It’s spring! The cruise ships are arriving!

Every year about this time the cruise lines start moving their ships from their winter ports to their summer ports. This is the season of Panama Canal cruises and coastal cruises, as there is no point in moving empty ships from the Caribbean to Seattle! For those of us overlooking the waters of western Washington, the first sight of a cruise ship moving through the strait is a sure sign that spring has finally arrived.

My small town has a beautiful deep harbor. Every year or so one or more of these transitional cruises will include a stop here. Passengers have the opportunity to disembark, stroll through downtown, and enjoy the shops and restaurants. For the more adventurous, there is the option of taking an excursion tour to our mountains, rain forests, and rocky beaches.

Yesterday Holland America’s ms Oosterdam came to town. As it happens, this is an identical sister ship to the Westerdam, on which I’ll be cruising to Alaska at the end of July as a participant in the Great Alaskan Marathon. This is a staged marathon, meaning that we’ll run four races adding up to 26.2 miles during the week of the cruise. I’m excited about the opportunity to see Alaska, run on spectactular trails and through quaint (and steep) downtown streets, and mingle with a bunch of other runners for a whole week.

Yesterday, actually seeing a ship just like the one I’ll be on really ramped up my enthusiasm! I headed downtown for as close a look as possible. Security was rather tight at the dock, so I drove out to the hook (the natural sand spit that frames the harbor) for a panoramic view of the ship and the downtown area. It dwarfed my downtown!

The smaller ship you see on the far left is the ferry that takes cars and people from here to Victoria BC. That ferry is 341 feet long and carries 110 vehicles plus 1,000 passengers. The Oosterdam is 936 feet long and carries 1,916 passengers, 817 crew members, and all the restaurants, theatres, casinos, sport courts, swimming pools, and other assorted accoutrements that make up the cruising experience.

The large tan building just to the right of the Oosterdam belongs to a company that builds “super-yachts.” The largest model, built here in my town, is 163 feet and generally includes a heliport. Picture a 163-foot yacht emerging from that building — it’s huge! But it would look like a dingy next to the Oosterdam.

Back at my house later I could just see the Oosterdam from my bedroom window, but I had a panoramic view of it when it departed at 11:00 PM and glided out of the harbor, all lit up like a multi-layer birthday cake. Cruising season has begun! Later this summer, finally, I won’t be one of those watching from shore when my ship moves through the strait en route to Alaska.

Meanwhile, I continue to keep moving, adding bike rides and hikes to my 3-day-a-week running schedule. I’m getting some form of real-world exercise just about every day, which is why I’m blogging less even though I theoretically have more time in my post-corporate day. I’m still wobbly on the bicycle, but on my hikes (encouraged and accompanied by new friends) I’ve successfully met the challenges of steep hills and small stream crossings. I’m going to have to invest in rain gear, however, as I don’t much enjoy getting wet and cold.

In past years I would have retreated to my treadmill on anything less than a “perfect” sunny day, but I’m finally learning that life is too short to wait for a “perfect” day. So tonight is beer running night, and whatever the weather, I’ll meet running friends for a short run along the waterfront followed by wonderful locally-brewed beer.

Rain? Wind? Mud? Bring it on! I am a Pacific Northwesterner by choice, and this is my home.

Finally! The elusive sub-30 minute 5K

Way back on January 20 I wrote about my big hairy audacious lifetime-probably-impossible running goals for 5K, 10K, and half marathon. Of the three, a sub-30 minute 5K seemed the most doable, and I’ve been actively chasing that goal for a few months now. I’d gotten tantalizingly close with a 30:13 on April 4. I think I may have done it on April 6, but I forgot to check my watch at 3.1 miles so I can’t count it.

Today I did it, fair and square.

Although I’ve been home for two weeks, I somehow haven’t made it downtown for a Thursday evening beer run until tonight. The first week I was still too tired from four days of driving plus packing and unpacking, and I didn’t go. Last Thursday I didn’t go but I can’t recall why… perhaps it was raining.

