Crash and Recovery

The unusually warm weather persists. Yesterday I started at 9AM, too late for the 20 miles I had as a goal. The 10 to Cooper City and Publix rest stop was steady but challenging. The entire time I tried to establish a sense of whether to turn and go back or go long as planned. It felt forced; I made a deal with myself and I wanted to see it through- I wanted to see my total miles for the week above 50. And besides, I still needed to break the 18+ mile mark. I thought of Josh's advise to 'sleep' the first half of the marathon. So I tried not to think too much for what I knew brought me to about mile 13. Well on my way back east on Taft, it's a dark tunnel of tough sidewalk blocks until University, my legs and feet already sore. And those were the easy miles. From University to 441, I tried to distract myself through the easier neighborhood streets, as I snake my way further on, but a hitch in my left hip began, which seemed to slide into my ankle and foot. It was at this point I began to take walk breaks. Walking, however, is not running. And I had not previously had to walk at this point before. SIGH. From 441 home I honestly don't remember much. I know I walked a good bit of the last few miles. I had to chunk everything down to single blocks, counting the numbers down. I know it was slightly more than the 18+ because I didn't cut the same corners. But if it was 19, or a bit more, it still took me a solid 5 hours. Barely walking the steps home; crashed on the floor, ate until I couldn't eat anymore; my brain seemed on a strange fuzzy shock of recovery...

Which brings me to today. Thanks, again, to Dave, who said, hey, just do a few easy miles and see how you feel. It's probably nothing serious, just beat up by the distance and etc etc. I wasn't going to run at all. I was seriously thinking of quitting the marathon. How can I shame myself by running 20 miles and having to tank out? If I even get that far.....I puttered and pouted all day. Called the 'support team', and by mid-afternoon felt that familiar tug, the push from my belly and feet, the need to be out on the road...but before I left I took my time relacing my shoes, and thinking about the run. Easy miles, slow and steady. Short, nothing fancy. I thought I'd go to the park and do some drills while I was at it, but as I passed it by, an antiques show was underway; I kept going. The cool brisk breeze was a perfect compliment to the warmth of the sun. So even though it was midday it felt fine, wonderful, full of sunlight and ease. I took Park over to the Emerald Hills stretch feeling amazingly strong. Nothing hurt. I worked on my gait, my rhythm and form.
Until I hit Thomas and the stretch back, I stayed consistent, and then felt some sluggishness hit. Altogether, maybe 6+ miles, and I'm glad I did it. Good to know nothing is wrong with my feet, etc, except that I took a pounding yesterday.

I've been taking quite a beating from the Powers that Be, it feels like, as they stack up the pressure and make sure I pay attention to what I say and do and think.
I'm not usually so disciplined; my creative nature loves to mentally roam all over the place. Running appeals to me because it is pure movement anywhere I want to go in space. It mirrors what I love best inside myself, a completely free space, without constraints. Suddenly it seems everyone is invested in how I'm thinking; and I feel I must get it right- whatever 'right' is. Meanwhile, I note my own rebelliousness as a means of trying to stay free, to recover my own thoughts, ideas and opinions, no matter who you are....

Recovery is regaining a sense of balance. So after 19 or so torturous miles, I can run today and feel a bit of hope come back. It's fast coming up on '08, the hearing, the marathon....and whatever else the Universe has in store. I never realized how deep I'd have to go to swing between the extremes of faith and despair without giving up, until, I suppose, I find that tipping point where whatever distance I've gone, I can still stand on my feet and claim the space with honor, ease and self-respect.

So quiet and alone

The run over the interstate, across major roads and into the neighborhoods had an eerie silence to it...which only happens a few times a year when most folks are snug within their cocoons of comfort or discomfort, depending. After 10 miles yesterday, I did 8 today, with a good kick at the end, and a few sections of hitting a higher push on the pace. I've been eating more, and maybe it accounts for the endurance. But my sleep is disturbed again, and I'm just trying to run out the nervousness, fear and anxieties before I head back to work tomorrow.
Dave offers lots of support from Urban Shaman. Very practical, yet elusive as is all change-advise. My strategy was to try to attain some emotional distance from everything, but I don't think there was quite enough time....after getting past the unveiling and family, it wasn't much until the real world comes flaming back into my head.
December is coming to a crashing close. Somewhere on a church billboard I saw the xmas message "Share the Gift". I had to stop and think about the gift, past the personage, and the sharing. And how to find a root to it all, to get deeper than the social networks that I've lost. I shared time with the sky, the atmosphere filled with light today. I followed my feet around the loop of streets until I passed the park, closed up tight. I barely hobbled to the corner where I came to a stop and felt my heart pound in my chest. My legs and feet are sore. My heart is frayed at the edges. I know this is a time when the burden of loneliness is difficult to take, but as long as I'm moving, it seems easier. It's just when I stop that the undeniable reality of silence comes.
For those who carry the Joy, I salute you and thank you. May you carry me through, those who love me, as I carry others through their suffering and pain.
Let's share the gift- of hope.

It was just a 30K after all

The crisp, cool night of Solstice was invigorating. Best laid plans were just that, laid to bed. The week, with it's heights and furrows, constantly tripping me up, was over, at work. I needed and wanted nothing more than to vegetate blissfully on my living room floor. So after some drills, fresh air and a sauna, that's what I did last night, a feign attempt to leech the crappiness out of my system from The System, trying to pollute me once again....

So I slept, long, restless, and I dreamed, of....not sure what. But when I got up, I wanted to follow that cold air out into the day, on my feet, and see what could happen. I thought for sure, going really long, past Douglas and my Publix outpost, might bring me into a 20-ish range. There wasn't a cloud in the sky when I took off; it was an ideal day for a long run.

I've worked out some packing, a hydration belt with just 2 bottles, extra cash, a bar and gatorade/protein powder. I feel like a packhorse, and I don't like it; the shorter runs I don't take a thing, and I prefer being completely unencumbered. I also wore the clothes I consider racing in. So I had all this optimism and hope, and I took it on gallantly.

It wasn't a bad run. It was pretty brutal there somewhere past the midpoint, but as usual, something always resolves towards the end, no matter how far that end might be; peculiar. Anyhow, the problem is, I checked everything on my e-map; I barely made a 30k....and the point when it became difficult was- big surprise- mile 13, what would be the halfway point. Every wincing dragging limping crazed footfall was still miles and miles short of what I would have to be doing....how do I physically keep moving for an entire half marathon feeling like I'm on my last legs??? 5 hours, yeaa, right. More like 6+ and that's generous. For the first time I had to walk through the possible scenario of not being able to finish....in some fashion...and could I accept that, after all this work and anticipation.

Seems I am always over-anticipating myself; I have such vision of everything. The details of getting there are so mundane, but necessary, yes I know. It all seems natural and easy at first then suddenly limitations and boundaries are everywhere. What felt like limitless potential and possibility devolves into necessity; the Mother who does indeed invent our lives. It's necessary to try, I suppose. I just don't know any other way. I've quit a lot of things in life. I understand the risk of walking away and what's at stake. I have remade and redefined my path; I am more nimble in my head than ever on my real feet. It's all an arteface of something anyway. Who am I on the road? Just some girl running. No one knows me. I have no obligation except to keep moving forward; no one bothers me, I'm just traveling through.

I hope I finish. I don't know if I want anyone there. I have to accept any possibility, in public if they are. Difficult call. I am a month out now, and there are more hurdles to come. If I keep my shit together, head level, and just focus on the swing, the move, the rhythm, maybe I can stay up, keep on, come through.

Trying to Stay on my Feet

It would appear that the Powers that Be are throwing obstacles in my path this week, as I find out about work-related challenges that are serious enough to cause lost sleep and nightmares. I am a person prone to emotional bleed; the intensity of my inner life can be easily thrown off balance by the turmoil of conflict directed at me. As a counselor I am learning to deflect the hurt and pain of my clients, knowing it is energy blocked about others, not me. But this time, it is my superiors who are on the hunt. And what was my honest efforts to achieve a greater stability, clarity and unity in my work has now been redefined in an adversarial way by others. It never ceases to amaze me how this works. And the casualties it causes. Very real harm is done by those who take positions against others without cause. Follow Tibet. Follow any of the political hot spots. Power, control and authority at other's expense. It's a very sad state of affairs.

The sun was throwing slow moving shafts of morning light through the sheafs of gray clouds, spitting drizzly little showers now and then as I rounded out my 8 miles. It was good to be out, on my feet and away. I took no music today and found in my head the images of my dear friends CeeCee, Vitae, and Shari who magically connected yesterday, a time when I needed to hear from those I love. My spiritual family. The nightmare I had lumbered around in the back of my head and occasionally tried throwing me off my stride. I got really fatigued coming off 56th. But somewhere in that last mile or so I found that little nook of peace, away from traffic, tucking into my own lonely heart, and letting my feet take me home.

It's hard to remember this is going somewhere without Fear nipping at my heels. I try to stay focused on everything happening as if nothing is wrong. The cougar I dreamt about, who is stalking me, better beware. Maybe I am stalking him. I might be running him down.

It Wasn't Pretty

Saturday got away from me; so Sunday had to be a long run worth logging. In the end, it was somewhere around 18 miles, looping extra long across 95, before turning west to head all the way to Cooper City. I took a break at the Publix there at the corner of Douglas and Sheridan and I was already spent. I'd gotten caught in a squall on the last stretch in and was soaked through; my feet were squishy with water, my visor was no protection from rain washing down my hair, I was cold, my legs hurt....and I still needed to go all the way back. With the extra beginning loop this was a 10 mile mark. Discouragement was all I could feel. I tried to remember what it was like running the Half last year, standing in the chute in the dark, in the pouring rain....but by mile 10 I was almost home....this time 10 miles would be more towards the beginning than the end, and here I was, dog tired.....

