Today I went out for a short run to clear my head and recover from the marathon. As soon as I got out there, I felt better. In a way, I think that the first run after a marathon makes me feel as much like a runner as the marathon itself. Because of the return, of the homeness. I break into a glide (or a hobble) and remember. After my first marathon I took ten days to recover before running again. These days I take one or two, but the feeling is the same. Relief.
I was in such a mood when I got home. Grouchy, out of sorts, wanting to lash out at someone but knowing that I really didn't. I don't have anyone to be mad at. Spring is hard at work. I went out to look at my garden: 14 young green bean plants uncurling in the dirt made me happy, but not completely. I hadn't even totally planned on running since my foot has still been hurting, but suddenly I needed to really badly. I came inside to change, searching like a crazy person for my stuff where I had thrown my bag when I got home Sunday. Not only did I desperately need to run, but I very much needed to listen to Chris Pureka while I did it. I tore up the house looking for headphones and finally found some.
Out on the road in the heat under the blue sky and trees, I found my peace. "Swann Song" came on, with the chorus, "It was a good life, yeah it was a good life. I'd do it all again." I started thinking about the things I would do again, the things from my childhood that I would like to do maybe even just one more time. I would like to wander aimlessly in the country and slide under a barbed wire fence like I go in and out of doors these days. I would like to play in another softball tournament. Not as an adult. As a 12 year old, finish up dusty and sit back against bat bags drinking cokes and taking off my cleats and socks and looking at my hot, dirty feet. I would like to spend a night with my childhood best friend, Cristi, laughing and laughing at Skip Bo and the very first Mario Brothers and I would like her to beat me at Monopoly while her cat lay on the top of the box next to us. I would like to play catch with Taffy one more time. I would like her to bring me her tennis ball and drop it at my feet and I would like to throw it and throw it down the hall in the house I grew up in, bouncing it off my mom and dad's bedroom door and watching Taffy put the breaks on and scramble back up the hallway for the ball. I would like to drive in the dark down a country road in the summer with all the windows down and watch the lightning bugs in the field, so many that the field looked alive and full and magical. I would like to walk down the basement stairs again, only one stair with carpet, and maybe turn old bits of sheet rock to dust outside the basement door with my brother. I would like to fall asleep on the floor on a sheet in front of a box fan in the middle of the summer in a house with no air conditioning and wake up chilled.
I would like to know where the mark is that divides my childhood from my adulthood, where the line is that marks what was possible then and what is impossible now. I would like back the parts of me that I gave away in my teenage years for no good reason.
Running took me there, running and the sweet salty sound of Chris Pureka's voice. Right now I'm not sure if it's the best place to be, but I do know that I bless the content feeling in my legs and knowing (or hoping) that it will be there for me next time.
Maybe you can go where I went. (Or in other words, go listen to the song that took me there.)
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Hogeye Marathoning
Today I finished the Hogeye Marathon in about 4:44. It was my fourth marathon and my third in six weeks. It was the race I needed to finish in order to qualify to be part of the Marathon Maniacs. I feel like a maniac, but I also feel pretty amazing.
I don't really feel like posting a real race report. The trails were pretty and the course was nice and the volunteer support was amazing. The hills were killer and I got tired pretty early on. I wasn't quite sure until, oh, mile 24, maybe? that I would be able to finish because of the weather. Running along a field with a full on view of a giant thunderstorm is disconcerting enough when you haven't been told there's a tornado warning. And like I said, I was tired. It's amazing how much different the experience is when you're well-trained and tapered. I ran 4:22:04 in Little Rock. It hurt, but it felt solid. I struggled in Jackson and I struggled today. I walked quite a bit. I know after another proper training period I'll be able to post some more good times.
But let's get to the important stuff. J was wonderful and supportive, as usual. We had fun Saturday evening at dinner with Allen and Susan, and then J, Ty, and I enjoyed our evening at the house just sitting around. That kind of comfortable time is priceless.
