Perpetual Beginner

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”                                                                                                                  - Confucius

I am not an expert on anything. I never was and never will be. Every time I get excited to learn something, I immerse myself in it for a few weeks. Then the lizard brain kicks in and I sabotage my own growth. When it is time to raise the bar up a notch, motivation dips. When the process gets harder, the lazy gene kicks in, that too in overdrive. Intentions that were set initially to stick it through the obstacles are all but forgotten. Impatience and discouragement dominates. I give up. Temporarily, sort of.

What was meant to be a short break turns out into a long sabbatical. Then when the guilt gnaws away at my insides and finally engulfs me whole, I hop on the wagon, again. Back to where I started. I have lost the momentum and most of what I have learned. But I am relentless, momentarily. And so the cycle begins. And I stay a perpetual beginner. For life. I think I like staying a beginner, although I wouldn’t want to acknowledge it (which I just did) - perils of pouring down thoughts to words, I guess.

I do love the idea of being an expert, no doubt. But without having to put in the 10,000 hours. Therein lies the rub. Also, there is a price for being labeled an expert - responsibility. Which isn’t quite my cup of tea either. So naturally, the beginner’s mindset is very appealing. At first, I am all excited and enthusiastic about what I am learning. Hopeful about the possibilities and potential, both of which are quite inflated and unrealistic, something that the eager mind fails to recognize. The challenges aren’t immediate. They seem farther down the road and therefore, not very threatening. Being a beginner gets my foot in the door without drawing undue attention. Even though thoughts and actions are half baked, I get away with it. And the best part... I can cry for help.

I think the level of confidence is directly proportional to the level of effort. With my level of effort, confidence eludes me, no surprise there. So I aspire to complacency which is always out of reach. Some of my pursuits include yoga, reading, writing, swimming, cooking, coding, running and meditation. Pursuits for which I find it hard to find my edge and move onto the next level (sounds like words right out of a yoga class). Instead I settle and re-settle, time and again, comfortably in the cozy beginner’s seat. Here is a summary of what my ride looks like on each of these pursuits...

I started learning yoga about 17 years ago. In terms of my asana-bility, I am still oscillating between a beginner and an advanced beginner. I love to practice. I miss it if I don’t get on the mat for days at a stretch. But my ‘all or nothing approach’ in the way I practice, does more harm than I realize. If only the number of hours spent watching yoga videos counts as practice hours, I would have passed the 500-hour training level. Easy. Learning by osmosis isn’t quite working the way I want it to. As far as practicing the rest of Patanjali’s teachings, let’s just put it this way - it is voluntary ignorance.

I started meditating at the same time I started learning yoga. I still don’t go past the 5 to 10 minute mark on most days I meditate, which isn’t very many. But just like how I love the idea of drinking wine but my tolerance of it is so low that I drink it from a shot glass, I love, love the idea of sitting still and doing nothing but paying attention to my breath. To me, that’s the ultimate non-activity for someone who loves to do nothing. I have Jon Kabat-Zinn’s Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life at my bedside table hoping that if it is in my line of vision often, I would somehow find time for meditation. It doesn’t work that way. Once in awhile I do get inspired... when I catch a glimpse of it on my way out during the morning rush. A perfect time to sit still, I suppose. Now if only I could move back the clock.

Reading - my only claim to having a hobby. I have been reading voraciously since I was 12, but my comprehension, memory and vocabulary are all sub-par. I have ploughed through classics and other literary gems that were way beyond my brain’s processing power. So I have a long ‘Must-Re Read’ list along with my ‘Must-Read’ list. There is more to reading than just the literal understanding of words. It requires the ability to comprehend, analyze, assimilate and articulate the effect of the book on you. Nil, nil, nil and nil.

If someone asks me now what I want to be when I grow up, I would say I want to be a writer. I dream of being a writer. I know the research would kill me, but I dream all the same. Of being able to have intelligent thoughts, brilliant imagination and a magical way with words - a la Dickens, Tolstoy, Thoreau, Buck, Coelho, Michener, Lamott and all those wonderful authors whose names escapes me this minute or whose works I don’t know of, yet. I started writing when I was in college. Don’t have much to show for. This blog is a very recent attempt. Not exactly one for the portfolio - more as a grist-mill for my jumbled thoughts.

I have been learning to swim for the past couple of years, on and off. Yes, on and off is the recurrent theme here. I still panic when my feet barely touches the pool floor and my teacher isn’t beside me for moral support or when the lifeguard isn’t watching me like a hawk. Relaxing and trusting the body’s buoyancy is not an option. There is no place in my head for physics and logic when it is all muddled with fear. Again, no amount of watching YouTube videos on swimming techniques will equal actually practicing the breaststroke, in water.

