Tag Archives: #friends

Marco Tona- Warrior runner

A interview I wrote for a local running group of a local ultra runner. 

“Greatness is achieved the moment you decide you cannot do anything else, other than that one thing” Marco Tona – 12.22.19

With his halo of wild curls, enthusiasm for life and relaxed demeanor, on initial inspection Marco Tona comes across like any other regular 22-year-old. Hailing from Destin FL, a student of Exercise Physiology and the third youngest of eight children, he grew up surrounded by family and well loved.

However, not every 22-year-old that you meet has just completed a 24hr. running race and run 100 miles. WHAT you say!?! A 100 miles! Now let us relook at Marco Tona, underneath his big smile and gentle personality there lies an old soul, the heart of a lion and a steely grit that is seldom found in the youth.

Okay, so who is Marco? I sat down and chatted with Marco on a wet, storm riddled Florida winters day to discuss his journey into ultra-running, what drives him and his aspirations for the future. Because at age 22, this is merely the beginning of his great journey.

Let me start from the “Big One” and take you back to his beginning. “Icarus Florida Ultra Fest”2019, a looped road race, where a runner will run as far as they can in an allotted time. Your choices being….

12hr / 24Hr / 48Hr / 72Hr / 144Hr

GULP! EXACTLY!

What they say about the race “What this means for seasoned ultra-runners and new runners alike is that the Icarus Florida UltraFest is not just a place to test your limits, but to abandon them” taken from website.

So, what is it about this race, after running only three 50K (Calootsahatchee, Croom Fools, Washington Red Devils) races previously that made Marco dive off at the deep end and jump straight in to 100 miles? Well, as with all great beginnings and heroes, it started in a bar. Marco goes on to explain that one evening before a long run, he was designated driver, as all dedicated runners are on a Friday night. His epiphany hit! He was finished with the nights out and wanted to push his limits. It was about, in his own words “shattering his ceiling” and really seeing what he could achieve. So in that bar he signed up on impulse for Icarus. Because in the realm of the unknown a person’s boundaries can be found, accepted, crushed, then rebuilt once the core is exposed and they know who they are. It was from that point, in that dingy bar that the training begun. As 100 miles is literally the only step one can take, to really find out what they can do.

In his youth Marco was a swimmer and as he moved into high school he began to run. He joined the cross country and track team as they did not have a competitive swim team. Blazing a trail through 600/800 m distances and the 5K, Marco carried through his running to college. Moving to Florida and continuing his studies, Marco met Aubrey Aldy, (his now trainer) in their local pool and another piece of the puzzle clicked in place. Marco kept running, he dabbled in triathlon and at 21 years old he signed up for his first 50K. Why? To see if running was “great”? So minimally trained and with the zeal that only a 21 year can bring, he completed his first 50K in 6hrs 40mins. The bug had bitten and in his 2nd 50K with some training he took 2 hrs off this time. From here his ascent had commenced. One more technical run, the Red Devil 50K in Washington and his love of endurance running was secured and the next big challenge set.

We went on to discuss Icarus and what it meant to Marco, how the race broke down and what he discovered about himself, as each layer peeled off with every 1.0408 Km paved loop completed. The key was to take heed of Icarus’s story. To listen to and respect your body, to push boundaries but not destroy your limits, to hit the edge but not melt and fall. Fly close to the sun but not too close, because like Icarus you could be doomed and not rise again to complete another loop. Running 100 miles is a fine balance, of training, respect for your body, nutrition, honoring the distance and to push the edge, while holding back. It takes grit and mental toughness, and this is what Marco had to discover and layer it thick upon his enthusiasm base.

After four months of long slow runs, he was hitting he said 50-60 miles a week. Pretty moderate for ultra-training, with most of his mileage scheduled at the weekends and with some double day running, he was ready. Nutrition was dialed in; he likes to use Electrolyte Fuel System (EFS) drink brand and not eat too many of his calories. This helps his stomach and reduces the usage of the dreaded port a potty, that my friend is a whole separate mental game in itself. The long runs revealed his weaknesses, he hit mental barriers and drove past them to more manageable mental ground. Marco said he loved figuring out “where his walls were” and obliterating them.

