Presence

Yesterday was the third consecutive Friday that I structured my life to run with Team Christopher's Place with the Back on My Feet Baltimore program.  There was a time when that would not have been a big deal.  I consistently made three workouts a week with Back on My Feet.  But since my job change in April 2013, I had gone less and less.  And with my training for the Philadelphia Marathon, I went even less.  But after I achieved the marathon on my life and a half marathon personal best a week later, I decided it was time to refocus my running a bit.  And, so, the journey to other running goals began.  One of them was weekly participation in Back on My Feet.  I had continued to run with many non-residential members of the group (i.e., volunteers from the community who run with the members of the residential facilities who participate) but in workouts outside official Back on My Feet activities.  The goal was to get back to feeling like I was part of the team.  And, I have started to achieve that goal.

What was fascinating about yesterday was that it was not just "any run".  On Christmas Evening after we returned to Baltimore from Philadelphia (another city with Back on My Feet), I was surfing the Internet for just a bit before going to bed relatively early.  The current Team Leadership posted on social median that neither would be able to attend the next morning and asked if anyone wanted to lead the circle.  I volunteered and also asked about routes.  Our coach was supposed to be there but just in case, I wanted some suggestions.  So, armed with all the information I needed, I went to bed early and felt comfortable with the idea.

Friday morning came along, and I took care of some work emails and prepared myself to run.  It was a bit chillier than it had been recently, so I had my running tights, a pair of shorts over top (to provide pockets), a long sleeve tight shirt, a short sleeve lightweight shirt, and a windbreaker.  Plus the little belt to carry my phone.  I drove to Christopher's place and did a quick half mile before the official start because I wanted to get 4.8 miles total yesterday.

Then, I went inside at Christopher's Place to see who was there.  One other non-residential member and seven residents.  I must say, in all the time I have run with Christopher's place the number of times the residents have outnumbered the non-residents has been small.  But we went with it.

We waited just a moment or two to see if a third non-resident member (the current coach) showed up.  He did not, so we just went with it.  Circle involves announcements (in this case, only one, that the long run for the weekend would start at 7 AM at the same location the next day).  Then, a quick look around to ask for any others.  Then, the question, "So, who woke us up this morning?"  The "So..." at the start of a sentence is not a necessity.  It is just a mannerism of mine.  In almost four years with Back on My Feet I have been a member and I shared coaching for a little less than a year.  But I had never started circle.  The "Who woke us up this morning?" is followed by the serenity prayer.  I have written abut the serenity prayer on multiple occasions.  I find the prayer comforting.  I find the prayer a call to action.  But I had never given the invitation to the prayer before.  There is something quite moving about calling people together to utter the words asking for serenity, courage, and wisdom.  The presence that members share in that moment is amazing.  The act of everyone saying it together is amazing as well.  (As readers can tell from my past few entries, having multiple voices together does tend to make a big impression on me.)

While running, we had only give go with us rather than seven.  The other non-resident went two miles with two of the residents.  I ran ahead with three others.  Two went four miles (yesterday's maximum).  I ran three miles with a gentleman who goes by Junior.  We talked about Christmas Day and our kids and our families and the food we ate.  Then we got to talking about how long I'd been with Back on My Feet and how I was trying to come back more often.  Junior told me that I was always part of the team and always welcome.  I had not realized how much just running with one person even one time would be appreciated.  When I finished the 3.1 with Junior, I circled back to help to get the distance I had set as my goal and ran in with one of the two gentlemen who had gone to run 4.  Again, the appreciation of the company was clear.

Sometimes, it is easy for someone who has run more than 4000 miles in the past two years to remember how much the presence of another can help when running even just 3 or 4 miles.  And how much keeping that presence can be worth to others who are looking for direction in their running and in their lives.  And while I had posted that starting circle was part of my #PayItForwardFriday by helping my Back on My Feet Team, it turns out that (as so often happens in life) by giving I received in ways that I had not anticipated at all.  

