The power of a smile

"Relax your face!" My high school track coach used to yell this at me during races. I would squint and tighten up my face and make some kind of awful expression. His critique reminded me to let go of the tension, not just in my eyes but in my whole body.  Somehow those words triggered a reaction in my arms and legs, and I'd be able to stride out, stop fighting the pain, cross into the flow zone, and run a better race.

I was remembering this during a recent middle school cross country meet. My eighth grade daughter is running, and this year she is the top 5 or 10 of the meet. She, too, grimaces coming into the finish line. Who doesn't? I think she could run even faster if she put just a little effort into practicing on her own, since the team only practices two days a week and has a meet on Wednesdays. She doesn't really love running though; she likes the social atmosphere of being on a co-ed team.  A friend whose sixth grade daughter is running this year and doing well said her daughter gets really nervous before meets. She asked if I have any advice.  No, I said. I always had sleepless nights before races.  I'd lie awake worrying about not sleeping or have nightmares about missing the start, about my legs not working, about wetting my pants, etc.  I'd practice visualizing the race or clinching and relaxing muscles like the sports psychologists recommended, but the thing that worked best was again something my coach said, "Let me do the worrying."  Somehow, sometimes I would be able to transfer my anxieties to him and sleep well. It really was kind of a mystical thing. If only I was as good about transferring my current anxieties to God. ..

I don't race any more, and running is now my means of exorcising anxiety, as I've written about before.  I still wake up early and limp through the first half mile or so until my body warms up a bit, and then I sort of grit my way through a few miles. Something usually hurts - my feet or knees, my stomach, my shoulder - but, as any runner will attest, I feel better having run than not having run.  I keep thinking that one of these days I'll age out of running.

Yesterday morning, the day after I had had this conversation about managing nerves before a race, I was running along the bay and had one of those rare mornings where running actually felt good again. The sunrise was particularly colorful, and the many of the morning walkers were pausing to snap photos of the sun coming up behind the bridge. I was still pretty creaky as I started off, and I hadn't slept long the night before. But as I ran along the park, I passed an older guy, who looked to be of Pacific Islander heritage, who was just sitting on a park bench, He wore a wide smile, perhaps from enjoying the sunrise, the park bench, the parade of humanity and canines in front of him, a naturally cheery disposition. He was greeting the day and the passersby with a smile and a nod. Maybe he just had had received good news of some sort. Maybe he just was a congenial guy. Whatever was the source of his joy, it was infectious. I heard in his smile, "relax your face."  I stopped squinting and grimacing and smiled back.

The rest of my run, I felt like a weight was removed.  I have to admit I had been tense of late, upset about this and that, but for the next twenty minutes or so, it all melted away.  And so did the ache in my knees and the throbbing in my feet.  My shoulders relaxed. I felt like I was running fast (relatively, of course, not actually) or at least comfortably.  These are the moments worth months of achy runs.

Thank you, guy on the bench. I tried to share your smile with others.  For the next few days, I'm going to remind myself to relax my face more often.  I'm sure I'll slip back into my squinty ways. But maybe someone else will carry your smile on.

Opening the road for other runners

Lately, I have been feeling my age, especially when running.  I have not been running very much or well lately.  My feet hurt from plantar fascitis that I think is compounded by wearing flipflops too much. I've had a sore shoulder for months - it may be a rotator cuff injury or tendinitis in my shoulder, as far as I can tell from an internet diagnosis.  I feel tired most of the time.  At age 43, I am well past the age for making PRs, but I thought I had more miles to run with grace; instead I feel like a creaky grandma in running shoes.

A running friend from Guam recently visited, and we rehashed some races, and  he recounted his own successes (he's at least 10 years older) and those of other running club members we knew. It made me miss competing in races and triathlons. Another Guam friend recently participated in a local half Ironman triathlon and did well. I received an invitation to join a team for a Ragnar relay. But I haven't felt good running for weeks, maybe months.

Running used to make me feel younger, freer, stronger.  But I haven't run painfree for a long time. Cramped, achey, and tired are better adjectives for the way I feeling during and after my long runs.

This slump will probably end with the right healing.  I've been making some changes and trying to do some strengthening and stretching exercises and to cross-train a little more. More weights, yoga, and swimming should help recalibrate my physical well-being after the busy schedule of the spring and summer took a mental and physical toll. And spiritual as well. Slumps usually apply across the board.

The good thing is with the return of our fall routine, we've had a return of a sense of well-being throughout the house. I'm only teaching one class, the kids' schedule is full but not hectic, and although or because we've had a lot of company lately, a sense of order has been maintained - at least I've stayed on top of the dishes and laundry.

Like the nagging aches of my physical injuries, I still have a fair share of things to fret about - the new math program at the kids' school (group work every day!), trying to balance the kids' social lives and family time without causing an insurrection, trying to prevent the toddler from becoming a tyrant. (Her latest tool of manipulation: to announce "But I LOVE it!" when something or someone is about to go away) But other conditions have brought peace and have lessened my summer anxieties - the college kids are busy and happy, the middle kids are happy, the youngest are mostly happy. Teaching CRE is keeping me mindful lately at Mass. Our cups are full.

So I'm hopeful that my physical aches will fade before too long without excessive reliance on ibuprofen. I'm hopeful that I can maintain, maybe not peak fitness, but a high level of endurance and speed, not because I want to compete for something, but because I like feeling fast and I like running far.

All of this background information is predicated on pointing out an article I just read about a women and running. A couple days ago I picked up an April issue of Runner's World someone left at the Little Free Library at the beach.  It was dedicated to the Boston Marathon. One of the feature articles was a profile of Roberta Gibb, the first woman to run in the Boston Marathon - albeit illegally.  At the time, 1966, the longest race for women was a mile and a half. I couldn't believe it when I read that. I do sometimes have to acknowledge a debt to the feminist movement.  But Gibb didn't run the marathon to make some righteous statement about women's liberation, but because she liked running far. She wanted to see if she could do it.

