july 6/2.1 MILES

75 degrees
69% humidity
mississippi river road path, south/mississippi river road path, north

Completed a quick tempo run this hot and humid morning. Felt good. Realized that during my race on Tuesday, I didn’t use any of my spells/mantras/chants. I didn’t think about my breathing. Maybe that would have helped?

Biking: 8 miles
Swimming: 1500 yards

Here’s something I wrote for my writing class this week:

In Out
Take in oxygen Release carbon dioxide
Take in the world, the colors: the greens and browns of the gorge floor, the grays of the sky on a cloudy day, the electric blue of the yarn bomb on the railroad bridge, the bright yellow-green of the runner’s shirt, the orange of the traffic cone, the red of the stop sign, the purple of the lilac bush, the pink of my jacket, the silvery-white of the river as the sun dances on its surface. Breathe in and accept what the world is offering: Energy. Life. Inspiration. Release worries and doubts, expel that which is toxic, force out and offer up what you don’t need, what you don’t want, what doesn’t provide energy or life. Expiration.
Favorite reason for holding my breath, kid version: completing 10 back flips in a row under water at the neighborhood pool. My sister and I used to practice this all summer. One time she dreamed that Darth Vader had kidnapped me. He tied me to a grill and threatened to kill me unless she could complete 10 back flips in a row without stopping to breathe. She did it, of course. What you might say to your kid when she’s freaking out: Calm down and take some deep breaths.

What, in retaliation, she might do: Turn blue.

Breathing in winter is ______.

1. difficult, my lungs are burning!
2. fun when it’s so cold that the snot in my nose freezes up.
3. the best. I love the cold, pure air.

Breathing in summer is ______.

1. dangerous. Watch out for the bugs!
2. incredibly difficult after an open swim.
3. so thick! I hate humidity.

What you need for breathing: lungs, intercostal muscles, a diaphragm, comfortable pants What you don’t need: someone telling you to calm down and breathe.
Breathing and ethical imperatives, inspired by Judith Butler: A life that is livable is only possible when you have room to breathe. A life that is valuable/valued is only possible when you breathe more good air in. What Nietzsche writes about bad air in On the Genealogy of Morals: “What is it exactly that I find so totally unbearable? Something which I cannot deal with on my own, which makes me choke and feel faint? Bad air! Bad air! It’s when something which has failed comes close to me, when I have to smell the entrails of a failed soul!”
Smells smelled while breathing during a run: burnt toast; smoke from a fire, below me, somewhere deep in the gorge; skunk; rotting leaves; too much perfume on the runner I passed; chemicals after the rain; the sewer; the inside rim of my super nasty baseball cap that I’ve been wearing, and have never washed, for almost every run and almost every race for the past 5 years. Number of times I’ve attempted a snot rocket or shooting shot not out of my nose, mid-run: 1.

Number of times that attempt has failed: 1.

What breathes: noses; mouths; skin; leaves. living things. What doesn’t breathe: that annoying race t-shirt; my mom, not since Sept. 30, 2009.
Reasons why we breathe: so we don’t die; to embrace the world; to take in oxygen; to calm down; to walk; to run; to fly; we don’t need a reason, our body will do it anyway. Reasons why I can’t breathe: too much humidity; running too fast; a stuffed-up nose from inhaling lake water; finding out my mom was dying from stage 4 pancreatic cancer.
How to breathe in: Use your lungs. Breathe in deeply through your nose and mouth, with your diaphragm. As your abdomen extends, so does your invitation to the world to enter and fill you with wonder and gratitude. How to breathe out: Relax your shoulders. Let your body do the work of forcing the carbon dioxide out. Let go of the toxins, the resistance to grieving what you are losing or have lost. Prepare for another breath.

july 4/13.1 MILES

72 degrees
77% humidity
Half Marathon Race/Red White and Boom

I’m not disappointed with my race, even though I did not stick to my plan, which was to stop every 1.25 miles and walk. I stopped many more times. I had several problems. The first problem: I couldn’t stop at 1.25 miles because it was too crowded. Second: the double hills around 3.5 miles sucked up a lot of energy. Third: the hills around mile 8 were also exhausting. Fourth: It was too hot not to be carrying a water bottle with me. Getting water every 2.5 miles was too long.

My time was slower than I’d like and I resorted to walking, then running a little, then walking again for the last 2-3 miles. My biggest feeling at the end of the race: I’m done and I don’t have to race this again! This is the second time I’ve run this particular race and I think it’s clear to me: I don’t like it. The race is organized well. I just don’t like it. The route. The heat. The super early start (we got up at 4:45 and left the house by 5:45).

