Category: Running
Tuesday, Feb 14, 2012 | Exercise, Photos, Running, Swimming |
suspense
Every Monday morning my alarm goes just after 5am and I wonder, why am I doing this? Less than two hours later, I’m showering after a good swim and the answer is loud and clear, because it makes me feel terrific. And just like that the new week begins with good energy and a sense of momentum.
This winter, I’ve really pushed the early morning exercise, aiming to rise early at least four mornings a week. Last week it was five. Surprisingly it was not that difficult, though it did result in an unplanned crashed-out nap on the counch at 7:30 on Friday evening. Still. Worth it? Yes.
I took this photo on Sunday afternoon following my second post-injury run: sixteen short minutes of snowy bliss. I felt just like this: like I was flying, like my feet weren’t even on the ground. Monday morning, after the swim, I went for my first physio appointment and the news was good: dedicated strength work should balance out my muscles and make me faster and stronger in the long run (pun intended). I’ve been feeling rather down on myself, questioning whether I’m too old, whether my quest to become fitter and faster has hurt rather than helped me. But that wasn’t the physio’s take. She sees me as an athlete who needs to focus and hone my training in order to support the good things I’m doing for/with my body. It isn’t silly to dream of getting faster. It’s a perfectly natural goal, and achievable too.
I’m excited.
Momentum. Sometimes I think sheer will can get me anywhere. Sometimes I know that’s bull. But will does wonders. Sometimes I feel arrow-sharp, aimed at a goal. Sometimes I feel indecisive and anxious. But even on the most indecisive morning I can get up early and swim, and I do. That’s the sheer will I’m talking about. And if nothing else, it gets me off the ground.
Thursday, Feb 9, 2012 | Photos, Running, The Juliet Stories, Writing |
This morning I had my first interview related to The Juliet Stories. Because the book is so new, because I am not a workshopping writer, because these words have really only been read by my agent and by editors up to this point, I am awfully terribly anxiously hungry for responses. The interview was an early response, a hint at what might come.
And it was a kind response, and a generous one, and I am grateful.
Writers don’t get to tell readers how to read the book; that’s not part of the deal. But I can’t help wanting to hear — to understand — how it’s met a reader. What happened at that intersection. How the words were received.
Walking home, I passed this empty lot not far from my house. I saw how much sky there was over the lot, and how blue and clear it was. I don’t often carry my camera outside with me. I wonder, will I see this empty lot differently for having seen it through my lens?
Over the past few nights and mornings I’ve watched the moon wax to fullness and begin to wane. In the evening, it stares in the back window of my office as it rises. It is setting as I drive to wherever that morning’s exercise is occurring. I get to see the same moon twice, on different days. It’s felt like an odd little miracle.
I’m not pulling my thoughts together this afternoon. I’m just writing them down.
And in that vein of randomness, good news to share: Yesterday, my sports doctor cleared me to start running again. Slowly. And in very small doses. I would have high-fived him but he was too busy impressing on me how short short is: ten to fifteen minutes, three times a week. Now that’s short. I’m planning my first run tonight, during goalie practice. I will wear a watch. I promise not to push it. I can’t promise not to high-five anyone who crosses my path during those fifteen minutes, however. You’ve been warned.
Saturday, Feb 4, 2012 | Exercise, Running, Soccer, The Juliet Stories, Writing |
blue sky, yesterday afternoon
Yesterday I was writing to deadline, pulling together some notes on the context and writing of The Juliet Stories for the ebook version that will be published alongside the printed book. Ebooks offer flexibility, room for extra material, and mine will also include one of my character’s songs. The essay is a short piece with photos scattered throughout. Distillation was key. I think you’ll like it.
But this morning I came across a longer meditation on the same subject, written while I was in the middle of discovering this book’s potential to be what it has become. So if you’re interested in a more detailed, mid-process version, visit “Midwife to Stories.” (Interesting also that the story I was in the midst of writing did not make it into book; goes to show how much gets discarded along the way; and how important it is not to worry about whether or not it will be discarded when you’re working. You can’t get at the story any other way. It all matters.)
