Thoughts From An Occasional Runner

1. Running seems impossible until I do it. 

When I say I like to run, I get looks of confusion. It's not believable. But I like to run. I like running five or six miles (sometimes longer, sometimes shorter) by myself or with friends. Last night, lying in bed, I wanted almost nothing more than to go run. I slept instead but can't wait to run after school today. 

Running seems impossible until I do it. Then it's not just possible but is the thing I want to do. When I run regularly, it's almost easy. If I haven't run in a while, the idea feels like too much, but once I get out there everything comes back. 

2. Distance seems impossible until I do it. 

I don't know that I've ever felt I couldn't eventually go a distance. I might not be up for a half marathon right now (though maybe), but I've always felt I could get to whatever distance I want. There was a time when five miles felt like too much. Now, five to six miles feels just right. The change came when I did the distance.

Distance only seems impossible. A few years ago I wanted to run a 50K. I started running longer but didn't train well. I'm terrible about obligations. Still, I felt great for sixteen miles, had trouble the next ten, but got through the last five with help from a friend. 31 miles was impossible until I did it. 

3. If all I read was Runner's World, I do marathons. 

When I started running, I subscribed to Runners World. Back then, the editors had the marathon on a pedestal. I had the feeling that I had to run a marathon to be a real runner, but I've never wanted to run one. 

At first the distance kept me away. Then I found I could easily do the half marathon. Still, I wasn't much interested. There were too many strict training plans filled with obligations. I wasn't into it. I started reading other things. 

4. Reading Born To Run, I just want to go long and longer. 

I'm reading Christopher McDougall's Born To Run (again) and just want to go, go, and go. Running is absolutely natural. We were literally born to run. Going long is natural too. It's just that we have been talked out of it. And the marathon isn't even some magical distance. The shortest ultra is the 50K, five miles longer than the marathon. 

This afternoon's weather might be nice or might rain. It doesn't matter. I'm wearing running sandals already and will change into shorts and a shirt once I'm home. Then I'm off. I don't look like a natural born runner, but we all are. Getting out on the roads and trails isn't some obligation. I want it. How long will I go today? I don't know. 

5. The proof is in the pudding, er, running.

After I wrote this, I went out for a hard five miles. I was tired. My heart rate was up. I kept going. Runs tend to work out. But things didn't work until mile 4.3 of five. So it goes.

Did this run disproved everything above? Probably not. I feel good now. There are two types of fun. Type One feels great in the moment. Type Two feels good later. Today's run was Type Two but still fun. 

And here's the thing: I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's run. 
 

Ten Miles, Wegmans, A Smoothie

Just got home from spending $235 at Wegmans for the week's groceries and back-stock. This after dropping my youngest and a friend at the mall and having my oldest drive from the mall to Wegmans on the highway. She is sixteen and her driver's ed. class will be on the highway this week so she wanted practice. Sure, why not? She did well and we made it to Wegmans where we shopped for an hour and a half, my girl in full command, me just following and paying the bill. Coming out, getting in the passenger seat, I looked at the clock. "4:03? How did it get to be 4:03 already?" I just wanted a nap. And a smoothie. 

I'm sipping that smoothie as I type this. A cup of milk, handful of spinach, one frozen banana, a heaping tablespoon of natural peanut butter (no sugar!), and a tablespoon of chia seeds. Delicious and nutritious, don't you know. I'm skipping the nap in favor of writing. That and I tend to make a mess drinking smoothies in bed while asleep. 

I wanted a nap because I ran ten miles this morning. I'm getting ready for The Fifty, as I call it and did two loops of the course on which I hope to run ten loops in August. I didn't plan to run two loops, but as I finished the first I felt good and wondered what it would be like to go for a second. Ten miles later I had my answer. You're thinking I'll say it hurt like hell. 

You're wrong. 

As I came down Euclid and turned into home, I smiled then laughed a little. It's okay. The neighbors know I'm weird. I laughed because it didn't hurt. I had felt my legs tire on the run, but not so much that I wanted to stop or was counting down the miles to home. I knew I would want a nap later (bet your ass I do), but coming up the driveway, stopping my GPS watch at 10.02 miles, I felt strong. I knew that I could have easily gone on for another mile or two and could have gutted out another loop.

I may feel differently tomorrow, but for now I feel good even if it is thirty degrees and snowing. It's Syracuse. These things aren't that shocking. And neither really is the run. 

The groceries are away. The girl is learning to drive. That smoothie was delicious. My legs are tired but strong. My feet too. I don't know if other people think about how strong their feet are, but I do, and I've got some work to do on them, but it's too cold to run barefoot. That can wait. So can the nap. I'm feeling too good to go to sleep just yet. 

Fifty for Fifty

I turn fifty this year and feel pretty good about it. Forty was terrible. I was lost to myself and within myself, too frantic to be of use to anyone. Approaching fifty, I'm calmer, maybe wiser, and not flailing about so much. I'm useful to those I love and to myself. I'm also ready for a challenge to mark the occasion. 

