Running in Miniature

This morning's run was a loop around the Boulder Resevoir with an additional loop into the Boulder Valley Ranch Open Space.

As I ran it felt like I was in a bubble. Like I was in a movie set built just for me, similar to Jim Carrey's movie The Truman Show, or maybe a massive diorama like third graders make. The set extended west to the Rockies rising so quickly; the south and east flanked by the rise of the Boulder Valley; and north extending to Haystack Mountain and then to the Plateau that sends the atomic clock signal into space. In that massive set I felt tiny, especially against Bear Mountain rising to 8500 feet and several 14ers rising even farther west.

Within my 'set', everything seemed to be deliberate, like it was built just for me to see and experience this morning; all the houses, the fences, the roads, the rocks, the water, the footprints. Everything was perfectly designed to fit in with its own perfect place and shape.

There was a perfect stillness to it all, even with the wind blowing fairly strong. It also seemed like time was stopped; there wasn't much movement anywhere - no cars, no people, no birds - just me and my dog and the sun rising in the east.

Part of me was confused, part in awe, part in a deep peace, part of me felt the experience to be perfectly normal. Nothing about this made sense to me in any logical or reasonable way and still it felt entirely normal being a place I'd been in dozens of times before, including yesterday morning.

Maybe this didn't really happen, maybe it was a different reality, maybe my waffles this morning had some extra potency. Regardless of what it was, it was another great run with an unusual setting. After the run - well I drove off into Lefthand Canyon, through the horizon and my imaginary movie set, and back to a reality.

Chasing Squirrels

This is somewhat of a follow on to my last post about MentalStrength, though from an entirely different point of view.

Recently I began running with one of my dogs, Luca. He’s used to regular 2-3 hours hikes and running around during those hikes. The steady, quicker paced run is a little different for him and I’ve been working him into longer runs.

About a month ago I took Luca for a 10.5 mile run which turned out to be about 1:50. That was certainly Luca’s longest run and he did well. About 90 minutes into the run I saw a squirrel ahead on the trail, and I’m sure Luca saw it as well since he was running right next to me. I had an instant question – I wonder if Luca will chase the squirrel? With that came an almost instant answer, probably not, he’s probably pretty tired.

Luca proved me wrong as soon as the thought came through; he was off sprinting uphill to chase that squirrel and bounded right into the woods to find the tree it had scampered up. Scanning the trees and barking he was enjoying himself.

Luca didn’t ask how tired he was, he probably didn’t care that to chase the squirrel he had to go uphill, he had no concern about how much farther till the end of the run or how to recover. Luca just went. Pure instinct, no question, no thought. (Or at least that’s what I imagine.)

The question I asked from the Mental Strength post was; how to draw on or access whatever strength there is?

Maybe that’s where we get in trouble – when we start asking questions of what we’re capable of, or how to access it. Instead if we just follow what Luca did and just went for it. Relying on instinct and our gut to gather the strength and resources we have to use them.

Mental strength

Today I came across this article by Chrissie Wellington, a 4-time Ironman Hawaii winner. The article is titled: "Ironman champ: Train your brain, then your body." The title says it all, she talks about how important mental training can be and shares some of the technique she has used to improve her mental focus.

It's no secret mental training is important. Yogi Berra is quoted as saying, "baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical," which can be applied many things. There isn't much new in the article. In retrospect, I'm not sure why I read it, but it provoked other reactions from me.

As I read it, I was a bit surprised that I have almost never used of these techniques, nor any others on a consistent basis. I've completed many tough events, including multi-day ones, and gotten through some of lifes challenges. I certainly have a solid mental strength and I think most who know me would agree. So I wondered how did that happen? The only real conclusion I could draw is that it's practice. Being out there running, swimming, cycling, hiking, doing, over and over and over again. Until it's second nature and not much phases me.

The real question that came to mind was how to draw on or access whatever strength there is? What do we do in our heads, in our bodies, with our hearts to reach deeper? To make it through? Can we access it at any time? Are there times when it's particularly strong?

I've had a related conversation with a friend. She told a story of being on a run and just floating up hills, past her running companions, flying downhill, every step and stride perfect and finishing with a fantastic pace. She commented it was probably a fluke and that she couldn't do that again. The conversation continued with a 'could' versus 'wanted to'. I firmly believed that she could do it again, but whether she wanted or needed to was a different question.

I've been involved with ultracycling for 18 years, as a participant, as an organizer, as a supporter. I've seen thousands of people find their strength, gather it, build it, perservere. Even go deeper and farther than they thought they could.

