During my training walks for Avon 39, I've been thinking about my feet. I really like my feet. They're not particularly beautiful. They're kind of big. They have a tendency to get dry and sore around my heels, but I like them. They're the one part of my body that's purely functional to me, the one part of my body I'm not critical, or precious, or self-conscious about. Yes, I'll dress them up with polish for fun, but ultimately I'm happy with them however they are. They've carried me through life for forty-four years and I hope they carry me through another forty-four. First, they need to carry me along my 39-mile walk in October.
I said I'd post every week about my walk training, but there hasn't been much new to say. I've mostly been doing daily three-mile walks. The longest walk I've been able to fit in is five miles. It's a challenge to find the time, but I'm planning to attempt a ten-mile walk tomorrow and one fifteen-mile walk before the big day. I figure if that feels okay, I'll be good to go. Showing up is the most important thing. I'm also proud to say I've raised $3,200 towards breast cancer research, so far. It's still not too late to donate! Just click here. I promise it will feel good. I'm looking forward to writing about my post-walk experience. I'm sure my feet and I will have plenty of stories to tell.
As I try to get in shape for the Avon 39 Walk to End Breast Cancer in October, I’ve been thinking about stamina. I think some people have long-term stamina, and some people have long-distance stamina. Some lucky people have both. Great athletes probably have both. Sometimes I tell my teen writing students that a big part of what makes people grow as writers is not miraculous talent, but the will to just keep doing it, little by little, or bird by bird, as writer, Anne Lamott, says. I think I do have that kind of stamina, long-term stamina.
Unfortunately, I don’t have great long-distance stamina. I was on the swim team in high school. There were two types of “members.” Those who simply joined and those who made varsity. Guess which one I was? But I was happy to be part of a team that accepted everyone, not a common occurrence in my athletically driven town. I wasn’t a very strong swimmer, but I put in my time and showed up. Over many years, I might have become a decent competitor. I only swam for two years, and though I absolutely grew stronger, I rarely placed in races. I also hated the longer races and refused to do the 500 freestyle, which is a 20-lap race. I preferred the sprints. I did not think it was possible to maintain my strength for that long and feared if I actually did it, my time would be the slowest ever recorded. One meet, though, my coach wanted to put me in the 500. I must have looked so frightened, my refusal must have been so adamant, that he backed off and he was a pretty tough coach. I think he was afraid I might drown.
So I never did it, and still avoid things that take that kind of stamina. That’s why a 39-mile walk is a tad intimidating. When I’ve had to push myself in the long-distance realm, pull an overnighter for a deadline, or work on a project for very long consecutive days, it takes so much out of me. That’s why I make sure I stay disciplined and avoid a big push. I would be happy to walk three miles daily to train, even four. I’m a bird by bird kind of person, but for this, I might need to be a gorilla by gorilla kind of person, at least sometimes.
Last week I did five 3-mile walks. The thing about walking is that it takes a long time. I’ve been trying to figure out when I’m going to fit in 5 and 10 mile walks, even just once a week. I’ll get there, I hope. This week I plan to do a five-miler this Friday at 6am. I’m saying it here so I’ll be accountable. I planed to do the same thing last week and I didn’t do it. But this week, well, it’s a new week. I guess this time I’m going to do the 500, even if I come in last.
You might be wondering how all these things fit together. So am I. But somehow, these recent influences in my life have converged and inspired me to write this post. So bear with me as I try to weave together how this happened.
First, I’ve been listening a lot to Mark Maron’s WTF podcast while I walk in the mornings. I love listening to him banter with comedians, writers, and actors about how they've gotten to where they are. The journey is never pretty, but it’s always funny. The more I’ve been walking, the more I’ve been listening. It inspires me to look for the funny in life. Because if we can’t laugh at it all, then what?
I also love listening to audio books and I recently listened to the book The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, a beautifully rendered and somewhat tragic account of a man who decides to walk over 600 miles to visit his old friend dying of cancer. If Harold, a 63 year old man who barely gets up for tea, can walk 600 miles, I can walk 39—even though Harold is not a real person and never walked 600 miles at all.
