Resting is Hard Work

My training schedule calls for two “rest” days a week, on Mondays and Fridays. On these days we are supposed to limit the time on our feet, which means no cross training, no nothing. Relax, enjoy life; you know, rest. I am pretty faithful to keeping my Monday nights clear, but I’m lucky if I have even a fifty-fifty success rate for resting on Fridays. I get so busy, I can never seem to get all my runs in on the other five days. Which is not to say I inadvertently rested on a Wednesday, instead of on a Friday, but rather that I ran with the team on Tuesday, worked out with my trainer on Wednesday, walked two-plus miles home from work on Thursday, and all the sudden I’m out of days and I need to get one more run in for the week. There is something fundamentally messed up at being too busy to make time to do nothing.

I intellectually know that resting is an extremely important part of training (per the Team in Training guidelines, “Recovery days are mandatory!”). When we stop to rest, we let our bodies heal and are just that much stronger for it. I can think of countless times when the run after a rest day is particularly good. That should be evidence enough that it’s a good idea. But I think there is a the nagging feeling that chases many runners that if you stop and rest you wont start again. After all Sir Isaac Newton even came up with a LAW regarding being at rest:

A body that is at rest will stay at rest ~Newton’s First law of motion

But, then again, the guy came up with the theory of gravity laying around watching apples fall on his head, so I’m guessing he was not much of a distance runner.

Our bodies are actually very ingenious at getting what they need and they will take a rest day (or two, or ten) for you if you don’t take them proactively. Don’t take time off your feet and you are more likely to get sick (there goes three days of training). Ignore the need for healing and you are more likely to get injured (there goes three weeks of training). I would know, I’ve experienced both.

The time to relax is when you don’t have time for it. ~Sydney J. Harris

So, this season I’m working hard at taking my rest and relaxation seriously. My Mondays are, in fact, sacred, so I can count on getting at least one rest day each week. I have also reminded myself that nothing bad happens if you only run four days one week. And stopping to take a break now and then is not just good for running. How many times have any of us been banging our head against the wall trying to solve a problem and when we finally let go of forcing ideas, the solution presents itself to us as is by magic.

Don’t just do something, sit there. ~Buddhist Quote

I was walking home from the local grocery store a few years ago which included walking up a short, but steep, hill. A woman was about half a block ahead of me with two extremely full grocery sacks. It was obvious that her arms were heavy as she hauled them up the hill. About two-thirds of the way up she stopped in her tracks. I thought, naturally, it was because the bags were heavy, but she did not even set them down. Instead, she leaned over, planted her nose in a rose that was in full bloom along the sidewalk and took a huge deep breath and then went on along her way. You could have hit me over the head with a frying pan I was so shocked to see a real person actually stop and smell the roses. But the truth is if you don’t stop once in awhile and take in a big, deep breath, you will miss all the flowers.

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Running in the dark

On Tuesday evenings I run with my Team in Training group around Green Lake and at this time of the year it’s still getting dark pretty early.  For tonight’s practice, we ran on the “inner” loop which has no path lighting. This means we run in the dark. I have a small headlamp, but it mostly just allows me to see the time on my watch and maybe 1 foot down the trail. And my eyesight is only good for staying on the path (generally) and not falling on my face (most of the time), but otherwise I have to rely on my other senses to keep my bearings. Because of my pace (faster than walking, slower than running – I call it “slogging”) I am quickly by myself for all but the very beginning and end of the runs. Despite being a ridiculously social person, I enjoy having my running time to myself. When you run in the pitch dark, you are truly alone with your thoughts. Mostly I focus on my breath and tell myself to relax into the run. Somehow, when it’s just me and my breathing and the darkness, relaxing comes easier. Tonight I ran a negative split (meaning the second half of the run was faster than the first). Running a negative split is about holding back and starting out slow to warm up, and then easing into a more steady pace for the finish. I will confess that I have never been very good at negative splits. It’s not that I start out too fast, it’s more that I start slow, warm up slow, and then finish off slow – I’m usually all about the even split. For whatever reason, tonight, running in almost complete darkness, I was able to focus solely on my running and finally achieve the elusive negative split.