The Start Line: –

Saturday November 23rd, 2019, 9am, seasoned ultra-dogs and young puppies alike, wait at the start line. Marco is there, mentally steeled, pacers in place, nutrition lined up and they are off, “let the games begin”. Because if you have ever run an ultra, you know that nothing invariably goes to plan. It’s about managing the situation, driving away the demons, embracing the crazy and the crazies around them. Because, to be a person who can step up to this line and cross it and manage the next 24 hrs, that element of crazy must lie deep within you too. As, it is that insanity which will ultimately carry you up to your goal and past it, then vomit what is left of you at the finish line. Kind of like the Exorcist, running 100 miles is like an exorcism, exposing all your demons and making you face them, because that is all you can do when you are exhausted.

Marco’s personal race to victory: –

We discussed in depth his race, how it panned out and what it threw at him. Marco revealed that no matter how tough it got he “never wanted to quit” that was not an option. It was never in his dialogue and he was convinced he would hit his 100-mile goal in 24HRs. Now my friends that is a very good foundation to any personal win. He found a steady pace and stuck to it, now remember this is not easy and he hit two huge low points. He told me that between mile 42-48 he felt terrible, yet he pushed through and only thought of the race loop to loop, his next drink or next piece of food. He was lacking a little in the nutrition and was given Ensure by his pacer and trainer and Marco said that totally put the wheels back on and he felt fabulous, with 15-20g of protein a bottle it was definitely the way to go. Miles 50-70 he felt awesome as the distance and hours ticked by. Through into the night he kept running, lulled by the solitude and hypnotic darkness, relaxing into his stride and putting his mind at rest; the ultimate meditation. Day breaks, mile 80 hits and he tumbles down a crevice of “low”, muscles are locking up, as the lactate acid builds, feet are numb, stinging from over use and at 20 miles to go, his cousin jumps in for 5 miles to eek him through the discomfort. Then his brother steps into pace Marco, who had come all the way from Oahu, Hawaii, to be with him for the race. He ran the final 10 miles with his brother, striding towards his goal. The pain is excruciating, every mile an eternity, but he remains steady, his dream taunting him and waiting for him to grab it with two hands and with a mere twenty minutes to go to the 24HR cut off Marco hits his 100 miles. YES! He hits 100 miles, can you even imagine what that feels like, the pain, the elation, the relief, the tiredness sweeping over, the excitement. AMAZING! His total mileage was 100.29 miles. He crushed it, ringing in at second place.

The Future: –

We go on to discuss his plans for the future, what inspires him, what he learnt from the race and areas he wants to work on. When working on his running Marco takes inspiration from the strengths of the people around him, his trainer, friends, running partners and creates a person of pure inspiration and looks at what he can draw from that. We talk about what he needed to work on, and he said “consistency” in his training, to get out there and run the miles and not be lazy – his own words.

His love of the outdoors drives him and when we talk about his 5 year plan in life and running, he reveals that he is striving to do some faster 50K races and 50 milers, begin to work on doing some long trans through hikes (think PCT – Pacific crest trail and AT – Appalachian trail) and a maybe a 200 mile race. In life he aspires to move to the beautiful, Rocky Mountains of Colorado, indulge his love of technical trails and being at one with nature. While there he aims to utilize his Exercise Physiology major and build up his own endurance coaching business, partnering with shoe companies and work on training and nutrition of athletes. I mean the world literally is his oyster, with his determination, lust for life, intelligence and cool confidence, I feel we will see and hear a lot more of Marco Tona in the years to follow. He truly was a joy to talk to and a person already in tune with themselves, which can take most people a lifetime to discover. I am excited to follow Marco’s journey and to see where he goes from here as he continues to shatter his ceiling and lift higher.

Marco Tona stats

-Favorite sneakers – Altra Torin

-Trademark look – Wild curls

-Thing most people do not know about him – He was a book worm and home schooled.

-Special power – Enthusiasm and excitement to run.

-Furthest run – 100.29 miles.

 

 

Erica Szilagyi – Marathon Maven

My latest article on a local runner for a local run / triathlon training team.

“With the marathon you must struggle, you have to move to a painful place.” Erica Szilagyi 1.24.2020

Erica Szilagyi strides out to meet me, expressive hands waving, her voice warm and loud. She is such a petite little thing, but there is no hiding her open, all-encompassing presence, it pretty much socks you in the mouth and then hugs you better. I am quickly guided into her bright and airy conservatory, the evening Florida sun dancing on her fledging paintings, a new skill she is dabbling with. The serenity of the room is an interesting contrast to the woman who has just scooped me up at the front door and thrust a red tea in my hand.