By the time I headed out, the rain had passed, leaving gusty gray streaks of clouds in its wake, puddles in the sidewalks, drifts of water from the passing cars....I kept trying to find the gait that would dampen the discomfort as I came to Sheridan and University and decided to go all the way long, and find the cut to Arthur which would make it the longer loop. By doing so, I gain a long straight stretch to 441 in a quiet neighborhood where traffic and sidewalks are not the issue; finding that stride, that gait that takes me beyond discomfort and pain is. I battled with myself; I became at once angry, discouraged, immensely fatigued; I wanted to quit then and there, hitch-hike home and toss my shoes away. I wouldn't accept that after all this time, at mile...whatever...I was still feeling like this...how could I ever run past the distance of a half-marathon without tanking? It just did not seem remotely possible.

I took every portion from that point on in small bits. At University and Taft I had to walk to 58th...Once I got back onto Thomas and the last long straight stretch, I tried to forget about everything, to find the long vision that would bring me home.
Strangely, it was probably the last mile, maybe less that I found a groove...a few strides or pushes where something seemed okay, to meld with the road. I like to think it relates to the horse coming into the barn, and the instinctive anticipation of the end of a long journey. Every run seems to have this animal feeling towards the end, the pleasure of completion, of coming in from the Big Trip. By then, rounding up Park, and stopping to a walk by the apartments, I could hardly move....
I kept thinking its just 6 more, but nahhh....its EIGHT PLUS more....8 is what I do on my week-day runs...8 is a regular day. Add that to yesterday, to survival, squalls, cold, fatigue, despair; and THAT is the MARATHON...

I am suddenly scared....I want to quit. I received the E-card for registration last week, and I see my name and number. It doesn't seem remotely possible that when I line up with other runners, I can legitimately wish for the finish. How can I get my optimism back? In time??

Tough Runs

Despite a beautiful morning, lovely breeze to soften the early sun and motivation to get it right, I dragged my sorry ass the entire 8 miles today....without a clue as to why. It frustrates me to no end when this happens, even when I realize I have ramped up my overall mileage, as well as increased my caseload at work etc. It still escapes me what specific factors influence a good run versus a tough one. David gave me much needed inspiration, so cool. But its my own feet that must take the burden of the journey one mile at a time, one step even, one heartbeat, on the hope of completing the effort.

Is it just the fear? I had nightmares last night. I'm irritable and edgy. The dialogue in my head is full of gunk. There is plenty of light, but they're carnivale; they seem charactatures of promise, and I wonder if it will all pan out as promised.
What is certain about any of it anyway? I make a commitment to show up. But anything is possible, including failure. If there is hope of redemption, I have to take it on faith. Hard work, hard work- and more hard work. That's all I have, for now.

Key Biscayne, Bill Baggs and the Rickenbacker

After taking Friday as a rest day, I acted on impulse and packed my gear for the long loop on Key Biscayne. From the bottom of Bill Baggs State Park to the entrance of Key Biscayne its a 16 mile loop. And it was a beautiful day! I started a little after 9 AM, with enough of a breeze to offset warmish temps. As I drove the route in, I tried to scope out my run, where the construction would constrict me, and how to navigate the bike paths coming up to the first bridge. I felt just fine as I cruised through the small, enchanted downtown of Key Biscayne, with its pictureque bus stops and well-heeled shoppers, rounding up to the highway where all I can work with is the bike path. I decided it was prudent to have them come at me instead of from behind; so I ran on the left side and had the view of both traffic and cyclists as they came down the road. The advantage was having full knowledge of how much room to let loose, and when to make way. The stretch up to the marina was uneventful, and I felt strong. The first bridge, which is long and shallow, gave me my first glimpse of open water, and reminded me of why I love to run here....and on I went heading for the Rickenbacker.

I figure it must be about 6-7 miles in when I hit that massive bridge; I can see it from a distance as it hovers up and over the water like a great hovering bird, and each time I see it I wonder how to conquer it. By the time it arrives, I mentally fall into the rhythm which will move me up and up -and up until I can see the top and open sky....the way down is just as taxing, staying on the gait, trying to keep my legs from flying out from under me as I take to the rest of the straight-away and the entrance gates....

Turning back, it's apparent my legs are pooped. I try an easy loping to give myself rest, but I have the Rickenbacker once more, a punishing climb, then a stop after I cruise another mile to the frozen lemonade stand. I cannot run distance without calories; the frozen lemonade gives me sugar, the sourness to clear my dryness and the cold when I'm overheated. I slurped it as I loped another stretch, and discarded it as I hit the second bridge. On the other side was the highway stretch to the city....running the bike path, focusing on my gait, it was a brutal run....my legs felt leaden, heavy, my feet hurt...its not my endurance, its my body that causes the problems....I don't seem to run out of oxygen or gas, I have to contend with the aches and pains in my legs.....

I make a mental note....I am 12-14 miles....this is so much less than the marathon distance I begin to feel the deep abiding fear that nags at me, that I will not be able to complete.....I need to get back to my car and know there is only one way it will happen, so I knuckle in to my pace, my gait and keep going, through the main city blocks, out the other side and there, gratefully, is the entrance to Bill Baggs. It was a strangely long mile into the park and to the car. When I tried to stop, it was difficult, and I almost couldn't walk for a minute....I had to loosen my legs for a while by walking in the parking lot....and even then, I felt run over by trucks....

So by doing this long loop on Saturday, I haven't one planned for today, Sunday, my regular day. I mapped out long loops between now and 1/27, to get between 15-22 miles....I'm not sure what I'll run today....feel like I need to get out and do something.

Not sure what factors to consider; weather is unseasonably warm. I'm working long hours (translation: sitting long hours at a time). I've been having fluctuations in diet, eating lots, eating less, hungry all the time. Aches and pains in general, especially neck and shoulders, increasing. I have a call into a sports massage therapist. I hope this helps.

I suppose its natural to become faint-hearted when there's nothing to depend on in previous experience. I remember last year preparing for the half, and feeling it was just as impossible. But it's still difficult to run 13; I've NEVER run beyond 18 (in the 30K)....so I am truly in unknown territory....

There are many people, young people, old people, men and women, running first marathons. They are not extraordinary by most standards, except for believing in the potential of their abilities and love of taking a good risk. What is so different about me? I am definitely out to prove something to myself. It's the biggest physical challenge of my life. Where my intellectual skills may have gotten me through very serious challenges in my life, what I learn in this pursuit is how strong I really can be, both physically and mentally. Emotionally, I have created a buffer with the world that comes from the satisfaction in my own efforts. I am pleased with myself, proud of myself. There may be no one tracking or mapping or cheering me on day by day, but I have my supporters, and I am just grateful that when it comes down to it, I am able to feel the great freedom of every run.

Running for fun, for fulfillment, for peace.

Website

http://www.riccirobson.com/index.html

For any professional inquires, please take a look at my website. And thanks to my dear Sandy for all her hard work putting it together!

Wise words

In our concern for others, we worry less about ourselves. When we worry less about ourselves an experience of our own suffering is less intense."
-- Dalai Lama.

First December Long Run

While winter storms blast the midwest, unseasonably warm temps bring an unusual challenge for training this time of year. For the first long run of December, I cope with 80+ degrees, and head west, past University to Douglas Rd and the sign for Cooper City. And though it felt like the ends of the earth, according to the mapmyfitness site, it was, altogether, a 14 mile loop. Of course I cut the initial corner by jumping right on to Park Rd, but still, I was pretty amazed....after every long run I ask myself, can you go an additional 5, 10, 12 miles??

I felt strong to Douglas. I stopped at a Publix to refuel, and on the way back struggled to get my gait back all the way to John Williams Park, the next stop. But when I hit Thomas St. and the straight stretch home, I found it, the magical groove when whatever discomfort suffered seems to dissipate into the back of my awareness, and the rhythm of the run has a momentum of its own. The day was gorgeous; a little hot, yes, but crystal clear, with a small breeze kicking up in my face, each block passing me by in a blur of numbers counting down, taking the last turn with just enough energy for a kick home.

December is the last month to train hard. I want to sustain my 50+ weekly mileage and increase the Sunday runs. I figure if I keep going west, I can add miles easily, looping back the way I came. The traffic is sparse and I have stores to stop if I need them. It may still take me a ridiculously long time, but I still need to prove to myself I can stay on my feet for many hours. I even found a new way to lace my shoes which relieves pressure off the tops of my feet, and this was an incremental and enormous help. By Jan. I want to log a 20 miler and be ready to taper by mid month. I am trying to figure out how to gauge my expectations; too high, and I will be in for a hard fall. Too low and I might undertrain, and miscalculate my own resources. My running companions will be instrumental in helping me with this; they seem to understand the experience as only someone successful in running marathons can do.

It feels like a long ways, that 14 miles. Almost double, and I make it 26. I picture trying to do that loop twice, and how to make my feet rise and fall, rise and fall. I've done the 30k, so I can go longer, but I'm feeling intimidated by all this distance all of a sudden. Where am I going? I need to be careful, when out there, not to get lost, so close to the end.