As she says about being turned down as an entrant to the marathon because of the limitation of women's races:  “At first I just laughed, it was just so ridiculous,” Gibb says. “I was running two or three hours a day, and it made me feel so wonderful. I thought, If only everyone else could feel as good as I feel when I’m running, it would probably solve most of the world’s problems."

Gibb was going on two and three hour runs in her nursing shoes.  She didn't even have running shoes, although she bought a pair for the marathon. She wore her brother's Bermuda shorts and a black bathing suit under a hoodie and ran without energy gels or performance drinks or compression gear. She didn't do it to prove a point or to make a statement but because when she watched runners, she wanted to run, too.

"...she stood on the sidewalk, mid-marathon, and watched the runners file past. Gibb didn’t know where they had started, or where they were going. But she was mesmerized. “I felt that I had witnessed an ancient yet civilized tribe that was in touch with the most primitive human traits,” she says. “They looked so natural. That afternoon, something inside me decided that I was going to run the Boston Marathon. It was an edict from my soul.” She began her training the next day."

Her training was nothing like the sophisticated regimen many runners follow today. But she still clocked in at 3:21. That's just about 7:40 minute miles for 26 miles. She was running faster than than until late in the race - which gets hilly - when she developed blisters.

Gibb held steady through the Newton Hills, encouraged by Alton Chamberlin, an upstate New York runner. He told her they were on seven-minute pace. And Stalzer continued to tail Gibb as close as he could. “I was surprised at how strongly she took the hills,” he says. “I had to work very hard to stay close. She was a wonderful-looking runner.”

Instead of being shamed and harrassed, she was admired by most of the other runners.  The college students from Wellesley College broke into a roar when she ran into view and formed a tunnel for her to run through. She also had another moving encounter during the event:

"Beyond Wellesley, Gibb noticed a woman holding a child. As she passed, the woman chanted, “Ave Maria. Ave Maria.” The scene struck a chord, and Gibb felt her eyes dampen. “It was as if she knew I wanted children,” she says. “And that I consider motherhood among a woman’s highest callings.”

Gibb was met by photographers and journalists and the Massachusetts governor at the end of the race and featured making fudge and looking housewifely in a magazine article.  She ran the race the next two years without a race bib. The Boston Marathon wasn't opened to women until 1972, and it wasn't until 1996 that her achievements were recognized.

"In 1996, on the event’s centennial, Gibb was finally recognized for her three consecutive Boston wins. The BAA awarded both her and Sara Mae Berman—also a three-time winner, in 1969, ‘70, and ‘71—their long-overdue winner’s medals. “Next to the day my son was born, it was the happiest day of my life,” Gibb says. “I didn’t feel any anger or resentment at all [toward the BAA], just pure joy.”"

Gibb continued to run and race for years and ran her PR at age 39 in the NYC marathon. She practiced law for many years before retiring to become an artist. One year she was asked to carve statues for race trophies for the Olympic Marathon Trials in 1983. She continues to create sculptures and paintings and to practice the art of appreciation.

 “My father would take me to the beach and challenge me to figure out where the ripples in the sand came from. I felt transported by the beauty of everything I saw, and I’m still trying to piece together the miraculous patterns of life.”

"...Our stroll around Rockport meanders through a wooded preserve. I stoop to remove a turtle from the road; when I turn back to Gibb, she’s staring at a leaf in her hand. It’s mostly dead and brown, but with two spectacular veins of neon red and green. “I wonder what made this leaf produce these colors?” she asks. “Isn’t it amazing, the miracles around us, if only we take time to notice them?”"

She thought about running the marathon this year for the fiftieth anniversary of her race, but was parade marshal instead. She has nothing to prove. She's over 70 and still puts in hours on the road or trails.

"Gibb never sought recognition for what she did. Instead, she has embodied a lifestyle that will sound familiar to runners. She runs for the joy, challenge, personal exploration, and quiet fulfillment of it. She runs to commune with nature and connect with her own animalism. She runs because something stirs her, and that is enough."

 I have to admit I teared up a little bit as I read this article.

http://www.runnersworld.com/boston-marathon/first-lady-of-boston

Reasons to run

On a completely different note, because I've returned to running and reading about running, answers to another "why": why run:

I run to eat.

I run for a few minutes of solitude.

I run to think.

I run to be healthy.

I run to make my resting heart rate more peaceful.

I run to have more energy and to use up negative energy.

I run to keep my legs in shape.

I run to be outside.

I run to hang out with other runners.

I run to compete with other runners.

I run because Chariots of Fire makes me cry.

I run for the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, even if I'm only racing my watch.

I run because I feel good when I'm done.

I run because every once in a while I feel good when I'm running.

I used to run to exercise the dog.

I run to have something to do with the kids.

I run to have something to do without the kids.

I run away from and back to.

I run because it helps me blow off steam, literally and figuratively.

I run to put things into perspective.

I run to see what's going on in the neighborhood, what changes are made with the seasons.

I run because I like comfy running clothes and shoes.

I run because I usually notice something to be thankful for.

I run because I'm thankful I have a body to use.

I run because it is a gift.

I run as a time for and a form of prayer.

I run because I love running.

And now I know, because I read Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen by Christopher McDougall, that I run because of deep seated biological necessity.  The human person evolved as a long distance runner to hunt down dinner, and so the human body is designed to run long, slow distance.  Or so he claims.

This book was what encouraged the barefoot running trend a few years ago. It came out in 2009, and Vibram Five Finger shoes were just coming out on the market. Now the trend has reversed again and mega-padded running shoes are back in demand.  I didn't buy into the barefoot runners, although I had some racing flats back in the day.  I can understand the arguments for barefoot running across a field or a beach, but when you run on concrete or asphalt every day, a little padding and protection from debris is essential.  But how to run isn't the essential message of the book - it's more about why people run far.

