A Spirited Life

A Case for Healthy Sloth

2012-02-17T12:03:00.000-08:00

Lastnight I slept long and well. Eight and a half hours of rest, laced with aninteresting dream or two. I awoke to the patter of rain on the bedroom windowsand stretched lazily in a winter nest of flannel and down. I marveled at my long sleep and assuredmyself it was good for my health.

Andyet, the sense of luxury that warmed my waking thoughts was quickly chilled bya shadow of guilt. Unbidden, an inventory of concerns scrolled through my mind:Was this long, indulgent sleep a warning sign of winter depression? A dangerousdalliance with sloth? Am I growing lazy, or bored, or irresponsible? In an instant, my mind transformed aluxury into a potential problem.

Give the Early Bird a Break

Now,after two mugs of Irish breakfast tea and a bowl of oatmeal, here I am, awake,alert, and full of words. Isn’t this what I want every day? I’m thinking theproblem may not be too much sleep, but too much history. Residual expectations,shaped by the past demands of a buzzing alarm clock still color my response tomornings. I’m pursued by the shadows of personal history that shaped my imageof a successful, productive life. It’s an image that holds little tolerance forlolling late in bed.

The pattern started early, with the schedules of schooling, student jobs, newspaperdeadlines. Even later, when my work hours were set by personal goals anddeadlines, rather than a newspaper job, I maintained a firm schedule ofexercise and writing. Nine to noon at the desk, every day.

Thiswinter, without a book project on my desk, I find myself able to flirt with thefreedom of natural rhythms. It isn’t as easy as it seems. Old patterns whipme with a backlash of doubt on mornings of late risings or aimlessputtering. But today, the whip hasroused a feisty spirit. “Loosen up,” it chortles with rebellious glee. “Giveme a break, okay? I’m happy, rested, and dancing with the muse. Isn't this what I want from life? If this issloth, give me more of the same.”

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On the Trail Again

2012-02-07T16:56:00.000-08:00

Jubilation!Legs and arms in motion! I’m back on the trail again, celebrating restoredmobility after the limitations of a broken arm and fall-related jointcomplaints.

Lastweek, on two days of dazzling sunshine (an unexpected joy in the midst of aPacific Northwest winter), I strapped on snowshoes and joined my husband formodest treks through snow-draped forests of the Cascade Range. We selectedroutes with gentle slopes and set short goals for each outing. The purpose, afterall, was not distance but an assessment of physical stability. For me, the routeled to an exciting destination—a restored sense of ease and comfort in my body and a revived zest for life.

Honestly,I’m trying to be reasonable about this joyous freedom from pain. I want tocarry it through a steady progression of training for the 137-mile distancehike I’ve signed up for in August. Still, it’s hard to stifle my delight inbeing back on my feet.

Balancing on Big Feet

Onthis first outing of the winter, I shuffled cautiously through an introductoryperiod of re-familiarization with snowshoes. After 15 or 20 minutes ofacclimation on the packed snow trail, I settled into a comfortable pace, guidedby the rhythmic cadence set by my cross-country ski poles. Two steps per poleplant. Breath and poles meshed in an easy pattern as I advanced deeper into thewintry stillness of the forest.

Then, almost immediately as soon as I releasedconcerns about balance, or the warmth of the gloves I’d selected, I foundmyself miles away from the sparkling beauty spread before me. My mind beganreviewing the menu for dinner that evening with friends. Moments later, it wassorting out the wardrobe for an upcoming trip. You know how it goes!

Muttering in the Forest

In the silence of this forest, the loudestintrusion on tranquility loomed in my own mind. “One-two, one-two,” I countered,choosing to stop the repetitious cycle of mental ruminations by mentallycounting my steps. “One-two, one-two,” correcting mycourse on the trail. The focused count pulled me back on track to thedestination I value most when I walk—a place of peace in myself. Even ina setting of quiet beauty, it’s amazing how difficult it can be to get myhead in the same location as my feet. “One-two, one-two.” One moment at a time.

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Heel, Ball, Heel, Ball: Abracadabra for Walkers

2012-01-26T08:00:00.000-08:00

“Looks like you’re limping a bit,” my husband observed as we walked aneighborhood sidewalk. My mind had floated off to other matters and I wasn’taware of an imbalance in my steps. Now, with my attention on my body, I couldfeel a twinge of subtle protest in my right hip.

“Heel, ball, heel, ball,” I chanted mentally,bringing full focus to my feet. “Heel, ball, heel, ball,” letting the wordsguide each foot to a solid, smooth connection with the path. The relief wasalmost immediate. No jarring, no limping, no pain.