Party’s over, now the work begins

Now that the glow of the Team in Training kick-off party is over, and I’ve gotten my first practice out of the way, it’s down to simply doing the work. Probably because I am such a social creature, I look forward to the group practices and I pretty faithfully attend every Tuesday evening and Saturday morning practice session. It’s all the runs I have to do on my own that are trickier. I am actually the queen of procrastination and come up with any number of reasons that it makes more sense to delay my practice to lunchtime, then after work, and oh, maybe let’s just skip today (I only have to run 5 days a week and I take every loophole I can in regards to making that math work out).  Before TNT, when I was training for half-marathons on my own, I told myself every weekend that I would do my long runs on Saturdays. Near as I can tell, that never happened. I always, 100% of the time, delayed until Sunday. And here was my typical Sunday thought process – I can’t run in the morning because I just had breakfast; oh now I’m hungry and I can’t do a long run on an empty stomach, so now I have to have lunch.  I’ll just watch this movie first then I’ll go… I would delay and dilly-dally until it was literally as late as I could get away with leaving and still finish my run before dark (and I pushed that so far that I often returned to the trail-head in deep dusk). It’s almost a miracle that I was actually able to complete my training and run in two half-marathons. I suppose it’s a testament to my stubborn nature.

The structure TNT provides is a huge help, but my procrastinating ways are still in full force on those days I am left to my own devices.  I had coffee with a friend at a nearby coffee shop this morning and as I was walking home the inner dialogue started. It was almost lunchtime, so maybe I should have lunch first (never mind the huge, late breakfast I had that morning). I stopped myself and decided to go home and simply change into my running gear, then I could weigh my options. Of course, once I put on my running shoes and leggings, I just sucked it up and got out on the trail. Now lest you think I have turned over a whole new leaf, while on my run I started debating with myself about whether or not I should do a run on Monday (here’s where that 5 day math comes into play).

No one held a gun to my head and forced me to keep signing up for these races. And I love the races – the excitement of the day, the sense of accomplishment. But that’s five months down the road. There really isn’t anything all that exciting about doing a 30 min easy recovery run on a cold and dreary Sunday afternoon. On the other hand, there really isn’t anything all that painful about it either. So why do I procrastinate almost to the point of absurdity?

I went to the source of all wisdom and knowledge…the internet. A search of “why do people procrastinate” turns up a bunch of pscyhology-based content that describes people who are afraid of success, unable to make decisions, or are uninspired by their goals. Well, I was pretty clear on my decision to sign up for the race in the first place, and running a half-marathon is in fact a very inspiring goal for me. I supposed I could buy fear of success if this weren’t my 4th half-marathon. I am already quite confident in my ability to succeed. I found another series of links for ‘Temporal discounting.’ This is a concept where our brains are warped by believing short-term rewards are more valuable than medium-term rewards. (In other words, I’m going to be happier by watching a movie now than I will by running 13.1 miles in 5 months  – which requires I run 3 miles today). That may be closer to my situation, but considering I always feel so much better when I do go for that run (i.e., it provides a short-term reward), the internet may just be a bunch of bunk.

I think the truth is that the time in between the kick-off and the finish line is work. It’s not painful or unbearable work and it’s a choice I’ve made for myself, but these weekly training runs are just something that needs to be done. Fundamentally, I know if I don’t do the work I won’t make it to the finish line and that is not an acceptable outcome for me. I ran today. I may or may not run tomorrow, but rest assured I will run five times between now and next Sunday.


