Choose to stay

"38 degree race time temperature, 30 mph winds, mud.... but The Cary Rockin Marathon Relay roles on! These athletes are tough as nails!" - Trivium Racing (9am this morning)

According to the warm forecast ahead, this morning is going to be my last of the winter race season. I am looking forward to running without having tears roll down my cheeks & snot dripping down my chin from the winds & bitter cold. Bring on the shorts!

It was a great last race of the season; the WakeMed Soccer Park for the Rockin' Marathon Relay. I teamed up with my running pal, Jon Hunter, who's training for a marathon 2 weeks from today.

We ran 8 1.65 mile laps apiece around the Soccer Park - passing the baton between each set. We went with a breakdown of laps per person: 1, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1 - the last 2 consecutive laps hardest of all!

The weather gods had the wind pushing us back on the last monster hill of each lap - running uphill into 30 mph winds equals double the amount of exertion and doubles your usual pace.

We ran under the team name of the Hawk Clan Runners - in Native American tradition, you receive an Animal Totem at birth - comparable to Astrology - I am an Aries / Falcon (Animal Totem) and Jon is a Libra / Raven - both the Falcon and Raven are members of the Hawk Clan. 

Reflecting upon today's experience, I've thought a good deal about community - the Falcon is a solitary creature, the Raven more communal. The Falcon can learn from the Raven.

A running pal who supports your journey, and teams up with you to accomplish a shared goal, is a good friend.

(Almost 3/4 of the way through, lap results)

On my drive to the race, just after 6am this morning, I came across the public radio program On Being, and today's guest was author & poet Jennifer Michael Hecht - no chance of fate that that was the interview I heard while mentally preparing for this race. 

"We have secret web-like connection to each other," says Hecht. "Sometime when you can't see what important about you other people can."

It may seem odd to have been inspired by an interview focusing on Hecht's new book; Stay: A History of Suicide and the Philosophies Against. However, it was Hecht's words on community that resonated. 

There was a time in my own life 10 years ago, before I severed my biological family's toxic grip, that I chose to leave. Yet my spirit refused to succumb, and I was given the opportunity to live the life I was always meant to live.

Today I was renewed by the secret web-like connections of friendship, and community, and gently reminded of how wonderful it is to choose to stay, persevere and keep going - in life, and in a relay with 30 mph winds!

“None of us can truly know what we mean to other people and none of us can now what our future self will experience. History and philosophy ask us to remember these mysteries, to look around at friends, family, humanity, at the surprises life brings — the endless possibilities that living offers — and to persevere." - Jennifer Michael Hecht 

A Runners Mind: Empty & One with the Mountain

“The Great Way is not difficult if you don’t make distinctions. Only throw away likes and dislikes and everything will be perfectly clear. So throw away all opinions, all likes and dislikes, and only keep the mind that doesn’t know. This is very important. Don’t know mind is the mind that cuts off all thinking. When all thinking has been cut off, you become empty mind. This is before thinking. Your before-thinking-mind, my before-thinking-mind, all people’s before-thinking-minds are the same. This is your substance. Your substance, my substance, and the substance of the whole universe become one. So the tree, the mountain, the cloud and you become one. Then I ask you: Are the mountain and you the same or different? “ -Seung Sahn

Back to Basics

Last week, post half-marathon, my mind & body needed a break. A goal behind me and somewhere in limbo, I kept my runs between 6-8 miles in the woods / following uncharted trails to heal and unwind my mind.

For the past three months, I've focused on distance primarily running fifty plus miles a week in preparation for the race.

That race has come and gone, and it taught me much. 

The beauty of running and becoming, is that each day, each race, each experience provides useful instruction on one's self, and one's potential, and does not define us, but informs us, and offers clues on what we need to bring our attention back to.

Yesterday, I did 9.5 miles in a steady rain. It banished the lingering doubts still with me after the challenging and unforgiving race, and inspired me to set new goals.

Today, after 4.5 miles of warm-up, I tackled the track at a local middle school, and did 4 x 200 intervals. 

I'm neither coach nor expert, but I do think that to become better, you have to work harder, and have a specific goal that informs your training & visualizations.

I relished my intervals today; the rush of adrenaline when sprinting and running down the clock - those precious seconds of harmony & rhythm w/ breath, legs, arms, mind.

