I champion my boys. I have steadfast faith in them. I tell them over and over in different ways that they can do anything that they put their minds to. I tell them that all they have to do is WANT to make something happen enough to try. I tell them that they cannot be afraid to fail and the only true failure is when you don't step up and give something your best effort. I tell them that most strength comes from within, that power and might are helpful, but it's what's in your heart that really makes or breaks your success. When they compete in any sport, I tell them to give it everything they've got. If you give everything, you have nothing to lose...
I ran a ten mile race last weekend. I was confident and determined to meet a certain pace. At about mile 7.5, I started getting tired and started to renegotiate with myself. I started telling myself why it would be ok if I didn't meet my goal. I started giving myself half-assed praise for running strong thus far, and searching my mind for other reasons to feel good even if I didn't meet my goal.
Then (for the first time ever, I think) I heard it. That voice that was negotiating and resigning and implying that it was ok NOT to give my best effort said:
Yes, you can. You will do it. Of course you can do it. Do not believe otherwise. You can.
Is it kind of pathetic that I say these words to my sons ALL the time, yet never claimed them for myself until that moment? Is it deplorable that I never empowered myself and believed in myself and boosted my confidence the way I regularly do so for my children? Yeah, kinda. But the real point is, I believe it. I can do anything. I am just as capable as anyone else. Just as capable as my sons. Why didn't I feel this before? How could I drill this into their heads when I never truly embraced it for myself?
I picked up my pace. I passed several runners. (Yes, you can.) It was really hard and it hurt a little. But I wanted to meet my goal more than I wanted to slow down and wallow over the strain. (You can do anything.) The last 2 miles seemed like forever. (Do not give up.) One foot then the other then the other. (Of course you can.)
And I did.
Do you hear it too?
3/24/11
3/20/11
alone
Unless you have a training partner who's schedule matches yours perfectly or you have a bunch of runner friends to call upon whenever you decide to pound out a few miles, odds are, you have spent some time running alone. I run at least 20 miles a week alone. Although there are other people around me, I am alone with my body, breath, and mind. No one but me is able to summon the strength to continue moving one foot in front of the other over and over and over.
I believe that for some, the hardest part of running is being alone. The distraction that another person's mere presence provides is enough to avoid actually spending time in your own mind. Have you done it? Have you tried quickly willing your body forward while keeping a steady breathing pattern even when you want to stop with no one there to tell you to keep going? Where does your mind go? How do you pass the time in your mind so that the strain on your body doesn't become your focus? Have you allowed your mind to wander- to dream and to doubt? To hope and hate? Have you mulled over your shortcomings and embraced the thoughts you can't stand? Have you celebrated what you love about yourself and debased what you despise about yourself? Have you looked into your own heart? Have you come face to face with your own shortcomings and lame excuses for those shortcomings? Have you gained knowledge of who you are, what you are not, what you wish you did not have to be, and what you know you could become?
In my experience, you do when you are alone with your mind and body. And sometimes, it is the hardest thing about running. Your mind goes where you do not want it to and you still have to depend on it to get you through the run. Running is never as simplistic as it looks.
Perhaps the next time you wish to get out there, you can consider refraining from yanking at the sleeves of others around you and insisting "come with me! come with me!" and go alone. You might get to know someone you don't spend a lot of time with. With all the group exercise classes and tv's built in to cardio equimpment and ipods and mp3's and whatnot it's so easy to avoid yourself.
I believe that for some, the hardest part of running is being alone. The distraction that another person's mere presence provides is enough to avoid actually spending time in your own mind. Have you done it? Have you tried quickly willing your body forward while keeping a steady breathing pattern even when you want to stop with no one there to tell you to keep going? Where does your mind go? How do you pass the time in your mind so that the strain on your body doesn't become your focus? Have you allowed your mind to wander- to dream and to doubt? To hope and hate? Have you mulled over your shortcomings and embraced the thoughts you can't stand? Have you celebrated what you love about yourself and debased what you despise about yourself? Have you looked into your own heart? Have you come face to face with your own shortcomings and lame excuses for those shortcomings? Have you gained knowledge of who you are, what you are not, what you wish you did not have to be, and what you know you could become?
In my experience, you do when you are alone with your mind and body. And sometimes, it is the hardest thing about running. Your mind goes where you do not want it to and you still have to depend on it to get you through the run. Running is never as simplistic as it looks.
