Reflection: The Challenge

"I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, 

for going out, I found, was really going in."

- John of the Mountains: The Unpublished Journals of John Muir, (1938)

My body fell forward and I hustled to keep my legs and feet beneath me. My right foot landed on a large round rock in the middle of the trail. It looked stable in the split second I had to consider my step choice, but the rock rolled slightly under my weight and so did my ankle. I didn't stop. I barely slowed at the twinge of pain and assessed the feeling over the next few steps. Hurts? Yes. Need to stop? No. Are you sure? Yes, I could feel pain later. For the next mile or so I focused on stabilizing my now very tired and both rolled ankles. Just give me another uphill, I thought, on the uphills my ankles aren't in danger. 

The fast downhill came to an abrupt halt at a steep rocky face. I looked up with determination, willing that hill to be mine and began the climb. My quads screamed for relief. I ignored them. I would not listen. Instead, I repeated the words of Andy and my family, of my teammates, and my friends telling us to give it everything, to push, to love it. I could hear the excitement in Andy's voice from the phone call the night before; I could see the pictures of my nieces and nephew with signs reading "GO TEAM USA" as they stood in the Virginia sun back home; I looked at my Salomon trail shoes that my brother in California had worked so hard to get for me and my new friend Jenn had happily brought back from the States; I thought of Patagonia, the number one place in the world where I'd like to go, and remembered my new friend Meche telling me to visualize Patagonia at the finish line; I heard my wonderful teammate Jen climbing behind me, mother of 5 and putting up with my "run my face off" intensity ... and could I faintly hear Tara and Maddie there too? 

We were a team. Jen and I were running the trails that day but really, we were all running together each day. We were in it together. Team USA and all of our family and friends supporting us. 

This last week was challenging; mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausting and exhilarating. My post-race reflections may be riding on emotional exhaustion but I'll share them, regardless. Because this race paralleled life in such a way that my take-away from the challenge isn't merely a physical satisfaction but a new sense of communication and community. 

On the trail and off, teams relied on each other. While we were all struggling, we all had different struggles, strengths, weaknesses, and stories woven into our responses to each moment. In those moments we had to communicate openly and honestly about our mental, physical, and emotional state. We had to encourage, share, ask for what we needed, and clarify with others about how they were doing. This sort of attentiveness, both to ourselves and to our teammates, took constant energy. There are no short cuts and there is no option to ignore. Being in a small community here at the medical school and going through this intense battle of accelerated medical school with Andy, I can see how this lesson can be carried into any community. The grace and forgiveness needed in moments of stress and challenge never ends. For yourself, for others. 

We don't often have the option to chose our challenges the way I chose this race. And we don't have the option to choose all of our teammates most of the time. But there are choices along the way; choices to share, to encourage, to hold back, to push forward, to brush it off, to step out of the details and see the broad scope of the mountain in front of you. These choices make or break you, not winning or losing. Winston Churchill reportedly said, "Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts." 

It was a wild experience on this awesome island of Dominica. The landscape and trails rocked our world ... and we live here! The volcanic mountains, dense rainforest, and rushing water both beckoned us and threatened us. We ran over 50 miles of trail as well as doing some biking, rowing, treasure hunting, dancing, hunting, gathering, swimming, and cricket playing. We tested our gear (Salomon trail shoes get it DONE) and our muscles. There is something about the wilds that teach lessons that cannot be taught elsewhere.

Thanks to your support, encouragement, and financial contribution, Team USA came in a close and STRONG 3rd place against incredible athletes. Trinidad White won with 220 points; Trinidad Red had 215; we had 205; Dominica Green had 195. Short trailers can be found on The Nature Island Challenge's Facebook page. But the whole race will actually be a one hour show on NBC in a few months. Follow The Nature Island Challenge on Facebook or their website - www.natureislandchallenge.com to stay up to date.

We are going to leave the Go Fund Me site up for just a little while longer as we would love to be able to contribute as much as possible to Exodus Cry, our charity. 

"Fresh beauty opens one's eyes wherever it is really seen, but the very abundance and completeness of the common beauty that besets our steps prevents its being absorbed and appreciated. It is a good thing, therefore, to make short excursions now and then to the bottom of the sea among dulse and coral, or up among the clouds on mountain-tops, or in balloons, or even to creep like worms into dark holes and caverns underground, not only to learn something of what is going on in those out-of-the-way places, but to see better what the sun sees on our return to common everyday beauty."

- The Mountains of California by John Muir (1894)

http://www.gofundme.com/7k65rs

Paradise? Bloom Where you are Planted

I heard from my family today. It snowed again. And its almost April. And they live in Virginia. That is not supposed to happen. Today's Facebook and Instagram feeds from my East Coast friends were filled with shock, complaints, and witty remarks about snow, cold, weathermen and groundhogs. Everyone is dying for sun, for spring to come, for green grass and flowers, for change. And I get a lot of comments about living in paradise during these times. "If only I could be where she is," people think... 

But wait. Isn't there a saying about this? The grass is always greener on the other side... But is it really? 

I took picture this near the beach where they filmed Pirates of the Caribbean! 

Lets talk about here. It is wet. Let me tell you, the rainforest, the tropics, the islands... it is really wet. Not like Scotland or Ireland; foggy and raining, grey and poetic. Not like monsoon-season in India; everything washed away or drenched and then the parched dirt cracks in the heat a few weeks later. Here on Dominica, at least so far (January to April), its more like ... a broken sprinkler system. 