I may have bombed any PR goals on race day, but I didn't leave without having learned something about myself, and about who I want to become..it inspired me to get back to basics, and that is a very good thing.

Who will you become tomorrow?

"...Excellence is not something attained and put in a trophy case. It is not sought after, achieved and, thereafter, a steady state. It is a momentary phenomenon, a rare conjunction of body, mind, and spirit at one's peak. Should I come to that peak I cannot stay there. I must start each day at the bottom and climb to the top...I run so I do not lose the me I was yesterday and the me I might become tomorrow..."

-George Sheehan

Limitlessness

"When a fish swims, it swims on and on, and there is no end to the water. 

When a bird flies, it flies on and on, and there is no end to the sky.

There was never a fish that swam out of the water, or a bird that flew out of the sky.

When they need a little water or sky, they use just a little; when they need a lot, they use a lot.

Thus, they use all of it at every moment, and in every place they have perfect freedom.

But if there were a bird that first wanted to examine the size of the sky, or a fish that first wanted to examine the extent of the water, and then try to fly or swim, it would never find its way.

...

For the place, the way, is neither large nor small, neither self nor other."

-Dogen

Running and living; when weary, soul sore, and prone to seeing gray instead of lilac, have faith that your path equals that of the bird who never flew out of sky.

"Footfalls echo in the memory"

To describe this past Sunday's running-learning-curve, I must dip into T.S. Eliot's Four-Quartets.

What might have been is an abstraction

Remaining a perpetual possibility

Only in a world of speculation.

What might have been, what was, perpetual possibilities...

Over one thousand runners assembled, dropped off by shuttle, just before dawn at the Biltmore Estate grounds. 

The weather not at all optimistic: 40 degrees, and beginning to drizzle. 

I found a bathroom, checked my bag, and huddled in the one warm place near the startling line - former horse stables of the Estate.

There's always that moment before a race - jockeying at the start, stretching, tying shoe laces one last time, that I begin to feel a buzz of perpetual possibility - everything begins at that moment the gun's shot, the horn's blown, the buzzer sounds.

I started strong; legs felt light, and lungs opened up. 

The drizzle turned to heavy rains by the 3rd Mile, and did not relent for the next 10. 

I made several tactical errors in this half-marathon. 1. Not accounting for altitude changes (no training in Western, NC, and coming from Piedmont region), & 2. Not grasping the course elevation gains or what the course actually looked like.

Miles 3 through 5 were a steady incline - envision a spiral staircase, except a road wrapped around the mountain in a unrelenting ascension.

I held onto my pace and personal goals until about the 4th Mile. I faced the reality of either gutting it out, and painfully hitting a wall hard enough to keep me from finishing all 13.10, or surrendering to the terrain and mountain, and taking it at much slower tempos to adjust to altitude & elevation gains.

There were portions of beautiful downhills, and flat straightaways, but the majority of the race was hilly & steep.

I was on the course for over 2 hours, and by the 8th Mile my feet were numb inside my wet/cold trainers. Numb feet aren't quite so responsive on rougher surfaces, and miles 9 & 12 were along the French Broad River on a rough pebble/gravel surface.

I'd be hard pressed to think of one mile that was easy. It was one of the hardest races/long runs I've done; however, all the weeks of training, working with form and focused mind/body alignment did - I believe, give me the single mindedness to keep going, one small footfall at a time despite the rain, wind & lingering bronchitis. There was no option to quit, only to conserve energy at the cost of pace and personal record, and keep moving towards that still point:

Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,

Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point

As I rounded the final hill's crest, and saw the blue and white Finish arch beckoning, tears filled my eyes. 

I had learned what it takes, and how I could get through it.

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go." 

- T.S. Eliot

Running Meditations

The Circle of Kindness Continues

I contacted Amy L. Smith - creator of the Tangled Kindness Project, after finding my serendipitous note in the woods, and Amy offered to send me four more cards to place on local trails. 

Last week, I finally found the perfect spot to leave my first card - a knoll beneath a magnificent oak - the circle must continue. It stays with me, even now...swollen from the rainstorm and streaked with mud, and that moment in the woods when I noticed it lying in the leaves...clearly Amy's project has touched lives.

