Running in Rain and New Shoes

My new shoes, Under Armour's, were waiting for me last night when I got home from work. An experiment in brand switching, I've gone from Asics to Brooks...with some research, I liked what I read about UAs type of fit- the ad video was done by an triathlete, uberrunner who worked with them to engineer the shoe. I was determined, no matter what the weather, to try them out today.

And yes, it wasn't raining to begin with. The weird stiffness of a new pair of shoes was offset by their structure. Snug where I need it, my hopes were high as I headed up Park to make my usual Griffin loop. The rain began before I made it to my first stop at Publix, but not heavy enough to cause delay. I don't mind rain running as long as it's not too chill...so back out, heading west, it was cloudy, drizzly, but I made the turn at 40th and still going strong.

As I flew out to the bottom of the Stirling intersection, I managed to duck under a garage overhang just in time as a massive storm broke open buckets of rain, lightening and thunder. Not good stuff to be caught out in, so I cooled my heels, did a few stretches, and waited...avoiding the wind, wandering through thoughts of mom, the upcoming class, the weekend, what I might wear for the marathon, where to place my long runs in a schedule that feels increasingly squeezed....and telling myself it will all happen in due time. As the rain let up, I decided to move out, throwing my sweat towel over my head and trying to enjoy the rain as a cool-off...by the time I hit Emerald Hills road, I felt pretty loose and was enjoying the shoes...I hit a nice rhythm through puddled roads and appreciated the sweep of my own feet through the heavy, wet air. Rainy runs are emotional, evocative. They bring melancholia to mind; but despite all this, somewhere close to the turn out towards Park, I felt a lift, an exhilaration as the movement took me over and the beauty of the run, with its own character and challenge moved within me.

The engine of awareness is what supports the run; the effort to engage, enjoy and accomplish the goal. I'm glad I became a runner and stuck it out. I hear others say "I'm not running now" or how they don't believe its good for them etc....I know all the research and heard all the arguments. I don't run to be politically correct. I crave the excitement that only a good trek/adventure/expedition into the neighborhood can give me to lighten and sort myself out, to give my body a chance to move to its own speed and rhythm, to write the script of my own inner life.

And when I make it home, I know my day will not be as difficult; I can maintain through anything if I can make it through that storm.

All Things Must Pass Away...

Yes, I've been watching non-stop news and music videos on BET, MTV, VH1, MSNBC; I admit I am a news junkie. I needed to immerse myself in all things Michael Jackson as I took a walk down the memory lane of my early adulthood. Dancing in CeeCee and Rick's living room while Richard played DJ, to Thriller, to every amazing MJ song we had between us, living large in our souls, feeling the ecstasy of pure connection through the music, the movement, the heart. The all night parties at Bennington, where R&B was the music of preference, and I learned to love all the artists of soul. Finding my own rhythm, my own courage on the heels of artists who had the courage to live large, find their voice, give us the vision....

So when I woke up this morning, I knew I hadn't slept enough, but I needed to run anyway. Brutal heat was on its way, but at sunrise, the last wisps of coolness still hug the roadways, and I soaked it all up on my way up the overpass heading north to cut to Stirling, Angler's Ave to Publix. It was a quiet and slow stretch..I was still stuck in my head, half dreaming....

The middle slog over Griffin and down 40th was tougher, as I got hot, tired and struggled to find a good gait. But somehow, even after a brief walk break coming up to the 56th Ave. intersection at Sheridan, I began to settle down. Hydrating at Anderson Park, I headed east, picking up Park for the long straight open stretch that allows me to leave the thinking behind....and that was when I found the peace I craved...the space that opened up as my legs began to find a rhythm, stopped protesting, carried my heart so it could expand on the morning air. I know the moment comes upon us without control; the beginning, the end, the grace of unexpected miracles or tragedies. Who can predict the impact our triumphs or follies will have on the rest of the world? I honor the Teachers who came to tell us to remember how to go on, with or without permission, a straight road, team support. Who blaze their solitary trails channeling the Voice of Love, our connection, reverberations like pebbles in open water, expanding in circles beyond us....

I loved how MJ was on everyone's mind (well mostly)....and the music was pouring from radios...it was streaming out of mine. They are moving on ahead, waiting to be called on for inspiration as those of us who stay behind hold them in our hearts. Thank- you Michael, for showing me how to dance, find my groove, and persevere in the face of destruction to my own redemption. You will be remembered. You will be loved.

Where is my Chi?

There are places in my body hurting which never bothered me before. I roll over in bed like an old woman. I tried to run the Griffin loop today and ended up walking most of the last few miles. It felt as if loose parts had fused around my lower back, legs; can my heart be this heavy inside me?

I figured running at all was probably heroic. When I walked I tried to let things loosen up, and found it strangely unnerving, as if walking was not my normal form of motion. My body kept wanting to speed up, but anytime I did, my feet felt stuck in quicksand. This is not marathon training. This is salvage running- doing anything to salvage a bit of mileage out of a workout. Sad times, sad little run.

The anger and rage that has nowhere to go is depleting what little energy reserves I might have had. I am not, on some level, reconciled to events. I cannot bail on anything. And yet so many are bailing out on me. The concept of injustice in life is high-order adjustment issues. We must be willing to accept that 'life is not fair' to be able to take our lot on. I tried thinking about the girls held in N. Korea. About Tibetans and Tienanmen square protesters...any one fighting for their lives and freedom who did not choose their lot. Where do we find courage when we feel all alone?

I imagined, as I tried to fall asleep last night, that I crawled into Great Mother's lap. Her huge arms were open wide to receive me. She was waiting for me. I wasn't sure I would manage to climb up into her landscape of a lap- or once there, if I'd ever find my way out. But the thought that the Universe was somehow there to receive me was comforting. Sometimes, beyond a single person, the heart resides in the Force of Life itself. It is strangely easier to tap this than to find the resonance in person. I know you are there. Somewhere. Please, let me know I am loved.

Long Goodbyes

It's feeling impossible to get any kind of rhythm back to running. One day seems ok. Another and my feet are full of lead. The heaviness in my heart has outweighed the fortitude of my commitment to train, and I'm trying to be alright with that, give myself time, give it time to settle.

My Dad would want me to persevere. As CeeCee said, he was always in his own way my biggest supporter, believing in my strange (to him) inclinations, aspirations and qualities that, like him, kept me on my path even when I wanted to quit.

I can't believe still he has left us behind. In the race that is life, I hope and pray he prepares the way; my Mom is not far behind. And I, left with my love, will hold the vision always of his best self.

Love you, Dad. Please, rest in peace. We got it.