I was never the kid who liked camp.
Summer after seventh grade I went away alone for the second time ever (first being a disastrous Girl Scout Camp involving a foiled escape, fourth grade).
Sack races and lake swimming made me nervous, and I really just wanted to be back at the library volunteering.
At 12 my parents thought we could try again, this time at something more my speed -- writer's camp at Duke. I'd do better there, right? Wrong. I cried each night, curled up in the pay phone, begging my parents to come get me. Literally homesick, I ended up ill, with a trip to the ER. They sprung me early.
Fast forward 21 years and I'm sitting in a cabin in North Carolina. And here I am, lacing up my running shoes, nervous about walking down the trail to meet my fellow campers, which is of course silly. Is it because I'm not hiding behind a notebook? Because I'm going to have to move my body, which is so out of practice, curled up behind a desk and a computer? Why am I scared?
****
"Sense how it feels to be drawn by gravity. Trust it."
We're standing in a circle under a pavilion, thunder rumbling in the distance. With this technique you learn to take small steps, engage your core muscles.
The idea is that these muscles support the rest of your body. Most people tend to walk and run as if plodding, forcing our bodies into movement. That's how people get hurt, pounding their bodies into the ground, day after day, week after week. Here we work to change that, to move mindfully on the trails and in our lives.
"When your center is strong it supports the rest of your body. Movement becomes almost effortless."
Baby steps, one, two, three, baby steps.
I'm looking out in the distance, past the blueberry bushes and lilacs. This isn't really summer camp, it's work. Writer's camp dropout turned writer. I got one of the parts down. Are the other kids gonna laugh at me when they see that I can't move as fast or go as far? Will they know what I'm running from?
****
This was a mistake. I'm so out of shape. I should be home.
Maybe I'll get in the rental car and drive back. I feel the tension in my shoulders and neck. Then I walk up the steps and run into these two. Two girls, my age, sitting on the steps of the restaurant and laughing. It looks like they've known each other forever, but it turns out they've just met.
L., a striking Indian woman from North Carolina, and M., a blonde Aussie doctor who, in her first moments of talking with me tells me,
"New Orleans was the closest thing to hell, and I loved it!"
She's touring the American South, and shares how it was her dream to ride up to the gates of Graceland on a Harley wearing her grandma's dress. Grams won an Australian lottery in the 70s -- a fund raiser for the Opera House -- and traveled to America with the winnings to see Elvis in Vegas. She wore that dress.
We eat our veggie pasta and retreat to the hammock, piling up in a huddle of arms and legs, swatting at gnats and checking our emails. (Camp has changed a bit, you know.)
Instantly there is a connection, and we learn that we're all there for something much more than shaving minutes off our times. Lord, I don't even have a time.
The secrets that we share are, well, secrets, told to each other in confidence. Three women in their 30s, each from different cultures, each at an intersection in life.
In the day we run and walk and do yoga, Pilates. Every muscle in my body aches, but in a good way with this new movement. I stand taller, stronger. I want to run, fall into gravity toward something.
****
"If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything," says the instructor.
Mid-week, tired and on a break, we drive into town to the Japanese spa, sit in a hot tub on the side of the mountain. Sipping hot tea and looking over the Blue Ridge Mountains, we talk about our aches and pains, our careers, and the movie stars we have crushes on. After all, we're girls.
Later that night we walk arm in arm to the dinner and dance (I never quite made it to that part in camp). People say we're glowing, and I attribute it to the hot tub, but know better. We drink wine and watch the fireflies glow. None of us grew up with fireflies, three different corners of continents. Now, even as grown women it's a bit new.
My body feels different as I move in this new way, standing straight, leaning forward. On the closing night I sit in the circle and confess that I can't wait to run. Something has changed within me.
Later that night I dance on the porch to Tom Petty, arms open. Summer camp isn't so bad.
When the sun rises, I throw clothes in the suitcase and look for them at breakfast. Wink at my co-conspirators. Today we are three girls, all going their own way.
"Can I run the last mile of my race in your name, Erin?' M. says this as we hug.
Yep, and I'll run the first mile of mine for you. I drive, and I run. But this time toward something different.