This morning, even though it was raining, I woke up already looking forward to a brisk waterfront run followed by a wonderful locally-brewed beer.

I figured I’d run 3-4 miles tonight. The rain had stopped and it was a bit breezy but not too cold. Only three other people showed up,  but it was nice to be welcomed by running acquaintances whom I hadn’t seen in four months. The usual discussion of pace and distance ensued. They all said they ran “slowly,” in the 9 to 10 minute per mile range, and that they planned to run 3-4 miles. I shrugged and said that I’d be well behind them, while thinking to myself, “I can do that, and I can let them set the pace for me.”

They took off running, and I stayed with them. We were running along at about a 9:45 pace. Approaching the end of the first mile, they sped up. I did too, but I couldn’t keep up with them and had to let them go. I kept them in sight, however, and I kept pushing. I did the second mile (which included my turnaround point) in about 9:40. Then I did the third mile in 9:04. The last tenth of a mile was a waltz! I hit the stop button on my Garmin at 29:30 and walked the rest of the way back to the brewpub.

Mission accomplished! Big hairy audacious lifetime-probably-impossible goal smashed! I know, it was unoffical but I get to count it!

I celebrated with a lovely local porter — dark, sweet, and creamy.

Now I’ll have to set myself a new lifetime-probably-impossible 5K goal. Or maybe I’ll focus on the most doable of my remaining two original goals. Perhaps not on the hilly course of my hometown half marathon… but I think maybe, just maybe, a sub-2:30 half marathon is realistically attainable. Maybe at the lovely, flat Victoria race in October???

One step at a time.

By the numbers

I love spreadsheets — don’t you?

I’ve mentioned my running log here before. Lots of runners have running logs, in which they keep track of planned miles, miles actually run, hh:mm:ss run, average pace, and so on and on and on… Yes, I have one of those. I also have a spreadsheet in which I loosely track time spent doing various physical activities, from running to house cleaning to “power walks” through Costco (bobbing and weaving around the slower shoppers).

The other day I created a new spreadsheet called “Bike Rides.xlsx”. That’s right, I made good on my promise to myself, got the bicycle out of the garage, and did a slowwww 8.7 mile ride along the waterfront and out along the natural sand spit that surrounds the harbor. I rode with a friend, and met up with other friends (who were walking) along the way. It was a glorious, sunny, mild spring day. My knees only complained a little, and I felt strong and happy afterwards. But somehow the experience wasn’t complete until I’d come home, created the spreadsheet, and logged the data for my first ride.

I have a whole series of weather spreadsheets. I’m not sure I’ve mentioned this here before, but I’ve been an amateur weather watcher since the day 20+ years ago when I was surprised by an early snow storm that messed up my commute home (at the time I was living in the mountains of southern California and commuting many miles down to “the flat land” for work). After that experience I decided I needed to be aware of weather patterns and learn to be my own forecaster, so I installed the first of several automated weather stations and — you guessed it — logged each day’s data in a spreadsheet. Because I’ve moved about every two and a half years I don’t have many years of data from any one place, but I do have many spreadsheets with data from all those many places. Now that I’ve been in my current house for over four years (not counting those seasonal jaunts down south that I won’t have to do anymore), I’m actually beginning to develop a useful database for this location. During all the time I was gone, my weather station dutifully logged the details for each day, which I was able to retrieve when I returned home. So I can tell you that we’ve had 11.13″ of rain since January 1, and that this is just about normal for this time of year. We’ve had a relatively mild winter (the low temperature was 24 degrees) despite all the warnings that this would be a cold, snowy Pacific Northwest “La Nina” winter.

Yet even though I was armed with all this data including the fact that the thermometer read 55 degrees, when I went out for my long run last Sunday my brain insisted, “Bundle up!” I went out in my winter-weight, full-length compression tights and a long-sleeved shirt over a tank top. I planned to run 7-8 miles, and I ended up running 7.55 miles. I tried to back off the brisk pace of my last few shorter runs, but still ended up surprising myself by running nearly a minute per mile faster than I’ve ever been able to sustain for a longer distance. I do believe my compression running tights are magical… but it could also be that all this hiking and now biking is building muscle strength that keeps me going longer and stronger.

