100

a milestone!

and a rather cool one at that, one that five months ago I never thought would ever, ever happen.
to many of you this could fall under the heading No Big Deal, or I Hit That So Long Ago I Can't Even Remember, but for me, this is cool:
I have now run over 100 miles.

woo hoo!

I'm not counting any running in grade school, high school or college, or even my pitiful attempts a couple years ago. this is just in my new life phase as One Who Runs.

again, I'm happy to celebrate a little milestone because if I don't do it, no one else will, and an Occasion will slip past unacknowledged, a sad and lamentable thing. life is busy, life is often over-stuffed with activities, due dates, and paperwork. perhaps its because of this that recognizing small moments, little achievements, silly anniversaries and events is such a gift and treat.
you already know I love to give myself awards and rewards, and the huge magnet board in my hallway is plastered with bib numbers, stickers, medals, ribbons, and pictures of all of us in our sporting activities: reminders of our capabilities fuel future activities.
next time I moan about my poor, tired quads not being up for running, I can remind myself that I have a hundred miles on my shoes already, that there's simply not an acceptable excuse.

now all of that being said, I have to admit that I'm sitting here this morning trying to decide whether or not I'm going to go run today. I ran two days ago, and power camp's intervals have been a bit tougher than usual this week. this morning's class was a spin-out, however, and I don't have class again until tomorrow afternoon . . .
I could rest up.
or I could whittle away at the next 100.

yes, no, this, that . . . I suppose I'd better go look at the magnet board.
if you all were to place bets on what I'll do, I wonder what the odds would be . . .

eight days

actually, it's seven.
I have seven days to make a decision about what will happen on the eighth.
well, really, it's only five, because if I'm going to do it correctly, I need to register ahead of time.

"it" is the winter running series that begins a week from tomorrow with a flat 5k out by the great salt lake. I know I can do that. but two weeks later is the 10k, and two weeks after that is the 15k which is so far from where I am as to be in a different hemisphere. so do I really need to fork over forty bucks to get a t-shirt and permission to try to kill myself?

I ran today and during the first quarter mile I thought I was a fool to even be attempting a run. my heartrate had jumped to my zone 5 number (on a slight descent, no less) and it hurt to breathe and my legs were complaining and blah blah blah . . .
and then it got better.
I actually hit a place today where everything felt pretty darn good, though I can't say I felt that elusive "runner's high" I've heard rumors about. I'm happy with pretty darn good, and I'm overwhelmingly grateful when that feeling sticks around for more than a few blocks.

but am I ready to go join a bunch of people who really run?
I don't know.
I'm sure there will be others like me there, beginners, wannabes, slow-pokes. people doing it to keep themselves on track, people pushing to achieve goals.
I'm such a loner, though, doing my own thing: I really don't need a piece of paper, a bib number, or anything commemorating my first official 5k. I can take my own word for having done that.
the bottom line, I think, is that I'm not yet certain that I care about making it much further than that. I don't see me ever doing a marathon; I don't even feel a pull to do a half-marathon. or a 15k. I might be giddy at the ability to call myself a runner, but I'm not really a runner runner.

then again, it's terribly difficult to predict the future.

I can't even predict what I'll be doing next wednesday as the deadline to sign up for this running series sticks its heels in . . .

and then . . .

not every day is a good day.

this is reality.

I can pretend that I feel great every day, conquer mountains before each sunset, exude strength and stability and power with each new sunrise.

but at times days sneak in ~ like today ~ that could be placed on the far left of a gradually rising bell curve of days.

it began with too little sleep and a pre-dawn alarm. it proceeded through one of those power camp classes that make my legs go around like a little gerbil for much too long. it followed me down to the weight room where 12 pounds felt like 20 and my legs argued with me about why they should even hold me up, let alone hold me up and down while squatting and lunging. I finally sat on a big ball, legs splayed, and sighed.

at home I played mom and refrained from making (thus drinking) coffee and made three lunches and two breakfasts (I have one semi-independent teenager who can pour her own cereal, thank the Lord). I chewed through a dried out cereal bar, and drank a glass of green smoothie, shooshed my adolescents out the door and retired to the couch.

after a bit of quiet time on the couch, I ~ because I am a runner ~ went for a run.

and this is when it became clear that I was just not having a great day.