Allen had mentioned finding me along the trail, and it was so sweet of him to come out. He met me first at around 7.5 miles. He and Susan saw me sitting on the ground to cover a blister a bit after that and checked on me. Then I saw them at around mile 15 where the turnaround was, and towards the end around mile 23 (he reassured me that the tornado was going north of us. I really was reassured because I figured if he thought I was in actual danger he would tell me.) When I saw them I would smile and wave and say thanks and go on. I would be past them in a few seconds, but seeing them out there meant so much to me. The support and love of so many people is such a treasure. I soak it up and appreciate it every time, whether it's J carrying Ty from the hotel at 4:30 am in Tupelo or coordinating the Team Christi effort in Little Rock, my sister, Lee lee, Roy, Kristen, and Jason being at the finish there, my dad dropping everything to go to Jackson with Ty and me, J rolling out of bed before 6 this morning and then making it back to the finish with my bag of stuff and a towel (that Allen told her to get) in the threatening rain to pick me up, or Allen and Susan driving around Fayetteville to cheer me on. Then there's everyone who encourages me online, comments on photos, sends congrats. I am truly grateful for everything.
I had only a few deep thoughts while running today. Most of my thoughts had to do with the clouds and the direction of the wind, the hills, and my legs hurting. But I did think at one point that running a marathon (or just running!! or just living!!) means stopping when you have to but starting again even though you know it's going to hurt. It means doing something hard, cursing at it, finishing, celebrating, immediately sort of forgetting how much it kind of sucked and looking forward to doing it again. It teaches you to know that there will be people who are faster than you, but it doesn't matter because it's not about winning, it's about doing. It's about putting aside your self-consciousness and claiming something that will make you proud and make you feel strong. Of course, in my opinion, this is all life stuff.
Right now I don't have another marathon planned until September. That could change! ;)
I don't really feel like posting a real race report. The trails were pretty and the course was nice and the volunteer support was amazing. The hills were killer and I got tired pretty early on. I wasn't quite sure until, oh, mile 24, maybe? that I would be able to finish because of the weather. Running along a field with a full on view of a giant thunderstorm is disconcerting enough when you haven't been told there's a tornado warning. And like I said, I was tired. It's amazing how much different the experience is when you're well-trained and tapered. I ran 4:22:04 in Little Rock. It hurt, but it felt solid. I struggled in Jackson and I struggled today. I walked quite a bit. I know after another proper training period I'll be able to post some more good times.
But let's get to the important stuff. J was wonderful and supportive, as usual. We had fun Saturday evening at dinner with Allen and Susan, and then J, Ty, and I enjoyed our evening at the house just sitting around. That kind of comfortable time is priceless.
Allen had mentioned finding me along the trail, and it was so sweet of him to come out. He met me first at around 7.5 miles. He and Susan saw me sitting on the ground to cover a blister a bit after that and checked on me. Then I saw them at around mile 15 where the turnaround was, and towards the end around mile 23 (he reassured me that the tornado was going north of us. I really was reassured because I figured if he thought I was in actual danger he would tell me.) When I saw them I would smile and wave and say thanks and go on. I would be past them in a few seconds, but seeing them out there meant so much to me. The support and love of so many people is such a treasure. I soak it up and appreciate it every time, whether it's J carrying Ty from the hotel at 4:30 am in Tupelo or coordinating the Team Christi effort in Little Rock, my sister, Lee lee, Roy, Kristen, and Jason being at the finish there, my dad dropping everything to go to Jackson with Ty and me, J rolling out of bed before 6 this morning and then making it back to the finish with my bag of stuff and a towel (that Allen told her to get) in the threatening rain to pick me up, or Allen and Susan driving around Fayetteville to cheer me on. Then there's everyone who encourages me online, comments on photos, sends congrats. I am truly grateful for everything.