OK let’s stop there! I think before I move on, I need to do a quick Erica statistical run down for you, so you can truly comprehend how epic one woman can be.

Erica in Numbers: –

Years running – 46

Total Marathons – Erica Szilagyi, teacher and mother of three grown women herself, has run 34 Marathons. Yes, people you heard correctly THIRTY-FOUR MARATHONS. WOWSERS!!

Boston Marathon – 12 of those marathons have been at the breathtaking, revered Boston Marathon – The world’s oldest annual marathon established in 1897, which makes it an astonishing 123 years old.

Fastest Marathon – 3 hours 13 minutes – fast.

Fastest 5K – 18 minutes 50 secs – even faster.

Therefore, it does not come as a surprise that at 59 ½ years old (her own words, by the way she does not look a day over 50) that Erica is an animated bundle of running knowledge, a force to be reckoned with, all cemented in a heart of gold. PSSST on another aside, she turns 60 the day before she runs the Gold Label Chicago Marathon, the perfect way to celebrate a new decade of life, don’t you think?

As you can imagine, I was excited to sit down to chat, pick her brain and dig down to the core of what makes Erica tick. Eager to discover the drive that has kept her running all these years, since that day when she first laced up at age 14 years old? To be honest, there is pretty much nothing Erica does not know about running and especially the marathon.

Originally, a native of Philadelphia Erica did most of her growing up in the urban landscape that is Detroit. But, at the fresh-faced age of 20, as the eighties hit; the age of computers, conservatism and end of the cold war, Erica chased the sun and headed south to land in Naples. Via a sojourn in Texas where she went to college and earned her degree in Biology and Nutrition. Her path led her to become a teacher of AP Environmental Sciences and then on to study a master’s degree in counseling. Which is where her skillset now lies, helping teens to become the best possible versions of themselves. What better role model, than Erica herself?

My question to her was, why running? Sure, we could discuss her recent race, the Jacksonville marathon, where she ran a 3 hours 38 minutes with change (impressive). We could chew the fat about her big races of years past. We could skip along her athletic journey. But what I truly want to comprehend is why Erica runs, what keeps her running as she grows older and as her body changes? How does one move through time, life and keep being able to bound through marathon after marathon, still relishing the journey, the struggle and achievement? Of course, with age we slow down. We may peak in our 20’s or 30’s, and then we must adjust our goals or reason to run. Or maybe the reason has always been a constant, never wavering, concrete?

Erica was not a college runner, but she always ran. It was a part of her day, her routine, her wellbeing. I mean, there was no cross-country girls’ team in her high school and with there being no set path to her education, she flitted to different colleges as her degree focus shifted, Erica never settled in a track team. Remember these were different times, Title IX was only introduced in 1972, which brought about equality in sports and increased athletic opportunities for females; hence let’s have a female cross – country track team!

Now comes the history lesson: –

The following is the original text as written and signed into law by President Richard Nixon in 1972:

No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.

— Cornell Law School’s Legal Information Institute (20 U.S. Code § 1681 – Sex)

Did you know It was not until 1967 that Kathrine Switzer became the first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon. She was subjected to disgruntled officials trying to shove her off the course, because at the time women were still deemed unable to compete at these distances.

Did you know that a female was not allowed to run an Olympic marathon until 1984? It was at the L.A games and the race was won by the phenomenal Joan Benoit in a time of 2:24.52

Yet, Erica kept on running. And at age 24 years, completely self-trained, she ran her first marathon. It was in 1984 at the NYC marathon, the same year Joan Benoit ran her first Olympic marathon. Serendipitous? I think so.

Taking another sip of delicious tea (I am British after all), I ask her what it is about that distance she holds so dear? She goes on to explain that the beauty of the marathon for her is, “We have everything in life all laid out, but in the marathon you must struggle, you have to move to a painful place and reemerge to finish. Every time you run one you learn something new.” Erica carries on expressing that running is not something she “needs” but, “it is a part of my life. I do not feel good unless I run. So, I run.” It is a parallel to breathing, eating and being. Without it, things stop ticking over and equilibrium is disrupted.