This book is incredibly readable, even for the non-runner, I would think. McDougall moves back and forth in time and place between a narrative about a contemporary ultra-marathon, histories of long distance running and running trends, a look at evolutionary biology, and the description of a "lost tribe" in Mexico. His style is entertaining, he throws out a few outrageous claims to keep you intrigued, and he creates interest in his characters.  He makes runners take pride in their history of impressive magnanimity and great camaraderie.  I might recommend it to non-runners looking for inspiration to start running as a means to find peace and health, and runners will definitely find something to enjoy in it, but it's not a must-read.  I picked it up at Goodwill over the summer, and after it sits around here a couple more months to see if any of the teenagers want to read it, it will go back to Goodwill.

But not before I note these quotes I liked:

"That was the real secret of the Tarahumara: they'd never forgotten what it felt like to love running. They remembered that running was mankind's first fine art, our original act of inspired creation. Way before we were scratching pictures on caves or beating rhythms on hollow trees, we were perfecting the art of combing our breath and mind and muscles into fluid self-propulsion over wild terrain. And when our ancestors finally did make their first cave paintings, what were the first designs? A downward slash, lightning bolts through the bottom and middle -- behold, the Running Man."

"'There are two goddesses in your heart,'" [Coach Joe Vigil] told them."'The Goddess of Wisdom and the Goddess of Wealth. Everyone thinks they need to get wealth first, and wisdom will come. So they concern themselves with chasing money. But they have it backwards. You have to give your heart to the Goddess of Wisdom, give her all your love and attention, and the Goddess of Wealth will become jealous, and follow you.' Ask nothing from your running, in other words, and you'll get more than you ever imagined."

"Vigil wasn't beating his chest about the purity of poverty, or fantasizing about a monastic order of moneyless marathoners. Shoot, he wasn't even sure he had a handle on the problem, let alone the solution. All he wanted was to find one Natural Born Runner -- someone who ran for sheer joy, like an artist in the grip of inspiration -- and study how he or she trained, lived, and thought. Whatever that thinking was, maybe Vigil could transplant it back in American culture like an heirloom seedling and watch it grow wild again."

"Was [a Czech runner] a great man who happened to run, or a great man because he ran?  Vigil couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his gut kept telling him that there was some kind of connection between the capacity to love and the capacity to love running. The engineering was certainly the same: both depended on loosening your grip on your own desires, putting aside what you wanted and appreciating what you got, being patient and forgiving and undemanding.  ...

"Perhaps all our troubles -- all the violence, obesity, illness, depression, and greed we can't overcome -- began when we stopping living as Running People. Deny your nature, and it will erupt in some other, uglier way."

"Like Caballo, the Tarahumara secret had begun working for me before I even understood it.  Because I was eating lighter and hadn't been laid up once by injury, I was able to run more; because I was running more, I was sleeping great, feeling relaxed, and watching my resting heart rate drop. My personality had even changed: The grouchiness and temper I'd considered part of my Irish-Italian DNA had ebbed so much that my wife remarked, "Hey, if this comes from ultrarunning, I'll tie your shoes for you." I knew aerobic exercise was a powerful antidepressant, but I hadn't realized it could be so profoundly mood stabilizing and - I hate to use the word -- meditative. If you don't have answers to your problems after a four-hour run, you ain't getting them."

"Running didn't just make the Seris a people. As Coach Joe Vigil would later sense about his own athletes, it also made them better people."

On running and the human spirit

Last week I was listening to NPR on radio after dropping the kids off. My dad has all sorts of conspiracy theories about NPR, but they do have interesting programming - one of the things I missed while in Guam, although they had BBC News, even better. This episode of Here and Now was about the 1972 Munich Olympics when 11 Israeli athletes were killed by Palestinian terrorists.  They were interviewing Kenny Murphy, roommate of Frank Shorter and a fellow distance runner, about the murder of the Israeli athletes.  It was a horrible moment in human history. A horrible moment for the Olympics. He says in the interview, "Until then, and I was 28, I had believed the Olympics immune somehow to the threats of the larger of the world, . . . It was an illusion, but it had been a hell of a strong illusion and it rocked me personally to have that shattered. I remember feeling what’s the use.”

The Olympics almost didn't continue. Some athletes went home. After a memorial in which, shockingly, the president of the IOC didn't mention the names of the murdered, the Israeli team went home. With a worldwide constituency, the Olympic committee perhaps was afraid of offending other countries hostile to Israel.

It must have been a terrifying and confusing time.  Mark Spitz, as a prominent Jew, was given extra security.  A Dutch 5000m runner, Jos Hermans, went back home, saying to Kenny Murphy, "If someone comes to the party and shoots people, how can you stay?" When the Olympic Committee determined that the games would go on, Bill Bowerman talked to his athletes and encouraged them to stay. "As Moore related it . . ., Olympians had laid down their arms to compete in games through the centuries. Bowerman said they knew there was more honor in outrunning a man than killing him. “One by one,” said Moore, “we came not only to see the truth in that but also to feel it. I remember Frank (Shorter) saying we have to spread the word by performance that barbarism only makes Olympians stronger. We have to say this is scared as I get and let’s go run.”"

1972 was the year America had its legendary dream team of distance runners. Bill Bowerman was the coach. Jim Ryun ran the 1500, Steve Prefontaine ran the 5000m, Jeff Galloway was in the 10000m. They didn't medal, but Frank Shorter won the gold in the marathon, the last American to win the Olympic marathon. THE event of the Games.  He was way out in front by himself.  This video makes me choke up, but maybe you have to be a runner to get teary eyed.  Moore placed fourth. 

As a runner, I wonder what I would do.  What would honor the slain athletes more, closing down the Games or striving for victory in their name?  What do you make of people who go out and do amazing feats testing human endurance, like rowing across the ocean or swimming from Cuba to Key West, to memorialize someone who died?