Running Through Streams but Avoiding Puddles

This morning, I had a wonderful Christmas Eve run.  I was out at just about 5:30 and back at just about 7:15 after a half marathon distance run.  You can see the results.  I ran at just over an 8 minute mile pace.  I am glad that I am in good enough shape to continue to go out on any given day and run a pace that is faster than the one at which I ran my 2009 half marathon--my first race.  And my ability to race at that pace should last well into the future.  I just enjoy being able to workout at a pace I once raced at.  

The course this morning was a winding one that I made up as I went along.  That seems to be the order of the day for me most of the time at this point.  I ran down my street and over to Northwood, out to Northern, up the Alameda, across Regester, on Loch Raven to Meridene, around the Mars and Post Office, back on Northern Parkway to Loch Raven, all the way down to the Alameda again, over to 33rd, back to Loch Raven, down to 25th, up to Cold Spring, across to Charles, up to Gittings, back to Bellona, across Cedarcroft, and then wound around my neighborhood to get the 13.1  It was a very enjoyable run.  Temps in the low to mid-40's from start to finish and ran off and on and of varying intensities.




I had decided to run in shorts (you can see how wet the hair on my leg was after the run).  But I also had on a cap and a pair of gloves and a light weight and loose fitting long sleeve shirt.  You can see the picture of my outfit, too.  That is not my happiest post-run look ever, but I was very satisfied with the outcome.  And I was happy to sport my Heather Hurd 5K shirt--a run that have done for four years now to support the cause of trying to end distracted driving and how it destroys dreams.

While I was running I got to thinking.  (Nothing new there.)  I am someone who on courses that are supposed to involve water crossing, particularly with streams, love to run through streams.  I am not much of a trail runner, but when the opportunity arises, I do enjoy stream crossing.  Particularly when the stream is shallow.

But this is at least the second morning this week I have run with lots of rain and many puddles of standing water.  The interesting thing is this--yesterday I hit a few "foot drenching" but not ankle twisting puddles.  This morning for the first six miles, I continued to try to avoid puddles for the first six miles.

But then it hit me!  If I run through streams, why avoid puddles.  The streams are bigger.  The streams are wider.  The streams are often deeper.  So why avoid a puddle that will cause a splash but I'll be past in one--or at most two--steps when in the bigger scheme of things the puddle is fairly small.

I think there are several reasons.  Often when I am running through streams I expect it.  That, of course, is easily solved for puddles by realizing that nearly any day when it is raining consistently there are going to be puddles of standing water.  I can expect them.

Second, I often run through streams when it is warmer.  That argument only goes so far on a morning like this one because the temperature was warmer than during most of the Philadelphia Marathon.  Granted, I was running a 7:15 average rather than an 8:01 average, but it wasn't that cold.

Third, I think is the number.  Usually when there is a stream crossing there is just one.  Or at most two.  There are lots of puddles of standing water in north Baltimore.  So perhaps it is a matter of just not wanting to splash and get wet a lot of times.

Finally, maybe it is the unknown.  I generally run through streams when it it light.  Today it was pre-dawn with sometimes poor street lighting.  And there are definitely times when at the bottom of a puddle there might be an opportunity twist an ankle.  Maybe it is the uncertainty of how deep the puddle is.  Will it be a little splash or a huge splash making the water go half way or more up my calf to Irene's head?  

What is most interesting to me is the question of whether this is a representation of something larger in life.  The streams are like big issues.  The puddles are like smaller ones.  I anticipate and tend to deal with big issues.  I sometimes avoid smaller ones or hope that they will just go away.  And sometimes they do.

But as I approached the end of mile 7, I switched from doing everything possible to avoid puddles to just going through.  And it made the run simpler.  And it made life easier.  So maybe there is a lesson to be learned--just take things on.  And see what happens.  Things will probably be easier.  The problems will be dealt with.  And I can move on.  

P.S. Those 13.1 miles bring me to 2192.3 for the year.  I am 29.9 miles away from my final goal.  It has been quite a year with seven mornings left. 