I have the four new cards in my running bag, waiting for that special trail to place them on.

Amy also mentioned our connection across many states in her blog (Thank you, Amy.):

http://tangledkindnessproject.blogspot.com/2014/03/running-meditations.html

Sunday, March 16, 2014

Running Meditations

It is responses like this that make my heart sing!!!

I received an email from Rebekah; stating she wrote about her encounter with human kindness here...

Her blog is called Running Meditations. She eloquently shares her story of finding a Tangled Little Card.  I certainly don't know how the card got from Ohio to North Carolina but it is bound to have a wonderful story!  Rebekah and I don't know each other, not when she found the card anyway, but are certainly bonded by kindness. It is so heartfelt that she is leaving it for another to find and enjoy. 

"A tree that fills the span of a man's arms grows from a downy tip; A terrace nine stories high from handfuls of earth; A journey of a thousand miles from beneath ones feet."

-Lao-Tzu

After three months of training and anticipation, tomorrow morning I race. This past week has been challenging due to a lingering bronchitis virus. Breathing compromised, I've had to take it one day at a time all week...I am a little worried about how well this half-marathon will go, but I know that if I let go, surrender and accept - tomorrow's run will provide / instruct / and inspire me with what I need for that moment /this moment now.

Today, I ran 5.6 miles along the Mountain to Sea Trail on the Blue Ridge Parkway; just a leg stretcher.

I'm fascinated by the variety in native plants just 3.5 hours away from my usual running habitats.

Came across the Downy Rattlesnake Plantain, not a plant but an orchid. 

The only "rattlesnake" I don't mind crossing my trail path!

I cut my running teeth on the trails that border, and cross the Botanical Gardens in Chapel Hill. I thought I knew every inch of trail, but today I took an unmarked turn -  down the ridge - along Morgan Creek, and deep into the woods to find a breathtaking detour...the lighting was soft, the sun gentle, and a breeze stirred the leaves. All along the way signs of spring unfurling, waking, being reborn. I chanced upon a field of daffodils off the main path.

The trail abruptly ended at Morgan Creek, but an irrigation pipe was broad enough to do a bit of tight-rope walking, and on the other side another mile of forest magic.

It's rained most of the past week, and the low lying trails are still a mushy quagmire...not that mud every deterred this runner! Can't help but pull out e.e. cummings' poem this time of year..next time you land in a mud puddle up to your laces embrace your "mud-luscious" runner self, and bask in this "puddle-wonderful" springtime.

*****

in Just-

spring          

when the world is mud-

luscious

...it's

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

-e.e. cummings

Printing Peace

When you run, do you think about the ground beneath your feet? Really think about the earth...not just watching for a curb, rock, root, pile of slippery leaves, or pothole, but the earth as a living organism sending up energy as your feet touch down.

In Thich Nhat Hanh's book Being Peace, he writes, 

"We have to walk in a way that we only print peace and serenity on Earth."

Run in a way so that each step prints peace and serenity ... 

Getting excited...

Small Things with Great Love

Thursday night, winter gave one last gasp and sleet and ice fell; in the morning, the trees were bent under a burden of millions of icy crystals.

All day Friday, the rain fell hard, and the skies remained leaden and heavy.

I determined I would run in the forest as long as I could endure the rain and cold, and promised myself, that the initial discomfort would be worth the effort.

It's challenging to run on trails that are slick with rain, but the forest canopy filters the heavy raindrops, and buffers against the wind. 

I chose the trails in Briar Chapel, close to home, and the hot shower I would need after I ran. I noticed Briar Creek was swollen and had flooded its banks, and carefully chose my route around the high waters encroaching upon the low-land trails.

I witnessed a heron, close to five feet high, standing as a sentry at the edge of the flooded marshland. Keenly he watched me, as I ran by. I ran along the roads, then threw caution to the wind, and chose the trails into the woods, I needed to commune with the trees. The narrow hiking path was ankle deep in rushing puddles most of the way, and my shoes filled with rain and mud splattered up to my thighs. Around a bend, I heard the twittering of a Tufted Tit Mouse, busily winging his way through the foliage. A small Golden Finch, was resting near the trail, his wings sopping wet, and I worried for him, but when I approached, he took wing, and I wished him well, as I ran on. Deeper into the woods I traveled where the hard woods bent by wind, rustled their branches and creaked as limbs rubbed against neighboring trees. A sound that sounds like ice cracking.