After Erica’s recent impressive time at Jacksonville, she will be running Boston again for 2020, this will be her thirteenth time, almost four months shy of her sixtieth birthday. How has her training changed? How has she coped with slowing down? Erica confesses, that yes, it is difficult mentally, not to be as speedy as she was in her twenties, but it is the process of the run that is the challenge and the drive, not necessarily her speed. As you can see, she is still kicking ass in her age group. She goes on to explain that strength training has become a greater focus as she has aged, because with age, we lose muscle mass. It is also about respecting her body, avoiding injury and letting her muscles and mind rest. She now does yoga to help with her strength and flexibility. All of this has meant she can still do “that thing” she loves.

If you know Erica, you know you cannot have talk about her running, without discussing Boston, her heart race. I ask her what it is about the Boston that she finds so beautiful and engaging that it keeps drawing her back? She explains that on top of it being the oldest marathon in the world, when Boston is run on Patriots day, the whole city stops, the whole city comes out to cheer, it is a holiday, a tradition and it is a tough course with those hills. Erica’s feet have pounded the course from Hopkinton to Copley Square in 1988, 1994, 1995, 1997, 2000, 2001 and then she decided to try her hand at triathlons for 10 years (as you do) and then continued her streak every year from 2012 – 2017, 2019 and now 2020. Need a blow for blow account of running Boston, Erica Szilagyi is your number one resource.

What I love about Erica is her openness, her resilience, her passion and that there is an innate gentleness simmering underneath. This makes her quick to care, nurture and to see the good. She strives to be better. There is so much more to her than what you see. For instance, she paces every year at the Naples Half Marathon, pushing others to achieve their own goals, a pursuit she finds enriching. I want to know more. We move into her five-year plan. What does she have left to achieve, when you have already achieved so much, and this is where you truly see the woman that is Erica Szilagyi?

5 year – run plan

Run the Comrades Marathon (55 miles) in South Africa, it is the world’s oldest and largest ultramarathon established in 1921. Women are currently excelling at these longer distances; I am excited to see her knock this out of the park.

To stay healthy and continue to run.

To continue to run Boston. (You know she will and continue to strive.)

5 year – life plan

To explore, express and celebrate her creativity with her painting and writing. Erica also would like to join the Peace Corps. I could not think of a more perfect person to travel the world and help others.

While interviewing Erica, I certainly did not have enough time, and I most definitely do not possess the adequate vocabulary to give her the written justice she deserves. How can one condense her journey so far, her commitment to her sport, her successes, her challenges in to one article? She is strong and has so much to give. Just like in her twenties, she is still growing, changing and evolving in life and her sport. For me though, I will remain an interested bystander, watching in fascination and delight as she pursues her goals. She will most certainly still crush the marathon. But to see her attempt a longer distance is something I cannot wait to witness, because for Erica Szilagyi even though her speed may be winding down, I believe her true potential is only just beginning to shine through. Erica may be turning 60 years old in 2020, but her running journey is far from finished and may even be just truly beginning.

MORE Erica Szilagyi stats

-Favorite sneakers – Training – Saucony Kinvara, Racing – Nike Vaporfly

-Fuel – Gu, Sports Beans.

-Trademark – A big smile and positive outlook

-Inspirational figures – Betty Lou Tucker from the Gulf Coast runners, still running in her eighties.

-Thing most people do not know about her – She loves to paint, journal and garden.

-Special power – Experience, talent and grit.

-Furthest run – 50K.

Darkest little secret….

WOW that sounds sinister?! Why do secrets languish in the shadows of guilt. Why is it wrong to admit the truth to something that is deemed against the norm? Am I scaring you yet? Pssttt, I am not a killer, sorry that would have been exciting gossip for the parents at the school gate? No, I do not have a favorite child, well to be honest that actually changes on a daily basis. Hey and before you mount your towering horse of parenting judgement, I love them equally, but for their differences and quirks. One cannot quantify love, it cannot be seen or held, only felt and how can one measure a feeling. Well I cannot. Good for you if you can.