I had only a few deep thoughts while running today. Most of my thoughts had to do with the clouds and the direction of the wind, the hills, and my legs hurting. But I did think at one point that running a marathon (or just running!! or just living!!) means stopping when you have to but starting again even though you know it's going to hurt. It means doing something hard, cursing at it, finishing, celebrating, immediately sort of forgetting how much it kind of sucked and looking forward to doing it again. It teaches you to know that there will be people who are faster than you, but it doesn't matter because it's not about winning, it's about doing. It's about putting aside your self-consciousness and claiming something that will make you proud and make you feel strong. Of course, in my opinion, this is all life stuff.
Right now I don't have another marathon planned until September. That could change! ;)
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Uphill all the way.
I google everything. Don't we all? But for some reason it didn't occur to me until yesterday that I should google for advice on how to prepare for a marathon 1 month after a marathon. So I was winging it. I ran 8 miles one week after the Little Rock Marathon, and then on Sunday, I ran 17. (More on that later.) Yesterday I decided to google, finally, how to prepare for multiple marathons. That's when I found that I probably could have gotten by with 6 mile "long" runs during this month. Oh well. I rested yesterday and am resting today. Tomorrow, weather willing, I will go for a short run.
This need to do two more marathons is part stubbornness, part crazy, part attention-seeking behavior. Whatever it is, let's just hope it works out. I've registered for the Andrew Jackson Marathon on March 31 and the Hogeye Marathon on April 15.
Sunday's 17 miles...I set out wanting 18 with at least 16 (because I didn't really know what I was doing. I thought I needed all those miles to make sure I could run the marathon in two weeks.) The weather was warm and I didn't get out until 10. I'm used to the winter weather when the only requirement was to get done before dark. I also decided I needed a hill, so I took the turn to head up to Ft. Roots. It was quiet and pretty up there and I got a good picture from about 3/4 of the way up. It was a tough climb and my foot started to hurt again. The run down didn't help much.
I went on down towards the river walk and turned around. It started to get hot. I looked forward to the water fountain at the skate park, and it did not disappoint. Cool water in a wide, strong stream--I gulped some and refilled my water bottle. I also took a bathroom break and then went back towards Burns Park.
Back at my car, I drank some gatorade and opened a pack of Gu. My phone rang, a 1-800 number, and for some dumb reason I decided to answer it. I wasn't paying attention and dumped half the gu pack on my phone and into my spibelt. Sticky, gross, yuck--I ditched the phone and belt in my car and continued up the trail towards the Big Dam Bridge.
At this point I was over 11 miles and the last part of this run was grueling. It was hot, I was tired. I walked up part of the hill on the bridge, cursed the dry water fountain on the other side, and turned to come back. I walked more. I haven't had a run like that since last summer, one where I just could not keep going without walk breaks. For the last mile, I counted steps up to 100 and then started over, walking 100 steps for every 300 I ran. It was hot but my fatigue was worse, and the pain in my foot. I finally stopped for good at 17 miles and hobbled back to my car.
The rest of the day I was barely awake. I had a few beers and some lunch at Papito's with J and stumbled around Kroger with her. I got in bed at 6:30 and dozed, falling asleep for good early and not stirring until morning. I needed the rest.
This need to do two more marathons is part stubbornness, part crazy, part attention-seeking behavior. Whatever it is, let's just hope it works out. I've registered for the Andrew Jackson Marathon on March 31 and the Hogeye Marathon on April 15.
Sunday's 17 miles...I set out wanting 18 with at least 16 (because I didn't really know what I was doing. I thought I needed all those miles to make sure I could run the marathon in two weeks.) The weather was warm and I didn't get out until 10. I'm used to the winter weather when the only requirement was to get done before dark. I also decided I needed a hill, so I took the turn to head up to Ft. Roots. It was quiet and pretty up there and I got a good picture from about 3/4 of the way up. It was a tough climb and my foot started to hurt again. The run down didn't help much.
I went on down towards the river walk and turned around. It started to get hot. I looked forward to the water fountain at the skate park, and it did not disappoint. Cool water in a wide, strong stream--I gulped some and refilled my water bottle. I also took a bathroom break and then went back towards Burns Park.