Soul of a Runner

If you were to encounter me on the street, I hardly look like an endurance athlete. I’m on the brink of my 43rd birthday, short, and about 75 pounds overweight. Running is not generally the first thing one associates with middle aged women of my size. In fact, if you were to encounter me out on the trail, running looks pretty much like the last thing I should be doing. I am painfully slow (it’s not too hard to walk faster than I slog/jog), my face gets bright red, and I am generally huffing and puffing like a pack-a-day smoker. If I was being sensible I should be out walking, not pathetically attempting to do something that only barely resembles running. I have walked a half-marathon and I can extoll the many virtues of walking. The training is easier, you see more along the way, and if you have a good walking partner you save boatloads in therapy sessions. But regardless of all I have going against me and all evidence to the contrary, I can’t stop running.

There is something inside of me that simply yearns to be out running. I see other runners and it pulls strings deep within. The other day, I hopped on the bus and saw a couple out for their morning run. When I got off downtown and crossed the street, I saw them again. They had managed to run downtown in the same time it took me to ride the bus and I could see from their back-packs that they were running to work. As soon as I saw them, I didn’t think they were crazy or wonder how they did it, I just wanted to be them. I wanted to be the kind of person who runs to work.

I think the other thing skinny folks forget when they see us larger-proportioned athletes out there chugging away is that we can’t see what we look like. I don’t see the red-faced little plump girl. I only know how I feel from the inside. I hear my breathing and it reminds me I am alive. I feel the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground, and the cadence is comforting, if not mesmerizing. I feel the strength of my legs and am in awe of the distances they carry me. I feel strong, powerful, enduring. Or sometimes its more the way I feel after a particularly tough run. The running itself can be filled with aches, pains, and frustration, but when I have reached deep down into the reservoir I didn’t know existed and found a way to propel myself to the top of the hill, gone faster than before, or when my foot crosses the finish line, I feel like I am on top of the world. It’s not that elusive runner’s high, but the even more addictive drug of accomplishing your goals.

Why running?  I have no idea. Does anyone really know why we have the passions we do, and does it really matter? I have friends who find themselves through art, music, cooking, or raising their families. It is just this thing I do. I have gone years without running for one reason or another and yet I always come back to it. People ask me if I am going to do triathlons. Maybe some day I’ll take on that challenge, but I mostly think why would I want to do those other two things when I could be running. One of my favorite race shirts had this on the back – “Run.” I guess I love it so much because it was such a great reminder not to over-think; just run, period. Why do I run? Because I have the soul of a runner. Period.


Why Endurance Events? Why not..??

The training season is coming to a close. We’re in the tapering phase where we rest and heal our bodies in preparation for the big day. On June 25 I will walk 13.1 miles in Seattle’s Rock N Roll Half Marathon. I haven’t posted much this season and I knew going into the training that walking a half marathon would be a far different experience than running my first ever marathon. For starters, I have already completed a couple of half marathons, including the Seattle Rock N Roll Half back in 09, so I pretty much know what to expect. And last year was so monumental for me in accomplishing one of my lifetime goals, that this season has been a much quieter, calmer experience.

Many runners experience post-marathon blues after they complete their first (or fastest or Boston or…) marathon. I did not have this experience after my marathon – mostly I was filled with a tremendous sense of gratitude and the enduring knowledge that we are all capable of fulfilling any goal we set our hearts and minds to. However, I will confess to feeling a little melancholy as I approach this year’s event.  I guess it’s a little like climbing Mt. Rainier after having summitted Mr. Everest.  Maybe it is because the anticipation is gone. The fear that you don’t know the outcome mixed with the excitement that you are really doing it is not present.  You still have to train and work for it because nobody wakes up one morning and says I think I’ll stroll up to the summit of Mt. Rainier today, but it’s just not the same. Honestly, I feel a little ambivalent and even a little jealous as I watch my teammates fill with excitement over their first time at “the show.” Oh, it’s not stick my leg out and trip them jealousy. It’s more wistful and nostalgic and it brings back memories of when I was in their shoes.

