I'm a commitment phobe. I hate making plans too far in advance. Unless, of course, it has to do with my business, in which case I'll book a date in 2014. Making money makes me feel successful, and validates the cocktail website I created and have poured my spirit into (ba-dum-bum) as a business rather than "an expensive hobby," as one friend recently described her creative career.So, it was with a mixture of trepidation, excitement, anxiety and fear-of-failure that I signed up for the L.A. Marathon, which is on March 21, 2010. Registration began today, September 1, 2009 and I stayed up watching the Tonight Show and Jimmy Fallon, last night, until the clock ticked over to midnight. I had been mentally keeping track of the sign up date for a few weeks, and I was not going to miss this opportunity to live "my best life."
2009 started off very strangely for me. On Christmas Eve, I developed a non-stop headache which lasted for 27 days. A CAT scan in the emergency room revealed a relatively small "mass" in my brain. The doc nearly admitted me right away but after conferring with a neurologist, he said that I could go home that night but I would need an MRI "stat," which I took to mean the next day, for example.
That week, as I restlessly awaited my HMO health insurance to "approve" the MRI which would reveal whether or not my life as I knew it would change forever, I googled "meningioma" so I could better understand the ER report. Turns out, they can be absolutely nothing to worry about, or they could be life-threatening brain cancer. Only the MRI would give us that insight, and only my HMO could approve one.
As time droned on, I pleaded with the HMO to speed up the approval process (hello... doc said "stat!"). I filled my afternoons eating whatever I pleased, wearing my fuzzy robe in front of TV and scribbling down notes during "Oprah's Best Life Week," which ran the first week of the new year. Should my life be snatched away sooner than I expected, would I have done my best?
The overall answer was "yes." I am satisfied with who I am, and have very few regrets. I am extremely fortunate: I have a great (if imperfect) family and significant other, and several fiercely loyal friends. I have had the gifts of health and education, and I am lucky enough to have been born a woman in a country without too many obstacles for humans of my gender. A wanderer by nature, I've traveled the world since I was young. I've had the luxury of being able to pursue my passions. And, I have my own, personal relationship with God. I became more and more peaceful inside my core as I pondered these things, and gratitude for my blessings swelled. I've had a good life. But am I living to the best of my ability?
One of the topics of Oprah's Best Life Week was to find a "health advocate," someone who would go to bat for you should a health disaster strike. I wasn't ready to tell anyone (well, hardly anyone) about the MRI, so I became my own health advocate, which I actually found quite empowering. I called that dang HMO every single day, and I am convinced that by doing so, I was able to get the MRI by the end of the week, rather than waiting the 2-3 weeks I had been told.
I was a sniveling heap going into that tube... but a Xanax, half a box of tissues, and an hour later, I was assured that the little mass sharing space inside my skull (whom I'd now nicknamed Harry) was not malignant, and was unlikely to cause me further distress. Also, Harry had nothing to do with my headaches. Turns out that was attributed to a neck problem I'd developed due to bad posture while writing all dang day on my computer for aforementioned website. Just to be safe, I'd go back in a year for a follow-up MRI, to make sure Harry hadn't grown in size. I got physical therapy for my neck and several kinds of pain killers for my headaches. I decided I'd become more active - yoga? ballet? - and take better care of my physical body.
Here's the thing... Just five years ago, I was in good physical shape and exercised regularly. I was on my computer a couple of hours per day, at most. I barely took aspirin for headaches (which I rarely got) and I also drank alcohol sparingly.
Fast forward to today, I've gained 30 pounds over the last 5 years. I barely work out at all. I feel the anxiety of running my own small business. I am constantly on my butt, on my computer, and due to my job (and stress), I indulge in more-than-the-average number of cocktails (or glasses of wine) per week. I'm going to be 40 in January 2010, and Oprah's Best Life week helped me realize that although I am grateful, happy and satisfied with myself overall should I get hit by a truck tomorrow, I have the nagging feeling that I am not quite living my "very best life."
A month after the "Harry" fiasco, I decided I would train for the LA Marathon BUT, it was February 2009, and I had missed all the training deadlines. After emailing a running group, I got an email from a lady nicely explaining that with the marathon only a couple of months away (and given my level of non-experience) it was too late to start so I made a mental note to sign up for the 2010 run and train well in advance.
The LA Marathon has a new route stretching from downtown to the beach. It will be a beautiful tour, by foot, of the city which has been my home since 1993. I admit that a big part of signing up for the training is to get back in shape. I suppose that is superficial. And, I am afraid that I might fail at this marathon thing. I might not make it. I might fail. I might not lose any weight. I might suck. I haven't done yoga or ballet, as I had planned, this year. I might quit the marathon training. I might not run the entire route if I do do it. I might injure myself. I might woos out.
But, I might not.
I might add another notch onto my belt of "life experiences." I might improve myself physically and emotionally. I might run "Harry" right out of my head. And, I might have more proof - when the time does come to leave this body - that I haven't been afraid to commit to living my best life.
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