While I relished the pace (which was still slow enough to allow me to enjoy the eagles, loons, and harlequin ducks along the way), I didn’t relish how warm I got. I couldn’t do anything about the tights, but before the end of the run I had pulled off that long-sleeved shirt and I was loving that tank top. Pacific Northwest weather? If it could always be like this, there would be millions more people living here!

But don’t get all excited and move up here — sure enough, today it was in the high 40s and drizzly all day. I had planned to run but I looked out the window and decided to curl up with a good book on my iPad and an iPod playlist that was heavy on British invasion classic rock.

Besides the numbers that I keep in spreadsheets, other numbers have been heavy on my mind this week. Yesterday I bagged up Kurt’s clothes to take them to a local charity. There were eight large bags by the time I was done. Kurt was one of those people whose weight was a constant yo-yo. He could gain or lose 50 pounds easily. He had multiple wardrobes that ranged over several sizes. There were clothes spread across four different closets. I got through all of them. I also tackled some of his papers and personal items, but there are still many more to sift through. It may take me months to years to go through the collections and Porsche-related stuff.

I only had two really rough moments with the things I went through yesterday. I had an unexpected enounter with his wedding ring… I carefully put it away again. The other thing was going through the few clothing items that he was using just before he died. Those clothes were hanging in the downstairs closet where I’d put them when he could no longer climb stairs. Those clothes still smelled like him as I was folding and bagging them. That was difficult… but when I was done, I felt the lightening sensation of relief.

One foot in front of the other.

There is one other set of numbers that I am dealing with this week. Monday was ten months since Kurt died. This Friday would have been his 65th birthday. Saturday will be 19 years since my mother died, coincidentally also of lung cancer at age 64.

Friday night I am planning to go out with friends. While I must and will look back and wish him a silent, sad “happy birthday,” I also need to move forward. I have new friends, new interests, new directions in my life. I know that he expected and wanted me to enjoy life and feel happiness again. I am trying very hard to do just that. It’s just that, sometimes, the numbers can feel overwhelming when they pile all over me like this. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try to make them all add up neatly… they just don’t.

One step at a time.

Compression tights, fallen trees, and eagles (oh my!)

I’ve been home for over a week now and I still wake up wondering, “Why is it so quiet? What’s happened to the hum of traffic?” Then I remember that I’m home and I smile… no matter how gloomy the sky outside may look. I’m home!

I alternate my time between sifting and organizing stuff (or at least thinking about it) and finding new ways to be active. I’ve done a couple of low-elevation, muddy hikes through thick forests. The snow is still lying low on the foothills, so it will be a while before I venture up into the mountains, but I enjoy catching glimpses of them when the clouds cooperate. At the moment it’s partly cloudy and 49; I can’t see the mountains but I have a clear view across the strait. It’s a glorious day.

I’ve taken to running in compression tights again, initially because they are warmer than conventional long pants (and they make me LOOK like a runner), but now because they are working well for my knees and legs. I’m running faster than I ever thought possible. A sub-10 minute mile is no longer a ridiculous dream; I can even string together multiple sub-10 minute miles.

I can even string together multiple sub-10 minute miles when I encounter unexpected obstacles! Today I ran 4.2 miles on a section of the trail that I hadn’t yet done since I got home. The trail in this area runs along the waterfront at the base of the bluff. There were several sections that had recently been cleared of mudslides, but overall the trail was in pretty good shape. Then I came to a freshly-fallen tree lying completely across the trail. I probably lost 30 seconds figuring out how to scramble over and through it — and I still ran that mile in under 10 minutes.

Immediately after the fallen tree I had a closer than usual encounter with two immature bald eagles, each sitting in low branches directly overhead, probably 10 yards above me and 30 yards apart. They watched me closely as I went by, and I returned the favor.

As I was doing an out-and-back run, I got to see the eagles twice and also scrambled through the tree twice. I was a little quicker getting through the tree the second time. Maybe I could get used to running obstacle courses!