my ankle ached. then my left arch. then my gut. then my left glute, then my diaphragm, then my collarbone. then my neck.

then I felt good for about a quarter of a mile . . . and then I had to stop and walk.

it was one of the worst runs I've ever had and I finally had to accept that it just wasn't a great day.

perhaps I'm not really a runner at all.

not every day gets to be a great day. we ebb and flow, and can be grateful if the bulk of our days sit somewhere in the apex of that bell curve. there are great days when we feel when we can conquer it all, and good days when we know we can handle whatever comes our way.

and occasionally, there are days like mine today when we should probably just be glad we're moving at all.

tomorrow I hope for a day a little to the right of the apex. but I'll take what comes, because I know that it's all temporary, that my performance will wax and wane, and that what really matters is much, much deeper than what appears on the surface, and more eternal than a 35 minute athletic display.

perhaps I am still a runner.

and perhaps, more importantly, it ultimately doesn't matter.

on a day like today

holly sent me an email yesterday with a link to active.com, where I could register for the 33rd annual 30 k running series here in slc.
I snickered, rolled my eyes, grimaced, groaned . . . and eventually pulled up the site to see what it was all about.
running, obviously, you're thinking.
well, yes, but just how intense would this running be? is my question, while I continue holding the position that I'm not doing this, nuh-uh.
the answer is three events, beginning late january and ending late february, commencing with a 5 k, progressing to a 10 k, and ending with a 15 k.

okay, I'd like to be able to do this.
I think.

holly holds a goal of running the boston marathon; I don't. however, you know how I feel about being able to include "runner" in my understanding of myself.
and then I have thoughts along this line: why do I need to join an organized event like this ~ why can't I just set myself the goal and do it on my own?
which I could do; so could holly.
however, there's something about having an inescapable time/date/place that you've committed to that keeps you from changing your mind/backing out/conveniently forgetting your goal. a little bit of enforced commitment-keeping.

I haven't committed yet. haven't pushed that button, am still contemplating.
the sun has broken through the clouds, breaking them apart and pushing them to the peripheral aspects of the great blue sky above me. it's bitterly cold out, but the snow sparkles mischievously and is beginning to melt in small spots atop the salt-streaked asphalt. I've watched a handful of runners stride past, white fogs of breath expelled and dispersed within nanoseconds. the day is so shiny and bright it seems to hold a promise for the future, a commitment of its own to health and prosperity, stability and certainty.
the mountains rise tall and resolute, the sun behaves as it always does, constant and faithful though we cannot always tell it is there. today it rules the sky in glory and brings hope to those of us who've been huddling under the gray cloak that has hidden the sun from us for what seems so long.

another runner comes down the street, her big black dog bounding by her side, nose quivering and flanks shining. she places her feet firmly on the road, her stride confident and her cheeks red beneath her tasselled hat. I'm certain she could run a 5 k. or a 10 k. maybe even a 15 k.

on a day like today, most anything seems possible.

the greatest gift

what would we be without the amazing gift we have to reinvent ourselves?

a few different answers come to mind: stagnant, dull, tedious.

or, perhaps, wise, patient, deep.

if we are to burrow deeply within ourselves and focus upon one aspect, one persona, one set of likes and dislikes, are we susceptible to becoming linear and boring, or are we then able to test the depths of our reality and find a greater wisdom than most know?

I like to think we can deepen and enrich ourselves by examining our inner being while experimenting with different ways of interfacing with the outer world, other beings, nature itself.

and this is really all about the fact that it snowed yesterday, allowing me an exhilarating new experience and a joyful recognition of something different within and without of myself.

see, I was going to ride my bike. I'd heard the weather would be dry and in the upper forties, which is perfect december riding weather. I even planned a ride, and was waiting for john to arrive so that we could take off up the canyon.

when my phone rang and it was john calling from home, I was puzzled. and then when he asked what I was going to do, go to the gym, or just take the day off, I was baffled.

"well, it's been raining over here all day, just a little, but it's definitely coming down."

"it's gray all around here, but it's not raining," I replied firmly, as I pulled back the curtain and took a look at my patio. which had--uh oh--little wet spots all over it.

