Bunnies to the Rescue!

Like most moms, I'm worried that my kids are spending too much time with their gadgets and gizmos. On a usual weekend, they'd be surfing the net or playing iPhone/Wii/PS2 games. Often, if I don't remind them, they'd be so occupied with their games and Internet activities that they'd neglect to take a bath or eat their meals on time.

Whenever I try to reduce their "tech time," they'd argue that they study all week, and they just want to relax and have fun on the weekend. True, I do forbid playing computer games on schooldays, and they are better-than-average students, so trying to tear them away from their beloved games on weekends does make me feel like I'm being an evil villainness. Besides, they say, they don't just play on the computer. They also do school research, email, paint, connect with their friends (who seem to be all techy too), etc., etc. I have noticed that Raj (age 11) indeed makes great drawings on some graphics website she frequents, and Alden's grammar has gotten pretty good now that she often chats with friends, including some foreigner ones. (Alden's 9.) And Jigme (age 14)--geez, her computer skills in a lot of applications now surpass my own.

Still, I'd be happier if they spent less time in front of an LCD screen and more time playing physically, like we did when I was a kid. So, when they expressed a desire to have pets, they didn't have to do much persuading before I said yes.

On Alden's birthday last September, she got two turtles. (We bought Raj a turtle too because she was sick and we wanted to make her smile.) On their school's foundation day, Alden and Raj brought home little painted chicks (without my permission though). And just a week ago, Raj bought two bunnies as her early birthday present. (She turns 11 on October 24).

As a result, our garage (where all the animals stay) is now often smelly, with rabbit poop all over the floor. We have to clean up the animals' mess and cages daily, otherwise our house would stink to the high heavens. These are additional chores for Manang and myself.

But who's complaining? Now, when the kids get home from school, they'd inevitably spend their time relaxing at the garage with the animals, feeding them and playing with them. I'm happy that they (not just the kids, but the animals too) all seem to be enjoying themselves without any help from some high-tech gizmo. What's more, the kids are learning what it's like to care for and protect other living things. Some stray cats wander into our house, and we have to be vigilant that they don't hurt the rabbits.

The rabbits are named Raki and Alice, courtesy of Raj. They're super cute and lovable. :-)

Raki looking out longingly into the garden

Alice begging me for food :-)

Raki chilling

The Morning After, or Thank You, Lance Armstrong

As I finished my longest run ever and tapped on the "End workout" button on my iPhone, I heard Lance Armstrong's voice on my earphones saying "Congratulations, that was your longest distance run so far." Or something to that effect. Normally, I would have been thrilled to hear those words, but I was so tired, so worn out, and my cramps were soooo killing me, that I really didn't care much about the voice recording that Nike+ so thoughtfully provides for runners when they obtain a new PR (personal record). I wouldn't have minded if Lance, clad in his trademark yellow and black sports suit, suddenly materialized to pat me on the back, but nah, of course that wasn't happening.

I ran a full 25-kilometer stretch in 3 hours and 3 minutes. My longest run so far. Yoo-hoo!



That was two weeks ago. The week before that, I ran 21 km in 2h:30m. And just last week, I tapered down to 16 km. This Sunday, I'm supposed to do 29 km. Omigosh! The very thought makes my heart beat faster already, but a girl's gotta do what she gotta do.

So far, that's how my (very erratic) marathon training plan has been going. It's far from ideal, and there's barely two months of training left before the big day: December 5, the QC International Marathon, and my maiden full marathon.

I only do the long runs because I'm so busy with housework and stuff, but I hope to increase my number of runs per week, to include shorter distances and, who knows, maybe interval runs if I can squeeze them in.

What I've discovered as my biggest potential problem come marathon day is -- them darn cramps! I've noticed that after an hour of continuous running, I'd start to feel some cramping on my left shin. (My shins have always been my Achilles' heel.) Then by 2 hours, it'd be so painful that I'd have to walk a bit before running again.