Tibetan healing practice; another reason to support Tibet and the Dalai Lama

The Tradition of Chö
Chö is a unique spiritual practice and a path to complete enlightenment. It can also be used as an extremely effective method for healing others in body, mind and spirit. The chief way it does this is by clearing the karmic obstacles and blockages arising from our negative interaction with others in countless past lives. Harming others through physical, verbal or emotional aggression results in a karmic seed, which ultimately ripens in various sufferings of body and mind. These sufferings are particularly of the kind that are not readily explained by our immediate actions, attitudes or life context. Rather, they stem from our taking of life, vitality, property, honor, confidence or hope from others. They may also arise from past actions, speech and thoughts, based on greed, attachment, apathy or egotism. Similarly, the limitless ways in which humans disrespect or despoil the material and spiritual forces of nature, the planet, or the elements (fire, water, air, earth) are the basis of numerous difficulties and life obstacles; socially, materially, physically and mentally

Clearing Karma
The way these many debts are repaid in Chö is by offering our most previous and closely guarded possession - our own bodies - to the universe. Our physical form is left behind, and our consciousness takes on a pure, enlightened form, appearing as the wrathful feminine Wisdom Dakini. One’s corpse is then transformed and prepared in a variety of ways so that each and every being receives offerings of exactly what they desire. The highest, enlightened guests are offered beautiful objects, nectar, divine sounds and so on. Humans, animals and other sentient beings receive food, shelter, happiness, a mate, love and whatever they lack or need. In particular, those whom we owe a karmic debt are repaid, and are given back whatever we have taken from them, or whatever eases their suffering. This may even take the form of our flesh, organs and bones, or whatever demonic beings may desire (thus causing our illness). While undergoing Chö ritual one may merely rest and relax, or one may visualize this process of paying back all debts, multiplied a million fold in our mind.

Thus, on one hand, by making exquisite offerings to enlightened spiritual beings, one creates tremendous positive karma that generates health, prosperity, happiness and ultimately enlightenment. On the other hand our negative karma and its consequences, is purified.

Note that Chö is not "exorcism," nor does it simply banish or aggressively attempt to destroy or hurt attacking or injurious entities. On the contrary, demonic or obstructing forces, and all those that have karmic debts with us, are satisfied and placated. They are healed and brought towards the spiritual path, giving up their negativity and rage.

The Chö Cycle
Healing Chö uses the profound power of sacred ritual, sacred sound and mantra, combined with the meditative power of Lamas and Anis trained since early childhood to perform these practices. The thousand-year history of Chö inherently carries extremely potent blessings, as it is connected to numerous lineages of enlightened beings, mahasiddhis, realized yogins and Archetypal Spiritual Beings (or Yidams). Chö particularly calls upon the enlightened Feminine Wisdom Energy, in the form of a Dakini, the Wrathful Black Troma.

While this all brings incredible vitality and veracity to the practice, its greatest strength lies in the leading force behind those rituals - Kunzang Rinpoche, a renowned Master of Dzogchen in the Ancient (Nyingmapa) School of Tibetan Buddhism. His own life reads like a fantastic tale: from the prophecies about his birth to the enlightened visions and experiences of his early childhood, and from his study with the greatest Lamas of the last century to his flight from Tibet, arriving at his recognition as a true living Buddha, a fully realized and enlightened being. those who meet him see a deeply loving and compassionate human being whose openness and wisdom illuminate his simple, straightforward approach.

Excerpted from a paper by Asa Hershoff

I find my Inner Runner

I finally had the opportunity to focus on 'space' yesterday; outer and inner. I spent much needed time on my apartment, reviewing and organzing all sorts of areas, finding trash treasures and new ways to bring the elements I love into view. I have been living in the same kind of space since my teens; a glorified studio, to work, read and regroup, to hide and heal. There is less division between outside and inside; plants are thriving. And as always, the images and art everywhere serve to mirror my inner landscape where anything is possible.

So I approached a run yesterday in the spirit of adventure without plan. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do a 6, 8, 10 or longer miler. I knew 4 days in a row was pushing it, but didn't want to pass up a beautiful day. Plus I had 2 pieces of blueberry pie to account for. I headed up Park Rd to Stirling. It gave me a mile to warm up and think about how far west I could go. A little sluggish, it wasn't long before I found my stride. On Stirling, I focused in on the long straight stretch and stopped at 56th for cranberry juice. At that point, with everything feeling fine, I decided to head over 441 to the Seminoles. The road back to Sheridan was a beautiful, full-out glide. One more stop at John Williams Park (city kept its parks open, County did not), and I continued east. Definite fatigue and miscellaneous aches and pains thru my feet and legs, but they shifted around. This seemed quite reassuring, as if all the small parts were working themselves out. Somehow, by the time I rounded up to Emerald Hills Drive, I found it, I settled in, with everything a-hum, and there was my Inner Runner.

She took me in a great leap of confidence and wrapped me in the music. We took off down an empty road the holiday had cleared out. The circular stride of my feet and the swing of my arms, tucked efficiently in to my body, beat out against an invisible drum of air somewhere mid-point before me, and once again the eperience of running as drumming came alive. I melted all boundaried into the soaring light and sky around me, the air in a steady whoosh as it carried me along. I've had stretches of good runs, great runs, but nothing that felt like this; I went on till the end of the run, till I made it home in this state of transformation. I somehow started the run on a quest for survival. I ended in a great ball of light.

We never know when the moment arrives. We train to be ready for it, however. We use our disciplines, whatever they may be, to crank open doors wide enought to let the energy flow when summoned. Most of the time, we don't even know we've made the call. But something else in us does. It gets us ready. It makes sure that days and days are put in of gritty mornings along lonely roads, deep in deepest thought, pairing away at any unnecessary doubt which can cloud the impact of bliss. We must be ready to receive, to embrace, to run with it, carrying it along from point to point until it is ours to carry no more.

The Courage to Care; A Thanksgiving note

I ran a tough 8 miles today, hours of sitting at work exacerbate the soreness of higher mileage, but as I got closer to the end of the run, I found new gas in the tank and took the last mile in an easy, long length of high strides. I felt the pressure of December looming, and what it will take to keep my focus in training. There are many distractions in my head as I meander my thoughts about work and life taking shape, always in flux. But the start date is a certainty and a commitment. I found a calling in my feet that took me from momentary moods to the ability to take heart in my long-term stability and good health. I found the courage to care about myself in an entirely new way. The strength and stamina running gives me provides more energy to care about my clients, co-workers, and loved ones. The struggle that was negotiating my way through life has become the adventure of seeing what the road will give me today.

You runners out there, you know who you are, I must thank you for your support. Cheryl, Marlon, Dave, the uber-runners who have marathons under your belts, who cruise through your miles as seasoned veterans, you have been incredibly generous to me. I fell in love with running through your eyes, and encouragement. And as the community of readers out there sees it through mine, I hope to transform my vision of running into accomplishing commitments to care about what matters in life. Transform yourself! Allow your lion's heart to run into the world full of foolish pride and certainty that anything is possible with your good faith, your vision and your love. We will all be standing, cheering you on.

These are Beautiful Days

We are different, in essence, from other men/women. If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon.

Emil Zatopek

Thanks, Marlon, for the quote, and congratulations on your marathon.

After a rest day yesterday, I completed a stunning 8 miler today, complete with mild temps, beautiful clear air, and enough winds to make it challenging on the way back. My legs were still a little sore from the weekend mileage, but I felt strong overall, and re-inspired to give my all to this effort. I feel uplifted by forces unseen, the accumulated time of trials and triumphs, the honesty of my spirit connected to others who run, who ran, or who wish me well in my life.
These are beautiful days, and I cherish the sound of my heart beating hard in my chest when I hit those strides which seem lifted from the earth; taking flight in my heart, I see my dreams taking shape.

Romancing the Run

In the same way we forget the pain of difficulties, but tend to remember sweet times, I find myself romancing even a tough run. Today I headed out after sleeping in, intent on catching up on much needed rest. Heading west, I worked through the initial miles worth of foot cramping and fatigue. I went long. I wanted to work out whatever was pent up inside me; and the day was with me- clear, mild temps and breeze. I ran without music, and listened to the chatter in my head. I found the niche of warmth in the movement of miles stuck in the middle of the run, and loosened up. I think it was 16 today, felt like it anyway, and the toll it takes is now catching up with me. I ate all day, rested between chores. No matter the intensity of the effort, I kiss this run with my heart. And ready to do it all over again soon.

The subtle energies, often none too subtle in running, seem magnified....and it feels as if all my spaces are filled with light and rhythm....the quiet pause between the beat of my heart, or my footfalls, seems eternal.

First 'cold' run

I wasn't that keen on training this morning, after a very busy week and already logging 42 miles. I floated on my fatigue last night and decided to let my mind make itself up over night. The cold air settled in; our first strong front of the year. At 5, with the thin black pre-dawn sky about me, I packed up and made my way out. By 6:10 I found my feet and rounded up Bayview. The chilly air brushed up my skin in small prickles of electricity, my pace was brisk, the dawn was just breaking. By Ocean Blvd the white caps out on the ocean were alight with the early sun. I took Sunrise in a steady gait, a little tired. Las Olas and boats crisp against their peers. Rounding the corner into Victoria Park. The long meandering road up to Sunrise hugs a strip of park on the Intercoast the neighborhood is named for, full of lazy morning dogs and owners, a few walkers, and lovely lush landscaping. The last crossover at Sunrise is flush and easy....when I come in, the attention of all the other runners is elsewhere....but I'm persistant in my vision of early movement in the dawn....

The world wants to take us down a lonely road, a hard road. We fight for our right to find our own way, against the pressures and pitfalls. I waited many years through the confusion to hear my footsteps on the morning winds, coming across oceans and swales of winds, punishing and sometimes neutral in their presence. When the light suddenly emerges, it takes the wind into it, and the way into the distance can be apprehended...I feel, now, the trust in movement....and the balance it takes to sustain. We have only a little ways to go. The day is still with us. The tide can be turning even now.