"oh," I said quietly. "oh, I guess, maybe, it is raining."

nuts.

off went the biking clothes, and on came the running clothes.

this is why I took up running, so I could get outside and exercise when biking wasn't reasonable.

when I stepped out the door, I could see the raindrops. they were spaced quite far apart, and they had that fluffy texture to them that some people call snow.

yep.

so I took off around the corner and down the street, and went for a run.

and this is where reinvention (is that even a word? do we have to reinvent? isn't invention in and of itself the discovery of something new?) comes in to play: for years I have wanted to be a runner. I love the flexibility of it, the portability. you can travel just about anywhere and still go for a run, whereas it's just not that easy to go for a bike ride when you're away from home. I love the fact that it takes less time for a similar impact than biking. and I just plain old want to be one of those people who can run.

and here it is: I am a runner.

three months ago I wasn't, and now I am.

I am a runner! I shouted it yesterday, I threw my arms in the air and woo-hoo-ed. I watched the lawns slowly begin to turn white as I ran, I shook the wet snow from my hat and arms. I sang along to the music on my ipod, I sweated and shivered and kept placing one foot in front of the other.

I made first tracks.

the sidewalks began to fill in, and by my last mile I was listening to my shoes crunch the fresh snow, leaving my tracks down the middle of the sidewalk.

there was no one else out running in my little section of the world, and my footprints claimed the joy and glory of running in the snow for me alone.

I am always deeply me. I am grounded and committed, stable and full of gratitude.

but five years ago I wasn't a cyclist.

five months ago I wasn't a runner.

and who knows what I'll be able to add to my CV five months from now, five years from now.

I fell into cycling, never having had the "I want to be a cyclist" desire. I worked my way into running, however, after years of thinking "I want to be a runner." obviously both ways are effective, though the latter tends to be more empowering.

my mother is a pianist, extremely talented and capable of creating beauty which fills the air. a few years ago, she began painting, and now is creating beauty which sends a silent, visual message that is no less stunning. she's always been an artist, has been able to call herself that, but now she is a painter as well, and I think of her joy in being able to add that to her understanding and description of who she is.

I don't know what's next for me.

perhaps I'll fall into it, perhaps something will tuck itself under my skin and I'll begin to work my way toward incorporating it into my life. regardless of the method, I know I'll continue to be awed and grateful for that great gift of being able to become something slightly different than I once was.

missing ruby

I drove a stretch of road yesterday that I have ridden many times, and I felt a physical aching, a missing of my bike. my ruby. (she's a Specialized Ruby Expert, and although I do tend to call her a "her," I try to limit my anthropomorphizing to just that.)
and today a blizzard is coating our world in a thick, white, slippery blanket that will probably keep me off her for the next little while, so I am sure to experience another pang or two during the coming weeks.
it's okay. it's part of the program.
because, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once stated,

For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.


I can't have it all. I need to give, I need to rest, I need to expand my horizons and incorporate new experiences into my life. like a field lying fallow, we become more vital and vibrant by leaving the known and loved and exposing ourselves to challenges, that which is unfamiliar, and at times, repose.
snow is good for this.
tonight we have been warned to stay off the roads and cocoon ourselves in the safety of our own homes. the storm may dump half a dozen inches or more on my little house in the city, and maybe twice that on houses on the hill. when we wake tomorrow it may be to a soft, gentle, slow world.
I won't be able to take ruby out for a spin, and my morning workout has already been cancelled in anticipation of untravel-able roads. instead, I'll gain the beautifully peaceful feeling of being in my warm, safe home, where all is just as it should be.

and then maybe I'll go for a run.

free

back to running.
it's been a week, and I promised myself I wouldn't let more than a week go by without running so that I wouldn't have to endure those muscular aches again.
so . . . I had to run this morning.
in my new shoes.

I went shoe shopping last week: I hauled myself up onto the treadmill at Salt Lake Running Company and modeled my running (jogging) style so that I could be fit in appropriate shoes. I was offered a selection to try, though none were as cute as I would've liked them to be. I tried on one pair, then another, and then I tried on a really ugly pair of black shoes with a turquoise swoosh. geez they were ugly.
but they felt good.
really good.
"do these come in another color? maybe with green on them?"
"let me see . . . well, here's a gray and white pair with a little light blue . . . "
sigh. (me)

I believe it was mick jagger who sang you can't always get what you want . . .
but I got what I needed.
and I ran (jogged) a whopping two miles in them today: a new record! what I ended up purchasing was a pair of Nike "Free" running shoes. this is what Nike has to say about them:

" . . . the Nike Free Run+. Its flexible design closely mimics the natural movement of your foot. And unlike a lot of regular running shoes, its flexibility provides a world of comfort on the run or while walking around.