“Heel, ball, heel, ball.” I continued, invoking awalkers’ abracadabra—a magic phrase that restores posture, balance, and evenenergy. In recent weeks, I’ve relied on skilled body workers to nudge and kneadmy skeletal structure into alignment following a fall. To sustain their efforts, I’ve returned to the basics of walking.

First, Get Grounded

Walking begins with getting on your feet, but oncewe get moving we quickly forget how vital those feet are in maintaining supportand comfort for the rest of the body. So, give this a try, and see!

At the beginning of a walk, a few mental repetitionsof “heel, ball, heel, ball” will help you set out in good walking form. Each stepbegins at the back of your foot and rolls smoothly forward, to the ball.Consciously feel the ground beneath your feet. “Heel, ball, heel, ball, heel,ball.”

Alas, Not Me

Your mind will move on to other thoughts or dreamsor conversations, which is fine. But if you begin to notice a sense of fatigue,or discomfort as you walk, try another dose of “heel, ball, heel, ball.” Maybeyou’ve let your posture slump. Maybe your steps have slipped into a plod,pounding the ground with heavy impact. See what happens if you simply restoreawareness of your feet for a few seconds.

No matter how much or how little you walk, you’re likely to experience aphysical complaint at some point—a stiff knee, a kink in your neck, a strain inthe lower back. Such walking complaints may relate to posture. And posturebegins in the feet. “Heel, ball, heel, ball."
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Arm Bone’s Connected to the Thigh Bone

2012-01-16T22:10:00.000-08:00

Justbefore Christmas, I received a welcome holiday gift from the medicaltechnician who guided a power saw through the plaster cast on my left arm.Liberation! X-rays had disclosed healthy new growth around the bone I crackedin a November fall.

Yes,yes...there was still a removable brace to wear as my muscles remembered how toflex and bend after a month of immobility. But the brace seemed a minorlimitation in my dash to reclaim full access to a healthy, active body.

Armed for Action

I started with reasonable caution. A few sessions ofdeep-water jogging before moving on to a 2.5-mile neighborhood walk. Then, ahike on a local mountain trail, giving my restored left fist the test of ahiking stick. My pace was slow and my wrist was weary by the time I completedthe circuit. It was a good tired. A sign that my body was rebuilding.

Byevening, I could feel tightness hardening at the back of my knees. By morning, Igrimaced as I climbed the stairs to my study. I began to sensethat there was more to mend in my body than the crack in my ulna.

CommonSense, Common Forgetfulness

Common sense prompts us to deal with the obvious injuries first in anaccident, but eventually, it’s pain that turns our focus to the secondary consequences of an injury. Turns out, in this case, the arm bone connected to the thigh bone.

Arm bone connected to the head zone

Myleft arm took the lead in this fall, but ribs and hips came tumbling after. Mywhole skeleton felt the impact, and shifted a bit in response. I’m back in reflect and recovery mode now, slowly (ever so slowly!) restoring the physical alignment that keeps themoving parts of my aging body moveable.

Onceagain, it’s taken a setback to restore consciousness. Normally, andquite happily, I take for granted the wholeness, and delicate balances, thatsustain my skeletal framework, my mood, and my zest for life.

Today,in addition to impatience and frustration, I acknowledge the wholeness (anddelicate balances) of my being—body, mind, and spirit: arm bone connects tothe thigh bone; thigh bone connects to the head zone; head zone links tothe heart tone; etc, etc, etc…and so the spirit heals.

With Goals, It's Not What, But How

2012-01-03T22:36:00.000-08:00

New Year’s resolutions are a well-established tradition for millions of us. And, why not? It’s a fine time for an annual review of achievements and aspirations. If you’d like to increase your odds of turning this year’s aspirations into next year’s achievements, take a look at HOW you state your goals.

“Action goals energize us, results goals worry us,” advised sports psychologist Shane Murphy, when I interviewed him for The Spirited Walker. HOW you set a goal can be more important than WHAT you set. Action goals provide stepping stones that lead you to results, says Murphy. Without them, the path to achieving what you want is vague. It’s easy to veer off course.

Goals that Energize

Here’s an example of a results goal: In 2012, I will get fit.

Here’s an action goal: In 2012, I will exercise for a minimum of 30 minutes five days a week. The action goal offers clear steps that you can measure and will lead to increased fitness.

Another Results Goal: In 2012, I will be less cranky and more cheerful.

Action Goal: In 2012, I will write at least two things a day that I appreciate in a gratitude notebook.

Do you see the difference? An action goal gives you a plan. A results goal by-passes the HOW and leaves you without a clear route to success. Both pieces are essential for an effective map.

