My four miles this morning started out tough. I felt tired and clunky and my shins started to tighten up. I trudged along at over 10 minutes per mile, hurting, panting, dragging. Runs like that are disheartening. Even though I know better, I question whether I'll ever have a good run again. I thought, if this is bad, what will tomorrow's 9 miles feel like? How will I ever do 18 on Saturday? I thought maybe I would give up on the marathon. What made me think I could do something crazy like that? I could sleep in the rest of my summer break.
I found my heart at about half way through. I thought, even though this is hard, I don't have to let it drag me down. I picked my head up. I put on a touch of speed. In life, I told myself, don't let things drag you down. Pick them up and drag them along with you. I thought about that for a while and then hit a snag. Shouldn't I be trying to leave behind the things that are dragging me down? Throw off the baggage and just run, free and strong and happy? Sure, yeah, if this is a fairy tale and I'm trying to fool myself and anyone who might read this. Life doesn't work that way and neither does running. I can't always throw off the things that are weighing on my mind any more than I can throw off shin pain or the 93% humidity of this morning. But I can pick my head up and put on a touch of speed and just drag all that shit along with me.
I finished up feeling strong this morning, with the reminder that I can find strength when I didn't think I had any. That's the most important lesson. That, and the audacity of hope. Who came up with that? It wasn't me, but it seems like I remember Pastor Randy saying something about it before---to hope, to set goals, to keep going, to have faith---that's audacious. You have to do more than believe because sometimes maybe your belief will fail you, and that's when you just have to plunge on forward with the audacity of hope, daring to try.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Two Rivers Bridge Run!
This morning I was pretty happy about a short 12 mile run. I remember very clearly when I thought it was impossible that I'd ever run 3 miles, and after the past 2 weeks, 12 miles seems like a short run. I got down to the river trail just before 7, excited that the Two Rivers Bridge was supposed to be open today.
The trail was much more crowded than usual--lots of people planning to check out the new bridge. Some clouds blocked the sun for the first part of my run and it was just about comfortable. I crossed the big dam bridge, refilled on water, and headed down towards the 430 bridge.
As I got closer to the bridge, I could see cyclists crossing it. YES! I'd been waiting for this forever. A reporter was being filmed at the base of the bridge as I started over--I have hopes that my backside was on tv today. I admired the metal parts of the bridge--already deeply rusted, I wondered if that was done on purpose to give the bridge some kind of vintage look. Either way, it works. Once I crossed, I went straight on the trail in Two Rivers Park. It was nice--almost immediately the trail goes into thick pine forest. At one point the swampy water comes right up to the trail, so--yeah, I was on snake watch. None surfaced, though, and I ran up to the entrance to the park on the other side, made the circle, and crossed back over.
The second half of the run was much much hotter. The clouds were gone and the sun was hot hot. My face burned and I reminded myself that it's never hard to keep going when it's easy. It's when it's hard that shows me what I'm capable of. I kept going today--no extra stops away from the water fountain. Even though I looked forward to a 12 miler and it did feel good, I didn't get the same sense of satisfaction when it was over. I did a lot of thinking about how to run the 18 miles next week. I'm thinking about heading to downtown first to get the first ten miles in and then going over the bridges and back for the last 8.
I keep telling myself: 18, 14, 20, 12. Those are the long runs I have left in training before the race. Plus a few 8-10 milers. Still. 4 more weeks. I'm getting there.
The trail was much more crowded than usual--lots of people planning to check out the new bridge. Some clouds blocked the sun for the first part of my run and it was just about comfortable. I crossed the big dam bridge, refilled on water, and headed down towards the 430 bridge.
As I got closer to the bridge, I could see cyclists crossing it. YES! I'd been waiting for this forever. A reporter was being filmed at the base of the bridge as I started over--I have hopes that my backside was on tv today. I admired the metal parts of the bridge--already deeply rusted, I wondered if that was done on purpose to give the bridge some kind of vintage look. Either way, it works. Once I crossed, I went straight on the trail in Two Rivers Park. It was nice--almost immediately the trail goes into thick pine forest. At one point the swampy water comes right up to the trail, so--yeah, I was on snake watch. None surfaced, though, and I ran up to the entrance to the park on the other side, made the circle, and crossed back over.
The second half of the run was much much hotter. The clouds were gone and the sun was hot hot. My face burned and I reminded myself that it's never hard to keep going when it's easy. It's when it's hard that shows me what I'm capable of. I kept going today--no extra stops away from the water fountain. Even though I looked forward to a 12 miler and it did feel good, I didn't get the same sense of satisfaction when it was over. I did a lot of thinking about how to run the 18 miles next week. I'm thinking about heading to downtown first to get the first ten miles in and then going over the bridges and back for the last 8.