Changing Patterns

This morning, for the very first time that I can remember, I ran with the dog we have had for 2½ years.  We ran for two miles (total of 2138.1) in 17:19—excluding the time for the three times she stopped for various bathroom breaks.  She ran negative splits with me—meaning that the second mile was faster than the first.  It was a very nice experience as I had to both get the dog walked and run just a little bit—and for me two miles is definitely just a little bit.

Other than the ct that I had not done this before, what did it make me ponder this morning? It made my ponder running as an art form.  I realize that some people may find the proposition that running is an art form to be unusual or completely wrong.  But I see it as art.  Why?

Well, there are actually several reasons.  First of all, it inspires me to express myself.  It inspires me to write.  And that is a very important thing to me.  The writing is not always particularly artistic.  But it is my form of creating something new.  Something that no one else has created before.  And while some “paint” with a brush.  And others may “paint” with their music.  I “paint” with my words.

What is even more interesting to me is to think that I, in some ways, paint with my steps on the road.  In fact, I have drawn a course for one person when I sent a card wishing good luck for the Boston marathon.  And I sometimes sketch out the course that I have run just to see what it looks like.  And I have thought about what colors to make the course.  Should I vary the color by speed?  Should I vary the color by how I am feeling?  Should I vary the color by any other characteristic or criterion?  Or should I just draw it out in pencil or pen to show the shape of what I ran rather than trying to make it art.

And, on top of that, the other key question is how to show the steps, if at all?  Obviously, I can draw the course just as a line.  Or, if I wanted to show a course I had run solo, I could show the course with two feet making footprints.  When I run with a partner there would be two sets of footsteps.  On a run like yesterday morning there would be four sets of footprints.  But this morning there would have been on set of human footprints and one set of canine footprints.

Thus, my title—changing patterns.

Changing patterns sometimes is challenging.  It is easy to stick with what I know as habit.  Changing patterns can take a lot of effort.  There is a certain inertia to just doing what I have been doing for some time.  Changing patters requires more thought than just stick with the same old.  Changing patterns requires different thinking.  Changing patterns often requires planning.  And changing patterns requires commitment.

All of this thinking from running with a dog rather than on my own?  Indeed.  Inspired by thinking about how the painting would look if I drew shoes and dogs feet in a pattern around the shape of the course I ran.  And, how would it change my art?  And how would it change the meaning?  And how would it change the experience?  All of these are questions I ask as I run with another—in this case another completely dependent on me—to make us both happy.  Shared happiness is definitely a changed pattern on a morning that otherwise would have been a solo run.  It is a better pattern that I hope to carry into the future on days of very short runs.  And shared happiness is better than alone happiness any time.

For someone who was once seen as quite the introvert that is perhaps the biggest changed pattern.  Relishing shared happiness—even in running.

Fascinating Ideas

So, I've kept right on running since my last blog entry.  In fact, I have run ever day including and since Thanksgiving Day (on which I did the 5K Turkey Trot) and every day but one since Saturday November 22, the day before the Philadelphia Marathon.  With all that running I am up to 2123.1 miles and trying to aim for a total of 2222 at the end of the year 17 days from now.

In any case, this morning we went to the early mass at which we heard Fr. Burnham tell us about how we should be the light in our worlds and how we are faced with accepting who we are.  He made the observation that it has been human nature ever since the story of the Garden of Eden when everything was provided in abundance, to always reach beyond and to try to reach what was intended to be limited and not available.

Then, I attended the "Parent Connection" activity for parents while children are at religious education in the St. Pius X parish.  This was the third time that the director of religious education has led a session like this.  Today's session was the smallest (only 4 parents) but it was, nevertheless, a great session.

The topic was how to talk with our children about the role of women in the church.

What was most interesting to me was the fact that there was a clearer explanation of the Catholic church's position at present and the fact that it was not the result of a statement made under papal infallibility.

