Sat, Apr 25, 2020
Read in 3 minutes
Seattle Hub, Washington, USA Originally from San Jose, California, USA
I have a problem. The word “slow” is not in my vocabulary. I only have one speed, and that’s fast. As a runner, this should be a good thing right? Nope, it sucks.
I just got back from volunteering at Lifelong, an amazing nonprofit that provides food, housing, and medical services to those with chronic illnesses. They have a program called the Chicken Soup Brigade, which delivers food to the chronically ill in the Greater Seattle Area. I ended up working with another woman (Sue) peeling and dicing potatoes for a couple of hours. We chatted for a little bit, but I eventually shut up and focused on increasing my potato throughput.
The potatoes were submerged in icy water. My first task was to cut as many as I could into chunks. I told myself “No breaks! Don’t let the temperature get to you.” So for the next 30 minutes, I repeatedly dunked my hand in the icy cold bucket, grabbed a potato, and sliced it up. By the end, my hand was beet red from the cold. But damn, would you look at all those potato chunks that I amassed? I looked over at Sue, who was taking a break from the water and quietly humming to herself. She looked like she was having a great time.
I left the shift feeling sapped. It felt good to get all that work done for such a good cause, but I didn’t feel the same nourishment that Sue did. I’ve been feeling this a lot lately. I think I need to learn how to dial things down. Reduce the speed, strength, effort, concentration, whatever. My mind is on 100% of the time, and that is fucking exhausting.
I think of my main hobbies: running, birding, and backpacking. All three things sound like they can be enjoyed at a leisurely pace right? Well, I apparently never got that memo. When I run, I run long and hard. Elevation? No problem. Sleet? I’ll be warmer if I run faster. When I bird, I am constantly scanning my surroundings, looking for things out of place. Hell, whenever I go on a road trip, I am constantly scanning the trees and wires to find as many American Kestrels as I can. And when I backpack, I HAVE to do it on my own, carrying all the weight by myself and trekking out 20-30 miles away from the trailhead. Go big or go home.
Why am I the human equivalent of a single-speed bike? Is it possible for me to adjust my exertion and actually “stop to smell the roses” every once in a while? I’ve tried experimenting with this in the past, but I always seem to regress back to my “mean” of 110%.
Can COVID-19 force me to slow down? It’s been a month of shelter-in-place here in Seattle and I still have this urge to go go go in everything that I do. This is supposed to be a time for me to recuperate and heal. But oddly enough, I feel even more sapped than before this pandemic.