Back at my car, I drank some gatorade and opened a pack of Gu. My phone rang, a 1-800 number, and for some dumb reason I decided to answer it. I wasn't paying attention and dumped half the gu pack on my phone and into my spibelt. Sticky, gross, yuck--I ditched the phone and belt in my car and continued up the trail towards the Big Dam Bridge.
At this point I was over 11 miles and the last part of this run was grueling. It was hot, I was tired. I walked up part of the hill on the bridge, cursed the dry water fountain on the other side, and turned to come back. I walked more. I haven't had a run like that since last summer, one where I just could not keep going without walk breaks. For the last mile, I counted steps up to 100 and then started over, walking 100 steps for every 300 I ran. It was hot but my fatigue was worse, and the pain in my foot. I finally stopped for good at 17 miles and hobbled back to my car.
The rest of the day I was barely awake. I had a few beers and some lunch at Papito's with J and stumbled around Kroger with her. I got in bed at 6:30 and dozed, falling asleep for good early and not stirring until morning. I needed the rest.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Gifts.
On Friday I went out for a 3 mile run. It was uneventful, but in the last quarter mile or so I approached some little boys on the sidewalk. Two were in a little power wheels car, and one was standing beside some daffodils. He had picked one just before I came along. It's quite likely that he wasn't supposed to be picking those flowers--who knows? As I came up to him, he suddenly looked up at me and said, "This for you!" and held out the flower. I pulled out an earphone to tell him thank you and how sweet he was, accepted my flower, and ran on home holding it. It's sitting on my windowsill in the kitchen now. Sweet little boy, sweet little yellow spring flower.
Today I planned on ten miles and only ran 8. That's ok, right, since I ran a marathon last weekend? I got the c-r-a-p scared out of me when another runner passed me on the right--this is where earphones can be problematic on the sidewalk. Just after the other runner passed me, I started to pass an elderly man who was walking. He motioned to me, so I stopped and again pulled out an earphone to listen. He told me that I had the most smooth, beautiful running style, and was I using any energy at all? I assured him that I was and he told me that he loved to see me run. I thanked him. Sweet guy.
I'm glad I stopped for a flower from a little boy and a compliment from an elderly gentleman. And I'm glad to see flowering trees and leaves, though I did think about this the other day--in winter we can see the delicate patterns of tree branches that are hidden in summer. It's bare and personal until the leaves come in. Soon enough, the unruly curls of crepe myrtles will tumble down.
Today I planned on ten miles and only ran 8. That's ok, right, since I ran a marathon last weekend? I got the c-r-a-p scared out of me when another runner passed me on the right--this is where earphones can be problematic on the sidewalk. Just after the other runner passed me, I started to pass an elderly man who was walking. He motioned to me, so I stopped and again pulled out an earphone to listen. He told me that I had the most smooth, beautiful running style, and was I using any energy at all? I assured him that I was and he told me that he loved to see me run. I thanked him. Sweet guy.
I'm glad I stopped for a flower from a little boy and a compliment from an elderly gentleman. And I'm glad to see flowering trees and leaves, though I did think about this the other day--in winter we can see the delicate patterns of tree branches that are hidden in summer. It's bare and personal until the leaves come in. Soon enough, the unruly curls of crepe myrtles will tumble down.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Race Report!
I went into this marathon with more positive energy because my knee wasn't injured. It felt "different," but not painful. That made me hopeful but cautious. Hopeful because I hoped to be able to run faster without the knee problems, but cautious because I knew that really, once I started running, anything could happen.
I stressed about what to wear with the weird weather, but that worked out fine. It was chilly outside when we first got there, but I ditched my newly purchased Goodwill jacket early on and my gloves not long after. I was pretty comfortable until the last 5 miles or so, when I would have loved to be in a tank and shorts. The sun was hot!