What was even more interesting was the way the director of religious education recast the question.  Yes, we can ask whether having women be ordained in the Catholic church would help to minimize the shortage of priests the Catholic church faces at the moment.  However, the even more important questions could be "what is the role for everyone who is not an ordained priest?" and "how should women be included in higher levels of decision making in the Catholic church?"

There are a few roles that only priests are eligible to perform in the Catholic church.  But, our parish is a great example of how the role of administering a church and leading a church community can be undertaken by a woman (we have had a female pastoral life director for over a decade) while the priest focuses more specifically on the sacramental aspects of his work.

What I also thought about was the ways in which I had experienced women in important roles in my spiritual life throughout my life and the ways in which I have chosen to express this.

Clearly, my tattoo shows St. Sebastian (a man) depending on Irene (a woman) to rescue him after he was shot by archers.  I have reflected multiple times on how, in my life, I have been helped in general (as well as in my spiritual life) by women.

My mother recommended strongly that I join the Newman Student Association at Penn State.

Many of my closest friends in Newman were female.

There was an important female ministerial presence in my experience at both Penn State and Michigan.

The people with whom I have had the deepest conversations about faith and life in Baltimore have been women.

The pastoral life director already mentioned.

All but one of the individuals who has led the children and/or youth ministry program at St. Pius X in our time here have been female.

Obviously, my wife has been a great influence on my spiritual life.

I have written about it.

I show it every time anyone can see my right calf.

And so, I don't have any reason to suspect that women cannot be as important a light to the world in the priesthood of all believers as men can.  In fact, my experience points to women being just as important.

So, my own outlook says there is no reason to think that women cannot be an important part of spiritual life with unique insights that could add something important to decisions made by the Catholic church.  I will continue to rely on women in my life to help with my own spiritual journey.  I don't feel a strong need to debate whether women should be ordained in the Catholic church.  That is a debate for another day.  What I do think is that the church should continue to redefine ways in which to involve women in the most important discussions and most important ministries of the church.  If anyone ever needs convincing of the importance of women in spiritual life, in shaping spiritual life, in making decisions about how to strengthen spiritual life, in making decisions about how to minister based on spiritual life, and to be the light for the world that Fr. Burnham suggested this morning, I have a long list of testimonials I could provide. 

In the Bleak Midwinter

Today was a pretty bleak day.  Gray skies most of the day.  A lot of rain, including this morning when I ran 10000 meters on the track starting at 5:30 for no particular reason but just because I could.  I am now up to 2097.2 miles.   

In contrast, Sunday was one incredible day.  I began with an eight mile run.  Took my youngest to an ice rink for a game at 9:30 (which meant arriving at a rink a little over an hour from our house at 8:45).  My middle son and wife went on a confirmation (Catholic sacrament) trip to feed lunches that the kids made to homeless individuals.  When we were all home, we went to see my oldest son play in a brass ensemble.  And after that, my youngest, my wife, and I went to mass while my middle sang in a boychoir concert.  Then I picked him up.  So each of us got to do at least one thing we very much enjoyed during the day.  Even if it is not all enjoying the same thing, it is nice for each of us to get to do something that really makes us happy.

The lesson I learned on Sunday was that the song, In the Bleak Midwinter can still really move me emotionally.  My history with that song only goes back a little over a decade.  At that time, my children's elementary school (two through and one still there) had a community choir that sang about a half dozen songs at the December Festival of Lights each year.  The festival celebrates Hanukkah, Advent, and Kwanzaa--all use symbols of light.  The contrast of symbols of light and a bleak minwinter was always a powerful contrast in my mind.  

If you have never read the poem before, it is worth a read, in my opinion.  While for non-Christians, the images of wise men and shepherds may not hold as much weight as for Christians, but the last stanza can be meaningful if one focuses on the image of varying gifts and what they mean regardless.  
The reference to being "poor" is taken as a clear reference to resources in the last stanza.  The narrator compared herself to a shepherd and to a wise man.  The shepherd at least has a sheep.  The wise man has wisdom.  In the nativity story, the wise men had gifts of enormous value.  

