Harry Potter walks into the forbidden forest alone to face Voldemort.
Jesus journeys alone into the desert to face the devil and its temptations.
These two models of faith and self-sacrifice have been on my mind lately. I am not this type of hero. But I take something from their example.
I have read that the bravest warriors are forged in fire. I have not read that they take their buddies, or significant others, or even families with them. These warriors take on the most trying parts of their journeys alone.
The truth is, running a marathon is a lonely journey. In fact, I sometimes think that might be at the heart of why I took it on. A part of me wondered if I could handle training so long and so hard and for so many hours at a time, alone.
As four months and mile after mile of training have passed, I’ve realized how lonely I am. How lonely this is. Few people understand the motivation to do it to begin with. I am blessed by those that do. But no one is out there running 14, 16 or 18 miles with me. I am on my own day in and day out. I am making food choices alone, rest choices alone, and balancing my job and social life alone. I am feeling like my feet will fall off after 13 miles of running with 5 more to go, alone. I am trying to rationalize this crazy thing that no one makes you do, alone.
Yet, I am convinced that this is how it is meant to be. This, in so many ways, is not a choice. I would love to have someone to train with, there wasn’t anyone who could….who wanted to. I wound up running mostly by myself when I went to a running group! And I still knew I needed to do it. Of course, Jesus and Harry Potter knew what they needed to do too and didn’t let the fear of loneliness stop them from going where they were called to be-someplace scary without the safety net of a friend, or even a stuffed animal or blanket. I am certain that pain, suffering and feelings of abandonment were part of their journeys too. I know they are part of mine.
I was reminded, by two hawk sightings on my 18-mile run, that God is still there. In the first mile the hawk was flying so low I could see its eyes and details of its feathers. Maybe God is not as far away as God sometimes seems. But God who seems to appear in the form of a hawk these days, seems to be around, only for brief moments, as if just to say “you are fulfilling your soul’s purpose.”
Fulfilling your soul’s purpose is not a group project. Loneliness and feeling abandoned, left to face the cold, the hills and the miles alone, is a necessary part of the training. The bravest warriors are forged in fire and the fire is a lonely, difficult, painful place to be. But it is necessary. It is part of the journey. I have faith in that much. I am betting so did Harry, and Jesus. No one desires coming face to face with loneliness, pain, and weakness, but if we are to be who we are called to be, we must. After all, no two souls have the same purpose. I know I am supposed to keep training. That’s all I know. So in the fire I remain for now, praying for the patience to wait and the grace to endure it, alone.
25 March 2010
16 March 2010
New Shoes
Have you ever smelled new running shoes?
The smell of running shoes sits up there with baseball gloves, lilac bushes and bread hot out of the oven in my world. I could stand in a shoe store by the tennis shoes and drink in the smell all day long.
Today I bought a new pair of running shoes. In less than four months I have run 300 miles. At that distance, my shoes break down and I find my shins and calves taking the brunt of running’s impact. After Monday morning’s run, the second or third in a row with my legs bothering me, I calculated my mileage. I was shocked to come up with 300, a number that usually takes me 6 months to reach. I shouldn’t be. I know I am running at least twice as much as I used to. Nevertheless, the mileage numbers and the worn down shoes stood as a tangible representation of the work I have put in. Staring at these two things, my calendar with the miles ticked off and the worn down treads on my Mizunos, I was hit with the magnitude of the distance. This time not of the marathon, but of the training. I’ve never run this far, or this frequently for this long in my life.
Like all changes that happen over time, it’s difficult to see the total impact when you are in the midst of it.
My worn running shoes triggered a bit of reflection on the last 300 miles.
When I went for my 8 mile run this weekend, I wondered what good it could possibly be doing—since it was so short! Running 4 miles barely seemed worth changing for. It takes me 3 miles to get warmed up. 6-mile runs seem easy to fit in on a morning before work.
