Now if I can only do it when still

"Motion becomes my mantra. Through it, I gradually divest myself of worry and anger, of fear and depression - and the reasons for them. "

George Sheehan

Lost in Ft. Lauderdale; mileage unknown

Saturday, I base at Hugh Birch State Park with high hopes of doing the Big Loop in Ft. Lauderdale, the one that goes across the 17th St. Causeway, up into downtown and back east into the park. And it was a beautiful day. What I forgot was spring-breakers and vacationers in general jamming up A1A, streets, sidewalks, beaches; So as I took off south, I was anxious to get out of the crowds. And heat. Low energy, low gear, but I persevere in a kind of hypnotic gait, taking the causeway slowly, stopping on the other side at a Walgreens for some sort of super high-energy drink. Full of niacin and other B's among other things. It really seems to work, though, so off I head towards Federal and my right turn north. One block shy, I look to see if the side streets go through and decide to ditch the main drag. The route takes me past modest condos, a lovely cemetery, and starts to wind into a neighborhood of houses as I pass block by block aiming for Broward, Las Olas, something. I hit a stretch of water and decide to take a right. This will be a critical error, since there is, apparently no way for me to regain the other side of that stretch of intracoastal; for the next many miles I loop, skip and redo too many streets to mention, all lovely, all without fail no where near where I'm trying to get.

Ft. Lauderdale, in its heart, is a city of water. Like Venice. I love this aspect of it; I imagine myself living in one of those old nouveau houses right on the edge of water, of canals winding in and around lone streets, curving under arched bridges. Somehow, even in modest waters, high class yachts berth. It's a strange sight to see. A city of boats. I tried another short cut parallel to 17th trying for the beach, and get stuck at a marina. I take a bathroom break and have to hike it all the way back to the stoplight to make the turn to 17th. The exhaustion must have been getting to me by then, because I tripped and sprawled on the sidewalk. Scraped a knee and my pride as I picked myself up and began the slow jog to the causeway. I made it to the top in time for the bridge to open, and got to watch as the sailboats and little cruisers made their way through, waving to the boaters, stretching and catching the stiff breezes at the top of the rise. It takes a long time for slow little boats to come through....and when I finally take off down the other side, I am ready to be done with this run.

There are miles to go, up and up to the south beach area, cutting over for water, and grinding in for the stretch to Sunrise, a seemingly never ending stretch of a few miles I remembered running for the finish at the half-marathon, running like my life depended on it. This time, I was over-heated and over-tired. The beachies were swarming around me and all I could think about was my car, my water, my food.
Finally I come into the park from the beach side, and take the mile down the park road in a nice, steady, quiet jog. I'm amazed to still be running. Each time I'd stop I felt like I'd never run another step. But sometimes it's more comfortable to run than walk. Hugh Birch is a lovely little oasis of wilderness. I watch the sky through the canopy of trees and take the last curve before hitting the parking lot and, mercifully, the car.

For a while, I take my blanket and provisions and camp by the banks of the intracoastal to watch the boats blow by. I eat everything I have. I use the picnic table as a kind of stretch table and work out as many kinks as I can. Finally I lay with fatigue like a cocoon over me, and wrap myself into blissful silence and stillness. I can hear the rustle of palm fronds, the engines of boats and the slapping of the wake against the concrete wall. The sun, which had baked me dry, was peeking through the trees, and there was no thought, no person to please, no problem to solve, no action to do.

It may have been an hour or so by the water. It was easily 2-3 hours out on the run. I estimate, all together somewhere between 10-15 miles, at least. That's time well-spent to get back my head, claiming it from the crush of cries and demands. There is a sweet serenity to my solitude. And I am happy to protect it, enjoin it, run with it for as long as I can.

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Big Dreams, Big Challenges

"I like Thinking Big. If you're going to be thinking anyway, you might as well Think Big." -- Donald Trump


It's no surprise to learn how many significant holidays have fallen around this spring equinox, and with my birthday coming up, the energy of change is all around. With change, transition, with transition, discomfort, while patterns shift and what was reliable becomes elusive.

Big miles, big hopes, big setbacks. The pain in my leg continues; my overall mileage is down. I still have ultra-distance inside me, but the changes in my body are for rolling over and catching more sleep. I still want to change the world, but I'm having trouble changing my own life. The dream of Big Love is still very much alive, but it keeps getting cracked over the head by hard reality.

Still, I'm an Aries, and we dream Big; the bigger the better. I have only to look at Michael for my inspiration. My fly boy, my glider into unknown skies, who took himself up into the air and owns the risk of the transparent winds, winding his way from one breathless landscape to the next. We are linked in our mutual desire to Go Long, Dream Big and take on the challenges that will get us to the other side of any struggle. If only I can hang on.

