I'm ready to do it again (well maybe not right away)

It doesn't look as if I just ran 26.2, or show what I went through to get to the finish line. But it sure captures the feeling of accomplishment and relief.

Ran 2 miles today in the park. Thinking of Ft. Lauderdale A1A half. I must have the bug bad, because not running is just not an option. I'm itching to get new shoes and train.

The runner's high

The deep fatigue, endless appetite and ache in my legs and hip are the legacy of the marathon. I went to bed early last night, after going in to work to conduct group, and collect the many good wishes from coworkers and clients. I knew I had another rest day due me, but by the time morning rolled around, I was stiff, cranky and realized I missed just being out on my feet. So I dressed in my gear and decided to just take a walk around the neighborhood with the ipod and enjoy the air, and see what it felt like again, to move, to get in a rhythm, and before I knew it, my feet were leaving the ground and I began a gentle jog....

Tunes I had during the race were playing in my head; my legs felt amazingly light and strong. I could feel the hitch in my hip, but I don't think its a serious injury, I think something is wound too tight or out of balance. I'm excited about the prospect of working with a certified rolfer, referred to me from my massage therapist. I have put body work on the back burner for many many years while I came up to this level of athleticism. And yes, I may still be a barely sub 6 hour marathoner, but I am a marathoner none the less, and I am still and want always to be a runner. My old injuries, the fibromyalgia can be resolved, I know it. I sense the level of endurance and strength I am capable of. Speed may not be my game, but somewhere inside me is a long distance runner. And I proved that to myself this weekend.

The slow moving over the neighborhood roads today, in an easy, steady rhythm was the animal in me, moving out, moving over the landscape of my life. I had a thought that this strange and nutty activity allows for any and every level of emotional outlet for me, from anger to ecstasy. The freedom running gives me to be totally myself is the gift I can never appreciate enough. To accomplish, to endure, to express, to nurture, to increase, to participate, to revel in my own great living. If I inspire others who want to feel the same, it is all worthwhile.

Welcome to your right body, and mind.

It's real

I was there. I'm reading the articles, viewing the posted photos in the Herald and Sun-Sentinel, and still receiving well wishes. Took a short walk around the block to feel my legs again, which are stiff and sore but still operational...lol.
I think I'm dreaming until I see the bib, and the medal. Would you do it again? Tom asked. In a heartbeat.

ING Miami Marathon Race Report 1-27-08

Exactly 12 hours ago I was waking up. Amazingly enough, I managed to sleep, and was in the middle of a dream about Michael as a kid when the alarm went off at 3:45 AM. Temps looked great; no rain, just cool enough for the extra layer, everything laid out, organized and ready to go. Cruising down 95, it was a fast trip to downtown and a flat rate lot near the Arena. Incredibly, just like at the Expo, I walk up just as all the elite runners are coming in, swinging easy legs in uniforms, all going to the same start line. Being early gave me a chance to really see the whole scene develop, as the pre-dawn dark became illuminated with the sights and noises of a 20k plus crowd. I was in the corral with a Ft.Lauderdale runners team mate, who it turns out, was sharing her first marathon as well, and also nervous as hell. Another good sign; a connection. Should have peed again; it took many many minutes to get everyone across that start line; I had to wait until mile 2, over the MacArthur Causeway, to go. But by then the lovely fingers of dawn were painted above the fully lit cruise ships shimmering on the water, and the magic, I knew had begun.

The run to the beach and up was good. The hitch in my right hip began early, however, a very big and major drag. I kept looking for a pace, a gait that would help, and nothing really ever relieved it; now I know this must be addressed if I ever hope to try this again. Anyway, the sun came up fully up at the beach, and all the usual cast of characters were out and about, the homeless, including a guy sitting on the street next to the course burning sticks of incense, the late night partyers who shouted half-hearted encouragement over their beers, the clumps of charity supporters, and families, friends with signs and clackers and bells, and the volunteer staff everywhere. What an amazing job! Each aid table, every corner, all the police and officials....and the runners. I fell back in the pack because of that first pit stop, and spent the entire first half trying to get free of crowds. I never appreciated how much I love to run because I am alone. I am a person who relishes solitude, appreciates the company of my own thoughts and the expansiveness of energy when unencumbered by others. Maybe this is what appeals to me so much about the endeavor. But the course was crammed with many struggling folks like me, and we all seemed to trip over each other as we plodded along. Still, when I had the chance to really see around me, the islands of causeways on the side, the sailing boats, the grey/blue hues that swirled around the bridges were the conduit. I realized, after mile 10 or so, that I had a lot of race to run. But somewhere there abouts, I managed to fall in with a woman running my exact pace, and without thinking we synced up for the ride to the split.
She was running the half, I told her I was doing the full; she said "I'm honored to run with you."