So, why did I come back? I have proven to myself twice now that I can train for and successfully run a half marathon on my own. I don’t need Team in Training to complete this event and, frankly, I don’t need to prove to myself that I can do this at all. I could have stayed home and had a pleasant spring sleeping in on Saturday mornings. On the other hand, I can’t imagine myself not being here, not being part of this group. For one thing, there is still that pesky blood cancer that insidiously takes the lives of young people far too soon (and I include my 41 years young friend Gil in that group). Training with a purpose, training as a way to do something more than just 13.1 or 26.2 miles, is one way I can leave a positive ‘footprint’ in this world. Secondly, training in a group, with people cheering and supporting you, is far more rewarding than training alone – even if the act of running or walking is ultimately a personal one.

But that doesn’t really answer the question of why do endurance events. I’m not sure I actually know the answer. For whatever reason, they are simply in my blood. Or maybe I have a bit of George Mallory’s “because it was there” sensibilities. I have 2 weeks to go before completing this year’s event and I’m already asking myself what I think I might like to do next.  I just finished reading Marshall Ulrich’s Running on Empty (thanks Mark Maraia for the recommendation), which lead me to watch Running the Sahara on Netflix, about 3 men who run across the Sahara desert. Brian left the room mid-way through because it was too hard for him to watch how these men abused their bodies, but I could not peel my eyes away. I have zero desire to run 2 marathons a day for 111 days in a row (in the desert no less), but do I walk another marathon? Maybe next year I could run the half? Dare I even consider walking an ultra event?  There are no definitive plans at this point and I promised Brian the summer for the two of us to be active together, but come this fall I am sure I will get that unexplainable itch, tie up my laces, and go out on the trail again, chasing the next mountain – big or small.


The world would be a better place if more people said “Thank You!”

I have been struggling with my fund raising this season. Last year I blew my own goal out of the water without barely trying. I raised so much that I now have a full wardrobe of TNT branded attire – sweatshirt, fleece pullover, back-pack, and was even able to upgrade to the hotel option. This year, not so much…  I am stuck at about 60% of my much smaller goal and recently had to fork over a credit card number in case I can’t raise the rest. Ouch. I was pouting and feeling sorry for myself and wondering why it had to be so hard. I guess I kind of forgot that it’s not actually supposed to be easy. I have been having such a delightful time walking instead of running that I sort of assumed it would all be fun and games.  In my quest to bond with other walkers, I even posted a comment on a discussion board about being a non-traditional (er, uh, heavier) athlete. Much to my surprise, I got this in reply from a fellow named Steve:

*Just want to say a big THANK YOU to Lyda for her work with TNT. I’m a leukemia survivor and a failure at TNT fundraising. I think asking people for money is harder than doing the distance. Lyda you did both!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!*

I was blown away as I hadn’t said anything in my post about fund raising, but it was exactly the message I needed at that moment.  I asked Steve if he would be willing to share his story and below is his email to me in it’s entirety. Steve and I have never met, but his words have touched my heart and inspired me to raise the bar on my fund raising efforts.

If you have been meaning to donate, but just haven’t gotten around to it, or if you have been trying to decide if supporting a half-marathon walker is where you really want to ear mark your donation dollars this year, or if you just haven’t been moved to give, read Steve’s story below and please consider making a donation in his honor.  Maybe $52 dollars for the age he was when he was diagnosed, or $6 for the years since the diagnosis, or $35 for the years he’s been a pilot. Any amount is welcome and every bit counts. And if your budget simply doesn’t allow for a donation, your emotional support is every bit as important to me and for that I say “Thank  You!”

Lyda,
I was very touched and moved by your wanting me to be an honoree but I'm
just a guy who was lucky/blessed/gifted (from others hard work) to
survive a bad disease.

