A Slower Rhythm

Since running the Tunnel Marathon several weeks ago, I’ve been in recovery mode. I had read and heard many times that after running a marathon, recovery can take four weeks or more. I have to say I was a little skeptical and disbelieving, but not without reason either. For all the ultracycling I did, recovery came pretty quickly, and really it had to be quick because long events were sometimes just two or three weeks apart. The difference is the intensity – I raced the marathon, whereas the cycling was paced and also knowing there was another ride coming.

This has been another new phase of learning and patience. My body really has wanted to slow down, and even sleep a lot. I’ve had a couple of massages since the marathon as well and both really moved a lot of soreness out of my body. Even the desire to go running is reduced. There is still desire and there’s also my body quietly speaking its own voice of ‘not today’.

I have been out for a few runs, probably just two a week. For the first couple, I felt like I had someone else’s legs. My stride was awkward and stiff, armswing was shortened, I felt like I was running flatfooted. Forget about any kind of pace either, it was just simply slow, or at least slow by my standards. Still I could appreciate that I could still run. The runs the past couple days have finally extended to over an hour again. Still quite slow, or at least they seem so. I’m not running with a watch because right now it’s not a focus. What I’m finding again is simply the need to listen to my body and what it needs, and certainly speed is nowhere on that list.

With a slower flow of the run, I’ve also had the chance to again find the meditative quality of the run when there’s no particular focus like pacing. Even on this morning’s run I was really able to find a deep peace in the run, I even stopped for a few minutes in the middle of the run on the top of a hill, faced the sun, and meditated soaking in the new day.

The marathon was amazing, and even intense. Recovery has been another surprising journey as well, even with its own concentration on a slow, easy rhythm. So despite the usual fullness of summer, I am quite enjoying a relaxing beginning. That beginning will surely lead to more running joy as well.

A different kind of wall

When you read about marathon running, it’s fairly common to read about ‘the wall’. ‘The wall’ usually being somewhere around mile 18 to 22 where there is a significant drop in energy level. As I’ve read about the wall, the distance of 18-22 seems about right given that the body will run out of normal carbo stores around that point. It’s also the point just beyond most training plans. Most training plans stop around mile 20, so it’s no wonder the body does a double-take around the point of reaching new ground.

I felt like I’d done enough long runs, both distance and time, to avoid the wall. My longest run was about 3:15, so longer than my actual race time. That run was 24 miles, so not quite as long as the race. I’d done 6 runs of more than 20 miles and 3 runs longer than 3 hours. During those runs I worked on nutrition as well to ensure my stomach could tolerate food during the race. Even during the race I kept up my water intake and ate almost 250 calories an hour of mostly Hammer Gel.

Still, come mile 22 I hit my own wall. I wasn’t out of energy – I felt good. My mind was still functioning well – I know because I could still do math in my head including calculating average pace. But there it was, my legs, more specifically both calves and my right hamstring, quite quickly were in a near-cramp state. Perhaps it was the effort and pace, perhaps it wasn’t enough salt intake (though I had plenty of that too), perhaps it was new territory. Anyway - there I was.

Now what? I hadn’t prepared myself for hitting a wall. I went through the strategies I knew. I tried focusing on breathing. I tried sending breath and energy to my legs to relieve some of the near-cramp. I tried mantras. I tried gritting my teeth. I tried ignoring it altogether. Connecting to nature. In some ways each helped a little, or at least I was able to keep my legs from cramping full-on. Almost – I did walk once for about a minute, though running actually felt easier. I did stop once and stretch my calves, and then I was off again. The near-cramping was such that it significantly altered my stride and my form – shorter strides with very little knee bend, a stiffer back which translated into stiff shoulders. Not pretty.

And then there was grace and peace. Twice in the last 4 ½ miles, I felt a grace and peace come over me. Both episodes lasted about ¾ of a mile and for those few minutes my mind was completely quiet, my legs though still hurting were softer, my stride opened up just a little, my pace smoothed out. During the race I wasn’t really aware too much of what had happened, only on looking back do I recall much. There was a surrender and letting-go to just running, forgetting about time, distance, cramping, breathing, or any other technique – just running. I don’t know how it happened, I just know it did, and it wasn’t even my doing. It just was.