I have had so much support in running from J--support and understanding. It probably gets old to always be hearing "I have to run in the morning" and "I'll be over after my run" and "ZOMG what am I going to do about my run??" so I can't thank her enough for all the support and understanding. Especially this time. Running the Little Rock Marathon meant that I could really flex my attention whoring muscles since so many friends and family were around, and J coordinated the Team Christi effort on marathon morning. I had signs, flowers, and pictures and I saw them as I headed into the finish. So cool! I've got her sign, my cool sign from Tyler, and my German sign from Jason that I plan to hang on to.
I also had a send off from one of my dads. That was cool--instead of standing around wondering what to do with my hands, we chatted before the start and he gave me a hug and a hankie just in case I had snot issues in the cold. I ran with it the whole way and will be hanging on to it to remember--his hankies have been in my life for as long as he has.
I started out running with the 4:25 pace team. Marie from Pittsburgh has run 225 marathons and said that she liked my annoying bar jokes. Talking to people always helps and continuous conversation really makes it feel like the race is flying by, and I felt strong and relaxed through the first 13-14 miles. Then we started heading uphill.
The pace team got quiet. I started to pull ahead a little because I was looking forward to seeing Ashley McBryde at the top of the hill. At first I thought maybe I would get ahead a little and then hang out where Ashley was singing for a minute until the pace team caught up with me and then I would move on with them. What made me keep going? I don't know. I heard Ashley singing from about a block away, kicked up the speed a little, gave a little scream as I passed by, grabbed a banana, and kept going. I was still feeling good and I knew that I would be going downhill soon.
And so I was. But downhill after 16 miles isn't really fun. Mostly it just means trying to keep your speed down so you don't hurt your knees or do a faceplant on the road. I mean, if you're fast as hell it may not be like that, but for me it is. I was happy to make it to the bottom and head on down toward the river.
I had read that the river trail portion of the race was long and boring but I had to run it to believe it. I train down there. I like it down there. But it's long and boring. I caught a tiny bit of runner's high going through the 20 mile mark and I tried to hang on to it and ride it for a while, but it didn't work. It probably would have been better if I had stayed with the pace team. By that point I was half in love with finishing before 4:25, but there was also part of me that was happy with the cushion I had built up. I used it as a kind of fake incentive, like I could walk if I wanted until the 4:25 pace team caught me and then I could run with them. I guess I never did do it partly because if they did catch me, what would be pushing me then?
It started to hurt. My legs ached, my feet ached, and the sun was beating down. There was a girl just in front of me. I know her name was Mindy because it was on her bib and people called it out, and because she spoke to me at the finish line. She had earphones in or else I would have talked to her on the course. She and I kind of kept each other going even though we didn't talk. It was kind of an awareness thing. She would be in front for a while, then me for a bit, and then her again. The familiar sight of someone running the same pace helps even if you don't know who they are and you don't talk. She told me at the finish that she was thankful that I was there to pull her along, and I told her the same.
I walked through aid stations pretty slowly and wondered if I would be able to start running again. I peeled off the path once to stretch my calves. Some guy said something encouraging and I dragged myself back out there. I saw a guy still heading upriver adjusting his artificial leg and did the whole AT LEAST YOU HAVE TWO LEGS THAT HURT thing. I told someone around 24.5 miles that I wanted to walk it in. We turned onto Cantrell and I cursed the hill, the first of two hills on Cantrell. On the way up the second hill on Cantrell I chanted, "This sucks. This sucks. This sucks."
I guess at about 25.5 miles I decided I was going to make it. There was a water stop around that time and I told the guy, "I think I'm going to run it in" and didn't stop for a drink. I hurt but I could hear the finish. As I came in to the crowd I watched the people, scanning for my family. Finally I saw J holding my sign, "Run Christi Run," with her camera and I screamed and gave a big thumbs up. I grinned hard as I crossed the finish in 4:22:04, three minutes faster than I had hoped and 26 minutes faster than my first marathon.