But last week, the cramps didn't appear until after about two hours of running. That's progress I'm really happy about. It helped that I've been hydrating up to three days before a scheduled long run. I drink a few liters of water each day (and make frequent visits to the bathroom too). The next diet change I'll do is to drink milk regularly and maybe take calcium supplements. I hope these measures do work to eliminate the cramps altogether.

The morning after a long run, I notice that I don't feel as bad as I used to in the past. The typical morning-after limp is still there, but it's much reduced now. Going up and down the stairs is also more manageable; I remember having to really do it slow before and hold on to the sides of the stairs because my legs were really sore. Now things are so much better and I'm happy with the progress I'm making :-)

I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can really make 29 km this weekend.

Big Plans

Before we know it, the -ber months are here already! Time does fly by sooooo fast. It seems like just yesterday, I was in high school; now I have a teen-age daughter in high school!

Speaking of the -ber months, December is not that far away. I hear that there are displays of Christmas decors in some malls already. But for me, what's really special about December is that I'm fervently hoping to run my first full marathon on the fifth of the month. I should have been in training since August, but I was fasting then, so I'm just starting my *serious* runs this week. (Yes, I quit fasting even before Eid el-Fitr, because hindi ko na kaya! I had a vomiting and trembling fit last week, and felt really weak and bad, so I thought it's time to stop starving myself. God will understand.) So now I have just about 12 weeks to prepare for the full 42-km run. Tsk-tsk. Looks like I'm cramming again, just like in college.

I'm following this training program called the Marathon Coach, made by the Running Method. It's convenient for me because I have it on my iPhone as an app, and my iPhone goes with me whenever and wherever I run. The program's different from other training plans I've looked at. For one thing, its runs are in time measurements (50 minutes, 2 hours, etc.) rather than in kilometer distances. For another, for a twelve-week program, it appears much less rigorous than others.

That observation had me worried yesterday, as I was looking at other training programs. I've seen two that recommend a 21- or 23-km run on the first week of training. This is so because there are only 12 weeks instead of the customary minimum 16 weeks of training, and so it's supposed to be fast-tracked and a little intense. Meanwhile, in the Marathon Coach plan, only 50-minute runs are recommended for the first week. What a big difference.

I gave it some thought, and I decided I'd shoot for a 20-km-ish run this weekend. Thinking about this long run scares me a bit, but it's a run I'm looking forward to nonetheless :-) If I do make it, I'll try to adopt the other, more demanding training programs. But if I can't manage it, I'll stick with the Marathon Coach plan.

I'm glad I'm running again. Yesterday, I had a great night's sleep, the best I've had in weeks. I attribute it to my tiring pace run earlier in the day. It was very pleasantly exhausting, and I slept like a baby because of it.

Some screenshots of the Marathon Coach iPhone app:

Day 4: Hungry and Humble

When someone asks me what my religion is, I pause before giving an answer. If I don't know the person well or I don't want to encourage a long conversation, I simply say "I'm a Muslim." If I'm feeling talkative (which is rare) or the person who is asking really wants to know and isn't just making small talk (which is even rarer), I answer, "I have no formal religion, but I'm a deeply spiritual person." Or I say, "I believe in God but I don't subscribe to any one religion." When feeling flippant, I might even say, "Religions give God a bad name."

Outwardly, my children are Buddhists, and they have the freedom to choose their religion when they grow up. Their father is a Rosicrucian mystic, and his story is even more convoluted than mine. I am, simply, a human being who reveres an unseen, unimaginable and unknowable Force that created the universe and touches our lives in profound, mysterious ways.

For some reason, I was moved to go into fasting this Ramadhan (it started last August 12). I haven't done so for many years, decades even, although I've made many half-hearted attempts to fast in recent years.

On my first day of fasting, I also begun to observe salat, the five-times-a-day prayer of Muslims. I had to reacquaint myself with the Arabic words and prayers, and the different movements, the prostrations and bowing. I also had to reread on how to do the ablution or cleansing that is required before one can pray.