For all I've done I don't have an answer for myself. The closest I can think of is something I remember from a book called 'At the Edge' by Kirk Johnson, which is a chronicle of his preparation and running of the Badwater 135 race. In the book Johnson talked about what he did when he wanted to stop in the middle of a run to walk or rest. He would ask the question - do I need to stop? There are times when stopping is needed for food or water, etc. Still I think that sums it up for me - there was no need to stop.

Or perhaps it's hope. We often need our strength in the deepest of struggles whether it's the last mile of a marathon, or the middle of the night on a 24 hour ride. At those times, we know it may get harder - and we also know it's going to get better. Better could be the finish line, better could be a sunrise, better could be a downhill, better could be a bowl of soup at the next town.

I don't know.

What I do know is that we ALL have more strength than we can possibly imagine. And somehow we call on it when we need it and it's always there for us.

Simple and Extraordinary

Tonight I went out for an easy run. A few miles to loosen up after a weekend of good runs and tough snowshoeing. It's a typical mid-winter Tuesday evening and it felt like as I ran.

Car heading home on an evening commute. The empty trees and brown grass of mid February. A sky partially filled with clouds, a light breeze. A normal light from the sun drifting off for the night. Leftover snow still on some sidewalks and trails. Nothing special about any of it.

Even my body felt that way. I could feel a few sore spots, tendons in my knees, my left hip with a bit of an ache. My breathe felt easy and smooth. My stride and pace good, but nothing to write home about. A peace inside me that felt nice.

It was all simple, normal.

Still within that it was extraordinary. To be able to run and to be running. To wonder at the world and its existance. To know the freshness of the air. The beauty of a tree or blade of grass resting and waiting for the soon-to-arrive spring. No rush to get anywhere to accomplish anything. Just a time to be outside, to be still, to finish a day.

Simple and extraordinary - or just simply extraordinary. Either way it felt like two sides of the same thing.

Running with Rumi

Friend, our closeness is this:
anywhere you put your feet, feel me
in the firmness under you.

- Rumi

5:20am

This morning I awoke at 5:20am as my alarm went off, not a normal time for me.  I lay awake for a moment with the question I’d had before and I’m sure others encounter – why should I get up, the bed is so warm, it’s cold out there. Oddly it lastly only a short bit before I slid out from under the covers and began the rituals of preparing for a run. Somehow that seemed perfect even under the question. I’m not sure I ever answered the question of why – why should I keep up or why not stay in bed. It doesn’t even matter, but I’m glad I did.

It was still dark when I began running around 6am. There were few stars since the clouds still hung from last night. The only significant light was a far-off pink glow from Denver. I’ve done plenty of cycling at night and thoroughly enjoy the quiet and the new energies that fill the body and land. It’s been a while, so it took a few minutes to get used to the darkness and the wonder and energy it holds.

What I noticed most was how quickly I noticed my other senses with sight being greatly attenuated. I noticed this a couple weeks ago when I tried running with my eyes closed with a friend. Sounds were acute in the still, cold morning air – the woodpecker, my feet gracing the road, the ease of my breath, the whinny of a horse perhaps saying good morning or take me with you, the echoes of the train whistle through Boulder valley. I even heard a group of 3 runners perhaps a mile before I ever crossed paths with them. Every sound was so clear and full. I could feel the chill on my face, and the slight breeze pushing through my jacket onto my arms. Farm smells that wafted from the fields to touch my nose and then gone again.

Slowly the morning light came and just as slowly colors came into being. First the browns and deep reds, then the yellows and greens, all the while every color becoming fuller. The sun started to show itself about 6:50. What a crazy, beautiful array of colors – lots of pinks and oranges. The sun peeked over the horizon, then slipped behind some clouds and appeared again over the eastern horizon of Colorado to warm the day.

One of the most unusual and satisfying experiences of the dark morning run was feeling like I was part of the morning, part of the dawning of a new day in this part of the world. Not just someone who wakes with light already here, but part of the change. That’s part of life – isn’t it. Being part of this world, being human, being here. Being part of the change and growth of this amazing place we call earth. A great reminder for the day!

I am running

I’m an athlete – I have been my whole life. Swimming, soccer, cycling, running and had my turn at ultimate frisbee, adventure racing, racquetball, tennis, downhill skiing, yoga,

Right now though I’m a runner. I’m approaching runner in a whole new way. It’s about the experience, the freedom, the ease. Sure I appreciate being outside, being in the weather, seeing the world, running with others, feeling healthy. The best part is simply the feeling inside.

