Defining Wellness

Headlamps are useful before dawn.

This morning I woke my nine year old at 5:00 a.m. for a sunrise hike to a pond near our home. We didn't actually get to see the sun rise due to an overabundance of clouds, it was cold and the pond was still frozen, but we enjoyed our first hike of 2013 anyway. It was as much an acknowledgement of my own return to wellness as it was a celebration of the start of mud season in the Adirondacks.

My husband is not a morning person. When I announced our planned hike, he noted that my idea of wellness is someone else's idea of insanity. This had me thinking that it is impossible to define wellness in a broad sense. We each have to define wellness in our own terms, and we only can by knowing our own bodies, minds and spirits.

This is very evident whenever I get together with the Bona Fide Butterflies, who include myself and my two friends and partners Annie Gregson and Beti Spangel. Together we facilitate empowering retreats and workshops for women. We strive to help women design and live authentic, inspired lives based on their individual values.

Individual values - that's the key. Society likes to tell us what to value. Media gets paid to tell us what to value. But it's our individual values, the ones that come from the heart, that make us unique, that keep everyone from being the same and living the same life according to the same plan. It's our individual values that make human existence diverse, colorful and fun. 

The BFBs

Annie and Beti are incredible women living joyful lives of their own design. Neither one of them is likely to start training for a marathon. Neither one wants to teach yoga, although they enjoy their own yoga practices. Annie, a life coach, also makes incredible art. She has lots of time in her life for long walks in the woods with her dog, and she throws fun, seemingly spontaneous parties. Beti has horses and chickens on her homestead, and she makes yummy cheese. She can drive a tractor. She's also an awesome writer.

Our differences are what we have in common. All three of us have taken the time to figure out what's important to us and we've created lives that honor those things. Unique, diverse, authentic lives. Our own definitions of wellness. 

The other thing we have in common is a road in Schroon Lake, where we're neighbors in the "I'll drive a few miles up the road to your house" sense of the word. I think fate had something to do with that.

Take a look at the Bona Fide Butterflies website and see the workshops and retreats we offer. We're also on Facebook. 

I'm heading to a yoga class to stretch out sore hiking and running muscles, and to honor my own idea of wellness.

Summer: Raw and Abstract

Summers in the Adirondacks tend to be fast and furious. By mid-August there are already hints of fall: mornings and evenings are cool and the trees take on a yellower hue. College students are heading back to campus (my daughter leaves next week) and back-to-school preparations are being made. It's not over, but now summer quiets after six weeks of non-stop activity.

After the rush of summer I welcome the transition to autumn, my favorite season. Schroon Lake offers many fun summer activities - too many to try them all - and I have learned to make time for my favorites and let the rest go, lest summer plans collapse into utter chaos.

For the second summer in a row, one of the blessings of summer has been welcoming bellydance instructor Natalie Kalinowicz to the True North Yoga studio for a series of bellydance workshops. I shake the dust off my hip scarf (to the happy sound of jingling coins) and re-learn how to shimmy my hips. I started bellydancing in New Jersey before we made the move north and I miss it terribly. In addition to the fun exercise, bellydance encourages women to come together in community and dance just for themselves. There is one more workshop this Sunday, August 19th, at 3:00 pm. If you're in the area, join us!

Also on the "must-do" list for me is to see each of the four productions of the Adirondack Shakespeare Company. They call their style "Shakespeare in the Raw," meaning they use no sets and have very basic costumes and props. They focus on the acting, and I have to say I "get" so much more from the plays than any other time I've seen them performed. The actors are very entertaining as well. True North Yoga helps to "sponsor" their summer here by welcoming the actors to attend yoga classes when they get a break from performing and it is always lovely to have their energy in class. Plus they're really good at sounding "om."

Hamlet in the remains of the resort's ampitheater in what is now Scaroon Manor State Park

A new treat this summer has been Art in the Park, weekly art projects in Schroon Lake's Town Park facilitated by none other than my favorite artist and life coach Annie Gregson. While we weren't able to get there every week, my son and I have enjoyed making mosaics, mandala-like "kaleidoscope" drawings and, just this morning, turning abstract collages of colors and shapes...

into an even more abstract acrylic paintings.

Summer has been a glorious rush, and I'll probably miss it when it's gone, for a moment. But as the leaves begin to fall there will be new, albeit quieter, activities. I'll begin homeschooling my son and will be teaching my first advanced yoga studies and 200-hour yoga teacher training program. It looks like the Adirondacks will have at least four new yoga teachers by spring. And that will be as glorious as summer.

Mountains on Wednesdays

Although my son tries to convince me every week that sleeping in would be better than hiking, we've seen the tops of a good number of mountains this summer. We're not done, but, since I haven't posted any pictures yet, I thought I'd share some highlights.

Near the summit of Pharaoh Mt. in Schroon Lake with my niece

Exploring the trails after a storm at the Adirondack Interpretive Center in Newcomb

Treating a friend to the views on top of Baxter Mt.

Standing on the top of Bald Peak in New Russia

Looking up at the fire tower on Goodnow Mt.

Looking out at the High Peaks from Rooster Comb Mt.