Perhaps the next time you wish to get out there, you can consider refraining from yanking at the sleeves of others around you and insisting "come with me! come with me!" and go alone. You might get to know someone you don't spend a lot of time with. With all the group exercise classes and tv's built in to cardio equimpment and ipods and mp3's and whatnot it's so easy to avoid yourself.
3/13/11
How bad do you want it?
My goal is not merely to finish my first marathon. I already know that I will- even if I have to hobble to the end. I have already decided that I want to finish so I know that I'm going to do whatever it takes. Pride will not stop me if my pace is too slow. Pain will not stop me and if needed, I will walk instead of run. I am going to finish. I have no logical reason not to. (insert rare/obscure happenstance disclaimer here)
I ran a 5k race (3.1 miles)this weekend and now have a new personal record. My older boys ran too. I am glad that I left with a new personal record(beating my previous best in a race I ran 6 years ago by 21 seconds)but the pride in this accomplishment does not compare to what my child blessed me to witness during this race.
Charles and I discussed how on the eve of his twelfth birthday on March twelfth, he will run a 5k and try and beat his personal record. I thought it would be a great way to spend his last day of being eleven years old and he agreed. As you can imagine, I feel exponentially blessed because I have children that run. (all three of them!) I had hoped to teach them that running is a great form of exercise that is both challenging and easy and does not require much of a monetary investment. I want them to take this knowledge with them into adulthood. There is nothing like being one with your body and willing yourself to move forward one step at a time and learning to alternate leading with the strength of your body, then the strength of your breathing. There is nothing like finishing a run that seemed daunting and impossible. There is nothing better than the challenge you face between you and yourself when you step out there propelled by nothing but the desire to remind yourself that you can indeed do it even when you think you can't. I want them to apply all of this to daily life as well and to know without doubt that there is great reward in a sense of accomplishment even when you do not receive a tangible prize. I want them to learn that if you push through and accept that there are parts of life that will be grueling and difficult, you can survive and achieve anything.
I'll back up a bit and mention that I gently reminded both of my boys that I planned to achieve a new personal record. Traditionally, I never finish ahead of them. I always make sure they are ahead of me for both safety and pride reasons, as silly as that sounds. This time, I wanted a little competition. I knew that we would propel each other if all bets were off. I teased Chris about the pending humiliation of being passed by his mother. I told Charlie that I would not run behind him, but that he better not get "smoked" by his mommy. Chris laughed at the mere thought of me finishing ahead of him, but honestly, I knew I had a good chance. He is slightly de-conditioned (wrestling ended and track season has not yet begun) and I am on a schedule that has me running an average of 20 miles a week.
When the race begins, we separate immediately and Chris is ahead but within my sight line and Charlie does just as I implored- he does not haul ass to keep up with us and he centers his mind on the race being against he and himself so he does not worry about the people (old men, overweight women, girls his age, etc.) around him. As we approach a hill my maternal instincts regret that I did not go over down-hill running with either of my boys and I start wondering if one of them will lose their bearing while running downhill. I consider turning around to meet up with Charlie but I decide that I need to trust him and keep running in spite of my concern.
I manage to finish one second behind Christopher. In the end, I couldn't have passed him if I tried, but during the final stretch, I doubt either of us had much steam left to pass the other and so we paced together. And I am stoked that my kid gave it 100% and I know that without the challenge of him just ahead, I might not have achieved my goal.
After I go through the finish chute, I run back to see Charlie to the end. I do not have to run far. I see him turn the corner at full steam smiling and striding wide. His arms are pumping ferociously. He is bright red and his eyes widen when he sees me. After a quick glance and nod in my direction, he looks toward the finish and keeps going with everything he's got so that he can achieve his new personal record. There is no way I can keep up and so I watch from about 100 feet away as he raises his arms at the finish line. He is elated and exhausted. His gladness for the end and for his new record are equally portioned.
You cannot truly capture determination in a photo or a description. You cannot learn determination by your parent telling you what it is or how to go about it. It comes from within. It cannot be queued or summoned in attempt to impress or satisfy others. It's straight from the heart. On the eve of Charles' twelfth birthday, I was blessed to watch him and his heart. So on this day, it wasn't about the run.