About the Beach

I wasn't planning on it, but suddenly, after 3 days of being cooped up in a classroom, I took off for a run at the beach. Parked at Dania peer. A bright, clear, windy, mild temps day. A day when you can run at any point because even mid-afternoon, it's perfectly comfortable. I did my World Run day run yesterday, not sure if it was 10, felt like 10, 5 out and back, full of fast energy again, like today.... Apparently, not running for 2 days was a good break. I cruised the roads, and today, swept down the Broadwalk, focused on the narrow track of brickwork that hugs the beach. The beach was spotty with bathers, and the surf was wicked fast up onto the sands, whipping green and full of foam, crashing against itself. I wasn't planning on it, but I soaked up enough sun and wind and ocean to fill my eyes with raw beauty. Enough I hope to put soft steps into the runs I do this week. We're back to it, now, routine training. Hopefully nothing alters this but what needs to be done. Between times out, back, and- beyond.

No one Runs the Same Miles

Ryan Hall blew the pack away at the Olympic Trials for the men's marathon, Saturday. Ryan Shay, also a team contender, collapsed and later died after 5 miles. Martin Lel, of the fleet-footed Kenyan champions, took the NYC Marathon today for the men, while Paula Radcliffe, my girl, 8 months from having her baby, blows off her competition for the women's win. At the Trials, my boy Abdi, as well as Meb, didn't fare as well, and Alan Culpeper, hands out a DNS. Khalid, Dave's guy, threw himself at the leaders for an alternate spot on the Olympic team. Many others, young, gifted, swift, also champions, never made it to the front of the pack.

No one runs the same miles...they say there were men and women in their 80's running New York. The super, uber-athletes may lead the way, but the course is full of unlikely runners, every stripe and level of ability. And the crowds that go crazy when the leaders pass will still be screaming for them too! Their adrenaline and excitement pushing the energy way up, where a tired runner can hook onto and crank out another stretch of race.

I watched both events; I can't believe I will soon, one day, feel that experience. I ran long today, probably about 15 or more, picking a route that would give me a few good long straight stretches to practice stride and rhythm. It was punishing, and I've been tired for several days. My feet and legs ached the entire time and it only increased. I was out a ridiculous amount of time, even with my stops, and I laughed at a few points about my goal of 5 hours for Miami...sometimes I wonder if I'll ever make it at all....

I watch the elite run their best miles, their pretty miles, miles with smiles. I watch them work through what I know is discomfort and stress if not outright pain. The ones churning like torpedoes, as Khalid did, and the ones, like Ryan, who flew like a fast wind, just inches from the ground, in a ballet of speed; elegant, long strides, easy arms, unwasted movement.

Where are we running to? That place in our heads that belongs to us. We wait for the moment when our bodies are too busy to notice that we are fixed somewhere around ourselves, as if what we are is actually the instrument that carries us, body and all, down the road. That feeling that we are indeed in good hands, our own, and the world is bearing us up on our feet so we can go longer, or faster, or stronger. The sense that anything can happen between the start and the finish, and its up to us to find out.

No one runs the same miles, and all the stories that NYC will generate this weekend will fill many editions of news reports, magazines and conversations.... I have a story too; I have a belief that nothing prevents me from putting myself on the line, and testing my commitment to unraveling my love of this endeavor. It's a mystery to me- and that tells me its full of grace and beauty and truth. It has transformed me, and allowed me to see within myself, direct and pure, in a way I never could before through my head. It has taken my heart and given it courage and confidence; it has proven me more tenacious than I even hoped.

The "I can do it so can you" line I use for my clients over the years in regards to changes, and the many significant ones I've been through, is particularly poignant with running. We assume there are rules and expectations that must be met. But the bottom line is, if you love to move and get out there, anyone can run. The most democratic sport; it encourages anyone, any age, any disability or ability to participate. I can do it because I watch the crowds behind the leaders and see myself. Soon I will be in a pack with other wanna-be's and we will be havng the time of our lives winding through the streets of old Miami. I will run for the Ryans, the wheelchair champs, the teams raising money, I will run for the oldsters and the young guns. I will run for my own family to bring energy to their challenges, and to meet up with some of my own.

But mostly, I will run because I can. Because I'm curious about my miles. Can I have that moment of effortlessness like Ryan? Will I triumph like Paula? I can aspire to be my own hero.

Blessings, and Happy Trails, Ryan Shay. We'll be 'tapping' you too, if its OK. Thanks for your incredible life.

Running the winds

As T.S. Noel tumbles through the caribbean, the winds have begun to gust in crashes of air that ebb and flow like waves on water. It looks like we are not in a direct path, but the outer bands of the system are brushing by us, and today's run was an exercise in wind in my face, wind at my back phenomenon. I fully expected less energy and stamina after 2 back to back long runs this past weekend. Fighting the winds of any sort takes so much more strength, but surprisingly the resistance gave me something to lean into, and the rhythm of my steps found the timing of the air currents as if we entrained in a musical improv. I hit the stretch down Arthur with wind at my back and was able to effortlessly focus on gait, posture and core. I flew up and over the road, or so it seemed. Once I rounded back for the stretch home, it was wind in my face, and I leaned into the pressure allowing my legs to turn in a steady cadence, my feet pounding like drum beats I could feel from my heels to the top of my head.

I felt amazingly strong when I finished. The great rushes of wind were swirling all around me as I came into the parking lot. The one thought that kept reverbering was how consistency pays off, no matter what the conditions. The circumstances may change, and factors shift and shuffle, but its always one foot in front of the other. When the timing is right, its not running anymore, its flying.

Step by step

Proof: photo from 30K

6AM, and the Ft. Lauderdale training group is ready to roll. I've taken 2 days off to rest the 'protesters', the body parts that have been aggravated, and to allow my energy to come back. I'm noticing that the more persistent I am, meaning days in a row, the more fatigued I'm becoming....at 40 mpw, I can afford more rest! And it paid off today. Heading up Bayview in the dark, I felt light and in rhythm. At the beach, heading back south, the sun had begun to peek between swathes of grey clouds, shimmering pink and coral colors onto the white caps washing into shore. I took the straight stretch down Sunrise to Las Olas in one big gulp...using the bike path when possible to focus on my gait, and not the sidewalks. Coach finds me on Las Olas and provides fluids, and when I pick it back up, I realize the boat show has brought in heavy traffic on the docks. There are boats everywhere! Luxury, little, impressive in their careful order. I round north through Victoria Park for another stretch straight on enjoying the lovely atmosphere of older homes and the verdent green of the parks hugging the water to my right. Everything seems especially light and irridescent, fragile and shimmering slightly in the early dawn. The park transforms to houses and before I know it, I make a final kick to Sunrise, and the store.

Although I had the ipod today and practiced my pace, I thought, as well, about the gains and goals I'm achieving, when everything about the world seems conspiring to knock us all off balance. The benefits of 'core-training', that attention to the body's mid-section, in providing stability during the run is not lost on me....I have gotten to the core of things within myself, I have found strength and fortitude I never thought I could rely on to carry me through....every mile, each step is an achievement. And whether they come easy, or with extra effort and concerns, the basic rhythms are all there now. All I need to do is relax and go with the ride.

Lost in Hollywood

My first class at NOVA began this weekend, putting a big crimp into my running schedule....3 days of sitting under flourescent lights were incredibly tough, making me stiff, irritable, and at once exhausted and antsy. I realized how much freedom I have at work to get up, down, walk the building, the halls, and do whatever I have to for keeping in motion when I can between sessions. By the time I came home from Sunday's class, it was still afternoon; I threw on my gear and hit the road thinking, I need to put in a long run while I have the time.....

I head west. I use the park just west of Sheridan and 441 as my first stop and contemplate my options. I love the stretch that goes west from the Seminoles; its low traffic, its straight on to University, and I can pump out a good pace by then with plenty of juice in my joints. By the time I make it to University, I have probably put in 6-7....and refuel. I decide to loop south and catch Arthur St. back east, but when I head down University I mistakenly go all the way to Johnson before I catch my mistake, giving me at least an extra mile or 2....

I'm tired...I have a LONG ways to go...I have now about 6+ miles ahead, and my legs don't have any bounce left in them...I try to find a rhythm, a pace and settle in. I think about the class, about the assignments I need to work on, getting ready for work projects ahead, and mostly, the distance in front of me...stretching out in a straight line forever to a disappearing horizon, thinking, how will I do this in the marathon??? By the time I cross 441 and pick Arthur back up, I am cruising back into my familiar loop. My feet and legs are wobbly and wooden. The wind has been into my face making the effort extra hard. I keep scanning down the road, estimating time and distance. Now I'm cutting a corner here and there, aiming for home. And by the time I make it to the last stretch of sidewalk, I am so sore, that when I try to slow to walk, I can't; I keep a kind of hobbling run that is as hard to stop as it was to start.... Total time on the road? 3:50 includes 2 rest stops...probably 3 and 1/2 hours running total.

I am pushing myself this fall, right up against my limitations, and beyond. I shed a tear or two over this weekend from the sheer strain and stress, and had to remember to give myself more sleep, more nutrition and most of all, more encouragement and validation for 'job well done.' We may never get the recognition we wish for from the outside, but we know what we do or don't do. We know, in every run, exactly how far and how fast we went, but mostly what it took to 'gut it out' on the way. I know it was a heroic effort that brought me back after getting lost in Hollywood....and I know it will be like this, on my way to the finish in January.

Registration has been made!

