The Long Road to Starting Up.

Starting over is another one of those “chop wood, carry water” jobs. The good news is you can start over at any age–fall in love again, go back to school, learn a new skill–if you want to badly enough. The bad news, is you have to do the work of starting over to start over.

So I showed up at Zumba class tonight. Now that it’s too hot to walk in the early morning, I have to keep getting my exercise somehow–and I tried Zumba. There were about 50 people in the class, everything from young, lithe girls in neon and black outfits with Zumba boots (a cross between Cuban-heeled boots and sneakers) to lithe girls in leggings and sneakers. I did not blend in. The music was loud with a strong beat, and the regulars fell into the patterns easily.

Zumba is a cross between line dancing, jumping jacks, belly dancing, rhythmic moves, hand motions and a lot of booty-shaking dances. I lived through the hour, just barely. But I reached my goal: I dripped sweat and I made it through the hour. I felt awkward and out of place, but I kept going.

The secret to most successes in life is to keep going. Some women looked at me and then looked away. But most of them were working hard. I can honor that, that frankly, I don’t care what they are thinking. I stayed for the hour and although Zumba may well mean “let’s kill the newbie,” I saw potential. Nope,  I will never be a graceful dancer. But I may become more flexible, lose some weight, and get those troublesome arms toned. And that’s the goal–flexible, toned arms, exercise.

Oh, and I served as a mentor. The younger, slimmer woman behind me said, “If YOU can do it, I can do it.” And she was right. (Even if she did leave 15 minutes early.)

Starting over almost always feels awkward and often makes you feel dumb, different and deluded. If you let that stop you, you will have to start over again, and the next time, it will be harder. Know your goal, and keep moving toward it.

Who knows? By the time it cools down, I may continue to Zumba. That is, if I can manage to walk tomorrow.

–-Quinn McDonald is happy she made it through Zumba tonight. She thinks she’ll make it through a few more times. She’s a creativity coach and has to give good example.

Pushing Ahead

Poplars at dawn, with moon. Ft. Worden, Washington

My time at Journalfest was wonderful, but coming home means returning to a routine. No more hanging out at Undertown, a cafe built in the underground ruins of Port Townsend, WA. No more taking a slow walk along a row of poplars, listening to the ripping sound as the wind plucks the leaves from the branches.

It’s back to a four-mile walk at dawn, the discipline of to-do lists and travel laundry, chores that didn’t get done while I was gone, and answering accumulated emails.

When I started out this morning, my knees protested. They began to convince me that a short walk around the block would be enough. I told them that the airplane ride yesterday had been long, so they might be creaky today. Halfway around the park one of

Floor insert at doorstep of Undertown Coffee and Wine Bar

my knees began to send threatening messages–serious pain every step. I thought of turning back. And then I had another idea. I slowed down. Stopped. Stretched by standing on my toes. And began to walk slowly ahead. The other knee chimed in, encouraging me to turn back, go home. I took another step ahead. Slowly. No longer in aerobic territory. Hardly classifying in the exercise category at all. But it was forward motion. I continued at this snail’s pace around the rest of the park.

Stairs to climb up to street level. Get moving.

At the intersection, I stepped off the curb. No pain. I walked deliberately across the street. Worked just fine. With each block I stepped it up a speed–first purposeful,  then stride, then arm-swinging walking, then aerobic walking. Letting my knees catch up with my determination had done the trick. No complaints from them for the rest of the four-mile walk.

When you face creative work, you may hear the same complaints from your heart–it’s too hard, you need a rest, it’s not great timing. Don’t leave the studio. Slow down, put hand to paper in an exercise, then begin to move slowly ahead. Push ahead to do some thinking about what you are creating, pick up the pace, and keep moving. Pushing ahead clears the road, and the mind. You can push through the frustration and reluctance. You can. If you leave the studio, it will be that much harder to come back to it.

–Quinn McDonald is a writer, artist and creativity coach who works with people facing change or re-inventing themselves.

Flashlight Walk

Full moon was a few nights ago, so the moon comes up, orange as a copper penny, around 7:4 p.m. Spring is here, complete with nature flying her freak flag–with the ripe bitter oranges that look full and juicy but are filled with mouth-puckering, sour juice and pulp. Or with trees that have sprouted out both above and below the graft, two different kinds of the same tree blooming on one stem.

On Spring days there are endless activities to try in Phoenix. Like the frantic activity in Fall on the East Coast, before winter slush and depression set in, our Spring is packed with the activities that in July and August, we will not pursue. It will be too hot to cross a parking lot, much less hike, walk through gardens, or climb the local mountains.

So when I read about the flashlight walk through the San Tan Mountains south of Queen Creek, I had to try it. I thought I might be the only person to show up. After all, hiking in the dark, with a flashlight if the moon isn’t bright enough, didn’t seem like it would have a lot of appeal to TV nation. I was wrong. About 50 people showed up, some with lights clipped to the visors of their caps.

The sun set, leaving a nice turquoise light in the West and a spreading indigo sky in the East. The group struck out, a bit vigorously for my abilities.  We were a mixed group, families, a few dogs, and couples. Many people had walking sicks or trekking poles. The first half mile we hiked in granite ground down to a sand-like consistency. It was like walking on the beach. Then the trail headed up, directly up into the stars. The mountains were silhouetted around us, and one by one the constellations appearing in the sky. Orion, the two dippers, the seven sisters. No Milky Way, though. Phoenix has too much light pollution.

I began to drop back, not being able to keep up the pace. My flashlight came out, because the trail turned into sheets of stone, and it was hard to find footing. You don’t want to stumble off the trail into a cholla cactus. It will break off a piece and go with you, carried along in your jeans or skin on 3-inch spikes.

As people passed me, the trail ahead was dotted with moving lights as people used them to check out the terrain, then turned them off to have the moon light the way. Halfway through, we stopped to let people who were tired or didn’t want to take the steeper part of the trail turn back. I decided to stay, but next time, I’m taking a stick.

The 3-plus mile walk was worthwhile and interesting. I worried too much about my footing on the top half of the walk to call it fun, but it is an experience I’ve never had before, and one worth doing before it gets too hot.

–Quinn McDonald is a certified creativity coach and a beginning hiker. Tomorrow she goes shopping for some decent hiking boots, sneakers aren’t sturdy enough for hiking up mountains. (c) 2008 All rights reserved.