Monday, July 30, 2007
Enough
I listen carefully to my shoes as they hit the pavement - scuff, scuff, scuff, scuff - instead of the tap, tap, tap, tap that I prefer to hear. The scuffing sounds signal to me that my legs are tired, which is unsurprising given the increase in my activity level over the past two weeks. Still, it frustrates me. I am anxious to return to my pre-injury level of running and the scuffing tells me that I'm not quite there yet.
I recall a conversation I had with my physical (physio) therapist back in February 2006 as he stretched my leg in a variety of positions:
Therapist: Let me know if it's too much
Me: I will. (thinking to self: I've never said it was too much.)
Therapist: Runner's never say it's too much.
When is it Too Much? More importantly, when is it Enough?
Good enough. Fast enough. Enough training. Enough miles. Enough effort. Enough intensity.
Where is that elusive, invisible line between Enough and Too Much? And why are so many runners so inept at identifying that line until it's too late? Why is it such a challenge to give ourselves permission to take it easy? To declare "Too Much!"?
Over the past three months, as I've been slowly rehabbing myself from my hamstring injury, finding that invisible line has been nearly impossible. For every moment that I can celebrate a small gain in training - a strong 5 mile run - there's another moment where I condemn myself to never being the athlete I was at Boston. I've been invited to training runs and RBF race day meet-ups, but my heart and my head won't allow me to participate. I'm too busy chastising myself for not being 'good enough' to run with others (yet).
More than once, I've come across a race I'd like to do, only to realize that there is no way I could SAFELY train in time to take part in the event. I almost cried when I learned that a 50K would be taking place almost in my back yard, on a cushy, well-shaded and well-groomed rail trail, but it's only eight weeks away, and I'm still struggling with 10-mile long runs.
Even when I rejoice over another athlete's accomplishments, there is the occasional twinge of "I wish I had done that." A quick blip of envy washes over me when I read about a fellow bloggers progress with a new training program, thinking to myself "I want to run 8:00 min/miles for 11 miles again." Then the guilt follows, as I recognize my self-centered and selfish line of thinking. I keep getting stuck in the quagmire of grey that exists between Enough and Too Much.
I recently came across a strategy that I think more of us could use. Tracy, at Through Th3 Wall, recently wrote a post that made me pause and consider my situation. When she recognized that she has different rules and expectations for herself than for others, she decided to change her way of thinking. When she feels herself being pulled into the negative, self-imposed, mental loop of not being "good enough," she thinks about what she would tell her daughter, her son, her husband, her best friend if they were in the same situation. And then she gives herself that advice. For example, she says "I'd never think my friend who finished Ironman in 15 or 16-something hours was any less awesome than someone who finished in 12 or 13 hours. So... why am I worried about this for myself?"
Why do we worry about those things? We get to decide. We get to choose what is Enough and when it's Too Much. We get to decide that THESE are our Glory Days. Even when there are setbacks, and we've accidentally stumbled crossed the invisible Too Much line, we can still keep building towards something great. Something greater than we ever thought possible. Each step is part of the journey, including the steps we take when we get turned around, when we wander down a side street and when we come to a complete stop in order to catch our breath or take in the view.
Each step matters.
|
I recall a conversation I had with my physical (physio) therapist back in February 2006 as he stretched my leg in a variety of positions:
Therapist: Let me know if it's too much
Me: I will. (thinking to self: I've never said it was too much.)
Therapist: Runner's never say it's too much.
When is it Too Much? More importantly, when is it Enough?
Good enough. Fast enough. Enough training. Enough miles. Enough effort. Enough intensity.
Where is that elusive, invisible line between Enough and Too Much? And why are so many runners so inept at identifying that line until it's too late? Why is it such a challenge to give ourselves permission to take it easy? To declare "Too Much!"?
Over the past three months, as I've been slowly rehabbing myself from my hamstring injury, finding that invisible line has been nearly impossible. For every moment that I can celebrate a small gain in training - a strong 5 mile run - there's another moment where I condemn myself to never being the athlete I was at Boston. I've been invited to training runs and RBF race day meet-ups, but my heart and my head won't allow me to participate. I'm too busy chastising myself for not being 'good enough' to run with others (yet).