And last, two weeks ago, I went to Kripalu with my sister, a yoga retreat in Massachusetts, and somewhat of a life retreat center in the best sense. There, I started reading Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly. I’m only at the beginning, but her thoughts on the courage to be vulnerable are hitting a note for me. I don’t let myself be very vulnerable. I want people to think I’m doing okay, that I’m not a mess, that I’m making good choices, that I’m successful and have lots of friends. That parenting and marriage are going fairly smoothly except for the typical annoyances, like why my kids are so loud. Like why my husband leaves his shoes in the middle of the hallway and forgets to unload the dishwasher. You know, silly stuff—those typically annoying things that we’re lucky to be able to complain about. I’m so lucky, what could I ever be frustrated, sad, angry, insecure, or depressed about? But I’ve been all those things, and will find myself there again, over and over and over. Sometimes I feel like giving up and just being the failure I try so hard not to be. But I keep going and many days I see why it’s so worth it. Other days, I don’t get enough work done, nap, eat chocolate, yell at my kids, argue with my husband, drink red wine, and call it a day.
Are you still with me? Are you getting the themes of humor, honesty, stamina, and vulnerability here? Okay, here’s the meat of this post. Get ready.
So a few months ago, my sister and I signed up for The Avon 39 Breast Cancer Walk in New York City on October 18. A year before that, my mother was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. She's in remission now, thankfully, but it was a very hard year which included two surgeries, two rounds of chemo, and one round of radiation. It was mostly hard on her and my unflappable dad who drove her to almost every doctor’s appointment and held her hand through all of it. My sister and I tried to hold their hands as much as we could, but he was her rock. He is a true hero. He knows the double meaning of that.
It was a hard year for everyone who loves her. My mom is such a generous, funny, creative, and loving person, through and through, top to bottom. I don’t only love her because she’s my mom, but I really like her. If I met her as a peer, I would absolutely be friends with her. I love her that much.
Now we're on the other side for a little while, which is all you can know in life. Actually you can’t even know that, but let’s pretend, shall we? I haven’t even touched the surface of how hard it was to watch her and wonder what was going to happen. Now I’m also terrified of my own mammograms. It’s a dark, thorny road which I don’t really want to go down right now, right here, but I did want to acknowledge that.
After the past year, my sister and I wanted to celebrate being on the other side. So of course we decided to train for a 39-mile walk. Usually when I celebrate something, it involves champagne and rich deserts which make me regret my choices the next day.
This time, I’ve got the opportunity to spend the next three months regretting my choice. I joke. Sort of. See, I wanted to do this walk in honor of what my mother went through, and in honor of one of her closest friends, as well as one of my mother-in-law’s closest friends, as well as my husband’s aunt, all of whom didn't get to the other side. These women were all amazing women and nothing I can write here will adequately express the sadness I feel about their lives ending way too soon. I wanted to do this walk for all the women who will face this disease, and all the women I know (way too many) and don’t know, who call themselves survivors, and all the women who can not.
There’s a small problem. I’m not very good at exercise requiring a lot of stamina. I’m a moderately active person. I like short, frequent amounts of exercise that don’t cause too much suffering. An occasional 45-minute spin class is as strenuous as it gets. So the thought of taking 10 and 15-mile training walks makes me want to crawl into a ball and go to sleep. Seriously, who has time to take a 15-mile walk? But one must if one is planning on walking 26 holy moly miles in one day and 13 the next! Are marathoners laughing at me right now? Go ahead. To me, this is like climbing Mount Everest.
Today I walked 3 miles. It was hot. My hips started to hurt. I was thirsty and my hands felt swollen. It took me a little over an hour. It seemed like a really long walk and it’s just the beginning. It’s the easy stuff. I’ve actually been debating giving up, which is why I’m writing this post and will continue to post weekly about my progress or lack of it. I want to raise money. I’m fully invested in this cause. But I’m not sure I can do this, both for stamina and time’s sake. I guess when people start donating money, I’ll have to fully commit. I hope that doesn’t sound manipulating. I mean it without any irony.