December 7 - Tranquilo (Calm)

Image via Wikipedia

Sometimes the most beautiful, memorable moments are also the quietest. What quiet, beautiful moment do you recall?

As the moon waxes towards fullness this weekend, I recall gazing at a summer full moon. I had unrolled my yoga mat on the sand at Schroon Lake's town beach and honored the moon's fullness with round after round of Chandra Namaskar, yoga's moon salutations. The beach was quiet while I flowed through the feminine, hip-opening movements; the sun-worshipping beach-goers had settled into their vacation homes or one of the local eateries for the evening. As I repeated my vinyasa, the moon rose over the mountains.

When my asana practice was complete, I sat on my mat and focused my gaze on the moon and the clouds that slowly drifted in front of it. For many minutes I got lost in the moon's light glittering on the lake. The lake is busy during the day, full of power boats and jet skis, but under the full moon the lake was quiet. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves on the beach.

Summers here are busy, even a bit chaotic, making quiet moments all the more meaningful. I thank the moon for sharing it's beautiful energy in a rare moment of peaceful quiet.

Quieting Down

Image via WikipediaAfter Columbus Day weekend, Schroon Lake gets really quiet. The vacation homes have been closed up for the winter. Some of the snow birds are already migrating to Florida and the rest will soon follow. Other than a few die-hard leaf-peepers and a handful of hikers, the visitors are gone.

Like most of the local business owners who work very hard over the summer, my first reaction to the quiet is a sigh of relief. This is followed by a brief moment of panic about paying the studio's rent in the winter until I remind myself that this is my third winter here and the studio has done just fine during the lean months. Next is the serious stuff - deciding how to spend my time.

Compared to eight short weeks of jamming in everything I possibly can while the sun is out, the eight months of cold ahead should be flush with time, right? And yet I always seem to end up on the brink of summer not having accomplished all the things I was going to do during the winter so I'd be ready for the summer craziness. Other than losing a hour or two (or twenty) to shoveling snow, there should be lots of time for reading all those books, making some art and knitting. There should also be time for planning and preparing so next summer isn't a rushed blur.

Where does all that time go?

I spent my free time in September making lists. I have a pile of them, listing all the things that I need to start doing, or start doing again. My problem is that without a looming deadline, it's too easy to put stuff off. Just as I have a hard time sticking to triathlon or run training without an upcoming race, I can't seem to find motivation for tasks until failure to do them creates a crisis and, let's face it, most things don't.

Is there a part of your year that quiets down? Are you able to use your quiet times to move forward with your goals or dreams? Or do they get away from you?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Adirondack Half-Marathon

I suppose running farther than I've ever run before is a fitting end to my 2010 race season. Getting to run a half-marathon as part of the Adirondack Distance Festival, right here, around my lake, made the end of the season extra-special.

Since it was my first half-marathon, I had no idea what to expect from myself. My longest training run was 12 miles and it took me 2 hours and 21 minutes to complete, so I estimated 2:30 for the entire 13.1 miles. Since my knee was still hurting when I ran 3 miles on Saturday, the day before the race, I thought I might not even make the 2:30, but would be happy just to finish.

The morning of the race was kind of weird. I'm used to being at a triathlon, setting up transition, around 6:30am. This race didn't start until 10:00am. We had to be at the buses that would take us to the half-marathon start (the full marathon is a loop around the lake) by 9:00am. The buses were waiting less than a mile from my house. My husband drove me over at 8:50am. I didn't know what to do with myself all morning.

I warmed up by alternately jogging and walking for about 15 minutes before the race started. My knee was stiff and sore. When the gun went off and I started running, my knee hurt. Knowing this was the last race this year, I decided to let it hurt and I kept running.

Sometime between miles 3 and 4 my knee stopped hurting. I didn't feel it at all. I have no idea why. Maybe the running gods thought I deserved a break. I was checking my time at the mile markers and was running just over 10 minute miles, which is faster than I expected. All I had to do was keep that pace and I would come in before 2:30.

When we made the turn onto Route 9 I really started to have fun. I logged many miles up and down this road while I was training. I knew all the hills and where the potholes and bumps were. People I knew were watching from lawn chairs at the bottom of their driveways or side streets or volunteering at water stations, so I got to hear my name and cheers often. There were bands and musicians along the route and Mark Piper, our infamous local singer-songwriter, managed to get out "Go Debbie" in the middle of a song. I ran past my parents' house and was greeted by my family and some of the neighbors. My aunt gave me water at the next water stop. It was like having the home field advantage.

When I reached mile 12, I still felt great. I knew I had more than a mile left in me, and couldn't help thinking that I needed a swim and a bike ride to go with this run. My pace hadn't slowed at all. I was loving every step.

To get to the finish line we had to make a right turn, run past the church where I teach my yoga classes, then go another block to the town beach. As the time on the finish chute got close enough to read, I realized that I could finish under 2:15 if I hustled. I had plenty left to go faster, so I sprinted and finished with a time of 2 hours, 14 minutes and 21 seconds.

I came in 257th out of the 526 runners who finished the half-marathon (22nd out of 52 in my age group), which puts me squarely in the middle of the pack and - I can't believe I get to write this - in the top half of the finishers. I've never gotten to use the word "top" in any of my race reports, so you can imagine how excited I am.

