The Year of Living

It’s November…

It’s that time of the year when you realize it’s coming to an end soon.

For me, it’s the time my month-long introspection leading up to my birthday begins.

In all seriousness, 2013 has been fucking awesome.  

No. I didn’t strike it rich. Nah, I’m still simply infamous within my own circle of friends, former cohorts and occasional acquaintances.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way… although I wouldn’t take issue with having more money.

What made this year so amazing is that it was, in essence, “the year of living”. Not exactly dangerously (although I did almost jump out of a plane yesterday — had those pesky clouds not spoiled it), but truly living and fully appreciating my life and taking big chances.

This year, I rang in the new year at the Barclays Center watching Coldplay and Jay Z sing “Auld Lang Syne” as confetti rained on my head. I resigned from a job considered great for social-climbing, but draining for my soul (and immunity system). Braving bitter cold, I joined the throngs who stood outside the Capital to watch the presidential inauguration in Washington D.C. Found a job at a company that feeds my creative passion; where my colleagues treat me with the utmost respect, shower me with praise and encouragement, and give me things like insurance, vacation days and “summer Fridays” — the first time I’ve ever had that in my entire work life.

This was just the first three months…

The following months would see me spending quality time with incredible people taking in great art, music, sporting events, movies and important teaching moments where rage and emotion ran deep. The spring and summer months saw me boarding planes to Miami, Savannah, Panama and Toronto (a few times).

Truth be told, that was fucking exhausting. Fun. Exhilarating even… but exhausting.

This year I learned to let go of things and people who weren’t healthy for me. It wasn’t as deliberate as it was natural. At some point, you realize whose around for the party, and who’s with you when there’s no music (or other methods of escape) playing the role of artificial bond. And you just let things be.

This is the year of self restoration, where my body and soul discovered the joys and benefits of yoga, meditation, and Buddhism. Nothing brings me back to a place of calm and resolve like a good “Om” and chanting “Nam Myoho Renge Kyo”. I’ve found it lifts my inhibitions the way alcohol or weed would, except I don’t get a headache, nausea or slight remorse afterwards.

This year has been unprecedented when it comes to physical activity that doesn’t involve sex (well, exclusively anyway). Aside from yoga, I’ve also completed my first 5K race, my first Breast Cancer walk in years, and my first indoor rock climbing experience. Also, a special shout-out to aerial silk class, for simultaneously making me look and feel like a graceful acrobat and temporarily cutting off the circulation in my hands and feet. Pink makes that shit look so easy — and she sings while she does it! I’m pretty sure her stage name also stands for the color of her fingers and toes as she belts out those songs.

Speaking of sex, I gladly took a break from it until I committed to dating someone who connected with me beyond physical chemistry. As I’ve come to value the role communication and friendship plays in building a worthwhile relationship, I’ve been fortunate to have experienced the pleasure of being intimate with someone who makes me laugh, makes me think, and recognizes and encourages me to value all that I have to offer. In turn, I’ve found how quickly and easily things flow when you mutually have that kind of connection as opposed to forcing one based on a desire to not be alone.

The best part of this year by far has been my father. Two years ago, there would have been expletives in correlation with that word. Today, my father provides me with some of the happiest moments in the simplest form. When he answers the phone “Hey baby!” after hearing my voice. When he continuously hugs and kisses me during my visits. When he lets me cut his ridiculously long fingernails. When he remembers a detail without me having to repeat it about six times in one conversation (a rarity). When I hear he doesn’t need as much insulin because his sugar levels are good. When I hear he’s recognized an old classmate before they got a chance to approach him at a 50-plus year reunion. When I hear he’s gone outside for a walk. And finally, when he looks me in the eye after widening his own after a long pause, and randomly reveals that while I didn’t grow up in the way he had hoped, he was proud of the way I had, and of the woman I’d become as a result.

Nothing could really top that…

While the remaining two months of this epic year have plenty of opportunities for equally memorable moments, the past ten have been nothing short of a sensational dream. Of course, there have been bumps along the way, but that’s made it all the more perfectly balanced.

It takes a year like this to restore your faith in the beauty of life when just a few years ago you momentarily considered ending it.

When I think of the lovely beaches and people of Panama… The majesty of the Falls and the lush vineyards of Niagara Lake a drive away from the clean and beautiful city of Toronto… Being so close to Chris Martin you could literally touch him as he and the band head back to the stage during an encore… Cheering, booing and crying with a million strangers on a chilly D.C. morning… Crossing a finish line as a crowd cheers you on… And even getting close enough to jumping out the plane… How could I not value every minute and every breath of air spent this year having these experiences, and not look forward to more to come?

