Once my boys learned to speak, if they uttered the words "I can't" when trying to do something, I always told them that "can't" means "won't." Hearing my son repeat my words to a struggling teammate this winter made me something beyond proud. He believes.
Tomorrow I'm running in a group run for fun. It's not a race but it's a good distance for the first run of the season... so I am already setting my mind. If you struggle with your goals and if you doubt, and if you are afraid you aren't strong enough, and if you think that you "can't", tomorrow I run for you. Because anyone can.
This is something I'd like my kids to remember and live by. It is absolutely true. (I didn't write it.)
If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think that you dare not, you don’t;
If you like to win, but you think you can’t,
It’s almost certain you won’t
If you think you’ll lose, you’ve lost;
for out in the world you’ll find
Success begins with a fellow’s will.
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you are outclassed, you are;
You’ve got to think high to rise;
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can win the prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the strong or faster man;
But sooner or later the man who wins
Is the man who thinks he can.
2/25/11
humbled
On Wednesday, I went to the dreaded treadmill to run 4 miles. As I said in my first post, my thoughts are/were "This is easy. I got this!" mainly because I run about 40 minutes on a treadmill every time I step onto one.
I got on and struggled through 2 miles... and had to stop. My body was failing me. I was all freaked out about why. I have a great VO2 max so I rarely struggle with the cardio aspect. One of my joints was hurting- not strained, not challenged, but pain...
What is this?!?!? I run 4 miles for breakfast. If you called me up right now and said hey can you run 4 miles with me, I'd say "sure" without reluctance... Four miles is a piece of cake. Four miles is a stroll in the park. Oh, and by the way, I have a new minimum mph time whenever I step on the treadmill for a short run because I'm so hard core that I REQUIRE a challenge for myself all the time...
Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaaaaa.
Silly girl. Here's what I forgot:
I was on my feet ALL DAY before getting on that treadmill. I wasn't just standing or walking, I was climbing and jumping and lifting and pulling and balancing. When I wasn't on my feet, I was on my knees. So who do I think I am? I am not so special that my body is exempt from wear. I am not exempt from bad days. I am not so special that I don't need a little slack once in awhile.
I stopped the treadmill and stretched and tried not to panic on the inside. I started the treadmill again and ran 2 more miles at a very comfortable pace where I could sing along to my music in order to test my comfort level. (I'm sure my fellow treadmill-ers along side me love when I do that.) This is .6 mph slower than my usual treadmill pace. I'm glad I can run. I'm glad that my body tells me when I need to get over myself, and just enjoy the fact that I can do it.
I got on and struggled through 2 miles... and had to stop. My body was failing me. I was all freaked out about why. I have a great VO2 max so I rarely struggle with the cardio aspect. One of my joints was hurting- not strained, not challenged, but pain...
What is this?!?!? I run 4 miles for breakfast. If you called me up right now and said hey can you run 4 miles with me, I'd say "sure" without reluctance... Four miles is a piece of cake. Four miles is a stroll in the park. Oh, and by the way, I have a new minimum mph time whenever I step on the treadmill for a short run because I'm so hard core that I REQUIRE a challenge for myself all the time...
Ha. Ha. Hahahahahaaaaa.
Silly girl. Here's what I forgot:
I was on my feet ALL DAY before getting on that treadmill. I wasn't just standing or walking, I was climbing and jumping and lifting and pulling and balancing. When I wasn't on my feet, I was on my knees. So who do I think I am? I am not so special that my body is exempt from wear. I am not exempt from bad days. I am not so special that I don't need a little slack once in awhile.
I stopped the treadmill and stretched and tried not to panic on the inside. I started the treadmill again and ran 2 more miles at a very comfortable pace where I could sing along to my music in order to test my comfort level. (I'm sure my fellow treadmill-ers along side me love when I do that.) This is .6 mph slower than my usual treadmill pace. I'm glad I can run. I'm glad that my body tells me when I need to get over myself, and just enjoy the fact that I can do it.
2/20/11
trickery
I live in New Jersey right on the ocean. Long runs in the winter are not ideal as I am a big baby when it comes to cold weather. I know that your body heats up enough to make it feel 20 degrees warmer- so according to the math, I should've run outside today. 42+20=62 and that's not so bad. But I pushed myself in through the gym doors and onto a treadmill. Today, Hal Higdon says a seven mile run is in order. Prior to committing to a marathon and becoming pals w/ Hal and following his program, I did not run in place for more than 45 minutes. It's boring. It's torture. It's endless. But a commitment is a commitment, even if it's all of those things. Yes.