The commitment to put my money where my mouth has been has been sealed; I registered for the Miami Marathon on 10/17/07. Since I have the option of having my own name on the bib, it will say "Ricci Runs". I posted my estimated time at 5:30. I figured if I did the 30K at 3:45, with a pit stop, then this should allow for plenty of time and wiggle room, whatever the conditions. I'm relieved now that its a done deal....all the hemming and hawing is over and I can focus my mind into a realistic training routine from here on out. I'm glad I began so early in the summer. I feel like I'm just where I need to be now, able to handle some higher mileages, and with a few more months of building intensity and endurance I hope to feel a bit easier mentally about looking down the scope of 26.2.

I didn't go out today for any run, although I had hoped to...so far I have 32 miles in for the week....I'm feeling pretty fatigued, my throat is a little swollen, and all this tells me I'm pushing it a bit too hard. My class is this weekend, so tomorrow I'll try a regular 6-8 miles before I head out for this big weekend push. That should give me about 40 for the week, and keep me adjusted to the extra level of intensity that 30k gave me....

So here we go, nothing's changed, its still one day's run at a time, one foot in front of the other, taking it as it comes, one week building on top of the other....until I reach that starting line.....I've come a very long way to get this far, it's not that long now....

A1A Training Run- 30K report

4AM came awful early, but I tried to be sure I was not only prepared and packed but had time to get ready with breathing room. In fact I made it to the parking area off Hillsboro with time to spare, along with the first runners who were, like me, checking gear and hydrating. The winds were stiff in the pre-dawn dark....coming briskly off the ocean in gusty streaks, as I walk the less than a mile to the pavilion where the race begins, and all of the Ft. Lauderdale Road Runner club members who put on this event are out in force, their well-organized troops in camoflauge t's and hats manning their stations. I realize its a good-news, bad-news situation: its not raining (yet), but those winds could be a real pain in the butt, depending on how they're blowing....OK, I'm rested, ready, fueled, hydrated...and I have my blinking blue light everyone is given this year to follow each other through the dark....and while I wait for the start I just try to relax and visualize...9 up, 9 back, 9 up, 9 back....thinking of my morning loops, my long runs, and the last run I did Friday when I felt like I flew down the road on truly light feet....this is such a low-key event. Once we get to 6AM, its a few announcements, a "ready, set go" and we're off!!

I don't know how or why, but it seems EVERYONE is passing me!! ok....I'm good, I'm listening to my ipod, and trying to navigate in the dark....not easy....and just aiming down the road, up the one overpass, and getting into the groove of the straight stretch for the first half. I try to recognize that most runners are younger and fitter than I am, and scan for the smaller bunch that seems to run at my pace. Once I lock on to a few of them, I re-set my 'compete' expectations to fold in with runners at my basic speed and continue on. The dark doesn't lift until the 15K turn-around point, and this is where I fell last year....and yes, the dawn is coming on, but the weather is full of high winds and spotty clouds that scatter up the ocean swells, shielding the sun and keeping the temps comfortable. Good news, bad news as I get battered by those winds pushing into my face, against my side, tripping my footing, making me press extra effort into every step....As I pass that check-point I think, this is it, I'm committed to the 30K. Here we go; and at least I have light. The runners who opted on are mostly ahead, I can see them stretched out far up the road....as once again I find a few in my pacing I slide in with and head up.

Psychologically I find it interesting how subjective distances can be when you're aiming for certain points...The few miles before the 30K turn-around seemed absolutely endless.....and as I approached, running through those runners who had already made the turn, I searched their faces looking for hints of what lay ahead, asking for information "is it far?" All the while I know I have to retrace these steps....but if I just make it this far.....there it is! The far reaches of Siberia!! The team of club members in their battle fatigues manning this outpost, Accelerade and water at the ready.... whoo Hoo!! I stop and give myself a much deserved few moments of rest and shoot the breeze...as is everyone in the Club, they are warm, supportive, encouraging....they let me whine and moan just enough to get it out of my system; once I have enough fuel back in me, I figure OK- here goes! and set off back down the road.

The wind now has my back, sort of. Gusting at unpredictable intervals, once in awhile blowing me sideways, at least its still comfortable, and I'm somewhat over 2 hours in. I feel light cruising back down the road. Somehow it feels comforting to know I just have to follow this walkway all the way to the pavilion, no matter how far....and allow my feet to glide to the music. So I just try to stay with the beat, and a steady stride, taking on hydration at every stop and asking for mileage.....I'm counting down and make it in to the 15k turn point. Another big bunch of Club members give me encouragement, a bathroom stop, and off I go....

Once I passed 16 I realized I was in "no-woman's land"....never having run a step longer than this in my life....I tell my feet, just keep on keepin' on...there is an end!! There are a few runners just ahead that I keep my scopes on, and pace to, one is running just at my speed....I set my sights on her and just try to keep everything in motion, even when my legs begin to feel like they want to fold up under me.... When I see the last water stop I also see the overpass....and I know I am close....after that its a mile+ into the finish, gutting it out, keeping it firm and trying for just a little kick at the end which I do every single run. A lone photographer is standing by the pavilion parking lot entrance, pointing his camera at me as I come in; I raise my hands high in victory signs, a huge smile on my face- he gets the shot. There is no official clock, no crowds, but the Club members that are there to hand me water congratulate me......as I lope in and ...can't quite stop......until I cruise on thru....and shift gears down.....
30K is now under my belt. 3 hours 45 minutes (more or less) unofficial time.

Miami.....??? get ready. get set.

Preparing for the 30k

At breakfast this past Saturday with some of the marathon training team, Coach tells me "Don't worry about the 30k." Uh huh. Right. The reason for his confidence was the unexpected 13 1/2 miles I put in that morning on a long loop he, once again, miscalculated. "You did the 13, so only 5 more and you have the 30K." Yea, right. It sounds so easy coming from him. An elder stateman of the sport, with his curious accent I find out is an amalgam of English, Belgium and German. He was confident because of his experience. I was skeptical because, well, I've NEVER run that long....and even though I managed that 13+ out of my butt, essentially, flat out, 1 water stop, still! 18 miles??

I ran the same race last year and did the 15K. So I know the first part of the course. Its a beautiful run along A1A in Deerfield, and I tripped and fell just shy of the turn-around. Not only do I remember my complete humiliation, the helpful concern of other runners, but how, once on my feet I saw that turn and the magic split where the 15K-ers headed back and the 30k-ers went on (and on....).... I remember vaguely thinking of it as a kind of no-man's land...where runner's go to trek endlessly into the dawn (the sun had just finally come up over the ocean- still one of my best running/race memories...)- how do they make their way back? This year, its my turn. This time, I have the 'team' with me, as most of the marathon group will be there doing either one or the other distance. Knowing I will be seeing familiar faces makes it a new experience. If I am caught out in those far reaches, somehow I trust that someone will be scouting out my trail. I will be on the hunt for my own stretch of endurance, grit and fortitude.
Because after this, if I survive in one piece, I have promised myself to register for Miami. This is my deciding event.
If I tank, its the Half, again, for me. So time to test myself.

Today, after an easy (yea right, are they ever??) 5-6 on Sunday, I did my 8. I know I am getting stronger, but its tough none the less. Hard to tell whats going on or why. I will still try to put in about 30 miles this week, and on Coach's advice just a very easy 2 or 3 on Sat.
I will have to be up at 4AM to make it to the start- with plenty of time, and hopefully enough gas in the tank, faith in my heart, and depth in my spirit to carry me - all the way in.

signs of success

Every week, the Saturday morning marathon training group seems to add and subtract new folks. Today, with great weather, I'm placed with the 10 milers; ok make that 8. Coach seems to map out the routes with markers that become some sort of 'negotiations'. Regardless, today's route puts me back on the bigger loop I began with, a lovely circle north, then over to the beach and down a long stretch by the ocean. My 'pack' is a group of comfortable 9 min. milers, and a girl who, much younger than me, claims to be a 12 min. miler. Yea, right. USED to be. She's more compact than I am, and I watch her stride for hints as to how she manages those efficient fast steps. She's full of helpful advise: lean slightly, kick the heels up, don't let your hands cross. They're doing the Galloway run, walk breaks, and despite my early grasp on them, they begin to be perpetually ahead. I am pacing myself to run as full out as I can and not crash and burn. This is an 8 miler after all! And no breaks at the park, etc., just Coach's Accelerade at mile 4.

It's the turn-around point, the group is passing me back up the sidewalk. A gusty shower breaks out thats right in my face. I see Tracey up ahead, set myself against the wind and start back. Making the turn on to Sunrise, past Hugh Birch park, I head over the intracoastal when the sun must have broken through the clouds over the ocean behind me, and above a HUGE rainbow breaks out from one end of the sky to the other, capping the perfect disk of a pearly moon. Wow.....I have to remind myself to watch my feet on the tricky walk, up and over. I yell out to every other runner I see "Look up!" The last rainbow I saw was when Michael and Yu were leaving the apartment here and out the back, over the parking lot a rainbow had broken out after another fast cloudburst. This rainbow trail has connected me from then to now. I followed the road back to the store where all the spent and happy runners were stretching, logging miles, comparing notes. I was happy to log mine. Met another Broward County employee runner, and laughed about bueraucracy and red tape. Changed out and took a last breath of the very good, moist air that took me all the way from one end of that rainbow to the other.

Signs of success seem to be telling me that something I am doing is coming around right after all. The week's demands at work, which were daunting, confounding and disheartening, came with unexpected support and opportunities to shine. The universe is cooking up plans to lengthen the distance in my expectations for happiness. As I run this road towards my future, it appears surprising and magical things are there to provide signposts, confirmation, motivation. It's ok now, settle in to your stride. If the ride is right, the elements that come to make up the journey will converge to give you a true story, a wonderful story of courage, light and love.
It's all there waiting for us, right around the next bend in the road.

