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.
So, yesterday I ran a 5K called the Heather Hurd 5K. It is organized in remembrance of a young woman killed by a distracted driver. The pictures of multiple individuals killed by distracted drivers on display at the race yesterday (left) is haunting. There are many reasons car accidents happen and will continue to happen. This one can be avoided. Maybe someday everyone will catch on. The race and the idea of avoiding senseless death and injury in the future are part of #WhatMakesYouSoar for me yesterday
So, what else did I learn yesterday?
First, I learned that I could run about the same time as I ran last year. I ran a 19:16 this year. Last year I ran a 19:11. This year, I could have run exactly the same time and I would still have gotten the 5th place overall that I did (instead of 3rd place). The field was faster this year. That is a great thing for the race--to attract not only more runners but better runners. My first mile was fast (and the first mile included both a serious downhill and a serious uphill). I lost a good bit of speed on the second mile and then regained a little on mile 3. At the start, I was off to the side in row 3. (The rows were not all that wide.) I got out in the lead group that consisted of about twelve to 15 individuals. That shook out to where I was in eighth about a half mile in. On the climb up the hill as mile 1 ended, I ran past one guy up the hill and another guy as we topped out on the hill. That left me in sixth heading into the second mile. I had my eye on the two guys closest in front of me. By the end of mile 2, I was able to catch the guy who was one in front of me. I believe, when all was said and done, that it was more his getting tired than my acceleration, but I did set my sight on him and get him. I had the guy who was fourth clearly in sight the whole time. But I ended up finishing about 9 seconds behind him. (I've gotten good at estimating as I had thought it was about 10 seconds before I saw the official results.) The other three ahead of us were about a minute ahead of me and the winner broke 18 with no one near him. When all was said and done, I was able to run with the idea "don't let anyone pass by me again," and there were 22 seconds between me and the nearest runner behind me. So, it was all a good lesson.
The other part of yesterday's lesson comes from my bib number "57". It didn't occur to me immediately when I saw my bib number, but I had used "57" indirectly with a friend recently (although it was neither a bib number nor a race time at that time). The reference 2 Cor 5:7--a verse commonly interpreted as "walk by faith and not by sight." How did the relate to yesterday? Well, I tried to look at my watch as little as possible throughout the race and just run hard. No "sight" of the pace as I went along. Just the faith that running my hardest would be the right thing to do. Might I have found the encouragement to push a little harder if I stared at my watch? Perhaps. (Especially since I ran 6:01, 6:33, 6:29 for the three full miles, maybe I could have found a way to pull just a little harder.) But since I could see a guy ahead of me the whole time, I'm not going to put too much emphasis on seeing in this case. It is what it is. The race was fun. I was first in age group and brought home a lovely medal. I love the cause.
Before I talk about other spiritual/numerical insights from yesterday, I do want to say that when I was running "against" a walking bunch yesterday (on the course at the same time) and the bunch was students from Harford Community College, one of them shouted out "great job, sir". I suppose being the first one over 40 to pass them, I should simply take that as a sign of respect, but it always sounds weird to be called, "sir."
Two other numerical insights. First, with a time of 19:16, I went looking for some inspiration there as well. And I found it in Luke 19: 1-6. It is the beginning of the story of Zacchaeus the tax collector. The story is that Zacchaeus was a wealthy tax collector and short. He wanted to see Jesus so much that he climbed a tree. Jesus invited him down from the tree. Zacchaeus climbed down to receive Jesus and take Jesus to his house. It is the story of someone who wants something so much that he will make every effort to get it. And it is about the faith that I seek to show. As I continue to lead my life (running or otherwise), I hope to keep my faith as a guide at the center of it.
The final insight comes from my 2000 mile goal. With 7.1 miles yesterday (I did 2 miles of warm up and 2 miles of cool down--to the surprise of a race marshal who asked if I was going for a second run in my cool down. I didn't tell her it was actually the "third.")
I sit at 1930.5 miles today (a rest day--giving me more time to write). I will pass 2000 miles two weeks from today during the marathon. My goal is to add 0.5 miles total to the remaining workouts over the next two weeks. (I run on 9 of the 13 days between now and marathon day, so this is adding only a small amount to each or even just a half mile to one.) If I add the 0.5 miles, I will then hit 2000 miles at exactly the 20 mile point.
That would be cool. Why? The 20 mile point has been my "issue" in each of the marathons I've run. I have been able to hold pace for that long but struggled through the last 6.2 miles. What is the name of the town I am heading for in my virtual pilgrimage? Truth or Consequences. What will be my truth? What will be the consequences of making or not making it to my goal? I will find out in the 10K that remains after I hit my 2000 mile goal. What is the name of the church that I am running to in my virtual pilgrimage? Our Lady of Perpetual Help. That is such a great image for what I will be asking for in prayers when I am at the 20 mile mark--help through the rest of the race.
Life continues to scream out for me to connect the dots in some pretty incredible ways. And doing this continues to nourish my soul. It gives me strength. It gives me meaning.
I hope that readers and listeners find meaning as well.
So, my last entry of something truly new was the entry regarding self-actualization where I talked about playing my bass versus running and academics and teaching Sunday school, etc.
What is interesting is that at my recent 5K (on November 9), I ran a 19:10. I had not run that fast since high school. Great. I had not yet taken the time to write about it in terms of a Bible verse. What I stumbled on was Ecclesiastes, chapter 1, verses 9 and 10. Here is the text from the US Conference of Catholic Bishops website:
What has been, that will be; what has been done, that will be done. Nothing is new under the sun!
Even the thing of which we say, “See, this is new!” has already existed in the ages that preceded us.
This seemed like a particularly apt set of verses given my recent thinking about self-actualization. "What has been, that will be" and "what has been done, that will be done." I am making choices that are similar (practically identical) to choices I made 27 years ago. Even the statement "Nothing is new under the sun!" I have always been a person who tries to cram in too much. Who tries to make myself too busy. Who does not focus. I am learning now to get focused. I am learning to be more careful with what I commit to. Am I perfect? No way. But with my new job, eight months in, I am definitely moving in the right direction.
I'm not even sure I would say "See, this is new!" The choice existed before. And I will probably face another choice some time in the future in which I have to think about how to cut some things short and focus on others.
What was also interesting in this situation, was that I ended up sharing this situation with my oldest son's girlfriend. She asked me what had brought me to the electric bass. I shared with her the story. Learned a little guitar when Christopher started. Never got all that good. Wanted to do something along with Christopher when he started in the worship band at church. Couldn't keep up on guitar. They needed a bass player. And the rest was history.
But I also shared with her that I had to make a conscious choice that involved giving it up. And that this was the second time in my life that I gave up something musical. And that gave me a chance to excel at the other things on which I chose to focus.
In contrast, she and my son had chosen music at every opportunity. And it has taken them and hopefully will continue to take them far.
God gives us choices. We have free will. We have to make the choices to give God glory. I feel I am making the right ones. It is amazing how I have to learn and relearn the same lessons. But it gives me hope that I can share with others. Maybe I'm not the only one who looks at a verse likes this and reflects on how many times I have had to relearn the same things. What that says about me. And how I will take that reflection into the future.