England's Coast to Coast Hike

Now, here's a goal that’s personal:

Result goal: This year I will successfully complete a 12-day, 130-mile walk across England. (Really! I'm making plans for August!)
The action goal that will help me succeed: In 2012, I will hike Mt Pisgah four times a month. Mt Pisgah is 1.8 miles of uphill climb in a nearby park. With a pause at the top for water and the view. roundtrip takes me a little over an hour and provides both a workout for the body and renewal for the soul. These hikes, along with my routine exercise program, will help me rebuild strength and stamina after the setback of a broken arm in November. Without the action goal, the result I seek is unlikely.

Make More than a Passing Nod

Make your resolutions more than a passing nod at things you want either to give up or to get hold of in the coming year. Strengthen clarity and commitment, by writing your goals down. Then, look at them carefully to confirm that you are identifying both the What and the How with action steps that lead to the results you seek.
Both The Spirited Walker and Healing Walks for Hard Times include encouragement and practical guidelines for goal setting. Check the index in either book. Sign up for email alerts about new blog posts for help in sustaining commitment and action.

The Weather Outside is Frightful!

2011-12-28T23:29:00.000-08:00

Heavy rains pelted the high windows above my bed this morning, awakening me to murky skies and a stormy threat. Every instinct urged me to pull the comforter over my ears and drift back into the safety of sleep.

Clearly, this did not bode well for my familiar neighborhood walk. Not a good day to hike the trails of my beloved Mt Pisgah or stride along the bike path by the river. It was instead, as we say in Oregon, a fine day for ducks. I hovered under protective cover as gusts of wind surged against the house. I pondered other options. But holiday indulgences weighed on my conscience when I considered a day off from exercise.

Take the Plunge

Better to get really wet and get it over, I decided. Take the plunge and move on! I packed my gym bag and headed for the swimming pool at the athletic club.

Although water seems not to be my natural element, I have discovered that it produces a healthy variation in my exercise program. For many years, I resorted to pool workouts only when an aching joint or athletic injury forced me off my feet for a break from dry-land exercise. Now, I attempt to include one water workout a week in my routine in recognition of the benefits derived from a change of motion.

A buoyant waist belt holds my head above water as I “jog” through 30-minutes of deep-water laps, but it’s my mind that keeps me moving. Simple focusing tools, like counting my “steps” or singing in my head help deflect the mental distractions that tempt me to cut a water workout short. (It’s boring in the pool!) With an eye on the clock, I push myself through a few 60-second speed burst, rotated with recovery laps. Then, I throw in a lap of cross-country skiing. The change of pace invigorates both body and mind.

Foul Weather Fitness

Adverse weather renews my commitment to athletic cross training. Left to my own desires, I’d prefer a walk or hike any day, but when I trade a walk for a deep-water jog I reap the benefits of a renegotiated truce with tight muscles and well-used knees. It’s a worthy effort on nasty days, but if this rain continues tomorrow, I’ll suit up and face the weather on foot, like a true Oregon Duck.

A Light for all Seasons

2011-12-16T15:42:00.001-08:00

I’ve strung bright bulbs on the branches at my front door, but even this radiant glow can’t stall the steady approach of the longest night of the year. Here in the Northwest where I live, the season ushers in overcast skies and somber weather—a time when light becomes a treasured commodity.

Flickr Photo by Zhang

At this time of year, I am reminded of my friend Linda who found a light that brightened every day when she entered a personal season of darkness. This darkness descended, not with the turning of calendar pages, but a slow slurring in her speech. Medical consultations identified the loss of control in her vocal cords as an early symptom of an unstoppable, degenerative disease.

A corporate trainer and vigorous athlete, she responded to the diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis—also known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease—by strapping on her rollerblades for a five-day distance event. She wanted to move while she still could. As the disease progressed, her steps grew slow and uncertain. She walked her in neighborhood with braces wrapping her legs, and an arm held firmly by her husband. And as she walked, she looked for evidence of light along her path.

“I feel as if I am still normal when I am out walking in nature,” she told me in an e-mail message, written after she had lost the ability to speak.

“What I love the most about nature is the light. Everywhere I look, even on darker days, there is light reflecting something positive someplace. I just need to look around. As I walk, I seek to follow the light,” she said. Linda’s emails grew into an interview in Healing Walks for Hard Times.

Following The Light

This morning I took a walk with Linda. No longer present in body, she lives strong and vibrant in my head, reminding me how light still emerges, even when days seem shrouded in gray. How it lightens the tassels on decorative grasses in a neighbor’s yard. Or brightens bare branches of a birch. How it pulls my gaze to an overturned leaf lying at my feet.

The search for light stretches into a game that carries me through half an hour of mindful walking, intentionally choosing to focus on the light around me rather than ruminating on the shadows in my mind. Like most of us, I find it natural and automatic to fixate on the challenges or shadows that drop into my path. I want to solve the problem. Eliminate the pain. But taking a break from that fixation can expand perspective with a reminder to see a broader picture.