The last year that had this kind of impact on me was 1996. That was the year I made my first trip to London, Paris and Versailles, experienced the Olympics firsthand while working in the Olympic Village during the Atlanta games, and had an internship with a magazine that ended up putting me in two of the editorial stories and spent my days playing dress up in sample closets, taking Polaroids of ugly prom dresses and making showroom appointments for a beloved market editor who now goes by the name of Rachel Zoe.

I doubt my appreciation for years will lapse as drastically going forward.

I drink far too much wine now to let that happen again.

Looking forward to picking up a bottle of a 2013 vintage. Even if the wine itself is crap (seeing as there’s a crop crisis — thanks global warming), when I say “it was a good year”, it’ll be with the utmost sincerity… and maybe a bit of nostalgia.

So… what’s your year been like so far?

Color Me Happy

A year ago, if anyone told me I’d run a 5K race, they’d be met with a strange, piercing look that would likely be accompanied by aggressive eyebrow arching (I can kind of give Steven Colbert a run for his money there).

Actually, If I’d been given a play by play of this year thus far — there would’ve been lots of eyebrow raising. People may have suspected I had a face-lift.

But here it is; one day after completing my very first race… although I didn’t do so much racing, as subject myself to getting pummeled with colored powder to the point of having it literally oozing from my pores and looking like I got “smurfed.” Aside from the slight leg and foot soreness associated with doing a 3-plus mile course (which has since been slightly alleviated by a much-needed pedicure), overall I feel amazing.

The credit goes to one of my incredible girlfriends — one my two great “how did you meet” stories, and herself an avid runner — who put a feeler out to form a team for The Color Run. Thus, the “Supersonics” were born.

Dubbed “the happiest 5K on the planet”, TCR lives up to its promise by providing runners with good music, good vibes and packets of colored powder that offers up an experience akin to putting kindergartners in a room with Kool-Aid packets after giving them an endless supply of sugar. In 80-plus degree heat. Hence, they spray you with colored water from a moving cart while you’re in motion.

Yeah… this was a good idea.

Truthfully, it was a great idea! Not only was it insanely liberating not thinking or stressing about winning anything, minding your time or appearance, it was all in the name of charity. Frankly, that’s worth getting my butt up off the couch any day!

Added bonus: the comradery and encouragement that my four fierce female teammates provided throughout our training leading to the event itself really made the difference in my choice to fully participate in anything that forces me to exert high levels of energy. Knowing someone believes in you, cheers you on and stays with you from start to finish gives you an incredible feeling… like you can do anything. Even when we found ourselves going at different paces, we would wait until the others caught up so we could reach our goal as a team.

Crossing that finish line with those women could not have been a more profound and defining moment for me.

While there have been many people who’ve come and gone throughout my existence who spoke words of encouragement and — according to their own intentions — attempted to “lift me up” by making suggestions regarding my life direction, I see now that I respond more to actions than words. It’s much the same when someone professes love to me.

It’s almost as if a culture of “drive by emotions” have replaced the art of getting your hands dirty — both literally and figuratively. “Liking”, “commenting” or “pinning” things on social networking sites have become our new support groups rather than simple forms of self-expression. (Or, for me, a cost-effective way of letting my friends and relatives who live far away know what I’m up to with a side of capsulated recommendations on good stuff to check out.)

This year has seen me build stronger friendships from existing ones, and making more of an effort to pick up a phone and talk for an hour or two and re-shift or scrap plans entirely when a friend needs an ear or shoulder. I’m still not done. It wasn’t until I had a conversation with a man who said, “you and I would never work because you have too many friends”, that I realized just how incredibly fortunate I am to have so many incredible people in my life who support my choices authentically, serve up tough love when they don’t, and won’t leave me in the proverbial (or colored) dust when they see me lag behind. (Yes, I’m glazing over the comment, because anyone who genuinely feels threatened by a network of friends doesn’t have true ones — and if they can’t grasp the concept of having true friends, then they’ll have equal difficulty being a true friend — missing out on all the benefits that comes with such a connection.)

As we crossed the finish line yesterday, we felt no pain. We celebrated our triumph as a team, took some commemorative pictures, and headed to breakfast with the significant others of two of our teammates (and one adorable new puppy). As we ate, drank, laughed and got to know each other better, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment (interrupted only by Baxter’s puppy cuteness, and my feverish obsession with my ESPN app, so I could follow and share the Wimbledon Men’s Final results with the few who cared).

The fullness I feel in my heart for those women (and men) and that moment completely overwhelms the tightness in my shoulders and my faintly fatigued legs and feet.

I think that’s a feeling worth running across the world for…