Month: January 2017

jan 31/XT

70 degrees
road bike on stand, the front room

Another bike session. 33 minutes. Watched the men’s 10000 meters from the 2012 London Olympics on YouTube. Chose it because the video was 39 minutes long and because I like watching running when I’m biking. What a great race. Not fast, but very strategic. Mo Farrah won gold, Rupp silver. Runners were bunched up for most of the race, with the announcer warning that they could easily get tripped up in such close proximity to each other. When I run in a race, I’m not usually around other runners. Most of the time, it’s deliberate. I like the solitude of running and I don’t always trust other runners. They flail their limbs, jab their elbows, spread out and block the road or dart out unexpectedly.

As I prepare for running a marathon, I wonder if this strategy of isolation is harmful.

jan 30/4 MILES

30 degrees
mississippi river road bike path

Snowed this morning. Less than an inch, but enough to cover all the sidewalks. Took Delia out for a walk before heading out for run. Partly because she needed one and partly to test how slippery it was on the sidewalks. Very slippery, it turns out. Towards the end of our walk, Delia darted after something, yanking the leash. I slipped, spun around, almost regained my balance and then fell on the ground. Very lucky to not be hurt at all. Decided to go out for my run anyway. Risky, but worth it. The sidewalk was slippery, but the bike path was not.

Had a decent run. Encountered the snow plow clearing off the path. Minneapolis Parks are the best (literally, the best) park system. They clear the river road path within a few hours after it’s stopped snowing, even faster than the city of Minneapolis clears the streets, which is pretty fast too. Love this city. And love the kick-ass park system!

podcast: How to Be Amazing, ep 48 (M Lewis’ tone seemed more arrogant than confident. Not a big fan.)

jan 29/4 MILES

25 degrees
mississippi river road bike and walking path

Another week of running done. A bit cold. Fairly windy. But, I didn’t really care. It was a nice run.

Encountered a big group of runners–I refer to these groups as “trots of runners.” Some organized run, with water stops. I’ve been thinking it might be good to try one of these runs once I’m into the serious miles, but I don’t know. I like to run by myself. To almost, but not quite, get lost in the dreamlike state when everything shifts and it’s all a bit fuzzy. I need a new word for fuzzy: out of focus? distorted? bewildered? but not disembodied, because I still feel my body. 

In Poverty Creek Journal, Gardner describes the dreamlike state in many different ways, including: “I’m hardly aware of myself, my edges grown fluid and instinct. Not real speed. No thinking. What would it take to enter this dream, to let it take me completely?”

He contrasts this dreamy state with reminders from his body…so far in my close re-reading of it, he’s discussed an aching calf. For me, it’s my right knee. The one with the bone spur. Also the one that hurt so much a few weeks after I started running over 5 years ago that I almost stopped completely. That knee keeps me from getting lost, from running too fast or with too much abandon. It doesn’t usually bother me, but it frequently haunts my runs, putting me on edge, wondering if my training will keep me injury-free.

jan 28/REST

Unlike last week, I had no problem not running today. Maybe it was because I was really busy or because my 9+ mile run yesterday took a lot out of me.

I didn’t run, but I did stretch. I don’t know when it started–probably when I began running–but whenever I’m standing around waiting for something, I stretch. Touch my toes. Do some calf raises. An occasional squat. When I’m waiting for my daughter outside of her school, I stretch. In line at a coffee place, I stretch. During halftime at one of my kids’ basketball games, stretch. Is that strange? Does anyone else do that? I’m not sure. I imagine that random people–like other parents waiting outside of the school—know me as “stretchy girl.”  “Oh look, it’s stretchy girl, stretching again,” they might say.

Makes me think of my old neighborhood. Years ago, there was a woman who walked all the time and all over the place. For hours, it seemed. She didn’t walk in a casual way, lazily ambling along, or with a smile on her face. She walked fast and with determination. And she looked really mad…all the time. My neighbor down the street dubbed her, “angry walker.” “Did you see angry walker today?” he might ask and then add, “well I did….about five miles away. She looked pissed!”