Little did she know that inside me the argument was raging. The half would be sweet, it was in reach. It would all be over. I tried to picture doing what I'd just done AGAIN. Nothing was comfortable. My time sucked. But as the split came up and the street volunteers shouted "half!" pointing left and "full!", pointing right, I knew it was impossible not to try. I had to see what it was like.

The first few miles after the split, out of the dingy underbelly of downtown Miami, was a mental regroup; there was no relief I realized. I kept trying to place myself on one of my training runs, saying to myself, this is mile 14 at.....this is what I do, this is how I feel. The course wound down into Coconut Grove and the weather, by then, had turned blustery, with intermittent rain, as the front came in. Not too terrible, I've run in worse. But enough to change the vibe into something more serious and surreal. The neighborhoods of the Grove gave me plenty of opportunity to take small chunks out of the distance, as the road ran round and through the downtown area. Once I was at 16 I said out loud "It's just a 10 now, I run 10 all the time," but on the other side of the downtown district I was desperately counting down each mile. Every little distraction was a moment of relief; the street dancers at the intersection, the dog-walkers and their dogs, little kids at their front drives cheering, the traffic cops with nods of encouragement. I found stretches of road I could tuck myself into and ride, and did that pretty successfully until we were out the other side of the Grove. But then it was only mile 20.

Just north, the track took a detour onto the Rickenbacker. This is familiar territory, but I had already been walking on and off, and it was mile 22. I pictured myself doing this training run, heading back down to Bill Boggs park, and tried taking that mile, to the turnaround, in one go. Had to begin walking again, while on the way, a big Minnesota guy was at my pace and struck up a conversation. It was his 4th. He was very supportive- all normal, he says, everything I'm feeling, and we agree at mile 23, the turn back, we will give it our last go, 3 more miles. And so I hunker down into what's left of my stride and away I went for my 'last race'.

The stretch back north after the turn was a relief, just knowing I was heading home, but exactly how far? That 3 miles felt like double, easy. I kept the pace and tried to ignore my hip, my feet, my shoulders, my legs and resisted their attempt to cramp or buckle on me. I kept looking for the rhythm, and even if it meant a crawl, I kept it up, mile 24, 25, and suddenly I saw a marker; I was in my last mile.

Seemed as if the field thinned, and all of us were struggling. There was one last overpass; I walked. Then around the corner the metal barracades began, the finishers were walking by, and lining the route were people still interested in cheering us on. I realized, by then, it was doable, it was within my reach. I don't think I quite believed it until then, until I heard the crowds, the megaphone voices and saw, over to the left, the final chute and the finish line with its orange and blue balloons.

People were ecstatic for me! Strangers! Shouting my name and cheering....I began to cry (not the first time) and put one last boost on for the line. I hear, over my shoulder, the announcer say my name. It doesn't register for a moment that he's talking about me; they are announcing people as they come in. And for a few moments I am running absolutely alone, and throwing my arms up, crossing the line.

Water, chip removal, and finally medal. wow.... cookies, bagels. Forcing myself to walk, past the clumps of families and friends, until I could get my bearings to leave. I felt the magic of everyone's support, and often called upon it- out loud. I shouted at you, Dave, a couple times, to get in my head and help me out, later in the miles. I had Michael, and CeeCee and Vitae/Margot on my mind earlier, at the split especially, telling me to Go For it!! Tom, with a gentle, hearty laugh. My other friends and coworkers. And of course the family, traveling through the area where Et, Roni and everyone lives. Naturally the first call was to Dad. That was fun. I know it knocks him out to imagine me doing this. And so unexpected.