The narrator has none of these.  In the narrator's case, her heart has to do with love and following.  

In my case, it is not exactly the same, but the analogy is definitely there.  Sometimes, no matter how much money I make and how many resources I am blessed to have access to, there are times when what I don't have is options.  And this is not for me so much as for people I am with.  Family.  Friends.  Fellow runners.  I love solving problems.  But sometimes, there are no solutions to which I have access.  In those cases, I do truly have only my heart to give.  A heart full of caring.  A heart full of compassion.  A heart full of desire to see the best in others.  A heart full of joy to share.

That is what I can share.  

Sometimes that is all I can share.

And sometimes that is enough.

Twos

As of my 7 mile run this morning in the very light rain at about 37 degrees, I am up to 2055 miles.  No longer a quest for 2000 miles.  Now just trying to see if I can reach 2200 by the end of the year.  Then, I won't try (at least for a while) to run more in a year.

Yesterday morning was a bit of a crazy run.  I went out at about 3:45 for a run.  I needed to be home for a 4:30 AM call from colleagues in Durban.  In any case, I ran my 5 miles, came home, entered the data into my log of miles for the past several years, and looked at my cumulative total for the year. It was 2048!  And what was my first thought as I sat down to wait for the call from Durban--"Wow!  That's 2-to-the-eleventh [power] miles."

OK.  I know I love numbers.  And I know I love running.  But what kind of nerdy nut-case immediately thinks about the fact that his total mileage for the year is 2-raised-to-the-11th power miles.  And why do I even know that?

I found joy in halving and doubling as a child.  So I knew all the powers of 2 up to 65536--or 2^16.  Or 2^8 (a number that could be represented on one eight-digit byte of data) squared.

Amazing it is still so close to front of mind for me.

So, anyway, I thought I should reflect on eleven two's that have something (even vaguely) to do with my running this fall.

Here they are:

(1) An obscure reference I made to my wife after my run, saying I had "two chances to ask animals what time it was."  (This is another way of saying I saw two foxes on my early morning run with reference to the children's game, What Time is It, Mr. Fox?

(2) I had two pieces of semolina bread with olive oil and salt for breakfast yesterday morning after the run, the call, some work, and a shower

(3) There were two members on marathon relay team on Saturday.  And we both enjoyed the experience although we did not get a trophy as I'd been luck to do two years ago.

(4) In the past 11 days (as I write this) I had two race PR's.  I never thought I'd PR in both the marathon and the half that close to each other.

(5) In between the PR, I ran a Turkey Trot with two of my sons.

(6) After my races, I hand wrote two thank you notes.  As I noted on social media yesterday, "Thank You" is a very powerful thing to say.  It is an even more powerful thing to write out by hand in this day and age.

(7 + 8) In the marathon relay, to destroy my past running demons, I had to take two hills in the last two miles at a 7:10 pace or better

(9) In the past eight months, I've learned just how much the lessons that can help me to improve in two parts of my life (work and running) are so very similar.

(10) Between running and visiting family for the Thanksgiving holiday, I made two trips to the Philadelphia metro area in a week.  And that had made me very tired.

(11) On the day of the second race, my wife and I were doing two very different activities--skiing and running--where each asks of the other "why would you ever want to do that?"  But we each have our own thing and we stay happy and married. 

One More Race Report

This will be my last race report for 2014.  And I'm honestly not sure when to expect a race report in 2015.  It is possible that I won't race until the MCVET 5K/10K on Memorial Day weekend. But that is not what this entry is about.  

Yesterday, I ran a half marathon.  On Thanksgiving weekends in 2011, 2012, and 2013, I have now run the entire NCR Trail marathon, the first leg of the 2 person relay, and the anchor leg of the 2 person relay.  As someone said to me yesterday, now that they also have an 8 kilometer run, if I were to run that next year, I would then have the entire circuit of events on the Saturday after Thanskgiving.  We'll see whether I would do that next year.  Not certain.