More than once, I've come across a race I'd like to do, only to realize that there is no way I could SAFELY train in time to take part in the event. I almost cried when I learned that a 50K would be taking place almost in my back yard, on a cushy, well-shaded and well-groomed rail trail, but it's only eight weeks away, and I'm still struggling with 10-mile long runs.
Even when I rejoice over another athlete's accomplishments, there is the occasional twinge of "I wish I had done that." A quick blip of envy washes over me when I read about a fellow bloggers progress with a new training program, thinking to myself "I want to run 8:00 min/miles for 11 miles again." Then the guilt follows, as I recognize my self-centered and selfish line of thinking. I keep getting stuck in the quagmire of grey that exists between Enough and Too Much.
I recently came across a strategy that I think more of us could use. Tracy, at Through Th3 Wall, recently wrote a post that made me pause and consider my situation. When she recognized that she has different rules and expectations for herself than for others, she decided to change her way of thinking. When she feels herself being pulled into the negative, self-imposed, mental loop of not being "good enough," she thinks about what she would tell her daughter, her son, her husband, her best friend if they were in the same situation. And then she gives herself that advice. For example, she says "I'd never think my friend who finished Ironman in 15 or 16-something hours was any less awesome than someone who finished in 12 or 13 hours. So... why am I worried about this for myself?"
Why do we worry about those things? We get to decide. We get to choose what is Enough and when it's Too Much. We get to decide that THESE are our Glory Days. Even when there are setbacks, and we've accidentally stumbled crossed the invisible Too Much line, we can still keep building towards something great. Something greater than we ever thought possible. Each step is part of the journey, including the steps we take when we get turned around, when we wander down a side street and when we come to a complete stop in order to catch our breath or take in the view.
Each step matters.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Safety, double digits, and biking chicks
Three beautiful things from this past week:
1) Last week during the final miles of the Wednesday Night Group ride, my stepfather and I managed to get ourselves separated from the rest of the riders. We arrived back at the parking lot before anyone else. As we stood there, contemplating whether or not to circle back to find the rest of the group, a young woman pulled her car into the lot and asked if we needed any help. I was so touched by her concern and willingness to help two sweaty, stinky stranger. (Similar to April-Anne's experience last week in the rain.)
2) Finally. Double digits. It almost killed me, but I finally ran 10 whole miles on Sunday. Considering that I already had a 51-mile bike ride on my legs from the day before, I was pleased that I could shuffle through the miles. It's a long way from where I was in three months ago, but forward progress continues.
3) One of the Swimming Chicks took me out biking on Tuesday after work. Regardless of the lung-searing hill she made me crawl up, the 26-mile ride was great. It was exciting to ride on completely new roads, with a new person...even if she did make me work hard!
|
1) Last week during the final miles of the Wednesday Night Group ride, my stepfather and I managed to get ourselves separated from the rest of the riders. We arrived back at the parking lot before anyone else. As we stood there, contemplating whether or not to circle back to find the rest of the group, a young woman pulled her car into the lot and asked if we needed any help. I was so touched by her concern and willingness to help two sweaty, stinky stranger. (Similar to April-Anne's experience last week in the rain.)
2) Finally. Double digits. It almost killed me, but I finally ran 10 whole miles on Sunday. Considering that I already had a 51-mile bike ride on my legs from the day before, I was pleased that I could shuffle through the miles. It's a long way from where I was in three months ago, but forward progress continues.
3) One of the Swimming Chicks took me out biking on Tuesday after work. Regardless of the lung-searing hill she made me crawl up, the 26-mile ride was great. It was exciting to ride on completely new roads, with a new person...even if she did make me work hard!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
three beautiful things, vacation style
As I alluded to in my previous post, I was on vacation last week in Bermuda, with my husband, mom, and stepfather. By sheer coincidence, we happened to pick the week of our 10th wedding anniversary, which we celebrated with a day at the beach followed by delicious rum swizzles at the world famous Swizzle Inn, and topped off with an amazing dinner.
Sounds like more than three beautiful things, doesn't it? That was just the prelude...the highlight of the vacation for me were these beautiful things, as represented pictorially below:
1. A breathtaking view to start the day:
2. Slowly waking up, while viewing this from horseback:
3. Watching my mom (yes, that's her, not me, in the yellow hat) fulfilling her lifetime dream of riding horseback on the beach:
There were enough beautiful moments last week for me to have enough material for the rest of the year.
|
Sounds like more than three beautiful things, doesn't it? That was just the prelude...the highlight of the vacation for me were these beautiful things, as represented pictorially below:
1. A breathtaking view to start the day:
2. Slowly waking up, while viewing this from horseback:
3. Watching my mom (yes, that's her, not me, in the yellow hat) fulfilling her lifetime dream of riding horseback on the beach:
There were enough beautiful moments last week for me to have enough material for the rest of the year.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Paradise Pattering
Ding!