When we first arrived the rain would come in droves, sometimes in a cloud, sometimes seemingly raining from the sun itself. A few minutes later the sun would shine and things were nicely moistened. Except that I was still drenched or just emerging from my protective overhang or constantly carrying my raincoat, even on the sunniest of days. Until recently this on and off confusion was the trend and it was simultaneously pleasant and a bit frustrating. 

But summer is coming. And we can feel the threat. Its a bit like a lighted match is getting a tad too close to my fingers. The sun's heat is shockingly strong at times. I hear its only going to get worse. While the broken sprinkler system seems to be mostly off, the cool winds still make the days bearable for now. But soon the sun's flame will burn close all day and the humidity will drown us all. I hear that the wetness that once was outside will be your own sweat constantly streaming. The sea is like bathwater and the once cold showers are just more wetness washing over you. No one pays for air-conditioning (especially as you can watch your electricity meter go down) and the nights bring little relief. Sunscreen is your constant companion and, even with the incredible amount of walking we do, I'll cross the street multiple times just to escape the sun. 

Hearing about the snow, more and more snow, makes me yearn for some. I missed an epic year of snow forts and cross country skiing. I missed fires and hot soup and being snowed in. I missed the silence that only falling snow can bring and the dirty slush that looks like a 7-11 Root Beer Slurpee all over the roads. And now I will miss the change of seasons back home, from snow to spring. Its was hot when we got here, pleasant mostly but warm and it will stay hot and get hotter. The sun will shine and then shine some more. I do love it. But there will be little change in the season. Is it better here? Or is it better where you are? Yes ... if the grass is always greener. 

But its not. It takes effort and conscious choice to be content and grateful where you are. Choose gratitude not paradise. I have to tell myself that everyday and have people who will remind me too. 

Heartfelt Updates from The Study and The Studio

"The Study" Update: Just Keep Swimming... 

Medical school in the Caribbean feels like an island on an island. 

My fingers are increasing adept at describing the anatomy and physiology that fuel human life.  Biochemical pathways for cellular energy, protein synthesis, and deficits that lead to disease are an ever-growing scaffolding in my mind. 

My fingers are increasing inept at finding the words to describe what fuels my drive to study for the elusive patient I will serve years down the road.  The daily grind of rise, shine, and study actually leaves little time for cultivating a day to day determination for the all-encompassing endeavor of medical school.  

Fortunately, the years of anticipating, dreaming, and waiting for a chance to enter medical school entrenched a zealously that helps me treat every day like game day even as our schedule makes every day seem more like Monday.

Some days I maintain a hustle just so that my mind does not deflate from defeat.  This is training season.  Board exams will be here before I know it and on that day of mental reckoning I want to step into that test center in full confidence that my preparation involved ever ounce of determination I could muster.  Even more so, on that day with my first patient I want to serve them with my full strength cultivated by a history of preparation and hard work.  

I am thankful to have a partner sharing this journey with me.  I am grateful to be known and at times reminded of who I am beyond a study robot.  That’s enough left brain exercise for now, back to the study…

"The Studio" Update: Re-rooting and Patience 

Something interesting is happening. I wasn't quite sure what it was until recently. After a few weeks, a few long walks up steep hills, and a few conversations with wise people, I think I'm getting a glimpse. 

I've been quietly frustrated with my seeming abundance of time and corresponding lack of production, inspiration, and energy when it comes to making things. "So much time and space and new resources: What is wrong with me?"... is the mantra subtly threading through my everyday. It is a mantra that can creep in for all of us in different ways. We have certain expectations of ourselves and of situations. Then, in the situation, we wait to see those expectations filled rather than what the actual experience brings. We build a social construct in our mind that becomes a faux-Truth even before the experience can produce the actual reality. 

Beginning in December of last year, I was uprooted and replanted. I graduated from a Masters program, welcomed my fiancé back from 4 months apart, got married, turned 30, and moved to an island. When I got here 2 months ago, it was as though I put my hands on my hips and stood there watching, waiting, expecting to see fruit bloom as soon as my feet hit the ground. Well, where was the fruit?! I'm adventurous, creative, and now I've got time. What is wrong with me? Stupid tree. It doesn't work anymore. Great, now I'm on an island with so much time and I'm worthless. Am I drowning or acclimating? Acclimating, obviously, right? RIGHT? Get on with it!

My lack of patience astounds me. My wise sister said maybe I should recognize mini-wins each day (like the day I figured out how to change the propane tank on our stove and carried the 50lb. thing all the way home just to prove something to myself). Maybe I shouldn't try to be producing creativity in the midst of figuring out the basics of living, of surviving (like how not to get run over while crossing the street or crossing in front of an angry donkey). The daily hardships of this place are real but hardly seem so to outsiders since my pictures mainly exude the beauty of this Nature Island. How do I explain things? How do I communicate (an act of expressing something inside of me) through my artwork that which I haven't yet ingested? 

Like any adjustment (losing a loved one, moving, getting married, new job, new kid...), patience is key and expectations can kill the possible joys in your new reality. I am grateful for a partner who shows me this patience and one who can see my fears and emotions I try to hide oh so well.