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 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.