The Possibilities are Endless

I'm realizing, as if for the first time, how much spring we have in South Florida and just how much change in seasons. As climate changes increase extreme weather elsewhere, we seem to now have real changes ourselves, not just the rainy/dry or warm/warmer contrasts. And I'm loving it! The mercurial mood of spring gives me that crazy boost of energy, the birthday season, harmonizing with my own vibe. It's been great to run in high winds, blustery rains, clouds scattered through the skies like fast moving herds of marshmallow, blending through a muted color spectrum of grays, dusky blues.

I swear, that half marathon is STILL kicking my rear-end, but I'm managing some minimal mileage, (well for me anyway) and enough length on the long runs to remind myself I can still do it. Today I took the Griffin loop, with every intention of heading through the Seminoles. But constant running into hard wind is exhausting! So at Stirling I cut down through Emerald Hills and still probably managed a 7 or 8.

My ideal runner and me had to reconcile ourselves, as I kept wishing I'd dropped the few extra pounds put on for the race, felt stronger, faster, more balanced and hoped I could pull off registration for Marine Corp marathon in Oct AND the tumult of the times at work and with family without any extra stress. LOL....Spring does this to me, revs me up to high octane optimism and over-confidence that I will find the time and resources to pull it all off. The funny thing is I usually do, but come down to earth around July when I realize just how much there is!!

Still, the lessons keep pointing to the same thing: anything really is possible. If I would have tried to imagine all the events of this year, all the triumphs and tragedies, I couldn't have crafted this unusual narrative, the one that says don't ever get too comfortable with your assumptions. I can do Marine Corp, if I properly train. I can get my license, if I finish that last class and pass the state exam. I can walk through these many doors with those I love and stay true to the great influx of universal forces which keep choosing us all to blast through. All we need to do is get out of the way. Even a shred of will can be augmented to lightning speed and intensity, where dreams which may have looked elusive can come alive again. There is no need to limit the Vision. Bring it all on.

High Winds at TY

The skies were threatening rain this morning, and the winds were whipping through the trees as I decided to take my AM run to the park. My thought is better to be caught in bad weather where I can duck into shelter than out on the open road where I'm at the mercy of Nature. So loop 1, getting my legs to move. Loop 2, feeling a bit more comfortable, want to quit while I'm ahead. But in order to get 6 miles it took one more loop. By now running into the head winds was exhausting, but exhilarating...I love the intensity of the weather. It somehow echoes the intensity in my head and feels as if the atmosphere is resonating with me. That we are forces which meld into one body, and as I run, to become the movement of air, legs, feet in some semblance of rhythm. It was probably awkward, at least it felt like it was. But at the end, I'm glad I did it. Wearing myself out physically is a means of clearing the circuits for work. And lately I need every advantage to handle what County dishes out.

Spring Run

After 3 days of no running, probably the longest stretch in a very long time, I ran a long loop across Park, to the Seminoles and up to Stirling and all the way across to make an 8-9 mile loop. The backs of my legs are sore as hell today, but it was worth every step. The air, which was churned up with earlier rains, and the unsettled, newly minted spring winds, were a joyful relief swirling around me; casting gusts of cool, crisp motion against me, or behind me, as direction dictated. It was a chance to lose myself in the depths of Nature, and feel the shift and change in the polarities of seasons, as something spinning on extraordinarily large levels continues to move, faster, and faster.

I felt some strength, occasional bursts of speed and bliss to be out on my beloved open road alone. I had all the room in the world to watch my thoughts rise and fall with my footsteps. I practiced catching the space between my thoughts, between the footfalls, where the pain and discomfort was suspended, and was able to endure longer passages of running without getting caught up in the thought "when will this be over"?
I needed as much distance between my world and the world of work, worries about others. The mind that watches the skies, and absorbs the sun through tired eyes relaxed in the pursuit of the trail. Steady on, bit by bit, until the run was done.

I have sensed the entire fabric of spring like an electric blanket, not of heat but of energy, falling over the earth from grids that permeate the space between us. The matrix of motion is falling deeper into us. We chafe at the amplification, turning up and up as the times and tides continue to build. Choosing a place which is safe, and grounding becomes key. For me, the stance on my own two feet becomes as solid as anything, even as I move with the winds.

If Buddha Ran

The early dawn threw pearly lights onto the scattered clouds, like buddha eyes scanning over the world. It was a perfect temperature; just enough chill to cut the warmth coming on from the sun, giving me lift in my step as I got into rhythm, heading north on Park. I crave the motion and solitude, and the chance to sort and settle my thoughts out from the cacophony of needs, demands, expectations, losses, hopes, fears....

