Running 2018

So, today I ran what may be my last run of the year.  6.7 miles is a very common distance for me.  Once a week or more (on average), I meet up with my friend of many years, Lauren, and usually at least once a week we will run a 6.7 mile loop that begins and ends at her home.  I usually run it faster than an hour.  Today, it took well over an hour.  but it involved a 500 foot altitude climb in a little less than a mile.

Why did I do that run?  I did it because this is the fourth or fifth year in a row that I have reached the overlook point at the summit of Massanutten. I enjoy doing it at least once a year on vacation.  I am not sure how many more years I will be able to do it at a run.  But it is a measure of my ability to still run hills--big hills.

I remember what may have been the first time I did it--I was training for the Comrades (ultra)Marathon.  That is a 56 mile run in South Africa with some wicked hills.  It was months in advance but a good indicator of things to come.

In the years since Christmas 2015, I have continued to do it.  Each year before this year, I was worried about my time.  This year, from the time I turned the corner past the last condominium development on the mountain till I reached the top (about 0.9 miles), I didn't look at my watch at all.  I just enjoyed going up and up and up.  Being sure to put one foot in front of the other.  Working very hard.  Meeting the continued up with energy I had.  Not worried about my time.  Just focused on keeping up the run to the top.

When I reached the summit, I stopped to take a few photos before coming down.  The down was also slow given how steep it was and a desire to be careful.

This is a good way to close my running year.  I ran 2122.2 miles.  This is the fourth calendar year in which I have exceeded 2000 miles (2014, 2016, and 2017 were the three earlier years.)  Never one to "just get something done," the least miles I'd run before when exceeding 2000, was 2222.2.  So, this year I have run 100 miles less, but still substantially over 2000 miles.

The fact that I just ran and did not worry about time was symbolic of my entire year.  I ran most of my miles with others this year.  We almost always had a route planned, a distance planned, or a time planned (or all three).  But with a small number of exceptions, we just ran.  Lots of conversation.  Lots of friendship.  Just taking it all in.

A year with "no particular place to go" in terms of my running.  And sometimes, having "no particular place to go" is a good thing.

It means I can really be present.  I'm not looking ahead as I'm not "headed" someplace.

It means I can enjoy because I am appreciating what I have and not planning ahead.

It means I can take it all in.

It is not a bad way to approach life.  Of course, there are times when I have goals.  There are times when I plan ahead.  There are times when I have goals.  Those aren't bad.  But they can draw the focus away from the present.  This has been a year of simply being present in my running.

It made me think of some lines from the Christopher Robin movie of 2018.

One quote, "Your life is happening right now in front of you."  Definitely a good thought for this morning and for running and life in general.

Another quote, "Sometimes, when I'm going somewhere, I wait.  And then somewhere comes to me."  Clearly, I am always coming to things when I am running.  But this has been a year of a lot of "waiting" to see what happens.  I stayed healthy. I enjoyed.  I grew friendships.  I had an opportunity for much mindfulness.  Plenty of great things came to me as I covered the ground.

Finally, "I always get to where I am going by walking away from where I have been."  Each time I run, I continue on.  I see what the run brings.  One run at a time.  One mile at a time.  On step at a time.  Again, great for this morning's steep hill, great for running in general, and great for life in general.

So, I have learned a lot this year about mindfulness and presence from running.  Be in the moment.  Take in what comes.  Enjoy.

If you run, what has your running taught you in 2018?  If you are not a runner, what other activity do you do and what have you learned? 

Life Lessons in a Course Preview

I have run the GBMC Father's Day race either 4 or 5 times now.  It benefits the NICU at the medical center.  Once, I ran it with all three of my sons.  The youngest took great joy in coming in ahead of the oldest.  For the first several years I ran it, the race was in Hunt Valley on a relatively flat course.  For the last two years, the course was much hillier--going from the medical center campus out to Osler, through Rogers Force (hilly!), and back onto the campus.  Two different ways.  Two different courses.  Driven by construction.

So, I have registered myself for the race.  I will register my two younger kids for the race.  And I will run as part of a team with my adopted daughter for the day as I did a year ago.  She is just young enough to be my daughter and I serve as a training partner, mentor, and friend.  We had the good fortune of taking the Father-Daughter competition last year.