I finished my 4.2 miles in just over 41 minutes, feeling strong and very happy. I just love it when everything works so well.

I took my bicycle down to the bike shop where I bought it several years ago and had it tuned up. I had probably put less than 20 miles on it when I parked it, and I’ve hardly looked at it since. Tomorrow I may ride it… or maybe I’ll take another hike… or maybe I’ll do both. On Sunday I’m planning a longer, slower run… maybe 7 or 8 miles.

Then maybe I’ll get back to sifting, organizing, and reducing my stuff. I’m not feeling any great urgency about that. It’s emotionally and physically demanding work, so I’m perfectly comfortable doing a little bit at a time. I have lots of time.

“How did I ever have time to work?”

Well, it’s happened. I know I’m truly post-corporate now because I’m looking back and asking myself how I ever found the time to work. The last three weeks have been so jam-packed with activities that there is no way I could have done it all if I were still working.

I’m home at last!

Because I didn’t have to worry about carefully shepherding my vacation days, I was able to take the long way up the coast, adding a hundred miles or so and an extra day to my trip. The luxury of time enabled me to avoid the stress of “will the mountain passes be snowed in?” by simply driving around the passes. It also allowed me to mosey… to drive up to and savor the view from Marin Highlands just north of the Golden Gate… to stop to watch a herd of elk in far northern California… to take my time fully wringing myself out after pumping gas in a wind-driven downpour in Crescent City… to visit with family members along the way. It was a good trip; two out of my three cats would agree (cat #3 complained the entire way).

I arrived home to find all those boxes of stuff that I’d shipped, neatly stacked at my front door. I have been gradually opening and dealing with each one. To make room for the stuff from the condo, I’ve had to get rid of other stuff. I bagged up nearly a third of my clothes and threw away other items until I filled my trash can. Now I’ve had to stop throwing things away until after trash pickup day next week.

Tomorrow I plan to start bagging Kurt’s clothing. I think I am ready to do that task now, but it will take me a bit longer before I can tackle his papers and other personal items.

One step at a time.

I’m having a little trouble so far re-adapting to the cool, damp weather in this part of the world. I bundle up hugely when I go out. I planned to go for a quick 2-mile run Friday afternoon, but I drove through a snow shower on the way to the trailhead. I sat in my car for a while trying to gauge the storm’s intentions, then ventured out when the snow turned back to rain. It was 37 degrees but did not feel too chilly until I got down to the waterfront and hit a headwind; I turned around grateful that I’d only intended to run two miles. The trail did feel great under my feet, however, and I felt happy to be running again. The trees are beginning to leaf out, the skunk cabbage is blooming, and there are robins everywhere. Spring is returning to the Pacific Northwest. I am happy to be here and I know that I am home.

This morning I headed out for a planned 6-mile run. It was a balmy 46 degrees and partly cloudy when I reached that same trailhead. I decided to try running some hills, so I went east into the woods instead of north and west to/along the waterfront. I ran 3.1 miles out and 3.1 miles back; this gave me a 10k run that included two steep down-and-up creek crossings (a nearly 25% grade according to my GPS watch) and some rolling hills. I surprised myself by handling the hills pretty well. I did need to take walk breaks, but my overall pace was about 15 seconds per mile faster than I’d hoped for.

I’m relieved to learn that I haven’t lost any strength or speed over my long break from running. My focus over the coming weeks will be on regaining my stamina and keeping a slow and steady pace over longer distances.

Slow and happy, that’s me. And getting better at both of those things… a little better every day.

The In-Between

I’m in the middle of packing and shipping some things, discarding other things, and mentally preparing myself to leave many things behind. Not surprisingly I suppose, in the middle of trying to do all this I got sick with a weird left-side-only ear/throat infection. It may have a physical cause (last Saturday I went hiking in a cold wind with periodic hard rain showers and I do recall having rain driven into my left ear), or it may be entirely due to the psychological stress of leaving this place and this part of my life behind me.