It was a fascinating, and not exactly easy, journey of rediscovery for me. The words I knew in childhood came back easily to me, though I suspect I'm not doing everything exactly right yet. Paradoxically, there is great liberation in bowing low and prostating oneself before God. These acts of abject humility reaffirms certain truths I often take for granted: That God is enough. That there is only one God. That He has no equal. That all our other obsessions and preoccupations are unimportant compared with God. And that everything is nothing; there is only God.

While in prayer, I remember and live those truths. Back in the "real world," I tend to forget them.

Praying is relatively easy, but fasting is another story. As I write this post, my stomach is grumbling and I feel weak, tired and hungry. The Muslim way of fasting is different and more stringent than other types of fast. No food and water (not even a sip) is allowed from about 4:30 am to 6:30 pm. Furthermore, one also has to fast or abstain from "evil" thoughts and deeds. Yesterday, I quelled an urge to snap back at a very rude person. He was a tricycle driver who threw money at me because he had no change for it. It was a real struggle for me to hold my tongue and not fight with him. I firmly reminded myself, "Sabr, sabr." Patience, patience. Sabr is one of the things that fasting is supposed to be all about.

Today is my fourth day of fasting and praying. I'm weak, hungry, and I miss running. I cannot resume my training for obvious reasons. Yet I also feel light, clean, humble, reverent, and very thankful. God has been very kind to me and my family. I feel truly blessed.

Alhamdollillah.

Of Women Who Scowl and Eckhart's Pain-Body

I had to make an ATM withdrawal today, and the bank being just a stone's throw away from my kids' school, I decided I'd walk there straight from school after seeing Alden off. I did my thing at the ATM, and the little receipt from the machine once again reminded me of one of life's greatest mysteries: How does money disappear so fast? It's too early in the day to be wrestling with unsolvable mysteries, so with a little shrug, I started heading home. Then another question popped up: should I take a tricyle or walk? I wanted to walk but I was wearing a mousy, ankle-length black skirt that made me look like a lola from last century. But it's one of my most comfortable clothes so I often have it on. Anyways, I decided to walk home.

Along the way, I met a real lola type who had a scowl on her face. She looked mean and unhappy, and she reminded me of my former boss, who often gave me a hard time. I used to think of this boss as an ogre, a troll, a bulldog, Hitler...you get the idea. I really hated him. Then he had a stroke. It made his face and mouth look funny, like he was perpetually wearing a Joker grin/sneer. (You know Joker? Batman's arch enemy?) After his stroke, my boss began to be more mellow and less threatening. In time, I came to think of him less like a bulldog and more like a deformed old man.

I then began thinking about how other people possibly perceive me. I know I can look cold and unapproachable sometimes. Maybe not just sometimes but most of the time, I guess. Even to my kids, I sometimes look angry when I'm not. (Well, maybe it's because I'm trying so hard to be stern with them so they'll learn to be more afraid, and ergo more respectful, of me.)

The thing is, I know that I now smile much less than I used to. I was called bungisngis way back, maybe a decade ago, and now I probably appear generally stern and unfriendly. I wonder, could I possibly look like that lola I just met? Do I have her scowl and mean expression? God forbid!

My experiences have given me the wisdom to know that in their hearts, people aren't really mean, aloof or cold. It's just that they had a hard life, maybe a painful childhood or traumatic experiences that made them that way. I know that because I see it in my self. I wish I weren't painfully introspective, but I do scrutinize my moods and actions way too much. And one of the things I'm sure of is I'm not distrustful, I'm not unfriendly, I'm not cold... but I do give off those vibes at times. Maybe I have grown to be distrustful of others and protective of myself, maybe these have become my defense mechanisms because I went through betrayal, hurt and some hard times. I don't know.

