After my last disastrous run, I needed to regroup and remind myself why I was doing this before Saturday’s 14 miler. Strangely enough, for fun! So how do I bring fun back? The first step just involved a little preparation and new gadget. I mapped out my route, wrote down directions and created a new play list with hours worth of music (yes, hours-as I would be running for more than two!) I hooked up my new Nike Fit and was already feeling better, more excited. I spent more time reviewing a training book that helped me shift my mindset.
I remembered that there are some great things about training and about races. I love the feeling of working really hard. I like the sense of satisfaction that comes from getting up early and working out longer in one session then most people do in a week. I love the feeling of resting after that. Of knowing that I earned it, and my legs reminding me what I accomplished with every movement the rest of the day (that’s a fun way of saying they are sore!) I love that no one is making me do this. It’s not for a varsity letter, or fame, or glory. It doesn’t make me any money. In fact it costs me quite a lot!
I choose to train and race because it reminds me that I am an athlete. Races celebrate that in everyone who chooses to do them. Pinning on a bib number is a sacramental ritual symbolizing hard work, commitment, and even courage. It connects a person, in an instant, to the thousands of other people who were running alone in the dark for the past 4 or 5 months to race this very day. The people cheering, paper cups filled with Gatorade, and finishers’ medals are just icing on the cake.
With this renewed perspective I ran my 14 miles. I listened to some new music, ate new flavors of cliff shot blocks, discovered new beautiful houses on quiet streets, saw a red-tailed hawk, and listened to the lady in the Nike Fit tell me how far I had come and what pace I had gone. I met B. for the second 7 miles and finished them with relative ease. We celebrated this longest run ever with an amazing home cooked breakfast. Food and warm coffee never tasted so good.
I have yet to figure out how to conjure a Patronus and deal with those running Dementors. I know they will be back. What I remember now is that I want to do this. I have listened to the people who question my sanity, my judgment and even my safety for too long. Over the next few weeks I will work on tuning those comments out, and amplifying the supportive feedback—“it will be awesome,” “look at what you have already done,” and “good for you, I admire what you are doing.” I will spend whatever time it takes changing routes and music to keep it fun and interesting. Most of all, I will remind myself with every run, that I am choosing to do this, I want to do this, and it is worth it every day.
23 February 2010
19 February 2010
FInding your Patronus
I know the Dementors are fictitious characters--a figment of J.K. Rowling's imagination in the Harry Potter books. I believe their effects are real. Dementors are characters said to suck every happy thought from their prey; to deny their victims any sense of hope. To combat them, one must focus on a happy memory and yell, with conviction, "Expecto Patronum." This spell produces a Patronus--a silvery image of an animal or other mythical creature that will fend off the Dementor.
I learned this week, if I am going to get through the marathon, I have to find a way to conjure a Patronus.
I faced the mental Dementors on a route I’ve done 100 times with no trouble. It’s a standard, hilly 5.5 miles. My usual “hour run.” After the first mile and half I turned to the hills and simply shut down. My legs felt great, the temperature was a warmish 30 degrees, and all of a sudden I was walking, coughing, trying to get a deep breath. I regained control of my body and started running again, only to stop moments later. “What’s happening?” I was shaking my head puzzling out why I couldn’t run these hills. It was as if, after all this training, I was afraid of working too hard, of pushing myself. My entire body felt on edge and jittery and I knew it was just mind games.
I tried to focus on the music on my ipod, on happy thoughts, on the marathon, anything good I could think of. I tried to dig deep and find a happy place. I tried dedicating this run to people I loved. I had long inner monologues iterating things like how great I am, just put one foot in front of the other, and you can DO this. You have done it. Just go.
None of it worked. Alternately walking and running I tried to puzzle out this problem. I have faced these mental blocks before. Certain times and routes have done this to me. I have yet to find a way through it. I have yet to know what to do when I face this.
And then the idea of a Patronus occurred to me. I have to find that happy memory, that thing that’s so powerfully good, that I can cling to it when I am facing the mental Dementors. Repeating positive phrases is not enough. At that point, I just don’t believe them anymore. Fear takes over and it’s a difficult thing to shake.
