Space, The Middle Frontier

In my last blog, I mentioned a Buddhist saying that I like: “Between the stimulus and our response is the space in which lies our power and freedom.” I was listening to one of Tara Brach’s audio talks this morning, as I do several times a week before getting out of bed. (You can find them here, or you can subscribe to her podcast.) I find it starts my day in a mind frame of compassion for both myself and the world, which sticks with me even through rush hour…some days.

The talk I listened to this morning was from December 14 called “The Dance of Relational Trance.” From the description on the website: “When we become emotionally reactive in our relationships, we often go into a trance that creates separation and locks us into a narrow sense of self. This talk explores how, by pausing and deepening our attention, we can reconnect with the wisdom of our hearts.”

Tara conducted an exercise in which we were to close our eyes and think of a situation that happens often, one in which we react immediately in a usual emotional way. I called to mind a situation with someone I’m close to in which I often feel misunderstood or dissed. My reaction is to say things that aren’t true to my heart to make that person “like me” again. Tara then had us invite into our minds someone wise (the Dalai Lama, Jesus, our grandmothers, Yoda) and think about what they’d say to us in that space between the stimulus and our response. At the end of the exercise, Tara said that the advice we imagined came from our own highest self, that when we are caught in a trance of reactivity, we have the intuition within ourselves to respond in a wiser and kinder way.

I turned off my iPod and started thinking about the new eating plan I wanted to develop for myself. That got me thinking about a particular situation with food in which I get caught in a reactionary trance. It goes something like this: I get done working at the soup kitchen or I get done working out and it’s time to eat. I might have a salad in mind or a veggie burger. Innocent enough. But what happens while I’m making the salad or burger is that I start justifying. “You burned 300 calories! (Or in the case of the soup kitchen, I stood for 5 hours.) You can add an extra tablespoon of almonds and dressing and, oh yes, put on a few more croutons. They don’t add up to a whole slice of bread, it doesn’t matter.” Before I know it, my salad is overflowing or my burger has so many added condiments and side dishes that all the calories I just burned are now going right back in, with no doubt a few extras in there as well.  

I called upon my wiser self for advice and discovered two old patterns of behavior working:

1) In my trance state, I’ve somehow convinced myself that I’ve maintained my weight so long that I don’t need to keep track of everything that goes in my mouth. My wise self knows better. The only possible way to maintain is to be constantly mindful of everything I eat and how much. I’m not beating myself up for falling into this mindset, but I’m definitely guiding myself back to tracking and, more importantly, revisiting the reasons why losing weight in the first place was so important to me. (I’ll be digging out old journals and rereading some old blogs this week!)

2) In my trance state, I shove food in my mouth because it keeps me from thinking about how busy I am and all the things I have to accomplish in a day, a week, a month, a semester. I love the saying, “If hunger isn’t the problem, food isn’t the answer.” My wise self says to use the space between stimulus and response to feel the anxiety rather than run away from it. Wise self promises it won’t be as bad as I think.

My wise self also reminded me to follow my own best advice: How will I feel five minutes after eating this? If my answer is “I will feel great, like I’ve made a good choice!” then I will eat it. If the answer is “I wish I hadn’t eaten that,” I will let it go.
I love how every day can be a fresh start. It doesn’t matter what choices I made yesterday. What matters is what I chose right now, in this moment. And right now, in this moment, I need to get this blog posted because I have to wash my hair and get ready to do a Meals on Wheels route and…and…remind myself that shoving something in my mouth other than the omelet and toast I made and consumed 30 minutes ago will not in any way change the fact that I’m facing a busy morning on snow-covered roads. Stimulus…space…wiser, kinder response.

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The Mysterious Middle (guest post).

I fear I may never learn the art of moderation.  I seem wired to either behave in one extreme or the opposing other.  In other words, I have no concept of the middle.

In my past, I struggled with addiction and all the fun stuff that entails–hopelessness, turmoil, shame…and obviously, no exercise.  But since February of 2002, I’ve been one of the fortunate ones who has managed to stay away from that melancholy condition and spend my days in the opposite extreme—a life of sobriety—and for me, consequently, a life of running and marathons.