The ship's computer cheerfully acknowledges my existence.
The smiling crew member hands my key card back to me.
Thank you Dianna, have a nice morning!
It's Wednesday, July 11th and I'm standing on King's Wharf in St. George's, Bermuda. I step off the cruise ship, take a deep breath and realize that paradise comes with a cost - heat and humidity. It's only 7:30 a.m. and it's already close to 80F with 90% humidity. As if on cue, the ocean breeze washes over me, reminding me that paradise holds many treasures to those who stop and pay attention.
I leave the wharf and push up the hill towards the unfinished church. Even though the sun is up, I can still hear the sounds from last night's peepers (and other creatures) calling out to me from the dense stands of trees and bushes.
Cautiously, I pick my way up the street, running on the right-hand side of the road, which is *into* traffic for the U.K. colony. I feel a bit backwards. As I approach each crooked side street, I slow slightly, listening for cars and scooters. It's too early for the often-heard friendly 'beep-beep' of vehicles as they approach each other, so I rely on engines sounds to guide me.
I crest the first big hill, glide by the golf course, and soak up the view of Tobacco Bay as I descend the hill. The road narrows, and I am grateful for the lack of traffic, as I am unsure that there would be room enough for both a car and my body on the road at the same time. Quickly, Achilles Bay and Fort St. Catherine are upon me, and I pause to evaluate the spot for our afternoon beach plans.
Pushing on, the road becomes quieter, with only the sound of the crashing waves against rocks filling my ears. My nose detects a farm close by, and it does not disappoint; I switch to mouth-breathing to quell my turning stomach, and smile at the goats and cows gathered around in groups, enjoying breakfast. Chickens and roosters run to and fro in their busy fashion (and I learn later, they can be seen all over the island in great abundance).
Alexandra Battery comes in to view, and I stop to explore the shallow caves near the beach as I had read that sea glass likes to collect there by the fist full. Sure enough, sea glass sparkles all over beach, with odd bits of pottery and china thrown in with the typical brown, green and white glass remnants.
Back on the road, and around a bend, to the small fort at the Town Cut where the Town Crier greeted our ship upon our arrival yesterday. Again I pause, this time to explore Gate's Fort for a moment and take in the spectacular view.
The last stretch of road rewards me with a downhill past the pastel colored Bermudian homes, with their rain-catching white-washed roofs shining brightly with sun light. As I get closer to the town center, more cars, busses and scooters zip past. I duck into a small public garden for a quick loop around, admiring the wide variety of flowers and plants. Hibiscus and oleander are everywhere, with their red, pink and yellow colors lighting up even the darkest corners.
One more quick loop down the cobblestoned Water street, and I head back towards the ship. My watch reminds me that I am not accustomed to running in the heat and humidity, nor is my vacation diet of rich foods and wines doing much for my pace. Nevertheless, I am pleased with myself for making time for the run, knowing that it afforded me the chance to see and hear things that I would certainly miss if I were traveling in a vehicle.
A perfect way to start a day in paradise.
Ding!
|
The ship's computer cheerfully acknowledges my existence.
The smiling crew member hands my key card back to me.
Thank you Dianna, have a nice morning!
It's Wednesday, July 11th and I'm standing on King's Wharf in St. George's, Bermuda. I step off the cruise ship, take a deep breath and realize that paradise comes with a cost - heat and humidity. It's only 7:30 a.m. and it's already close to 80F with 90% humidity. As if on cue, the ocean breeze washes over me, reminding me that paradise holds many treasures to those who stop and pay attention.
I leave the wharf and push up the hill towards the unfinished church. Even though the sun is up, I can still hear the sounds from last night's peepers (and other creatures) calling out to me from the dense stands of trees and bushes.
Cautiously, I pick my way up the street, running on the right-hand side of the road, which is *into* traffic for the U.K. colony. I feel a bit backwards. As I approach each crooked side street, I slow slightly, listening for cars and scooters. It's too early for the often-heard friendly 'beep-beep' of vehicles as they approach each other, so I rely on engines sounds to guide me.
