The Team

Blink of an Eye- MCM and trip north Part 1

Carrier Library, JMU. A walk all around Harrisonburg, Virginia brought me to The Little Grill for a "collective" breakfast of amazing fresh, good food, a chat across the street at the Community Center, non-profit brainchild of LG folks-fame, a stop at Franklin St. Gallery, home of one of my wood sculptures, and to Grattan St. for a peek at another. It's strange to remember all the layers I inhabited here in Virginia. Carmel-in-the-Valley days, Valley Network, early family and Michael, artist at The Barn, Community Mediation Center, and back to school at JMU. It was 'yesterday' that I lived on Franklin St. and completed my bachelor's...everything is the same and completely different all at the same time! The last couple of days with the Jones', the few prior in West Virginia, taking the past to the past and speculating, dreaming the future.

All this on the heels of the marathon, and 26.2 miles of 'touring' greater Washington DC on foot. I am awestruck by the beauty of this whole area; is it any wonder it took me 17 years to leave it? I ran once in WVA on Tuesday just to see if I could; my quads and calves were still screamin' sore, but the walking is doing me good. My lovely daughter-in-law, and Director of Documentation has provided ample race photos, and when I get back to Florida I'll start to post to the blog. Meanwhile, I will only start with the sense of amazement that I did it, survived intact, and though posted a slow finish time, feel pride in finishing at all!! My first half an energetic charge to a second half overflowing with fatigue and discomfort. Moral of the story for now is stick to the halfs. Allow running to return to the mystical practice it has become to complete my connection between body and soul.

But I'm glad to have the roar of that crowd and the thousands of eager and supportive marines in my ear.

I can feel the energy of The Valley once more pushing itself through to a new level of change. Way back when we first came as outlanders to Carmel, in the late '70's, we had a vision of a "Mystery School." We saw ourselves pulling in the many young lightworkers who wanted to transform the world. In the blink of an eye, we turn around to find ourselves the same elders we once came to emulate. The professionals in the field, the family people, the core supporters of progressive projects popping like mushrooms from the fertile fields of historic endeavors. I bless those Mennonites, and other peace folks who brought it here. I bless the Native Americans who used it for their camp gatherings, building energies for a future us. I bless the young folks who pare it down to sustainability and heartfelt commitment to alternative lifestyles. I bless those sculptures for living on, with my imprint, in those rooms.

When I return, I will begin the process of sorting out the race photos. Postings to come will take the journey through the marathon. To all the finishers, it was one hell of a ride, wasn't it!? And to DC, and home of our President, deepest thanks.

Last Training Run

Tears kept coming to my eyes as I made my way from Florida to DC; what I read, what I thought, what I saw, anticipated, remembered...such pathos and generosity to life! Upper most was my Dad, and my Mom who holds the ground from her wheelchair watching as someone else she loves leaves...but I'll be back!! What a year it's been...

So off I go on my own hard-won adventure. My usual plane phobia seemed to have lifted as I managed to enjoy the flight. My body still protests cramped spaces, pollution fumes, too many people too close (I know, start line...LOL). But the anxiety that used to rocket me into panic was gone. The guy next to me, reeking of bad cologne and cigarettes looked more miserable...giving me a reference point to realize how things have 'normalized' in the travel realm.

The kids are so great. What can I say about my little international family? I love their wide love; full of playful, gentle acceptance. They teach me something about my own nerve-wracked trajectory in relationships. They settle my soul with hopeful good will and I thank them for that. I loved the futon next to Michael's station; something out of a futuristic place of work with his multi-screened, multi-tasked uber-panels, in conjunction with what I recognize as a slightly bohemian approach to the house...the stuff of lives, like mine, with a lot of reference points. The books, pix, knickknacks, the playful colors, slightly disorderly chaos I recognize so well from my own approach to home. I slept like I was somewhere 20 years ago, with a smile of simple comfort, and allowed my body to unwind itself into needed rest.

Today, Michael took the bike and me out for my last training run. Weather overcast, 50's...the colors of fall kissing the trees against the iron sky. We start all downhill which gives me false promise that I can handle it, until we meet up to the bike path, the trail and some serious ups and downs I never have in Florida. But it was better than I expected; in fact, I'd say the change-ups helped some of my chronic aches and pains as my body had to make adjustments in terrain. No wonder runners hate the flats. To focus on form and put a little speed to it, we take the flat path back, crossing the highways, coming back to his home hill where I managed at least a little push. Altogether 7 miles, and I feel fantastic. Hot shower. Toast with PB. And a day to read and relax. THIS is how you prepare for a marathon!