I went into the hospital on Valentines weekend in '05.  I had Acute
Myelogenous Leukemia and was told I would have to have a bone marrow
transplant. AML has a 20-25% 5 year survivor rate  (I didn't find this
out till much later.)  but most people get it an an older age, I was
52.  My first question to the doctor was "How long till I get my life
back"?  He said 6 months but it was more like 8.   Being in the hospital
for a total of 93 days over 4 stays sucked as I'm an outdoor kind of
guy.  I had been walking 800-900 miles a year for 10 years after
quitting running.  (Running is hard work and walking is just putting one
foot in front of the other.)  I have been a pilot for over 35 years, for
20 years in hang gliders and for the last 20 sailplanes
(gliders/airplanes without engines). And I did a lot of outdoor/field
work with my job.  (I'm a tech in earthquake research)

I received a tremendous amount of support from my wife and son, father
and siblings, the doctors and nurses, co-workers, friends and strangers
and one of the biggest was the wonderful cells from my sister. These are
the people that did the hard work I just stayed in the hospital and got
taken care of.  No way was I going to let them down.  I have been very
lucky through all this, I kept my job and was able to work part time as
my strength came back, my insurance paid the (huge) bill, my sisters
cells work perfectly ( I was off the anti-rejection drugs in a few
months with just the right touch of graft vs host).  I remember the day
during recovery I walked to the corner, it was a big deal!

In '08 I got the idea for doing a half marathon but as I was already
doing 8-10 mile walks I thought that a marathon would be more of a
challenge.  So after 8 weeks of training I did San Diego Rock and Roll
in 6:10.  You know how that feels.  I signed up for TNT for the next
year but didn't like asking people for money so I came up short of the
needed amount.  I paid my way and did the marathon in 5:38.   Last year
I did it for the LLS "Make Cures Happen" and was able to get a few
hundred in donations.  I'm better in giving money than raising it.  I
also broke 5:30 with a 5:24 finish.  For me the hard part of training
was 14-16 mile walks so I never let myself get out of condition.  In
2010 I did 51 walks of half marathon distance or better.  I always feel
so good after a long walk.  But after weekends of 18, 18, 20 and 20 mile
walks training for Carlsbad I hurt my foot (planner fachitis- misspelled
I'm sure).  It's slowly getting better and I should be able to do the La
Jolla half on the 17th.  Then training starts for real for SD R&R in
early June.

Maybe more of my story than you wanted.

I just wanted to thank you as I try to do with others from TNT when I
get a chance.  Your raising funds for LLS helps real people (like me).
The world would be a better place if more people said "Thank You!".  So
once again THANK YOU!

Steve

Reasons why walking a half marathon is better than running a whole marathon

Don’t get me wrong, running a marathon changed my life forever and not much else is going to compare to that, but I have to say I am finding quite a few benefits to walking a half marathon this time around…

  • Your body is not in physical pain – this is a novelty that continues to surprise me, even 2 months into my training. I can walk for an hour or two and although I might be tired, I don’t have to take an ice bath just to get from sitting to standing and back again.
  • You can have a glass of wine (or two…) the night before your long training day without, well, any negative consequences. And, hey, I’m all about a training program that lets me have a glass of wine on Friday after work!
  • You can talk and walk at the same time. I know, I know, theoretically that’s supposed to be true when running too, but no one ran as slow as I did and I was too fast for the walkers, so there wasn’t really anyone to talk to…
  • No Energy Gel. Let’s face it, that stuff is disgusting. I learned to accept and adapt to it as it allowed me to go 26.2 miles, but I can’t say enough how excited I am to be functioning on Cliff Bars instead of Cliff Energy Gel (which, btw, I liked far better than Gu, not that that is saying much).
  • You’re not totally wiped out 100% of the time. The long training days actually energize me instead of totally ruining my energy for the next 2 or 3 days or all week.

The one thing that hasn’t changed from last year to this year is the young people suffering from Leukemia and Lymphoma. I’m still about $650 from my fund-raising goal and need your help in the fight to eradicate blood cancers. Please consider a $50 donation – if only 13 people gave that amount, I would have it!

Make a donation here.