A fresh and different coaching experience.

October 21st, 2010 | Uncategorized | Ruth Bresson | 3

In the absence of being able to run as much as I hope to again one day I have taken to cleaning out closets and prepping for Christmas!!  So, I pulled out a huge box of already purchased Christmas surprises to be sure I don’t buy the exact same stuff again and I found a brand new box of crayons and a first coloring book for my little granddaughter, Gracey who turns two in November.  I know it’s completely silly…but that brand new box of crayons brought tears to my eyes.  For years, I made sure that my kids always received new art supplies every Christmas – whether they wanted them or not.  And to this day because I believe my son is truly a gifted artist I want to give him new crayons and drawing pencils and art paper every single Christmas – and he is 32 years old.

I opened that lovely box of crayons – so bright and beautiful – and simply indulged in their vibrant colors.  Every color was one that a two year old would be proud and brave to hold in their chubby little hand.  And it occurred to me how easily, how willingly we ignore the best colors in the box.  Or I do.  I gravitate toward the blacks and the whites – not real colors at all – with an occasional brown thrown in for good measure but I completely miss the shocking pinks and splashy oranges and the soothing blues and greens.

And then, in an ever so sneaky way, I buy into a belief that my life is – oh, I don’t know – kinda grey, kinda cream, kinda dulled.

I want my True Color back.

So, I found that feisty Cindy Lauper song, True Colors, on  the internet and turned up the volume and colored all over notebooks and journals.  I might just paint my walls a fabulous red!

I love Cindy’s words…

“But I see your true colors

Shining through

I see your true colors

And that’s why I love you

So don’t be afraid to let them show

Your true colors,

True colors, are beautiful,

Like a rainbow.”

Amen to that……Color on……

October 11th, 2010 | Uncategorized | Ruth Bresson | No Comments

It’s been over eight weeks now since I have been able to run due to an achy breaky back.  It has been over eight weeks since I have been able to write…a seemingly odd co-existence….running and writing.  But, today is a beautiful fall day – my favorite kind of a day – and though running is still weeks away – walking is a slow possibility.

I had no idea that my writing brain and my running legs had become so inseparable.  Seems those serotonins are a big deal, after all.

It has been humbling at best – devastating at worst to learn and admit that a single practice – something so simple and unimpressive really – has forged the rope of iron that contributes to some sort of internal balance – not to mention necessary weight control. And when that rope becomes a bit frayed, frazzled, or altogether snaps….what happens to balance?  Do I free fall?  Sometimes.  Do I swing dangerously with the lightest of breezes?  Yup….


Ever had your rope become frayed? Ever felt yourself free fall as a result of it snapping altogether?

What did you do?  How did you think about that free fall?

I realized – just for me – that running does so many things that are more important than money in my bank account or clean clothes in my laundry or worry about what anyone else thinks about money in my bank account or clean clothes in my laundry. Running steadies me. Running returns me to me. Running keeps me sure I am breathing.  Running forces me to truth but only as much as I can hold as I run…never too burdernsome…never enough to steal me from the race.  Running is my purest form of worship.  And I miss all of the above.

The truth is my back betrayed my soul…not intentionally but the same result occurred.

So…..my creative juices have leaked out and my legs have turned to jello.

It seems that sitting hour upon hour on a heating pad has fried my brain and created a co-dependent relationship with my back and legs. ..one that needs to be weaned away.

Today we walk. My legs and brain and heart and soul…inner balance gingerly begining to be regained.

Have you misplaced your running legs somewhere?  Want to join me? We will move as slowly as our legs lead us to. But we will move.

Come on….

Grace will line the streets….