Lets get it out there…

I Kelly Joy, GULP, sometimes wish I had a illness so great, that I am bed ridden for a few days. Enabling me to get off the whirlwind that is modern life. Hey and before we go all batshit crazy on this, I do not mean cancer or some other terrible heartache many humans have to navigate, just a nice dose of “friendly virus”. It can be uncomfortable and hurt, so it allows me to have a perfect excuse, just to not to get up. I can hide under those dark, deep covers of sanity. Away from the family chores, the cleaning, the responsibility of my children, my work, the bills, the scheduling, the driving. All the things I can never get to, that compound on my shoulders, weighing me down. My fight to push myself to a sub 3 HR marathon, balancing work, running and family, trying to cook a nutritious home cooked meal, bake cakes, organize birthday parties, vacations, getting to each of my children and giving them what they need at any given moment, to fight aging and look attractive against the sea of under 40 parents, the fear my husband may leave me for a younger model. Be put together and calm, follow social rules, think of others before myself, a good friend, a kind person, give back, organize Christmas, keep in touch with family abroad… ARRGGGHHHH I Just cannot keep my fucking head above the water line. I almost drown daily and thank god I am a pretty good swimmer, as I have always swam against the tide.

Can you believe, I curl up and cry and hide, SHOCKER? Sometimes I wish for a dose of friendly flu, so I can avoid and hide and sleep, I just want to sleep all bloody day and not empty the dishwasher for the 10 millionth time or listen to my kids kick the shit out of each other, not cook dinner, fold washing …. just sleeeep. Crazy huh?

Before you go all preachy and worried. No I am not depressed, never have been, I love life, I love adventures, I love my boys. My anxiety is gone, so have my panic attacks (thanks to my 40 miles a week of running), my anorexia is managed, I have great friends, an awesome husband, but life is messy and busy and cluttered and sometimes I want it all to stop for 24HRS. Like the Thanos SNAP and then we go back and start again, clean slate, tidy life, to go forth and mess it the fuck up again, as that is what life is, a long messy transition from birth to death. With so much love, living and being thrown in between.

Dirty little secret it may be? I am sure people will think I need help, or am nuts, or not coping, but who the fuck does not need help, is normal ( I hate that word) and is coping, no one I know on the inside. Why should it be a secret, why can we not share and care, love and help, laugh and cry together over this tectonic ride we are on, forever moving and changing.

I will always feel every moment, I will cry hard and laugh loudly, enjoy the good, balance along walls, cartwheel in the grass, sing to my favorite song, love with all my might and not apologize for my honesty. But I will be honest and not be perfect and a pain in the ass, a bee in your ear, revealing all I am and reflecting all you will not share and with that I am giving you permission to reveal, break down, join my party in life and that is my gift to you. I give you my dirty secret and honesty, so you can be you and release and know I am way crazier and needy than you will ever be. Don’t mind if I do.

You are so very welcome.

KKJ

Mental fright makes me write!

I have not written for a very long time. The weird but not so weird thing is, that my articulation peaks when my writing comes from a deep dark place of fear and angst. Maybe, that is why I am attracted and yearn for that place at times, where I am caught up in a whirlwind of mental anguish, when I am desperately crawling my way out, fingernails dirty and ripped from that pitch black hole of anxious panic. As in those times when I am raw, are the moments when I feel most alive, I can grab my humanity and inspect it, all up close and personal. At those times, my insides are worn on my outside and I am truly alive in its purest form. My soul is receptive to every stimulus it encounters, absorbing, processing, feeling. I am me at my most vulnerable and raw.

This last year, I have been happy, so so happy, but in a way I feel has dulled my creativity and expression. Yes, I have been saved by running, yes you can call me dramatic, but the highs of my running and the adrenaline coursing through my veins at the end of a long run or race or ultra marathon, has replaced the high of my anxiety. I have made new friends and I am finally beginning to find a greater number of people who think and feel and strive for what my heart desires. Yet, my ability to create and express has disappeared, It is like my happiness is a shield to my internal, to the darkest depths and to the core of what makes me Kelly, yes, sometimes I miss her. I crave her view on life.