I am not sure how I am going to learn this Patronus charm. I do not know when or how these Dementors will sneak up on me in the course of training runs. I have dozens of theories about why they show up, and what the issues are, but in the moments of fear, those theories will not help. I need to learn the charm. In the coming weeks my training will add a new dimension—a mental dimension. I know now I need to seek the help of those more experienced in dealing with Dementors. I need to find the joyful thought of which I can grab hold, and the confidence to acknowledge the fear and defeat it. I used to think I was pretty good at this mental game, but the marathon has a way of bringing forth the Dementors in all of us. I believe that those who succeed find a way to face them. Expecto Patronum!
I learned this week, if I am going to get through the marathon, I have to find a way to conjure a Patronus.
I faced the mental Dementors on a route I’ve done 100 times with no trouble. It’s a standard, hilly 5.5 miles. My usual “hour run.” After the first mile and half I turned to the hills and simply shut down. My legs felt great, the temperature was a warmish 30 degrees, and all of a sudden I was walking, coughing, trying to get a deep breath. I regained control of my body and started running again, only to stop moments later. “What’s happening?” I was shaking my head puzzling out why I couldn’t run these hills. It was as if, after all this training, I was afraid of working too hard, of pushing myself. My entire body felt on edge and jittery and I knew it was just mind games.
I tried to focus on the music on my ipod, on happy thoughts, on the marathon, anything good I could think of. I tried to dig deep and find a happy place. I tried dedicating this run to people I loved. I had long inner monologues iterating things like how great I am, just put one foot in front of the other, and you can DO this. You have done it. Just go.
None of it worked. Alternately walking and running I tried to puzzle out this problem. I have faced these mental blocks before. Certain times and routes have done this to me. I have yet to find a way through it. I have yet to know what to do when I face this.
And then the idea of a Patronus occurred to me. I have to find that happy memory, that thing that’s so powerfully good, that I can cling to it when I am facing the mental Dementors. Repeating positive phrases is not enough. At that point, I just don’t believe them anymore. Fear takes over and it’s a difficult thing to shake.
I am not sure how I am going to learn this Patronus charm. I do not know when or how these Dementors will sneak up on me in the course of training runs. I have dozens of theories about why they show up, and what the issues are, but in the moments of fear, those theories will not help. I need to learn the charm. In the coming weeks my training will add a new dimension—a mental dimension. I know now I need to seek the help of those more experienced in dealing with Dementors. I need to find the joyful thought of which I can grab hold, and the confidence to acknowledge the fear and defeat it. I used to think I was pretty good at this mental game, but the marathon has a way of bringing forth the Dementors in all of us. I believe that those who succeed find a way to face them. Expecto Patronum!
14 February 2010
Why again? 10 weeks later...
Today, a friend said to me "I just never want to do a marathon. It's not necessary." She is, of course, absolutely right. It isn't necessary. I used to feel the same way she did. What struck me in that moment, was that she was saying things that just a few short years ago, I also said. What changed? How did I get from "I don't even really like running" to where I am now?
It changed on a bike path one day in March two years ago. Prior to that day I started running with an acquaintance who would become one of my closest friends (J.) Together, and without me even realizing it, J. helped me go from a 2-3 mile runner, to a 4-6 mile runner with hills. She taught me new routes and how to listen to my body. We talked and got to know each other one mile at a time. I improved my conditioning, and my running ability. Things like rain, cold temperatures, snow, and laziness stopped being a factor in my decision to run on any given day. I looked forward to seeing J., so I showed up at our designated work out time and ran the route we decided. Because I was meeting a friend, I forgot all of my excuses for not running. During the run, I heard only our social chatter, not the voices and fear in my head that told me I couldn't. I was distracted from all of the mental stuff that keeps me from choosing to run hills, or a longer route, or to run at all.
Then the day in March came that we had one of our "destination" runs. We drove to a bike path and set out on the trail. It was a good day so we just kept going. Running back to her car I was probably saying something self-deprecating about my level of health and fitness. She said "Allison, I am going to wait to tell you how far you ran today." Somehow I misheard the wait as eight and took that for the mileage. I said "eight?" Her response "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT!! Sweet Jesus, yeah, 8. You really coudln't wait until the end?" After laughing about the miscommunication, I almost jumped out of my skin. I was running eight miles? Eight? I could do a half marathon! It was more than half of it and for me, eight miles was the magic number to knowing I could run long distances.