I have this idea to run fifty miles for my fiftieth birthday. Years ago, I hiked Mount Washington just to climb up something and come back down. That was a breeze, a delight every step. Even coming down in rain was so lovely I wanted to go right back up and down. Three years ago, shortly after Dad died, I entered a 50K to push myself to a new limit. That run was difficult. It hurt. On the fourth of six five-mile loops I didn't think I could finish. I barely got myself up for a fifth loop and if not for my friend, I wouldn't have gone out on the sixth and finished the run. I did finish and as soon as I did, there was no more pain. I felt good immediately and the feeling lingered. 

For my fiftieth, I'm going to run fifty miles on a five-mile loop starting and ending at my house where there will be a party, and I'll invite friends to share a loop with me. After the tenth loop, or earlier if things don't go well, I'll have a party waiting for me. 

Inviting friends to run a loop is a radical idea for me. I prefer running alone. Too much of my life involves having to interact with others. Running, I indulge in solitude, released from having to think about or solve anything. That I would invite friends is unusual, but this too is part of my challenge: to let people in.  

I don't want anyone to run the whole thing. Hell no. This is my run, a birthday present for myself, and I'll run it at my pace. I want ten friends to each do one loop, making each one a  slightly different experience for me and sharing that with them. I have invited Stephanie, my wife, to share the last loop as I'll need her the most then. She doesn't run but is already talking about training so as to join me. I've told her that I'm not sure how much running there will be, but it's a dream to think of doing that last loop with her. 

Then when we finish, someone will give me a burger with mayo, bacon, crisp lettuce, and a perfect bun. I'll run through the finish line into a party. 

Sounds good. Training sounds good too. I haven't run much and this can get me back into running mind. It can be a writing project too, chronicling the preparations and whatever it is I might come to understand. 

The day I had this idea, I wanted to get started on training, but I couldn't afford time to run that day or the next. I was booked. Oh crap, I thought. I worried that this was just an idea, a pipe-dream that I would consider but never do. I'm never going to get started, I worried. 

Except I already had. I had drafted this piece of writing, imagined the idea, begun planning the loop, and thought of who to invite. I was already excited. I started doing push-ups again and loved them. I didn't eat much sugar that day or the next. I felt the possibilities of the project and was curious what might be next. And I couldn't wait to get running the third day. 

I did run that day and it felt great. I didn't plan too much about when to run next, how much, or any of that. Mostly I enjoyed the run, the feeling of moving again, and moving with purpose. I savored feeling good. 

Running fifty miles begins with one step, I'm told, but that's not true. It begins with deciding to run fifty miles and this excitement I feel. The running, it turns out, is an extra benefit in all this. I have a long way left to go and five months to prepare. I'll keep you posted on the progress. 

Easy Running

A guy I used to know was what I'd call a serious runner except he wasn't often very serious. Frank ran as if there was nothing else in the world he would rather do but without seeming to love it. Running wasn't any big deal. He ran just because. I was just learning to run when I knew him. I read Runner's World and lots of running books. I picked shoes carefully and thought about hydration, caloric intake, pace, and whatever else I was told was important. Frank didn't talk much about running, never read about it, and shrugged when I talked about it. I remember asking if he thought I could run the 10-mile Mountain Goat race through Syracuse. 

"Sure, why not?" he asked. 

"I've never run ten miles." 

He shrugged. I asked about training for it. He shrugged again. He was blowing me off, but I learned later that Frank didn't train, he just ran. 

One time he described a vacation beach-run of about eight or ten miles. I asked how he knew the distance without a GPS watch. "I looked at the clock before I left and when I got back. I know my pace." Duh, he seemed to say. It seemed impossible he went by just the feel of it. I couldn't imagine such a laissez faire approach. 

One time at a retreat, he, a colleague, and I went out for a run. Our colleague dressed in cute, tight, color-coordinated running clothes. I was in running shorts, a tech shirt, and new Asics. Frank wore an old t-shirt, cargo shorts, and ancient running shoes or Teva's (I can't remember which). He loped off like a dog at a trot. My colleague kept up. I lagged behind panting like a dying dog. After three miles he had hardly sweat while I was drenched. He had miles and miles left in his tank. I was done.  

Since then I've traded running shoes for sandals or bare feet. I buy any inexpensive lined short. I like wool shirts but will wear any old thing. I wear a GPS/heart-rate watch but mostly out of habit. Though he's ten years older, I'm sure Frank still runs eight- or seven-minute miles while I haven't cracked ten-minutes over any distance in years. So it goes. He's fast and will likely always run easier than I do. 

As a novice, I wanted Frank's speed, endurance, and grace. I still think of myself as knowing only the tiniest bit about running, but have run far enough to know I most envied the ease with which Frank ran. The thing that matters is to just run, the easier the better. Such a simple lesson, but I'm still learning and doubt I'll ever finish the race for the understanding Frank just seemed to know without giving it a second thought or even a first.  I think too much. I'll keep at it until it all becomes just easy running.