Three months into my recovery, my husband (who was my partner in crime and also has nine-plus years) and I had a surprise: I got pregnant with our first daughter.

Quoting from one of my own blog posts, “I often think of her as an angel sent to save us…I’m pretty positive that without her, Chad and I wouldn’t have this nine-year chunk of sobriety.”  And then I go on to explain how I started running: “I was antsy from being a stay-at-home mommy.  And an only one-year-eleven-months-sober mommy at that.  No evening glass of wine to unwind with.  No mother’s little helper.  I needed a goal.  And for whatever reason, I came up with running a marathon.”

And my polar tendencies kicked in.  I went from unhealthy addict to running mom.  From 2004—2010, I ran ten marathons, along with various other races to help prepare for those marathons.  (And we also had our second daughter, where I took a one-year break from running.)  I became the typical runner—weekly runs, long runs, track workouts, my running group, etc… Like many runners, the sport became a bit consuming for me.  (Know any runners but aren’t one yourself?  Are we ever obsessed or kind of annoying sometimes?  For sure.)

In the thick of my pastime, in May of 2009, I severely ruptured my L4/L5 disc at a roller skating birthday party and had to undergo surgery, removing 50% of the disc material that had exploded into my spinal canal.  The surgery was a success, and I resumed my running only a few months later.

But something was different; the intensity was gone.  I wasn’t as into it, because when I say the surgery was successful, I mean that it cured my scary sciatica symptoms–but I was still left with a half-disc that would turn out to only be able to handle two more years of running.

As the “regular” back pain began to set in, so did the realization that my days as a runner were numbered.  Half a disc at age 37, along with two other bulging ones, isn’t like tendonitis or other common running injuries.  We’re talking my spine and it’s future as I get older.  Therefore, I came up with the grand finale plan of switching gears and ending my racing with an ironman triathlon.  And six months ago, I went out with a bang, participating in Ironman Texas.  Since then, I’ve been retired from the world of running and races.

It wasn’t as dramatic or devastating as I thought it would be.  I was bummed, for sure, but I had to quit to protect my shaky back.  I suppose I used AA’s Serenity Prayer–“to accept the things I cannot change.”  Also, it’s been really nice to sleep in on Sundays instead of always waking up early for some long run or bike ride!  And nice to not have some future event hanging over me, always on my mind.

So when Carla met me in October and invited me to be a guest writer on her blog, she was catching me in my present, opposite extreme—no exercise.

Zilch.

A rut.

I had planned to get super into Bikram yoga, but so far I’ve only dabbled with it and then haven’t been back lately.  I also had planned to take our sweet, wild pit bull mix on longer walks, but so far she’s still just getting the same, short route around our street.

What was I going to write about!  I guess this struggle with understanding the middle.

What am I talking about—the middle?  In terms of exercising, I mean this place of just working out.  Not needing to conquer something or feel an intense accomplishment.  No goals, no finish lines.  Just enjoying the moment.

But I went from zero exercise to training for a marathon.  To training for more marathons.  To training for an ironman.  “Training” I get.  But “exercising”?  I’m unfamiliar with it.  I’m not responding to it.  Can I do this exercising?  So far, no.  I couldn’t just go to Bikram yoga a few times a week.  I had to be typical me, making big plans of a 60-day challenge and someday teacher training.

But instead, I totally flaked and have barely been the past two months–still paying the monthly auto-pay, though, that I set up because I just knew I was going to go so much.  Such a spaz.

Come on, Sarah.  Cut it out with the extremes, the all-or-nothing.  On the wagon or off are not the only choices.  (Except in recovery.) 

There is a middle.  Find that middle.  Learn to appreciate this mysterious place—one of humility, contentment and gratitude.  And take your poor dog on longer walks.

Wish me luck!   

Sarah Broyles is a stay-at-home mom with a history of marathons and triathlons.  She lives in Austin, TX with her husband, two daughters, one pug, one pit bull mix and a cat.  Her favorite food is icing, and her favorite drink is a Venti bold coffee, no room, from Starbucks.

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