A half marathon, and a couple of Olympic Distance triathlons would follow that March day. These events helped me find new levels of joy and purpose in exercise and contributed to my desire to test my limits, and train. Running with J. carried me there. Every day, every workout we set up and did just because the other person was meeting us. Running with J. was just fun. In the fun, the laughter, and the great conversations, I forgot to fear new distances, new routes and bad weather. I just became a better runner.
Because of J., I found the joy in running. I know if I am running with a friend I can do anything and enjoy it (most of the time anyway!) I am running this marathon for J., for my sister who is running it with me, and for everyone who has ever run with me and made it fun. It’s the joy of all of those runs, the support of friends, and running through excuses that caused this transformation. Running a marathon isn’t necessary; it’s for the love and joy of running.
It changed on a bike path one day in March two years ago. Prior to that day I started running with an acquaintance who would become one of my closest friends (J.) Together, and without me even realizing it, J. helped me go from a 2-3 mile runner, to a 4-6 mile runner with hills. She taught me new routes and how to listen to my body. We talked and got to know each other one mile at a time. I improved my conditioning, and my running ability. Things like rain, cold temperatures, snow, and laziness stopped being a factor in my decision to run on any given day. I looked forward to seeing J., so I showed up at our designated work out time and ran the route we decided. Because I was meeting a friend, I forgot all of my excuses for not running. During the run, I heard only our social chatter, not the voices and fear in my head that told me I couldn't. I was distracted from all of the mental stuff that keeps me from choosing to run hills, or a longer route, or to run at all.
Then the day in March came that we had one of our "destination" runs. We drove to a bike path and set out on the trail. It was a good day so we just kept going. Running back to her car I was probably saying something self-deprecating about my level of health and fitness. She said "Allison, I am going to wait to tell you how far you ran today." Somehow I misheard the wait as eight and took that for the mileage. I said "eight?" Her response "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THAT!! Sweet Jesus, yeah, 8. You really coudln't wait until the end?" After laughing about the miscommunication, I almost jumped out of my skin. I was running eight miles? Eight? I could do a half marathon! It was more than half of it and for me, eight miles was the magic number to knowing I could run long distances.
A half marathon, and a couple of Olympic Distance triathlons would follow that March day. These events helped me find new levels of joy and purpose in exercise and contributed to my desire to test my limits, and train. Running with J. carried me there. Every day, every workout we set up and did just because the other person was meeting us. Running with J. was just fun. In the fun, the laughter, and the great conversations, I forgot to fear new distances, new routes and bad weather. I just became a better runner.
Because of J., I found the joy in running. I know if I am running with a friend I can do anything and enjoy it (most of the time anyway!) I am running this marathon for J., for my sister who is running it with me, and for everyone who has ever run with me and made it fun. It’s the joy of all of those runs, the support of friends, and running through excuses that caused this transformation. Running a marathon isn’t necessary; it’s for the love and joy of running.
08 February 2010
Freaking Out-Long Running and the Mental Game
It was bound to happen. I don’t know if it was a snowstorm derailing my usual Sat. a.m. run or if it was the cold or what. 12 miles totally psyched me out. I was nervous and worried about this run. Dreading it. Not sure if I could finish. Not wanting to try. Why now? I expected this to come at the 14 miler—longer than I have ever run at one time. I did a half marathon. 12 is a mile shy of that. I don’t know how to describe the anxiety I had about this run all week. I was freaked out.
Nothing seemed to help. I plotted my route on G-maps pedometer trying to make myself feel better. This told me I needed to cover at least 3 suburbs to accomplish the distance in a loop. Not helpful. I bought “nutrition” (more on that in a future post) for this run. That only reminded me that I was going to be running long enough to need food. I tried to think about how great the half was. All I could remember was being tired and sore. Shoot. How am I going to do this?
The day came for the run. I had a belt with 3 water bottles, 6 cliff shot blocks and a package of sport beans. This in addition to the 4 layers of clothes, ipod, sunglasses, house keys and written directions on my person. I have packed for vacations with less stuff than this. It took me about a half hour just to put on all the gear. Then I ran out of excuses to put this off. I had to run. I set off down the hill to meet my friend (B) at our work. The first two miles felt great (down hill). I was listening to “fame” and thinking “YES! I AM going to live forever!” I can do it! This carried me all the way to B.’s office. She greeted me with enthusiasm and we set off for the 6.5 miles she would accompany me for. I felt good.