Tomorrow it's Expo and packet pick-up day. A last bit of frenzy to find my space to prepare mentally. There's nothing else I can do physically. I can eat what I want at last; I can massage and stretch. But at this point, whatever I've gotten done in training is done. I will rise or fall on the prior 6 months, 6 years. I don't know if I should be confident or scared out of my wits. But like everything else in life, I won't know until I show up! See you in Crystal City!

5 days to go

It's hard to believe the amount of minutia it takes to pack for this trip. Between the gear, nutritional items, warm clothes, cold clothes, workshop and business materials, reading materials, personal items it feels like moving the 7th Army. It was hard to sleep last night. An old theme came back into my dreams, of being out on the roads or trails...running...this time making a stop at an encampment where my first thought was, wow I'd like to be in a place just like this...as I passed orchards, gardens, greenhouses, green houses...a country oasis on the road between urbanization. And lo and behold the people there knew me! I found it only slightly odd that I didn't recognize them but it didn't seem to matter, I was apparently a regular visitor, and a call went out to see who wanted to run on with me. Again, this struck me as novel, but not to them. Two women, who seemed to be mother and daughter? with flaming red hair prepared to move out with me...in the back of mind I kept thinking 'this is apparently normal' LOL...somewhere not here in my regular life.

I woke before the alarm. It felt good to know that some ancient endeavor brings me close to this current adventure; that something seeped deep into my psychic makeup is made for long hauls, long treks, long runs, taking the message, carrying the news, connecting the communties of souls. Runners as free agents. Runners as secret shamans. In Born to Run, the Tarahumara turn out to be the Indians Carlos Castaneda studied in Mexico, but called them Yaquis to preserve their secrecy. The secret to running then is apparently the same as everything else; it's a spiritual path, and you commit to it the same way as any other practice. You learn from master teachers, you conquer your fears. You find the immutable core of yourself which is not moving when moving, which is moving when not moving. You make the leap into your life, and you don't second quess. You own the internal space you inhabit and let your feet and your heart lead the way.

It will be fascinating and fun to chronicle this adventure. Stay tuned. Doors are flying open everywhere. If you listen through these words, these images, you may find your own right mindedness cooking up new possibilities and big dreams. So dream BIG. Go for your heart's desire. And know the Universe is standing behind you putting the wind at your back, whether you know it or not.

See you in DC!

One Week to Go

This is me the last time I crossed the finish line at a marathon, my first, in Miami 2007. Notice I am still standing upright, but not much movement in those legs. I hit every predictable problem in that race...I had hip flexor pain which kept me from easing into my stride, I tanked out around mile 18 with bad weather blowing through, I ate too much en route, took too many potty breaks. But I'm proud to say I made it in right before 6 hours, and this is still my goal.

Yesterday for the last long run I woke up to a sudden crash of temps into the 50's with a big biting wind that called for a wardrobe change into longer pants, more layers and head gear. It was tough into the wind. My heart was heavy- I had to change plans for the run at the last minute...I felt that odd clash of inner enthusiasm with outward disappointment and kept remembering the Hathors with their caution to seek the inner center where nothing from the outside can disrupt; not the weather, not disappointing SOs, not family worries, not the future or the past. I focused on my footfalls as they fell into the light that I imagined emanated from the core of earth through my legs and up into the center of the galaxy a line that I could follow like the line of a spinning top as I took my last loop around Griffin, to Park. It was all sore and exhausting until I hit that last long stretch then I found my sweet spot and settled in to my imagined straight-away at some unknown mile a week from now. Ok so 2-3 times this, I know. Altogether, yes. But the crowds carry us along, and the other runners who show their own determination and enthusiasm so openly and joyously are contagious. And maybe for the first time, I share it with my family and friends. For Dad. For Mom; for me.

From this point on, its a long preparation..a week of adjustments from the work week, from So Flo to the big world of Washington DC, and the kids. The packed few days of getting everywhere so I can arrive at the start line on Sunday. For anyone who follows the blog, think of me and wish me well. There is light and air to all those prayers of well-wishing and I will appreciate every one.

Last Minute Glitches

After too much, too many interactions with the Great Apple folks, I finally have the earphone replacement I need for the new shuffle. How did we get so dependent on the gear that comes with running?? I keep in mind the Kenyans, the Taramuhara, the ancients who ran on a little cornmeal, and a whole lotta heart and sole. I am spoiled, over-anxious and under-confident. I make a mountain out of the small overpass, and think my 10 miles is really something.