A beautiful hickory lay toppled across the path, roots exposed and naked, as it leaned into the arms of an oak that had stood against its falling. A pine blocked the path, anothre great tree, now uprooted and vulnerable.

Slivers of ice clung to the leaves, and rocks, and as I left the trail head and returned back to my car, I found a little square of thick card stock with writing nestled in the sopping pile of leaves. I put it in my pocket, and kept going, relishing my wild and beautiful run. I'd witnessed the forest bruised and resilient, I had communed with it, shared its story, and celebrated its strength and continual growth and losses.

Once home, I took out the soggy tile I'd found and discovered it unfolded to reveal a poem and drawing in ink. 

"Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love." - Mother Teresa

The artists signature gave me a clue for finding out more; Angela Gage resides in Ohio. The back of the card states: "You have found an artistic piece of human kindness...Enjoy!" crediting The Tangled Kindness Project: http://tangledkindnessproject.blogspot.com/

I will find another trail to leave this tile of human kindness on for a runner or hiker to discover and marvel at the serendipity of being at the right place, at the right time.

How this tile made it to Pittsboro, North Carolina, from Ohio, I'm not sure. But it's a simple reminder of our interconnectedness and what is possible when we step out of our comfort zone, and embrace the storm. 

Do you smile?

"Life is both dreadful and wonderful...

To meditate well, we have to smile a lot.

Breathing in, I calm my body.

Breathing out, I smile.

Dwelling in the present moment.

I know this is a wonderful moment."

-Thich Nhat Hanh

Running is not easy. There are good days, and bad days. Days when your legs feel like wings, and others when they feel heavy and earth bound.

When I feel earth bound and heavy, I focus on my breathing, my inhale to calm - yes, this is hard, and I feel tired, but it will get easier - and with my exhale, smile.

I smile when a squirrel darts across the trail ahead, and flicks his tail before scurrying up an oak.

I smile when a bluebird flashes through the forest in undulating grace.

I smile when I've reached the crest of a winding ridge, and below me imprinted in the forest floor the silvery ribbon of a stream or river.

I smile when I see the yellow-green moss clinging to rocks I'm running across and leaping over.

I smile at the roots of hardwoods that seem like fingers holding fast to soil.

I smile when I come to a steep hill, and I dig down deep and throw my mind and body over it's precipice. 

I smile when my shoulders relax, and my body is straight, and my lungs expand and drink in the fragrance of pine trees after rain. 

I smile when the croaks of frogs in a marshy lowland fill my ears with cacophonous melodies. 

I smile when the red-tailed hawk flies across my vision, and I follow her determined trajectory across the sky and out of sight.

I smile because I am, in this present moment, nothing more than another creature of the woods.

Intimacy With The Hill

"This mountain of release is such that the 

ascent's most painful at the start, below;

the more you rise, the milder it will be.

And when the slope feels gentle to the point that

climbing up a sheer rock is effortless

as though you were gliding downstream in a boat,

then you will have arrived where this path ends."

-Dante

As a beginner, I dreaded hills and inclines. Faced them grimly as if they had to be conquered.

Each hill a test - I resisted them.

I've learned the truth of nonresistance.

Of surrendering to the hill.

Is there anything sweeter than reaching that crest and feeling your body straighten and your lungs expand and everything below sweet for what was earned on the incline?

Before I begin the ascent I mentally check my posture, my form. No hunching or straining in the upper body, staying straight with chest wide open and shoulders down. As I lean into the hill, I shorten stride and keep a steady cadence, no force nor putting all my weight on my toes - I continue to land in the middle, and making contact with the ground, I swing arms forward/and up.

Mentally, I visualize being pulled forward up and over and into the descent below. 

If you can do this, you will become intimate with the hill. 

With my intentions clear, my body follows, and sometimes I forget I'm running uphill - moments of reaching a crest and feeling I have "arrived where this path ends."

Today, I ran 12.75 miles, and counted 25 hills - hills that reminded me to empty my mind, and be one with the earth's curvature.