Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

My Perspectives. My Reality.

For those of you semi-new to this blog, I have something to share: I used to call myself a runner.

I started running in the fall of 2009 (after swearing for years that I hated running) and through October of 2009 - May 2010 I entered into and completed 2 - 5K's (3.1 miles), 1 - 4.5 mile event, and a mini marathon in Indianapolis (13.1 miles).  (I made a video of that last one and posted it here.  Sorry - because of the music I used I couldn't put it on YouTube...so you have to be my friend on Facebook to view it.  That sounds kind of sad, doesn't it?  you have to be my friend.  Sheesh.  Send me a email (see the sidebar for my address)  if you aren't already there......)

After the mini marathon, I kept up weekly runs.  For about a week.

Then the reasons and excuses started flooding in.  Our son finished school, which meant paying for 2 kids for daycare at the YMCA if we wanted to go there.  The temps outside soared past 95 degrees F almost every day and didn't get much lower than about 80 degrees in the evening.  To be completely honest, through June and July, I ran maybe twice.

This morning, I remembered something very very important.

I am a runner.

It doesn't matter if I haven't run in months.  It doesn't matter if I never enter an event again.  It doesn't matter how slow I go or if I have to or choose to walk or what gear I have to adorn myself.

My perspectives create my reality.

And so, this morning, hubby and I took our daughter out in the jogging stroller and ran.  I went maybe 2 miles.  It was blissfully difficult.  And deliciously rewarding.

As I sit here recovering (mostly from more yummy yoga poses over the past few days), I am reminded of that fundamental belief that structures my days.  My perspectives create my reality.

I will paint today - even if I never sell a thing - because I am an artist.
I will find my running shoes again - even if only once every so often - because I am a runner.
I will kiss all over my children and discipline them when they slam their doors because I am a mother.
I will sit and share a glass of wine with my husband and discuss our days because I am a wife.
I will pull out my yoga mat and remember a 3-part breath in line at the groccery store because I am a yogini.
I will cry and yell and bitch and complain and falter and fumble because I am human.
I will always find my peaceful smile again after it all because I am part of divinity.

My perspectives are as such.  They will change.  I choose those perspectives and am blessed to do so consciously.

I define them (what does it mean to be a mommy?  a yogini?  an artist?) and they then define me.  I play with the definitions all of the time.  That's part of the fun of life.  

Now I think I need to go tend to my poor knees.  Eh, that's part of life too.