I lost track of where the car was, and wandering around brain-dead, I wondered if that was the legacy: runner loses car, forgets parking due to extreme exertion. But eventually, I stumbled on it. I tried to pour my tangled, mangled body into the car and hit the road for home. 12 hours. 6 on the course (almost) and another 6 before and after. The super, uber runners were no doubt napping by the time I was making my mind up about the race. But I was entrenched in a time of my own. The time, by the way, being 5:56:51.

So not only did I finish, I came in just under 6 hours, which was my true goal. I tried to leave off attachment to it many many times, as I struggled along. But somehow, like everything else in this experience, there was a flow I just needed to follow. In the end, it all fell into place.

And I got the medal to prove it.

Every Step Is Forward

Today's DailyOM (not my writing, but so appropriate....)




January 24, 2008

Every Step Is Forward
No Going Back


There are times when we feel that we are spinning our wheels in the mud in terms of our spiritual progress. This can be especially true following a period of major growth in which we feel as if we’ve gained a lot of ground. In fact, this is the way growth goes—periods of intense forward movement give way to periods of what seems like stagnation. In those moments when we feel discouraged, it’s helpful to remember that we don’t ever really go backward. It may be that we are at a standstill because there is a new obstacle in our paths, or a new layer to get through, but the hard work we have done cannot be undone.

Every step on the path is meaningful, and even one that seems to take us backward is a forward step in the sense that it is what we must do to move to the next level. In addition, an intense growth spurt requires that we rest for a time in order to fully integrate the new energies that have been liberated by our hard work. When we feel we are not making progress, we can encourage ourselves to take a moment to rest. We can meditate more, feed ourselves well, and get extra sleep. Before we know it, we will be spurred on to work toward the next level of our development, and this rest will make sense then as something we needed in order to continue.

Once the sun rises, it doesn’t go backward but instead follows its path in one direction. It may appear to stand still for a moment in time, or to move more slowly at some point or another, but really it is steadily moving forward on its path. We are the same way, and once we have moved through something we can never really go back. We may be resting or revisiting issues that seem old, and it’s natural to feel stuck, but in truth we are always taking the next important step forward on our path.

(true) spirit of the marathon

I double checked the time for the movie, Spirit of the Marathon, before leaving for work, attempting to time out the day while accepting the possibility that I would miss it due to my evening schedule of clients. Ethically I can't manipulate that, or cancel a client, so I was prepared to just think....of the experience. As the late afternoon clients began to come in, I got a call from my last appointment of the day, canceling.
I realized at that moment, that the gods were with me. I might make it after all.

I have found my clinical groove the same way I search for my steady gait out on the road. I was able to communicate, negotiate, and navigate my way through the amazing amalgam and constellation of issues, feelings, ideas, presentations, protestations, and a thousand instances of interactions which call for my intervention. It is amazing, when I hit the rhythm, how it flows. And so it goes. My 4 o'clock, my five, and soon I'm in my last hour and timing minutes, knowing if I am out the door on time, I will make it, I'll see it, I'll be there for the whole thing.

I put together every loose thread, then down 95 I headed. At the theatre, the oldsters wanted to kibbitz and complain, but I was on a mission. I found the theatre, found the seat, took a final pee, settled in, and here we go: it was the 2005 Chicago marathon, and Deena Kastor's story of victory was displayed, the #2 men's finisher from Kenya and a handful of wanna be's like me, first timers and old timers, and it was MAGIC. As expected, I cried often. I related to everything. I felt all their emotions and realized I will SOON have my own experience of the marathon. Everyone runs their own race. And yet everyone runs together. Every effort is acceptable and honorable. The best cross the same line as the worst. Just finishing is a major victory in itself.

The paperwork is laid out, a shopping list for Whole Foods written; the chiropractor and organizing is tomorrow, while Saturday is the final massage and Expo/packet pick-up. There are other Big Mysteries afoot, and I realize now the alignment of energy illustrates the preparation, and the power of great events. And in a person's life there are few landmarks; benchmarks truly, wholly owned. And this is one of mine. This is one of mine.