I don't have to see with my eyes

"Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."
--Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


I have been dreaming hard my whole life. I have a vivid inner vision and landscape, parallel plots, and whether awake or asleep I see many different things. I can dream my future, I can feel the pulse of my life. Whatever I do or dream I can, I begin, I begin again, anew, another time. It's not lost on me that times of sacrifice are celebrated. Those are the times, and this is what I'm seeing.
And if I can hold it close I will unleash the power, and magic of transforming, from world to world, away.

Against the Wind

"In the Midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you."
-- Deepak Chopra


Who said there's no spring in Florida? No matter which way I ran, there was a stiff wind in my face. They say running into the wind is the equivalent of running hills; that said, I must have run 6 miles of hills today. Somewhere in the middle, where I took a break at the small children's park off 58th for water, I felt something 'give' in my bad leg, and miraculously, I think whatever band or bind or bulge has plagued me released!!

Maybe it was the winds. Maybe it was the lift in my heart. Maybe, despite the "movement and chaos" there is a lovely, quiet "stillness" in my spirit; and even as I lift into joy or anticipation or the challenge of my everyday life, the winds do not break me, they take me to another level.

Honoring the Path of Non-violence

Tibet is much on my mind. As protests escalate, following the 50th year of Chinese occupation, even the Dalai Lama appears conflicted about the path to follow. On NPR, a Tibetan exile was interviewed, and shared this split between the older followers of DL, and the younger folks who have lived under occupation and say "enough."

What do we do when we find obstacles in our way? Do we push through or explore the terrain hoping to find a way around? There are many peoples of the world who are trying to find their way through oppression. The oppression of the mind is the most cunning of all, however, and what we choose to do about it, to press through our assumptions seems to hold a key. The DL is free in his mind. And as such, he is hard pressed to demand that someone imprisoned in their beliefs can be modified. As a therapist, I know the powers of persuasion. Let me at the Chinese, and I will try to move the mountain of selfishness that is the root of all empire.

I ran hills and drills today, and it was nice, great to be out in windy weather, and fighting against the obstacles I seek out to make me strong. We are flung into the world to work our way back out. It's a peculiar system, but it seems to do the job.

gathering my strength

Time to lay it down, the pressure of attempting to meet a certain number, miles in this week, time out, lengths of sprints, hills, repeats, loops. Apparently the message of my leg pain is, just lay off. So today, while the afternoon got away from me and the rain clouds came in, I just stayed in, stretched, watched movies, and thought about running. There is too much stuff around that needs a place; photos, bibs, the amazing amount of detritus of running. I want to make a 'poster' of my marathon stuff- and I need to display the half. Some good shots were had out of that, and I'll need the inspiration to build back into serious mileage. I'm still at it, still looking forward, to whatever new experience it will bring. For the dark parts in me that are still looking for the light are magically exposed when I have plenty of time to air them, move them, shake them up. The rhythm captures the voice of all the dreams still swirling around my head.

Going long, taking a break

Both Saturday and Sunday, I went long. Longer Sunday when I hopped onto the loop that took me north of Sheridan to Dania Beach Blvd, on over to the Beach, down the Broadwalk to Hollywood, and west until I hit the neighborhoods that wind up to my place. They've improved the sidewalks on DBB; now I have a nice straight stretch up to the bridge that spans the intracoastal. Hadn't seen the beach/ocean in some time....the depth of the blue took my breath away! And the winds were cool and crisp winding through too many people crowding the walkways. It was a relief to hit Tyler and that long mile or 2 into Hollywood, which on a Sunday is sleepy/crazy with traffic not paying enough attention to nuts like me, running up the road.

I was intensely sore. My hip was screaming the whole way. What was a good run Saturday turned into a forced march Sunday. 2 days off, Monday and Tuesday and I hope to be back out tomorrow, for a smooth 6-8. But you know what? I loved every tortured minute...and I missed it today....I was squirrelly and squirmy- I just need to be moving. Otherwise I start to feel like I harden into fired clay.

We are made to move. We are animals. And our brains are wired to take us out, and down the road, the path, the trail. In search of....

Ft. Lauderdale A1A Half Marathon photos

The pictures tell the story....I can still remember what it felt like to make the circuit of Hugh Birch park with 3,4 miles to go, and digging deep to keep some semblance of a pace up. I was happy to flash that peace sign, and to put a sprint on for the line. The clock time is not chip time, since it takes a while to get out of the starting corral, but it looks good nonetheless, and felt even better!!!