Then we hit the first of what would be at least a dozen hills. To top it off, I don’t know right from left so I wasn’t 100% sure my directions were accurate. I was lost and running up hill. Not a good combination. But B. kept my spirits up with her jokes and motivation, her willingness to walk a couple of the steeper hills and her observation of the spectacular beauty around us. She was right. I was running by mansions and trees simply covered with snow. It was white from the ground to the sky. I wanted my camera. But hills are hills and my rear end and legs were burning.
Until we got to a glorious l-o-n-g down hill around mile 8. How could I be so tired at mile three and feel like I could run forever at mile 9? Downhills are pretty cool that way. But all good things come to an end. B. and I parted ways and I went to finish what should have been the last three on my own.
Repeating a section of the run B. and I just did, I turned into the hilly, mansion part of town and promptly got lost. Again. I had no idea how we found the road I needed to get home. I was lost. Sweaty. Cold. Feeling like everything below my hips was sure to fall off. My feet burned. Street signs were covered with snow. I kept running/walking trying to find my way. I passed the same house a second time and everything looked hopeless. I was going to be running until dark in a neighborhood that was only 2.9 square miles! Then, on the horizon, I saw the street I needed! Which began with a GIANT HILL! At least I was heading uphill towards home.
There were many more hills and many more desperate thoughts of “when will it end?” before I got to my hot shower. I ran 13 miles that day and up more hills than I could count. It was hard. Harder than even my freaking out self could have imagined. But I finished. I suppose that’s where the mental training comes in that everyone talks about. It’s not that you can’t finish, it’s convincing your brain that you can do it. It’s trying to figure out how to keep going. Keep training. Keep running. Keep looking for the giant hill that will lead you home. I am sure I will freak out again. I am sure I will have longer, harder runs. I am also sure that somehow I will find my way home at the end of them.
Nothing seemed to help. I plotted my route on G-maps pedometer trying to make myself feel better. This told me I needed to cover at least 3 suburbs to accomplish the distance in a loop. Not helpful. I bought “nutrition” (more on that in a future post) for this run. That only reminded me that I was going to be running long enough to need food. I tried to think about how great the half was. All I could remember was being tired and sore. Shoot. How am I going to do this?
The day came for the run. I had a belt with 3 water bottles, 6 cliff shot blocks and a package of sport beans. This in addition to the 4 layers of clothes, ipod, sunglasses, house keys and written directions on my person. I have packed for vacations with less stuff than this. It took me about a half hour just to put on all the gear. Then I ran out of excuses to put this off. I had to run. I set off down the hill to meet my friend (B) at our work. The first two miles felt great (down hill). I was listening to “fame” and thinking “YES! I AM going to live forever!” I can do it! This carried me all the way to B.’s office. She greeted me with enthusiasm and we set off for the 6.5 miles she would accompany me for. I felt good.
Then we hit the first of what would be at least a dozen hills. To top it off, I don’t know right from left so I wasn’t 100% sure my directions were accurate. I was lost and running up hill. Not a good combination. But B. kept my spirits up with her jokes and motivation, her willingness to walk a couple of the steeper hills and her observation of the spectacular beauty around us. She was right. I was running by mansions and trees simply covered with snow. It was white from the ground to the sky. I wanted my camera. But hills are hills and my rear end and legs were burning.
Until we got to a glorious l-o-n-g down hill around mile 8. How could I be so tired at mile three and feel like I could run forever at mile 9? Downhills are pretty cool that way. But all good things come to an end. B. and I parted ways and I went to finish what should have been the last three on my own.
Repeating a section of the run B. and I just did, I turned into the hilly, mansion part of town and promptly got lost. Again. I had no idea how we found the road I needed to get home. I was lost. Sweaty. Cold. Feeling like everything below my hips was sure to fall off. My feet burned. Street signs were covered with snow. I kept running/walking trying to find my way. I passed the same house a second time and everything looked hopeless. I was going to be running until dark in a neighborhood that was only 2.9 square miles! Then, on the horizon, I saw the street I needed! Which began with a GIANT HILL! At least I was heading uphill towards home.