I have long struggled with feeling that running borders on being a selfish activity. It takes up time and involves some expense - shoes, race fees, clothes (which, seeing as I'm still wearing some of the tee shirts I got in college, I keep to a minimum).  And I'm not running to raise money for charity, even though I did donate a good part of the little bit of money I won in Guam back to the organizations that put on the events.  But even though it requires my family to make minor concessions to my hobby, I can't stop running, and I don't want to.

When I qualified for the Boston Marathon in April, I wasn't sure I would go to the race because of logistics and money. My husband kept encouraging me. When the bombing occurred, I felt more compelled to go and compete. The communal feeling of a comeback race amongst the tens of thousands of runners there next spring will be palpable.  Like Shorter said, "This is as scared as we get. Let's go run." It will be a celebration of human triumph over adversity, of dedication and devotion and perseverance, and of the capacity of the human body and spirit to struggle against limitations.  Almost like an art form or a prayer, running is a pursuit for transcendence over human weakness.

But since I still felt hesitant about committing to a race a year in an advance, my husband even asked my cousin when we were visiting this summer to tell me I should go. Her response wasn't what he expected. She said, "Absolutely not," and then argued that it was wasteful, selfish and vain to indulge in so much work and expense for physical fitness.

Her negativity almost compelled me to commit in a spirit of contrariness. Running is not just about the runner. It's about the community. It's about the human spirit, especially after the bombing attacks. Maybe that's not so evident when you wake up at 5 am to go on a long run all by yourself, and you complain and grumble in your head for 75% of the run, but when you show up at an event with hundreds of people from the neighborhood, you feel it.

On Sunday, my husband and I got up early to head to the oceanfront to cheer for one of the Navy wives in his command who was running the Ventura marathon.  I didn't sign up for this race because with our summer of "fun," I didn't keep up with training.  But I felt the itch to get back into long distance running while watching the marathoners pass by.  Despite grimaces and sweaty shirts, they looked like they were having fun, even the ones who seemed to be struggling this early on.  Runners and spectators were cheering each other forward.

I didn't write much about the marathon I ran back in April in Guam because so many other things were going on. Nor did I write about the two mile open ocean swim that my husband, 2 oldest sons, and I did just before we moved.  That's close to the equivalent of a half marathon swim - it's Ironman distance.  Both events went well. I felt strong all the way through the hours of competition - three hours and twenty three minutes for the marathon, an hour and eighteen minutes for the swim. 

Watching the marathoners on Sunday, I relived some of the moments of my race: following a Japanese couple for the first five miles when they stopped at a port-o-let, the relief of NOT having to stop myself, the fear when I figured out the splits the night before the race to make my goal - which turned out to be inconsequential because the race was marked in kilometers instead of miles, reaching the place where my kids had a cheering section with the scouts, the several miles I ran with one of the other running club members until he dropped off. I tried to encourage him to continue with me, but he was done. Then I ran alone for several miles and was overjoyed when a lady was standing by the side of the street with water just when I was really needing it - she wasn't a part of the volunteer group; she was just a generous neighbor who lived on the route. Bless her.  I had been praying the Divine Mercy chaplet when she appeared.  I also won't forget hitting 20 miles and remembering my mantra, "20 mile warm-up for a 6 mile race," and seeing the second place female runner in front of me.  She was slowing down.  I was afraid to catch her too soon in fear that I might hit the wall myself. But I passed her before the 5k left mark and still felt strong. Then I hit the last big hill with less than 2 miles to go. I was no longer feeling so strong, but I saw a guy walking in front of me. Passed him. Started passing half marathon runners. Made it to the top of the hill. And rode the wave of exhilaration all the way to the finish line, where I stayed on my feet through the shoot, through the snack line, to a curb where I could sit down and take off my shoes. Nothing felt better. Except maybe the free massage afterwards.

It's like reliving your labor story - pain, struggle, relief and joy.

After church on Sunday, we went back to the race to watch the finish.  A big party was going on all along the boardwalk.  Runners were limping around with their medals on, smiling in their sweaty clothes, drinking their recovery fluids and exchanging war stories.  We saw our friend finish and get big hugs from her kids.  I wanted to be a part of the running crowd, but I was also glad to be just a little part of the event, especially knowing how much it meant to me to have supporters cheering on the way.

Sign ups for Boston are in September, but now I know I won't be running in the 2014 Boston Marathon for a totally different reason I'll explain later.  And I want to cry from selfishness that I can't go. But the race will still be there the next year. And I'll still be running.

On Boston and Marathons

My parents called early yesterday morning to alert us to the news about the Boston Marathon explosions.  In disbelief and dismay, we connected to the internet before breakfast to find out details, which were few, but tragic.  Loss of life, injury, chaos, fear.  I offered the discomfort of my own morning run for those affected by the blasts. 

Now reports are out that an 8 year old boy, a 29 year old girl, and a girl from China who was a student at Boston University were the three people killed.  The details make their deaths more real, the loss of life more tragic.  I have seen numbers ranging from 140 to 180 people injured, dozens of whom lost limbs. Several of those injured are still in critical condition with head wounds.  But still no reports about why or who.

Checked Facebook to look for more rumors.  I had a couple messages from friends who knew via Facebook that I had qualified for the Boston Marathon in the Guam International Marathon a little over a week ago.  I let them know that I qualified for the 2014 marathon – or maybe it’s the 2015… I have to check.  The Boston Marathon is so popular, you have to sign up more than a year in advance.  And so competitive that you have to qualify to run. They don’t take just anyone’s registration money.  Which is part of the tragedy of this event – some people work for years to get to the Boston Marathon.  I read quotes from runners were steered off the course after the blast and not allowed to finish. There were hundreds in that position, who trained and sacrificed and anticipated and then were prevented from crossing the finish line. I feel almost as sorry for them as for those who were injured. In addition to the physical injuries caused by the bombs, many people suffered from the loss of their dreams. 

The outpouring of prayers and consolation have been encouraging. Politics and positions have been set aside for a moment. Everyone here is wearing race shirts today. I've already seen posts about memorial races. 