Everything changes when you finish a marathon.
-from Spirit of the marathon

5 days

"Forming a new world religion is difficult and not particularly desirable. However, in that love is essential to all religions, one could speak of the universal religion of love."

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama


According the the forecast, Sunday looks like a good day...cool temps in the AM, and no rain. I've been training in very blustery, rainy weather for this last taper, and it's been a big drag. If there's a benefit, it's that I get a harder workout, and toughening up in the elements. But I am not fond of running in the rain, so if the day can hand me clear, calm conditions, I would be so grateful.

I want to eat, sleep and not think about anything....and of course everything is on my mind. I have 3 very full work days before Friday, which I took off to begin the final preparations: chiropractor, expo and packet pick-up; Saturday, final massage and food, organizing, packing and SLEEP.

Yesterday's run was fine, fluid. Today's was dragging.... I don't know what to expect or how to corral the bundle of nerves and muscles to coordinate together in this effort. It's just 5 more days, and then we'll find out....

Final Week and Instructions

The final instructions arrived in my inbox yesterday, one week out from the race. 3 pages of expo, pre-race, post-race, parking, packet, course, minutae which made my eyes glaze. I came in from the last of the long runs, logging just short of 14 and 1/2 miles, as I loop out to University and back on Arthur, Thomas Streets. Thanks to Mark at Planet Massage, and his intuitive, healing hands, I was more comfortable overall, especially the first 4-5 miles. I looked for my cruising speed, and checked form. But by the time I hit Arthur and the straight stretch home, I could feel the ache in my hips and upper thighs begin, and I knew; a world of pain awaited me on the 27th.

I finished up yesterday and mentally tried to add 12 miles. That's pushing past pain and discomfort miles, gritting my teeth through every step miles. I'm not sure how to approach this, or whether walk breaks will help me negotiate the pressure of consistent pounding. But I know there's no more room for mental build-up; it's practically here, and I'm petrified all over again.

I'm diving into this as a solitary adventure after all. Everyone I'd hoped could be available is not. Crossing the line to my own good congratulations, if I make it, will need to be the reward. I'm having a tough time with this, but it's the way it shaped out, and there's nothing I can do about it now. It will be odd that one of the greatest accomplishments of my life will go unnoticed in the crowd. I need to get my head out from that image, and back to the excitement of the race. I need to focus on making my plans organized, to reduce the stress. I especially need to remember how great it feels at mile 7 or 8 before the pain sets in, when the rhythm becomes automatic and my head gets free of all concerns, and suddenly it's just pure motion, and air, and light.

Somewhere inside me is a distance runner. I have endured more than this getting to where I am today. I need to remember the athlete inside me who understands what it means to hang in, hang tough and comprehend the significance of the journey. Somewhere is a finishing line I am meant to cross, and whether anyone witnesses it or not, there will be people ready to offer a well-meaning congratulations. And I can be proud, regardless. I am finally on my way.

If Paula can do it, so can I

After winning the NYC marathon (again), Paula Radcliffe heads back to her homeland in England to tackle winning the London marathon (again). Paula is my hero. In my fantasy of myself as 'super-runner' I picture myself as Paula....lean and long-legged, with those fluid, beautiful strides that eat up the miles....great-hearted determination taking her all the way in ahead of thousands and thousands of runners, and across the line.

I am 10 days out from Miami. Today was a relaxed 6-ish. After yesterdays drills, I feel sore and tired, and I'm not sleeping as well as I should. My caseload is maxed and I'm behind in paperwork. The constant din of clients needs is in my ear, waking me up at night with reminders in my head to do this, and that, and that...a sure sign that it's all bleeding through my boundaries.

In the back of every moment is that early morning alarm, and preparations to set off for the starting line....I am so ill-prepared, it seems, and yet, there's nothing more I can do to make it better. I put in the training, the time and effort, and in the last week to come, I hope to just take care of myself as best I can.

Whatever else the universe has cooked up for me, I trust it's benevolent. I call on those forces which have wisely guided me thus far to take me all the way in. The journey may be solitary, but it was necessary to build my strength, stamina and reserves...after this, truly ANYTHING is possible.