I’ve also been reading books about running. Not the ones about training, or lifting weights or setting goals, but about the ones that try to describe the experience of running. The book Running the Spiritual Path: A Runner’s Guide to Breathing, Meditating, and Exploring the Prayerful Dimension of the Sport has the following passage:

“When I run, I "am" running. In other words, when I run, I become running. All that I was before the run, and all that I will be again when the run is complete, is of secondary importance. For the moment, I am the run, and nothing more."

In many ways this sums it up for me when I’m out there running – I am running. I am an expression of running. The flow, the grace, the footsteps, the ups and downs, the form, the moving muscles, the spirit of it. The feeling of that is magical.

The next time you’re out there doing your favorite activity – running, or crochet, or whatever it is. Try on the expression “I am <that>.”

Traction - A rite of passage

For 15 years I lived in Seattle and did a lot of cycling. Of course moisture and Seattle go together pretty well. That being the case everyone has two bikes - a summer bike and a winter bike. The winter bike had tougher tires, better brake pads, something other than steel so it didn't rust, thicker chain lube ... and fenders.

Fenders were a rite of passage to being taken seriously as a year round cyclist in Seattle. Without fenders you were shunned to the back of the group, if they even let you ride at all. Or you'd be told to hang off the back. They served a purpose - to keep the grit and grime from the road from being splattered all over the face of the person behind you and to keep you from being completely soaked with that same spray.


I'm now doing more running here in Boulder and am in the middle of running through my first winter. It's been a new experience to say the least, much different than cycling through a winter in Seattle.

With snow falling and covering the ground I began to see posts for runs that said 'traction recommended.' I wasn't exactly sure what that meant or why you'd need 'traction' after all the streets around Boulder were pretty clear. I joined one of these runs that said 'traction recommended' and soon found out what it all meant.

The run began near Chautauqua with a destation of Bear Mountain. The first part was good with clear trials so traction still confused me. As we climbed we began to hit patches of snow and ice. They'd lost a 100 yards and then be gone. Soon though it was all snow - well mostly ice at this point since it had been tracked so many times. I was doing all I could to stay upright and keep moving up. In my clumsiness several people went flying by as if the ice wasn't even there. Ahh - traction!

They had screws in their shoes, or Yak Trax, or Kahtoola on their shoes. They had grip and stability on the ice and snow.

It wasn't long before I realized that to run a winter in Boulder, 'traction' would be a good idea. Off I went and found a pair of Kahtoola - and I have to say they are awesome! What a difference they make - traction!

I've now had my rite of passage to becoming a true winter runner in Boulder where temperature, snow and ice (almost) don't matter!

Practice to Less Energy

I just saw this article in the Daily Camera and wanted to pass it along. The article is titled: 'CU-Boulder: Practicing beyond perfection decreases body's energy use' and to me it's quite profound.

If this is really true, it means there's so even more benefit to practice that just the practice itself. Obviously the musclature in the body adapts to new movements and the brain remembers those as practice occurs, but this is another dimension. In some sense this actually seems obvious that since the practice is now engrained, it takes less to invoke that and to actually do because the body becomes so efficient.

The body really is pretty amazing!

PRs

Today was my first race of the season - the Ralston Creek Half Marathon. Normally I wouldn't think about racing in February, but I needed an official half marathon to qualify for another event.

As I lay awake last night hoping for a little warmer weather, I was also pondering what kind of time I might be able to do. I've only ever raced one half marathon which was 15 years ago. I think my time was around 1:40-1:45, but I don't remember. With the running I've been doing lately I thought an 8:00/mile pace should be doable which comes out to 1:44.48. Hmm - maybe I could even set a PR and my heart raced a little.

Then my rational mind kicked in. It's February, it's cold, I haven't raced a half-marathon in 15 years and have no idea what I can do, and besides I only need to finish. I didn't rule it out, but it seemed maybe possible. Regardless my plan wasn't to chase a time, it was to run what felt good to my body.

Sunday morning and I awoke to a temperature of 7 degrees outside. The forecast was for 25-30, not 7. I set my first PR today - the temperature at the start was 14 degrees. I've never started a race or event when it's been that cold. I had no idea what to expect in this temperature.