Next year, I'm trying the full marathon. But for now I'm putting my running shoes in the closet to focus on my yoga practice, put a new knitting project on my needles and spend more time writing. And I plan to spend some time in another pair of shoes. Stay tuned...

History

During the 1950s, the shores of Schroon Lake, NY were graced by world-class resorts, including the Leland House, the Ondawa and the Edgewater, on whose land my parents' house now sits. Perhaps the most spectacular and well-known resort was Scaroon Manor. The 327-acre site in South Schroon featured a golf course, tennis courts, a beautiful shoreline and an amphitheater. The 1957 film Marjorie Morningstar, starring Gene Kelly and Natalie Wood, was filmed at Scaroon Manor. During the filming Schroon Lake was enjoyed by the cast and crew, and especially by Robert Wagner, who was there only to advance the romance between himself and Miss Wood and had many idle hours while she was on the set. Less than a decade after the movie was made, after a couple of unprofitable seasons in the hands of new owners, the hotel's land was sold to New York State.

The once elegant buildings were demolished and, for many years, the land was left idle. The golf course is now designated wetlands and nature has long since reclaimed the tennis courts. All that is left of the grand hotel is the stone shell of the amphitheater. For almost 50 years the site was open to the public, or at least anyone who was willing to boat around the remains of the concrete docks to reach the beach, or make their way through the brambles from the road.

Trips to "Marjorie Morningstar", as we called the place, are part of my memories of summer vacations at Schroon Lake. We would beach the boat and scramble up what was left of the paths in search of blackberries, which grew wild. We would climb onto the remains of the amphitheater and dance and sing for the adults. For us kids, that amphitheater was a magical place, as if the spirit of Natalie Wood was still there, inspiring even the shyest among us to perform.

Recently, the state has decided to use the land, and has gotten busy clearing pathways, paving parking lots, and building picnic shelters and restrooms. The state also constructed a little building near the entrance, where employees can sit and collect money for day-use fees. Still under construction are additional facilities and campsites. I've heard that the state plans to open Scaroon Manor for camping, to replace campsites lost at the soon-to-be-closed Eagle Point Campground, where overuse has led to serious erosion and loss of vegetation.

Thanks to the state, boating in with the kids to let them run and explore like we did has become expensive. (Someone is watching the new boat docks to collect those fees.) During the summer, all we can do is look at the beach from the water as we go by. At the end of the season, however, the state workers pack up and go home, and the locals park outside the locked gate and walk in.

Today we took the dogs and walked the old hotel grounds. My son performed in the amphitheater, which still has it's magic. On a quiet path we let the dogs off their leashes and they took off running - into the lake, down the path, into the creek, up the path again and back into the creek. They enjoyed their own little piece of doggie heaven, oblivious to how cold the water must have been. The dogs were so happy that they forgot how badly they usually listen. They came when we called them, sat still as we put their leashes back on, and walked like well-trained show dogs back to the car. (I wonder if Natalie Wood had a dog.)

Scaroon Manor park is a nice place for a short walk every now and then, although I miss the untended ruins from my childhood memories. The blackberries are gone; their thorny vines were probably deemed unsafe. The paths are a bit too groomed and there is too much pavement to really satisfy my desire to explore the wilds of the Adirondacks. The brown vinyl-sided restrooms can't replace the resort that once flourished on the shore, but perhaps the state will restore the amphitheater one day, keeping the spirit of Marjorie Morningstar alive to inspire another generation.

The Other Side

Image by lars hammar via Flickr

Ever since I started this blog, I've been writing about leaving New Jersey, moving to the Adirondacks, completing a triathlon and opening a yoga studio. Now I can say - check, check, check and check.

As of yesterday, all our stuff from the New Jersey house was safely tucked away in two units at Schroon Lake Self Storage. We've got what we need in the cabin and I'm working on making it less vacation-y and more homey until we find a bigger place. I'm feeling more secure, and sleeping better, knowing all my stuff is in one place (or at least one town).

The triathlon was completed in June, but you all knew that. I'm not done with that, though. I'm training for the Lake George Triathlon in September. Being here at the lake all the time has given me lots of opportunities to practice my open water swims. I think I'll do better next time.

On August 1st I started teaching yoga classes at the Schroon Lake Community Church. The church was very kind and let me use their community room for my classes. I've had a pretty good response, despite the weather, which has been gorgeous. After two months of rain, I'm not surprised many are choosing the beach over yoga. I confess, when nobody shows up for a class, that's where I go. I'm happy with the number of classes I have taught, and I'm not wishing for rain.

I'm still adjusting to being in a new place, and trying to get into a routine for the day-to-day things. Although I am no longer working 9-to-5, I am out of the house quite a bit. The schedule changes, so I have afternoons open some days, mornings others. I'm trying to be flexible, because I don't want to spend a glorious afternoon scrubbing floors when I could be in the lake, working on my swim training or playing with the kids. Winters are long up here in the North Country, so I don't want to miss any of the summer. The floors will still be dirty when the snow starts to fall.