Over a decade ago I was inspired by a revered and popular public figure who ran their first marathon sometime after turning 40. I said, "I'd like to do that one day - run a marathon - sometime in my 40's". Fast forward to November 3rd, 2010, and within minutes of the clock striking midnight, I cried myself to sleep. I had turned 40. My tears were not due to the actual number, but over the fact that my life didn't look like what I thought it would at this age. I was childless despite every effort not to be, and behind closed doors I was hopeless and lifeless. I had many broken dreams and a broken spirit to match.

A month after turning 40 I remembered my words all those years ago and asked my health care practitioner whether I'd be physically able to run a marathon (especially being 20kg / 45 pounds overweight), and if so - how long would I need to prepare. He replied, "12 months". I asked, "Would 11 be okay?" He nodded. That night I registered for the New York City Marathon and the next morning, I started my training program (which was written for me by an expert in aerobic endurance training). To ensure nothing stopped me from realising my dream (like luck in the lottery selection process), I registered with a charity and have a guaranteed place. I now have 9 months to go before I head to New York and realise my dream - running the marathon, three days after my 41st birthday.

This is my journey...

Thursday, 7 April 2011

A trip down memory lane...

It's 5:30am and after tossing and turning for the last half hour, I decided to get up and write this post. Perhaps getting things out of my mind and onto virtual paper will be enough to lull me back to sleep. One can hope.

Aside from breaking in my Five Fingers and hosting an international guest this last week, I have also been preparing for a garage sale. The act of going through piles of stuff and determining whether or not I am ready to let it go has always been a challenging task for me.

It's not the 'stuff' that I am attached to, it's the memories that stuff brings. It always amazes me how memories can be locked away for decades, then the smallest piece of fabric or grandparent's salt and pepper shakers can conjure up a moment in time that until that point, you'd completely forgotten about.

Perhaps I fear that if I eliminate all the stuff from my past life, I will also eliminate my nostalgic memories. Then I wonder, is that a bad thing?

Does our personal hard drive, AKA brain, have limited storage capacity? Will we suffer down the track if we clutter our minds with insignificant memories? Perhaps we ought to be selective as to what memories are worth holding onto - just like our 'stuff' - and only keep the important ones like your wedding day, favourite travel destinations and the birth of your offspring (should that apply).

Some may argue that there's no room in the present for memories. The present is all we have. Memories live in the past and the road to enlightenment is to let all of that go. But if that were so, why were we not born with the memory of a goldfish? (which I still question - how on earth does anyone determine the memory capacity of a goldfish?).

I would argue that while the present is were we are, it is not all that we have. Memories give us context and builds dimension to our characters. If the question is "What memories do we hold on to?"my answer would be "The ones that bring us comfort and joy". Though I discourage myself to dwell in memories of the past, I do enjoy indulging in nostalgic moments now and then.

Yesterday was a day of such indulgence.

After seeing my tax accountant I decided to take a drive down memory lane en route to visiting my aunt. I cruised along the street that gave me my porn star surname (in case you don't know, the name of your first pet gives you your first name and the name of the first street you lived in gives you your surname. Pleased to meet you, my name is Tweety Larlac).

I paused in front of the house in which I spent the first four years of my life. I was completely in the present moment while simultaneously being transported to joyful feelings of the past. To me, it was emotional time travel that was comforting and uplifting.

Dawn has painted the sky with her rosy fingers and I feel calmer now. Thank you for being someone I can turn to at 5:30 in the morning to talk about memories. Tomorrow's garage sale has a lot of my late grandparent's stuff and saying good bye to it is obviously having an impact on me. That's okay, I'm sure it's all part of the process of letting go. Now if only my fat cells can do the same with their excess contents and I'd really be on the road to enLIGHTenment.

Until next time, take time to embark on your own emotional garage sale. Throw out the crap memories and only hold onto the ones that are really worth something.

Grace xx

PS. Here are some other pics from my trip down memory lane...


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