Once we were off I felt good. The first mile was pretty fast and I realized it was slightly downhill - good to remember for the finish. From there we turned on a path following Ralston Creek. While the race is called Ralston Creek and I even read the course description, it hadn't occurred to me that the first half would be going uphill along the creek. The good news was that meant the second half would be mostly downhill!

I found a good rhythm for the first couple miles (14:30 at two miles, 22:00 at three miles). This was a strong pace and I felt good so I just kept going with it. Just past mile 3 I took a good fall making a turn on a patch of ice. I'm still turning to figure out how I landed because I only have a small bruise on my left elbow, a small bruise on my right hand, and a small bruise on my right knee. That was quite the wakeup call to be even more alert. After that it took a mile or so to settle back again.

Just past mile 4 we headed off the Ralston Creek path and began a 2 mile climb. Not very steep, but steady and a grade that was definitely visible. I'm slow to warmup and I was starting to find a good groove even in the uphill here. I was also looking forward to the downhill on the other side. The downhill started around mile 6 (45:00) and lasted for about a mile. It was on this downhill that we could see the next uphill as a ribbon of runners criss-crossing the slope on the other side.

Just for a moment I thought 'wow that looks tough' and then I swtiched to 'cool, that means another bigger downhill.' So I shortened my stride, and picked up the cadence just a bit and soon enough I was at the top at about 7.75 miles. Time to open up and let it fly on the downhill. I passed 8 miles at 59:30 and keep going. Each time I looked at my watch for the next 2 miles I was under a 6:15 pace - and really enjoying the downhill.

From there we were back on the path we had come out on which was much flatter and still slightly down. Now I could feel the run in my legs and my lungs, and then I started to push a little more. What did I have left for this last 5K?

Not long after we turned onto the creek path again, I heard another runner behind me. This was a good push for me, I picked up the pace just a little, just enough that we were working together to go faster! He was there all the way to the finish - he actually started following me after the big uphill where I caught him right at the top.

Remember that uphill that was coming at the end. Time to dig in for the last half mile - with my chaser still behind me. The last uphill wasn't very steep and still I had to dig a little more to not let up the pace. My watch showed my time at 1:34.28 at 13.1 miles, but the finish was still a bit farther. At the end I clocked 1:35.33 for 13.25 miles. A new, and quite unexpected, PR! Honestly I'm still amazed and what the human body can do.


In all of this I thought about PRs. I ran in high school and some in college, mostly 10Ks and shorter. I'm certain I couldn't reach those times now. I also know people who set running and cycling PRs well into their 40s and 50s. I'm in my 40s now so PRs are different. They aren't the absolute time they once were. They are now seasonal, or yearly, or even by decade. I may not get many more of them so I'm even more thrilled with this one.

It's all about the body

I’m rediscovering yoga. About ten years ago I practiced Iyenger yoga for a couple years which I’m sure served as a good foundation in the asanas (poses), however looking back on it I realized the focus was on the physical but from a concentration and focus from the mind. This time I wanted more than just the poses, but I didn’t quite know what that meant.
Being the industrious sort, I found a personal trainer/yoga instructor to begin a new journey – Shanti at Energize Shanti – and have been working with her for several weeks now.

A major change happened a couple weeks ago when Shanti said to come to yoga and the breath with the body, and not from the mind; from feeling not from thinking. It’s amusing that I needed that reminder because running for me is about the body, though it wasn’t always that way.

Today we were working with poses I’ve done before again with the focus of feeling them (not thinking them). Since I haven’t done them in a while and my body isn’t toned for this type of physical activity the poses were challenging, more challenging than I remembered them. I used my mind to begin and understand the form, and then let the body and breath do the rest. What a change that was. When we talked about this I related this to running. Right now running is a flow for me – it feels good, it’s almost entirely a body sensation now, there’s very little effort; but to get there  it took several months of frequent running and conscious attention. Running did hurt for a while and it was a struggle. The patience and effort have paid off with a great running experience now.

With yoga, I’m back at the those first stages of some struggle, having a conscious attention of the experience, the form, how it feels. It feels good actually to bring a this new kind of awareness to yoga and again to a new way of experiencing my body. We also talked about how it will be this way for a period of time until it sits in my body as part of my body – like running. If yoga can become that, I think I’ll enjoy it.

Today was a clear reminder of several things – the body knows, it really does; and patience is key in learning something new because it does take some effort and with time it will be much more natural. This isn’t automatic either, it does require that conscious effort – and it’s worth it.

So whether it’s running, or yoga, or swimming – give it time and listen to your body!