I don't have lots of experience with marathons (yet), but Little Rock is awesome. So many different people walking and running, music, spectators. I love it. Last year when I was running the half and the marathoners split off, I was jealous. This year I was one of those crazy people taking the whole trip, and I loved it. I can't wait to do it again.
Having a gang of people there at the finish was wonderful and I felt so loved and blessed. I know that the more I do this the less it will be a big deal, but that's ok. I've had two amazing marathon experiences. The first was special because it was just J, Tyler, and me in Tupelo. I was grouchy and scared and that made the finish all the more exhilarating and overwhelming. This time I was thrilled to feel stronger and finish faster and enjoy my friends and family and the feeling of having done it again. I remember when the Little Rock Marathon first started. I read about the training group in the newspaper and thought, "That would be cool, but I could never do it." But I can and I have and other people can, too.
Last night I started planning my future marathons. I can't wait to do it again.
I stressed about what to wear with the weird weather, but that worked out fine. It was chilly outside when we first got there, but I ditched my newly purchased Goodwill jacket early on and my gloves not long after. I was pretty comfortable until the last 5 miles or so, when I would have loved to be in a tank and shorts. The sun was hot!
I have had so much support in running from J--support and understanding. It probably gets old to always be hearing "I have to run in the morning" and "I'll be over after my run" and "ZOMG what am I going to do about my run??" so I can't thank her enough for all the support and understanding. Especially this time. Running the Little Rock Marathon meant that I could really flex my attention whoring muscles since so many friends and family were around, and J coordinated the Team Christi effort on marathon morning. I had signs, flowers, and pictures and I saw them as I headed into the finish. So cool! I've got her sign, my cool sign from Tyler, and my German sign from Jason that I plan to hang on to.
I also had a send off from one of my dads. That was cool--instead of standing around wondering what to do with my hands, we chatted before the start and he gave me a hug and a hankie just in case I had snot issues in the cold. I ran with it the whole way and will be hanging on to it to remember--his hankies have been in my life for as long as he has.
I started out running with the 4:25 pace team. Marie from Pittsburgh has run 225 marathons and said that she liked my annoying bar jokes. Talking to people always helps and continuous conversation really makes it feel like the race is flying by, and I felt strong and relaxed through the first 13-14 miles. Then we started heading uphill.
The pace team got quiet. I started to pull ahead a little because I was looking forward to seeing Ashley McBryde at the top of the hill. At first I thought maybe I would get ahead a little and then hang out where Ashley was singing for a minute until the pace team caught up with me and then I would move on with them. What made me keep going? I don't know. I heard Ashley singing from about a block away, kicked up the speed a little, gave a little scream as I passed by, grabbed a banana, and kept going. I was still feeling good and I knew that I would be going downhill soon.
And so I was. But downhill after 16 miles isn't really fun. Mostly it just means trying to keep your speed down so you don't hurt your knees or do a faceplant on the road. I mean, if you're fast as hell it may not be like that, but for me it is. I was happy to make it to the bottom and head on down toward the river.
I had read that the river trail portion of the race was long and boring but I had to run it to believe it. I train down there. I like it down there. But it's long and boring. I caught a tiny bit of runner's high going through the 20 mile mark and I tried to hang on to it and ride it for a while, but it didn't work. It probably would have been better if I had stayed with the pace team. By that point I was half in love with finishing before 4:25, but there was also part of me that was happy with the cushion I had built up. I used it as a kind of fake incentive, like I could walk if I wanted until the 4:25 pace team caught me and then I could run with them. I guess I never did do it partly because if they did catch me, what would be pushing me then?
It started to hurt. My legs ached, my feet ached, and the sun was beating down. There was a girl just in front of me. I know her name was Mindy because it was on her bib and people called it out, and because she spoke to me at the finish line. She had earphones in or else I would have talked to her on the course. She and I kind of kept each other going even though we didn't talk. It was kind of an awareness thing. She would be in front for a while, then me for a bit, and then her again. The familiar sight of someone running the same pace helps even if you don't know who they are and you don't talk. She told me at the finish that she was thankful that I was there to pull her along, and I told her the same.