My physical surroundings are in total disarray. Yesterday I took 200 pounds worth of “stuff” to UPS and shipped it home. I’ve done a dump run, and this afternoon I’ll do a Goodwill run. Then I’ll have to figure out how to fit the artwork, electronic gadgets, and things needed en route into my car. My cats, that stuff, and I will hit the road within the next few days, leaving an unsold, mostly furnished condo behind. I’ll probably do another price reduction soon, and then cross my fingers that someone will want it furnished so I won’t have to come back later to dispose of the rest of the stuff. When I go, I want to be gone for good.

As far back as I can remember, leaving a place has been a gut-wrenching experience for me. Even leaving a place that I don’t want to be can be difficult. My choice to do a dissertation about the experience of being in a place was not an idle one; this was something deep that I really needed to understand about myself. Why do I get so attached to places? Why is it so hard for me to go? Why is it that, once I have left, I can hardly bear ever to return?

Once about ten years ago I had the opportunity to move back into a house that I’d loved very much but had had to leave about five years earlier. As much as I had loved that house and that town, I could not go back there. Partly that was because I didn’t want to be the person who’d lived there then, but mostly it was because leaving there had broken my heart and I didn’t want to risk having to go through it all again the next time. It was a house perched a mile high on the edge of a mountain range, overlooking a large portion of southern California. I looked down on millions of people, houses, cars, and lights. On a clear day I could see the ocean. I left it because keeping my job required it. I could no longer do the commute, which was 96 miles each way.

I am leaving this condo because I don’t need it; it is superfluous; it is holding me back. And yet I know what it meant to Kurt, and I know that he truly hoped I would keep it and live the life that he had wanted us to live. So this is me saying goodbye to something more complex and subtle than just another place.

I have other places to go…

It is time for me to say goodbye to this place.

Yet as I’ve said here a few times, this place does have its charms. Want another example? I took this photo the day I tried to go hiking in Joshua Tree National Park.

This was the day after the hike in the cold wind and rain, and hours before I realized I was getting sick. Although I’d expected to see snow and dressed accordingly, I wasn’t prepared for how cold blowing snow can feel when you’ve been in warm sunshine for the past few months. I was out of my car only long enough to take several photos.

It’s been a couple of weeks now since I’ve run, but right now I barely have the energy to walk, so I’m not worrying about not running. I expect to get right back on a regular schedule when I get home.

Right now, I am living in the in-between… but soon… I will be home.

How soon we forget

Less than three weeks after quitting my job, I’m getting more comfortable with this post-corporate thing. This morning I found myself trying to recall what that daily stress felt like… and it’s like it was another life, perhaps somebody else’s life. Everything that seemed important in that world is now simply gone. Just letting go of the effort to pretend I still cared is a huge stress relief in itself… without even considering the stress involved in actually trying to do the work.

While I’m loving the relaxed and carefree nature of this new life, I’m also having to let go of the idea that I’m going to run several times a week. I jump right out of bed when I awaken, but I’m waking up too late to feel enthusiastic about running. So I haven’t run since Sunday morning, and I have plans for the next several days that will keep me from running. But that’s all right because I did an absolutely wonderful hike yesterday. I returned to the Coachella Valley Preserve and tagged along with other hikers for a 6-mile, 4-hour hike way back into one of the less accessible palm oases that line the San Andreas Fault in this area. This hike involved walking along the tops of steep, spiny ridges and scrambling up and down boulder-strewn washes. I was rewarded by vistas that did not include obvious signs of human habitation. Yes, it is a bit of a moonscape, but there were moments when there were no airplanes overhead and the silence was profound.

If you look about dead center in this photo you can vaguely see a clump of palms that would be my eventual destination: Pushawalla Palms. The trail at this point runs along the ridgetop at the right.

Here I am just entering the oasis, and looking back up the wash that I had just hiked down:

At the canyon bottom there is a running stream; the palms line the stream for roughly half a mile. There were lots of wild animal prints here (large canines, felines, probable bighorn sheep and several birds) and in several side canyons that I cautiously explored. If any large carnivores saw me, they stayed hidden and out of the midday sun.