If Paula can do it, and thousands of other women who are sisters, daughters, mothers, lovers, friends....then so can I.

Finding my Cruising Speed

It wasn't as long as I'd hoped....apparently, when I got lost last weekend, I added another few miles off the main loop adding the new block didn't make up for....but yesterday I still ran just shy of 21 miles.
The weather was not going to fight me this time; balmy and beautiful, at times a little warm, but scattered clouds at intervals brought the temps to tolerable levels. I dressed in the same pair of shorts and tops I'd wear for similar circumstances on race day, and only carried extra money and a power bar. I took the first stretch to John Williams Park in a mental fog, just meandering in my own head, aiming for that first big stop at Publix in Cooper City. Everything felt fine, although my energy was flagging. Work has been intense, crammed with clients and low-grade chaos. The attention to manage my time and the needs of others is always delicate business. So when I finally find myself out on the straight stretches working my legs out, thinking of anything and everything, I find the space of free form liberating, where the motion, rhythm and emotion become tied into a loose dance, and just moving forward is all that matters.

Thanks to those drills, I could feel the difference in my level of endurance by the time I reached Publix. Took my time at my break and set out once more this time to Hiatus and what is the longest western reach before heading back east. I took Taft in one big bite to University, cutting past the halfway mark (mile 13) and the toughest part. I know now this is where my race will be. By this time my body wants to take a break, feels its done its hard work thanks very much. I can feel the fight between that 13 and the next....and the motivation I have to muster to begin another race. It's the middle that will kill me....So at every stretch I could, where the road would let me, I focused on my gait, my stride, my rhythm. I looked for the ways my body talked to me about movement and attempted to work with it. At one point, with the ache in my shoulders bothering me, I felt the 'chi' between my hands molded through my solar plexus, kneading its way in my core with my footfalls...loosening up my arms, allowing my shoulders to swing through. At other times, I felt the dissociative pull of floating just past myself, as a response to pain, or to the pleasure of connecting with it, not sure which...and the happy disorientation wondering exactly where I am....And on the last stretch home, the happy abandon of a final kick. I still had it in me to break hard for a mile or so down Thomas, pretending to hear the rush of crowds and runners passing through the chute. I looked for faces that would not be there who would smile at my coming, knowing all along I was on my way.

It's another 5 miles, I know. And they say it's the crowds that bring you in. Regardless of where they stand, there are reasons in my heart for this run. I run to find my cruising speed where all motion ceases to be conscious, and the winds take me up in their arms with gratitude to lift my burden from the earth. I run to take myself on a journey of discovery where anything is possible, and no matter where I find myself on the course, it becomes a good place, the potential for the next mile.

I have the confidence now, although it's still a mystery, those last miles, but maybe that's poetic. There are many threads in life that have question marks as the process continue to unfold. We may force them for resolution, but they will unfold in their own time. Not having those final miles to me yet seems justified. I will earn them on race day.

"You are infinitely lovable, infinitely desirable, because the One who most desires and loves you is also infinite."

-- Deepak Chopra

A lovely 10

Those drills did me some good; as I rounded the corner to take Stirling in one long straight stretch to the Seminoles and finally a stretching out on the open road.....
after a quick stop at the park, it was on to Thomas and home....the weather was picture perfect, with a breezy coolness in my face and pressing against my legs. It felt wild and strong and free. I ran hard the whole way in. I wanted to dance. Lift off the earth and take the wind under my arms...suddenly I've embraced the run.

Anything is Possible

I know you're listening, so be clear.
Know your heart.
Find your feet, and the direction they want to go.
Then go there.

hills and drills

If only the weather would be exactly like today....I dress in loose shorts and a tank top, and the air feels feather light and fresh...clear skies and sun....and the only task is to find all the hills I can. I take the overpass first, one side then the other for warm-up, then on to the park, where the low rolling grounds provide perfect paths to throw my legs up, and down, up and down, using muscles I don't typically feel, pumping my heart rate - and my arms- up. And in between, lovely bursts of speed up and back in the straight aways....letting it all loose.....until finally finding a quiet bench by the lake where I can stretch and undo the kinks.