As for closing out this year, the year I ran an amazing set of races that included 3 personal bests.  One during mararathon training in which I ran a 20 mile race in 2:29:56 (meeting my goal of 2:30), the Philadelphia Marathon in 3:09:49 (meeting my goal of 3:10), and a half marathon leg of a 2-person marathon relay yesterday that I ran in 1:30:47.  Finally meeting my goal of holding the 7:00 pace or better for a half marathon race.  (I note specifically the time in a race because that has mattered for the half marathon and 20 miler. For example, I have much better 20 mile times in marathons at cooler times of year but this was my first 20 mile race on Labor Day weekend in under 2:30 in 4 attempts.  And in the half, I had run a non-race half just under 7:00/mile but never managed that in a race setting.)

The race yesterday may have been a little short of 13.1 for me.  My watch said 13.03.  My relay teammte's watch suggested a little over 13.1.  Regardless, even if I just ran 13, this would still have been a 6:59 pace.  And that was what I was looking for.

The marathon and the relay start at the same time: 8:30.  I accompanied Lauren to the starting line, wished her luck, and saw her off.  Then, I headed back inside to use the warm restroom one last time.  The organizers made an announcement that the buses would be loaded and leaving.  I went and picked up both my bag and Lauren's bag and headed for the bus.  The bus driver then told us that the bus would not actually be leaving until closer to 9 AM.  So, I, along with many others, just sat.

It was not bad to sit.  We had a lot of time for conversation.  Turned out that I had sat across from one of my oldest son's Sunday School teachers (from when he was in 2nd grade and he is now a college freshman).  We eventually included others in the conversation.  We got into a conversation about Boston marathon--registering for it and running it.  The other runner mentioned that he had known people who had run 2:22 and had not gotten in when the registration was purely first come, first served.  I asked if he ran as fast as the people eh hangs out with.   He said, "I only run a 1:08 half."  That would have been everyone else on the bust.  He was part fo the winning relay team, but only "only" ran a 1:11.

In any case, we got out to where the buses parked.  More time to sit.  There was still some snow on the ground there, but it really didn't make a didfference.  

Watching the clock, it eventually got to be about 9:50.  That was 1:20 or so after Laurent had begun and I expected her in under 1:40.  So, I decided to head out.  I walked to the handoff spot, put as much in my bag as possible, and left the bags by the side of the trail.  As we reached 10:05 (1:35 after the start), I took off my last layer other than what I was going to wear to run the race and threw it on top of the two bags that were linked together.  I hoped that Lauren would simply notice and figure it must be mine.  (She did.)

Eventually at 1:38:17 after she crossed the starting line, Lauren crossed the mat for the handoff.  (We think it may have been closer to 13.2 than 13.1.)  In any case, she looked strong.  We touched hands, I yelled where she could find the bags, and then I started.  It was so much easier than two years ago when we had to exchange an ankle strap. This time we only had to tag and go; we each had our own chip and the technology allowed them to combine the chip time information.  

So, I was off and running.  The first 0.15 miles or so goes up to the turn around point and, much like I had twice in the Philadelphia Marathon, I had to do a hard 180.  I did that and then heaeded south.  That would be the direction of most of the rest of the race except for the twists and turns on road back to the Sparks elementary school after we got off the trail later.

I made sure that my watch was on average pace within the mile and found that I was running a bit faster than I should at the start as I passed by the handoff point--this time running on the "southbound" side.  I was at about 6:30.  I needed to slow down a bit.  Fortunately, I did and I was at 6:50 at the end of mile 1.  I was not at all sure I could keep that up, so I ratcheted back a bit.  During that first mile, I had gone past most of the people who were in the group that went through with or immediately before Lauren.  Once I passed that group, I was in the intereesting position of having no one immediately ahead of me.  Lots of runners coming the other way.  But no one to pick off for a while.

