What a cult and a cliff’s edge taught me about presence

Immediately after my dad died I joined a cult. The cult of Orange Theory. It’s a familiar pattern. Life lobs some bomb my way, it explodes, and I claw my way back up from the bottom of a crater. Exercise is a critical component in healing. Parent loss is no small event. That’s why a neighbor and I got up at 4:30 AM, ran to the gym, submitted ourselves to a grueling workout in masks, ran home, cared for our kids, and went about our work and lives. Nothing says workout fuel like pandemic stress and grief. Better than creatine.

Then while running on a treadmill one excessively early morning, my knee gave out. The physical therapist told me she sees a lot of Orange Theory devotees. So, it was on to Pilates. I saw a knee guy and did boring physical therapy. Then came boxing. I even had a brief rendezvous with Muay Thai. There are shinguards and shiny shorts. But starting my own business from scratch led to a cold hard culling of every unnecessary expense, including exercise classes. Running was free. My knee felt better and I hit the road.

The problem? It felt like hell. I have never run more slowly than when I picked it back up this fall. I could not run one mile. Additionally, I became utterly bored on sidewalks and roads. What happened to the zen-like presence running once bestowed upon my mind? I started hiking with my husband. Boulders to scramble over, fallen trees to duck under and streams to forge felt interesting. I picked up the pace. The trail forced my mind into a state of presence unlike anything I’d experienced. While on a trail, if you don’t stay focused on the path right in front of you, you will fall and it will hurt.? I learned the hard way one afternoon while gazing into the beautiful woods. I bit it and rolled, scuffing up my arm and?painting my left side with dirt and bruises, yet bouncing upright like some weird human ball.

I’ve been plodding along since, working on weight training to support my bum knee and overall health. Finally getting bloodwork and addressing my nutrient deficiencies. The paths I take are steep. I run when I can, and walk if I need to.?

I dropped the cult but maybe I’m still in one. The cult of never giving up.?

Trail running is noticing – the feeling of the path underfoot, obstacles – all required to stay upright and keep moving forward. I work to contain my thoughts to keep me from blanking on what I’m doing and tripping. The skill translates to life, to work, and to the moment we all find ourselves in now.

When I got an app alert after a longer run this weekend, I was shocked. On a grueling half-mile segment, I’d cut my time in half since October.?

I had a mentor who passed away this year. His life philosophy? “No future, no past, only now.”?

I thought about this as I contemplated the imperceptible improvements I made on the trails. There, focused only on the task, at hand I became stronger.?

What if in our work days and in our lives, on every task we undertake, and in every interaction, we could maintain the same state of presence?

Presence is a muscle you can train. It keeps our minds out of the past and out of the future for all but the most practical reasons. I’m nobody’s spiritual advisor, but, read Eckhart Tolle’s book The Power of Now, last week and found it helpful.?

Even so, I made a dumb mistake jogging on icy packed snow. Bad move. My feet shot out from under me, my stomach dropped. I’d nearly tumbled off a steep embankment. It was not worth the risk to go for a run in this area – mistake noted, crisis averted. I was OK.

A lot of people at this moment are not OK. I have no advice or reassurances for my friends who are suffering, but when I listen to them, I am present. What could be more important? When we turn into observers of our own thoughts and emotions, we are better positioned to help and comfort others. That includes friends, but it also includes clients who must continue to make decisions based on strategy and logic, not anxiety and fear. The present moment is all we have. No future, no past, only now.