high school BFFs if it wasn't for Facebook (time and maturity has helped too, yes). Somehow, sharing photos of our kids and updating each other on our lives online has eased the silly-yet-real pain we caused each other all those years ago. Cheers to that!

* I never wanted to lose touch with some individuals - but life happens. I felt like I hit a Facebook jackpot the night I connected with friends I had while working at my college newspaper. I'm not kidding you when I say I felt like I unlocked a part of myself that desperately needed to be dusted off when I found these people and caught up with them. I was reminded why I went into the profession I am in and how these people were there when I was discovering this important part of myself.

* It's a new way of networking. Lately I've been intrigued by how we can help one another grow our businesses, whether we're working for a company or for ourselves. I love how people are posting their ventures and asking others to become "fans." Writer friends share links to their articles as well as suggest things to read. Good for us, I say. I suppose as a writer I am especially interested in new and different things happening in the world, but I think we all are. We all like to be connected, to know what's going on, especially when it comes to people we know. Facebook gives us that opportunity. And even non-businesses can get a boost --like my book club. A few of us have been talking lately about how we can discuss books in between gatherings via Facebook, now that we're all online. That's a pretty cool thing.

I can only imagine things will get even more interesting on Facebook as time goes on. One thing I think about is how we'll handle our kids wanting to open an account. So far, we deal with whose turn it is to play Webkinz when it comes to computer usage. But that will change soon enough, I know.

What do you love most about Facebook? What could you do without? And most importantly, What are you doing right now?

**UPDATE: Came across this funny video about Facebook etiquette today...**

Best magazine cover of the new year?

In the spirit of our upcoming historic presidential inauguration, I couldn't resist sharing this. And, a healthy debate is always a good thing in life, wouldn't you agree?

The following comes from a news release I received today from an editor contact of mine at Ms. magazine. I'll save my opinion for the end of this post...

Special Inaugural Ms. Issue Stirs Buzz & Debate

Ms. magazine’s new special inaugural issue has stirred up a lot of excitement—and some controversy. The striking cover by illustrator Tim O’Brien shows President-elect Obama opening his suit, Superman-style, to reveal the iconic “This is What a Feminist Looks Like” T-Shirt. Playing on the existing superhero imagery around the president-elect—who has himself joked “I was actually born on Krypton”--the cover reflects both the national and feminist mood of high expectations and hope as the 44th President of the United States takes the oath of office.

“This cover speaks for itself—we’re proud the president-elect identifies as a feminist,” says Ms. Executive Editor Katherine Spillar.

The cover has drawn acclaim on feminist blogs such as Feministe and Jezebel, where posted comments call it “awesome,” “inspirational” and “fantastic,” and one feminist says, “It shows pride in using the word feminist instead of derision that we’ve had for years.”

And feminist author Naomi Wolf went on CNN to defend the cover, saying, “Ms. sensibly [and] very obviously points out that this is what a feminist looks like.”

But it’s also stirred up a firestorm from PUMA PAC, a group that pledges to watchdog the Obama administration. They’ve launched an email and phone campaign to tell us “how laughable and insulting it is for [Ms.] to claim that Obama is a feminist.”

We at Ms. stand by our cover and embrace the opportunity to affirm that men can be feminists, too. Obama—who ran on the strongest platform for women's rights of any major party in U.S. history—self-identifies a feminist. Of course, we’re not wearing rose-colored glasses. As Ms. publisher Eleanor Smeal says in a Huffington Post editorial: “We are not giving President-Elect Obama a blank check. For our hopes to be achieved, we must speak out and organize, organize, organize to enable our new president's team to achieve our common goals. Ultimately, we must hold our leaders' feet to the fire, or to put it more positively, uplift them when they are caught in the crosscurrents of competing interests.” (See http://www.huffingtonpost.com/eleanor-smeal/this-is-what-a-feminist-l_b_157531.html)In this spirit, the editors of Ms. asked feminist leaders, experts, and activists—along with our readers—to share their visions of what must be done to move forward at this extraordinary time. Statements from Kim Gandy, bell hooks, Margaret Cho, Alice Walker, Ani DiFranco, Cynthia Enloe, Dolores Huerta, the editors of Feministing.com, and many others are in the current issue of Ms. and at http://msmagazine.com/winter2009/VisionOfChange_quotes.asp.

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What I like best? That a man can indeed, rightfully be called a feminist. Way to go, Ms. magazine.

What do you think?