Take Me Home Country Roads

This morning, I woke early to go for a run in the "Woods" of Indiana near a boarding school where I used to teach. Powered by memories of yesterday's commencement ceremony and my delight at escaping the city for the weekend to be with old friends, I set out into nature sans ipod. (Okay, I really ran sans ipod because mine is, at present, lost. But let's just say I wanted to commune with nature...)

My path for the day was old and familiar, a three mile ring of road around the campus, running past the main gate, the headmaster's house, a horse farm, some fallow fields, through a thick grove of trees beside a lake and home again. At first, I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get in the grove, that the mind body connection needed for a good run simply wasn't going to happen because I am out of my usual element and without my usual gear. Something else happened instead; I loved it--most of it.

When I first moved out to the Woods from the bustling streets of Washington DC, I found the silence deafening; I hated the lack of traffic and sound; disliked the wildlife and the wide stretches of land. It took me a week to notice the stars. And now, when I return, I find myself hungering for the quiet and the space, the trees and the stars. As I am apt to do, I must have missed the point of live out here while I was living it.

On the run today, I had to fight for a while to find my rhythm; I also hate the sound of my own footfalls on the ground--they're never fast enough. I had to push myself up one hill and over another until I came to the end of the circuit, a flat wide curve where I hit my stride again.

And then I saw a water moccasin.

At the moment I ran past I wasn't sure what kind of snake it was (my frind Beth confirmed my suspicions when I returned to her house, sweaty and a little bit frazzled.) I simply saw the big black slithering thing and thought: I bet you could kill me. I screamed for a second ( I know, like a girl) and then just kept running. I've lived in the woods before; snakes don't scare me; if I run in the opposite direction of the snake, I'll be out of it's path. End of story. I even went around the circuit again just to get the miles in and when I returned, my slithering nemesis was gone.

No harm, no foul.

I should clarify my girlyness with the confession that I am terrified of poisonous snakes. Not snakes or reptiles in general. I am, at large a great lover of scaly things but (with good reason) I've always hated/ had an overblown irrational fear of the fanged ones. In high school, at a herpetology lecture, I came nose-to-glass with a rattlesnake and passed out cold.

This time, like a champion, I just kept on running, happy to be home in the woods and to put a few miles between me and fangs.

First Ten

For a while now, I've heard that completing one's first ten-mile run is a rite of passage in runner-hood. Legend has it that somehow after the 17600th yard on the pavement you morph from an amateur or a hopeful into  a real runner, like Pinocchio, who through wishing, becomes a real boy.

I don't usually by into mythology, but this I'll support. Yesterday, I ran ten miles and it felt awesome.

In the morning, there was a part of me that feared for my knees and my lungs, feared that my body would give out long before my spirit wanted it to. But, the spirit pushed me to the finish and my body did just fine. I kept telling myself that the first six miles were a "warm-up", just long enough to get the kinks and the " I'm tired today" out of my body and run on for four more miles. It worked. Michele and I finished in just over 1:39 and ran a nice, steady pace for most of the route save the terrible Comm Ave hills (my calves and I have a newfound respect for all Boston Marathoners!) which we took a little slower, and the downhill dip just before Coolidge Corner where I scraped all the skin off of my right knee. As a sat, bleeding on the sidewalk, Michele asked:

" Do you want to keep going?" The tone in her voice was equally concerned and determined because she knew my answer would be: "Yes".

While running my first ten, I finally had time to get in a groove and to be really aware of how my body was working and feeling. I kept asking myself : Are you comfortable? breathing evenly? how's this pace? and the answers came back mostly positive: I'm fine. I'm strong. I might want to give up on this next hill/ I definitely want to give up on this hill, but I won't.