There was a slight breeze that caused the palms to rustle and whisper. It was, quite simply, a magical place.

The way out of the oasis was similar to the way in, but steeper and less well marked. Basically, the route was “turn left at the old truck wreck and scramble up to the ridgetop.” The actual way up is to the left of this photo and did not require scaling the cliff itself.

How did the truck get to such a remote location, you ask? Well, the ridgetop here turned out to be the edge of a level plain running several miles northward. Someone must have taken a wild ride across the moonscape, over the edge and down into the canyon.

While I’m not running as much as I’d intended, I feel strong and sturdy and I’m certainly not losing any muscle tone. Hiking up and down hills will actually be good preparation for the trail runs that I’ll be doing on the Alaska marathon cruise this summer!

Overall it was a great day. Hiking out there in the middle of nowhere, I am giving myself permission to do whatever I choose to and learning that I can, indeed, accomplish the things I want to do. That’s powerful learning. This is an exciting time of possibility, and I am relishing every moment of it.

Slow happy post-corporate person

My adjustment to post-corporate life continues, and will be a work in process for some time as I find my way to a new rhythm. Running in the early morning is now completely impossible (What? Set the alarm? Never!). I am experimenting with new venues for a late-afternoon run, but as spring approaches it will become too warm for a long run at any time of day. Last Wednesday I ran 4 miles beginning about 5:30 PM. While the temperature was fine, before the end of the run I was wishing I had worn my reflective vest.

This morning with the change to Daylight Saving Time I thought I’d try a morning run, but it was already 66 degrees when I started out at the crack of 10:30, and well over 70 by the time I completed a 5.63 mile loop through downtown and back. It was a good run, though — I planned it so it was downhill or level all the way back, and I backed off my recent pace by a full minute per mile. Slow and happy works for me.

I figure I’ll get serious about running again when I get home to Washington. My next planned race isn’t until early June, so as long as I stay active over the next few weeks I should still have plenty of time to increase my mileage on cool trails with soft running surfaces in April and May.

I’ve definitely been staying active. I have either run, hiked, or taken long city walks for 14 out of the 16 days since I left corporate life. A few days ago I hiked two miles up the Araby Trail and back. This is a well-traveled, moderately steep but well-marked and maintained trail that winds up to and beyond the Bob Hope house (designed by John Lautner). Most visitors to the area merely glimpse the house from their cars, as a large turtle-shaped structure high up on the hillside south of downtown. I took this photo shortly after passing the house, but I ended up a good 500 feet above it, and 1,000 feet higher than where I’d started.

Yesterday I returned to the Thousand Palms Oasis area and hiked in the other direction, high up on a ridge that was probably an earthquake scarp. This was a more remote location but I carried plenty of water, kept other hikers in sight, and felt comfortable out there. The view was great; I could see several oases tucked into various canyons, and also had a good long view across the valley. I forgot to take any photos, however. Afterwards I celebrated that hike with another date shake. I’m still amazed that it has taken me this long to find out what I’ve been missing! I have now even dared to eat fresh whole dates, although one at a time is plenty. They are not the most visually appealing fruit, but they do taste good.

I have done a price reduction on my condo. It is getting showings and I hear favorable feedback, but I have not yet had any serious nibbles. I am fully aware that this is a terrible time to sell real estate and I’m yet not desperate to sell it, so I am not losing any sleep over it. It will sell in time. I have lots of time.

Slow and getting slower

It’s hard for me to believe, but I have been post-employed for more than a week now. It seems that I have been quite busy, but looking back it’s actually difficult to recall how I have been spending my time.

The first several days felt like being on vacation, of the “stay-cation” variety. I slept. I slept a lot. For years I have used two alarms; the first one is happy music selected randomly by my iPod and the second, five minutes later, is a more strident buzzer alarm. Within the first few days I somehow accidentally deleted the music alarm completely. Last night I decided to turn off the buzzer alarm. I slept quite late this morning.