I do not know how on earth people run at a consistent pace on a treadmill for any real duration of time. I am constantly messing with my speed. I can't just set the speed and run that speed for even 20 minutes. So many things cause me to speed up or stride wider or slow down. How can I not run sprint to the chorus of certain songs? How can I not slow down if I have to scratch my butt or pick a wedgie? How can I not run faster to empowering lyrics? If anyone has input on this or information on why this is ok or not, I welcome it... Spending time on a treadmill is a true test of patience and will. I have to constantly ask myself how bad I want to keep my commitment to myself. If a stint of boredom and strain is enough to make me break my commitment, then I am lying to myself- and I really don't want it. And I have no commitment. If resigning to sit on my butt at home and surf the internet (or whatever) is more important than the goal I set for myself, then I really don't have a goal.
During the difficult part of every run, I remind myself: THIS WILL END. It is not forever. It is not undefined. There is an end. If I dare start feeling disdain or regret over the suffering I CHOSE to put myself through by CHOOSING to run, or if I dare allow the word "can't" to enter my thoughts, I remind myself of the suffering of others that are close to me that they did NOT choose yet had to endure. And it makes me feel strong and foolish at the same time. I have family members that endured abuse, oppression, poverty, homelessness and deep loss... my VOLUNTARY suffering is a freakin' walk in the park compared to their suffering. And all at once, I man up and I finish my run. I wonder how this tactic will work when I run 26.2 miles...
I do not know how on earth people run at a consistent pace on a treadmill for any real duration of time. I am constantly messing with my speed. I can't just set the speed and run that speed for even 20 minutes. So many things cause me to speed up or stride wider or slow down. How can I not run sprint to the chorus of certain songs? How can I not slow down if I have to scratch my butt or pick a wedgie? How can I not run faster to empowering lyrics? If anyone has input on this or information on why this is ok or not, I welcome it... Spending time on a treadmill is a true test of patience and will. I have to constantly ask myself how bad I want to keep my commitment to myself. If a stint of boredom and strain is enough to make me break my commitment, then I am lying to myself- and I really don't want it. And I have no commitment. If resigning to sit on my butt at home and surf the internet (or whatever) is more important than the goal I set for myself, then I really don't have a goal.
During the difficult part of every run, I remind myself: THIS WILL END. It is not forever. It is not undefined. There is an end. If I dare start feeling disdain or regret over the suffering I CHOSE to put myself through by CHOOSING to run, or if I dare allow the word "can't" to enter my thoughts, I remind myself of the suffering of others that are close to me that they did NOT choose yet had to endure. And it makes me feel strong and foolish at the same time. I have family members that endured abuse, oppression, poverty, homelessness and deep loss... my VOLUNTARY suffering is a freakin' walk in the park compared to their suffering. And all at once, I man up and I finish my run. I wonder how this tactic will work when I run 26.2 miles...
2/18/11
Luck
I do not believe in luck. It doesn't make logical sense. I believe in chance and odds. And I believe in the desire to have odds in one's favor. But luck is like fairies. Fairies are a great thing to imagine, but they aren't going to exist just because you want to will them into existence. I wish fairies existed for real. (especially the ones that clean your house when you're sleeping or not home) But luck, like fairies, doesn't make sense to me.
I was approached by someone recently who said "You're so lucky you can run for so long. I could never do that."
I am too literal. My brain processes this in the most literal way possible and my first reaction is to be somewhat insulted. But I realize that this woman is trying to compliment me so I responded with some words of encouragement and thanks and I went on my merry way. But what was I really thinking:
Luck has absolutely nothing to do with it. Luck did not bring forth my willingness and effort. Luck does not make me say no to indulgent and unhealthy food and alcohol(which I love love love love) and force me out the door to push through several miles of running. Luck did not make me willing to sweat through all of my clothes. (Yeah even my underwear is soaking wet after a long run- how lucky!) How could you call me lucky? I work my ass off and I still kind of have a big ass, all things considered so where is my luck? Surely you are joking. You cannot possibly be serious. You cannot call my drive, perseverance, and hard work LUCK!!! Moron.
And after this mental rant, I thought about the second sentence in her attempted compliment to me: "I could never do that."
Well, it's clear that you won't then, if that's what you've already decided. But if you tried, you could. You would have to try a lot. And try like you really meant it. And try when you don't feel like trying. And try the next day and the next and the next. You would have to try to keep trying even when it's difficult and even when it seems like you're not getting anywhere. If you did all that, then you could. And by the way, that's how I do it. If you do it, perhaps you'll feel lucky.