The reality is the 8 miles I ran this weekend were on a retreat. I was working. I got up at 5:45 a.m. to fit them in, and in a strange place with unfamiliar routes. Pre-marathon, I took weekends I was working or traveling off of working out completely. I certainly didn’t get up before 6 a.m. to work out. Four runs a week or two days of running in a row seemed like too much. I do that regularly now and twice as far. Prior to these four months a 9-mile run on a Saturday would wear me out for the day. When I ran 16, I didn’t do much, but I was able to do a couple of errands and didn’t need a nap. I’ve learned more about nutrition, rest, hydration, and focus than I ever have in my life. I have gone to bed earlier, gotten up earlier, and shelved dozens of the excuses I used to have for not running.
Today I took my new shoes out for a four-mile run. It was 60 degrees and sunny. I saw more dogs and strollers, cyclists, and other runners in that short run than I have seen out over the past 4 months combined. I felt like I was running on marshmallows in the new shoes. It felt like spring.
When I put those old shoes away, with them I put away three hundred hard miles of training. 300 miles of growth and transformation. 300 miles of winter running. With the comfort and support of the new shoes came renewed excitement. These shoes will carry me through the marathon and beyond. I am excited to see where the next 300 miles will take me; one mile at a time.
The smell of running shoes sits up there with baseball gloves, lilac bushes and bread hot out of the oven in my world. I could stand in a shoe store by the tennis shoes and drink in the smell all day long.
Today I bought a new pair of running shoes. In less than four months I have run 300 miles. At that distance, my shoes break down and I find my shins and calves taking the brunt of running’s impact. After Monday morning’s run, the second or third in a row with my legs bothering me, I calculated my mileage. I was shocked to come up with 300, a number that usually takes me 6 months to reach. I shouldn’t be. I know I am running at least twice as much as I used to. Nevertheless, the mileage numbers and the worn down shoes stood as a tangible representation of the work I have put in. Staring at these two things, my calendar with the miles ticked off and the worn down treads on my Mizunos, I was hit with the magnitude of the distance. This time not of the marathon, but of the training. I’ve never run this far, or this frequently for this long in my life.
Like all changes that happen over time, it’s difficult to see the total impact when you are in the midst of it.
My worn running shoes triggered a bit of reflection on the last 300 miles.
When I went for my 8 mile run this weekend, I wondered what good it could possibly be doing—since it was so short! Running 4 miles barely seemed worth changing for. It takes me 3 miles to get warmed up. 6-mile runs seem easy to fit in on a morning before work.
The reality is the 8 miles I ran this weekend were on a retreat. I was working. I got up at 5:45 a.m. to fit them in, and in a strange place with unfamiliar routes. Pre-marathon, I took weekends I was working or traveling off of working out completely. I certainly didn’t get up before 6 a.m. to work out. Four runs a week or two days of running in a row seemed like too much. I do that regularly now and twice as far. Prior to these four months a 9-mile run on a Saturday would wear me out for the day. When I ran 16, I didn’t do much, but I was able to do a couple of errands and didn’t need a nap. I’ve learned more about nutrition, rest, hydration, and focus than I ever have in my life. I have gone to bed earlier, gotten up earlier, and shelved dozens of the excuses I used to have for not running.
Today I took my new shoes out for a four-mile run. It was 60 degrees and sunny. I saw more dogs and strollers, cyclists, and other runners in that short run than I have seen out over the past 4 months combined. I felt like I was running on marshmallows in the new shoes. It felt like spring.
When I put those old shoes away, with them I put away three hundred hard miles of training. 300 miles of growth and transformation. 300 miles of winter running. With the comfort and support of the new shoes came renewed excitement. These shoes will carry me through the marathon and beyond. I am excited to see where the next 300 miles will take me; one mile at a time.
14 March 2010
It's not just about the marathon...
Have you ever heard of anyone who just woke up one day, decided to sign up for a marathon and run it that same day? I haven’t. I am sure there are a few souls who have done it, but the story is not a common one. People train for marathons. They train for different amounts of time, at different speeds and with different levels of success. But people train for marathons and most of them train for many months.
If you are going to sign up for one of these things it really better not be because you only want to run 26.2 miles in a row. A standard program includes more than 300 miles of running before the final 26.2. The marathon race and training are two separate things. One is filled with people running, cheering, volunteering. The other you do on your own. One lasts 5+ hours, the other lasts 5 months.
So it’s not just about the marathon, it’s about the training and what training will do for you. Getting your body in shape is just the beginning.