Sunday runs

There can be no doubt; my favorite runs are Sunday long runs. My favorite days are when I get up with a loose list of things to do, and manage the time for the day as it rolls along, with a rhythm of its own. The window for the Sunday run tends to come later, and it's sometimes the only day of the week this happens in a relaxed fashion. If the timing is right, I am heading out the door in a late afternoon sun, just before shadows are getting long, but the warmth of the day, if too oppressive, has come down. The promise of evening is sneaking up and traffic is light; it often feels as though I have the roads to myself, and I am the only runner in the world.

Yesterday I meandered up to Stirling to get over to 64th and the Seminoles. I switched out to the Asics and they felt great! light as feathers; with no hitch or hobble, I cruised along, fast-paced to the ipod, over the 441 intersection, the overpass, making the left into the reservation. The mile of road back to Sheridan is a lovely flat-out straight stretch and I took it at a fast pace. I thought about taking the side road west for a bit, another lovely stretch, but decided not to push the leg too much. Everything was going well.... I sang to the music, I practiced breathing; my legs were moving smooth and easy, and one more overpass took me to John Williams park for a break. I decided to meander back by Thomas, which would take me, one block at a time, all the way to Park. It's a good way to practice the pacing, strides, farleks, whatever you want to call them. By the time I took this last road, the shadows had come up, and the cool winds were chilling me down nicely...the colors of the sky took on rich, muted tones of cerullean blue and orange, and everything had a crystaline feel to it.

I get to the last miles and begin to feel the achiness, but by now I don't really care. The magic has taken hold and I am altogether different. It is flying by now, as automatic as if my feet were leading me on. I am not thinking, not feeling, I am sensing the way a bird must sense the entire sky and his place in it, angling against the stars or the moon. I feel the weight of the earth as a great ball sliding under me, pressing up as the air pulls me, arm and arm, into the last turn, the steps home.
When I stop and begin adjusting my gear, it's like Alice and the looking glass...I have stepped back into ordinary reality but there is always a bit of magic I bring along. These Sunday runs are my gold; they feed the spirit in me that is opened and allowed to run free, ready to tackle another week where I can reach out to those who are finding their wings, and the ability- to fly.

Saturday Ft. Lauderdale Loop

It's amazing how all doubts and sense of obstacles melt away when planning a long run. I've had a difficult time of it lately, with the workload and amount of stress from other quarters, and still feeling like I was climbing my way back from the world of hurt of the races. But as I thought about Saturday's run, a rush of child-like glee would bubble up in my heart, and I knew it was the best idea.

So I packed up extra food and gear and parked inside Hugh Birch state park on a beautiful, partly cloudy morning. It was later than might be prudent, making it for a warm circuit, but that's ok, I like the heat. Picking the lot in the heart of the park, I take the long, meandering road out, warming up in the Spira's with their springs, and the tunnel under A1A and the beach, south. Once I take that bike path down, I felt like I was back in the half-marathon again, watching the roadway full of runners aching and striving to come into the line. I bobbed and weaved my way through the traffic, the bikes, and other runners who, like me, use the bike lane to avoid the pedestrians on the crowded sidewalks. Finally, past Las Olas, the beach parks, I aim for the 17th Causeway bridge and take the hill only to have the road open up like a peeled onion for the big-masted ships to come through...a lovely place for a brake and a stretch. Another runner has come up behind me, a refugee from the Chicago winter ("yes, I lived there for a few years, I know what you're experiencing, I say"), and a Boston qualifier, out to do his 12 miles today. He looked compact, strong and fit- and even his casual movements looked deliberate and relaxed all at once. The big bridge parts standing on end finally came down and on either side the walkers, runners and bikers took off in their respective directions down the hills- and down-hill is a welcome relief when you run long.

I take the road to the corner of Federal where I buy a big bottle of water to replace my belt bottles and rehydrate well. It IS hot....but it's feeling fine, my leg is not a particular bother today. Take it up north towards downtown and listening easy on the ipod, in no particular hurry. Thinking of Ft. Lauderdale sagas, between the recent race, work, the whole M. sad soap opera, and its own unique quirks and personalities, I have a connection with Ft. Lauderdale. I take Broward all the way east to Victoria Park and mimic the route we trained on Saturdays.....love that little nieghborhood, up to Sunrise, then east and into the park. The last loop to the car, through the side of the park that hugs the intercoastal is a magical run- I gutted it out and gave it the gas, and found a rhythm that was as steady and musical as any gait I've had.

It was good to get a change of venue...I'm feeling more ready, now, to fall back into the roads of my own neighborhood and discover where I'm at in my training. I want to take it easy, at the same time I want to take it to a new level. Get really strong. Be able to go long without the level of suffering I've had with it. I want this year to take me up in its cadence, like a long expedition, an adventure, a flight. I'm seeing good mornings and great runs ahead. Starting now.