I yearn for the pain on occasion, it is like I need to check my brain still feels and can create moments of a higher awareness, in tune with the energy waves around me, from others in pain, I want them to know I understand, I accept and I want to give them the energy that bubbles under my skin. Often clarity came to me in the moment of a panic attack, it was like the brain crushing fear, brought a moment of purest focus, where the world became 4D / HD and every detail and noise was so clear and bright it hurt. I can still create that when I run, those last 6 miles or a marathon or endurance run and my brain stills, the world gets silent but so sharp and it is just the energy of my muscles pushing faster and faster, my steady rhythmic breath – in and out and nothing hurts, everything is working together in harmony and I feel like this will never end and I don’t want it to and then exertion and pain slam down, muscles screaming, tiredness crashes on to me like a wave and I push through, chanting “I have fucking got this, one foot in front of the other, I have fucking got this, breathe and settle, breathe and settle” and once again the world is clear and my body moves on, it is almost like my feet are floating and I feel nothing but everything, simultaneously. I can not describe how that is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

I write to feel, I write to create my world, I write to share and I write for others. I write so you know it is OK to share, it is OK to be, as life likes to call it “mentally ill” and it is this what makes you the most wonderfully alive human being, open to life, working in harmony with nature and surviving.

It is for you I write and expose my deepest emotions, my crazy thoughts (PS I love crazy) and it is to you I share my humanity.

KJ.

The cracks of aging….

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what if the beholder is YOU? And you really hate the way you look?

Its common knowledge I had body issues. As a child I was deemed an ugly duckling, but that was probably because I had an emaciated body and a skull for a head as my mind and body was ravaged, then abused by Mrs Anorexia. Well I got over that, but I have always been very critical about the way I look. Yes I am shallow, as shallow as a puddle. you would never drown in my puddle.

When I was younger I always knew I was not ugly, but I was never comfortable in my own skin to truly love myself. So in classic style I used to seek approval about the way I looked. I did not care it could be male or female I just needed the reassurance that you thought I was pretty. I always needed new clothes, a different hairstyle, a new cool lipstick to chase the you are fucking ugly demons away, to shut that part of me down, that personality trait is a very ugly part of me.

I wish that I did not care. I wish so hard for that. But in a land where most of my friends are having Botox, lip fillers, boob jobs, its so very tempting to join in. To join the my forehead does not move crowd. Part of me would like to grow old disgracefully and not go down that route.

I have entered the 2nd year of my forties and shit its all going south, the crows feet are deeper (I would almost say a crow would be very jealous of these feet), yes I can affectionately call them laughter lines, but believe me, superficial Kelly really wishes she had not laughed quite so much. The deep crevices beginning to channel their way down the sides of my mouth, could almost be called a continental divide, fuck why did I have to smoke for 10 years of my life (because I loved smoking that’s why).

I drink coffee, I drank alcohol to excess in my twenties, occasionally in my thirties and the yearly reminder of why not to do this in my forties. I dabbled in narcotics and naughty white powders, danced in dark club’s until dawn and have still not had a full night sleep since having Rugrats All of which have eroded and broken my three layers of epidermis. Regretfully awesome, to have had so much damn fun that something had to give. Hey but I consume blueberries, spinach and avocados, they should fix the damage, right? Right?

Technology does not help my withering confidence and increasing hatred of looking in a mirror. As HD photography highlights every tiny crack in my face, I find myself refusing to smile, turning my head to show my better side, to always wear sunglasses to hide those eyes, oh those deep set eyes of mine, how I despise you. But I keep taking selfies (oh dreaded selfie) over and over again, take, delete, take, delete, hoping that it is not true that somehow a pretty picture will come out and I am 20 again. Now every picture is just revealing what I do not want to see or know. Aging is a process I cannot stop and have to embrace so hard that it becomes something I love and not battle against (or at least suffocate) How? Answers on a postcard please. Or a Whats app. Whatever works.

My bathroom cupboard is bursting forth like a vomiting “Rosemary’s baby” of anti wrinkle creams, hoping that each will reverse the inevitable or at least putty fill the current cracks. Sadly, mending my face is not mending the way I think and feel, or the huge break in my mind to get a grip of. I really need to get a grip. I am bloody old for Christ sake, I need to not actually give a shit. Old people never give a shit about anything.

My husband gets better with age, I just get worse. How does that even work?

Trawling through Instagram, I cannot believe these 40 plus year old celebs look so amazing, young and so so so beautiful. I want to be a stronger, better person, to figure out how to erase the ugly glasses at which I judge the physicality of my being. I may just have to stop wearing my glasses, I look better blurry. 🙂

My kids call me old, yes I am old, being old makes me sad, what makes me angry is that I cannot rise above the aging process and not give a flying fuck. The key has to be to live like a puritan, never use a mirror and to never go out in the sun. But is the aspiration of a sagging youth worth not having fun or experiencing anything ever again. No it is not. I am at a stalemate and I need to win.