I’m sure that I stretch partly for practical reasons, to loosen up my muscles and stay limber. But I also stretch because I’m restless. I have trouble standing around. I want to move. When I’m in a line, if I didn’t stretch, I’d probably just wander off (which is something I do do if my husband is in line too; he waits, I wander).

jan 27/9.3 MILES

28 degrees
mississippi river road bike path

9.3 miles. It’s not quite the 10 that I’m supposed to do, but I’ll take it. This is the longest I’ve run (distance and time) without stopping for more than a year. I’m tired. I should have brought some water and a snack–I’m thinking of trying dates or fig newtons–to eat in the middle of my run. But I ran it. And I’ll run it again next week. Maybe on my scheduled day or, like this week, on the day that works out the best.

As I ran, I listened to two podcasts. First, On Being/ Krista Tippet’s interview with Eula Biss. Biss writes about racism and white guilt/debt/privilege. I’ve read one of her books, her great article about Little House on the Prairie and her essay for the NY Times on White Debt. I like her writing and appreciate her willingness to engage with whiteness. And second, This American Life with several stories about Trump on the eve of the inauguration.

Almost the only time that I listen to podcasts is when I’m running. Lots of This American Life. Some Radiolab. Most of How to Be Amazing. I listened to the entire first season of Serial while running on the missisissippi river road path. The stories in those podcasts are so inextricably tied with my runs that on the rare occasion that I listen to an episode again, I immediately picture exactly where I was in my run. I like that.

jan 26/4 MILES

28 degrees/feels like 17 degrees
minnehaha creek path/mississippi river road bike path
14 mph wind

I added in the wind this time because I really felt it. When I first started, I was running directly into it and the sun. The harsh wind and the bright light made me tear up so much that I had trouble seeing.

After the snow yesterday and the slight drop in temperature, the paths were icy. When I first started to run outside in the winter, a few years ago, I was surprised to discover that running on ice is much easier than walking on it. Even so, it was slippery today.

In Philosophical Investigations, Ludwig Wittgenstein discusses smooth ice:

We have got on to slippery ice where there is no friction and so in a certain sense the conditions are ideal, but also, just because of that, we are unable to walk. We want to walk: so we need friction. Back to the rough ground!

I don’t like running on rough ground–I have yet to try trail running–but I like the idea that we need to feel that ground beneath us.

In a different way, I see Gardner getting at this idea in one of his entries in Poverty Creek Journal (which I just happened to be writing about earlier today in my weekly assignment):

1/ JANUARY 6, 2012

Finishing up the run this morning, cresting the ridge above the pond into a sudden blinding sun reflecting off the ice. As if the light were alive, preparing to speak. And then turning ordinary again as I came down the ridge and the angle changed and the light pulled back into itself. My right calf is still a little stiff from where I strained it last week doing mile repeats in the cold. Just enough to not let me out of my body. When Emily Dickinson writes about Jacob, she never mentions his limp, even though that awareness of limits is everywhere in her work. Instead, she writes about his bewilderment–cunning Jacob, refusing to let go until he had received a blessing and then suddenly realizing, as “light swung…silver fleeces” across the “Hills beyond,” that he had been wrestling all night with God. He had seen God’s face and lived. The limp is what we take away. It means there must be a way back. It almost goes without saying (3).

Even as we try to transcend our bodies while running, we are constantly reminded of our limits. We are bodies. We need that reminder to ground us and to keep us from getting too lost in the dreamlike state that running creates. Gardner discusses the dreamlike state in several other entries. 

listened to podcast: how to be amazing, ep 49

jan 25/XT

70 degrees
road bike on stand, the front room

Rode my bike for 30 minutes in the front room while watching the rest of the men’s marathon from Rio and a condensed version of the women’s marathon. Biking felt good after spending too much time reading the frightening headlines about the multiple executive orders being issued this week. Strength, endurance and a physical outlet for anxiety and rage are essential for surviving the next four years.