Why don’t you try it and see? A search for the light that brightens your walk may carry you on an internal journey that illuminates other corners of your life as well. And at this time of year, it reminds us of life cycles, and the longer days and lighter walks that wait beyond the Winter Solstice.

Broken Arm, Battered Vision

2011-12-06T22:22:00.000-08:00

Three weeks ago, I missed a step as I bounded upstairs to the EFX machines at the fitness center. My morning schedule was tight—just time for an efficient workout, a shower, and then off to my writing class. At the top of the stairs, I took a step that wasn’t there. Momentum threw my body forward, into a heap at the base of the water cooler. X-rays disclosed a crack in the ulna, near the wrist of my left hand—a minor break in medical terms but a resounding fracture in my personal wellbeing.

As I waited for emergency room staff to wrap the arm in a protective splint, I felt the pain of an ominous pattern. Just three years ago I broke a bone in this same forearm—a different bone, but in a similar fall. That break brought heightened awareness of the fragility that has seeped into my skeleton as a consequence of years and life experiences. A thin frame, genetics, cancer-related chemotherapy, and lifestyle choices have meshed in a brittleness that I set out to amend with prescriptions and precaution.

No “Good as New” in Sight

Now, a second break delivers a curt reminder of the path I’m walking at this point in life. I wear a cast and wait for this bone to knit a new bond, as I nurse an ache more painful than the crack in my arm. I am suffering a crack in my self-image. There’s no “good as new” in range any longer. No pretending I might reclaim the physical resilience I once savored as I danced though high impact aerobics classes and swirled my hips to claim race-walking medals. Day by day I seem to be breaking trail on the arduous route of age.

Past experiences—health, relationships, career—have provided ample evidence of my ability to rebound from challenges, hardships and falls. I know that this season of fear and diminishment will loose its hold as new growth appears. My spirit will bound again. Still, a sense of loss accompanies this stealthy erosion of physical robustness and confidence. Right now, it feels appropriate to grieve the burden of wariness that hovers, like a protective parent, following me up and down the stairwell in my home. Today, the grief is real.

An Encounter with “Chi” on my Path

2011-11-17T12:30:00.000-08:00

"Kor-chee,” I say when someone stumbles on the cluster of consonants that group together as my last name. “K-O-R, -T as in Tom, -G as in Girl, -E. Kor-chee.” Then I shrug in apology. “It’s my husband’s name. It takes getting used to.”

I’ve been getting used to it long enough to recognize the look of helplessness on the face of a receptionist calling me in for an appointment. Or a restaurant host, scanning my name on a waiting list. It takes only the tentative, initial “kuh” to bring me to my feet. I’ve learned to anticipate the questions.

“Kor-chee,” I prompt. “It’s Germanic in origin but the spelling has morphed over the years.” I try to ease the awkwardness of a surname that baffles everyone except those born to it.

When I went to work as a journalist, I tried to buffer the challenge of “Kortge” by inserting my maiden name in article by-lines: by Carolyn Scott Kortge. ‘Scott,’ I thought, offered a transition between an easy first name and an unpronounceable last. I bore the weight of Kortge as a marital burden—a hardship assumed by a young bride who simply never considered standing fast with the surname of Scott.

The Perfect Name?

Then, a few years ago, I was teaching a week of Spirited Walker® classes at a California resort when a participant came up to me with a warm smile. “You know, Carolyn,” she said, “You have the perfect name!” I gaped at her in confusion. Where on earth was this going? She could see the bewilderment in my face. “Don’t you get it?” she asked. “Your name is Core--Chi. ‘Chi’ as in life force! Core Life Force!”

Thirty plus years of marriage. Thirty plus years of spelling my name letter by letter. Of visualizing the sound just one way: “Kor-chee. With a K.” Then, in a glorious, shining moment, the weight of Kortge lifted. A burden became a gift. Core--Chi. What could be better than a surname that proclaims the truth of who I am—a woman blessed with a deep well of energy and a vigorous love of life.

Encounter Your Own Core Chi!

In this blog, it’s my goal to share that energy in ways that invite you to connect with your own core chi—the inner well of energy, purpose, and inspiration that refreshes your spirit. I’ve called this blog A Spirited Life because I want space to consider more than my interests as the author of The Spirited Walker, and Healing Walks for Hard Times. Yes, many entries will be about walking, but I’m hoping to stroll a broad landscape of topics that engage my spirit. The surprising challenges of aging (or “saging”). The satisfaction in raking autumn leaves.

I hope you’ll travel with me, and share your own discoveries in responsive comments. I hope that we’ll rejoice together at insights that rouse the senses and awaken fresh eyes, illuminating passions, dreams or surprises—the elation of core--chi hidden in Kortge.

Ready to take a walk with fresh eyes? Try these simple steps.