It was an hour, more or less. I'm usually out at least one and a half to 2 hours when I run a route; so it felt kind of odd....at the same time, I recognize the need to respect the distance I'm about to tackle. I am eating, sleeping and preparing for that last long run on Saturday, when I hope to nick the corner on 22, and maybe creep just a bit closer to the actual mileage.

Meanwhile, I stare at the course plotted on the map. I try not to think too much about where I will be, I want it to be fresh and new. But it's an awful long way to the finish....

I watch all the time as people struggle with their commitments to goals, and changes of all sorts, meandering their way through the trails in their heads, hearts and environments. I work with people every day helping them sort out the difference between real challenges and excuses. And I've learned the difference in myself. If it wasn't for running, I doubt I would have turned the tenacity in my heart towards the concrete; I would have stayed lost out there, trying to manufacture more false rewards and gods. Instead, I have an honest assessment of my strengths and abilities, and I come by it by rights, with all my hard work, my passion and heart.
I had to learn it step by step, from one mile to 22....and one day, to the finish line of the greatest race any newbie can hope to run..

There are a lot of races out there today. Barack and Hillary, to name a few....running for change, to capture the spirit of the times. I run for peace, for purpose, for planetary healing. It only takes one.

January 24th

3 days before I run my first marathon, the Powers that Be are delivering up a "one night only" movie event, a documentary about the marathon..........!!!!!!!!

For all you runners who have followed the blog, if you haven't heard about this, it is a MUST SEE. For any of you who have dipped into my world and try to understand what all the hoopla is all about, it is a MUST SEE.

I am so excruciatingly excited....just to watch the trailer moves me to tears.

Running strong, running long.....
the spirit of the marathon is capturing me.

Got it

When I woke on Saturday, a gusty, rainy day waited for me. I planned on 20+ miles. I stood at the back door and watched waves of breezy rain trail through the parking lot. Donning my running gear, I mused over the hours of fighting through the winds and cold, what to wear for the water, how to cover the ipod....and all the while thinking, couldn't I just go back to sleep? One more contemplation on the front stoop, and one more clothes change...another light layer between the top and under shirt. And with one deep breath, its off I go.

I had good endurance to Publix, the first 10. And though tired, I still had my motivation. I caught 2 squalls on the way in, and felt wet and cold. On the way out, I stretched the outer loop an extra block before heading back east and the uber-long straight away home; except this time, I detoured to Johnson, making the extra 3+miles in the run. A head wind was in my face all this distance....for more than 10-12 miles at regular intervals I pushed into cold, gusty and rainy winds....several times I shouted, screamed and pummeled my arms into those winds...but I made a pack to myself to keep moving....I even got lost off Johnson, trying to find a way back up to Taft.... and got so disoriented I had to ask a motorist which way, finally, was east again. Miraculously, after what seemed like the toughest stretch, I made it in to civilization and University, where I rewarded myself with a major stop. I needed to stretch my legs and get my mind mentally around the 2 big stretches left- the miles into 441, and the last big leg from there home. The 441 stretch is segmented by chunks of major blocks, and I counted them down...McKinley, McKinley, Roosevelt etc...until I was crossing over towards Thomas. By then I had well towards 18? and I was actually finding my late stride. It was somewhere around here that I finally found the marathon; somewhere in me I knew I had the distance in me...and as each segment melted away I could feel my legs dig in to the corner of the next block and take their stride with certainly, staying on my feet, keeping the gait, even with the discomfort and stiffness settling in. The best blocks are always the last; but this time, it wasn't to end the pain, it was to enjoy the freedom from absolute meltdown. I needed to stop, yes, but I didn't have to. And when I saw on the route that it was just shy of 22 and 1/2, I felt triumphant, as if I'd already run the race. It was done. If squally, cold weather didn't take me out, if I could stay on my feet 5 plus hours to do this run, I can handle the task...I am so much tougher than I think....

There are only so many ways we are given to truly test ourselves in this life...some come to us unbidden, and some we choose willingly, to pit ourselves against a vision, a potential, a possibility, or a probability....to extend our range of experience and our limits, to conquer fear. I am no longer afraid of the race. I am a respecter, a navigator, a willing companion of the miles. I hope to befriend the road in Miami, and make it fall in love with me, and save me from getting lost in doubt, once I have it to myself; just me a few bunch of thousands of other running fools....

