Every morning in Africa

There is a folk tale among runners that goes something like this.  

Every morning in Africa, a lion awakes.  It knows it must outrun the slowest gazelle or it will starve.  

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle awakes.  It knows it must outrun the fastest lion, or it will die.  

It doesn't matter whether you are the lion or the gazelle, but when the sun comes up, you had better be up and running.  

It is a lovely story, and very inspiring. Some days, you feel like a lion: strong, in control, awe-inspiring, driven. Some days you feel like the gazelle:  sleek, fast, beautiful.   But it ignores the third possibility, which I considered yesterday.   Some days, you are neither the fast lion or the speedy gazelle.  Some days, you are the limping gazelle, the second slowest in the pack, barely moving fast enough to stay alive. Or maybe the overweight gazelle just trying to keep up.  Or maybe the second fastest lion, who only gets leftovers. You don't feel good, you don't look good, and you definitely don't want to be running around the savannah. There is nothing graceful or powerful about your movements.  On these days, you are just lucky to be moving, because it means you are still alive.

 If we are honest, we all have days like this. We feel tired, sore, overwhelmed, out of shape, stressed out, inadequate, intimidated, weak, or just plain wimpy. Fortunately, not every day is like this.  And if you have the strength to get out the door and go for a run even on the worst of days, it means you are already winning that one battle and are probably stronger than you think. 

So be grateful, second slowest gazelle, that you are running at all.  You may not win any races, but you will get better and you will stay a step ahead of the lion.  Hang in there.  Happy running. 

Research

This year I am teaching high school English, along with coaching the distance runners on the track team. I think my students must believe I just enjoy pain.  We just got done writing research papers in one class, and I admit to finding the whole process kind of exciting. When my students seem overwhelmed at the outset,  I assure them that if they put in the time and work step by step, they will be able to complete the assignment and produce quality work.   

To complete any research project, you start with a question, look for as much information as you can find about the subject, then spend time reading, writing, and revising, followed by more reading, writing, and revising. Finally you put it all together to produce a final product that answers the original question.  At times, the process seems to go on forever.  As one of my college professors said, "A paper is never really finished, it is just due."  In the end, sometimes the answer is predictable; sometimes it is not. But one still ends with the satisfaction of discovering something new and producing something you didn't know you could before.

As I was running today, I figured that running and research papers aren't altogether different, and maybe that is why I enjoy both. With a little apprehension, you start with the question: can I run this distance in this time? And then you do the research of training.  It is hard and frustrating at times, but you learn a lot along the way. Like the revising process of writing, in distance running you run, recover, tweak your training, then run, recover, and adjust again. Finally, the final product of a race comes due.  It answers the question you started with, and you discover that all the hard work was worth it as you proved you could do unexpected things.  The satisfaction of your finished product is immense, and you learned something about yourself in the process.  You understand what you are capable of and what your limits are better than you did before. 

 But then you realize that the research is never really done; it's just a work in progress.  You have new questions to answer.  So, as daunting as it may seem at the outset, you begin the learning cycle again for the next race.   In the end, it is always worth it. Trust me.  

Happy research. 

Eyes wide open

When I left the house for my run today, it was 9 degrees fahrenheit, with a windchill that put the "feels like" temp at minus 1.  Yes, I was that crazy. Not a lot of fast running or deep thinking occurs at minus 1.  However, I happened upon three rhymes that kept bouncing around in my noggin as I paced through the town.  I will share them, and the lessons that accompany them, in hopes that they will keep you company some cold morning. 

1: Mile one, hard part done.  I talked myself into going out to the door by promising myself an easy four miler.  After I finished that, I figured I may as well go one more since I was awake and warm(ish) anyway.  It really is the starting that is the hardest part.  Everything gets easier as you go but you gotta get out the door.

2: Eyeballs freeze at nine degrees.  I learned this on accident.  Seeing how my eyes were the only part of my body not covered in double layers, they were already more exposed.  But being constantly pooled in a thin puddle of tears is just asking for trouble.  After a while one finds that the eyes become glued completely closed as eye lashes crystallize. This makes a minor hazard for running, as vision is typically preferential to running blind, but the ice does quickly melt with reintroduction of heat.  

3: After five, the world's alive.  Although it sometimes seems like I am the only one who is awake when the world is dark and cold, I am surprised to see just how many good people were up and about. I even passed one other runner with reflective tape and head lamp glowing; it warmed my heart.  But I also tip my hat to all those who start early and brave all conditions to satisfy whatever demands--job, family, life--are placed on them.  It is good to know that the world is full of hard working people who are up and about when it seems more reasonable to be sound asleep.  And even though I can't really see them, I feel on connected to all these morning people with their little glowing lights that cut through the he dark.  

So tomorrow, when you are out before (or after) the crack of dawn, pick a rhyme to sing to yourself while you run. Hopefully it will help you to stay motivated, or not to be so lonely, or maybe just to smile.  Just remember to keep those eyes open so they don't freeze shut.  

Be your best self

One of the best things about running is that you can see improvement in yourself without comparing yourself to others. Even if you are not winning races, you can feel success just by improving your own best times.  In fact, you are I likely to meet more problems than success when you start comparing yourself to others.  

Let me explain.  

I had a coach in college who told me I needed to lose weight.  There I was, in the best shape of my life,  and I was told I needed to get leaner to run really fast.  All-Americans, of which he had coached a lot, were very lean and strong and I needed to look more like them.  I really trusted the coach, knew he knew about coaching distance runners, and I wanted to be faster, so I tried to limit my calorie intake for a time.  Instead of getting faster, I just found that I was too tired to run well.  Go figure.  