I ran a 5k race (3.1 miles)this weekend and now have a new personal record. My older boys ran too. I am glad that I left with a new personal record(beating my previous best in a race I ran 6 years ago by 21 seconds)but the pride in this accomplishment does not compare to what my child blessed me to witness during this race.
Charles and I discussed how on the eve of his twelfth birthday on March twelfth, he will run a 5k and try and beat his personal record. I thought it would be a great way to spend his last day of being eleven years old and he agreed. As you can imagine, I feel exponentially blessed because I have children that run. (all three of them!) I had hoped to teach them that running is a great form of exercise that is both challenging and easy and does not require much of a monetary investment. I want them to take this knowledge with them into adulthood. There is nothing like being one with your body and willing yourself to move forward one step at a time and learning to alternate leading with the strength of your body, then the strength of your breathing. There is nothing like finishing a run that seemed daunting and impossible. There is nothing better than the challenge you face between you and yourself when you step out there propelled by nothing but the desire to remind yourself that you can indeed do it even when you think you can't. I want them to apply all of this to daily life as well and to know without doubt that there is great reward in a sense of accomplishment even when you do not receive a tangible prize. I want them to learn that if you push through and accept that there are parts of life that will be grueling and difficult, you can survive and achieve anything.
I'll back up a bit and mention that I gently reminded both of my boys that I planned to achieve a new personal record. Traditionally, I never finish ahead of them. I always make sure they are ahead of me for both safety and pride reasons, as silly as that sounds. This time, I wanted a little competition. I knew that we would propel each other if all bets were off. I teased Chris about the pending humiliation of being passed by his mother. I told Charlie that I would not run behind him, but that he better not get "smoked" by his mommy. Chris laughed at the mere thought of me finishing ahead of him, but honestly, I knew I had a good chance. He is slightly de-conditioned (wrestling ended and track season has not yet begun) and I am on a schedule that has me running an average of 20 miles a week.
When the race begins, we separate immediately and Chris is ahead but within my sight line and Charlie does just as I implored- he does not haul ass to keep up with us and he centers his mind on the race being against he and himself so he does not worry about the people (old men, overweight women, girls his age, etc.) around him. As we approach a hill my maternal instincts regret that I did not go over down-hill running with either of my boys and I start wondering if one of them will lose their bearing while running downhill. I consider turning around to meet up with Charlie but I decide that I need to trust him and keep running in spite of my concern.
I manage to finish one second behind Christopher. In the end, I couldn't have passed him if I tried, but during the final stretch, I doubt either of us had much steam left to pass the other and so we paced together. And I am stoked that my kid gave it 100% and I know that without the challenge of him just ahead, I might not have achieved my goal.
After I go through the finish chute, I run back to see Charlie to the end. I do not have to run far. I see him turn the corner at full steam smiling and striding wide. His arms are pumping ferociously. He is bright red and his eyes widen when he sees me. After a quick glance and nod in my direction, he looks toward the finish and keeps going with everything he's got so that he can achieve his new personal record. There is no way I can keep up and so I watch from about 100 feet away as he raises his arms at the finish line. He is elated and exhausted. His gladness for the end and for his new record are equally portioned.
You cannot truly capture determination in a photo or a description. You cannot learn determination by your parent telling you what it is or how to go about it. It comes from within. It cannot be queued or summoned in attempt to impress or satisfy others. It's straight from the heart. On the eve of Charles' twelfth birthday, I was blessed to watch him and his heart. So on this day, it wasn't about the run.
3/6/11
American Brat
Week 4 of training already! I gave the treadmill the four miles that Hal Higdon suggests. I was not into it. At all. I had a million excuses and rational reasons to cut the run short.
I am a morning person. I have been running at 7pm or later most of the time. I was totally prepared to go to the gym immediately after work (by 4:30pm) but had some creative justification to go home for awhile instead. Incidentally, I started my run sometime around 7 tonight.
I had nothing for this run. Four miles isn't forever, but it can feel like it if you just want to be done. My mind was all out of whack. I needed to be somewhere else, but as I have said before, a commitment to myself has to be as high a priority as a commitment I make to anyone else. So I know I'm going to put one foot in front of the other. Even when it sucks. Even when I don't want to and I could put this off and do it tomorrow instead. (Hal Higdon says it's ok to do that, for the record.)