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Yesterday evening, as promised, I went for a walk in the dark during soccer practice. I walked briskly for six kilometres, which took about an hour; I could run twice the distance in the same amount of time. The air was crisp and cool and more like mid-October than early February. I’d dressed differently than I would have for a run, and I regretted that; I was too cautious. When I go for another walk tomorrow, I will leave behind the heavy winter coat and the big boots. Both completely unnecessary. The good news is that I was able to march without pain; and that being outside had an excellent effect on my body and mind. I’m still finding acceptance difficult — accepting that I can’t run for now — but there are alternatives and the alternatives can be good, too. Different, but good. If I had to give up running, I decided last night, I would get a dog. I would hike in the woods. I would hike long distances. One way or another, I would cover the ground.
After the walk, I got to watch my Soccer Girl scrimmage for fifteen minutes. As you may remember, she was a rep goalkeeper last season, and will be again this summer. But if you’d happened across the field yesterday evening, you simply wouldn’t have believed it. She looked for all the world like a centre forward. She scored four goals, and came close to six. She handled the ball with such confidence, dribbling through defenders, keeping control, biding her time. She made lovely passes to teammates. She waited patiently, using the space on the field, knowing the ball would come to her. It was so fun to watch. Sometimes parenthood is sweeter than anything else on earth. (And it only takes a smidgen of sweetness to make up for the underlying anxiety and vicarious pain that is so much a part of parenthood too.)
Friday, Feb 3, 2012 | Exercise, Running |
one of my favourite places for a walk
I’m blogging under the influence of an excess of restless energy. I haven’t exercised since this head cold knocked me sideways on Wednesday … plus the cavity-filling during yesterday’s potential exercise slot … and deciding to stay up late to watch Groundhog Day last night and therefore sleep in this morning … which really only adds up to three days of exercise-deprivation. Apparently, three days is WAY TOO LONG for my brain to be stuck inside a sedentary body.
I can see a real dip in my patience, in my frame of mind, in my focus in the absence of a) sunshine b) the outdoors and c) an endorphin-rush.
I can also see the less pleasant aspects of my personality poking out like sharp elbows. The all-or-nothing self. ie. I haven’t run for almost three weeks and therefore I will never get back into shape ever again! The doom-and-gloom self. ie. This is worst winter ever. The snappish self. ie. The one slamming the office door.
I need a new go-to form of exercise. Nothing obvious has presented itself, and my attempts to fill the void feel slapdash and ineffectual, ie. I’ve found myself doing lunges in the kitchen while eating a hardboiled egg or even while doing the dishes (not a very effective way either to do lunges or the dishes; or egg-eating, for that matter). Anxiety is creeping in: What if I’ve lost my drive? What if I’ve lost my willpower and my determination? It’s circular, of course. The less I exercise, the more anxious I feel.
I’m looking into a membership at a nearby gym. I’ve scouted another early morning spin class on Thursdays. And I’m open to suggestions.
My daughter has a soccer practice tonight. How I wish I could run in the dark. Okay, I have to accept that for now, I can’t. But I can walk in the dark, right?* And I’m gonna. For the sake of everyone around me.
*This walk has been approved by Kevin and the rest of my dear sweet family.
Friday, Jan 27, 2012 | Running |
Neither time nor mental wherewithal to post a deep and thoughtful blog today. Nothing deep and thoughtful going on today. Today has been filled with uneventful events. Your curiosity is piqued, I can tell. And so I will elaborate …
**Rushing. Slept in (til 7:30!). Therefore spent the first hour of the day madly dashing about. Turkey in crockpot! Breakfast in children! Signing various papers! Issuing various reminders! Big kids out the door! CJ to nursery school! Forgot to eat breakfast! Gobble cold porridge! Pour coffee in portable mug! Race out into snowstorm! Drive across town to dr’s appt!
**Waiting. The result of all the rushing was a prolonged period of waiting at the sports medicine clinic, first for the woman who did the initial assessment, and then for the doctor, who ordered an xray. I’ll see him again on Monday. Meanwhile, take-home-message: no running.
**More waiting. I followed up my first bout of waiting with more of same, in a different location. Upon arrival at the xray place, and without my first asking, the receptionist estimated the wait time to be 45 minutes. I heard her continue to estimate the same time to everyone who came through the door throughout my two hour stint in the waiting room. Maybe that’s just the standard measurement she gives out. She should have mentioned she was referring to units of 45 minutes, of which I would spend about three. The xray technician, a sparkly former-long-distance runner, spent the entire appointment recounting her own running injuries. A decade of running injuries. Cheerful stuff, let me tell you.