Careful what you joke about, you might get it

Last week a friend and I were going for a run south of Boulder on the Mesa trails. Our pre-run emails suggested a run of about 7 miles or somewhere around an hour. I was ready.

Standing in the parking lot getting ready to go she asks, ‘How are do you want to go?’ Jokingly I responded with ‘1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours???’ From there we headed off on our run going west on the Community Ditch trail. At about 4 miles we came to a junction and stopped for a moment. I knew where we were, and could have probably wound my way around on the trails in the area, but had no sense of how long any particular loop was. After a few moments of now what, we continued to head west. I thought for a moment, ‘I’m not sure how this will make 7 miles, but I’m game.’ And off we went.

A few more miles and we’re still going west. I’m beginning to realize this is no longer a 7 mile run! Still I’m not bothered – I was completely enjoying the run and the conversation and the company. Around mile 9 we ended up above Eldorado Springs – mile 9! This was the end of the trails and we headed back the 3 miles on the road to the car for a completely unexpected, and completely fun 12-miler.

Time for another run today with the same friend. I was planning on about 7 miles again for a bit of slow week heading towards a weekend half-marathon race. She was wanting to do 10 and I thought that’s only a little farther. So off we went again.

At mile 4.5 we reach an intersection and again I don’t really know the roads we’re on. Going left means a half mile out and then turn around and head back. Going right means a loop and loops are usually more fun than out-and-back. Going right probably also means it’s going to be more than 10 since we haven’t hit the farther corner yet. I stand there joking again about this run being a 10-miler out with the requisite 10-miler back. We go right (can you figure out what happens next?).

Two and a half miles later we come across some bridge construction. One of the workers – we’ll call him Grumpy – sees us running towards the constructions and heads out to meet us. It’s very clear he’s not going to let us thru or help us at all. We thought for a moment of climbing through some fences and running through some fields but Grumpy decides to pull out his phone. We’re not sure who he’s calling, but it can’t be good.

So we turn around to head back. Some quick math tells me this is going to be closer to 14 miles. Not quite the 20 I joked about, but clearly more than the planned 10! And we finish another great run together, adjusting to the adventure and enjoying the day and the run.

All joking aside … adventures like those are fun. They take you somewhere different, beyond plans and expectations, to just be with whatever comes up and wherever you are. I may think twice about joking around next time, but I’ll probably still do it – just to see what happens!

Listening

My normal mode of training over the past 10 months has been about listening. Listening to my body and what it wants to do. I had two goals of extending the distance of my runs and staying injury free. Those were my only two parameters. For any given day I’d usually pick a distance or time for the day and then let my body choose the pace that felt comfortable. That seemed to be work pretty well.

I also hoped to improve my speed, but that was secondary. Nonetheless my speed was steadily improving from May through about November. Each month my average pace per mile would drop just a little, even on longer runs.

I wasn’t sure what to expect of winter since I’ve never run through a winter before. I had visions of longer and longer runs (and staying injury free) and a nice steady improvement of pace. But then November hit, winter moved in, and my body said ‘hold on here’. Instead of pushing on with my vision, I decided just to follow my body. Running was and is still enjoyable, and that’s the primary aim anyway. Weekday runs became a little shorter and slower, and weekend runs I kept around 1:45-2:00 with no concern about pace at all.

Still, I am somewhat disappointed that my pace has fallen off. I have no explanation other than cold and winter is a time to slow down, so I just go with that.

Then yesterday. In the past 5 days I’ve had 3 runs of almost 2 hours, 1 day off, and 1 short run. I figured my Thursday run was going to be a bit slower after all that, still I wanted to get out. The first mile and a half was the usual slow warmup. Then I started to get into a rhythm and was feeling pretty good – overall a bit tired, but strong. I was running the pace my  body wanted to run and enjoying it.

Then I looked at my Garmin. Huh? That’s a pretty good pace! Alright let’s just go with it. Another mile and look at the pace again – it’s faster! Another mile and again a bit faster. I was rather enjoying this.

In the end I ran 7.2 miles, and taking over the first mile, I did a 10K at my early summer race pace from last year! I was a bit dumbfounded and quite thrilled at the same time.

How did this happen? Maybe it was a fluke. Or maybe the proverbial LSD (long, slow distance) that I’ve been doing for the past 2 months was paying off. All I know is that I’ve been listening to my body and just had a great run for it.

I’m going to enjoy this one! And hope there’s more of that to come this spring and summer! And continue to listen to my body.