dog days of summer

It's hard to believe, looking at photos of my half marathons last winter, that I froze my ass off, dressed in layers, with head gear, gloves and still came in like a drowned and frozen rat across the line. Today, at 6:30 AM, it was well into the 80's, humid, and only got hotter and more moist as the run went on. 8 miles of grueling heat, and all this before 9!! The serious training schedule will begin soon enough, and hopefully by then there will be some let up in the intensity. Meanwhile, I keep my mileage up as much as possible, and acclimate.

It's not long 'tll January. Really.

Every little thing

Good runs are defined by the unexplainable phenomenom of all elements working in harmony; bad runs by the equally mysterious breakdown of parts, be it one or many, doesn't matter, because it only takes one. This week, its a blister on my little toe, right foot. The left foot, nemisis of strains and stresses for most of 2 or 3 weeks, became whole. The right foot, meanwhile, had apparently taken the weight of that timeframe and it was that toe, always landing at the outside edge that finally turned to a little agonizing nugget in the way of my next mile.
Saturday the 14th was an official 'training run' for World Run Day on November 11. I signed up for 10 miles, with an anticipated time of 1:40, which was fast, I knew, for me, if I stopped at all. (folks, I am slow, and not ashamed to admit it....if I do an 11 minute mile thats OK with me.) I put my obligatory visit in with the parents and ran errands first, and did not hit the road until 3PM. The whole time I wondered about running at all- that toe had been pushing out, blistering, reblistering for days. Finally I decided to put myself in the mindset of every great distance runner I could think of and laced up with the thought; what's the worse that can happen? I walk, I run a short ways, I run another day....? It was hothothot and humid. I packed on my bottle of gatorade and extra fruit roll and cash. (Had to learn this lesson the hard way; as a hypoglycemic, energy is the key to surviving any mileage above 6 or so....) I put those first footsteps down and OUCHie ouch ouch, ouch....this was all I heard in my head through my ipod music cadence, but I pushed, pushed up the overpass, pointing towards the beach. A bandana with ice wrapped in it was around my neck and did a remarkable job keeping me cool in the midday heat (thanks, Runners World!). I knew I was favoring that right foot but kept a slow pace as steady as I could. My endurance was fine. I made it to my first stop at Publix to hit the cold water fountain and the A/C. Turned north to Dania Beach Blvd, a new, straight stretch that had me walking the half mile before I hit the beach. It wasn't just my feet by that time. And I was only half-way. I loitered a long time at a convenience store with a gatorade, eating my dried fruit, and watching the local beach traffic in the parking lot, the swimmers, smokers, bikers, drinkers, the wired-looking kids, and their worn-out parents shuffling in flip-flops. My resolve strengthened as I thought of myself on a break in my trek as an adventurer/athlete, slurping down my elixir, ready to get back in to my run. And off I went, parallel the ocean, those wonderful wafting breezes, full of brine and bird calls, poetry of people falling into waves...I was pushing through pain and fatigue, and stopped again in the shade of Surf Road to stretch, and walked to the Snack shop at North Park, my next regroup point. From there, a straight stretch west, and home. I loaded up on water and headed into the sun. I ran/walked this entire last part; the temps throughout were certainly in the high 80's to low 90's. It was insanity to attempt this run. I did it in 3 hours. A cold shower and mountains of food revived me enough to settle me on my floor where I managed to pass the rest of the evening.

And my foot? The insert of my right shoe was damp from the oozing off my toe. I stopped feeling the pain after I hit North Park. That was about mile 7? I still have the blister, and have run 2 more days. My hope is it will 'toughen up' eventually. I am still 'seeing' that marathon, and reading accounts of runners who overcome much more than the disturbances of one toe, one afternoon, one crappy run. My question is, does the marathon 'see' me?

Making a comeback

Naysayers come in all stripes; beware the message "don't- can't- shouldn't- watch out". Of course pain is not the goal. Neither is self-recriminations in any form....."the door is wide open" is the message heard through inner channels, and one I choose to take to heart, as I took to the road again, with the waves of heat massaging me from head to heel as I pounded back out on the roads. Its a new game, not a variation of the old, even if it feels that way. And it seems to be a key in what it takes in my focus right now, not to overlay everything on what comes before. Some things drop away and are done. While others become new trails, broken open by desire, opportunity and motivation. It's still challenging to nail down what makes a run effortless, strong and fearless, and others faltering stumbling messes. The chemistry of one day morphs into the alchemy of another and the solar bursts of old light tumble into us with incessant force, magnetizing us to our purpose. How do we harness any of it, or are we really just responding almost automatically to larger and larger impulses? Every step is a confirmation of my presence in a plan, a tap into the matrix of energy that pulls me along its web like lightening in slow motion. I can, I will, I shall carry myself forward, and find along the way the willing partners who choose the run, the path, the company of hopefulness. We have no other choice. Its forward or nothing. The door is wide open.

setbacks and disappointments

My overconfidence has cost me; its feeling like a stress fracture in the same foot I injured before. I knew it wasn't right on the way to 17th St. Causeway, but I'd made up my mind. I was a mile shy of returning when I had to stop- and walk. A first. All the research is pointing to this...even pool running today was tough if I put too much pressure down on that foot. The pendulum is taking me to the other side of things, it seems, in many ways, with challenges unforseen. It's a blow to my tough resolve to find myself back in a fight to overcome what I thought I'd come out of, a certain plateau of function and ability. Whether its physical, emotional or spiritual, it never comes easy to me. And what most people take for granted and maybe even in me, is thinking its always there, the happiness, the capacity, the endurance to survive and strive. I know its more delicate than that. And a certain amount of luck and timing is involved. So it seems. There is only so much preparation and effort we put in to our training, before factors beyond our control changes outcomes. What happens, is a healing process. And after that, more work. It's over when we stop. But I can continue, one way or another, to find my way.