We had chosen for me to run second strategically.  Despite having run a marathon six days earlier, I was the stronger runner.  Running the anchor leg meant that (a) I would have the uphills at the end, and (b) I would be passing people in the second half rather than being passed by people.  Much better for the psychology of the run (at least for our team).  The uphills at the end are pretty substantial.  Three years ago when I ran the full marathon, my average per mile time was 7:30, but I ran miles 25 and 26 in 8:24 and 8:49 and struggled through the very end at a 12 minunte pace.  I didn't plan for that to happen this time.

So, I trotted along  The second mile was run at 7:03.  Now, for the first two miles I was quite happy as that put me just under 7:00/mile.  Miles 3 and 4 were then run at 7:01 each.  Couldn't be more on target and creeping up a little was not a problem as I was still just below 7:00/mile.

In mile 5, I finally started to reach people to pass.  I passed three peopel somewhere in the midst of mile 5.  I came through that in 6:53.  It did not seem that much faster and my Garmin 10 has had occasional issues on the NCR trail, so I decided to switch my watch to the total time and use the permanent markers on the course instead of either the mile markers or my watch.  Why was that useful?  It gave me something to do with my brain by doing a little mental math during each mile.

Mile 6 was back to a 6:59.  Again, right on track.  And, in mile 7, I passed three more people and ran a 6:56.  Mile 8, my mind started to wander a bit and I ran a 7:01.  This was where I had to make a choice.

I could run an okay overall time even if I had would run 8:00/mile for the remainder of the race.  But that is not what I wanted at all. That was not what I had come for.

A week earlier, when I was questioning myself toward the end of the race and slowing down, my running friend (and relay partner of two years earlier) came up behind me and reminded me, "This is what you trained for."  A day earlier, in an email exchange, a friend overseas had told me about his decision to push through the races he really wanted.  Just yesterday morning, when Lauren and I spoke about how Jackie had helped me a week earlier, we talked about I could just envision Jackie during the race. 

So, I hunkered down.  I pictured Jackie (and my coach who had developed my 20 week training plan) reminding me of how hard I had worked.  I picured Diarmuid telling me about how I had to want the time.  And I picked up mile 9 coming through in 6:52.  At this point, I was no longer counting individuals one-by-one whom I was passing.  While each one did not make as big of an impression, I had people in my line of sight and that was really all that matters.  

Mile 10 and I had a 6:51.  Too bad it was not a 10 mile race as that would have been a PR there too.  During mile 11, the race goes off teh trail.  At first it is mostly flat or downhill a little still.  I ran mile 11 in 6:52.  Still concentrating.

Then, I had to go into the two miles that had cost me last time.  The key question was wehterh I would be able to overcome that feeling of inability to push through and come in with a PR or just get a good time if I fell apart as I had last time.  Christian Cruetzer was at a water stop telling me to pick it up.  Great to see a familiar face encouraging me. 

Pushing through mile 12--I ran a 7:10.  That was a wonderful feeling.  I had made it up and over the hill and then strong back down.  That was one of the things that really changed this training season--my capacity to return to pushing after an uphill.  

Mile 13--7:06.  Again, I had been able to remind myself of what I had trained for.  I was able ask myself, "How much do you want this?"  And answer "a lot!"  With the fraction of a half after 13 miles, I had a total of 1:30:47.  Passing one marathon runner basically as we came across the line.  I felt bad for him, but I had my best half marathon time by far.  And the happiness of holding the slightly under 7:00 pace.  As you can see, running approxtimately a 6:59 and going no slower than 7:10 is an entirely different outcome than in my marathon three years ago.  And even a different outcome than in my first leg of the marathon two years ago when (on a much less hilly part of the course) I slowd to almost 7:30.  

Biggest lesson--as my boss told me in June--go for the win.  

So many interlinking lessons from one run to the next.

So many lessons from three major PR's.

So many lessons that cross between running and life.

All is good.  

And along the way, I met the woman who won the female race--a 43 year old who had just achieved a five minute PR.  We exchanged stories about doing just that--having approximately 5 minute PR's in our 40's--and it is efinitely fun to hear about someone else having such success.  