There were many more hills and many more desperate thoughts of “when will it end?” before I got to my hot shower. I ran 13 miles that day and up more hills than I could count. It was hard. Harder than even my freaking out self could have imagined. But I finished. I suppose that’s where the mental training comes in that everyone talks about. It’s not that you can’t finish, it’s convincing your brain that you can do it. It’s trying to figure out how to keep going. Keep training. Keep running. Keep looking for the giant hill that will lead you home. I am sure I will freak out again. I am sure I will have longer, harder runs. I am also sure that somehow I will find my way home at the end of them.
06 February 2010
Running out of Fear?
It was a high of 18 today. It was sunny and the roads were finally clear…sort of. After some indoor cross training and track running due to inclement weather I was finally able to get outside for this week’s long run of 8 miles. I scheduled to do the second 4 miles with a friend and we had agreed on a meeting time and place. All I had to do was figure out my route and get there.
Bundled in layers I headed out the door and a gust of wind blew right through my jacket chilling me to the core. For what must be the 100th time in a month I questioned why I was doing this. It was so cold. I am from Wisconsin and it was cold, even for me. I turned the heat on full blast in the car on my way to my starting point and pondered my motivation. Maybe it’s fear. Fear is my motivation for going out on an 18 degree day and running 8 miles through traffic and snow? I am afraid that I can’t run a marathon. I am afraid that I won’t finish. That I won’t make it to the starting line, that I will get sick, get swine flu, that I will quit, that my legs will give out or my training will get derailed. I am afraid of so many things. I am afraid that I will fail in this attempt.
I believe we should act out of hope and not fear. That fear can paralyze us and decisions we make because of hope are what lead us to places we dream of and places we are called to. And yet, fear, today was motivating me. So what does this mean about the things I believed? I must admit, it gave me pause. Then I thought of a t-shirt I once read “Respect Everyone, Fear No One.”
Perhaps a better word for my motivation is respect. After all, I still believe that anyone in the right circumstances will finish. If your life, or the life of the ones you love is on the line, you can jog, walk, crawl, or hobble your way to 26.2. You’ll find a way to finish. I want more than that. I want to feel good at mile 10, 12, 18. I want to know that when I hit a wall, I have faced it before. I want to do this without injury. I know that won’t happen if I don’t train. I respect the distance. Every time I train I make a deposit in the bank of confidence. I face all of those things I am afraid will happen and acknowledge that they could, in fact, happen. When I signed up for something I hadn’t done before, something I wasn’t 100% sure I could do, I took a risk. It’s uncharted territory for me and I might fail. Things could go wrong. With each run I do, and each mile I accomplish, I am one step closer to erasing all of those fears by proving them incorrect. Yes, I might fail, but not today. Today, I am running.
Bundled in layers I headed out the door and a gust of wind blew right through my jacket chilling me to the core. For what must be the 100th time in a month I questioned why I was doing this. It was so cold. I am from Wisconsin and it was cold, even for me. I turned the heat on full blast in the car on my way to my starting point and pondered my motivation. Maybe it’s fear. Fear is my motivation for going out on an 18 degree day and running 8 miles through traffic and snow? I am afraid that I can’t run a marathon. I am afraid that I won’t finish. That I won’t make it to the starting line, that I will get sick, get swine flu, that I will quit, that my legs will give out or my training will get derailed. I am afraid of so many things. I am afraid that I will fail in this attempt.
I believe we should act out of hope and not fear. That fear can paralyze us and decisions we make because of hope are what lead us to places we dream of and places we are called to. And yet, fear, today was motivating me. So what does this mean about the things I believed? I must admit, it gave me pause. Then I thought of a t-shirt I once read “Respect Everyone, Fear No One.”
Perhaps a better word for my motivation is respect. After all, I still believe that anyone in the right circumstances will finish. If your life, or the life of the ones you love is on the line, you can jog, walk, crawl, or hobble your way to 26.2. You’ll find a way to finish. I want more than that. I want to feel good at mile 10, 12, 18. I want to know that when I hit a wall, I have faced it before. I want to do this without injury. I know that won’t happen if I don’t train. I respect the distance. Every time I train I make a deposit in the bank of confidence. I face all of those things I am afraid will happen and acknowledge that they could, in fact, happen. When I signed up for something I hadn’t done before, something I wasn’t 100% sure I could do, I took a risk. It’s uncharted territory for me and I might fail. Things could go wrong. With each run I do, and each mile I accomplish, I am one step closer to erasing all of those fears by proving them incorrect. Yes, I might fail, but not today. Today, I am running.
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