I can’t help but hope that these were random acts by a disturbed individual acting alone. Random acts of violence seem like one time only events, compared to premeditated, coordinated attacks like those threatened by North Korea’s leader.  I heard a news announcer list the number of attacks in the third week of April, around Patriot’s Day: the siege on Waco, Texas, the Oklahoma City bombings, the shootings at Columbine and Virginia Tech. Any connection? Knowing a cause doesn’t mitigate the sorrow and pain caused by the attack, but it makes it easier to understand.

So will I register for the next Boston Marathon? If I don’t, it won’t be because of fear.  This was probably an isolated event.  Remember the bombs at the Atlanta Olympics? There might be a more heightened sense of camaraderie and encouragement next year as a testimony to those who suffered this year.  Those affected by the blasts may be invited to race next year.  Perhaps some will have to race in the wheelchair category. 

After reading several news articles that all said the same thing, I googled the results. The winners from Africa were insanely fast. Will a man break the 2 hour mark soon? Incredible. And the women aren’t that far behind. I would have been an hour behind the leaders with my time of 3:23, which was fast enough to earn second in the Guam event. (The girl who won was from South Korea). I was pleased with the purse I won, but the Boston race offers prizes ten times as big.  Enough to live comfortably for a year, considering the American cost of living. I imagine in Ethiopia or Kenya, someone could live for a couple years off of that prize. 

These athletes train for these races as a full time job.  I trained early in the mornings as a hobby. I didn’t stress about the quality of my workouts, and I spent much less time and effort training for this race than I did for my last marathon, back in Dallas in 1995.  Back then I was coming off of a college track season. I was in great shape and I was young, still single, a grad student with time to train. I ran hundreds of miles, some as intervals on the track, some round and round White Rock Lake.

Now I am nearly twice as old, have six kids and a part time job. I rarely lift weights or run intervals on the track. But I have a beautiful place to run. And my time was only 10 minutes slower than what I ran at age 22.   I ran a smarter race, remembering the advice of a more experienced friend: “It’s a 20 mile warm-up for a six mile race.”  During the race, I thought about a running friend from Mississippi who died of cancer this year. I thought about my late grandfather who earned a track scholarship to college. When I ran by the Cathedral I was already halfway through the Divine Mercy Chaplet, the perfect prayer for pacing.

Running a marathon is a bit like having a baby – you spend days thinking about each step of the race, analyzing what you did right and wrong, and planning for the next time, even if there is no next time. For those in Boston, their memories will be forever returning to the finish line where blood and debris marked the loss of life and dreams. Sadly, for many people affected by the Boston event, there will be no next time.  But for others, standing at the starting line again will be a way to carry on, to confront fear, to challenge the body and the will, and to memorialize this tragedy.  The Boston Marathon has been run since 1897, and will continue to be a symbol of the human spirit's capacity to striving for excellence. 

Runners are a tough bunch. They can run alone. They like to hang together. The route we ran for the marathon was an out and back. The best part of the race was the overlap - cheering on other runners and being cheered by them. When you meet another runner, you know something about that person.  You immediately have a connection. Whether you're the fastest in the pack or bringing up the rear of a race, you feel like you belong to something when you're out there on the road together.    

Is running fun?

I think I have mentioned that I have decided to run a marathon for my 40^th birthday. The actual race is more than a month before my real birthday, which is significant only because it means I’m still in the more competitive 30-39 year old age group, but there are only two marathons on Guam, so I’ll be racing in April.

I found a training program online and started following it a several weeks ago. It’s not too time consuming right now, but I’m going to have to get in several runs of 2 hours or more. That means I’m going to have to get up earlier and earlier the next few Saturdays.  Most of the time I confine my runs to base because I don’t like worrying about traffic or dogs. The route is already getting old. I found someone to run at least a portion of the long runs with me, so the time spent running in large circles passes a little faster, but I’m still wondering if I really want to do this. Maybe the reason why runners are particularly susceptible to inspirational Facebook quotes and posters is because they are always seeking an answer to Why? Why run this far? Why use up what cartilage I have left in my knees? Is this really fun?

I ran one other marathon in my life, at age 22, several months after I graduated from college and several months before I got married. I was in graduate school, substitute teaching occasionally, and had no pressing responsibilities, other than paying my share of rent and utilities and feeding myself.  I was still in shape from collegiate running. I found it relaxing to spend a couple of hours on the weekend running around Dallas – mostly the Turtlecreek area or around White Rock Lake near SMU.  Then I could lie on the couch the rest of the weekend and read.

I ran a pretty good race – I think my time was 3:13 – and qualified for the 100^th anniversary of the Boston marathon. I was happy to hit this benchmark, since I had no real idea of how I’d do in this long race. Moreover, I knew I’d be in Rhode Island that spring as a newlywed for the historic event. I made notes on what to do to improve my time. Boston here I come! Or so I thought.

But life turned out better: shortly after the Dallas race, my husband and I were married, and by the time we moved to Rhode Island, I was pregnant and due to deliver our first baby right around the date of the Boston race.

Having a baby was more fun than training. So life sped along happily for many years in which I got good use out of a babyjogger, but I rarely raced, other than a couple of 5Ks over a period of 12 years.  When we moved to Mississippi, our youngest went to preK for a bit, so I didn’t need the babyjogger any more. I raced three or four times and surprised myself by winning my age group, and, once, the women’s division.

Now on Guam, there is a strong and healthy racing subculture. Every weekend you can find a road race, either a fundraiser or sponsored by the running club. Nearly once month or more the triathlon club holds an event. The bike club has regular rides. There’s a mountain bike series. There’s the Perimeter Run, the Cocos Island swim, the paddling group, the hash runners. Xterra Guam holds trail races and an international qualifying triathlon that attracts a relatively large number of participants for a small island. 

It helps that every weekend the weather is beautiful.

