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Putting In The Miles

02/07/2019 by John Leave a Comment

Government House, Rotorua. Near the finish line for the Tarawera Ultramarathon

We are in Rotorua this weekend participating in the Tarawera Ultra Marathon. Mary is running a half-marathon, her first organized trail run. I will be attempting the 102 kilometers (roughly 60 miles) distance. This race is on the Ultra Trail World Tour. Some of the best trail runners in the world will be competing this weekend. It is by far the most prestigious event I have taken part in and the atmosphere and professionalism I’ve experienced thus far surpass other races I have been a part of.

Preparing for this event has been a great motivator over the past six months. It has pushed me to explore New Zealand to an extent I probably would not have otherwise. Wellington is known for having harsh weather. Training for Tarawera has given me the extra push to get out the door on days when the wind is howling and the rain is coming in sideways. No matter what happens during the event, it’s the preparation that makes it all worthwhile.

Finishing a big endeavor feels great. The sense of elation at getting through something challenging can overpower your emotions. But you only earn that feeling after putting in the miles. The feelings of accomplishment quickly fade into the hum of everyday life, but nothing can take away the hard work and preparation that went into it. Achieving a goal is a wonderful thing, but remember that the real value is in the things you do along the way to get there.

What Do You Do?

02/02/2019 by John 7 Comments

When people ask me what I do and I tell them I work in a restaurant, the conversation often stops. Why is this? Is it me or is it them? Is it because the way I answer the question indicates to them that I don’t want to talk about it, or do they just not know how to respond? I feel like I’m being judged, but by who? Myself, them, or both? This did not seem to happen when I told people I was a bicycle tour guide or that I worked for Outward Bound.

What do you do? Most of us assume that what the person asking really wants to know is what do we do for money. And isn’t this usually what we mean when we ask others what they do? The question is a culturally programmed response to meeting someone new. It is a quick way for us to categorize each other.

I think the conversation needs to shift. I need to change my answers. And I need to ask better questions.

“What do you do?”
“I like to write, run long distances, travel, cook, spend time outdoors, and learn new things. What do you like to do?”

Wouldn’t this make for the start of a much more interesting conversation?

Searching for Home

01/25/2019 by John 1 Comment

The first year is hard. That’s what other Americans have told to us. They said it took them five years of living in New Zealand before home meant here and not there. We are not even seven months in. Sometimes it feels like the time is flying, at other times crawling. Why are we here? It is breathtakingly beautiful. I like the sociopolitical system better than what currently exists in the United States. People seem happier and friendlier. Are these good enough reasons to call this place home?

Lately, an unconscious silence between Mary and I about discussing going home has lifted. My thoughts are filled with the logistics of going home. I sometimes dream about going home. We said we’d give it a year and it’s barely been six months. We said we’d give it a year, but I don’t think we ever actually agreed on anything. Kind of like we were never explicitly clear about why we came here in the first place. About the best reason we can come up with is that we did it “because we could” and because at some earlier point in life we said we wanted to move to New Zealand. But did “we” say any of this or was it just me? Sometimes it’s hard to untangle the wants and desires of the couple from those of the individual.

Home. I always refer to back there as home, though when I was there, I often felt homeless. Will I ever feel at home anywhere? Sometimes I glimpse it in the quiet spaces when my mind is still. I see it in the sunrise. I feel it when I am in the presence of love and laughter. I know that home is not a place. It is a way of being, one that I have difficulty maintaining during the tumult of everyday life.