I'm not sure how the training will go from here, and frankly, I'm a little overwhelmed by the idea of pushing my self for 20 more miles after I  get all warmed up, but I guess that will come with time.  A ten mile run is just the beginning of the race for 26.2. Hopefully the end of this training cycle 26.2 miles will no longer be a ridiculous dream a dream or a battle but a confident reality, one in which I tell myself to just to keep on going because--even if I'm clumsy/ bloodied/ thirsty/ exhausted--I am running strong and feeling fine.

Gluteal Agony

I have an ass ache. There, I said it. It started post-run on late Tuesday night and then reappeared after last night's workout at the lagoon. In the late 80s and early 90s  (and every summer) women would kill for buns of steel. Well, let me tell you, they're a pain in the ass. 

So now, I need a remedy. This is the first runner's ache I've never had before, the first of may things I don't know how to take care of. Ice? elevate? That seems awkward. Stretch? Okay, how?

Please appreciate my predicament; if you ARE a runner, please help me out. My ass needs you.

Strength in Numbers

Last night at track practice, instead of a grueling interval workout, we had a night of " fun and games". in which the runners present divided into two teams  and competed to see which team could run the most miles in 40 minutes. In my running club, it seems,  there's a natural social gap based on ability-- you chat with and get to know people who run your pace and those whose footfalls fly past you are blurry shirts instead of faces, competitors instead of teammates. This gap is not due to lack of social will but rather natural skill and for me --a proud, solid member of the 8-9 minute mile club, its a thrill to run  alongside and cheer for the 6 minute mile crew. I even learned some of their names. 

The relay forced us to think beyond our own time splits to the larger effort of the team,  and to put one foot in front of the other for the good of all, not just self. At first, it was hard to think of the others; I was too busy pushing myself for myself and proving myself to the track to focus on the team. But after a while, when other, faster runners came wearily to the finish and asked me to run in their place, I felt honored.  "I got it!" I told them each time, and every time I could, I ran two laps just to give them an extra second to breathe.

This two-lap strategy may not have been the most effective as I am far from the fastest runner on the team, but it kept me motivated and made me feel as though I was contributing something to the score. 

This, I can do. I told myself. I am always ready to run for a friend and to support a team. This is what I am BEST at. 

As these thoughts pushed me to the finish over and over again, I helped my relay team to complete 78 miles--one lap at a time. 

I've been wondering for a while now what it means to be strong. Is it the capacity to exert effort and withstand pain, the mental fortitude to push onwards or the emotional resolve to never give in--even when your heart is crushed or your body's burning?

I still don't have an answer or a singular definition for strength, but part of it must be, the will to push on, to let go of the time or the miles or the runners racing by, to run for the team, for the good of the team, as fast as you can.

I/ We  ran strong and did well.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

Start spreading the news...

Holy Crap, I'm running this:

Track my progress here: http://nikeplus.nike.com/nikeplus/?l=training,1291584772.

And wish me luck on my biggest goal to date!

Dear Discipline

I have a bone--or several--to pick with you. First, I  loathe rest days--they make me restless. On the days when I don't run, my body is grateful for the break and I am happy to be able to stretch, relax and be productive in other areas of my life. The problem is, I'm not productive.

Today was not supposed to be a rest day--I had 3 miles on the calendar--but I was so unexpectedly wiped from yesterday's run that I knew I needed to take today off and get back into my rhythm tomorrow. So, today is hard partly because I feel lazy and partly because I am so anxious to run, so excited to train and eager to improve. I like what running does for my body and I love what it does for my mental focus and emotional strength. Without it as part of my day, I feel lost.

 My friend Lynn says that there's no problem in the world that can't be solved with a good 10k run--unless it takes a marathon. I think she's right and I'm starting to believe that running is good for me because it forces me to focus on what's going on in my life and to DEAL with it rather than pushing it aside, waiting for problems to go away. At the same time, while pounding into the pavement, I'm gaining distance and perspective, without actually escaping. So far in my life, running is the best ( and the cheapest) form of running away. Hopefully, on a good day, I come back with a clear head. On a bad day, it's another story, a rest day too.