29 degrees
mississippi river gorge

As a bonus, took the dog (Delia, aka “the dealz”) out for a walk in the freshly fallen snow. We hiked down in the Mississippi Gorge for just a short stretch of the Winchell trail. Beautiful. I like when the trees are bare and you can see further into the woods. I scan it reverently and anxiously, wondering what might be sharing the woods with us. Last fall, I saw a fox, just 20 feet away. A murder of crows (I’ve always wanted to write that!), circles above us, cawing furiously.

I need to take more walks like this one. It’s hard in the winter, when there’s so little daylight and I’m spending so much time running.

 

jan 24/3.25 MILES

32 degrees
mississippi river road bike path

Almost below freezing today. It’s supposed to snow tonight, but will it? I just heard on the radio (Jazz 88) that it could be “slushy snow.” Awesome.

My run was good. Today I decided to pick up the pace, which was hard. The pace (avg. 8:15) wasn’t faster than I’ve run in the past, but since I’m running a lot slower these days (9:30-10:00 pace), it felt hard. When I run as fast as I did today, I don’t experience much. And I don’t think much, just: when will this be over? and what would happen if I slowed way down or stopped?

I’ve been running slower since mid December. I decided to try it out because I’ve been having difficulty for years being “trained up” enough for my longer races, like the 10 mile or 1/2 marathon. I run too fast when I train and have difficulty running long distances or sustaining lots of miles for more than a few weeks.

I thought running slow would be hard. With a fairly steady pace of 8:30-8:40 for over three years, I couldn’t imagine running 1 to 1.5 minutes slower. Physically it seemed difficult and mentally it seemed impossible.

But it’s not. It’s actually great. And I don’t even care when other people pass me. I’m enjoying the running more and recovering faster.

As the weeks and months go by, I’ll see if running slow helps me run longer and stronger…and maybe even faster. Initially, it felt wrong and scary. What if I slow down and can’t ever run fast enough? Is running this slow doing anything? But it’s starting to make sense.

I like when I can break a bad habit (running too fast) and start building up a new one (slower and stronger).

an afterthought: Rereading this entry, I have an immediate reaction: Ugh, this log is pretty boring. I wonder, why am I writing such boring accounts of my running? But then I remember that part of this project is to be more honest in how I express myself. Guess what? My running self is boring and mundane and fixates on specific habits and practices. And that’s okay.

jan 23/4 MILES

35 degrees
minnehaha creek path/mississippi river road bike path

A gray day. Warmish, but gloomy. Days like today make it hard for me to see. It’s not really dark outside, just overcast. But because of my macular dystrophy, overcast feels a lot darker. And it makes everything look fuzzy, like I’m seeing it through a slightly dirty piece of plastic.

Running really isn’t a problem when my vision feels limited like this. I can see well enough. And, since I’m mostly running on paths, I only rarely have to worry about cars. But it still feels…weird.

I wish I could articulate the sense of disconnection I feel when my sight is fuzzy. It’s as if I’m running in my own bubble. I’d like to work on developing my other senses to compensate for this disconnection and to embrace experiencing the world differently: to hear it or smell it or touch it, not just see it.

I think I’ll challenge myself to try this out.

jan 22/4 MILES

36 degrees
mississippi river road bike path/lake street bridge

It was nice to run over the Lake street bridge. In the winter, the path on the bridge is often icy, so I usually try to avoid it. But, with the warmer weather, everything has melted. The bridge was clear. Weird. I keep having to remind myself that it’s only January and that we have a lot of winter left.

I didn’t think about much while I was running. This makes for a boring blog post about my run, but a welcome respite from my constant thinking during the rest of my day. It’s nice not to think.