Now, when I see someone who appears angry, mean or ill-tempered, I try to be kind and not judge. I'm sure that lola I just saw was once a wide-eyed, trusting child. Now she's all grown up and toughened by life's hard knocks. I can sympathize with her. I can even feel somewhat motherly toward her, at some level wanting to soothe the hurt child inside her.

This reminds me of Eckhart Tolle's pain-body which he talks about extensively in his book A New Earth. He says that everyone of us has a pain-body, that part of us that was hurt or betrayed. Some people have it more than others, depending on their life experiences. Some people also wear their pain-body on their sleeves, so to speak, but in most people, it is suppressed. The pain-body makes us distrustful, cold, angry, mean, sometimes cruel, much like those stereotypical villains in fairy tales. (Think evil stepmother, Cruella, Captain Hook, etc.) At most times, our pain-body is asleep or dormant, but when aroused, it can really blow up and make a scene, surprising even us. When a usually quiet or timid person suddenly erupts, or when someone you know suddenly behaves like a stranger you've never met, it may be his pain-body surfacing. When you think of it enough, the idea of having a pain-body is not at all far-fetched or hocus-pocussy. It can make a lot of sense. It does to me.

Eckhart Tolle also talks a lot about how to deal with the pain-body (in others and in oneself), and of course, his main thesis which is staying present, living at the moment, which I find to be a really wise piece of counsel to live by.

Eckhart Tolle, a really wise man. He looks a bit like Yoda, no?

Alden's Video

I tried out Windows' movie maker for the first time and came up with this "practice" video. The subject of this one is, predictably, my kids. This one features Alden. I'll make Raj and Jigme's soon.

Life Pokes

I used to think that life "remembers" you most when you are in your darkest hour. It is paradoxical that when I felt most alone, that too was the time when I felt most convincingly God's presence and grace.

I hesitate to even call it "God's" presence. I don't know what and who God is, and I might be better described as an agnostic rather than a believer. In fact, I have an aversion against "believing" and "beliefs." Lurking within a belief is the possibility that it might not be true. But people believe it anyway. I know rather than believe that God exists, and I don't dare defile that knowing by attributing all sorts of names, myths and concoctions of the human mind to God. I don't know Him, Her or It; what I know is that God is beyond names and labels, beyond human understanding anyway. So it's useless talking about it.

Hmmm...did that just happen? I wasn't even going to talk about God and there I went. Oh well.

So, back to what I was saying, about life remembering you even when you feel most obscure. I've been cooped in the house, watching over the kids, making their...er, helping to make their projects, cleaning, cooking (more like reheating), doing freelance writing on and off (more off than on), and yes, gardening! I cleaned up part of our garden last Saturday, got rid of the many dead plants and moved around some of the living ones. I also took out some seeds (marygold and something else, maybe zinnia?) and put them in some nice, newly cleaned pots. I do hope they sprout one day soon. Now my right palm is really itchy and I suspect I might have gotten some fungi from all that soil handling.

What I'm trying to say in my very roundabout way is that I have been cocooned in my own world, away from people except for my kids. No social life, no talking to other adults, no going out except to buy groceries. And so far, I like it. I enjoy the solitude and the relative quiet. (With three kids, there is always some noise and commotion at home.)

Then my brother emails me to remind me that Ramadhan is just around the corner. I actually needed no reminding, since I've been occupied lately with thoughts of how to observe Ramadhan. I haven't fasted in many years, although I've wanted to. Now I feel it's time for me to do exactly that. I have been feeling the urge to enter into a more spiritual life, to renew my "faith" (for lack of a better word), and to find deeper expression for my gratitude. I have been very lucky, very blessed. I feel compelled to do something to give back, if not by actual deeds of service, then through deeper prayer and devotion.

Now life is poking me, as if to shout, yes, yes, do that! I am alone and cocooned from the rest of the world... but I am never alone. I always feel the Presence, and now it is taking me by the hand, affirming, guiding, loving, and just being there.