Part of gaining discipline, it seems, is learning when it's okay to rest and to appreciate stillness. I've never been good at such things; I lack patience altogether, especially with myself. I hate living in the country; I hate quiet; I am a devoted student who still can't attend classes without doodling incessantly; I'm terrible at waiting in line. I have no appreciation for slow development or growth. Thus, running is problematic. Truth be told, I want to be an elite runner. I would love to cross the marathon finish in two hours flat to the resounding fanfare of media and crowds. But I never will. I'm a middle-of-the-pack long distance runner who is trying hard to train for her first two-digit run and race. Yet, I want to be able to do it tomorrow and feel lazy for not accomplishing it today. Worst of all, today, I did NOTHING to gain proximity to my goal and it makes me antsy and irritable.

In short--rest days suck. And I don't know what to do about it.

When it comes to work ethic and discipline, I am a double-sided coin. I am both devoted and driven, committed and conscientious and lazy as hell. Somewhere in college, I learned to be the queen of procrastination and have been fighting it off ever since. Like most people, these extremes of productivity are mediated by desire; the more I want and believe in something, the more I will be fully committed to success. Be it a goal, a relationship or a task, I'm "all in" for as long as it takes--no matter what. But, if I fail to engage in something , or sometimes in the early stages, if I feel resistance or doubt, I want to throw in the towel, throw up my hands and walk away. This strategy is useless-- built on fear and self-preservation. More than I want to succeed at times, I am afraid to fail. But failing to try gets you nowhere.

I've also been burned by this faulty strategy more times than I 'd like to admit. But, the few times when I've had the courage to commit, to not procrastinate, berate or worry, the outcome has been worth it.

So it goes with running. I'm all in. I just need to stay there.

I'll keep training and running because I know my heart is in it AND I can do it. I just hate being tested every time I'm asked to slow down. Surely, when my training is actually hard and my runs are actually long, I'll come to appreciate the lack of pain and frustration in stillness. I'll be so tired yet so accomplished that I will be able to rest.

For now: 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. 

 

~from " Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost

6.14 times 4.2 will do!

Today was my first long run with my partner--my first long run with ANY partner in fact, besides a brief and painful lap with my amazingly athletic cousin Al. It was just over a 10k, but it was hard! Like any new endeavor, this run had its bumps and bruises (mental, but not physical--yet) and proved to be a worthy challenge and the start of something great.

My running partner, Michele and I met at 8:00 am and started out fast (too fast!) but strong. This morning, before blue skies reigned and the world seemed on the brink of a thunderstorm, we mutually decided that we would "just keep running" no matter what and would learn to deal with all the mugginess and precipitation that Mother Nature could throw at us. The rain never came and after a while I stopped thinking about it. I did, however, count each step, marker and mile in hopes that we would finish quicker (we didn't) but in the end, my perseverance came down to keeping us together and remembering that we only have to do today's run twice for a half and four times over for a full marathon. On a gross muggy day with little training, we're already a quarter of the way there!

 It was both strange and comforting to adjust my steps to a parnter, both distracting and motivating to know that she was there. Around the fifth mile--a tough one for me-- I felt stronger, knowing that there was someone beside me who wasn't going to kick up and leave me in the dust. We've been friends for only a week now but she and I , like most of my nearest and dearest "just clicked". Today, while pounding the pavement we discovered that we have almost the pace, same birthday, the same ipod, the same desire to teach and to help others, the same passion for travel and living abroad. We are also vastly different and quirky ( I think she would approve of this description!) she's a brilliant scientist and I nearly failed Chem. Yet we're committed to our goal and to helping each other be, run and train at her personal best.

After 6.14 miles of running (at a solid but too-fast 8:40 pace) and a two mile walk-run cool down, we celebrated our success at Ihop. (Please note: I'd run for pancakes any day! In fact, I'm considering making the shirt:)

Here's to the next 3/4, partner!