I walked through aid stations pretty slowly and wondered if I would be able to start running again. I peeled off the path once to stretch my calves. Some guy said something encouraging and I dragged myself back out there. I saw a guy still heading upriver adjusting his artificial leg and did the whole AT LEAST YOU HAVE TWO LEGS THAT HURT thing. I told someone around 24.5 miles that I wanted to walk it in. We turned onto Cantrell and I cursed the hill, the first of two hills on Cantrell. On the way up the second hill on Cantrell I chanted, "This sucks. This sucks. This sucks."
I guess at about 25.5 miles I decided I was going to make it. There was a water stop around that time and I told the guy, "I think I'm going to run it in" and didn't stop for a drink. I hurt but I could hear the finish. As I came in to the crowd I watched the people, scanning for my family. Finally I saw J holding my sign, "Run Christi Run," with her camera and I screamed and gave a big thumbs up. I grinned hard as I crossed the finish in 4:22:04, three minutes faster than I had hoped and 26 minutes faster than my first marathon.
I don't have lots of experience with marathons (yet), but Little Rock is awesome. So many different people walking and running, music, spectators. I love it. Last year when I was running the half and the marathoners split off, I was jealous. This year I was one of those crazy people taking the whole trip, and I loved it. I can't wait to do it again.
Having a gang of people there at the finish was wonderful and I felt so loved and blessed. I know that the more I do this the less it will be a big deal, but that's ok. I've had two amazing marathon experiences. The first was special because it was just J, Tyler, and me in Tupelo. I was grouchy and scared and that made the finish all the more exhilarating and overwhelming. This time I was thrilled to feel stronger and finish faster and enjoy my friends and family and the feeling of having done it again. I remember when the Little Rock Marathon first started. I read about the training group in the newspaper and thought, "That would be cool, but I could never do it." But I can and I have and other people can, too.
Last night I started planning my future marathons. I can't wait to do it again.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
20 miles
This run was a big deal to me because I couldn't finish the 20 miler when I was training for my last marathon. I was nervous. Also, my runs this week were not great- my lower legs kept getting tight and I felt very tired. Then there was the weather report--COLD.
I had a very helpful nudge this morning--yogurt and OJ in bed. The wind was whistling outside and I was scared. I took my time and finally got out the door at about 8:45.
I went into Northlake first. I ran out of Indianbead, through Northlake, up the big hill on Jacksonville Cutoff, and back. I had about 7.75 miles when I stopped back at the house to top up my water.
I went through Gap Creek to Brockington and then up 107. The hill on 107 kicked my butt. I usually hit it 4 miles into a run, not 13 miles into a run. I told myself not to be a baby and I straightened up.
I didn't think much. I imagined finishing this next marathon. It's a hugely exhilarating feeling. I mentally celebrated the idea of tapering. I just counted down and hoped to make it. It was a good run at a good pace and I'm thrilled to have finished it.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I had a very helpful nudge this morning--yogurt and OJ in bed. The wind was whistling outside and I was scared. I took my time and finally got out the door at about 8:45.
I went into Northlake first. I ran out of Indianbead, through Northlake, up the big hill on Jacksonville Cutoff, and back. I had about 7.75 miles when I stopped back at the house to top up my water.
I went through Gap Creek to Brockington and then up 107. The hill on 107 kicked my butt. I usually hit it 4 miles into a run, not 13 miles into a run. I told myself not to be a baby and I straightened up.
I didn't think much. I imagined finishing this next marathon. It's a hugely exhilarating feeling. I mentally celebrated the idea of tapering. I just counted down and hoped to make it. It was a good run at a good pace and I'm thrilled to have finished it.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Things are moving.
This morning I got a late start (due to a truly lovely night full of laughter and sweet romance) and I didn't get out of bed until after ten. My plan had been to go to the river again and run the Ft. Roots hill, but since I didn't really feel like driving, I decided to just run Sherwood. There are hills here, right?
