Last night I went to a yoga class because that's what women of leisure do. My friend Bria was teaching. During the guided meditation, she instructed us to think of something hard we had done in the week prior.
Sprawled in some sort of baby pose, I was struck by a wave of guilt at my privilege. I hadn't done anything hard in a week.
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| Backpacking to hot springs? Cold, but not hard. |
For the past few years, hard meant putting out a paper I was (usually) proud of every week, poring over mean Facebook comments despite myself, driving past fast food restaurants that advertised a higher starting wage than I was earning as editor, saying sorry, saying no, or saying yes and committing my time to important things, mundane things, repetitive things, heartwarming things. Hard was having people say to my face that they had stopped reading the paper because of how biased it was. Hard was watching a former coworker constantly try to scoop us in covering the most controversial stories, then giving out my publisher's cell phone number to people so they could complain to him about the work I was doing. Hard was staying up late when Cy was on SAR call-outs, knowing that I would have to write about the grim outcome, but also knowing I couldn't use everything he told me - the information had to come from official sources. Hard was attending as many high school sports games and matches as possible and still hearing from a small but vocal group of parents who complained that we didn't pay any attention to their (deeply mediocre) teams. Hard was never turning it off. I didn't work crazy hours and often bailed to go skiing or mountain biking, but I never stopped thinking about the job, the community, and there was always a chance I would have to get home and cover some horrible breaking news. Hard was also telling people I respected that I was leaving.
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| Visiting family? Awesome, not hard |
But when I was mouth-breathing into my yoga mat last night, all of that hard had gone away. I spent my week skiing a ton, deep cleaning the house (and fretting over how many possessions we have in the face of a move next spring), cooking dinner before sunset, and beginning to chip away at a new (exciting, overwhelming) project. None of it was hard. It all felt good, and satisfying, and incredibly selfish.
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| Skiing amazing early season snow? Definitely not hard |
This year I quit two things that have defined me for a long time. I gave my notice at the paper in late July and finally made it out the first week of November. But before that, in spring, fighting tears, I told the head coach I wouldn't be participating in NICA this year. Cy had been kicked off the team for what I felt was not a great reason, and that decision was the final straw for me, proving that retaining enthusiastic, passionate, and committed coaches wasn't a priority for the program. It broke my heart to quit, and I did burst into tears when my favorite mom called and asked if it was true. I felt wretched, and again, so selfish, but it did mean a yawning chasm of free time had opened up for me, after seven years of five to ten hours a week of unpaid practice from June to October and four to six race weekends around the state every fall.
I loved coaching NICA so much but it was a huge volunteer time commitment and this year I ended up not missing it as much as I expected. Especially because I got to ride with my favorite kiddos in ways that weren't allowed within the program - gravity laps on Teton Pass (introducing girls on XC bikes to the idea that the pass is for everyone), lining up against them in enduro and downhill and cross country races, and going on a couple big training rides with two exceptional athletes that I've coached since they were in sixth grade. I was so grateful that the parents we've developed relationships with over the years didn't hold our exit against us and were still happy to let their kids ride with us.
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| Seeing these girls grow into total crushers? Inspiring, not hard |
So now I'm wallowing around in my lack of employment and involvement in the community, and trying to avoid the question when people ask what I'm doing next. Because at the moment I'm just enjoying myself. Taking it easy, I guess, after a lot of hard.
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| Dealing with a dog that is incredibly needy but also very poorly behaved? Kinda hard |