This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such ease on a run, though I’ve never been in this much discomfort on a run before either. Perhaps it was simply what my body knows from practice, when I stop ‘thinking’ and just am the spirit of running.

For most of the race I felt a great ease – letting my body be the guide of pace and effort, breathing and rhythm. There was no trying. It was only in the last 4.5 miles under duress that I went back into my head. Of course I could lament not letting go more in those last 4 ½ miles and that would deny the experience. It happened and I learned from that as well.

Our bodies really do know, more than our mind does, we just have to accept that grace and peace that’s always there and run with it!

Impressions

Tonight I landed in Graz, Austria, for a business trip to work with some of my colleagues here in Graz. After arriving at the hotel the first thing I did was put on my running shoes, check a map, and head out the door. I've heard many a runner say that it's a great way to get a feel for a new place and to reset after a long flight. I've never done it so I thought I'd give it a try.

While most posts are about runs, this one will simply  be impressions of Graz, Austria, from the point of view of a first run in a new place.

The first thing I noticed was the humidity; Boulder has been incredibly dry so any moisture in the air feels humid. Next was there was air! Graz is 4000 feet below Boulder and it's quite noticable. I charted a route that would take me to the Mur River and I figured there's be a path there to run along so that's where I headed. The streets were typical European with older buildings several stories tall. All different colors. The smaller European cars darted here and there.

After just a mile I found the river and a beautiful park. What a great sight! Lots of people, beautiful green, and mellow sound of the river. I started down the path and soon heard and saw a band playing along with food tents set up in the park. What the heck - I stopped and listened for a little bit. I believe it was a Middle-Eastern band - the language definitely wasn't German and there were melodies and influences from the little I know of Middle-Eastern music. Kids danced on the stage as if they belonged there and no one cared. Large circles of people dancing were in front of the stage. Holding hands, smiling, all ages, doing what looked like traditional steps. What a great community event; I'm sure there was hundreds of these happening all over the world on this Sunday night bringing peopletogether.

I had to learn the rules too. Should I wait at stoplights for the light to change - that one is a yes, everyone does. When I pass should I say on your left (or the German equivalent) - that's a no. Where should I run, the bike lane or pedestrian lane - I never did figure that one out, but ran in the pedestrian lane.

The people aren't so much for smiles or waves or eye contact, still they are friendly and have a sweet respect for each other. Walkers, runners, cyclists, roller bladers, even someone keeping a hula hoop going as she moseyed down the path. Plenty of playground equipment for kids, a lot of which looked like so much fun and the kind you won't find the U.S. anymore. No one in a hurry, almost like they were being with the river and matching its flow. I remember a woman on rollerblades as if it was second nature to her; and I can only presume a boyfriend behind her struggling to keep up. Friends sharing conversation, families strolling together.

While I didn't start out looking for a rhythm here, as my post from earlier would have talked about. That's exactly what happened though. I found my rhythm here in a new place. Yes, I was a visitor, but not a foreigner. I felt completely at home here. What a great welcome to Graz.

Finding the natural rhythm

The last three weeks may Friday run has been a a pacing run. The goal has been to maintain a consistent, strong pace for about 40 minutes. It has not been as easy as I would have thought. Over the past year I have done a lot of running while running a pace that felt good.

During the past two Friday runs I have had trouble holding the designated pace. In fact the thought that went through my head was 'this pace doesn't feel natural'. It wasn't a pace I'd normally run at. my body either wanted to go faster or slower.
As I started my pacing run this past Friday, the same thought came back. It was followed by another thought of this workout isn't going to work and have the proper effect if I let that thought continue.

Instead I knew I needed to find a new way to approach this. How did I want to run? I wanted to run and have it feel natural and have a good rhythm. So that's where I went - 'find the natural rhythm in this pace.' Almost as soon as that intention and idea came forward, everything about the run changed. My breathing eased, my stride opened up, there was more bounce in my footfalls, my mind quieted. The run was suddenly a gift!