This doesn't only apply to running by the way...
I was approached by someone recently who said "You're so lucky you can run for so long. I could never do that."
I am too literal. My brain processes this in the most literal way possible and my first reaction is to be somewhat insulted. But I realize that this woman is trying to compliment me so I responded with some words of encouragement and thanks and I went on my merry way. But what was I really thinking:
Luck has absolutely nothing to do with it. Luck did not bring forth my willingness and effort. Luck does not make me say no to indulgent and unhealthy food and alcohol(which I love love love love) and force me out the door to push through several miles of running. Luck did not make me willing to sweat through all of my clothes. (Yeah even my underwear is soaking wet after a long run- how lucky!) How could you call me lucky? I work my ass off and I still kind of have a big ass, all things considered so where is my luck? Surely you are joking. You cannot possibly be serious. You cannot call my drive, perseverance, and hard work LUCK!!! Moron.
And after this mental rant, I thought about the second sentence in her attempted compliment to me: "I could never do that."
Well, it's clear that you won't then, if that's what you've already decided. But if you tried, you could. You would have to try a lot. And try like you really meant it. And try when you don't feel like trying. And try the next day and the next and the next. You would have to try to keep trying even when it's difficult and even when it seems like you're not getting anywhere. If you did all that, then you could. And by the way, that's how I do it. If you do it, perhaps you'll feel lucky.
This doesn't only apply to running by the way...
2/17/11
2/15/11
Week 2- Run #1
I think Hal Higdon is messing with me. Here is the training program I am following and right now it's really easy. My general rule is that if I step outside or on a treadmill, I will not run less than three miles. This program is chock full of three mile runs! I got this! No problem, right??? Well, if it's easy, what's the point? I want a challenge. I don't need to attempt to conquer the world every day, but I have to feel challenged. The reason I run is because it takes me out of my comfort zone. I guess it's good that I am comfortable with three miles now. It's 5 or 6 songs on my play list. It's less than 30 minutes. Done.
Today I thought about my son. I watched my oldest son lose three wrestling matches in one night last week. I listened to strangers comment on his losses. I watched a referee ask my son if he was ok to continue two times after he hit the mat head first. I heard the coaches of the opposing team second guess the decision to allow him to wrestle the strongest member of their team. Then I watched him fight hard and lose.
He's thirteen. He already knows what it's like to give it your all and fall short. He's had victory within his grasp only to have it yanked away fast and far, taken from him by a stronger or more skilled opponent. I've learned a lot more from watching his losses than I have from watching his victories in this sport. He expects to win. His heart is in it. Even when the odds are stacked against him- even when it's an undefeated team with a ridiculous record, even when his opponent is clearly bigger and stronger and more skilled, he expects to win. Why accept a challenge if you don't expect to conquer it? Why bother setting the bar if you don't expect to exceed? Why step up if you don't expect to win? This child came from me. Blood and skin and bones that are partly mine. He is growing into an amazing and honorable young man. This is what fueled my run. His heart. His will. His determination. The sheer joy that comes from the privilege of being in his life and helping him grow and learn and love and understand and identify. How could I ponder him without feeling like I could soar?
So tonight, I ran faster than my 5k personal record. That is no coincidence at all.
Today I thought about my son. I watched my oldest son lose three wrestling matches in one night last week. I listened to strangers comment on his losses. I watched a referee ask my son if he was ok to continue two times after he hit the mat head first. I heard the coaches of the opposing team second guess the decision to allow him to wrestle the strongest member of their team. Then I watched him fight hard and lose.
He's thirteen. He already knows what it's like to give it your all and fall short. He's had victory within his grasp only to have it yanked away fast and far, taken from him by a stronger or more skilled opponent. I've learned a lot more from watching his losses than I have from watching his victories in this sport. He expects to win. His heart is in it. Even when the odds are stacked against him- even when it's an undefeated team with a ridiculous record, even when his opponent is clearly bigger and stronger and more skilled, he expects to win. Why accept a challenge if you don't expect to conquer it? Why bother setting the bar if you don't expect to exceed? Why step up if you don't expect to win? This child came from me. Blood and skin and bones that are partly mine. He is growing into an amazing and honorable young man. This is what fueled my run. His heart. His will. His determination. The sheer joy that comes from the privilege of being in his life and helping him grow and learn and love and understand and identify. How could I ponder him without feeling like I could soar?