I learnt to cook 15 years ago. I cook for my family. That is not to say that I cook well. Except for some occasional bursts of inspiration that give surprisingly delicious results, I stick to the basic tried and true (by me) recipes drawing general disapproval from my kids. My goal is to provide healthy, nourishing food. Taste is only a matter of... well, taste. I browse the blog world for inspiration - as I do for most things. But if the count of ingredients exceeds 5, I find it very off-putting. I don’t think those recipes are intended for beginners like me.

I acquired a degree in computers. Unfortunately the degree didn’t translate to valuable knowledge. It was more of a ‘how to survive mind numbing environments’ which after that, wasn’t really necessary or applicable. Currently, I have a job coding. The degree wasn’t worthless after all. I survive. Nothing to write home about.

I took up running a couple of years ago. That’s a long time to allow oneself to move past the 5k level. But no, I have been slipping and sliding all over the place. I did change my intentions this past year. Why exactly do I run? Is it to model after Caballo Blanco or is it just so I get moving, fast. Since I have answered my question as to why I run, I have scaled back my efforts (which I never hesitate to do) in the name of sustainability. Yes, that’s it, slow and steady. I have got the ‘slow’ part down pat. It’s in my nature. The ‘steady’ part isn’t as easy - it is not in my nature.

The beginner's world is a very comfortable space to dawdle in - where expectations are low, ignorance is tolerated, mistakes are easily forgiven, excuses for incompetence are readily available, attention to detail is not required and where moderate effort is applauded and even recommended. I like that place. I don’t think I can deny it any longer - I belong to the elementary studentdom in life. That too a backbencher. Oh well. It is what it is. I have to take comfort in the fact that I am trying - on and off.

Winging it

Don’t fight the trail. Take what it gives you … Think easy, light, smooth and fast. You start with easy because if that’s all you get, that’s not so bad............
- Caballo Blanco in Christopher McDougall’s Born To Run



I have been fascinated by runners for quite some time now. I have always envied the self-discipline of the people who run to keep fit. How do they endure such strenuous physical effort inspite of all the injuries that seem to come with the territory? What makes them motivated to keep at it? I imagined that there must be something about the act of running itself that is immensely enjoyable that makes them come back for more. It piqued my interest even more when my husband took up running a few years ago. When he was training for a marathon, I noticed that he didn’t follow any strict schedules and neither did he like running on the treadmill. He trained outdoors in the wee hours of the morning, even through subzero temperatures. That was the only time he liked to run - early in the morning. I know he has loads of self-discipline but still, I was intrigued. So I asked him. What energizes him to get out of a warm cosy bed when it is still dark outside? What exactly are his thoughts when he wakes up that early to run? He said, “Nothing. I just get up and get out the door to run.” Hmm..yes, right, but I was on a quest for a more elaborate answer.

So I poked around online for some running advice and found out that the authors of most of the blogs I followed were avid runners. And then I came across a review of the book Born to Run. I read the book hoping that it would answer my questions and with a fainter hope that it would inspire me to take up running. It did both - answer and inspire. The philosophy struck a chord and the reasoning as to why we run seemed logical. It also introduced me to minimalist shoes - one of the keys to running strong and injury-free. It all seemed simple and doable. When the book described ultramarathon races and extreme runners, I couldn’t relate to them, but they were nevertheless inspiring. It supported my belief that physical strength and endurance comes from one’s mental makeup and attitude.

I started slowly. I was never able to run for more than a minute even on treadmills, but as I progressed, I found out that I too hated running on treadmills. I felt constricted and that affected my tread and pace. And worst of all, it was boring and no amount of my favorite music or audiobooks would motivate me to continue. But my husband kept nudging me, so I started over. I constantly reminded myself of everything I read in Born to Run. I started running outdoors. I changed my shoes - my new shoes were not exactly huaraches, but they were not moon-shoes either. I stopped carrying my music with me during the run. My intention was for it to be a mindful practice. As I am with all things that require mindfulness, I just let my mind wander and so did not bother distracting myself with music. I also got over my self-consciousness about puffing and panting in the neighbourhood for everyone to see - yes, as you may have guessed, I wasn’t running during unearthly hours ( I was not that inspired). It also helped when I read somewhere that it might actually inspire someone to see me run. As I am the one always seeking inspiration and never the one to inspire, I thought it a novel idea.

