Outside My Comfort Zone

Stepping outside of my comfort zone or
How to become one Tough Mudder.

Last weekend my son and nephews entered in the Tough Mudder race in Southern Calif. For those of you who do not know what a Tough Mudder race is; allow me to explain.

It is an obstacle course – not unlike those Navy Seals use for training. You jump into vats of ice water, then hoist yourself over walls, army crawl through mud, while being zapped by electrified wires (NOT KIDDING). Some people actually run it as a race, some walk it. They are held throughout the country (Google it), but this one was at a snow resort, so I’m guessing fewer people were actually racing up Black Diamond mountains. The entire race took my son with his team of six, approximately five hours to complete.

Through poor planning on the part of the organizers, they ran out of bananas, parking meant taking a shuttle to the ski resort and then after the long tedious race, when all you want to do is lie down and sleep, they had a 2½ hour wait to get onto a shuttle to return to their car. Since the sun was setting and they were wet and mud-covered, they were handed space blankets to keep warm.

It sounds to me that this is not really a race as much as an endurance test. No one in their party attempted to be the first to cross the finish line, They just wanted to be able to have the opportunity to say they survived the Tough Mudder from start to finish.

Now, I am proud they did it and happier still that no one was injured. But, I pondered why anyone would push themselves to the limit.

Why must people climb the tallest mountains wearing oxygen masks? Why must someone swim across vast expanses of water (even shark-infested), if they haven’t fallen overboard? Why do people push their bodies to extremes?

Trust me: I don’t get it. There was a period of two years when I was working out with a personal trainer. I felt it was my duty to keep my multiple sclerosis in check, by being at my fittest. I worked with an excellent trainer who was well aware of my strengths and weaknesses. I did get stronger and I did lose weight. But, after my workout I went home and collapsed. Then I was in pain for the next two days. "But it’s a good pain" – that’s my husband talking. I gave him looks of daggers, because to me PAIN IS PAIN. Then I would return to the gym and begin the same routine all over again. Workout, collapse, limp around in pain for two days.

Well, I finally got it! If my MS was going to create pain anyway, I didn’t need to cultivate it in a gym. So, I stopped going. Lo and behold, I have been pain-free since. Not of course, free of my MS pain, which I will always have. But free of that good kind of pain that kept me grimacing for days on end.

I strongly advise most of you NOT to listen and follow my newly-acquired way of thinking. Exercise is good for people with MS. Just not this person. And that becomes my choice. I choose not to push myself to my limits. I prefer to stay within my comfort zone.

Now I may not be one Tough Mudder (as it were), but I am pushing myself outside my comfort zone in a different way. Not with my body - oh no, I’ve learned my lesson - but with my mind. My creative mind.

With my first novel, “Once in Every Generation” I was well within my comfort zone. Even though it was fiction, it was semi-autobiographical. I knew what it was like to step into the spotlight and I knew what it was like to get diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I also wrote within the genre of which I read. I like books about interpersonal relationships.

Here’s where I am leaping (giant leaps) outside my zone of comfort: the novel I am working on now with great intensity and excitement is a combination of contemporary and historical fiction. Though based on the life of a real person, it combines real life characters with fictionalized events. The research has been extremely inspiring for me.

You will read about a true person who survived the Holocaust, only to have to relive it in her elder years. There is mystery, drama, humor, and even a chase scene throughout the backstreets of London.

Totally outside my comfort zone! And as I type I can feel the adrenaline pumping. I look forward to sitting down at the keyboard and writing. This has become my Everest, my pushing the limits, my Tough Mudder race (without the mud). And I can finally understand why people push themselves outside of their comfort zones. I finally get it! Yes, I am one Tough Mudder, after all.

HELP WANTED: Dream Interpretation Needed.

Sorry it has been a while since my last blog. In fact my last post was by a guest blogger. But the simple truth was that I had nothing to write about. And I refuse to bore readers with the details of my everyday life (like some bloggers).

But just to update you, I have been writing with a ferocity I have never felt before. I am very excited about this story and that’s why this next novel is moving along. Though still in its rough draft state of infancy, I have a clear vision of where it’s going.

The purpose of this post is to reach out and see if there is anyone out there who can help me. You see, for the past 25 years I have had a recurrent dream. It is a dream with variations on the same theme. As I dream I recognize it as such. Moreover, I believe it is connected with the novel I am currently writing. Perhaps, for 25 years I have been destined to write this story.

So, for those who are not interested in dream interpretations, feel free to stop reading at this point. You won’t hurt my feelings. For those who are interested I would love you to leave a comment here, or email me at: lauren@laurenbgrossman.com.

Each dream involves a large house with many rooms. I am the owner. As I enter each room there is a door which leads to other rooms, which lead to more rooms, etc.
Example of a dream I had maybe 20 years ago, but is still vivid in my mind: I have just bought a house and I enter a room. It has dark paneling and lots of built-ins. The former owners must have left in a hurry because the drawers still are full. At first I am annoyed that I have to clear out their mess, but then I realize that you never know what you might find. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure, right? I leave that room to explore my new house, and I enter a room. It is as large as a warehouse. There are many beds in this room. Metal springs and thin mattresses – the kind you had when you lived in a dorm in college. They are all strewn about the room n disorder. I make my way through the room and pass into another room, which is obviously some sort of trailer. I think to myself, “Oh good, I own a trailer, too.” There are other smaller details, but that is the gist.

Another dream is in an apartment I live in which has doors that lead to many other rooms. Some have stairs to climb to get to the next room.

The one particular dream I had which lends me to believe it is a connection with my novel was this: A white manse which I have gone through, though I never make it through every room for there are too many. I find myself at the bottom of a hill looking up at the manse. It sits on a grassy knoll with an identical manse slightly angled next to it. I am with children at play. A nun comes for us (I am Jewish) and tells us to follow her. I realize this residence is an orphanage and I live there. I can still see it clearly.

As I said, the dreams are the variations on the same theme. But why do I have these recurrent dreams? Not every night, not even every month, but several times in a year, I will awaken and recognize the theme.

Here’s the clincher for those readers who have stayed awake reading with this post: My novel is about a real woman who survived the Holocaust because her parents could not afford to feed her. Like many people had to do, they sent her to an orphanage run by nuns. It is only a small portion of her story, which I have turned into an historical fiction. But I had the revelation while rereading the story that it connects to my dream of when I was an orphan looking up at the white manse on the hill.

Karma? Reincarnation? Coincidence? Too much spicy foods before bedtime?

Seriously, if you have any thoughts I would welcome them. It has baffled me for 25 years. My hope is that if it is a connect to this novel, that the dreams will end when I finally go to publication.

What are your thoughts?