So tonight, I ran faster than my 5k personal record. That is no coincidence at all.
2/14/11
WHY?
Why am I running? What does it accomplish? What is the point? Do I even enjoy it?
I never run for myself. It would never ever work. If all I thought about was what I was trying to accomplish and what I was challenging myself with I wouldn't get very far at all. My heart and mind have to be somewhere else- centered on anything BUT me. Ok, not just anything. But whatever I'm focused on, I give everything to during the run.
I'll share a little of my history: I grew up very inactive. There are plenty of reasons and excuses but they're irrelevant right now. I didn't ride a bike until I was 11. I didn't swim until I was almost 16. I am self taught (and therefore not impressively skilled) at both of these things, however, I am proud that I learned these things on my own. No parent or coach or mentor cheered me on and padded my failed attempts with praise and encouragement. No one held on to my bicycle seat as I pedaled or watched poolside as I struggled to paddle from one end to the other. I had to regularly surmise the will and determination from within. I had no idea how to do it, but I just had to keep believing that I could.
So now I'm running. One day I just tried it. And it worked. And I kept doing it. Even when it sucked. Even when it didn't feel good. I kept going. In the beginning, I would reach a destination, and try and go a little further each time. I still remember the first mile I ran without stopping. I remember my first five and my first ten. My first fifteen. And by this summer, I'll be able to say I remember my first 26.2.
As I stated earlier, I cannot run for myself. I start each run with someone (or more than one) in mind. And I give all of my effort and energy to them. I give the strength and strain to them. Sometimes I run for someone who is struggling deeply. I pray for them as I run and I devote my energy to their struggle. Prayer doesn't always need to be fashioned out of words only. It can be poured out in effort and deed as well. I can't imagine running any other way.
I think running is both rewarding and masochistic. You can't be one of those "I need to enjoy myself every minute" types if you're going to run. I welcome and embrace productive pain. After every run, some part of me remembers that I thought it was impossible. And some part of almost every run seems impossible, but thus far, I have yet to be stopped by what "seems" to be. If I did not accept pain and discomfort and fatigue and grueling difficulty, then I could never run. I do not enjoy the run. If someone stopped me and said "hey, are you enjoying yourself?" while I was running, I don't think I could ever just say "yes" although I guarantee there are times when I could, without question, say "no".
I never run for myself. It would never ever work. If all I thought about was what I was trying to accomplish and what I was challenging myself with I wouldn't get very far at all. My heart and mind have to be somewhere else- centered on anything BUT me. Ok, not just anything. But whatever I'm focused on, I give everything to during the run.
I'll share a little of my history: I grew up very inactive. There are plenty of reasons and excuses but they're irrelevant right now. I didn't ride a bike until I was 11. I didn't swim until I was almost 16. I am self taught (and therefore not impressively skilled) at both of these things, however, I am proud that I learned these things on my own. No parent or coach or mentor cheered me on and padded my failed attempts with praise and encouragement. No one held on to my bicycle seat as I pedaled or watched poolside as I struggled to paddle from one end to the other. I had to regularly surmise the will and determination from within. I had no idea how to do it, but I just had to keep believing that I could.
So now I'm running. One day I just tried it. And it worked. And I kept doing it. Even when it sucked. Even when it didn't feel good. I kept going. In the beginning, I would reach a destination, and try and go a little further each time. I still remember the first mile I ran without stopping. I remember my first five and my first ten. My first fifteen. And by this summer, I'll be able to say I remember my first 26.2.
As I stated earlier, I cannot run for myself. I start each run with someone (or more than one) in mind. And I give all of my effort and energy to them. I give the strength and strain to them. Sometimes I run for someone who is struggling deeply. I pray for them as I run and I devote my energy to their struggle. Prayer doesn't always need to be fashioned out of words only. It can be poured out in effort and deed as well. I can't imagine running any other way.
I think running is both rewarding and masochistic. You can't be one of those "I need to enjoy myself every minute" types if you're going to run. I welcome and embrace productive pain. After every run, some part of me remembers that I thought it was impossible. And some part of almost every run seems impossible, but thus far, I have yet to be stopped by what "seems" to be. If I did not accept pain and discomfort and fatigue and grueling difficulty, then I could never run. I do not enjoy the run. If someone stopped me and said "hey, are you enjoying yourself?" while I was running, I don't think I could ever just say "yes" although I guarantee there are times when I could, without question, say "no".
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