Coach

The tropical depression that brought buckets of rain to the Gulf threw a few tails of storms in its wake in our direction; last night wild lightening storms glittered the sky. I canvased the news to try to decipher if marathon training would take place, even emailed coach Robert about weather. His response? ....we train in the rain...if its lightening, duck! etc. LOL. When I finally hit the bed I figure, see what's happening at 5AM. ...... Skies were clear. I throw on my gear, pack and leave. At the store, my 2 prior running buddies are missing, and in their place is Laura, short, compact, looking kind of fast, all business. Coach asks me, what are you doing? I say, I don't know, I had a hard week. Put in 34 miles, last run felt sluggish, and didn't run yesterday. He says, do 7, go with her- and points to Laura. Ipod wires at the ready, she seems good natured, and definitely ready to roll. As we cut out the door she says, don't worry I'm a 9 minute miler. I laugh; I say I'm just along for the ride, knowing this is faster than me.

The pitch black pre-dawn is heavy with moisture from the night's storms. Another group of runners, 4 milers, are already out ahead. Sure enough, Laura sets out- bam- a beautiful efficient gait that's eating up the sidewalk. For the ride towards the beach I just try to keep her in sight. We pass the group. At the beach we turn south and other groups of runners, bikers, are scattered like troops setting out to distant lands....Laura is by now too far to see. I'm churning down the big sidewalk of A1A, terrified of tripping, unable to see my feet. They seem to land with a plop-plop sound that seems hesitant and awkward. I am not feeling it. I figure we are in to our second to third mile or so heading for Las Olas, and I watch the bigger groups across the road skimming the beach; they look young, confident. I start to hear the talk in my head; what am I doing out here? I get so cocky, think I'm so great, then I make it out here with all these "real" runners and stumble along. I notice this self-talk. I know Laura is long gone. There's a drunk guy in my way, weaving and stumbling. I feel a little scared. I feel alone. I remember I'm supposed to turn right at Las Olas....and when I do, there's coach! "alright then, there you are, keep going straight on you'll see the bridge..." in his british accent. OK! Then I'm immediately lost again, winding through what is probably straight on but feels like I have temporarily fallen into a whirlpool of side streets. But there it is, the bridge over, and off I go! As I round the top I take a minute to look out at the boats in their slips, the few subtle colors of pinks, corals just coming off the sky, reflected in the water, the fairy tale houses that lean over each other on the banks......ah...coming down, I'm wondering ok, how far until I turn? Each right hand turn is a spit by the water. Just as I wonder where in the world I go, I see the lanky figure in his Team Ft. Lauderdale shirt, with his old master's gait, eating up the sidewalk, coming towards me. There you go! and he gives me my next set of points, as he leads me in to the water station at mile 4. Whew!!

From there its more directions while he heads up the road. I stop a good little while and soak up the Accelerade. I'm bushed, its damp, and now just coming light. I look up the road and see lush quiet neighborhood; my kind of running road! So feeling refreshed, I head up.

The silence of residential neighborhoods in early morning is glorious. In this one, the perfect Florida formula of old houses with big, lush landscape inspires me....I hug the water as the street rounds east and catches Victoria Park and north again, past other smaller greenways....amazing what I find in the runs.... sounds of birds, the plop-plop of my shoes....and There he is! Coach has come back down the road and is running me to mile 5. For a short stretch I leave the sidewalk (god i hate sidewalks.......!!) and follow him by the side of the road, watch his gait....it seems he hardly moves and yet I know he's probably going at a snails pace for him....while I try to just keep behind him, in sight. Ok, he chirps, there you are, that's 5, now its down there, up there, over there, and you'll be at the store.....

Coach doesn't strike me as too interested in small talk, as I take his cue, and he loads himself in the van for his next stop. Another lovely stretch, I see mosaic work on walls, the wonderful mix of art nouveau and artsy fartsy that Ft. Lauderdale does so well, with just a seasoning of decline....the sun has come up, the neighborhood is fully revealed as I come up to Sunrise and the shops, early morning traffic. It seems fast, and it felt dreamlike. He wasn't at the store yet when I finished, and the sense of his impression like a figment, my own urban running legend, was strong.

Running is SO mental. The inner resolve is best illustrated by what I know must be for him each week's preparation to keep track of the scraggly bunch of runners we seem to be. The paperwork, the hydration stops, the maps, the mile markers pain-stakingly painted on streets, the very careful keeping tabs....

I am so used to being alone....When my only job is to show up and run, it feels wierd to have someone paying attention. I see this theme play out in my life in many ways. I must live for myself, while realizing others might have a stake in my life as well. Only I can get mself through the course, but there are others ready to lend me directions, offer me encouragement, take care of my needs.

This might be the whole point of 'joining'....to allow myself to 'belong'. I, who never felt much attraction towards belonging in a concrete sense seem to be pulled in like a magnet to circumstances that take fortitude and trust on my part. That's ok, that's good. Those are 2 good and valuable things I have that I can stand to strengthen. A lot. For God knows it's all just getting started...!!

Even small changes can be Big

For the first time in a very long time, I slide out the front door to find a slight chill in the air! Wow....what a feeling of relief, as I hit the overpass and take the streets in long, easy strides, for once not fighting the oppressive heat and humidity that always feels like a wet blanket pressing down on me. I resist the temptation to wear extra clothes, knowing, before too long, it will be just as hot within the hour. So today, it was smooth, dream-like, a wandering down roads until I realized I had come to my water stop at the park, with only a mile or so to go.

Even small changes can be big. And I know there are big changes in the wind. It's just hard to say how they are shaping themselves up. Suddenly it feels like everything has hit a high gear; with the turn of the seasonal wheel, a new push has come into play, as the world determines itself in its order of priorities, from one quarter or another.
I have been surprisingly consumed by goals; work goals, running goals....and the strange personal pressures of social connections which strive to take me out of my dreamy inward journeys.

Is it time to surface? With every long run, and every descent into darkness and solitude, light eventually breaks, if I can wait long enough and suffer the lonely road. Even I, it seems, can be called upon to come back from far places.

Commitment to goals

Okay, now its official; I've joined the Ft Lauderdale Road Runner's marathon training group. When that alarm went off at 5AM, I had to remind myself that any amount of anxiety, of meeting new people, confronting a new situation, and running out with a group of strangers was worth the benefits of training- consistency, improvement, and yes, eventually getting me to that start line in Miami.

I pull up to an empty parking lot in the dark of pre-dawn, and watch the first cars drive in. I finally get the nerve to move out and introduce myself to a few folks until I find out the coach, Coach Robert, is inside the store, prepping his paperwork. It's short intros and a surprised, impressed response when I report my 40 mpw. Apparently, I'm ahead of the game, and he quickly assigns me a rough general plan as well as the day's mileage "how's 6-7 sound? go with them", pointing to a couple of women who look like running vets. A quick look at maps, water stops, and its out the door and off we go.

I am not a good runner in the dark, and sidewalks are my nemesis. I decide to "follow the leader", Nancy, who appears to run with little effort in short efficient strides. We turn off Sunrise, past George English park up Bayview, a road I'd never seen, until we hit Oakland and turn to the beach. I feel surprisingly good- my 7 miles the night before gave me a kind of preparation- and it was coolish- with the light just hitting the water as we rounded the turn south at the ocean. Coach Robert pops up unexpectedly on Bayview and again on S. Ocean (miles 2 and 4?) at our water stops...a few words of encouragement, 'how's it going girls etc.'. I feel fine, I feel part of my little pack. We've been joined, by now, by Esther, who is elite, who runs on her toes, who is out ahead with Nancy, while Jane and I hold our pace. The stretch down to Sunrise is fluid and light- I try to put it up a gear, just ahead of Jane. I fly down the bike lane, until we turn on to Sunrise. Up and over the water, until Federal, and home to the store.
Just shy of 7 miles. Everyone comes in at their own pace. Accelerade is mixed at the ready. The store is open for our use, and on the sidewalk, towels are thrown down for stretching. I receive my official t-shirt and singlet. I change clothes. I record my mileage for Coach. I'm done for the day.

Sunday, I did a 9.5 miler from North park beach, up to Dania Bch Blvd, looping over to 14th Ave all the way into Hollywood, to the Blvd, over back to the beach and up. Felt amazingly strong despite running in the middle of the day in the heat. (Started at 11:30AM) The middle section through Hollywood was picturesque, along the water, picking up with roads as I went, until I caught Hollywood Blvd. If I started it from my house, it would be more of a 12-15 miler, so a better long run. I have to remember that in about a month I have a 30k to contend with.

Commitment to goals means now that every Saturday morning the alarm will go off at 5AM, and I will roll out of bed and into running clothes to join up with the Ft. Lauderdale group. It means slowly working my way through the weeks between now and that 30k, through November and Key Biscayne, and into December when Coach Robert decides to work me hard. It means the anticipation of tapering into those last weeks of January. The marathon tip I received this weekend? visualize the goal, and see it happen; the mind will then 'accept' the reality- the body will follow.

I, who have accomplished many goals in life that were seemingly out of reach, am reaching for this one now. My natural persistence should pay off if I allow myself the satisfaction of meeting the short term goals of participation in the process, as week by week I chart the miles, the conditioning, the accomplishments. It's not just physical, its so mental. It's getting past miles 2-3, until it all becomes loose and easy and it feels like anything is possible. Where the feet are able to go, the mind can transcend, is free like birds on the water, in pre-dawn light, skimming the surface of dreams.

but there are those endorphins....