In some ways it’s an arbitrary commitment. Why not just get people to donate money without all the fuss? Why put ourselves through this? Haven’t people suffered enough? But our most rewarding experiences usually come with some suffering and a lot of wondering why the hell we’re doing it at all. So maybe this walk and the training is a metaphor for that, and just by the nature of the act, it will hold tremendous meaning. Or it won’t.
But I said I was going to do it. My sister said she was going to do it with me. I told my mom I was going to do it. Now I’m telling whomever is reading this blog. I’m hoping that’s reason enough to keep going and if I really wanted to give up, I would have already, right? They might pick me up in a truck (would it be a truck? Maybe a van? Or an an ambulance?) half-way through, but I will have raised my $1,800 for a great cause, a cause that has become increasingly personal. I know this is a strange way to inspire people to donate, but you will be giving to an important cause, that I know.
I knew I couldn’t find my motivation unless I approached it honestly, vulnerably, and humorously. So wish me luck, and please donate (here's the link: http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/NewYork?px=7818416&pg=personal&fr_id=2406). I don’t know if I’ll finish, but the money still counts.
Until next week…
I can't believe it, but my fourth Phoebe G. Green comes out on June 15! In Cooking Club Chaos, Phoebe starts a cooking club to inspire the adventurous eater in Sage. Many dishes are attempted, including samosas, enchiladas, chocolate mousse, and chicken matzo ball soup, but how many dishes make it out unharmed? Does Phoebe's plan work? Buy the book and find out! Order it now at your local bookstore or online.
Lately, I've missed Phoebe. It might seem like a strange thing for me to say. I'm the one who created her, but it's been a while since Pheebs and I spent some quality time together. When a new book comes out, it means the writer finished writing a while ago. In fact, I think I finished my final draft around January. That's a really fast turn-around. So thanks to all those hard working folks at Grosset & Dunlap! And if you like the books, spread the word so I get to write another one.
Also, I'm taking part in a really cool book event in New York City this weekend. If you're in the area, come and join me and lots of other amazing authors at The Jefferson Market Library, 425 Avenue of the Americas, at 6pm. There will be authors to meet, games to play, and treats galore. Hope to see some of you there!
Guess what? The third installment of Phoebe G. Green comes out February 5! The adorable cover might be my favorite so far. I had a lot of fun working on this manuscript and was usually in need of cheese and chocolate immediately after my writing sessions.
This time Phoebe travels to France with Camille, one of her best friends. Phoebe gets to drink big bowls of hot chocolate for breakfast, helps Camille's grandmother whip up a nice vinaigrette, sort of ruins a cheese soufflé, and learns how to make chocolate croissants from scratch. She even saves a chocolate croissant to bring back for Sage...in her pocket. Delish!
Phoebe's foodie status is tested, however, when Camille wants Phoebe to try her very favorite dish--snails or as Camille calls them, escargot. Will Phoebe make this brave culinary leap and taste escargot? You'll just have to read it. I hope you find this next Phoebe adventure to be sweet enough for Valentine's Day!
Creamy, buttery squash soup, crunchy string beans, crispy roasted potatoes, and duck on a plate. This is the dinner Phoebe has with her French friend, Camille, in the first book of the Phoebe G. Green series. It was also the menu made by chef, Christine Seidl, and her young students. Christine runs The Magic Spoon, where she teaches kids in a very hands-on, approachable way, how to cook. She was inspired by the Phoebe G. Green books and decided to use them as a theme for a cooking class she held last week. What a nice combo!
Unfortunately I couldn't be there to taste the meal, but according to Christine, it was a hit. So if your kids are asking for cooking lessons in the Westchester, NY area, check out Christine's site here. Christine also makes wonderful, fragrant jams like Grape Lemongrass and Apple Lavender. I bought a whole bunch for holiday gifts just the other day and spent way too long at the sample table trying every single one. Phoebe and Camille would go crazy over them. Thanks Christine and I can't wait for my kids to take one of your classes!