Many – if not most - of the participants in these various events are the same people.  Eventually you get to know some of them. You wish each other luck before the races and talk about what was hard afterwards. You chitchat about what race is coming up and what you’re doing for training. After several months of this, you have made friends.  You hang around after the race for ribbons and snacks and drawings for prizes. Fairly often I win my age group and sometimes get a coupon for a free dinner. Some races offer goody bags with coupons and marketing give-aways like pins and water bottles. I won a DVD player and a bottle of wine in drawings. Not bad for a $5 entry fee.

The drawback to these events is that most of them start at 5:30 or 6 in the morning. The plus is they are over before it starts to get hot.  Last weekend I got up on Saturday at 6 to run 12 miles with my friend for training and on Sunday at 5 to run in a 3 mile trail race. I was already tired from trying to get back into the school routine. I nearly stayed in bed on Sunday.

But after lying in bed several minutes, I realized I was wide awake, and I might as well get up. My son wanted to go (another fun part of these runs is that they are family friendly for the most part – great bonding opportunities). We hadn’t done a trail run before, and this one wasn’t too far from our house. I rolled out of bed, and we headed out.

About a hundred people were there. The route wound through the woods, down a clay hillside and across a stream that dropped into a waterfall. Back up the hill, a spectacular view provided inspiration for the second half of the run.  It was a tough course, but beautiful. And since the guy who was in the lead got lost, my son won, and I came in third overall.  For our pains and entry fee we received a cup of water and a handshake -  plus the satisfaction of beating some pretty fit looking guys. The race was its own reward, I guess.

I shouldn’t say “guess.” The race was rewarding. It was hard leaping from hillock to hillock and prancing across the stream. I wanted to walk the steep uphill. We were filthy when the race was over; our shoes were loaded with mud.  But I finished well, which is always satisfying.  And my son was really happy with his win, which always makes me happy.

There are few things that I am really good at, but I’m a better than average runner. I know that I wouldn’t be winning races in other places with the times that I’m running. In college I was a front of the middle of the pack runner, and I’d probably be in the same position in a big city race. Nonetheless, it still feels good to race, to win, to improve.

So even though it is not necessarily “fun” to do these training runs and to get up before the sun, it is fun to greet familiar faces, to be congratulated when hard work pays off, to use a talent that is God-given.  Being a decent runner is a gift that doesn’t seem to have any real service to humanity, but here on Guam, since the races are affordable and family friendly, running gives us the opportunity to interact with the community and to involve the family in fitness.  I like to think that when people see me out there, they see that you can have 6 kids and still be halfway normal.

Then again, maybe this isn’t normal.

and more...
"We run, not because we think it is doing us good, but because we enjoy it and cannot help ourselves...The more restricted our society and work become, the more necessary it will be to find some outlet for this craving for freedom. No one can say, 'You must not run faster than this, or jump higher than that.' The human spirit is indomitable." 

-Sir Roger Bannister, first runner to run a sub-4 minute mile

"The miracle isn't that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start." 
-John Bingham

"You have to wonder at times what you're doing out there. Over the years, I've given myself a thousand reasons to keep running, but it always comes back to where it started. It comes down to self-satisfaction and a sense of achievement." 
- Steve Prefontaine

"I always loved running...it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs." 
-Jesse Owens

"The will to win means nothing without the will to prepare." 
-Juma Ikangaa, 1989 NYC Marathon winner

"In running, it doesn't matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say, 'I have finished.' There is a lot of satisfaction in that." 
-Fred Lebow, New York City Marathon co-founder

"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift." - Steve Prefontaine

"The answer to the big questions in running is the same as the answer to the big questions in life: Do the best with what you've got." - Dr. George Sheehan

Quick Takes

...because life is going by too quickly.

A couple weeks ago, I think I repeated myself 3 or 4 times in emails or phone calls inquiring “how’s life” by answering: “Same old, same old. Nothing new to report.”  Rain. School. Eat, sleep, read.

Prizes from the library's reading contest

  

Jinx.

This week we’ve had:

1. A chipped tooth.  Permanent, of course.  Dentist seems to have done a pretty good job of patching it up.

2. A call from the assistant principal’s office.  I thought he was calling me asking me to volunteer for something.  No, he had my kid in his office. My kid?  My kid!!  Discipline drama.

3. First assignments came due in my classes.  Work overload!  (But I have to brag: I LOVE my lit class: it’s small - only 11 students, which means I only get paid 75% of the pittance adjuncts earn per class – but they like to talk. And a couple of the older students have decided they want to mama the youngers by bringing in homemade goodies each night. Tuesday I brought home with me a bag of homemade lumpia for my kids – enough to SATISFY the kids. That’s a lot.  This lady really wants an A.)

4. Soccer games! Cross Country meets! Football games! Scout events -  Eagle Scout ceremony to plan! CCD started – husband and I both teaching!  Archdiocesan retreat to attend! So glad nothing here is much further than 20 minutes away. And unless a heavy downpour has just occurred, traffic is a nonissue.

5. The half marathon I’m training for is less than a month away.  I’ve been debating the merits of GU, Chomps, and Jelly Belly Energy Beans with whomever will listen.  Still have to fit in 2 more runs longer than 10 miles somewhere where I won’t have to run uphill more than 30% or run from dogs. I didn’t used to be afraid of dogs back in my school days, when I was running around farmland in Indiana.  But those loose farm dogs would usually stay when you yelled at them; boonie dogs have a mind of their own. I’ve taken to running with pepper spray and graham crackers to throw to followers.  Have not had to use the pepper spray.

6. Have I mentioned how glad I am that I’m on a tropical island for election season?  I know, that means I might be shirking my civic responsibility, but judging by the acrimony on Facebook posts, tension is high.  I might just have to fast from Facebook until November, because it's hard to avoid political pronouncements from people I barely know. I don't want to read any more ad hominem attacks.  It's a little like the playground out there - "you're a hater if you don't agree with me."