Running is serious business!

longer and longer

Now that I'm topping 40 miles a week (last week I made 45!), I am increasing the length of the long runs. A few weeks ago, I managed 16 miles from the bottom of Bill Baggs State Park at Key Biscayne, to the top of Rickenbacker, and back. Wow. That is a story in itself. An amazing odessey. This past Saturday was 14, from the house straight west through the local 'hood, past 441, all the way to University- and back. Cutting through the Seminoles along a lovely stretch with trees- and shade. It feels like my endurance keeps improving, although I'm doing these long runs in the middle of heat, so its hard to tell. I signed up for the Deerfield Beach practice race in October, 30k, which should give me the last good sense of what real distance will feel like under race conditions. If I survive, then I promise myself to register for Miami.

The heaviness and intensity of emotional pressure seems to be lifting, with the shift in temps....or is it just me?? When I go out at 7AM, there's actually a hint, a presence of coolness in the air...the sun just kissing the horizon line, as the traffic follows me up and over the short bridge and on to my 8 miles. I don't know how it will happen, those 26+, I still can't get my mind around it. But the 8, 10 and longer are coming just a little easier. And the longer I go, the more I seem to want to stay out, just testing the limits now, testing my own strength of mind. It's all a mind game now. How much can I endure? I have taken in so much of the challenge in life. This is just one more.

hard runs

Not all runs are pretty. Not every day is a beautiful day. The cycles of healing pull us up and then down into the shamanic descent that's required of us to squeeze the poisons from our spiritual tissues, and cleanse our souls for survival and growth in the 7 planes.....Not every corner gives us respite.....And today I find myself carrying my own dead weight right along every mile of 8, resurrecting as I go the last little bit of hope and inspiration tucked away for this moment when needed.....not all healing is healthy, sometimes it feels like a bag of crap.....and the run just like a washing machine cranking down the road.
I ran today to push through the trauma, betrayal, disbelief and sadness....I ran with my heart heavy like my feet, my legs burning from punishment. I kept the pace despite wanting to quit quit quit every mile, to give it all up, to sit down at a corner and put my head in my arms. I stayed on the road past exhaustion and prayed to the Mother to take my pain and make me understand, and by the last few miles I began to shake off the hunger in me to fall apart. There was my last loop, the stretch before Park Road where I let my legs loosen up and my stride open....I put my whole heart into that last half mile to see what junk would fly out....what tears, fears, broken dreams would scatter in my wake. The winds whooshed by me as I took the turn back by the park, to home. My heart was racing in my chest....and everything seemed to ache inside.
The healing that demands that I keep running this lonely road will one day break open to a World of Light...and not just in dark places, but in colors and parties and welcomes. One day.

14 and 40

As I hit 14 miles for the long run, I top 40 miles per week. Two weeks in a row now. Both long runs in the middle of the brutal heat and humidity, and yes, taking a ridiculous amount of time. Although yesterday, if I factor in the time I took for breaks, once at the park, and once to buy gatorade, it was probably my half-marathon time....so I think I'm finally adjusting. My ipod is set to all the faster downloads, between 175 and 180 beats per minute...and I stick to this throughout in my quest to train my legs to keep a consistent pace. So I would say its working, pretty much. Even if I tank out at different points, I can regroup later, by refocusing myself, and keeping in sync with the music.
Yesterday I played with little mantras and phrases, trying to find what worked best, things like "lean and mean, running machine", "don't slow down", and all that cheesy crap. It's interesting how willingly the body will follow the mind for no good reason, even when the heat is pressing down and your heartrate is up; the wisdom of the body, which is screaming for shade, for rest, for water, is entirely subsumed into the will of the mind...and on I went, cutting thru from the Seminoles up to 72nd, where I looped up to Stirling, and did the longest stretch back all the way to 95! Whew!!
With days off coming up, I will try one more long loop before the weekend, and see if I can top out at 15 or so. Somewhere in Runner's World was the advise that its not so much mileage as time on your feet. So far, 3 hours is the max....and I need to get it up now to 4....I also read about 'compartment syndrome' where the blood in the lower legs has a tough time circulating, which accounts for soreness and tingling in the legs and feet etc....my legs tend to swell during the day, and in running, its always my lower legs and feet that take the pounding. I wonder if this is an issue, and if so, if continuing to tweak at my diet will help....it's been tough to go hardcore on the protein and lower bread/grain carbs without wanting to consume everything in sight. But I have a feeling that the more I rely on fruits and veggies for carbs the better....
I had an amazing dream last night where I had my own dream therapy in assistance for a traumatic image that has been stuck in my head from a client, for several months now....WILD!! Perhaps with enough miles, all the junk that's gotten stuck in my head will dislodge...and the Dream Masters can have at it.

Mother Nature, Up close and Personal

While the planetary forces exert themselves, I run a 14 miler today, Wow! And pick up on the farthest flung threads of Hurricane Dean's reach, brisk, breezy winds, a short squally shower, sun flitting in and out of fast moving cloud swirls....She races to Jamaica, while Erin now floods Oklahoma, sorry Marlon, and let's not forget the earthquakes, Peru and Indonesia...tho I'm not hearing about that one much,??
Suddenly things have been happening that seemed on the 'menu' for some time, and so it looks like 'earth changes' are going to be part of the script. OK. Then pushing into it will be too, and I could feel that today, despite heat index temps in the 90's.....I took the first stretch, after a bobble around Taft, straight on to University....must be a 6 miler?, then up Davie Rd extension, getting lost at the intersection of corners, I find a back stretch between Sheridan and Stirling, lucky break, it takes me all the way to the Seminoles....and back up to Stirling, great stretch. i hit the little squall in here, just a few minutes, then gone. Over the highway, last break to re-hydrate, then the last big ride all the way along Stirling until I turned to home. I was going to loop all the way to 95....but at this point, I had all the heat I was going to handle. The shoes did great. My feet were sore, but it was tolerable. My legs were heavy, but I could keep the pace and put a little kick at the end, as usual.
Jamaica is preparing for Dean, and I'm looking out over sun-spilled green, ready to crash and watch what else is going on, what touches the outskirts of my world.
My squall, that cooled me outside the Seminole stretch, is on its way around, back to the Carribean. And another arm, of thunder, rain and gusty winds, is gathering itself to fling up to our neighborhood. All in good time.
I need to be part of that atmospheric movement....I run into the air, I push into the winds.....I let myself fall into the arms of the changing day.

dog days of summer

It's hard to believe, looking at photos of my half marathons last winter, that I froze my ass off, dressed in layers, with head gear, gloves and still came in like a drowned and frozen rat across the line. Today, at 6:30 AM, it was well into the 80's, humid, and only got hotter and more moist as the run went on. 8 miles of grueling heat, and all this before 9!! The serious training schedule will begin soon enough, and hopefully by then there will be some let up in the intensity. Meanwhile, I keep my mileage up as much as possible, and acclimate.

It's not long 'tll January. Really.

Every little thing

Good runs are defined by the unexplainable phenomenom of all elements working in harmony; bad runs by the equally mysterious breakdown of parts, be it one or many, doesn't matter, because it only takes one. This week, its a blister on my little toe, right foot. The left foot, nemisis of strains and stresses for most of 2 or 3 weeks, became whole. The right foot, meanwhile, had apparently taken the weight of that timeframe and it was that toe, always landing at the outside edge that finally turned to a little agonizing nugget in the way of my next mile.
Saturday the 14th was an official 'training run' for World Run Day on November 11. I signed up for 10 miles, with an anticipated time of 1:40, which was fast, I knew, for me, if I stopped at all. (folks, I am slow, and not ashamed to admit it....if I do an 11 minute mile thats OK with me.) I put my obligatory visit in with the parents and ran errands first, and did not hit the road until 3PM. The whole time I wondered about running at all- that toe had been pushing out, blistering, reblistering for days. Finally I decided to put myself in the mindset of every great distance runner I could think of and laced up with the thought; what's the worse that can happen? I walk, I run a short ways, I run another day....? It was hothothot and humid. I packed on my bottle of gatorade and extra fruit roll and cash. (Had to learn this lesson the hard way; as a hypoglycemic, energy is the key to surviving any mileage above 6 or so....) I put those first footsteps down and OUCHie ouch ouch, ouch....this was all I heard in my head through my ipod music cadence, but I pushed, pushed up the overpass, pointing towards the beach. A bandana with ice wrapped in it was around my neck and did a remarkable job keeping me cool in the midday heat (thanks, Runners World!). I knew I was favoring that right foot but kept a slow pace as steady as I could. My endurance was fine. I made it to my first stop at Publix to hit the cold water fountain and the A/C. Turned north to Dania Beach Blvd, a new, straight stretch that had me walking the half mile before I hit the beach. It wasn't just my feet by that time. And I was only half-way. I loitered a long time at a convenience store with a gatorade, eating my dried fruit, and watching the local beach traffic in the parking lot, the swimmers, smokers, bikers, drinkers, the wired-looking kids, and their worn-out parents shuffling in flip-flops. My resolve strengthened as I thought of myself on a break in my trek as an adventurer/athlete, slurping down my elixir, ready to get back in to my run. And off I went, parallel the ocean, those wonderful wafting breezes, full of brine and bird calls, poetry of people falling into waves...I was pushing through pain and fatigue, and stopped again in the shade of Surf Road to stretch, and walked to the Snack shop at North Park, my next regroup point. From there, a straight stretch west, and home. I loaded up on water and headed into the sun. I ran/walked this entire last part; the temps throughout were certainly in the high 80's to low 90's. It was insanity to attempt this run. I did it in 3 hours. A cold shower and mountains of food revived me enough to settle me on my floor where I managed to pass the rest of the evening.