So I'm at the gym and I'm on the treadmill. And it's moving under me and I am managing to keep myself there at a reasonable speed but I keep searching for good reasons to get off the thing. My heart rate will not regulate itself. My legs are tired and the visual stimuli (I go to a Retro Fitness- same color scheme as McfreakinDonalds) was particularly overwhelming. I'm not even ten minutes into the run when I decide that I'm going to stop at three miles. Each step is treacherous, but I am realizing that if I want to get through this run without feeling tortured every during single second, I've got to find a way to get my mind off of how treacherous it is. So I have to dig a little deep. I start thinking of what got me here in the first place. What gave me the privilege to choose to run a marathon. I drive here to run because it's too cold outside to run. I pay a monthly fee to use the equipment here. I am fortunate. I live in a country where for many, the greatest burdens are that they are allowed too much. We take too much. We have debt because creditors allow us to purchase more than we can afford. Whether it's a house or a car or clothes or shoes or jewelry, we are burdened by our debt. We were given more than we deserved, and now we're upset about it. The same goes for food. We have to expend energy on machines like treadmills and stationary bikes and weight lifting machines because we have too much food. We stuff our faces, claim we need food and derive joy from it, and now we're upset about it because our health is at risk or we can't move and don't look the way we think we are supposed to. And I think about who lived before me. My mother lived in a third world country and lacked basic necessities. My grandparents went hungry regularly and struggled to feed their children and never once felt the burden of debt as a result of buying one too many cute pairs of shoes. I'm such an American baby brat, moving on my treadmill, burdened by own overindulgence.
And why am I here? Oh that's right, I have a lofty goal. One that I chose on my own. One that I committed to in order to challenge myself. Am I seriously going to balk at a four mile run because it's HARD? What brought me here? Hunger? Struggle? Strife and heartache? Am I about to step off just because what I chose to do is difficult???? Freakin' American brat...
I am a morning person. I have been running at 7pm or later most of the time. I was totally prepared to go to the gym immediately after work (by 4:30pm) but had some creative justification to go home for awhile instead. Incidentally, I started my run sometime around 7 tonight.
I had nothing for this run. Four miles isn't forever, but it can feel like it if you just want to be done. My mind was all out of whack. I needed to be somewhere else, but as I have said before, a commitment to myself has to be as high a priority as a commitment I make to anyone else. So I know I'm going to put one foot in front of the other. Even when it sucks. Even when I don't want to and I could put this off and do it tomorrow instead. (Hal Higdon says it's ok to do that, for the record.)
So I'm at the gym and I'm on the treadmill. And it's moving under me and I am managing to keep myself there at a reasonable speed but I keep searching for good reasons to get off the thing. My heart rate will not regulate itself. My legs are tired and the visual stimuli (I go to a Retro Fitness- same color scheme as McfreakinDonalds) was particularly overwhelming. I'm not even ten minutes into the run when I decide that I'm going to stop at three miles. Each step is treacherous, but I am realizing that if I want to get through this run without feeling tortured every during single second, I've got to find a way to get my mind off of how treacherous it is. So I have to dig a little deep. I start thinking of what got me here in the first place. What gave me the privilege to choose to run a marathon. I drive here to run because it's too cold outside to run. I pay a monthly fee to use the equipment here. I am fortunate. I live in a country where for many, the greatest burdens are that they are allowed too much. We take too much. We have debt because creditors allow us to purchase more than we can afford. Whether it's a house or a car or clothes or shoes or jewelry, we are burdened by our debt. We were given more than we deserved, and now we're upset about it. The same goes for food. We have to expend energy on machines like treadmills and stationary bikes and weight lifting machines because we have too much food. We stuff our faces, claim we need food and derive joy from it, and now we're upset about it because our health is at risk or we can't move and don't look the way we think we are supposed to. And I think about who lived before me. My mother lived in a third world country and lacked basic necessities. My grandparents went hungry regularly and struggled to feed their children and never once felt the burden of debt as a result of buying one too many cute pairs of shoes. I'm such an American baby brat, moving on my treadmill, burdened by own overindulgence.
And why am I here? Oh that's right, I have a lofty goal. One that I chose on my own. One that I committed to in order to challenge myself. Am I seriously going to balk at a four mile run because it's HARD? What brought me here? Hunger? Struggle? Strife and heartache? Am I about to step off just because what I chose to do is difficult???? Freakin' American brat...
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