It occurred to me that life can be similar. We End up in situations that are not ideal or even close. And we struggle trying to change it. What if instead we found the goodness, the naturalness, the rhythm in each moment. Our energy would improve and we would be more in a flow state, instead of a flight or fight mode.

I'm looking forward to practicing finding the natural rhythm!

Grace and Joy

No, I didn’t meet two woman named Grace and Joy recently, though the day before the race this post talks about had elements of that ;-)
Grace and Joy – that was my intention for this run.

The run was the Golden Gate Dirty Thirty 12 miler in the Golden Gate Canyon State Park near Golden, CO (yes, lots of Golden). This is the fourth year of the race with the premier event being a 30-miler, but also a 12 mile and 7 mile race. The entire course is on the trails in the State Park. I signed up this year after hearing good things about the race and course. I’ve also never run in the State Park so that was a bonus. When I signed up I didn’t look at the course details because I was interested in running in a new place, but several days before the race when I started checking out course details I found the course had more than 3000 feet of climbing in 12 miles. Yikes! Good thing I didn’t know beforehand.

So first, some results. My overall time was 2:11:05 for the 12 miles. I was 5th overall out of about 100 runners with half men and half women. I was also first for masters (40+)! I didn’t know it at the time, but second place masters was just 10 seconds behind me, and third just 17 seconds behind. I was thrilled! Overall a great race and great course.

But back to Grace and Joy …

Over the past 8 weeks or so, most of my weekend runs have been fairly targeted and somewhat hard. I’ve been practicing pacing, running for pace, running hard and fast. Really pushing edges and seeing what I could do. My body was telling me I needed more fun with no purpose – just to go out and run. Last weekend was one of those. This 12 miler was going to be another. I had no intention of racing – all I wanted to do was enjoy new trails and have fun! Joy – intention #1.

The night before I went through my pre-race ritual of getting everything ready. All my nutrition for pre-race, during the race, and post-race; clothes for driving to the start, during the race, and then after the race; Traumeel and Tiger Balm, compression socks. My mind completely focused in a ritual I’ve done dozens of times before, though usually it’s been for cycling. I was feeling ready. So as I lay in bed drifting off, I put some attention on my intention for the race. Certainly fun was the top of the list. I also wanted to feel the rhythm of my body, my legs, my breathing syncing with the flow of the course, the weather. Grace. Letting grace happen, being in the rhythm.

The morning of the race I awoke and felt good, I felt peaceful even with a short night of sleep. What occurred to me as I started my morning routine was something Roger Joslin writes about in “Running the Spiritual Path.” “Prepare mindfully for the run. Dress slowly, methodically as if you were a devout priest and your running clothes were sacred vestament.” With that in my heart, I began getting ready. What a difference that makes to start with that presence. I believe it helped set the tone for the rest of the run.

I like getting to events early, and because of logistics of the race, location, and shuttles, I had to be at the start almost 2 hours before the race began. During that time I make final preparations, stretched, and brought Joslin’s book to read. Somewhere in the book he recommends that if needed, read before a run – some Psalms, Rumi, poetry – something to again set the stage. Indeed I was reading Joslin’s book itself which was inspirational and quite appropriate for my focus and for the day.

With an intention of Grace and Joy, preparing with great awareness and sacredness, and some heartfelt reading before the start, I was in a great place to begin a run!

For the run itself – it was full of grace and joy. Steeped in rhythm and flow. The first mile I paced easily and smoothly letting my body warm up. The first big climb went by easily as I was able to run most of it. The downhill that followed was just fun! Dancing down through the rocks, in control, and flying! The second big climb was the lungbuster – steep and most of it I walked! With most of the race above 8000 feet, my lungs were the limiting factor today, my legs were along for the ride. At mile 8 we reached the top of the second climb at 9200 feet, from here it was almost all downhill. Again, what fun to prance and dance downhill, keeping in mind what my first lessons of downhill running from Jerry Lynch months ago. What fun to fly downhill again – in the process I caught 6 people in the last 4 miles and finished very strong.

For this run, I was blessed with grace and joy! Let’s do it again sometime!