I keep telling myself: 18, 14, 20, 12. Those are the long runs I have left in training before the race. Plus a few 8-10 milers. Still. 4 more weeks. I'm getting there.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I'm a stick.
I like to think that running clears my head. That it's my therapy, my way of making sense of things, the time of day when I remember what life and the world are really made of. When it doesn't work out that way, I get hit hard. Harder, even, because I don't know what's there to catch me.
Yesterday I decided that right now, I feel like a stick. A medium-ish stick the size that my son would pick up and use like a sword. (When we were on vacation last summer, he had a special stick at each stop along the way.) I used to be growing on a tree, but a couple of months ago, I was torn off in a storm. Suddenly, unexpectedly. For a while, I thought I was going to be fine. I was still green, and if I could just keep moving forward, it would be ok. But that's the way it is with sticks---they get more and more brittle, and yesterday I decided that I was dried now, and about to break. I wanted to break, even. Wished to. I thought about how if I could finally just melt, somehow everything would be easier.
Today is better. I don't want to melt--I want to be strong, and....together? It's difficult, though, in so many ways. Strength can be mistaken for callousness, for haughtiness, for plain old ok-ness. I'm not any of those. I spend so much time in life seeing all the other sides and being so unsure. I usually think that unsure is my friend because when you're sure, you can miss things, ideas, ways of glimpsing the truth. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the person that is really sure. Words have been crowding my mind for so long now, though, that I don't know which ones should be allowed out and which ones should be encouraged to fade. I don't know which ones are a glimpse of the truth and which ones aren't.
Running has been the part of my life for over two years now that has made me feel strong, that made my eyes fill with tears sometimes with gratitude for being able to do it. I was so impatient to get to the part of marathon training that would bring new distances that would really impress me. Because when my runs post to facebook, sure, yeah, I love seeing the compliments. I do, and I appreciate with my heart every person that says anything. I appreciate even more the possibility that anyone might really care to see and celebrate with me. But it really is about impressing myself. When I finished 15 miles the week before last, I was thrilled.
Sunday I did 16 and I was not. I finished it, but I stopped to rest more times than ever before. I did not feel strong or powerful. I felt defeated. And it could be the heat or the sun, and I know it's an accomplishment, I do. But I think that it hurt me to not feel like I had escaped through that run.
I've been stopping and starting my whole life; who doesn't, really? For the last couple of weeks I've been listening to The Help. I started out just listening on runs, but then I started listening every chance I could get. And I've cried. I've cried at hearing about the women whose talents weren't recognized and celebrated, but I've cried more at the instinct that made me assume that you would think that Minnie would appreciate Celia's offer of friendship, or Skeeter's, that that friendship would somehow make anything better. It shows me in myself what the much-hated (at least locally) equity training workshop wanted everyone to see: there is stuff in us that doesn't belong there and to get it out, we have to want it out and we have to dig for it. How do you make yourself or anyone want to dig out the parts that don't belong?
I ran 8 miles this morning before heading in to day two of a training workshop. I felt stronger and more positive and I really needed that. But my runs aren't pounding anything out of me right now. I cannot connect all this together. Not what's going on in my life right now and not what I'm getting out of this book, regardless of whether they are connected or not. I know I need to resist the urge to sob and beg someone, anyone, to make things easier. And I can run, literally, in the mornings, getting the miles in, but I can't run metaphorically like I want to. There's pain here, and it's not the good kind that you embrace and sift through. It's the destructive kind, the kind you have to face.
Yesterday I decided that right now, I feel like a stick. A medium-ish stick the size that my son would pick up and use like a sword. (When we were on vacation last summer, he had a special stick at each stop along the way.) I used to be growing on a tree, but a couple of months ago, I was torn off in a storm. Suddenly, unexpectedly. For a while, I thought I was going to be fine. I was still green, and if I could just keep moving forward, it would be ok. But that's the way it is with sticks---they get more and more brittle, and yesterday I decided that I was dried now, and about to break. I wanted to break, even. Wished to. I thought about how if I could finally just melt, somehow everything would be easier.
Today is better. I don't want to melt--I want to be strong, and....together? It's difficult, though, in so many ways. Strength can be mistaken for callousness, for haughtiness, for plain old ok-ness. I'm not any of those. I spend so much time in life seeing all the other sides and being so unsure. I usually think that unsure is my friend because when you're sure, you can miss things, ideas, ways of glimpsing the truth. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be the person that is really sure. Words have been crowding my mind for so long now, though, that I don't know which ones should be allowed out and which ones should be encouraged to fade. I don't know which ones are a glimpse of the truth and which ones aren't.