I crest the first big hill, glide by the golf course, and soak up the view of Tobacco Bay as I descend the hill. The road narrows, and I am grateful for the lack of traffic, as I am unsure that there would be room enough for both a car and my body on the road at the same time. Quickly, Achilles Bay and Fort St. Catherine are upon me, and I pause to evaluate the spot for our afternoon beach plans.
Pushing on, the road becomes quieter, with only the sound of the crashing waves against rocks filling my ears. My nose detects a farm close by, and it does not disappoint; I switch to mouth-breathing to quell my turning stomach, and smile at the goats and cows gathered around in groups, enjoying breakfast. Chickens and roosters run to and fro in their busy fashion (and I learn later, they can be seen all over the island in great abundance).
Alexandra Battery comes in to view, and I stop to explore the shallow caves near the beach as I had read that sea glass likes to collect there by the fist full. Sure enough, sea glass sparkles all over beach, with odd bits of pottery and china thrown in with the typical brown, green and white glass remnants.
Back on the road, and around a bend, to the small fort at the Town Cut where the Town Crier greeted our ship upon our arrival yesterday. Again I pause, this time to explore Gate's Fort for a moment and take in the spectacular view.
The last stretch of road rewards me with a downhill past the pastel colored Bermudian homes, with their rain-catching white-washed roofs shining brightly with sun light. As I get closer to the town center, more cars, busses and scooters zip past. I duck into a small public garden for a quick loop around, admiring the wide variety of flowers and plants. Hibiscus and oleander are everywhere, with their red, pink and yellow colors lighting up even the darkest corners.
One more quick loop down the cobblestoned Water street, and I head back towards the ship. My watch reminds me that I am not accustomed to running in the heat and humidity, nor is my vacation diet of rich foods and wines doing much for my pace. Nevertheless, I am pleased with myself for making time for the run, knowing that it afforded me the chance to see and hear things that I would certainly miss if I were traveling in a vehicle.
A perfect way to start a day in paradise.
Ding!
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Three Beautiful Things, v. 3
Week Three
I had hoped to write at least one other post before today, but alas, the week slipped away from me and unfortunately, my time was spent consoling my best friend of 26 years as she lost her mother to cancer on Monday.
These beautiful things were much needed this week:
1) During Saturday’s 52-mile ride, I managed to hit a max speed of 39.5 mph going down hill - and I don't even remember it happening, which means I was very relaxed.
2) About a month ago, one of my parent's dogs knocked down my Asiatic lilies. I tried to keep them alive in a vase, and force them to bloom, but they were starting to look very sad, so I threw them out into the wood pile. Yesterday, orange-colored blossoms peeked out at me from the pile. Apprently, I'd given up too soon!
3) My car remote/key fob has been acting up lately, and I thought for sure that it was a ‘goner.’ Turns out, it just needed new batteries. I love when potentially costly, complicated problems can be fixed quickly and simply.
And since it was such a crappy week, let's do one more:
4) We celebrated the 4th with a 31 mile bike ride. Passing through one neighborhood, there was a small stream that followed the curve of the road. As we turned the corner, a startled blue heron took flight and headed up stream.
|
I had hoped to write at least one other post before today, but alas, the week slipped away from me and unfortunately, my time was spent consoling my best friend of 26 years as she lost her mother to cancer on Monday.
These beautiful things were much needed this week:
1) During Saturday’s 52-mile ride, I managed to hit a max speed of 39.5 mph going down hill - and I don't even remember it happening, which means I was very relaxed.
2) About a month ago, one of my parent's dogs knocked down my Asiatic lilies. I tried to keep them alive in a vase, and force them to bloom, but they were starting to look very sad, so I threw them out into the wood pile. Yesterday, orange-colored blossoms peeked out at me from the pile. Apprently, I'd given up too soon!
3) My car remote/key fob has been acting up lately, and I thought for sure that it was a ‘goner.’ Turns out, it just needed new batteries. I love when potentially costly, complicated problems can be fixed quickly and simply.
And since it was such a crappy week, let's do one more:
4) We celebrated the 4th with a 31 mile bike ride. Passing through one neighborhood, there was a small stream that followed the curve of the road. As we turned the corner, a startled blue heron took flight and headed up stream.