I’ve realized in the last few weeks that training is a trial for the soul. It wears you down in every way something can. As much great support as I have had through this, I have had twice as many people put some aspect of this down. People who call me crazy, question the value of it, point out the dangers of running out in the cold, say “it’s bad for you,” etc. After awhile, it’s hard not to believe that stuff.
I’ve run out of motivation over and over again. I have been dejected by the snow, slow on hills, lost, tired, and sore. I’ve gotten sick of running, and just plain sick and had to find a way to put my shoes back on and go. I have had scheduling conflicts and not enough sleep.
I’ve listened to my brain tell me how tired I am, how much my feet hurt and how I can’t handle one more hill. I have seen my grocery bill increase, my need for sleep increase, and my free time decrease.
But I keep training. We human beings are so much tougher than we can possibly imagine. For so much of our lives we skate on the surface of what’s comfortable, fun and easy. But that’s not where we really learn. That’s not where we are transformed. We are changed when we dig down deeper than the pain, the boredom, and the exhaustion and find the strength to keep going. When we encounter a wall, and find a way to get past it, we see the other walls of fear and negativity crumble with our new found confidence.
It takes a lot of time and patience, both on individual runs and over course of months. There are going to be days and weeks filled with doubt. And yet, if we can just be patient, just keep running, we might find ourselves not only accomplishing something we never dreamed we could, but having been transformed by the journey. By the perseverance and ability to continue running through pain, not away from it. We might find our perspective on life changes a bit when we’ve run 16 miles or wake up before sunrise to fit in a run. We might find ourselves growing not just as runners, but as people.
If you are going to sign up for one of these things it really better not be because you only want to run 26.2 miles in a row. A standard program includes more than 300 miles of running before the final 26.2. The marathon race and training are two separate things. One is filled with people running, cheering, volunteering. The other you do on your own. One lasts 5+ hours, the other lasts 5 months.
So it’s not just about the marathon, it’s about the training and what training will do for you. Getting your body in shape is just the beginning.
I’ve realized in the last few weeks that training is a trial for the soul. It wears you down in every way something can. As much great support as I have had through this, I have had twice as many people put some aspect of this down. People who call me crazy, question the value of it, point out the dangers of running out in the cold, say “it’s bad for you,” etc. After awhile, it’s hard not to believe that stuff.
I’ve run out of motivation over and over again. I have been dejected by the snow, slow on hills, lost, tired, and sore. I’ve gotten sick of running, and just plain sick and had to find a way to put my shoes back on and go. I have had scheduling conflicts and not enough sleep.
I’ve listened to my brain tell me how tired I am, how much my feet hurt and how I can’t handle one more hill. I have seen my grocery bill increase, my need for sleep increase, and my free time decrease.
But I keep training. We human beings are so much tougher than we can possibly imagine. For so much of our lives we skate on the surface of what’s comfortable, fun and easy. But that’s not where we really learn. That’s not where we are transformed. We are changed when we dig down deeper than the pain, the boredom, and the exhaustion and find the strength to keep going. When we encounter a wall, and find a way to get past it, we see the other walls of fear and negativity crumble with our new found confidence.
It takes a lot of time and patience, both on individual runs and over course of months. There are going to be days and weeks filled with doubt. And yet, if we can just be patient, just keep running, we might find ourselves not only accomplishing something we never dreamed we could, but having been transformed by the journey. By the perseverance and ability to continue running through pain, not away from it. We might find our perspective on life changes a bit when we’ve run 16 miles or wake up before sunrise to fit in a run. We might find ourselves growing not just as runners, but as people.
03 March 2010
the hawks were watching...
One of my favorite things to do while running is look for wildlife. In an urban residential setting I am somewhat limited to deer, various birds and the occasional groundhog. Nevertheless there are some woodsy parks and a river bikeway that provide their share of creatures. In order to see them, though, you have to be looking.
I usually set out on my long runs aiming to see interesting birds. While I regularly see sparrows, robins, cardinals, crows and grackles, there are just enough great blue herons, woodpeckers, and hawks and small songbirds to keep things interesting. This time of year is perfect for spotting new ones. The trees are bare and the weather is just starting to warm up, so you can see them flying through the branches to build their spring nests.