Clearly I just need to drink more water, as this seems to be the answer for everything 🙂

Or grow a very long fringe.

Or ALWAYS have my hair tied back for a DIY face lift.

Or just bathe in Kale.

Or if you know a good plastic surgeon or have discounts on Botox, please give me a call.

Anxie – tea and biscuits.

I wanted to share this – this picture is of me going through serious anxiety and repeated panic attacks. I look calm and together. Inside I am unraveling and panicking continuously. I think I am going to die… literally! and my mind is broken and fuzzy. The only thing that makes me keep some form of sanity are the kids. Today I have googled continuously the symptoms of a heart attack and any form of light that suggests I am ok? I know rationally it’s my anxiety and I need to breathe and focus and meditate and slow down. But when you are in a pit of overwhelming fear and confusion, it’s very hard to climb out. I can feel it lifting as I take those steps. But it will be a good week before I’m back to “normal”. I wanted to share this picture to show you, anxiety like any mental illness cannot be seen from the exterior. This is essentially a picture of me crumbled and destroyed and barely keeping my shit together… and you would never know. I don’t need sympathy but just an understanding that I am one of many and kindness is key to anyone struggling. #anxiety #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness

Flu, have an opinion?

With the current flu pandemic effecting most states, the topic of vaccinations and children, once again raises its head.

Whether you do or do not, get a trained medical professional to stick a needle into your kids arm or thigh and administer a clear (potentially life saving) liquid into your child’s tiny little body, that is your right to do so.  I have many friends who do not vaccinate and I have many friends who do.

It’s such a personal choice and we may not agree on each others choices, but its ours, we have to remember that. I vaccinate, my personal belief that, way over the idea of metals being placed in my kids bodies and the potential side effects, I would rather that, than them, getting flu or polio or some other eradicated, previously life threatening disease. You can tell me I am dumb or pour out some spiel from some study, by some person. But I will never not vaccinate, like I could never convince someone to vaccinate who has chosen not to. The fallacy or reality (as remember it has not ever been really proven) that they can cause autism is a chance I will (repeatedly) take if it saves my kids life and the life of a sick child or a child too young to be vaccinated. My eldest, which is common knowledge, has high functioning Autism. Was it his shots at birth that caused this, who the hell knows? Is it genetic, or the way he was born, we will never know? But, I feel he has a far better chance to best the odds if he ever gets sick, which currently he has not. He is brilliant and healthy.

The thing is I will vaccinate and take the supposed risks, as I believe there are far worse threats to my kids life, food dyes in food (banned in Europe) as its proven they cause hyperactivity and cancer. I will never ever let my kids drink a Gatorade, Froot loops, MnM’s – again my choice, my belief, my opinion, good or bad. My kids will always wear a bike helmet when they cycle, I avoid hard candy (coloring’s and choking threats) and the list continues.

We all do what is best for our children and we may never agree, but we must respect, I will always love a person for their hearts and kindness. You may believe in God, I believe in science. You may like Trump, I do not. You believe in the right to own a gun, I never will. I love you and and I may never agree with you, but I value your ideas and thoughts. As long as you are not a racist, chauvinist, a bigot or narcissist, I will always sit and wait for your side, your thought out idea and the argument for or against. I hope people can always do this and not be blinkered to shut down and push out friends for having opposing beliefs. It makes us unique. Listening, not accusing or shouting creates community and understanding, respect and kindness. I will always like/love a friend if they just have the ability to listen and not bombard, accuse or demean a thought or another person.

We all do our best by our children and our fear and love for them is what drives us to keep them happy, loved, well and safe. For me that is one thing and that includes a shot to the arm every year from Flu, to you that is not, to me that is science at its best, to you that is a money making machine. We will always beg to differ.

Beauty

Truly is in the eye of the beholder. We surely do not behold the beauty in ourselves, externally or internally. Women suck at liking themselves.

This evening I sat with 3 girlfriends, all unique, all beautiful in completely different ways and none of them could see it. Gorgeous smiles , kind hearts, rocking bodies, complete sexy packages and not one of them could see it and accept their awesomeness. What creates this self doubt and internal blindness. Society? Men? Religion? Other women? Who said beauty had to look a certain way? What makes that way beautiful ? I want to know? I want to see this perfection! Where is it? Who has it? All of us do? But none of us believe it see .,

It breaks my heart. That so much delight, is not beheld or loved by the person who owns it.