Other features:

-More flex grooves promote an even more natural, barefoot-like stride.

-Increased support under the arch for improved stability.

-More cushioning for an exceptional ride.

-A completely new midsole design for a better fit.

-A precisely engineered upper for targeted support.

-Asymmetrical lacing for added comfort."

asymmetrical lacing for added comfort?? who came up with that?? this is an example of why I changed my major from advertising: it's all a bunch of hooey. asymmetrical lacing for added comfort. geez.

anyway, they felt great, and I ran (jogged) further than ever before. maybe nike will put me in a commercial . . . actually, I think I'll just keep hoping for a cuter pair, maybe with some green on them somewhere.

the marathoner

I was in a marathon this morning!
I'm about ready to go buy myself one of those 26.2 stickers for the back of my car!
what a great time it was: the enthusiasm from the support teams at the water breaks, the sheriffs on their motorcycles, the pace car right behind the race leader, and then toward the end, as the route wound through wasatch drive, all of the residents who put up lawn chairs and waited to watch us all pass by.
the energy was just powerful, and swirled around the entire event.
I even passed the race leaders! twice! both times a blond in bright yellow running shoes was in front, followed fairly closely by a dark skinned man who must be a kenyan. aren't most of the best marathoners from kenya? or is that just one more urban myth?

regardless, I'm sure you've figured out by now that during this intensely magical marathon of mine this morning, my feet never touched the ground. they stayed firmly attached to my pedals, as I wove in and out among the astoundingly diverse collection of runners who were on their way to tucking another little marathon under their collective belt.

it all began in the dark, when I first caught sight of a truck parked at the mouth of emigration, its flashers flashing, its owner standing alongside a portable table and various other paraphernalia I didn't have time or the ability to puzzle out. the scene was familiar, though, as a handful of other times I have seen support stations posted along the emigration canyon road for running races.
hmm, my little brain went.
nothing else entered the big picture until a bit past ruth's, when I saw a half dozen cars and some bodies and tables set up with a hundred or so paper cups filled with liquid. I said good morning to them, and almost immediately put clue #1 together with clue #2 and deduced it was a running race day.
ooh, my brain went. it's pioneer day, and this is the annual deseret news marathon . . . sharp as a tack, am I, at 5:50 am.

the 40th annual deseret news marathon took place this morning, and I was in the thick of it. what fun! I got to weave in and out and amongst some of the best runners in utah as well as a bunch of slightly obsessed people quite similar to myself. what more could I ask? I had to finally stop saying hello and good morning, as that in and of itself took more energy than I had to spare.
I first saw runners coming toward me a mile or so from the top of emigration, when they were about 8.5 miles into their race. the front runner was being led by 2 motorcycles and a pace car with (I'm sure) dignitaries in it, the woman in the front seat reading a book. (she must really be into marathons.) the next 3 runners were close behind, and then there was a gap of at least a half mile. I saw the first female runner near the top of the summit, and I silently cheered her on.
I wanted to shout way to go! you all are so awesome! to everyone along the entire route, but I haven't figured a way to do that without feeling that I will be interpreted as somewhat condescending or just plain crazy or possibly, histrionic. so I just thought it, and tried to give out waves of positive energy to all I passed.
running has its strategies, just like all racing, and I just now searched the news to see who won. it was not the man who was far in front both times I saw them, nor did the front-running woman win. so during the last 8 miles, it's clear that the leaders tired and some runners from a bit further back powered on to take over those leads. (and yes, it was a kenyan who won the men's race.)

what I learned this morning:

• I like being around the energy of athletes exercising their skills and strengths.
• it's even more fun when I'm not part of the competition.
• some runners take pictures while they're running marathons.
• chalk messages on the asphalt cheering on specific runners can be done quite artfully and colorfully.
• skorts are reasonably popular among running women.
• runners are more jovial running downhill than uphill.
• cyclists moving toward runners get there much more quickly than if those runners were on bikes.
• I'm glad I'm a cyclist, not a runner. but hey, I already knew that.

happy pioneer day, utah!