And my foot? The insert of my right shoe was damp from the oozing off my toe. I stopped feeling the pain after I hit North Park. That was about mile 7? I still have the blister, and have run 2 more days. My hope is it will 'toughen up' eventually. I am still 'seeing' that marathon, and reading accounts of runners who overcome much more than the disturbances of one toe, one afternoon, one crappy run. My question is, does the marathon 'see' me?

Making a comeback

Naysayers come in all stripes; beware the message "don't- can't- shouldn't- watch out". Of course pain is not the goal. Neither is self-recriminations in any form....."the door is wide open" is the message heard through inner channels, and one I choose to take to heart, as I took to the road again, with the waves of heat massaging me from head to heel as I pounded back out on the roads. Its a new game, not a variation of the old, even if it feels that way. And it seems to be a key in what it takes in my focus right now, not to overlay everything on what comes before. Some things drop away and are done. While others become new trails, broken open by desire, opportunity and motivation. It's still challenging to nail down what makes a run effortless, strong and fearless, and others faltering stumbling messes. The chemistry of one day morphs into the alchemy of another and the solar bursts of old light tumble into us with incessant force, magnetizing us to our purpose. How do we harness any of it, or are we really just responding almost automatically to larger and larger impulses? Every step is a confirmation of my presence in a plan, a tap into the matrix of energy that pulls me along its web like lightening in slow motion. I can, I will, I shall carry myself forward, and find along the way the willing partners who choose the run, the path, the company of hopefulness. We have no other choice. Its forward or nothing. The door is wide open.

setbacks and disappointments

My overconfidence has cost me; its feeling like a stress fracture in the same foot I injured before. I knew it wasn't right on the way to 17th St. Causeway, but I'd made up my mind. I was a mile shy of returning when I had to stop- and walk. A first. All the research is pointing to this...even pool running today was tough if I put too much pressure down on that foot. The pendulum is taking me to the other side of things, it seems, in many ways, with challenges unforseen. It's a blow to my tough resolve to find myself back in a fight to overcome what I thought I'd come out of, a certain plateau of function and ability. Whether its physical, emotional or spiritual, it never comes easy to me. And what most people take for granted and maybe even in me, is thinking its always there, the happiness, the capacity, the endurance to survive and strive. I know its more delicate than that. And a certain amount of luck and timing is involved. So it seems. There is only so much preparation and effort we put in to our training, before factors beyond our control changes outcomes. What happens, is a healing process. And after that, more work. It's over when we stop. But I can continue, one way or another, to find my way.

farther for fast twitching

Put a very respectable 10+ miler in this AM, to the beach, down the broadwalk and back. If increasing distance and going at it cnsistently, pushing that envelope is the key to getting those fast twitch muscle fibers into the game, then mine must have gotten notice by now! I am certainly feeling it. Sunday was 10, yesterday 8 and today 10. I could not have pulled this off before....It was amazing to pull up and over those little overpasses, to cross the intersections one by one, and to cruise home still on my feet. I once did the long loop thru Hollywood and felt I had to crawl that last mile in. One foot in front of the other; it really does work. It seems earlier is better. The heat and humidity are brutal. The sun was already high on the ocean by 7:30AM. So if I'm to stay commited to my routine, then I will need to be up and out as close to 6:30 as possible. It's gonna happen if I make it happen. I will be strong if I put the miles in. Whatever else is happening, this becomes my 'base'....and sets my confidence. Anything is possible as I keep setting those goals and realize them. Going farther, going long.

Full Circle

There is a Japanese runner whose goal is the run marathons in the slowest time possible as part of a spiritual discipline. (see Runner's World June '07) He runs many of them, takes tons of photos and aims to schmooze with as many people along the way as possible. He took his cue from the 'running monks' of Japan, which 'jogged' my memory (no pun intended) of one of my early running crossroads....I met the man who would become my first husband and father of my son in my early 20's. I had just dropped out of college and he was teaching. A reformed party boy, he was a musician who came under the mentorship of an avante garde drummer whose philosophy included a body/mind/spirit approach to art. In quick order I learned about macrobiotic nutrition, organic gardening, Edgar Cayce, meditation, the power of improvisation in many things, metaphysics in all varieties....and yes, that husband-to-be ran! He was tall, lean, intensely ethereal. His other-worldliness and commitment to his lifestyle was what gravitated me towards him. I was a walker back then. I began walking as a kid to escape the 'hot' house and discover the back trails (which still existed then) of my suburban neighborhoods. I continued to ramble long miles and was enamoured of this running phenome. It was then I learned of the running monks whose entire spiritual discipline centered around a routine of spartan diet and running mountain trails ALL DAY EVERY DAY in deep meditation.
So here I am training for what I trust will be my first marathon, reading about this little Japanese dude who runs as slow as he can in every marathon he can get to. Who embodies running monks and brings me the threads of my youth, my 'initiation' into both movement, marriage and spirituality. Even if the marriage did not last, the man I was with gave me lasting gifts. I hope he knows that. Certainly our son is the solid evidence of that, another soul with a love of movement, a glider pilot. I continued to walk for many many years. I walked away from many things, I walked through some tough times, but I never sped up until the time was right, I suppose, and something prompted my feet to lift off the ground.
I've wondered about being slow, and and the obsession with times...like everyone else I pen mine on my bibs and compare my results in my age groups. But I realize now its all coming full circle, its all about the distance. I always knew it was about going long, hanging in and watching as everything unfolds along the way. I almost missed it, lost my footing, fell out. I'm so glad to be able to say I'm still on my feet, in the race, getting stronger by the day, with my focus firmly in place.

the problem with sidewalks

I carefully mapped a new loop, a very solid 8 miler, that starts by taking me over the interstate and looping back to the regular route west and etc. I am running the same basic loop ad nauseum, and stay to the side streets as much as possible, taking to the sidewalks only when necessary. Those sidewalks watch me, hunt me and have grabbed me more than once. I've fallen and almost fallen now a handful of times. I'm getting to know every crevice and stretch of buckled sections, side curves and bumpers, swales and steps...and still when I least expect it, BOOM! Today I cruised over the overpass, the underpass and began the tricky negotiation next to the construction by the gas station when a guy on a bike headed my way just as the sidewalk began its wacky sideways dip. I side-step and catch my left foot right where a brick juts out from the concrete, bending my ankle into my foot....I feel the 'effect'...and keep running on it, no problem thinking, whew! dodged that bullet! And ran the whole 8 miles. Now I have an ice pack on it and am mad as hell....this is the first time I can remember ever traumatizing my ankles in any way and I know how delicate this can be. Apparently I have not made sufficient homage to the sidewalk gods or negotiated a workable contract. Maybe there are magnetic force fields I need to be channeling to elevate my weight just enough to hover above those buckling, mocking sections. Or specially designed shoes that scope out the landscape and sound warnings...how vigilant does a girl need to be?

We try to prepare and make so many 'informed decisions', when to run, and how and with what gear, what do we eat, drink first, during and intend to consume after, how much rest, what attitude and approach, what's our plan. Then it all comes down to a brick and a stretch of concrete. Many atheletes face much more dire consequences from all sorts of accidents and circumstances, either because of risks they take on themselves or by sheer happenstance. But each encounter with the unplanned and spontaneous is still a test of our ability to "take it in stride" and remember the distance and the goal, a much longer place, beyond anywhere we are in this world. Only our minds will limit us, only our attitude can really hold us back.
So once this ice does it job and my aggravation cools down, it will be back to the roads- and yes, those sidewalks- once more.

tough runs and transcendence, not necessarily in that order

Maybe it was the motivation, but on Sunday, the need to put emotional distance between me and the primordial family forces took me out to the road and on the loop I love to run late in the day when I reach the long straight stretch home on Park Road.
Its a 4 laner with a grass divide, and very little traffic. It cruises on and on seemingly forever, a perfect stretch to practice pacing, to go long and fast, rock out to the music and really stretch my legs. The podcast I used was the fastest I have so the entire loop was at max. It was transcendent; I was strong. I flew with the wind and came in to the building in a blinding ball of light. I played out my best energy and troughed since then, apparently pushing to a limit that will take some time to assimilate.
Rest on Monday, with strength training and stretching, then back to the 7's yesterday, today and tomorrow. The mornings are beautiful...edgy with mild turbulent wind, sun, clouds, threatening to rain, backing off, just warm enough to go with minimum clothes (at last) and feel the air all over. I've slogged through both runs so far, but toughing it out....the strength base is there, and whatever those 'fibers' are doing to grow, or twitch or switch or whatever they do, I'm sure with the proper nutrition and rest, it will get there....I'm accumulating pictures, quotes and any source of advice and inspiration for the marathon. It may be far away, but I know one day I will be faced with the reality of signing up for it and having it stare me in the face for real. Then the commitment I profess will be tested....and the time to push through tough times or transcendence arrive.

If I can see it, I can believe it

Many of my cyber pals are marathoners; and I salute you all. Everyone of them gives me the same basic advice which is the ability to believe in the possibility always. And since building the image of something is my forte', this is advice I can relate to, and use more consciously. I see myself sucking up air and light and wind; I see the earth curve to support me. I can scan the insides of my arches, hamstrings, hips and adjust my gait, my pace, and all the while I'm thinking, what if I were mile 15, 18, 20? The pain I feel at the upper miles needs to push on into those miles. The comfort zone below needs to increase. The cushion of spring still in my step needs to extend itself so I can endure what I know follows; brutal pacing through lack of momentum. But today was a good one. I kicked more towards the end, strong, and overcame crushing fatigue, and I ate well this morning too. I found what I needed and even though it wasn't enough to sustain me consistently, I have better overall endurance. I'm seeing the results, and I imagine each of my marathoners crossing their first finish lines thinking what I might think one day soon, that the goal was always there waiting.