Why? and when will we find it? Secretly in our rooms when no one is watching? After taking 300 selfies to get the perfect shot, we’ve all done it?

Or never?

Or maybe?

But we need to see ourselves for what we are, The great, gross, beauty, banality of our being, accept, appreciate, not always love, but realize it is what makes us unique, one of a kind and no one else has this. It’s special and crazily wonderful.

For Cat ❤️

I finally dig yoga. Thank fuck.

These are the voyages of the star sprite Kelly – ise, to seek out new worlds and new civilizations, to boldly go where no mentally unstable girl has gone before – Cue muzak  Well it goes something like that, doesn’t it?

For 30 longish years I have waded through the the boggy recesses of my fucked up mind, pushing against the tide of blah blah blah, a whole messy bunch of mental failure and drear-some darkness. Sporadically punctuated by a few bright splashes of my real self. All shiny, exuberant and full of fun loving deliciousness. I have frequently and repeatedly been told I should meditate (which I am completely shite at) and do Yoga (with whom I have a long hate hate relationship with) Why? You ask. let me enlighten you…..

Tooooo damn slow.

Too much damn lycra.

Too many embarrassing, creepy (stolen from my current yoga instructor) deep breathing.

The music is too slow

Too expensive

I could go on. In short I would have rather gone to a spin class, with booming house music and sweated my ass off. Which is what I did for 30 years.

I did pregnancy yoga, but I got dizzy and still had to have the cesarean (3 times). I tried floaty, religousy yoga, well I do not believe in god (sorry to all my religious friends, he does not exist)  and that may have been helpful. I did the spiritual, incense laden, lets travel to India yoga, all very nice but to much arm pit hair and unwashed pony tails in a room (ahh now I know why there is so much incense). I tried, the fit, hot, rich mum yoga, but in short they are not at all friendly unless you drive a Range Rover and have an account at Lululemon, I drive a big fat Yukon, affectionately known as the Polar bear – she is a white car and I wear yoga gear that are Target specials.

So after those long years of  discovery bullshit, I walked in to “The Yoga Lab”. I sub sequentially found my yoga home. The people are friendly, but not obnoxious, the drop in fee is reasonable, they are trippy and enlightened, but not dippy and dull. The class is fast and the instructor admits to his own failures, the yoga is not pretty, but pushes me to work hard and challenges me both in my body and mind. The music is loud and big on the bass, it is hot and sweaty and not at one moment can my anxieties take over and defeat me. There is no time, all my energy is exhausted by my screaming muscles and my focused mind. Yes there is Lycra abound and the deep creepish breathing (I still struggle with that and want to punch the nearest person), no one is posing or prancing like a wanker, but it is dark and the energy is flowing and nothing can escape the room or enter it once that hour starts. We are taught to keep our joy and not give it away, to stand still and be, to not let life rob us of our internalization and freedom, we have to just be and to just be silent and still.

At last my eureka moment. I feel like I have finally understood this practice, or have I found a practice that has finally understood me. In that hour I only feel the sparks of my light, I feel like I am glowing and not hiding in the shade and shadows of the anxiety filled recesses of my psyche.

No one needs me or wants me in those carefully carved out moments, so I can only be who I am, who I am meant to be and that is Kelly.

POEM

Yesterday I quit Facebook,

Today I skipped my Prozac.

2 months ago I abstained from coffee,

Lets hope Mrs Anxiety does not come back.

My heart has not raced yet – Phew

My breathing remains long – Ahhhh

I have not broken down just yet – Woo Hoo

Not sure if I will stay strong.

Last week I thought I was Asperger s,

I think it will be my excuse.

For when I crumble and go nutty,

When I ramble and become obtuse.

The fear is mounting, I push it down,

What will happen with no drugs?

Thank Fuck, I still have alcohol,

Not an alcoholic yet, as I’m not hiding it in mugs.

The peace away from social media is lovely,

Functioning without SSRI s is divine.

I kinda really miss the coffee,

Not panicking is sublime.

I am not sure what I am,

or who I will become?

I never really fitted in to life,

But being odd is fun.

So good bye Facebook, you will be missed,

Prozac I am stronger than you.

Coffee, oh coffee, you are so so loved,

And Anxiety I will beat you too.