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.
23 February 2010
A Mental Reset
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.
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.
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.
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