I’ve run a couple of times over the past week, but nothing too strenuous. I just can’t get excited about getting up at the crack of dawn, and later in the day it’s too warm and I get lazy. I’ve tried running in the late afternoons, using the local high school track after the sun has gone behind the mountain. That has worked all right and I’ve appreciated not having to be out on the streets in afternoon traffic. But let’s face it, running around a track is almost as boring as running on a treadmill!

So I’ve decided to be good to myself and let myself sleep and rest as much as I apparently need to do in this in-between time in my life. I plan to head northward back home before the end of the month, but I still have things I need to do here — getting rid of stuff and packing and shipping those things that I still want to keep. I’ll get busy doing that soon enough. Right now is about resting and de-toxing, and letting myself be OK with resting and de-toxing.

I haven’t been completely idle. I did a half-day trip around the Salton Sea, and managed to see both interesting wildlife and famous architecture! I enountered half a dozen white-faced ibises together in a marshy field — I’d only seen one white-faced ibis before in my entire life. Despite their name, they are decidedly brown birds.

At the recently-restored North Shore Yacht Club (an Albert Frey designed building at a long-defunct Salton Sea resort) I was thrilled to see two of my favorite things — white pelicans and mid-century modern architecture — in such close proximity that I was able to capture them in one photograph!

I’ve also had my first-ever date shake. I hated dates as a child but I decided to be daring and now I’m wondering how I allowed myself to miss out on this wonderful experience for so long! I highly recommend Windmill Market in Desert Hot Springs (featured in the current Sunset magazine as the home of the “best date shake in the desert”). The place doesn’t look great from the street but yes, the shakes really are that good.

I tried a little hiking on the trails leading from downtown PS straight up the mountain slopes, but the terrain was extremely steep and I didn’t feel entirely comfortable up there. This afternoon I visited Thousand Palms Oasis and hiked a short, flat trail from there to McCallum Pond. Native palm oases are an experience not to be missed! These oases sit directly atop the San Andreas Fault at a location where groundwater is forced to the surface. They are cool, dense havens for wildlife, which are generally heard but not seen amidst the thick trees. At one place in McCallum Pond I could literally see water bubbling up from the pond bottom, which is a little weird when you contemplate the tectonic forces that create this outwardly peaceful place.

Maybe that’s a good metaphor for me right now. I’m outwardly calm (much calmer than a couple of weeks ago) but there are all sorts of forces coming to the surface within me. I’m beginning to realize that all that stuff about “creating a new life” is real and urgently present for me, right now. While I have a lot of thinking and being and doing ahead of me, I also need to let myself slow down and become open to whatever emerges. I’m not so sure that I know who I am right now. My work, right now, is to become comfortable with that not-knowing.

Perhaps I shall become a Slow Happy Human.

What else happened today?

I don’t normally like to post two blog entries so close together, as it feels like I am upstaging myself. But the rest of what happened in my life today was just too momentous, and too weird, to put into a post that was all about devotion to extraordinary mid-century modern architecture.

As planned, today was my last day at work. I truly didn’t know what to expect, as it’s been 25 and a half years since I’ve quit a job, and I’ve never quit a job without another one waiting for me. So I started my day by running 4 miles, and barely got back in time for my very last meeting at 8:30. This was a simple one-on-one in which I demonstrated to a team mate how to update a web page that I’ve maintained. Once that was out of the way, I had a bunch of congratulatory posts to read on our company’s internal social media platform (I’d blogged there last night about today being my last day… sort of seeded my departure cloud, as it were). Quite a few people said really nice things about me, and that made me feel great albeit just a bit nostalgic. It’s too bad I seldom had the chance to feel so valued while I was actually there.

I took a mid-morning break to walk to the Loewy House, which is less than a mile from my condo. I returned a couple hours later, said a few more good byes, and printed off a bunch of forms that I’m supposed to fill out and return. Then I packed up my corporate cell phone and my corporate PC and took them to the nearest FedEx shipping center. And that was that. I am now free to move about my life.

Yes, it is a little scary (maybe a lot scary) but it also feels so right. I am courageous, I am resilient, and I have so much that I want to do in the real world. I’m going to be all right.