Recently I have become obsessed with the song ‘Carolina in My Mind’ by James Taylor. Spotify tells me it is on heavy rotation. I cannot disagree. Heavy. What a beautiful voice and harmony. I looked into the meaning behind the song and it is about him feeling homesick. Perhaps this is why the heavy. I feel homesick, especially in the northern hemisphere winter.

Trees have incredible roots. Look at this beauty I saw one day whilst jogging along the Cooks River:

This tree chose well.

Where we put down our roots is a big deal – not necessarily at the time we do it – when we are young and carefree and exploring the world – but they are when we get older and have different roles in life and our literal family trees grow and span not only the state, but the world!

Saplings can be nurtured, gently watered, sheltered, and then easily picked up and moved, to carefully chosen places where they will bed their roots. I remember my dad gently tending to rows and rows of various seedlings in the greenhouse. Seedlings are really just like little kids. Resilient, adaptable, courageous. Big established trees with many rings in their trunks often start to lose these traits of strength…as do grown ups. We become more set in our ways, even though we said we never would twenty years ago.

My roots began sprouting far far away from where I let them set. Sometimes I daydream about going back, imagining the crisp mornings, the daisies and the squirrels. Seeing the faces of my family in the flesh. Sharing the same days. But to be honest, pick me up and put me back and I’m just not sure how I would flourish. Maybe I’d grow different coloured flowers, or I would lean the other way towards the sun, or maybe I wouldn’t fit in. I just don’t know. And unfortunately the uncertainty stops me. Like a big tree who runs out of energy to re-establish in a new garden.

What I do I know for certain though, is that all we have is now. And the sun I see here is the sun you see there, wherever you are.

And also, ‘never say never’.

Stripes and trees x

Beautiful crepe myrtle tree in my garden. The flowers match my runners

Yesterday I extended my causal 5k to 5.6k to ensure that I jumped to the incredibly exciting ‘purple’ level in the NRC app (Nike Run Club). I did it. Whoop, yeah!!! But what did I get? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. What was I expecting? Well actually, I was hoping for a spinning purple shield with some balloons or confetti moving around it and a trumpet sound, seriously, that’s the truth. I double checked a few sections searching for my cheering squad. But no. Tumbleweed rolled instead.

I must admit, I was disappointed at the time. These animations do make me smile. Or maybe I should say smirk. But 24hrs later I actually feel pretty silly admitting that. I really do. Why do I need electronic validation? I’m above that surely?

Conditioning is so effective. I was just like one of those dogs that Pavlov tested his theory on. I’ve been conditioned to expect a reward for my efforts, especially from my phone. Gamification of previously perfectly enjoyable experiences has tricked this old dog good and proper.

But defending my achievements, that 2500km is only in the app. What about the days I ran but my battery died, or I ran for the bus, or all those years when I ran pre-NRC and was blissfully naive of the love/hate relationship with self-monitoring? They count. In fact I can still remember the first time I forgot my music and heard my running breath. That was amazing. Try it. Running for me is more than the miles.

In truth I did get something for my efforts. Two things. Firstly, I was informed on the levels page that there was 641.5km to get to the first purple milestone. Oh joy (sarcasm). I’ve just done 2500km and you are telling me I need to do more? Secondly, I had a reality check. I still ran, no matter how far (or fast, and don’t even mention the splits or elevation), and just because I measured it doesn’t make it more real, more worthy, shield deserving. I realised that I need to reframe my thinking of measurements and their impact on my mind. Yes, the gap to purple motivated me to run further, but the achievement was a let down. I need to find my motivation from within, and only measure the mere doing. Just be.

Stripes and trees x

This week I saw a tree that reminded me of one that I first saw 36 years ago with my family. We visited the Major Oak tree in Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire. It was major. It was MASSIVE! Especially for my freshly NHS spectacled 5yr old eyes (of which my daughter today said when she saw a photo of me, “aww, you look cute mumma” – oh how I wish she had been in my class at school). Anyway, I remember being in awe and wonder and even at this young age was truly humbled by this magnificent natural beast, my memory decided to bank that one. A few days later, my parents shared the news of a fire, at the Major Oak. What!?!?! I remember feeling really sad, how could anyone want to hurt a tree, who had done nothing but good for people, especially Robin Hood, as legend would say.

Maybe this is when my love of trees began. The beautiful Major.

Growing up trees have been significant at various times in my life.

I remember meeting a new next-door-neighbour-but-one under the Willow tree at the top of the street. We had recently moved house and I had nits for the ‘umpteenth time’ and was told by my mum to stay under the tree and not go any further for fear of contaminating newly found neighbours, imagine!

School holidays were spent with the neighbourhood kids, climbing and falling out of a tree into the ‘telephone exchange’ – an out of bounds building with a vast unused grassy side bank. Feeling daring, we used to drop down from the tree’s branches and then run, or roll, as fast as we could down the grassy slopes and out through a hole in the fence. Such fun!

During high school, I scratched my initials and those of the young trainee PE teacher inside a love heart on a tree at Newmillerdam, and for years after was worried that my peers from school would see my declaration of love (that obviously was only alive in my teenage head, and growing heart).

And last but not least, the mango tree in the backyard was pretty special. I first saw it when I was living in an apartment and dating my now-husband. It died suddenly a few years ago after many seasons of producing heaps and heaps (and heaps!) of sweet juicy fruit. “The best mango tree in Sydney” one gardener declared. It was extra special to me because I loved the sweet sentiment of the ‘Mango Tree’ song by Angus and Julia Stone. It also told me that dreams can come true:

‘Wish I had a mango tree. In my backyard. With you standing next to me.’

And that’s as slushy as I get, apart from my undying love of stripes and trees. Until next time.

Stripes and trees x