Oh God there are hills. I ran down Brockington and up the first big hill on 107. I was feeling a bit over confident at that point, 4.5 miles into a 14 mile run. I had just come up a hill that was almost half a mile, and I was all, "I'm just going to run 2 and a half more miles that way and then turn around and come back." J had met me at that point so I could top up my water bottles.
Only 2 and a half more miles involved a left hand turn onto Kiehl. Hills, hills, the hills have feet to kick me in the butt. That was a long 2 and a half miles. I was tired (and had a bit of a bad head.) But I finally made it to 7 miles and turned around.
Mostly on this run I had been thinking about hills (!!!) and how much further. I finally got into a good rhythm after about 8 or so miles. I ran up one of the last hills and, at the top, the sun burst over the trees and washed me thoroughly in light. I felt elated and bathed in gladness, and I thought of this poem that Savanna shared with me a few months ago. Here is a bit of it:
Extending sunflower
roots synchronized with warm soil
petals frayed and aching
still bursting to the wind
your colour melts into my solemn chest
And I find that beauty is not whole
(your part) Trembling wind strand on a sunlit blade
I love you most of all
The morning paints your body
whispers "run"
and reminds us both that things are moving
And I spent much of the rest of the run thinking about all of the ways in which life is motion. Life is never still. Hearts beat, blood rushes, and we breathe in and out. Life is never stagnant, but sometimes, emotionally, philosophically, or merely in practice, we become so. There are so many ways to move and be alive, and I thought of them a word at a time: Run. Parent. Teach. Smile. Laugh. Sow. Sew! Knit. Create. Cook. Write. Paint. Play. Hug. Work.
So many things we can do, and no matter how we become frayed and aching, no matter how our beauty may seem fragmented, it exists. It may be fragile or tentative, but it just needs tending.
About 2 miles from the house I felt euphoric. The sun was up high and I pulled out my water bottle for a drink. I sang a little and lifted my bottle up in a toast to the sun. Run. Things are moving.
Oh God there are hills. I ran down Brockington and up the first big hill on 107. I was feeling a bit over confident at that point, 4.5 miles into a 14 mile run. I had just come up a hill that was almost half a mile, and I was all, "I'm just going to run 2 and a half more miles that way and then turn around and come back." J had met me at that point so I could top up my water bottles.
Only 2 and a half more miles involved a left hand turn onto Kiehl. Hills, hills, the hills have feet to kick me in the butt. That was a long 2 and a half miles. I was tired (and had a bit of a bad head.) But I finally made it to 7 miles and turned around.
Mostly on this run I had been thinking about hills (!!!) and how much further. I finally got into a good rhythm after about 8 or so miles. I ran up one of the last hills and, at the top, the sun burst over the trees and washed me thoroughly in light. I felt elated and bathed in gladness, and I thought of this poem that Savanna shared with me a few months ago. Here is a bit of it:
Extending sunflower
roots synchronized with warm soil
petals frayed and aching
still bursting to the wind
your colour melts into my solemn chest
And I find that beauty is not whole
(your part) Trembling wind strand on a sunlit blade
I love you most of all
The morning paints your body
whispers "run"
and reminds us both that things are moving
And I spent much of the rest of the run thinking about all of the ways in which life is motion. Life is never still. Hearts beat, blood rushes, and we breathe in and out. Life is never stagnant, but sometimes, emotionally, philosophically, or merely in practice, we become so. There are so many ways to move and be alive, and I thought of them a word at a time: Run. Parent. Teach. Smile. Laugh. Sow. Sew! Knit. Create. Cook. Write. Paint. Play. Hug. Work.
So many things we can do, and no matter how we become frayed and aching, no matter how our beauty may seem fragmented, it exists. It may be fragile or tentative, but it just needs tending.
About 2 miles from the house I felt euphoric. The sun was up high and I pulled out my water bottle for a drink. I sang a little and lifted my bottle up in a toast to the sun. Run. Things are moving.
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