partner in pain

It's funny how you find inspiration in places you'd never expect. Last night I went to the 7th Heaven show at the Lodge in Lisle to cut loose, dance (best I could in a cast) and enjoy the sights and sounds of my favorite local band. I wanted to forget about my stupid broken foot and all of the disappoinment I've been feeling lately about not running. I was looking for escapism, nothing more.

[Some background - I've been to more 7th Heaven shows than I can count. The band, in addition to being very talented (and super hot!) are unpretentious, laid-back guys who get to know their followers and allow us to get to know them. I've had the pleasure of meeting and talking extensively to each one of them.

Mark Kennetz is the bass player of the band. I had my picture taken with him on New Year's Eve 2010 (above).

In addition to being an amazing musician, Mark is an accomplished athlete-- rollerblader, roller hockey player, runner. He dazzles the fans with his Gumby-like contortionist moves on the stage. The picture above doesn't even come close to showing his extremes.]

I'm Facebook friends with all of the band members, so I knew that Mark had surgery on his knee this past Tuesday. But in the midst of feeling sorry for myself, I had forgotten. Then I saw him limp onto stage in a cast (the granddaddy version of my own-- see above) and stand next to a stool to play and sing. Only 4 days post-op. Here's a guy who-- like me-- has been restricted by injury from fully experiencing the physicality that he loves. I admit that my vision is usually zeroed in on Nick, but last night my attention was focused on Mark. I watched him perform despite all of the discomfort and disappoinment he must have been feeling. And he did it with a smile and a sense of palpable joy. Everyone's injury is unique and personal and you shouldn't compare, but seeing his energy made me feel ashamed of my own pessimism-- hell, I haven't even had surgery and my cast is much less unwieldy than his. His example moved me and gave me a new burst of optimism and hope. If he can embrace his injury with a spirit of acceptance, there's no reason that I can't do the same.

I felt so much appreciation for him inadvertently communicating this message of strength to me that I sent him a message after the show (I wanted to talk with him in person but it was very crowded there). I told him how his courage gave me courage and I thanked him for inspiring me. His message back is as follows:

Awwwww thx sweetie:) thats how i roll, it was a bit weird from a stool but im very motivated to get better and be out of gimp status asap :) sees ya soon :) good luck with ur foot :) as Yoda would say "may the force be with you!" ;)

I needed that reminder at that moment that motivation is key. May the force be with you, too, Mark. Rock on!!!

what sustains me

Timing is everything. There's never a good time for a runner to sustain an injury, but some times are worse than others. Now is one of the worst times. I had just been getting back into the groove of training in eager anticipation of some marquee races coming up over the next few months. But for the past several weeks, I've been having intermittent pain along my left ankle/foot area. Finally, it got the the point where I could no longerignore it. An xray at John's office revealed a bone spur. In order to get a closer look, he ordered an MRI. I almost cancelled the appointment because just a few days before the scheduled test I ran a fast three miles without incident.

The MRI was Thursday night and by Friday I could hardly walk because the pain was so intense. The original problem was flaring up and now I was also experiencing a cramping pain along the outer edge of my foot. After work, we drove straight to John's office for cortisone injections and a removable walking cast.

I was inconsolable. I spent the entire day in bed on Saturday, exhausted and hurting-- both physically and emotionally. Forget about running. I could hardly move my foot without the support of the ungainly cast.

My gloom persisted this morning. To get my mind off things, John forced me out of the house for breakfast and a few errands. Came home and turned to my iPod for comfort... listened to Godhead and Avenged Sevenfold-- loud, angry music to drown out the feelings of sadness and disappointment. It's not fair. It sucks. I'm extremely uncomfortable.

Fuck it. I can only take so much drama from myself before I start to get annoyed with the person in the mirror. How dare I bitch and moan when the tv is filled with images from Japan? My stupid foot problem? Trivial. Then I started to think about the bright shining examples of courage that are right in front of me every day. Sara-- who sustained a near disastrous fall that left her with a severe head injury and broken back. She came back from those serious injuries to run the Boston Marathon (with a broken toe) a year or so afterwards. Bonnie-- who survived breast cancer and became a triathlete. Sue-- who had a brain anuryism and also recovered with grace and dignity to once again start biking, swimming and running. Once again-- my stupid foot problems, compared to what they overcame? Trivial. So trivial.

Right now I'll throw out the soggy kleenexes, swallow a couple of Advil and face a brand new week tomorrow. I know I'll have bouts of sadness and uncertainty during the healing process. But I'll have just as many moments of strength and recovery. Sure, I may miss a few races, but don't count me out yet.

renewal

I love to paint but I'm lazy about it. Sometimes I paint only in my head. That's why it's good every once in a while to go back to the source and to use it as an impetus to get mind images onto the canvas. The source for me is the people who have mentored me throughout the years.

Last night John and I went to Linda Warren Gallery in the West Loop to see the opening reception for two shows-- Loretta Bourque: Charades and Rob Bondgren: All That Glitters. I know both artists personally and they have been very instrumental in my development as a painter. In fact, Loretta was my advisor when I was in the Certificate in Painting Program at SAIC and Rob was the one who introduced us. To quote from the show's website, "these artists... look to the human body to explore ideas surrounding identity and how we as a society and culture give expression to passion, obsession and desire." Check it out for yourself at www.lindawarrengallery.com.

It was a miserable rainy night but the show was packed. Loretta's from New Orleans and, with the upcoming holiday, there was a Mardi Gras theme. There were beads galore, wine and punch and gumbo. The infectiousness of cajun culture prevailed and the atmosphere was celebratory and alive.

I admire Rob and Loretta so much. Their use of the human form, technical perfection, mastery of color and flamboyance resonate with me. I took it all in with much enthusiasm. In front of one of Loretta's paintings, John said to me, "it's easy to tell how much she's influenced you."

So I came home from the show with a symphony of images and ideas in my head. The spark had been lit, as I had hoped it would be. I woke up this morning with even more concepts percolating within; ideas for two distinct series are developing and I'm eager to do some preliminary sketches. I am ready to take it to fruition. I've gathered some images and will once again drag out gesso, canvas, paper, brushes, paint. The show was exactly what I needed.