The past few months have passed quickly and slowly at the same time. Some days flew by without my remembering what exactly I did from dawn until dusk. Other days seemed to toil away from second to second, measured almost in breaths. I've been away from the blogging since Grandma passed away, but the running has been somewhat consistent. Here's what's been happening:
I took an 8-mile run with my Dad and Mom in February (an unprecedented and rare event), and while many of our past memories of "quality time" involved some sort of external event, this run was an internal event. It seemed particularly special because I could actually see and hear our relationships more intensely.
Running has a way of heightening the senses - moving the physical body repetitively for a prolonged amount of time will either dull the brain, or make you acutely aware of every little thing going on around and inside you. I became acutely aware of how determined my mom was to end the run as soon as possible, and how supportive my dad was in terms of coaching my run. I learned where I get my mental grit (Mom, insisting we press ahead quickly) and where I get my patience and endurance (Dad, pacing the strides and humming Michael Jackson's "Beat It" to get us through the last two miles).
Dad told me some great memories about his childhood as we ran through old Cincinnati. Secret to that golf swing? Holding his head still..compliments of my grandfather, who never ceased to harass Dad during a lesson by physically holding Dad's head between his hands while my father swung away. Apparently this drove him nuts, but it paid off in recent kudos from a pro.
During the 6th or 7th mile, my dad mentioned that there were two things to do when the miles seemed endless: think of a song, and/or pray. This tip came in handy this past weekend, when I finished the half-marathon in Queens.
Before I get to that though, a few highlights from the March sequence of weekend runs:
Running in three different states - New York, California, and Ohio. Outdoors. Despite the chill, this was preferable to a treadmill! There was never a dull weekend - I was somewhere new each time!
Traipsing through the hills of the Upper Rouge Valley trail at Rancho on a Monday afternoon, and having the whole area completely to myself (not a soul in sight!), save for two deers, rabbits, and a family of quails. For those of you familiar with the views at the top of those hills, you can imagine how wonderful it was to not even hear another human.
Tapering last weekend with a 5-mile run alongside the Hudson River, feeling proud that it seemed like such a manageable, short distance.
Then, this past weekend, the final arrival of the half marathon. I forgot how much mental work it takes to push the aching body to any speed faster than a jog at the end of the race, and was sorely reminded of the physical aftershocks while trying to descend stairs later that day. The event took place in Queens, a borough of New York City, in a place called Flushing - more precisely, the park where the World's Fair was held. You remember those two towers with the UFO-like cement rotundas perched atop, from the movie Men In Black? Yep, that's where we were - running laps around them, and the Queens Zoo.
I awoke in the morning, not very excited about this race. I just wanted it over and done with. Part of me felt burdened, but I couldn't place my finger on what was particularly bothersome. A long subway ride out to Queens, and then a search for the bag drop area and a bit of trekking around to find the start line left me feeling tired already. I was pretty resigned during the beginning, explaining to Shannon how the crowd would surge at the start, then thin out, how we had to keep our own pace...as it happened, the crowd pulsed and we upped our mile time to 10:00 for the first 3 miles. (Granted, we had been training at a 12:00 mile for three months). That's adrenaline for you.
I had reminded Shannon repeatedly that if we were to get separated, it would be for the best, as we had to run our own races: I was so proud when she took off after 4 miles and finished in under 2:30! I took my time, bonking out at mile 6 or 7, having to recharge with some GU, then employ that great trick, prayer. For two solid miles, I was the most grateful person on that track. I was surprised at how many things I could list, how richly my life was fulfilled. It became a mantra: "Thank you for..." Every breath became thanks, and I wasn't concentrating anymore on how tired my feet were, how sore my left hip was, or how icy the headwind was.
Then came the surge to the finish. I had asked myself throughout the race, "What do I have to prove anymore?" The truth was, I knew I could run this far. In fact, I knew I could run twice that far. But I had done this to prove that I could still do it. So at that last .1 of the race, I somehow sped up and passed two people on my way through the flags.
Shannon was there to see me and we burst into tears, disbelief and relief that it as finally over. I didn't really take stock of it until that moment: how long we had trained, how far we had gone, and how fast we ended up running on the day of the event. I had averaged a sub 12:00 mile, and still had life left in my body to hobble back onto the train to go home. We got limited swag: a green tee and a spinning medal. (We skipped the beer garden party since neither of us wanted to walk any further than the subway stop.) However, the long haul through the winter was the real prize - I am officially ready to conquer the Antarctic wilderness in my Mizunos.
Anyone training for a long-distance race should train in the warmer months. Only crazies freeze their butts off for three months in order to run the first race of the spring season.
All in all, I learned that I'm still capable of running far distances, and I've found that I can run both inside and outside for long periods of time (and under extreme weather conditions). But now that I've proved it to myself, I don't feel the need to prove it again for some time. Shannon is eager to do another race, so I've agreed to find a 5K, and this time we can concentrate on speed. Somehow, knowing the thing is going to be over in less than 30 minutes makes me feel a lot more optimistic about training.
Til next time, Marathon Fans!
