Aggression

It seems to me that life, much like Nature, has seasons. Some are warm and comfy, others harsher and less hospitable. They come and go in an invisible cycle, making them more elusive to a distracted eye.

The theme of the current season in my life, I’ve come to realize, is aggression.

Over the course of the past several months, almost no day goes by without exposing me to some degree of violence, whether verbal, non-verbal or physical. From terrible images of war and despair blurted out by the screens that constantly surround us (or should I say “have us surrounded”?) to instances of concrete aggression on myself or on loved ones, it feels like the world is an angry, hurtful place full of threats and hatred.

Facebook feeds turn into war zones over politics or religion. Irritated drivers honk and scream and perform dangerous maneuvers on overcrowded roads during rush hours. Violent crimes are committed blindly against strangers for no apparent reason. Hate and bigotry are the all-time stars on the news. Dishonest companies and people are on every corner, trying to steal money. Even some friends have burst into hurtful fits of anger for unknown reasons.

In the midst of all this, I find myself disoriented, destabilized, drained and confused.

Of course, the first reflex would be to try to respond to violence by fighting back. I’ve done it myself in the past, and certainly will not judge someone for reacting this way. But there’s a double problem with this.

First, you end up feeding violence. Aggression is an ever-expanding dichotomy of abuser and victim. If you are made a victim and decide to fight back, you automatically become an abuser.

Second, you are only hurting yourself. Look back into your past, at instances where you let yourself be taken over by anger, frustration and aggressivity. How did you feel, inside? How long did you remain in that state of stormy chaos? How many people did you have to hurt? And how many loved ones became part of the collateral damage of this blind rage?

For quite a while, I felt powerless in the face of aggression because I choose non-violence. I felt like I had no response to offer, no protection, no shelter.

But recently, I’ve taken another approach, and a more active one. I double-down on kindness. I respond to aggression by radiating more love, more openness and more positivity. I remind myself to smile in public places, even when there aren’t any obvious friendly faces. I make small gestures of random kindness. I invite another driver to pass in front of me at a crossroad. I hold the door for someone. I share my food.

I decide to break the cycle of violence by not repeating it. I choose to express my feelings of anger, fear, distress and anxiety instead of clamming up and going to dark places in my mind. I try to find beauty. I hold in my arms those I love most. I go out in Nature and breathe. I reciprocate the goodness offered by others.

So to you, my friend, my reader, I open up my arms and offer a warm hug. I give you a compliment on how nice you look or how well you’ve done. I share some delicious snack at the corner of a corridor. I leave a funny drawing on your keyboard. I send a little TXT message with smiley faces and hearts. I pat you on the shoulder. I flash a stealthy wink.

And for a minute, in the middle of the turmoil, I feel warm, safe and happy.

A Letter To Elitists

About 1/100th of my running family

When I began running, some years ago, I was swallowed whole not only by a sport that blends well-being, fitness and adventure perfectly, but also by an amazing community of people who seemed to share values very dear to me; humility, openness, simplicity and a desire to be healthier, saner and closer to nature.

As I got fitter, I set goals for myself. I dreamed that I would maybe run a race some day, and I did. A 5K. It felt amazing. I kept looking around me, and saw people of all sizes, colors and shapes cheer each other on, share the moment and lift everyone's spirit through the sheer love of running. I couldn't believe my eyes. And I wanted more.

So I kept at it. 5K became 10, and 10 something else. And you know what? Each and every time, I had a similar experience; I shared a moment with a horde of enthusiastic, positive people who simply put their busy lives aside for a while, dressed a little funny and lined up in some park or closed-up street to be five years old again.

From streets and parks, I took to the trails and was even further impressed with the people I kept meeting. No matter how much of a newbie I was, everyone welcomed me with open hearts and introduced me to more and more people and created more and more opportunity to inspire me, up to the point that I now am a fairly seasoned ultra runner and I know hundreds of fellow trail enthusiasts the world over. And I've never been prouder to be part of such a great community.

As I'd been taught by others before me, I developed a special attention to other runners around and made sure to be always available to help out, whether by offering a little piece of advice, a word of encouragement or my last s-cap to a struggling brother or sister. The law of trail karma quickly caught up to me and I could tell you of a hundred times where others came through in the nick of time, saving my race or saying just what I needed to hear to keep moving forward.

I could write pages about dozens of pure strangers who became instant family out on the trails, and I'm proud to be considered as such by numerous others I inspired, helped or supported at one point or another. It gives me great pride to call myself a runner and to have the privilege to hang out with such a huge number of fantastic people.

I want to insist here that some of the most amazing people I met through my running are international champions, top-of-the-top elite ultra runners who often went out of their own way to help me out, cheer me on or offer some much-needed advice. Most of them I only discovered later as champions, being told by other runners or seeing their face in a magazine after we met. They were as humble, welcoming and accepting as any other person, and in there lies something tremendously powerful and immensely inspiring. Something that reminds me how important it is to be cool to each other. Something that makes me want to be a better person, every mile.

So when I read bigot posts from supposed “elite” runners who look down on anyone who runs less miles or slower times, I don't only feel anger. I feel sadness.

I am sad because the other runners they encounter won't have the chance I had to be inspired beyond words by athletes who perform amazing feats of fitness and endurance. I am sad because in a world where everyone seems to be only interested in exploiting the next person, running – and trail running in particular – has always felt like a much-needed bastion of Humanity. I am sad because these elitists don't get it, but much sadder because of the harm they cause to the people they dis and ridicule.

When I wrote “Hey, Fat Girl”, it was because I was heart-broken from hearing a beginning runner call themselves inadequate and I wanted to reach out and celebrate them. When the article snowballed and reached hundred of thousands of readers and I started receiving emails and comments every day for years from people who'd been laughed at or dismissed, I realized first-hand the amount of damage and hurt that is done daily to beginners trying very hard to set themselves on a newer, better path. And I won't accept it. And I won't stay silent.

Every time you put someone down because you judge they are not worth being in your community, you are not only being a jerk and an egoist. You are attacking their hopes and dreams of bettering themselves. You are spitting in the face of people who might look up to you in search of inspiration or a simple couple words of encouragement. You are telling them that they are not good enough and that their efforts are useless. You are bullying them away from a potential life-altering choice so immensely positive that it literally transformed the lives of millions of people, probably yours included.

So the next time you feel like someone isn't good enough to post in your online community or have the nerve to toe your starting line, I'm not asking you to welcome them with open arms. I'm not asking you to turn your judgement around and try to find something positive to offer. Hell, I'm not even asking you to change how you think.

I'm simply asking you to keep your elitism for yourself and say nothing. And if you absolutely have to take your hate, disrespect and insecurity on others, create an ultra elite group and please remember to not invite me.

Meanwhile we, the other runners of the community, will take care of the cheering on and the high-fiving, don't worry.