Running has been the part of my life for over two years now that has made me feel strong, that made my eyes fill with tears sometimes with gratitude for being able to do it. I was so impatient to get to the part of marathon training that would bring new distances that would really impress me. Because when my runs post to facebook, sure, yeah, I love seeing the compliments. I do, and I appreciate with my heart every person that says anything. I appreciate even more the possibility that anyone might really care to see and celebrate with me. But it really is about impressing myself. When I finished 15 miles the week before last, I was thrilled.
Sunday I did 16 and I was not. I finished it, but I stopped to rest more times than ever before. I did not feel strong or powerful. I felt defeated. And it could be the heat or the sun, and I know it's an accomplishment, I do. But I think that it hurt me to not feel like I had escaped through that run.
I've been stopping and starting my whole life; who doesn't, really? For the last couple of weeks I've been listening to The Help. I started out just listening on runs, but then I started listening every chance I could get. And I've cried. I've cried at hearing about the women whose talents weren't recognized and celebrated, but I've cried more at the instinct that made me assume that you would think that Minnie would appreciate Celia's offer of friendship, or Skeeter's, that that friendship would somehow make anything better. It shows me in myself what the much-hated (at least locally) equity training workshop wanted everyone to see: there is stuff in us that doesn't belong there and to get it out, we have to want it out and we have to dig for it. How do you make yourself or anyone want to dig out the parts that don't belong?
I ran 8 miles this morning before heading in to day two of a training workshop. I felt stronger and more positive and I really needed that. But my runs aren't pounding anything out of me right now. I cannot connect all this together. Not what's going on in my life right now and not what I'm getting out of this book, regardless of whether they are connected or not. I know I need to resist the urge to sob and beg someone, anyone, to make things easier. And I can run, literally, in the mornings, getting the miles in, but I can't run metaphorically like I want to. There's pain here, and it's not the good kind that you embrace and sift through. It's the destructive kind, the kind you have to face.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
On survival and post-race eating
Last night Tyler and I met Katie and Tippy for the Big Dam Bridge Twilight 5k. Tippy was looking astonishing in her pink harness and leash and was more than ready to knock out 3 miles. We stood around and enjoyed the band for a while before the race. I attempted to dance, which is obviously hugely embarrassing to a ten year old, so I danced and dodged various karate chops and flying leaps until the race started.
Ty wanted to do a little jogging, so he and I went a little ahead of Katie and Tippy. We jogged and walked and talked and enjoyed the surroundings. Or I pointed out how pretty the sky/river/sunset/view from the bridge looked and Ty rolled his eyes at me and I insisted that One Day You'll Appreciate the Love for Nature I've Instilled in You. He, in turn, insisted that he just wanted to survive the race. But it wasn't even real whining and I think he had a good time with his crazy mom. I had a lovely time for sure--cutting up with Ty, the breeze from the top of the bridge, Pinnacle Mountain all hazy below the pink sunset, the river--What a good place to be!
After the race Katie gave Tippy a piece of pizza, which she enjoyed (and managed to eat delicately and look entitled to), while Ty and I picked back up with the karate dancing. At one point he told me, "No one will think you're a bad mom because they all think you're my sister." Cute little punk kid didn't even know he was complimenting his mom, but Katie pointed out on facebook that they may have thought I was his 12 year old brother. Well, either way is fine. It was a great time.
Much earlier yesterday morning I went to the river trail for my longest run yet, 15 miles. I had my Master Plan for avoiding heat stroke: go over the big damn bridge, turn around, and come right back, thus avoiding the Hot Bit at 9:30 am. I did this. The first couple of miles were not so great. My lower legs tightened up and my speed hovered around 10 minutes per mile--not horrible for me (and a 15 miler) but not what I would like to see. During the hot spot that wasn't hot I got behind another runner. I don't know who she was, but I appreciate her, because running behind someone for a bit sort of altered my rhythm and pushed my speed past that hump. I dropped off to refill my water at the 5 mile mark, but I was good and warm and didn't have much trouble staying at around 9:30 or less for the rest of the run.
I went on towards downtown North Little Rock. I like this part of the trail because it's so segmented. There are the two bridges, the woodsy part with the turn-off to Emerald Park, the hill along the river, the part with the big circles in the sidewalk. Then it's on past the skate park, down the road, under the railroad bridge, and into the North Little Rock riverfront area. Somehow the segments seem to make it go by more quickly. I turned around at 10.1 miles and headed back. I started to feel some blisters on my right foot. Luckily I'd planned for this, so at the skate park again I took off my shoe and put some moleskin on them. Next week I'll start out that way. I rejoiced at seeing the 12.3 miles on my garmin at this point--less than 3 miles to go!
All this time I'd been thinking I would have about a 5th of a mile to walk before reaching my car, but I realized with about a mile to go that I'd miscalculated and turned around too soon. At 14 miles I started thinking, You Can Do It over and over in my head, a mindless running mantra to get me to 15 miles on tired legs. To survive the race, even though it was just with myself right then. I had to pass my car a bit but finally made the mileage and stepped off the trail.