My hip has a mysterious new pain. The bridge is open to traffic at mile 19 or 20....the weather calls for a nor'easter coming up. Shar was unable to book the workshop as I hoped.

Now its time to re-boot my expectations and forget about minutia of it all. I am so eager to get out and RUN tomorrow morning, just to MOVE, be on the GO, and escape the constraints of daily life. I am so constricted in my car, my office chair, my schedule. The run let's me get out and go, and go I must. Time soon enough to see if I've got anything to give to 26.2 miles. But in the end, it's just another loop around an endless endeavor, coming back to myself.

Marathon Spirit Builds

That's Sammy, the winner of the Chicago marathon, setting a course record of 2:05 and change. A Kenyan discovered by a Japanese trainer, he's the new uber-wunderkind of long distances. His entire being is lit up crossing that line! There's no fatigue, no "finally!"...just pure triumphant joy! Way to go, Sammy!!

Today I took my 10 miles in big gulps. At this point, its a mental game. No matter what my body is doing, my mind needs to stay in control. So at different intervals, I kicked into a higher gear and told myself, "go, go!" and felt that fantastic free-flight feeling of flying down the road. Even in the last miles on Park, I managed a nice clip despite a nagging ache in my hip. Funny how the aches and pains migrate around, as the twin stresses of sitting in the office all day and trying to get comfortable in bed plague me.

With days and counting, I am so there! The work days between me and leaving are the mile markers en route to my flight. I have everything at the ready, more or less; the gear, the workshop stuff, the various and sundry gifts. I've thought out the race options for dressing; I have a little bit of an idea where I'm going. Last will be packing a picture of Dad to carry to the finish. The race, which is packed with military personnel, is the perfect place to honor him. Jules Max Cowen, shipfitter third class, US Navy, will be running along laughing his ass off I'm sure at the sheer spectacle of the race- something he was never able to see in real life. But I'm sure the tears will flow for both of us as the accomplishment comes into view. Wherever his spirit takes him, I hope this boost teleports him into a good place; where his buddies are waiting with warm hugs to carry him over the line.

Soon, Dad, we'll be there.

Yoga Day

The heat and humidity made mincemeat of me yesterday....I fell asleep early and woke late. Put my effort into yoga today to build the chi back and stretch/strengthen everything sore. And it works! I've been more beat up than this after longer runs, and consistent attention to adjustments, diet and rest seem to be a stabilizing influence.

Mentally, I'm cooling down the engines of anxiety, and shifting, instead, into how to make maximum enjoyment from so much intense activity! Once out on the course, I feel confident my natural enthusiasm will kick in. Being back with the family, the circle of friends, will be a homecoming for sure! And making whatever professional inroads are possible as I take my 'show' on the road, is icing on the cake. It will be sweet reward for the years of hard work I've put into my career.

Today, I remember that I come from tough stock...from survivors of pogroms, immigrants, strivers and fighters and dreamers. I honor the core of resolve that marks my progress in life and bless myself for the pathos of the struggle. I recognize that some things, like art, I engage inconsistently and endeavor to create a greater role; not just thinkng about it, doing it. I honor the things I make consistent, like the long loopy miles of testing myself against my own preconceived notions of physical fitness and health. I read back through my RBWO 'Facilitators Handbook' and smile at the description of physical ills....knowing I have come a long way towards healing what ailed me. If the trip represents anything unique, it's a chance to put all those threads of development on the line, and move fearlessly (well, relatively speaking) into the unknown. The future me is all smiles, for she knows the fruits of my labor, the results of my dreams are steps away...keep moving, she keeps telling me. When you tire, when you ache, keep going. When your mind tries to shut you down, keep running. The line is there. We are there. And connection is made with all those who run by your side.

T-minus 2 weeks

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I bought "Born to Run" yesterday, among other items for the trip. The story of the Tarahumara will make for excellent preparation about everything about to unfold. The Inner Runner, the Inner Artist, the Inner Sage/Shaman....they will all be called out into action.

The passion of my vision is in pretty stark contrast to the reality of my status. The heat and humidity, extreme even by So Florida standards, have put something like a wet blanket over me. My body doesn't want to respond, flow or comply with my training plan, or my will. It wants to protest, ball itself up into exhaustion and wish the race away.

