"Memorable people" potluck

This week's "potluck" is going to be more of a sit-down affair, not because I don't have material, but because one article stood out among all the rest...

If you read "6 Habits of Truly Memorable People," please let me know what you think! The article fits in nicely with this week's earlier post about priorities, particularly the part about being a person - not a resume:

So you run... but you won't enter a race because you don't want to finish at the back of the pack. You sing... but you won't share a mic in a friend's band because you're no Adele...
Personally and professionally, you feel compelled to maintain your all-knowing, all-achieving, all conquering image.
And you're not a person. You're a resume.

How often do we let the resume get in the way of life?

I know I struggle with this concept on a daily basis. Some days the adventure-seeker wins (packing up and moving to a Florida town I had never seen before counts squarely in that category). But there are plenty of days when day-job responsibilities and "professional credibility" trump all other decisions.

When I'm on my death-bed, will I be glad that my resume was polished to a glossy sheen?
Or will I be glad that I skipped out on work for an extra day at Jazzfest, to meet up with a new running group, to have coffee with a former student, or to volunteer at a beach cleanup?

To be honest, the resume-concern often dictates content and phrasing in my blog-life. A truly horrible day on the job has never been explained here in all of its gory political shitstorm drama...
... because it might reflect negatively on my professional reputation, of course.

And I haven't exactly been a career thrill-seeker. Some days I want to throw caution to the wind, go back to stocking wine cases at a specialty store (which I did right after college), and try my hand at freelance writing "for real," but fear of the "resume gap" is enough that I've stayed with the same employer for more than a decade. (How many people can say that? Then again, how many people should say that?)

I'm sure there's some counter-argument article out there, extolling the virtues of the well-planned and well-executed life. After all, there is comfort in the familiar. (Some days I really do love my job.) Adventure-seeking is unlikely to lead to a longer life or a higher paycheck (unless, maybe, you're Jon Krakauer).

But adventures broaden our horizons. Travel can make us better writers or better teachers. Thinking "wrong" can lead to innovative solutions. Pushing beyond our comfort zone can lead to PR marathons or new hobbies.

And, in the final analysis, quality is more important than quantity.

Source: myrevelment.com via Maggie on Pinterest

Even if I keep plugging away at my career for another 10 years... If I keep running for another 10 years... If I live in Florida (*shudder*) for another 10 years... I can find ways to shake things up and add more adventure.

I'm not sure, yet, what my next adventure will be.
But I am certain there will be one!


(That said... "adventure" probably shouldn't involve banditing a race then suing the race organizer.)

Quote of the week:

Success isn't how far you got, but the distance you traveled from where you started.

What's your most recent adventure?
(and maybe more importantly)
What adventures do you have coming up?

On this day: Anniversary of a major life change. Or the road less traveled.

One year ago today I boarded a plane in San Diego, flew to Seattle, hopped in a car, and began the cross-country road trip that was the first step in a very scary bold move from the West Coast to the Gulf Coast.

Hubby (then: fee-ahn-sey') had just wrapped up graduate school in Seattle, and we were about to spend a week driving, running, and eating our way across the vast United States from the top left corner of the map to the bottom right en route to our new home.

We plotted our trip to get as much sight-seeing and family-visiting in as we could. At the end of the trip, I'd have enough time for a one-day glimpse of the place I'd spend the next 2 or 3 years. Then I'd return to San Diego for a couple of months to tie up loose ends. I'd repeat the cross-country trek again in November, and by December I'd turn in my old apartment keys and have a Florida driver's license.

What was I thinking?!? I was about to spend 10 days in a car with only one other person. Cross country road trips have been known to kill even the strongest relationships. And then I was going to uproot my very comfortable (if a bit predictable) life to move to a place I had never seen before.
Cue panic attack!

Over 10 days we covered 2,900 miles on four wheels and about 20 miles on our two feet. We ran almost every morning before hitting the road. We ran in Missoula, MT, Yellowstone National Park, Fort Collins, CO, Fort Worth, TX, and eventually at our new home in Pensacola, FL.

The running helped to stave off the inevitable butt-numbness that comes with long-haul road trips. It also gave us a chance to really see some of the places we might have missed if we had only been looking out a car window. We dove in beyond the parking lots in Yellowstone and saw amazing geothermal pyrotechnics - not to mention bison and bears. We startled a deer eating her breakfast in Colorado. We got rained on in Pensacola. (Note to my future self: This will happen. Often.)

After each morning's run, we'd shower, change, and hit the road. We counted state license plates. (Never did see Hawaii.) We counted antelope. (My revelation of the trip: Antelope really do roam in Wyoming!) We counted miles. (Miles traveled. Miles run. Miles left to go.)

This photo from Missoula sums up how I felt about the whole trip: My back turned on the familiar. Running headlong down a trail I've never been on. Having no idea where I'm going. Loving the rush of a new adventure. Being just a little bit totally terrified that I have no idea what I'm doing here.

But life, like running, is measured in the miles we travel. Not the ones we don't.

21 day yoga challenge

I've run myself into a bit of a rut.

For the past two months I've kept up a 6 day/week workout schedule. But I can't remember the last time I did a truly challenging sprint workout or lifted weights 'til I had that "good hurt" muscle soreness the next day... (I could blame the rut on working two jobs, but really that's a cop-out. I dug myself into this rut. I'll have to dig myself out.)

Time for a change!

To start, I picked a November half marathon and updated my training schedule accordingly. (Nothing gets me motivated for weekend long runs like an impending race deadline!)

But that's still pretty normal for me.

So I decided to do yoga. Every single day. For three weeks straight.

My criteria were simple -- the change needed to be something dramatic but low-cost (read: no $$$ investment in a brand new kayak or pricey gym membership). Bonus points if I could work the change into an already crammed schedule (read: at-home workouts get double-extra bonus points).

And just as I was looking for a way to shake up my routine, I heard about the 21-day yoga challenge.

Funny how things work out sometimes.

I had been going to a once-a-week yoga class until June. My shoulders were getting a level of muscle definition that usually only occurs south of my hips. Then my teacher moved away, and I fell completely off that wagon.

What better way to get out of a rut than to hop on the next wagon?

So I'm on Day 5 of yoga every day for three weeks straight. (Minimum requirement = 15 minutes a day, but most days should be 45 - 90 minutes.)

I am already sore in muscles I forgot I had, but it's a pleasant ache that reminds me I'm making my body stronger.


What's the craziest (or most effective) thing you've ever done to bust out of a rut or shake up your workout routine?


Have you ever done a "challenge," yoga or otherwise?


Photo (of rut) courtesy of The U.S. National Archives, plus some editing magic by yours truly. Photo (of shoulder stand) courtesy of yours truly.