It is 5:27 in the morning. I am actually early.
Imagine that.
I went through a period for a month and a half or so where I really despised running in the morning. I would wake up groggily, rub my eyes, scrunch them tightly closed again, curl deeper into a ball in bed and wish away my alarm. I would end up squeezing a run in the evening and then a cycle would start - I ran late at night so I wouldn't necessarily want to run early early in the morning and so on and so forth. I am trying to put this little period of procrastination behind me for a while. as my running partner put it this morning, "At least it's not freezing, if it were cold I would have told you no last night."
Yea... that's the other problem. I still have a certain fear of running alone uptown in the dark. Therefore, I need to reach out and establish some running partners as early as possible to ensure I will not end up on the treadmill the next morning.
So last night at 10:43 pm I started looking around for anyone needing miles in the morning. I had almost resigned myself to the gym when I got a text back:
"When & where?"
Love it. Truly.
We settled on Old Bell entrance to McAlpine - the old tried and true.
I got out of the car when the headlights flooded my side mirrors... looked into the car at the little white, wiry furball popping it's head up in between the seats. The jack russell was joining us for this early morning jaunt and just the sight of her perky little ears and bright, beady eyes made me smile. My running partner told me she woke up at 3:45 am wondering why on earth she had made that commitment at 11 o'clock at night... but by a minute into the run, she knew. And I knew. And the dog definitely knew.
Because this is what we long for. This is what makes us human and whole. Running does not rule our lives with an iron fist - but it guides us and nourishes us with friendship, challenge, and discipline. It teaches us about priorities, dedication, and the fine line between passion and obsession.
We were running back down the long straightaway towards the cars and the night was beginning to think about lifting. The moon was looming round and full, encircled by a pink haze - an island in the deep dark horizon. We respectfully turned out our headlamps to soak in the beauty of the moment and I knew this was just one more reminder of why I do this - why I put one step in front of the other when most of the world is still snuggled close to blankets and sheets or their loved one or the rascal of a pet that lulls them into a lazy morning trance.
2.18.2011
2.15.2011
it continues.
It has been a while.
I just spent the last half hour reading through my running log from a year ago. I realized that things are somewhat the same and yet somehow so much better now. On paper (or, on screen) I look so much stronger in February 2010. My weekly mileage is up, my pace is quick... but I was on a slippery slope and I was dead before the ship even sank.
It is a full year after I struggled through one of my first REAL injuries... one that put me back for months on end and played a heavy role in my weakness at Chicago last Fall. I am still struggling with days of not being able to run for this reason or that reason - but I am not injured. I have the whole year ahead of me. I have a marathon in 4 weeks and have done slim to none long tempos... but I am injury free.
My running partners and I chatted at length last night while cruising the streets of Dilworth about the merits of running for running's sake. And that the true goal of a training plan should be to NOT get injured because it defeats the whole purpose.
This I am taking to heart.
You can skip this next part if you'd like, as the boy would say, who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself? I am stepping back and yet I feel like I am stepping forward at the same time - I never have been one for high mileage and I don't expect this to change. I may want it to change. There may or may not be a part of me that secretly longs to have at least a 65 mile week in my books let alone 80. But there is a huge, overwhelming majority of the other parts of my body that never allow this to happen. Maybe someday. But for now - I am really and truly going to focus on keeping my body fresh and pouring quality upon quality into my mileage. I want to do more workouts - less junk miles for the sake of miles. I would believe I should take a full day off when I need it rather than push myself through a mediocre 8 mile run that leaves me frustrated and angry (frangry for short).
With that out of the way, I have some exciting prospects for this season. Running and training with the One2Tri team with some fantastic training partners. Completing my first triathlon (albeit very short). Getting back on some trails in the River Bound series. Racing one of the most loved marathons in the whole big wide great huge small world - NYC in November. I have many miles to go before I sleep and I am actually looking forward to them.
As far as my palate goes - the true reason for me beginning this blog in the first place... well. I have been climbing that nonstop mountain of JOY for quite a while. The boy's cooking continues to amaze me and I am finally settling into a place where I feel comfortable in our kitchen behind the stove as well. We've come up with this kind of rhythm in our lives... his cooking and our kitchen at the heart of it all. People always ask how it is possible that we do not have television. And I just can't fathom when we would actually watch it. The little "cooking noises" that wrap me up and rock me into a kind of sweet serenity - tongs snapping, oil spitting, the oven door opening and closing, water running, feet moving, the spoon hitting the spoonrest - these sounds are my music. My backbone to my day. My spine of love.