The local elections here have quite a different tone.  Guam doesn’t vote in the presidential elections, but it has a local senate and a house and mayoral elections, and it elects a non-participating senator to the national Congress.  Lots of cheerful signs are posted everywhere with smiling faces of candidates.  Most don’t mention political party. Most don’t mention much of anything, except “Vote for me!”  I suppose the candidates’ platforms will be outlined in the paper at some point in time, but it seems a much less acrimonious process than the national scene.

I say that, but I did read some strong opinions in the editorials not long ago about the views on self-determination or independence for Guam.  Apparently, the recent remarks at the outgoing Admiral’s change of command stirred some emotional reactions. 

Finally, the best news:

7. My parents are coming to visit! Ecstatic! Ecstatic!

Recent photos, or "Why We'll Miss This Place."

The trail to Lost Pond and Shark Cove.

Tanguisson Beach

Shark Cove: We snorkeled here. No sharks, but lots of three-banded
anemones, trumpetfish, and other colorful coral reef dwellers. Forgot the underwater
camera, again, of course.

Regenerating starfish.

Lost Pond, also known as Mosquito Love Pond.

Trying on a coral hat.

A monitor lizard determined not to be caught by my children.

Taste the rainbow!

The cliff next to the Two Lover's Point where a
pair of native lovers jumped, their hair tied together, to their death,
to avoid having to see the girl married to a Spanish captain.

Thorny bougainvillea is planted all over Two Lovers' Point:
the tropical rose.

Japanese love tokens.

The bell "Love Called" is part of an arch where weddings are held.

Book rambling, pt.2: on running rambles

Now to the Murakami:

Perhaps the biggest difference between the two books is that Emily of Deep Valley made me want to do something for others, while What I Talk About When I Talk About Running made me want to do something for myself.

I’m not sure Murakami’s book would hold much interest for a non-runner, unless it is someone who is a big fan of his writing. It is a memoir of sorts about his training for long distance races like the New York marathon and triathlons.  He writes in a sort of plodding voice that rolls on and on, short sentence after short sentence, in a way that resembles the pace of a long distance runner – but rather than bore, it has a rhythm that is easy to consume. It seems Asian to me in its simplicity, but maybe that’s his writing style, not his ethnicity, coming through.

He does connect his running to his writing – more than once he says he couldn’t write if he didn’t run, both from a physical and mental health perspective.  Running makes him respect his physical self, as well as other runners. Running increases his focus and his endurance, qualities needed by novelists. It helps him concentrate and find clarity and strengthen his will power. But he doesn’t plan books while he’s running.  He doesn't think about writing while running, or much of anything at all, except running.

As a runner, I am not surprised to read that he doesn’t think about much when he runs.  Nonetheless, it’s still true to say running does help you think even if you don’t think while you run about anything except running.  Maybe it’s the oxygen to the brain.  Maybe it’s the focused emptiness of the brain while running that makes room for later thoughts.

I always imagine I will think about this or that problem while I’m running, but after awhile auto-pilot takes over. Primarily, I, too, think about running when I’m running. I think about how I feel. I think about my time, whether I’m running faster or slower. I think about trying to run faster. Lately, I’ve been recovering from a hip injury and have just started running again after taking about a month off, so I think about whether my hip hurts or not. I am totally in the moment, as they say, when running: not planning, not worrying, not thinking about anything but this run right now.

In a way, time flattens into itself when running.  Even though I'm counting seconds and minutes, they go by faster than they should. On the occasion when I do go on long runs, an hour is both too brief and too long.  And as I run, other runs come back  unbidden. I like to run the same routes, so I don't have to think about where I'm going, but perhaps that is what makes other runs present. Maybe it's another type of muscle memory.

I am not really a long distance runner.  I was a middle distance runner in college, and although I ran a marathon after I graduated, I shortly thereafter got married and started having babies. Since then, until moving here, I was on maintenance mode.  I ran two babyjoggers into the ground by running around neighborhoods for 2-4 miles, nearly every day with two and sometimes three kids and a worn-out bicycle on board.  I don't think I run as religiously as Murakami, but rare is the day that I don't run at least a little, except the one day every week or two that I do some other form of exercise to cross-train. Running was a survival technique and a way to eat chocolate without concern. I have to run, but I don’t want to put more than 20-30 minutes a day into it, because it is just one of many things I want to do each day.

So I was surprised a little that I remained in good enough shape over the years without serious training to do well in races here. Of course, it is Guam.  The competition is not too fierce. If without extra effort, I am able to win my age group and be in the top ten of most of the competitions I’ve entered, I wonder what I could achieve if I put some serious effort into training.

What I achieved is a hurt hip, this time around. I think this injury was brought on by running a race on hills after a 24 hour flight. I self-diagnosed as bursitis or ilio-tibial band tendinitis, both injuries related to stress.

On the other hand, I’ve been able to put more time into swimming and biking, which I've been wanting to do anyway, ever since I've been trying triathlons. Triathlons are painful. I don’t like the beginning of the swim – Murakami captures perfectly the discomfort of being kicked in the face or clawed at in the feet.  In one triathlon, he got choked up and couldn't complete the swim and so was DQ'd from the race.  The last tri I did, I started way to the side to avoid being clabbered. I may have added more distance to my swim, but since I wasn’t swallowing water and starting to panic from being touched, I think my time was faster.

And the transition from biking to running is surprisingly painful. I thought the runs would be the easiest part for me, but trying to use your legs to run after biking vigorously is a lot harder than you think. It's like your muscles go into rebellion.

Once my hip is 100%, I want to start training seriously. There's an Olympic distance triathlon next month, but I don't think I'll be ready for it. Is it an addiction to endorphins that makes me want to do this?  Why, when these races are so painful, do I want to put effort into them?

I can't explain this desire. All I know is that tonight I did a track workout, and I was thrilled to be back on that rubberized surface.  Even though I knew I shouldn't push myself too much too soon, I had a little rush of adrenalin that took over in the first couple 800 repeats.  I could feel myself smiling, even though I really didn't feel very fast. It just felt good to be trying to run fast.