farther for fast twitching

Put a very respectable 10+ miler in this AM, to the beach, down the broadwalk and back. If increasing distance and going at it cnsistently, pushing that envelope is the key to getting those fast twitch muscle fibers into the game, then mine must have gotten notice by now! I am certainly feeling it. Sunday was 10, yesterday 8 and today 10. I could not have pulled this off before....It was amazing to pull up and over those little overpasses, to cross the intersections one by one, and to cruise home still on my feet. I once did the long loop thru Hollywood and felt I had to crawl that last mile in. One foot in front of the other; it really does work. It seems earlier is better. The heat and humidity are brutal. The sun was already high on the ocean by 7:30AM. So if I'm to stay commited to my routine, then I will need to be up and out as close to 6:30 as possible. It's gonna happen if I make it happen. I will be strong if I put the miles in. Whatever else is happening, this becomes my 'base'....and sets my confidence. Anything is possible as I keep setting those goals and realize them. Going farther, going long.

Full Circle

There is a Japanese runner whose goal is the run marathons in the slowest time possible as part of a spiritual discipline. (see Runner's World June '07) He runs many of them, takes tons of photos and aims to schmooze with as many people along the way as possible. He took his cue from the 'running monks' of Japan, which 'jogged' my memory (no pun intended) of one of my early running crossroads....I met the man who would become my first husband and father of my son in my early 20's. I had just dropped out of college and he was teaching. A reformed party boy, he was a musician who came under the mentorship of an avante garde drummer whose philosophy included a body/mind/spirit approach to art. In quick order I learned about macrobiotic nutrition, organic gardening, Edgar Cayce, meditation, the power of improvisation in many things, metaphysics in all varieties....and yes, that husband-to-be ran! He was tall, lean, intensely ethereal. His other-worldliness and commitment to his lifestyle was what gravitated me towards him. I was a walker back then. I began walking as a kid to escape the 'hot' house and discover the back trails (which still existed then) of my suburban neighborhoods. I continued to ramble long miles and was enamoured of this running phenome. It was then I learned of the running monks whose entire spiritual discipline centered around a routine of spartan diet and running mountain trails ALL DAY EVERY DAY in deep meditation.
So here I am training for what I trust will be my first marathon, reading about this little Japanese dude who runs as slow as he can in every marathon he can get to. Who embodies running monks and brings me the threads of my youth, my 'initiation' into both movement, marriage and spirituality. Even if the marriage did not last, the man I was with gave me lasting gifts. I hope he knows that. Certainly our son is the solid evidence of that, another soul with a love of movement, a glider pilot. I continued to walk for many many years. I walked away from many things, I walked through some tough times, but I never sped up until the time was right, I suppose, and something prompted my feet to lift off the ground.
I've wondered about being slow, and and the obsession with times...like everyone else I pen mine on my bibs and compare my results in my age groups. But I realize now its all coming full circle, its all about the distance. I always knew it was about going long, hanging in and watching as everything unfolds along the way. I almost missed it, lost my footing, fell out. I'm so glad to be able to say I'm still on my feet, in the race, getting stronger by the day, with my focus firmly in place.

the problem with sidewalks

I carefully mapped a new loop, a very solid 8 miler, that starts by taking me over the interstate and looping back to the regular route west and etc. I am running the same basic loop ad nauseum, and stay to the side streets as much as possible, taking to the sidewalks only when necessary. Those sidewalks watch me, hunt me and have grabbed me more than once. I've fallen and almost fallen now a handful of times. I'm getting to know every crevice and stretch of buckled sections, side curves and bumpers, swales and steps...and still when I least expect it, BOOM! Today I cruised over the overpass, the underpass and began the tricky negotiation next to the construction by the gas station when a guy on a bike headed my way just as the sidewalk began its wacky sideways dip. I side-step and catch my left foot right where a brick juts out from the concrete, bending my ankle into my foot....I feel the 'effect'...and keep running on it, no problem thinking, whew! dodged that bullet! And ran the whole 8 miles. Now I have an ice pack on it and am mad as hell....this is the first time I can remember ever traumatizing my ankles in any way and I know how delicate this can be. Apparently I have not made sufficient homage to the sidewalk gods or negotiated a workable contract. Maybe there are magnetic force fields I need to be channeling to elevate my weight just enough to hover above those buckling, mocking sections. Or specially designed shoes that scope out the landscape and sound warnings...how vigilant does a girl need to be?

We try to prepare and make so many 'informed decisions', when to run, and how and with what gear, what do we eat, drink first, during and intend to consume after, how much rest, what attitude and approach, what's our plan. Then it all comes down to a brick and a stretch of concrete. Many atheletes face much more dire consequences from all sorts of accidents and circumstances, either because of risks they take on themselves or by sheer happenstance. But each encounter with the unplanned and spontaneous is still a test of our ability to "take it in stride" and remember the distance and the goal, a much longer place, beyond anywhere we are in this world. Only our minds will limit us, only our attitude can really hold us back.
So once this ice does it job and my aggravation cools down, it will be back to the roads- and yes, those sidewalks- once more.