Category Archives: Run for Your Life

An offering

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Boston2000

In times of crisis, I always hit the road. Sometimes solo, sometimes surrounded by my familiar pack. The breathing, the rhythm, the simple act of propelling myself onward, is a form of prayer for me. Running is my sanctuary; the running community my tribe.

This week, the miles mean even more, and I’m offering them up to those who need healing and peace. May we all find it.

“One might say running is an absurd pastime. But if you can find meaning in the kind of running you must do…then you may find meaning in the other absurd pastime: Life.”
~Bill Bowerman

800′s

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I hit the track this morning with no particular plan except that I wanted to run where I could use my headphones without fear of being snuck upon. I expected nothing in return beyond the usual attagirl from my ego and the notion that maybe I had burned off the calories from last night’s wine.

I plugged in a soaring soundtrack—the same one I’ve been listening to nonstop since December—and I ran. I tuned out and gathered speed, rounding corner after corner until I realized I was doing my least-favorite and most-bemoaned workout. One lap, two lap, break. Repeat.

Again and again and again.

Then, something dislodged inside me and for the first time in several months, I felt strong. And powerful. And dare I say, indefatigable.

My gut and my heart have been sustaining me all these months, holding me upright and giving me much-needed endurance. My legs though, they have been weary and weakened by the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other.

Today, however, these legs propelled me. And when they did, my lungs, too often constricted and anxious, filled easily. The knot of emotions in my stomach loosened and my shoulders gave way, allowing the weight I’ve been carrying to fall behind and offer a tailwind instead.

Lap after lap I ran in the muggy darkness until there was nothing left. Nothing except the wisdom that even as a mess of tears and sweat, I am undeniably intact.

*     *     *

Diving in

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The big kids’ first-ever swim meet proved to be one of those parenting moments I was not sure I’d survive.

Just being at the meet was an accomplishment enough, given the preceding weeks of anxiety (first theirs, then mine).

But when the time came for lining up, the kids rose to the challenge as they consistently do. And I rose too–dutifully standing behind the cones, a mere inch from the dividing line between parents and swimmers.

I watched my first swimmer dive in, then splash and squirm through the slowest, most painful 25-meter freestyle of my life. I very nearly vomited up a ball of nerves right there on the pool deck.

I witnessed my other child slip into the pool for the backstroke with only a
Don’t-Talk-To-Me-I’m-Nervous game face poking out of the water.

I made it through four events without tears. Each time I cheered loud enough to mask my quivering. And each time, our swimmers emerged beaming and triumphant. My face nearly cracked with pride.

And then, just as I was feeling stable enough to congratulate the kids without sobbing, Hubby leaned over and whispered, “Whatever you do, don’t think about that one Olympic commercial.”

Jerk. And there went the floodgates…

Still life with running shoes

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Dear running shoes,
Thanks for dragging my miserable butt through six miles this morning. If I had known what I was in for, I might have stayed in bed. Summer is here (as if you hadn’t noticed by my sweat-drenched socks) and although you weren’t around last year, you may have heard how much I loathe running in the summer humidity. There is no place for my sweat to go! Thanks to a pal’s suggestion, I am now tracking the daily relative humidity and obsessing over finding my threshold. Best I can tell, I feel like crap running in anything between 94%-100% humidity. And wouldn’t you know, it peaks between 5am-7am, exactly when I’m on the trail. I’m pretty much screwed for the next few months. So, my trusty DS Trainers, forgive me when I say that I’m hitting the pool and the gym…and I’ll see you in October or when the next cold front blows through. Whichever comes first.
Best regards,
Liz

Dear running chicas,
No, I’m not pregnant. I know I’ve used the misery of summer as an excuse to cut back on running while secretly prego, but that was a lifetime ago! That was back when two kids were a piece of cake and a third baby was going to just “ease into our family” without a hitch. I’m so much wiser now! On many fronts. And definitely not prego. Really.
See ya,
Liz

Dear body,
Ok, let’s get a few things straight. This new “summer survival” plan does not grant you permission to chunk up and bust through your Tempo shorts. We know that Austin’s hibernation season runs June-Sept. Do I need to point out how inconveniently this is timed with swimsuit season? Do me a favor and try to avoid adopting a winter layer of fat in the middle of the summer. You can start by curbing my nightly cravings for chocolate and tortilla chips.
Hugs,
Liz

Dear mental health,
Time to dig deep. Not much else to say. Talking only does so much, you know. Need I remind you that nothing (nothing!) gives us the endorphin fix like running, so it’s up to you to either motivate my pathetic butt…or help me find another acceptable outlet for all the spinning thoughts. Because lord knows the house is not big enough for a raging stress-ball mama. And if you won’t listen to me, I’m so not afraid to call Dr. Phil!
Much love,
Liz

Dear Austin,
About this time every year I question why I love thee so. Today, as the forecast calls for humid with a chance of sweltering, you still give me a few reasons to stay here during the summer. Like this one, or this one, or this one. Ooh, or this one. And when I really can’t take it anymore,  this and this at the same time.
Fondly,
Liz

Ballet hair

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Most every Saturday morning it’s the same scene: After a hard run with the chicas, I race in the door, sweaty, disoriented, hungry–sometimes just as Hubby is gathering up his keys–and I must immediately pull up Doodlebug’s hair into a tight ballet bun. The exactness and patience it requires is just too much for someone who hasn’t had her coffee or shower.

I wonder which is more likely…that Hubby could learn to do the hair, or that I could start running home faster?

Running peace

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I started calling myself a runner 16 years ago and it didn’t take me long to realize I had found a soul mate in the sport. Running helps me make sense of my world and guides me through both the ordinary and spectacular crazies of life.

Running quickly became my number one elixir and my every metaphor. I found confidence, friendship, power and patience. I ran to empty my mind of the spinning thoughts. I ran for laughter and conversation and sometimes to be “alone together.” On darker days, the mileage helped me shed anger, sadness, weariness or disappointment. That fact that running was cleansing may be cliché, but it was fitting nonetheless.

I still gain all this from running, but these days the sport no longer consumes so many of my hours or thoughts. Like many women before me, motherhood abruptly and decidedly hijacked more than half my life, leaving little room for intense pastimes.

This fact has worried me. I’m proud to be a hands-on mom, but giving up everything for my offspring was never part of my plan. And because running was such a big piece of my life, even cutting back a little felt like losing something. For years this loss has been a small, but nagging source of sadness and guilt.

What I’m finally understanding (seven years after I became a mother–sheesh) is that my running life is actually mirroring the rest of my life, just like it did a decade ago when I was young and unencumbered. Today I am paring things down. I am doing fewer things, but they are more focused. I am socializing less, but with more quality time. I am running consistently, if not quickly. I run when I can and run hard when I feel like it. If I race, I race—but I don’t lose any sleep about pace.

I am cutting myself slack and making peace with the undeniable fact that I cannot do everything I want to do with my life, all at the same time.

If balance is my goal, I must remember that balance doesn’t always mean equal. I think this has even been covered on Sesame Street…three apples might weigh the same as only one cantaloupe. Perhaps not equal, but somehow even.

So right now I’m focusing on three little people. Soon I will add more of my career back into the mix. Eventually I will pursue my long list of interests. Maybe I will bump up my mileage, or maybe I will keep running a relaxed pre-dawn loop around the trail.

For now I’m content. My personal scale holds a mish-mash of passions, responsibilities and dreams, but somehow it’s steady and balanced.