Murakami's book won't win any converts to running either.  If you're not already a runner, you'll probably find it boring. But if you are a runner, it makes you want to put on your training shoes and go run for a couple hours.  

Having a job will curtail that a bit, so my consolation prize if not offered the teaching position is knowing I can reward myself with extra exercise. More swimming, more biking, more running. Not pedicures, hair treatments, shopping, etc. I usually feel too guilty about being selfish with my time to put in more than 30 mins or so of exercise, but I want to take a whole hour or two for training and see what happens. The adrenalin rush is addictive. Even just thinking about racing better gets the endorphins going as I sit here...

Here is an interview with Murakami at Runner's World that reveals more.

Resolution time

I've been trying to come up with some meaningful resolutions, and this year I'm going practical.  In the past, I've been a little more namby-pamby, which is a set-up for forgetting what my resolutions are (ah, the usefulness of a blog: Here is a link to what I said last year and the year before!).

But I still like the idea of resolutions, so I am not giving up at trying to reform my wayward soul.  Actually, after watching the 7th part of the Catholicism series last night on saints, I'm inspired. Fr. Barron comes down hard on those of us who excuse ourselves from trying to be a saint because we can't see how we compare to the giants of faith. He urges us to reject spiritual mediocrity, or at least to give up making excuses for not trying to be a saint.  So after watching this dvd, I realize I really should resolve to

1. Refocus yet again on loving God and my neighbor, especially, as Mother Teresa reminds us,* the neighbors who live in my house. Which in practical terms, means ... um.... responding with love ...hm ... maybe what I should work on is affirming others.  I often forget to dole out praises, among other ways in which I fail to love without limit.

and 2. Read more Edith Stein and finally read Story of a Soul.

So those are my Spiritual goals. I figure my list of books to read lays out some Intellectual goals. I am still waiting to hear if I am going to get to teach a class next semester, but even if I don't, I want to reread another Shakespeare play, yet to be determined, and Oedipus Rex. And I'm working on my syllabus. I keep getting sidetracked by good quotes and diversions.  I have to thank Sally, I think, for the recommendation of Perrine's Sound and Sense. A very sensible literature textbook. Love it. Another little gift to myself.

On to Practical Goals: First and foremost, I am resolving to drink more water. Water, water, water. I am vowing to drink at least one glass of water for each cup of coffee, plus water at every meal.  When I was in training mode back in college, I used to keep a water bottle with me at all times. I would drink 3 or 4 20 oz. glasses of water or diet sprite mixed with cranberry juice at every meal in the olde dining hall.  Back in my nursing days, I was always thirsty, so I did a little better, but I've realized lately that I can go all day drinking nothing but coffee. Not advisable in a climate where the temps never dip below 75. Wrinkles are showing up everywhere, which reminds me of those articles about supermodel health secrets: They all listed drinking water as their secret weapon against aging. I'm probably too late to slow the aging process, but at least I can try to avoid getting dehydrated on a trail run.

If I can keep up with watering myself, I think this will be the year I start increasing my mileage running. I'm already doing a bit more, but I think one of these days I'm going to do either a half or full marathon.  I have run one of each, and still remember the emotional high of completing them, although I think I have forgotten most of the pain.  I realize this is not a very forceful statement of intention because it could conflict with resolution number 1.  The catch: finding time to train without taking away from family and reading time.  Too many good things in life.

Finally, I'd also like to get involved in some kind of community service project.  I truly miss our visits to the nursing home back in Mississippi, and my minimal work with St. Vincent de Paul, where I answered phones and listened in to the always interesting conversations of the clients.  I also admire a friend here for being involved in foster care.  Our Thanksgiving service with Salvation Army was a good time, but it was a one-time event.  I haven't yet figured out where my place is, and "volunteerism" is not a big movement here. I miss being a part of a parish in the community, although I think we're in the right place in the chapel on base.  Excuses, excuses, I know. So I resolve to come to a resolution about this resolution soon.

*The quote from Mother Teresa: It is easy to love the people far away. It is not always easy to love those close to us. It is easier to give a cup of rice to relieve hunger than to relieve the loneliness and pain of someone unloved in our own home. Bring love into your home for this is where our love for each other must start.

What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family.

Beautiful morning

Our house is not in a pretty neighborhood. Behind our house is a state building that used to be a small hospital. Now it is where the water police park their boats. Around the corner, a couple blocks down is the military hospital, which has a large expansion project under construction. We hear trains at night. And although we have a view of the Back Bay to the north, it is marred by the high rise casino a mile down the street and the highway bridge that cuts across the bay to connect our little peninsula to the mainland. That view wouldn’t matter so much, if the neighborhood weren’t suffering from a decline because insurance rates went crazy after Katrina. People can’t keep up with their bills and their yards and exteriors. Those who can afford to move have, and those who can’t sell their homes rent them to the kind of people who keep pit bulls for pets.

But this morning on my run I saw:

blue jays
green herons
white egrets
tawny killdeer or plover
brown pelicans
black cormorants
gray mourning doves
diving seagulls and terns
chattering mockingbirds
cavorting swallows
and a pair of redheaded woodpeckers making a nest.

There’s also a pair of osprey who nest nearby. Sometimes we see them circling when we’re swimming in the neighbors’ pool.

Then I saw a baby opossum and its mama, playing possum. For the first time I thought they looked cute, their faces frozen in mirror images of each other. Their ruse worked; I didn’t attack.


Finally, in a vacant lot, I saw what I thought at first was a muskrat. It, too, seemed frozen, so I detoured over to get a closer look. As I neared, it slithered into motion – it was actually a mink! A limp indicated it had either an injury or rabies to spread to the pitbulls.


The critters all are feeding on the ripe mulberries and low growing blackberries that are ripe right now in the vacant lot behind the military hospital.

Beauty is where you look for it.