21 days. Dave says, speed work and long run - 1 (or 2?) left. Eat. sleep. Stay focused. Have heart.

First hurdles of '08

Cold, record-breaking temps have arrived in sunny south Florida. A chat with 'Coach Dave' last night helps me to adjust all my expectations at this point in my training.
As I describe the achy left ankle, the struggle to run in the cold, the fatigue and stress from the last few weeks, he finally concurs that the time is right to back off.
Not run??? Take a couple days, rest and regroup. Then Saturday do the 2nd of 2 last long runs....go for 20+....you might be surprised, he says, what rest might do to help you feel refreshed. And I realize I have been pushing 50 mile weeks and sometimes more for months now....definitely time to PAY ATTENTION.

I love that I was able to ruminate about work and sleep more last night without the pressure of having to face the brittle dawn. I have an hour or so to compose my head for the hearing today at work. Just me and some high powered administrators and the government center downtown, sorting out the mischief a co-worker has created. My notes are in order, and hopefully my emotions will stay that way too. Last night, after group, a client who was no longer in that phase waited for me to give me a card for New Years. This has been one of my most difficult cases; a young man, a serious addict, immigrant, survivor of neglect, abuse, mental illness and trauma, who is starting this week at NSU with the hopes of entering the health profession. The card was a heartfelt message of thanks- and I'm taking it with me today as my 'secret weapon'. No matter what the 'suits' may try to do to catagorize me, label me or attempt to distort my motives, this card sums up my commitment and passion for my work. I put the same heart into everything I do; I can't distinguish.

It has always been a run for my life. Never having the solid ground other folks seem to take for granted, the simple strengths of connection, of being in this world are powerful mystery and magic to me. I will remember who I am as I sit at that conference table today. I am a runner. I don't give up. I persevere, see it through. You will see me soon, at the finish line. 24 days.

27 Days....

....to change this......to the phenomenal goal of a full marathon. With time counting down, New Year's Eve isn't nearly the benchmark as this number. The one factor I took to heart was using the turn of time's chapter to benchmark a clean slate in my attitude, to have hope and heart, to honor Ryan Shay, and all my running heroes by hanging in, hanging tough, and seeing it through. This month's Runner's World is filled with amazing photos and stories from the Olympic Trials, the Chicago and NYC marathons. I cry every time I see the pictures of Paula, the Ryans, Meb, Abdi...one shot of the lead bunch of the men's race in the NYC marathon seems to catch every one of the runners in mid-stride; they are floating, the position of their bodies is fluid and full of grace. I stare at that picture and will my hobbled, achy body to take note, to absorb the energy of youthful ambition, limitless energy contained within the fragile human forms that take to the streets. I burn the impression of time standing still as they fly past their limits, easy on towards their goal. If they can do it, I can do it. If they can put their lives on the line, the least I can do is...show up.

So I took myself out today for my first run of 2008. Timed right before the front coming in that will plunge us into freezing temps, the sky was warm and blue, with a beautiful cool breeze kicking up. I wasn't planning to go long, but I meandered a bit and probably logged a 9-10er. I took a gel, and halfway stopped to get water and take the calories at the small kids park on 58th. It seemed to do me some good; or maybe it was the lack of pressure. But the entire run felt light and good. I helped myself fall back in love with this strange pursuit and realized how fierce in my struggle is the quest to this passion. It takes putting my entire body in motion, in semi-flight to free my head. Not every time but most times. The morning brought me around the top side of the Park and home. The aches and pains are there, but so is the smoldering desire. I understand some of it. I don't yet know what those final 6-8 miles contain for me. But I get where they come from in their quest for this groundless place of being that pulls those elite into an embrace with the very air.
It is a moment I can have, if I allow it. In 27 days, I hope to find a few.

The pressures are great. But so is the potential, always, for great and wonderful changes....holding on to my hat, and my hope. And happy to have all of you out there sharing the ride.

27 days.

"Waking, sleeping, dreaming, know you as light."
- Tantric teaching
thanks, Steven