At this point I decided that if I was fat, I would just have to be the fastest fat kid out there.  I could not worry about becoming someone else, even if that meant never becoming All-American.  It was a very liberating idea.  I no longer had to worry about becoming someone else, I just had to become the fastest version of myself I could be.  Could I have lost a few pounds and run better?  Probably.  Was it worth starving myself to become something I wasn't? Probably not.  

Even now, I occasionally am tempted to compare myself to someone else, forgetting how well I am doing for myself and become disappointed I am not reaching someone else's standard of excellence.  I am much happier if I recognize that I am doing the best with what I have and don't worry about what anyone else is doing.  Stop worrying about how you measure up to anyone else.  Just do your best, enjoy running, and be the fastest fat kid you can be.  

What to do on Saturday...

I am done with my marathon now, and find I have time in my life again. I have been looking forward to this for six months because of all the things I could do without having to go for those long runs every week.  I even compiled a list of things that I could be doing with my time if I wasn't running around town for two to three hours every Saturday.  This was the start of my list:

I could sleep in.  A long time.

I could make, eat, and clean up breakfast and be halfway to lunch.

I could do my grocery shopping.

I could read a good book.

I could watch a whole movie, complete with bonus features. 

I could clean my whole house, top to bottom. 

But I couldn't think of more than two or three things that actually sounds like a better idea than the run. And now that I actually have the time to do these things, all I want to do is go out for a run. I think I must be missing something.  What exactly is it that normal people do on Saturday morning?  I am open to suggestions.  Maybe there really is something better out there that I am missing. It is interesting to think of the possibilities in case I ever retire. But for now, I guess there isn't much I could do that is better than my Saturday morning run.  See you out there.

Another Marathon

So I have done it again.  Another marathon.  I swore I would never do another.  It was still 26.2 miles.  Still 3 hours of running. Still painful. And it was amazing.  I think I need to apologize to marathoners everywhere because I have spent years moaning about the marathon and complaining about how it isn't a good race to run. Too time consuming, too hard, too long, not good for the body, and on and on and on.  

And all of that is still true.  But I am beginning to get it a bit. To run for three (or more) hours on the edge of one's ability and push limits back is to truly accomplish something. I can run a 5k and feel good about what I have done.  But after finishing a marathon I feel primarily exhausted, followed closely by exhilarated, unconquerable, and strong.

I owe a lot of this to my sister.  She wanted to attempt a sub three hour marathon, which is 6:52 per mile pace or faster.  That is fast.  I didn't think I would be able to run that fast, but I am a little competitive and so figured if she could try it, I better give it a go as well.  I trained hard and had some good tune up races, but still entered the race with a lot of questions.  Before the race, and even at points during it, I questioned whether or not I should try for the 3 hour mark.  It would be much easier to just relax and run without pushing the pace. I remember clearly a decision point; I realized I had to risk to receive the reward. If I just ran safely and comfortably, I would never know what I can do. Without risk there would be no accomplishment.

I ran for it.  The first hour I felt great.  The middle was steady work.  The last hour I started to hurt.  The last three miles took willpower to keep moving at all as my quads  felt like someone had been kicking them for the previous two hours.  And I realized that the hardest parts of the races are where we prove ourselves.  I needed to prove to myself that the training is all worth it.  That I can do hard things.  That the most rewarding things often require a sacrifice of time, effort, and comfort to attain.  

I crossed the line in 3 hours, one minute and 30 seconds.  To some it would appear that I felt short of my goal and that I might be disappointed.  On the contrary, however, I am still amazed at what I was able to accomplish.  I set a new pr by seven and a half minutes.  I ran about 4 minutes faster than I thought I could.  I ran an average of 6:55 pace for 3 hours, and I am even starting to believe that I could go a tiny bit faster. Sometimes what appears to be failure is really a great achievement or a jumping off point for the next goal. 

So although I haven't been able to climb stairs all week, and even sitting down and standing up was a major effort for a day or two, it was only two days before I started talking about the next one.  Because I think I'm starting to get it.  I am grateful for the chance to find the superwoman in me that is only found at the end of 26 miles. 

In the bigger picture, this is exactly why the Lord gives us trials too. He knows that we need to see the strong people we stand to become. We can't always recognize our own strength when we are standing safely on the starting line, or well within our own comfort zones.  As we experience the pains and discomforts of life, we work, we endure, and we are stronger for it. It doesn't feel good all the time, but at the end we can stand back and appreciate the growth we experienced along the way.  Fortunately there are plenty of people to help pace us, encourage us, and even challenge us to be better than we think we can be. 

So while I don't want pain, or trials, or marathons, if that is what it takes for me to become better,  I say bring it on.  And watch out world, because if it's me and the Lord in this together, anything is possible. 

Muscle cars

I have always had a thing for classic muscle cars.  My dream vehicle is a sixties Mustang convertible. There is something about the strength and power that muscle cars exude that I find appealing, exciting, even sexy.  To cruise down the road (because muscle cars never "drive", they always "cruise") with the wind in your hair is the epitome of freedom.  

However, I drive a minivan.  It is practical.  It is functional.  It gets me from point A to point B.  But it is neither strong nor powerful and nowhere near sexy. And between the kids in the backseat and the errands to be done, freedom is out the window.  

Fortunately I have another vehicle.  Running, I've decided, is the equivalent of the muscle car for me. I can head down the road, wind blowing through my hair, feeling strong, powerful, and yes, even sexy.  The rest of my life is lived minivan style: safe, practical, and functional.  But running is the one chance I have to show some muscle.  To push the engine to its limits and see just how fast and how far I can really go.  To enjoy the scenery and the journey, without being worried about where I am going or by the need to get things done.  

So while it is wonderful to have a minivan, and much of life is lived therein, don't be afraid to let your inner muscle car loose every once in a while.  Go cruisin', relax and enjoy the ride.