Lately, the red tailed hawk has been soaring about on my runs. They are certainly large and majestic, and at the same time, easy to miss. They fly up to 100 feet above the ground, floating on thermals and searching for prey. Often, they perch near the tops of trees and telephone poles, their gaze fixated on the ground below.
Hawks have always been just a little off putting to me. Maybe it’s the yellow or red eyes and hooked bill. Maybe it’s their size and wingspan. They are majestic, certainly, but a little threatening too. Yet, I love to spot a hawk while running. I have to stop and watch them--stare back at them staring at me, or see them soar in circles for a bit--before running off more focused and alert than I was before.
After seeing the red-tailed hawk on my last two long runs, and a few other times during the week I decided to find out if there was any spiritual symbolism to this creature. It turns out the hawk, in particular the red-tailed variety, is associated with messengers, protectors and visionaries. Soaring high above the earth and able to spot a mouse from 100 feet away, hawks have a sense of the big picture and remind us to be more alert to our surroundings. They also symbolize an awakening to your souls purpose, and freeing yourself from anything keeping you from achieving that purpose. They remind us to be open to hope and new ideas. The hawk also is a symbol of God’s care and protection, and if we listen to its message, we, too will be protected.
The symbolism of the hawk came in a timely way. As I struggle through these difficult weeks of training it has helped to be reminded that this will be worth it—that these walls I have hit are part of the journey. That finding my way through them, around them, and over them is part of the ultimate joy and achievement. There is a bigger picture here. The hawk can see it. And now, when I see the hawk, I am reminded to have faith that this run is a part of it, however difficult it might be that day.
We all need reminders to be more alert to our surroundings, to see things from a new angle and to believe in ourselves, and our dreams and our goals. These reminders can come in a multitude of ways. For me it’s the red-tailed hawk. For another, it might be something else. The message is far more important than the messenger—but to find it, you have to be looking.
I usually set out on my long runs aiming to see interesting birds. While I regularly see sparrows, robins, cardinals, crows and grackles, there are just enough great blue herons, woodpeckers, and hawks and small songbirds to keep things interesting. This time of year is perfect for spotting new ones. The trees are bare and the weather is just starting to warm up, so you can see them flying through the branches to build their spring nests.
Lately, the red tailed hawk has been soaring about on my runs. They are certainly large and majestic, and at the same time, easy to miss. They fly up to 100 feet above the ground, floating on thermals and searching for prey. Often, they perch near the tops of trees and telephone poles, their gaze fixated on the ground below.
Hawks have always been just a little off putting to me. Maybe it’s the yellow or red eyes and hooked bill. Maybe it’s their size and wingspan. They are majestic, certainly, but a little threatening too. Yet, I love to spot a hawk while running. I have to stop and watch them--stare back at them staring at me, or see them soar in circles for a bit--before running off more focused and alert than I was before.
After seeing the red-tailed hawk on my last two long runs, and a few other times during the week I decided to find out if there was any spiritual symbolism to this creature. It turns out the hawk, in particular the red-tailed variety, is associated with messengers, protectors and visionaries. Soaring high above the earth and able to spot a mouse from 100 feet away, hawks have a sense of the big picture and remind us to be more alert to our surroundings. They also symbolize an awakening to your souls purpose, and freeing yourself from anything keeping you from achieving that purpose. They remind us to be open to hope and new ideas. The hawk also is a symbol of God’s care and protection, and if we listen to its message, we, too will be protected.
The symbolism of the hawk came in a timely way. As I struggle through these difficult weeks of training it has helped to be reminded that this will be worth it—that these walls I have hit are part of the journey. That finding my way through them, around them, and over them is part of the ultimate joy and achievement. There is a bigger picture here. The hawk can see it. And now, when I see the hawk, I am reminded to have faith that this run is a part of it, however difficult it might be that day.
We all need reminders to be more alert to our surroundings, to see things from a new angle and to believe in ourselves, and our dreams and our goals. These reminders can come in a multitude of ways. For me it’s the red-tailed hawk. For another, it might be something else. The message is far more important than the messenger—but to find it, you have to be looking.
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