Author: Sloan

74, 25, 1

/ Sloan / 2 Comments

10% and 90%? No. 50% and 50%? No. 75% and 25%? That’s probably closer.

 

This is me trying to figure out the mental to physical strength I’m going to need in February. Yep, you guessed it, I signed up for a 50K trail run in Thailand. What the fuck am I thinking? Part of me said after I entered my credit card into the little box. This is going to be awesome! The other part was saying. 5:30am is not a good time to make big decisions, but I threw down the money and now I have to begin training—for realz.

 

74% mental: (I know, you think I’m nuts…bear with me) 50K is what? Like 30-something miles? That’s a lot of time on your feet, a lot of time in your brain, a lot of time to talk yourself out of something. Or in my case I’m pretty good at talking myself into things. Being here in Thailand is tough on my brain, on my emotions and on my regular life routine. Running has been a savior, if I can convince myself that 89 degrees isn’t that hot (mostly because yesterday was 94 degrees) and I can go out and run—I’m golden. Just 7-10 hours of that on race day and done is done!

 

25% physical: So yeah, I do have to train for this thing. My current idea of a training plan is as follows:

 

6xweek: run

2xweek: 2 a day runs

3-4xweek: yoga

1xweek: try to get out for over 2 hours (we’ll see how this goes)

 

Other activities: badminton, push-up, squats, lunges…etc.

 

By February 2nd it’s just going to be another long day in woods…right?

 

Wait wait wait!!! Where’s that extra 1% ? you ask?

 

1%: Support. Cheerleaders. Positive energy. Love. And Gu… don’t forget the Gu.

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Market

Market

 

 

 

 

Buddha

Buddha

You must take off your shoes and step over the door frame

My Man

My Man

Buddha, pray, wai

Buddha, pray, wai

I repeat my mantra every time I wai to a Buddha

I repeat my mantra every time I wai to a Buddha

 

Here are some pictures from my trip to the Temple on Sunday.

 

 

Who is Being Created?

/ Sloan / 2 Comments

I can remember from when I was a kid people watching. At school, or at restaurants, later on in life at the airport I would make up conversations people were having from afar. I’d give them lives, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, and problems that needed solving or birthday parties they were late to. I would create a life for them and in an instant it would be gone when they walked away—they would have no idea that I had sat there watching them and creating an entire new life, maybe a better one, maybe not; I would never know.

 

I’ve never really thought about being on the other end of people watching. Do people watch me while I watch others? Are they creating a story, looking at my outfit trying to decide if I’m on my way to work or off to meet a friend? Are they giving me a lover? Am I cheating on him, is he cheating on me? Or are we madly in love setting off to see the world together? Who are they imagining I am?

 

I’ve been in Thailand for three weeks now and being looked at and noticed on the street is unavoidable. I’m the tall-er, big-ger farang that is walking around town with only two Thai words under her belt. (Taller and bigger according to a typical Thai woman that stands 5’1 and maybe weighs 100 pounds.)

 

Today I was brought to the  “Wat Yai” Temple by my director. All morning I could hear whispers of farang! Farang! behind me as I took off my size 8 flip-flops and placed them and their enormity next to the others, mostly sizes 5 and 6. As I bowed in prayer and got blessed by a Monk I felt eyes follow my each movement. I was sure to not to point the souls of my feet at the Buddha shine or touch the Monk who was walking the border of the prayer room, the last thing I needed to do was make someone’s internal story about me negative and how the American was so disrespectful.

Maybe as someone created a story about me today the noticed the tears welling in my eyes as I bowed, they noticed me asking questions, learning and praying for an open heart and an open mind. Praying to succeed, learn and teach on this journey in Thailand. The story, perhaps, was about a girl who was trying to be like the gold color of the Buddha.

 

The Buddha is gold because in near darkness it can be seen, it needs just a glimmer of light for it to shine and cut the darkness. Maybe that’s the story that was told internally by that little girl watching me from the corner, or the Monk sitting on the pedestal who blessed me with water.

 

Just a little bit of light to shine, that’s all anyone needs.