And there it was, that feeling. Like I wasn't even walking, just gliding along the top of the grass. Runner's High. Or maybe just high on accomplishing something. Tears pushing at my eyes and the urge to laugh. Immediate cool breeze and peace. Contentment.
Seriously chowing down at Waffle House later with J was pretty awesome, too.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Summer Running
This morning while I was running I started making a list of all the ways in which summer running is better than winter running. Here it is.
1. Snot
Yes, that's right. If you're a runner, you know this happens, and if you're not, you think I'm gross and you may want to skip to number 2. During a summer run, you can reasonably expect snot to blend in with sweat. Not so much in the winter.
2. The first 5 minutes
In winter, the first 5 minutes or so of a run are the ones that suck. Those first 5 minutes can make me seriously consider skipping a run altogether, did get me to skip runs in the first year. During the summer, those first 5 minutes are the only ones that don't suck.
3. Light
This one is so boring I almost skipped it, but it belongs here. Sunlight is limited in winter and I don't run in the dark.
4. Flowers
Summer running smells good! (Well, the air does. Maybe not me.)
5. Breezes
It takes a good, sweaty summer run to make you really appreciate a nice breeze. In fact, the breeze may feel like it came straight from God in order to keep you upright.
Despite the fact that summer heat is awful to run in, I know I'll miss it horribly when it's gone.
Last week I squeezed my weekday runs into Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday so we could leave for Washington, DC on Wednesday. I had one 10 miler that I still needed to get in, and after getting some input from Michelle, I decided to head down to the National Mall to do it. It seemed pretty simple from the map...but I still managed to get lost. I did a lot of that run while looking down at the little blue dot on my phone and trying to find my way. At one point I finally saw the Washington Monument sticking up and put the phone away, thinking I could find my way now that I'd seen that. Not so much! But I did eventually make it to the mall. I ran around the Lincoln Memorial, through a park, around the Washington Monument, and down towards the Capitol Building before heading back up (literally, up a hill) to the hotel.
I'm not great with directions and tend to be pretty nervous about doing things on my own, but the need to get the miles in pushes me to go on and get out there. I was apprehensive about it, but it's a great feeling in the end to know that I can and will be able to push myself out of the comfort zone to do things that are important to me. Even if I do have to stop and start over and over until I get headed in the right direction!
This morning, after 3 days of not running, I did 3 miles with a little speed work on a relatively cool morning back in Arkansas. I have my longest run yet, 15 miles, coming up on Saturday, and am thinking of doing the Big Dam Bridge 5k with Ty that evening. Hot or not, I love summer running.
1. Snot
Yes, that's right. If you're a runner, you know this happens, and if you're not, you think I'm gross and you may want to skip to number 2. During a summer run, you can reasonably expect snot to blend in with sweat. Not so much in the winter.
2. The first 5 minutes
In winter, the first 5 minutes or so of a run are the ones that suck. Those first 5 minutes can make me seriously consider skipping a run altogether, did get me to skip runs in the first year. During the summer, those first 5 minutes are the only ones that don't suck.
3. Light
This one is so boring I almost skipped it, but it belongs here. Sunlight is limited in winter and I don't run in the dark.
4. Flowers
Summer running smells good! (Well, the air does. Maybe not me.)
5. Breezes
It takes a good, sweaty summer run to make you really appreciate a nice breeze. In fact, the breeze may feel like it came straight from God in order to keep you upright.
Despite the fact that summer heat is awful to run in, I know I'll miss it horribly when it's gone.
Last week I squeezed my weekday runs into Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday so we could leave for Washington, DC on Wednesday. I had one 10 miler that I still needed to get in, and after getting some input from Michelle, I decided to head down to the National Mall to do it. It seemed pretty simple from the map...but I still managed to get lost. I did a lot of that run while looking down at the little blue dot on my phone and trying to find my way. At one point I finally saw the Washington Monument sticking up and put the phone away, thinking I could find my way now that I'd seen that. Not so much! But I did eventually make it to the mall. I ran around the Lincoln Memorial, through a park, around the Washington Monument, and down towards the Capitol Building before heading back up (literally, up a hill) to the hotel.
I'm not great with directions and tend to be pretty nervous about doing things on my own, but the need to get the miles in pushes me to go on and get out there. I was apprehensive about it, but it's a great feeling in the end to know that I can and will be able to push myself out of the comfort zone to do things that are important to me. Even if I do have to stop and start over and over until I get headed in the right direction!
This morning, after 3 days of not running, I did 3 miles with a little speed work on a relatively cool morning back in Arkansas. I have my longest run yet, 15 miles, coming up on Saturday, and am thinking of doing the Big Dam Bridge 5k with Ty that evening. Hot or not, I love summer running.
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