With this year's website, it was unclear how the course would be structured.  So I wrote to Charm City Run's race management arm and asked.  And pleasantly to my surprise, less than four hours later when I got off the plan last night, I found the course description.  It is a bit of a hybrid between the two courses of the last two years.  It looks like it won't be short as it was two years ago but we won't have to double back as we did last year.

Still hilly.

This morning, for my workout, I decided to preview much of the course.  I've run most of it dozens of times over the last nine years.  But I hadn't run it in a while and I wanted to remind myself.

I've mentioned several times that the course is hilly.  Up Osler in the first mile.  Up at the end of the race.  Up Stevenson after coming off a nice downhill on Stanmore.  Up Bellona to Charles before beginning the nice descent.  All of those are notable.

But in my mind, the hardest part of the course is when I finish running up the long-slow hill on Osler, turn the corner onto Steven, and have to continue to climb toward Stanmore.  I just thought as I previewed that this morning about all the times in lie when I have turned a corner hoping for something better, something easier, and found instead that the road ahead was actually harder for some time.

That is the point in the race at which each runner will have to decide one of two things--either "this is a hard course and I might as well coast the rest of the way" or "I'm taking this head on and working even harder."  This morning, I took the first path.  I'd run an 8:30ish first mile.  then surprised myself by coming down under 7:50.  Then under 7:40 as I ran down Towsontown.  Then, climbing Osler and around back up over 7:40.  Then, for the run down Stanmore, up Stevenson, and up Bellona toward Charles, I ran 7:14.  Then, I eased up for one mile and took it back down to a sub-8 to finish.

The key was that I ended up with a slightly slower time in mile 4.  But I didn't give in.  Even on a workout a morning after returning from Texas and running by myself and thinking "the course is testing me rather than me testing the course," I ran one of my strongest workout performances in a while and could say, when all was said and done, that I had tested the course.  I'd like to do it a few more times before the race--just to make absolutely sure I know how it feels.  And I can say with certainty that I know how the race can feel if I just take it in stride and work on it.

The lesson for life is to do the same with any other task for which I end up on a similar topographical trajectory.

And to share with others the joy of the sense of accomplishment that one can get when achieving that goal.

Motivational Images

Earlier today I wrote my entry that was supposed to be for yesterday, and I discussed my experience of community in Baltimore at a dinner for donors to WEAA--a local public radio station.

I noted that when I think about Baltimore, I think about contrasts.  Elaborating on what I said earlier, I think about something new around every corner.  I think about a city of the unexpected.  Wonderful music.  Wonderful artists.  An incredible running community.  Interesting African drumming.  Dancers.  Great churches.  Spoken word artists.  And that is just the tip of the iceberg.  So many things that once a person has lived here as long as I have you can know all about but that may take a visitor or newbie by surprise.

I think about the image I have of Baltimore.  The image I have in my head which is mostly described above and in my earlier entry.  And the image I have as part of the tattoo on my leg.  The image that reminds me of where my spirituality matured.

I think of all the symbolism and I think of me.  I think of how much symbols have meant to me--in my day-to-day life to guide my own spirituality and my story of myself (I wonder what a psychologist would say about the use of images to guide my self-image?) and in my marathon training.

The first marathon I ran, the imagery was all about Rocky--the music, the story of someone making it through many trials.  Now, I find the images of Baltimore more useful than the images of rocky.  A city that if you only visit it as a tourist you may think of as a flat city with mostly a "touristy" existence.  However, once you get to know the city it has many hills and many nuances that make it a very interesting place to live and to raise a family.  I mentioned all the unexpected things that one can find if one "turns over some rocks" or "looks around corners" in Baltimore.

My self-image and the link to motivation is as a city of the unexpected.  Crazy turns.  Changes.  Contrasts.  I think of my life as a stream of turns, changes, and contrasts.  And I see how the city is trying to come back and how it sports teams have shown an amazing ability to come back.  And I think of the saint I have on my tattoo against the Baltimore skyline and how he came back and kept going.  And I think of the many professional and running opportunities I have ahead of me that offer opportunities to persevere, or come back, or change or take a turn and always seek and find something new that can open incredible doors on a wonderful future.

Thus, this year, when I run at least one marathon, I think I may occasionally hear a Rocky song running through my head, but I also think I may have finally outgrown that set of motivational images and moved on to images of Baltimore as my guiding light to moving forward on the marathon course and in my life.