What's next?

Well, school's over. I've taken a bit of a break from painting, for a lot of reasons.

First of all, I'm not sure which direction I want to take artistically. During the tail end of the semester, I started a figurative work of Nick and Richie from 7th Heaven. Much to my dismay, I had troubles with it. I'm a little worried that, due to all the abstraction I've been doing, I've forgotten how to "keep it real." A white canvas is indeed an intimidating thing.

Secondly, I'm spending a ton of time going to physical therapy and doing my "homework" in a valiant attempt to rehab my knee before next month's Soldier Field 10 Miler. Which is my favorite race ever.  Had another evaluation last night and Molly is encouraged by my progress. So am I. The hardest thing for a runner is to NOT run-- as much, as far and as fast as possible-- but I'm calling on the teeny, tiny bit of inner patience I possess. I'm currently working on a "return to run" program that features intervals of run-walk. Today at lunchtime I did a 3 minute run-2 minute walk ratio for 2.62 miles and I felt great. I've resolved myself to not getting a PR this year, but I should at least be able to finish. That'll have to be good enough.

And.... it's hockey playoff time! Sadly, two out of three of my teams were cursed with an early exit, but Game 7 is tonight for the Boston Bruins. I have a Ray Bourque t-shirt that is over 20 years old and I'm wearing it proudly. Go Bruins. I can't remember the last time that one of my teams didn't advance to the second round or beyond, and I don't want this year to become a statistic. I pity my poor colleagues at work because I talk about it endlessly, and the overwhelming majority of folks in my department could care less.  Their loss!

Socially, it's been busy as well. Although I've held off on racing, I am an enthusiastic cheerleader. Watched my sister and brother-in-law finish Home Team 10K in the Cell on Sunday and stayed for the after-party, where Michael McDermott performed. Denise's daughter Alyssa WON the race (for her gender) with a smokin' fast time of 38:53-- that's a 6:16 minute mile. We were ecstatic to see her and give her a big hug afterwards. Also went to a benefit for Mike's brother Dan, who is a local policeman and has served in Iraq.  He lost a kidney to cancer a few months ago. I love my brother-in-law's parents and we had a great time for an even better cause. Celebrated John's 51st birthday with a dinner out and cupcakes from Sugar Bliss.

Gotta go. The puck's about to drop. Go Bruins, or I'll have a really long face tomorrow.

way out of my comfort zone

Behold! The FINAL painting of the semester. What a relief to put the final brush strokes on the surface. Relief and a feeling of incredulity.

If I had to apply a theme to the last few months, it has definitely been one of change and pushing boundaries, both in art and in other aspects of my life.

I'm primarily a painter of figurative work. In fact, I signed up for this class with the ambition of using it to spur my motivation to finish up a couple of portraits that have been languishing on my easel for a while. But in the last ten weeks, I've done nothing but abstractions. It's a complete change of pace for me, and very liberating.

In my running life, the early part of 2012 has brought me ups and downs. In January I started a rigorous program of strength training with my sister Teresa. Yes, I was in tears more than once in the gym, as she can attest, because I felt somewhat inadequate and afraid that I would be unable to keep up. But I fought through it and saw two new running PRs by pretty good margins. A new 5K PR in February and a new 8K PR in March. PRs-- beating times I had set years ag0. I shake my head in wonderment and attribute it 100% to the drive that Teresa and the new workout regime has given me.

Bask in your glory too long and it will often come to a screeching halt. I started noticing problems with my knee and had to taper back on the relentless weight work and pushing my limits of speed. It made me more than a bit sad and somewhat self-pitying. Likewise, a few weeks ago at school I had a critique that was-- let's just say-- not too positive. It caused me to seriously question the direction my art has been taking.

It's turmoil that defines us... not comfort. I'm working hard every day to get my knee stonger so that I can race well at Soldier Field in May. The physical therapy is painful. The race I did this weekend was disappointing, time-wise. But I know that, this, too will pass.

And as I finished my painting tonight, I did so with a sense of satisfaction and renewed confidence. I tried something unfamiliar. Something I've never done before. Whether it's the best work I've ever done is irrelevant. Any forward momentum moves us... well... forward.