At 3AM, thinking it was time to get up after my alarm stopped and started, I got up and got dressed. Why are all the other clocks saying 3, when the alarm clock says 5:15? I would have headed out, too, but fell back to the bed, clothes on. At 5:15, when the alarm, corrected, went off, I was groggy and sweaty...the line-up of supplements, calorie ingredients and gear was ready. My head felt like twilight zone meets my daily dreams which had taken on an aura of petty but primal fears...burglarizing, protecting and security.

And sure as molasses, the ipod crapping out - again. As I got going, the red hot filaments of dawn were shooting the edges of the horizon ... our first miles out, we headed right for it, and caught the luxurious and surreal blue of the lumescent light on the new ocean- the air pungent with low tide, the birds slow to awake.

I was awkward, sore, my left hamstring had tightened up, and I couldn't reach my gait, which kept hopping away with the flail of my arms. The stop at North Beach was as long as I could suck it up; the chance to stand still, to wonder, what the hell was going on with my body now?

Somewhere in old east Hollywood, I mustered the will to put some paces together; nothing comfortable, just drilling my brain with the idea that no matter what we would be running, and soon. To adjust to the conflict, the torment between body and mind. I prayed that somehow the wings of Mercury would find me despite transplanting north, that despite my lower expectations, something miraculous was available.

The finish, the fight to get there, the story to tell. Opening the way for new roads and races to fan themselves out in the future, just as new opportunities to spread my dreams unfold. The circle we run in the course of the race is just another mandala afterall, and each one stamped with the resonate personality of the runner. We show our colors, our form. We display for anyone to see, our face to the sun. Our arms, our legs, carry the momentum past the line, as we stake the claim for more. The journey never ends.

Taking it on the Road, in more ways than one!

For 16 years I have fulfilled my mission of achieving the credentials I needed to be the professional facilitator and counselor I started out as back at the Barn. How amazing is it that I'm able to take the Right Brain Workout to my alma mater JMU! The trip north is shaping up to be an amazing opportunity to reconnect and strengthen ties in many areas; my blood and spiritual families, my work and not least of all, my running!

It proves how fruitful the journey, if we stick to our forward momentum, and just keep moving. It took running to really give me the foundation to learn how to apply this daily. It took running to build strength, endurance, self-confidence and marry the physical with the spiritual. My life has twisted and turned itself through the backroads of my dreams; but who knows? Maybe the world has caught up with me at last, and the 'message' of Intuitive Us, of the natural creative webs at work inside and out, connecting us to the vision of our future selves, our future world, is able to get heard.

It's my time. I carry the dream. Many goals are in place waiting for me to find them, realize them, put them to good use. May the energy I need to make it happen be available to me! And the Beneficent Ones who believe in me, lend their hearts and hands.

T-minus 3 weeks

Today I gave my body a round of yoga to help restore the bruising run yesterday. From start to finish I was out for 5 hours....making a very big loop up and over to the beach, back up through Hollywood, and back to Dania Bch Blvd and heading west until I tacked another 5 miles onto a base 15- for somewhere around 20. Plenty of pit stops.
A few walk stretches mostly in the last hour. If you imagine running most of this in high 80's heat then it was a solid effort...then imagine all this in cooler temps and crowds around, runners and spectators all combining energies...that's what carries us to the line.

I was surprised at how much of the run felt good. The settling into my body's own rhythms while listening to good tunes and allowing my inclination to daydream loose...Meandering through neighborhoods, this time Dania Beach just west of Federal, passing the ladies in dress whites coming to church, the relaxed group at bus stops in no hurry on a Sunday, snaking my way through towards 95. It was good to be off the usual course...it kept me distracted from distances, and how my feet and legs were feeling. The aches and pains in my left foot, ankle and leg are a drag, but appear to be a function of constant adjustment. Lots of icing, massage and stretch aftewards, and yoga today.

According to my latest edition of Runner's World, I can hold that as the last very long run. There is no way I can do more in the S. Florida heat. It's close enough to give me a psychological reminder of the distance. At the race, it will be up to willpower and the fates to bring it home. Meanwhile I am still on schedule. Next weekend, do 15 as the longest, and the weekend before I leave a good 10'er.

There will be lots to learn from this experience....not the least of which is understanding how training and racing functions in my life right now. Post-marathon I need to make the next big push for my state exam, and distances will need to revert to the manageable. This seems reasonable, as long as the 'trekker' in me has that outlet to wander the streets. Miami may not be a second marathon this year, but I could still do the half with steady effort. But whether races remain, running will....and the space inside my head where the pulse of my heart meets the sweat of my soul in tandem with my dreams.