To bolster my efforts further, at the beginning of this summer, I decided to sign up for a 5K race. I reasoned that it was for a good cause and that a commitment like that might actually keep me motivated. I started out by running in the mornings during my 3-week vacation. Once my vacation was over, I ran out of steam, came up with excuses and my running came to a screeching halt. Almost two months passed and I realized that the date for the run was only a few weeks away. I resumed my running. And then unfortunately I sprained my foot (it wasn’t from running). By the time my foot felt better, I was in a time crunch. Only two weeks to go before the race and I still wasn’t prepared.

A friend who had signed up to run along with me had to drop out due to family reasons. I was tempted to throw in the towel but my determination to set a good example for my kids egged me on. I ran about three times every week. I timed myself and found out that it took me about 45 minutes to run the 5K. Not good. One can walk that distance in 45 minutes, myself included. So I ran a bit harder with a goal of slicing off one single minute every time I ran. The best I could do was 37 minutes. That was two days before the race. No more running until race day.

I fervently hoped that during the race, some of the energy of the runners would rub off on me and I would run faster and make it under 40 minutes. But then the night before the race, which was last friday, I decided that I will just aim to finish without keeling over at the finish line. On Saturday morning, I stretched at home before the run, instead of after, like I usually do. I had my all-time favorite breakfast of toasted sprouted-grain bread with heaps of almond butter, strawberry jam and flax meal and downed some black coffee. The weather was chilly that morning but the sun came up shining nice and bright. My family was with me to cheer me up for my first run ever.

By the time we got there, the place was swarming with people - over 10,000 had signed up. It was inspiring to see so many runners. When I walked up to the start line, I was glad to see my family waving to me from the sidelines. Some of my new favorite songs were pounding through the speakers and a short jazzercise session commenced to the music to warm up before our run. I just shuffled my feet a bit, as I was worried that I would tire myself out even before the run starts. I saw TV cameras and TV station personalities do their bit. The anticipation was building and I couldn’t wait for it to start. Then the countdown began and off we went. The first few minutes were the hardest because I was moving with the crowd and couldn’t find my pace. I made a conscious effort to slow down and didn’t allow myself to be fazed by the people zooming past me.

The path looped through the downtown area and I was surprised to find myself looking around at all the landmarks. Since I had a watch that would beep every mile, I waited to hear the first beep. I was running at my usual pace. When it was about time to hear the beep and it didn’t happen, I wondered if a mile could really feel this long. But I did not dare look at my watch. I very much doubted that the sound of the beep would be drowned out by all the cheering and the music from school bands playing along the way. That’s when I looked up and saw the 2 mile marker and the timer on it showing 20:35! I couldn’t believe it!!! I ran two miles already, that too in my best time ever. I saw my family cheering me on and was encouraged to keep at this pace for the last mile and finish strong.

The sun was beating down by then and I was getting thirsty. I took a sip of water from volunteers handing out water cups (volunteers rock!). I was getting a bit tired but I kept my focus on my next step and the next and the next. Finally, after a turn in the road, there it was! About a 100 yards down the road was the finish line! It was the most welcoming sight ever. When I crossed the clock at the finish line and it read 33:12, I couldn’t stop smiling. I did it! That too without ever slowing down to a walk, not even once. I was thrilled to see my family there shouting their congratulations. I was elated and energetic, as I usually am, after a run. Despite winging it, I did better than I expected. With a sense of gratitude to friends, family, books and runners for the inspiration, I basked in a feeling of accomplishment I hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Morning view

Waking up early is never hard when I am on vacation. So I am up at 5 and wait for the dawn to break so there will be enough daylight for the morning run. The path is a paved road about 6 feet wide and narrows down about halfway through and stretches for over 4 kms. It winds between acres and acres of farmland and ends at the base of a mountain. The terrain is uneven and the gradients feel higher than what I am used to. Or maybe it is the humidity that makes it seem harder or maybe it is all that food I have been gorging on for the past few days :-)

Before leaving for my vacation, this is the exact visual I had in mind (helped by my past visits) when I decided to sign up for the first 5k of my life. A perfect setting for a beginner runner - on vacation and with no stress of a work day. No morning rush, someone else taking care of the cooking and the cleaning and the best part, training to run right in the middle of nature. Perfect! Can’t get any better! At the beginning, I run in fits and starts but get better surprisingly quickly. The cool morning air helps keep my exhaustion level in check and I can run longer without stopping for a break. Every 50 yards or so, I try to spot something that stands out and set that as a marker, mentally, so I can run just a bit longer to reach that mark before I take a breather. Anything would suffice for a marker - a farmhouse, a lamp post, a bunch of potholes, a bend, a farm gate, anything. Anything to keep my gaze ahead and to keep running. I don’t listen to music during my run, not out of choice entirely. So I observe the surroundings and take in the sights, sounds and the smells.