Final thought--I end November with 2040 miles.  As long as I can be consistent over the month of December I can hit 2200 miles for the year.  Pretty cool. 

An Extra Interesting Detail About the Marathon

So, when running this morning (yes, I was out for the fourth day in a row including my PR marathon on day two of the four), I enjoyed very much running with 2 people with whom I’d spent a good bit of time in training for the Philadelphia marathon. I ran 4.75 miles—a combination of a half-mile warm-up, 3 one mile intervals that we did in 7:10 or better each time, ¼ mile between each, and ¾ mile to finish.  During some of the faster intervals we chatted.  During almost all the warm-up, cool down, and rest intervals we chatted.  What I found out was pretty cool.  They had seen me at the half-way point in the race—although I had not seen them.  Then, when they saw me at mile 22 they thought I still looked strong.  (I suppose even a 7:36 is pretty good for most people.)  But I was definitely hurting compared with earlier in the race.  They told me that Jackie went by two “groups” after me.  (Runners tend to cluster.)  They told her to go catch up with me.  She told them she’d been keeping an eye on me.  Then, not long after she caught up with me and the rest of the race I described yesterday.

That put the “team” effort of this marathon into a slightly more complex light.  Not only had I had the benefit of an amazing coach to develop a plan for me.  Not only had I enjoyed training with five different people consistently during the preparation.  Not only had I had the good fortune to be cheered on by people I knew during the race.  Not only had I had the good fortune to be accompanied to the finish line by a great friend.  But I had friends working together to get me to the goal I’d set. 

So, this makes me think even more of what I will remember most about Sunday.  It could be the time.  For example, today I can tell you my exact best time in the 1600 meter run in high school.  4:41 at the Delaware County Track Championships in 1987.  I ran a better race in the qualifying heat for the finals than in the finals.  Will I be able to recite the time I ran 27½  years from now when I am 72.  Probably.  That’ll be part of my glory days story when I’m getting ready to retire from working for pay.  I will probably be able to tell people that I improved by 4:36 over my previous personal best.  I will probably be able to recite my half splits: 1:33:51 and 1:35:48.  But will all those time be all I remember about Sunday?  No.  Will that even be the most important thing I remember about Sunday?  I think not.

What else won’t be the most important?  2000 miles.  Yes, Sunday was the day I went over 2000 miles.  And, yes, since January 1, that has been my goal for the year and a critical part of my virtual pilgrimage.  But at this point, it is almost a secondary after thought.  Having run the most miles ever before this year in 2013 but still being under 1900, I thought I’d be challenged to run 2000 in 2014.  In the end, it wasn’t really challenging at all—other than avoiding injury.  Yes, the symbolism of the city (Truth or Consequences) and the symbolism of the church (Our Lady of Perpetual Help) I reached are both strong.  But that was not the most important thing.

The completion of a goal was important.  I set the goal and reached it.  It might be the most important thing if I had done all the planning myself and made the goal happen myself.  However, while I set the goal, I had a coach who developed a plan and friends who helped me get through.

If not the goal setting and reaching, perhaps I could remember the effort. The major and amazing push at the end.  Important, but still not the main memory.

The friendship that was showed by Jackie that I described yesterday was important.  While I’ve crossed the finish lines with my sons before, that was because I chose to run with them.  I have not run a race with a friend where either I or they chose to stay together the whole time or to make sure to cross the finish line together.  This was unique.  But still not the single most important thing. 

The most important thing I will remember is that the help I received was a gift.  An amazing gift.  A gift I’d like to pass on.  The gift of others caring about me enough to communicate about me and to make my success their goal.  I wish everyone could feel what it means to be given a gift like that.  Why was I lucky enough to have this experience?  Because I have been lucky enough to find a fitness activity that I enjoy and through which I have built many and deep friendships.  Deep friendships are what leads to people wanting to help each other.  And I was lucky enough to have people who wanted to help me.  And that was the most important part of Sunday for me.