His soundtrack is my voice. He promises he loves it. It all started with my usual, "Oh, you've got to hear this." And it has organically grown into something of its own. We first read Same Kind of Different as Me from Ron Hall and Denver Moore. This inspired us to get in contact with and support the Urban Ministry of Charlotte which coincidentally is not more than 10 minutes from where we lay our heads at night. It encouraged us to engage in discussions with friends and family about the situation of Charlotte's homeless and to truly open our eyes and hearts when encountering these men and women on the streets. Then we started Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. When a new one comes in, we catch up on the global news from the latest publication of The Economist. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle has made quite an impact on our thoughts on everything from American agribusiness to the merits of dinnertable discussions. We finally stopped being lazy and checked out the local farmer's markets (of which, there are plenty in Charlotte). We have now found local oyster mushrooms that pair perfectly with pearl onions, pickles that are a nice addition to the usual cheese plate, yogurt that beats the bacterial pants off chobani, and spinach that makes harris teeter's supply look like child's play.
As for my running and eating life in a nutshell/clamshell/baked shell - I am in heaven.
I just spent the last half hour reading through my running log from a year ago. I realized that things are somewhat the same and yet somehow so much better now. On paper (or, on screen) I look so much stronger in February 2010. My weekly mileage is up, my pace is quick... but I was on a slippery slope and I was dead before the ship even sank.
It is a full year after I struggled through one of my first REAL injuries... one that put me back for months on end and played a heavy role in my weakness at Chicago last Fall. I am still struggling with days of not being able to run for this reason or that reason - but I am not injured. I have the whole year ahead of me. I have a marathon in 4 weeks and have done slim to none long tempos... but I am injury free.
My running partners and I chatted at length last night while cruising the streets of Dilworth about the merits of running for running's sake. And that the true goal of a training plan should be to NOT get injured because it defeats the whole purpose.
This I am taking to heart.
You can skip this next part if you'd like, as the boy would say, who are you trying to convince? Me? Or yourself? I am stepping back and yet I feel like I am stepping forward at the same time - I never have been one for high mileage and I don't expect this to change. I may want it to change. There may or may not be a part of me that secretly longs to have at least a 65 mile week in my books let alone 80. But there is a huge, overwhelming majority of the other parts of my body that never allow this to happen. Maybe someday. But for now - I am really and truly going to focus on keeping my body fresh and pouring quality upon quality into my mileage. I want to do more workouts - less junk miles for the sake of miles. I would believe I should take a full day off when I need it rather than push myself through a mediocre 8 mile run that leaves me frustrated and angry (frangry for short).
With that out of the way, I have some exciting prospects for this season. Running and training with the One2Tri team with some fantastic training partners. Completing my first triathlon (albeit very short). Getting back on some trails in the River Bound series. Racing one of the most loved marathons in the whole big wide great huge small world - NYC in November. I have many miles to go before I sleep and I am actually looking forward to them.
As far as my palate goes - the true reason for me beginning this blog in the first place... well. I have been climbing that nonstop mountain of JOY for quite a while. The boy's cooking continues to amaze me and I am finally settling into a place where I feel comfortable in our kitchen behind the stove as well. We've come up with this kind of rhythm in our lives... his cooking and our kitchen at the heart of it all. People always ask how it is possible that we do not have television. And I just can't fathom when we would actually watch it. The little "cooking noises" that wrap me up and rock me into a kind of sweet serenity - tongs snapping, oil spitting, the oven door opening and closing, water running, feet moving, the spoon hitting the spoonrest - these sounds are my music. My backbone to my day. My spine of love.
His soundtrack is my voice. He promises he loves it. It all started with my usual, "Oh, you've got to hear this." And it has organically grown into something of its own. We first read Same Kind of Different as Me from Ron Hall and Denver Moore. This inspired us to get in contact with and support the Urban Ministry of Charlotte which coincidentally is not more than 10 minutes from where we lay our heads at night. It encouraged us to engage in discussions with friends and family about the situation of Charlotte's homeless and to truly open our eyes and hearts when encountering these men and women on the streets. Then we started Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. When a new one comes in, we catch up on the global news from the latest publication of The Economist. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle has made quite an impact on our thoughts on everything from American agribusiness to the merits of dinnertable discussions. We finally stopped being lazy and checked out the local farmer's markets (of which, there are plenty in Charlotte). We have now found local oyster mushrooms that pair perfectly with pearl onions, pickles that are a nice addition to the usual cheese plate, yogurt that beats the bacterial pants off chobani, and spinach that makes harris teeter's supply look like child's play.
As for my running and eating life in a nutshell/clamshell/baked shell - I am in heaven.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