If Buddha Ran he would be thought-less. As I rounded out on Emerald Hills and began to pick up a good pace, I felt that old feeling of weightlessness. As if I could go just a little faster, and leave the ground in a whirl. Would He fly as well? Would his pristine calm and containment leave any impression in his wake, or would the molecules fling themselves in timeless directions, covering the earth in possibilities? I wondered about marathoning this year. Can I ramp up enough in my training to make it to another big race? There is so much on my plate. But I need the run to make it real, to feel the pain, the exhilaration, the exhaustion. I need the physical push of my limits to let me know the breath is still full in my chest, so that when tears come, they can flow like water on the steps i leave behind.

Spring Weather Returns

I dreamt last night I was in a race. The scene I remember was a particularly tricky part with a snaky stretch of twists and turns taking us around and out from one part to another. I remember watching, out of the corner of my eye, other runners attempting to navigate their footing and hoping I would stay on my feet. I didn't run today, trying to monitor the ongoing soreness in new places in my back legs etc, after several intense runs. But somehow, this one scene seems to sum up all the substance of current life; its a challenge getting from point A to B...and the course has become convoluted. But I am on it, on my feet, and making my way along with everyone else.

50 years of Tibet struggle for independence and freedom. A client tells me about visiting the ashram north of Vero Beach where the guru Ma lives...suddenly connections are springing to life which have been laying dormant over the winter. I can feel the surge of energy along with the daylight and warmth. And further along, my intent to make a fresh start in training, learning from the last race, preparing for the next.

If all works according to plan, I will try to register for Marine Corp in Oct. It's tricky registration; it fills immediately. But if I succeed it will be the next race to prepare for, during a busy time of completing the last grad class this summer, and getting ready to test for licensure.

But that's getting ahead of myself. Today was yoga, and it felt great. Sleep and diet, and keeping the stress level manageable at work; those are the current goals. If I begin to feel comfortable with some mileage then all the better. The road isn't going anywhere, and the weather is with me. I am, as always, running for peace, and the struggles for freedom everywhere.

Girl Power

I didn't care what I felt like this morning, I was antsy to get out on that run, and do an entire 9 mile loop over through the Seminoles. I've missed my long runs, and all the craziness lately has ramped up my need to be out and unfettered.

The weather, which has cooled with the rest of the country's winter blast, finally moderated. I was overdressed. But the winds, which still retain their chilly edge, blew strong enough to make me walk short stretches on the way back. But the lovely morning sun, spread over the back roads, caught behind blowing palms and shrubbery dense with early spring. The sky, cobalt and broken with clouds, smiled on me. I ran poorly, but grateful to be moving through, seeing familiar trails watching down the same sidewalks as before the race.

When CeeCee came to visit, she brought that Good wide energy back to me. Spreading breaths and heartbeats, open words, history owned and in the making. I love that I run with all of them in mind. I feel like I take my mother with me, and tell her about the feeling of flying down the overpass, the pick up pace before I get tired when for a short time, anyway, I am weightless and carefree. The moment of pure motion, the blurring of my Self.

I carry the flame of Paula and Deena, the uber-runners who take it to an art form. I pretend to be 20, and plan ultra-trail races, and smile because I dont think I can go back that much, but I might try.

I insist on my right to run the road, unencumbered. I'll remember next time, to leave more baggage behind, and pour my sorrow into my steps. Let the earth take it. Let the road lead me far away from intrusion, from care. I am light in the wind. I forgot who I am.

Getting it Back Together

The aches and pains of race recovery continue as I head out this morning for a windy but relatively temperate morning run. The extra yoga has been good; I feel relatively strong throughout my core and arms. My calves, achilles tendons and feet are sore....and getting the pace back for speed is a challenge...it was a solid 7 miler, up and around the Emerald Hills loop and mostly into a strong headwind. The usual euphoria which kicks in towards the last miles was elusive, but just being in the winds, on an open road is bliss in and of itself.

It doesn't always have to be ultimate salvation to be a good run. The week has taxed my resources to stay on top of countless client crises, but each day I put the work to bed on the heals of prayers for the Wheels of Change to be merciful, compassionate for all. Including me. And every run I finish strong is another affirmation that my body-mind-spirit will pull me through again.

Carrying the Moment

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The chilly temps are not done with us yet; while the north gets a winter blast, the cold front creeps far south into our territory, turning this morning's run into a gauntlet run into the cold winds. I dressed right, however, so except for my ears, I was comfortable. By the time I made the turn to come back down Thomas, I was feeling relaxed; the wind was at my back coming home and I found some great Ziggy tunes that matched my pace. I found more strength and mobility as I kept going. The last half was definitely more comfortable than the first, and altogether I'd estimate it was a solid 6+ miler.

I felt heavy hearted until I focused on the rainbow image from a Ziggy song, and imagined my chakras fluttering like a rainbow flag in the winds. I envisioned the rhythmn of my steps and the pace of the motion churning those circles of color around and around until they took on a life of their own; waving my colors to the sky.

I carry the moment of coming into the line, at the race. When pushed to it, I can find the extra resources I need to keep going. I carry the knowing of it, and despite the temporary hijack by pain, disappointment or loss, I feel the surge of extra energy from unseen sources. I must remember where it begins. Only then can I ever get anywhere.

"Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate contest of history; therefore we must be saved by faith. Nothing we ever do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore, we must be saved by love."

-Reinhold Niebuhr, The Children of Light

file:///Users/riccirobson/Pictures/A!A09event.asp.html

or A1A Half Marathon story, part 2

Very hard to believe a whole week has transpired since the race. I did myself some good, taking it easy this week. One run Wednesday, not so hot. Today a nice, solid 6 miler on the Griffin loop, the air so inviting and my pace just as together as the week before. Running for fun.

Last weekend, I had my hopes, and well, mostly hopes. Things had been going well. Maybe not as much distance as I'd liked but the bike training thing was doing me good. I felt strong. And even though I did not make my PR, I handled, from start to finish the 13.1 miles with even keel and good strategy. These legs have their rhythm. These feet their way of making contact. If anything a race always inspires me to want to be a better runner, to rise up the ranks and approach, regardless of how far, the aura of the uber-runners, the girls with cut bellies and legs, the guys swinging long arcs of grace and speed, thrilling and amazing to watch! I had several good looks along the route. We all began as a pack spread along Las Olas, but once the park loop came up, those in front passed right besides those of us coming in, and as we made the right turn descent into the park proper, they came bats out of hell up the rise to A1A north- swoosh!

My race so far was fine. Las Olas in the dark, the overpass, making the turn at the beach and the light coming up from behind some cloudiness, the temps just fine, high 50's or low 60's. The park loop, once the celebrity vibes of the superstuds passed, was a sentimental and comfortable place; at 5-6 miles I was still feeling ok, doing what I would have sworn were 10 min. miles. We had just trained in this park, I have run this park many weekends many years now. I felt I owned that park. Sliding out the entrance, we head up and north...the small rise to get there suddenly slows me down, my momentum is lost. We veer spread out to take the street and once again I am confortable, away from the restriction of numbers in the park. This is my kind of run now, flat out on the pavement with lots and lots of room. The stellar front pack comes our way, flying down the their corridor on wings, guys and girls, tight tight tight. This gives me inspiration; so I find my gait, I settle down and tuck in for the long trek north.

Now this is not many miles, and the turnaround, as I kept looking on the map, was just north of Oakland and this is not terribly far. I kept thinking. At this point the need to pee was becoming a distraction. How much time, I kept trying to figure out, and felt I was more than halfway home. The f*@king turnaround took forever to appear- the BATAN death march was upon me; on this stretch we see EVERYONE coming down from the turn, and I watch as they morph from uber-to great-to pretty damn good- to I wish that was me- to ....me. I see now older runners, bigger runners, I dont necessarily like running in this pack. I had a girl in a skirt from early in the race, and I kept looking for her. She looked young and a fairly good runner. It was good for my ego to think if I could keep up with her I'd do well and have a decent time. The oldsters were passing, though, man there are ALOT of good older runners.

Anyway. Finally. The course directs us to the right and tight around to the split: the marathoners head right, and north. Us halfers, to the left, and blessedly, south....yes, south past the ocean on the left, south with the breeze, past Sunrise, the hotels, the restaurants...south to the FINISH LINE. I couldn't hold it any longer and be okay. I suddenly saw a portajohn with its green flag flashing at me, and ducked in as fast as I could. The sudden stopping was disorienting, and I stiffened, hurried out and back on the road.

Lost my girl. Found a new few women running about my pace a little faster and began tieing to them. I picture a cord of energy and throw it out, a la Carlos Castenada. I think its how I came to learn how to run distances. I always thought it infinitely smart to throw out that energy cord as a lifeline to your future. And in running it seems to help me feel something is pulling me along without my need to push so hard into the air for momentum. I was in a good rhythm but really couldn't feel my legs much, hoping I just kept the crank up, and trying to enjoy the ride. My hip was hurting. I dissociated a tad towards the end, when within the last few miles it began to have that slowed down, surreal, endless feeling...of just going on and on...Maybe that's when I got emotional and cried, a phenomenon that seems to happen in every race, at least the long ones, for the feeling I get of being so overwhelmed to be doing it, so grateful, so happy to test myself, push myself, go for it, make the accomplishment happen. I usually think of everyone I run for. I run for peace, but at some point I get specific and this time I thought mostly about my Dad, and my Mom. And Michael flying. I seem to recall using the glider image at the end there in an effort to keep my spirits up, wings on my feet, feel the flight of the motion.

It was full on to the line. The crowds had spread along the side, and rounding into the lot, people began to wave and cheer. I was coming in with a big group. The bunch of us crossing in a lump- but I saw the pad, raised my arms and saluted myself. I ran my half-marathon in good form, finished strong, good kick. I was damn proud.

The other fun part was watching other runners coming in. Since my half marathon was around the super runners, marathoners were coming in. Flinging themselves and flying into the line. Rubbery legs, hyperventilating, hot, some weirdly relaxed.

And, oh yea, pancakes.