The Best Part of Wakin' Up

Once again I find myself gripped by the peacefulness of the country; where time seems to creep by at the pace of a leisurely walk. It must be stated, to facilitate my lack of interest in waking early in the morning, that there is something to be said about sitting with a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee on a picturesque morning gleaming with a silent sunrise that can make a guy feel so settled, it’s almost unsettling.

My typical morning begins in my second floor condo in the suburbs of Lexington, just minutes from downtown. I wake to the sound of a high-pitched alarm on my Blackberry that can make dogs cringe with irritation. Many mornings start at 5:15am for a morning run lit by streetlights and lighted retail signs. Then my morning routine of showering, dressing, biblical read, followed up by my 20 minute dawning visit from Matt Lauer and Meredith Vieira. The rush of my morning ritual seems like 5 minutes in total, when in reality its right around an hour.

Why do I never go and sit on my balcony? Why do I never take the time to relax in the morning? It seems like an oxymoron to relax when you awake in the morning. Maybe it’s my uninteresting view of other condo buildings and the neighboring small businesses and shops. Maybe it’s my lack of interest in the morning due to my “it’s a waste of time” mentality.

Whatever the reasoning behind my lack of interest, I believe it would behoove me greatly to take the time spent relaxing in the morning. I will admit it got my day off to a fascinating start. No television, no music, no computer. Just a newspaper, a cup of coffee, a porch, and a breathtaking sunrise to make me recant the Folgers slogan in that relaxation is the “best part of wakin’ up.”

Empowerment for the Powerless

I have recently begun to volunteer for one of our regional Hippotherapy Program. Contrary to headline, this is not rehab for hippos. Hippotherapy is therapeutic riding for mentally and physically disabled individuals.

Besides the obvious, physical benefits of the therapy, I have noticed a major benefit that, I feel, surpasses all other benefits of this type of therapy. A benefit that you can see in every eye of every rider: power and control.

For respect of confidentiality, I will refer to one of the riders I work with as Dan. I started working with Dan a couple of weeks ago. For routine purposes, the program attempts to put the same volunteers with the same riders. Dan and mine’s fist encounter was our introduction to one another. I got a little of his history, where he attended school and he also introduced me to his family who were present for our therapy lesson.

The next week, I saw exactly why people enjoy volunteering their time and energy toward the Hippotherapy program. After the first class with another rider, it was now time for Dan’s class to start. As soon as Dan’s eyes strayed in my direction, I saw a finger pointed in my direction and my name streaming from his mouth.

Immediately my heart began to sink. He actually remembered who I was. I walked over to where Dan was seated on a picnic table. He got up and gave me quite an embraced hug and verified that I was going to be working with him followed up with his extreme excitement in his voice.

Power and control is felt by the riders upon mounting the horse. Many times in society, this population is looked at as powerless. But, as I saw in the eyes of Dan, he has complete control when he is on the horse. He has a sense of power that no human can give him. He builds his confidence every time he tells the horse to walk, trot, or takes the reigns to steer the horse. You can see the self-assurance flowing from the riders, and it’s in that moment, you humble yourself and realize, it’s not about your own selfish agenda to be a “good person,” but it’s about giving that sense of empowerment that, all too often, we take for granted

Diet of Champs

I’ve seen it on CNN and I’ve heard it on the radio. Michael Phelps’ diet consists of 12,000 calories per day. 12,000!!!! Now, I attempt to leave my caloric intake at 2,000 and sometimes with the hustle and bustle of certain days, I may average out at 1,500 if I’m lucky. Today, my totally caloric intake is approximately 1,150.

How does one begin to eat 12,000 calories? How much could one eat before that dreaded, dry heaving begins? How could you withstand that feeling of explosion? I have to assume that a life of eating, sleeping, and swimming can account for the sizeable amount of calories on person can ingest in a single day.

Let me start by informing readers of what exactly Michael Phelps eats on a daily basis:

Breakfast:
- Three fried-egg sandwiches with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions, and mayonnaise
- Omelet containing five eggs
- One bowl of grits
- Three slices of French Toast with powdered sugar
- Three chocolate chip pancakes
- Two cups of coffee

Lunch:
- An entire packet of enriched pasta
- Two large ham and cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise on white bread
- 1,000 calories of energy drinks

Dinner:
- Another packet of enriched pasta
- An entire pizza
- 1,000 calories of energy drinks


I will start by describing, in depth, the calories in which I fulfilled today with my daily intake.

Breakfast:
- One cup of coffee
- One packet of oatmeal

Lunch:
- A flatbread panini prepare by Lean Cuisine
- A handful of low fat Wheat Thins
- A bottle of water

Dinner:
- Half a peanut butter sandwich
- A glass of merlot

I will say, Michael Phelps’ diet seems non-comparative to my personal diet. As far as I am concerned, 12,000 calories is an unreachable endeavor. I have come to the conclusion that there is no mode to which I can even begin to imagine what I would consume on a daily basis to equal 12,000 calories. But it’s assumed that if your daily activity consist of eating, sleeping, and swimming, one can afford to splurge on a, what I am deeming, a “Diet of Champs.”

An Artful Expression

I find it very interesting the ways in which we can express our creative sides; how many avenues can be traveled to articulate just that one, seemingly pointless wave of inspiration to the world around us. I saw a photograph taken by an ostensibly well known artist in his field of skill. It’s that cityscape of Seattle in that photograph that I evidently can not bring myself to critique; so awe-inspiring, I have posted this facet of artistic flair in a location by which I can stare with passion and utter amazement. I can feel that I am there. I can feel what the man behind the camera must have been feeling at that moment and in that setting. This brings me to my epiphany.

I was running in the country. It was dusk, just before the moon was visible. I decided on this run to go without the company of an ipod. I have rarely taken part in the ritual of “just you and the road” being that I reside in the city where traffic is pretty heavy. Typically I have companionship of The Afters, Ferras, John Mayer, Norah Jones, and a compilation of other popular artist. This made for a rather inspiring experience. No melodious symbol of pop culture blaring through the minuscule earphones setting a pace and the mood for my run. I am not accustomed to running in the country at dusk.

I start my run. I’m a little uneasy due to the rarity of being without my cardio cohorts. Then a sense of peace begins to manifest. Suddenly I realize that the music that I am hearing is locusts in the trees, a distant dog bark, and the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement. Stillness is all around almost as a perturbed sense of oneness. It was nice and all the while atypical for my taste.

As I am thinking about how the sky is a picturesque visual addiction to which I can’t take attention away, I am intrigued by a dark speck on the horizon next to a large reflecting pond. I get within clear viewing distance of the mysterious speck that invaded my concentration on the sky. It was a girl; a girl expressing her thoughts in an artistic manner. Aided by a sketch pad and a pencil next to the pond in the midst of overgrown grass and weeds was one of the rarest forms of artistic display I have encountered with my own eyes. It was obvious she wanted to be left alone. I thought about this scene I had encountered the rest of my mile and a half run. What must she have been thinking at that moment and in that setting? Was she seeing what I was seeing? Was she drawing something I was not aware of? Was she alleviating the stressed of her day on a sketch pad?

I’ll never know. I don’t want to know. That’s the beauty of art. One does not have to explain themselves no matter the type of artistic avenue they choose to travel. The important thing to remember is art is art. Writing, drawing, painting, photography, music, dance, it’s all art. And there is no need to question.