**Texting. What would I do without texting? And my phone? The wait at the xray office was so long that I realized I would not make it home in time for the babysitter, who was picking CJ and a friend up from nursery school. Luckily, through the marvels of text messaging, I was able to arrange for the friend’s mom to bring everyone to her house instead (God bless friends!). For less practical reasons, the texting also broke the intense tedium of waiting in perpetuity. When not texting, I read the book I’d brought along (The Tipping Point, by Malcolm Gladwell). Someone in the first office had read it too, so we had a conversation. Which also worked for entertainment purposes. No one in the second office cared to chat with me about the book. Most were too busy texting. Except for the friendly man telling everyone in earshot about the diarrhea he’d acquired on holiday in Jamaica. I sat extra-far away from him. What surprised me is that not everyone did.
**Overdue. Library book, that is. Thought I’d finish off my wasted writing day by stopping in at the library to discuss a book which has been lost, and has yet to turn up despite ample and dedicated hunting. It was due today. And cannot be renewed again. BUT it can be placed on some special library list which gives me another seven weeks to find the book, and the library will hunt for it too (because the kids think we returned it). I also learned that our library caps late fees. Did you know this? I will have to pay late fees on the book, even if I do find and return it, but it will cost me no more than $9.00. This actually sounded like such good news to my desperate ears that I high-fived the librarian. In my head.
**Home. When I opened the front door, the turkey in the crockpot had filled the house with comforting smells. The laundry basket was still sitting, full of dirty laundry, on the kitchen floor. I hadn’t eaten since the cold porridge. I made myself a pot of tea, and warmed up some leftovers, and sat and read the newspaper. And that about sums it up.
**Aside. Does it strike you, as it does me, that none of this fits into either of my words of the year? It ain’t work. And it sure ain’t play. What is it?
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**In other news. The giveaway is now officially over! Thanks to everyone who entered. I will pick a name out of the hat, and announce the winner tomorrow.
Tuesday, Jan 24, 2012 | Exercise, Photos, Running |
I am not running right now. My last attempt was a week and a half ago, a long weekend run of 15.5km on a bitterly cold and windy afternoon. The light was thin. My hip cried the entire time. That necessitated a frank assessment of my physical limitations, and a visit to my family doctor, and his request that I refrain from running. For now. I see a sports medicine doctor on Friday and the truth is that I’m holding out hope that his opinion will be otherwise: Go ahead and run! It can’t do any harm! (Hope hurts.)
Meantime, I am getting by with extra yoga classes, which seem to be helping. At the very least, I am strengthening and stretching and practicing my breathing. I am also continuing to swim, though not quite to the distances I’m used to: I stop when it starts to hurt rather than pushing on (the opposite of my usual style). And there’s spin class once a week.
But as mentioned in a previous post, none of those activities gets me outside. I’m missing not just the endorphin magic of a good run. I’m missing the bitter cold, the snow, the wind, the purposeful entry into the elements, even (and maybe especially) into the unpleasant elements. I’ve gone for runs in the dark, in cold rain, in hail, in blazing sunshine, in humidity. I also run in less extreme conditions, but it’s those more adventurous outings that stick with me, that please me most, that seem like tests of will and determination; there is a thrill to just sticking with it, hanging in there, going on. I could see how that sounds psychologically revealing; and not everyone’s cup of tea. And I accept that this injury may teach me many good things that I couldn’t learn otherwise: such as the value of stopping rather than pushing through; and patience. That too.
On Sunday, I went to my daughter’s soccer practice. It was a clear sunshiny afternoon, bright with snow on the ground. I could not run. But I decided not to sit by the sidelines indoors. Instead, I dressed for the weather, took my camera, and went for a hike in the woods. The trails were so familiar, trails I ran on all last summer and fall. And I was able to walk briskly without pain. It wasn’t like a good run, no, but it’s not fair to compare. It was exactly what it was: a walk in the woods.
Many of the photos came out with a melancholy feel (as above; do you agree?). I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the wintry landscape, the bare trees. Or maybe it’s the eye that was seeing the wintry landscape and bare trees. Whatever was captured, melancholy was not what I felt upon returning home. I felt better. Just plain better.