All around me and in different stages of growth are the sugarcane fields, mangroves, coconut groves, vegetable crops, banana groves and corn fields. And something new I noticed this time, a brick kiln. There is a bustle of activity in some of the farms - a crop harvest, irrigation or preparation for the next round of cultivation. But most of the farms are quiet this time of day, when the vegetation is left alone, to do its part.

I pass a few people who are actually heading back from their morning walk just as I am starting out. I also pass people who are on their way to work (in the farms). But walking to work seems to be a rarity nowadays. People prefer to commute faster and so use mass transportation. They go packed in autorickshaws, motorbikes, tractors and vans with music blaring. Maybe all that noise helps them wake up. Some still go the old-fashioned way and are riding on bullock carts and bicycles. For the first kilometre or so, I have to move aside and give way for the vehicles on the road. Thankfully as I go further along, I hardly come across any. Some passers by cast a curious glance, some stare, some stop and say hello and inquire as to who I am. Once, I even got a suggestion from a stranger on how to walk effectively without resorting to running and getting all out of breath. I nod and agree with a polite smile. I try to follow the advice about the walking, but I certainly didn’t stop running :-)

I notice other sentient beings around - turkeys, chickens, goats, dogs and cows. Every time I pass a farmhouse with the turkeys wandering about, they seem agitated and aggressive. I see them rush and peck at the chickens with their feathers all spread out. They seem like such bullies and they scare me so. A couple of times, I stop and move around them making a wide arch just to increase the distance between myself and them and to avoid eye-contact :-) I wonder who is more scared - them or me. And then there are the dogs, plenty of them. The minute I see one, I freeze. They bark at me and in the quiet of the morning, their barks make me feel like an intruder. After the first few days though, I get bold enough to shoo them off. They halt, look at me, then just turn around and get back to the farm. Or they would just get off the path and into the farm even as they see me approaching. Maybe they are getting used to seeing me or maybe I don’t seem all that menacing anymore.

Further down the path, I take in the scenery without being distracted by the people, the animals or the traffic. The fields are framed all around by mountains. When the sunshine hits the ranges, the mountains have a beautiful orange-brown glow to them. On most days though, it is cloudy and the mountains have a grayish-blue hue with patches of green all over and these turn into tall trees as I get closer.

I am also acutely aware of the smells around me. A few of them are strong and offensive, like the vehicle exhaust. But some are earthy and fragrant even, like the smell of sugarcane, wet soil, sugarcane juice, smoke from burnt sugarcane stalks, almost ripe bananas and mangoes. Although, I have to tell you, I still haven’t made up my mind about one of them - I can smell it about 100 yards ahead. It is a big mound of organic fertilizer (a nice way of saying manure), by the edge of a banana plantation. I am glad that it is not a big mound of bags of chemical fertilizer, but I still try to hold my breath until I am way past it.

I am constantly glancing down the road so as to avoid taking a tumble over the obstacles strewn all over the path - dead coconut branches, coconut shells, sugarcane husks, potholes and puddles of water. And of course, I can't help scanning the ground for snakes and other unseen-but-never-the-less-existing crawlies. My suspicion gets a firm hold when I hear the sound of something scurrying between the tall sugarcane stalks. Now my ears are all perked up.

It gets much quieter except for the sound of birds. I don’t see them as much as I hear them - crows, ravens, mynahs, cuckoos, peacocks and other colorful birds that I don't know the names of. Once a while, I hear cowbells, a distant motor pumping water from the farm well, dogs barking, insects chirping, loud chatter of people working in fields afar and water gushing from irrigation pipes (another of those things that are a rare sight, signifying changing times, but this time for the better. It’s giving way to drip-irrigation - a popular and effective system for water conservation). But for these sounds, it is just the scrunch-scrunch of my shoes on the gravel and the sound of my breath. I wish I could capture the stillness, the wonderful sounds of nature and a sense of quietude that arises from such an idyllic setting. It is so easy to forget that I am just a few miles from the madness of traffic and the hustle of a busy town.

Just past the last coconut grove is a jackfruit tree. I see some ponies tethered to it, grazing. It is the end of the trail and there is no other option but to either climb up the mountain or to turn around. For now, I turn around. It feels good to have reached the end of the trail and the feeling of accomplishment spurs me on to run longer on my way back.