Random Things I Remember:

  • Waiting in line for the porta potty before the race started and just barely making it to the start line.
  • The very slim and tall young woman ahead of me in a white tank top with bright blue shorts.
  • Stepping on something and having my feet stick to the ground on every step for about a mile.
  • How crowded it was for the first 2 miles.
  • Feeling wiped out by the first big hill at around 3 and a half miles.
  • The guy who was fat shaming Rosie O’Donnell.
  • The other guy who yelled to his friends as they passed the 2:05 pacing group: “come on! unless you want to run as slow as this group!”
  • Initially being annoyed by the pacer running near me because of his loud trivia game but then seeing him as a fellow runner and person when he had to stop pacing because the humidity was making it difficult for him to breathe. An important reminder to see the humanity in everyone first, before anything else.
  • The loud “woo hoo” that erupted behind me by some runner–it couldn’t possibly be the same one every time–when we approached a water stop.
  • Hearing a race volunteer yell out to a runner pushing a stroller, “Alright! Making it a family affair.” And then another runner yelling out, “That’s illegal!” I’m pretty sure it is. Almost always, races like this don’t allow strollers. 
  • The women on the bus yelling at the cops directing traffic to stop the runners and let the bus go through so that she could get to work. That same woman yelling at the runner just in front of me because the runner was giving her a snarky look. I struggle with how to feel about this one. Shutting down streets for the race can be a big burden for non-racers who need the roads. This incident seems to highlight the privilege involved with racing. Yet, I appreciate that the roads are shut down.
  • Encountering a woman who was breathing so heavily that I thought she might pass out as she passed me while I was taking a walk break. Passing her when I started running. Then having her pass me when I walked again.
  • Listening in as two women planned their future training runs. “When should we do our next 10 mile run?”
  • Watching as two runners stopped so that one of them, a woman in a bra and skirt, could stretch her ankle, which seemed to be hurt.
  • Walking up a hill that never seemed to end.
  • Listening in on another conversation as one woman told the other, “We already passed her. I hope she isn’t mad that I didn’t say hi. I think it’s rude to say hi when you’re passing someone.”
  • Approaching the halfway point, and the place where the first member of the relay teams finished and then next one began, and hearing a guy who was running in the relay yell out “which way to I go?” as he approached some orange cones dividing the road. Because it was very clearly marked, with a sign and volunteers directing you, I wondered if he was joking or serious.
  • The annoying volunteer that kept yelling out, “come on, smile! smiles are required!”
  • Not smiling and hearing him say, “I guess we’ve got some tired runners out there.”
  • Watching the pacer who had stopped pacing earlier in the race pass me at around mile 11.
  • A tall man running with his head tilted sharply down to the right. I wondered, was he exhausted or does he always run that way?
  • Overheard several times by several different groups: Are you okay? Can you keep running?
  • Overheard by a woman to her friend as they approached a porta potty with a long line: “Are you going to stop?” The woman answered: “Nah, I’m good.” Her friend: “Are you sure?”
  • Giving a few high-fives to kids who had their hands stretched out on the route.
  • Hearing one runner say, “Hey, what’s that?” Their running buddy: “A monument.” The first runner, again: “Cool. Hey, check out that library. They don’t make libraries like that anymore. I want to go there.”

That’s all I can remember.

 

 

july 3/1.8 MILES

75 degrees
lake swim: 500 yards
bike to lake nokomis and back: 8.5 miles

Biked over to the lake and tried out my new watch. I’m not sure if it got the correct distance. Looking forward to seeing how it works in the swim across the lake on Thursday. Tomorrow is the half marathon. It’s supposed to be warm and humid. I’ll be happy when it’s finished. I’ve raced in two half marathons. One went very well, the other didn’t. The one that didn’t was this marathon, 2 years ago. I think I can do a much better job this time, especially if I stick to my plan.

*Squeezed in a bonus run of 1.8 miles in the late afternoon when it was 81 degrees.

july 2/XT

68 degrees
open swim: 2 loops/2400 yards
bike to lake nokomis and back: 7 miles

Some Thoughts on Cross-training with Best’s Disease

Biking to the lake was difficult. A little scary when other bikers approached me, especially when they were biking too fast. My depth perception is pretty bad and I can’t always judge the distance between me and the approaching bikers. Hard to focus because of my macular dystrophy. Had to decide between looking forward and paying attention to where I was going or looking down to make sure that there weren’t any big cracks or debris on the path. Couldn’t do both because my eyes couldn’t focus on both or because my brain couldn’t handle all the jumbled signals it was receiving from my scrambled eyes or for some other reason that I don’t quite understand. I chose to look ahead. Luckily there wasn’t anything on the path. As I got used to the unsettling feeling of not quite seeing everything and just trusting that I was seeing enough, it got easier.

Successfully made it to the lake for open swim. A beautiful sunny morning. It’s always harder to swim across the lake in the morning. The sun is in my eyes as I swim to the smaller beach, making it difficult to see the big orange triangles out on the lake, marking the path. I’m sure it’s hard for anyone, but sunny days really mess with my already messed up macula. It’s also difficult to see because there are fewer landmarks to guide me. No big, sandy beach with the yellow boats on the one side that I track in my peripheral vision to ensure that I don’t stray too far to the right. No big beach house with the roof that you can see across the lake, even when you can’t see anything else. No white canopy. No tall light pole. On Sunday mornings, during my first trip across the lake, I’m usually swimming blind. Just trusting that my stroke is straight. It almost always is. And, now that I’ve been swimming across the lake for four years, I’m used to the feeling of swimming blind. It doesn’t make me panic or stop swimming. By the second loop, if I do one, I’ve figured out where the triangles are and worry even less about seeing them.

july 1/7.5 MILES

62 degrees
87% humidity
dew point 57
lake nokomis loop short, slight variation

This run was harder, but I still followed my plan, stopping every 1.25 miles. What happened on my run? At first, I couldn’t remember. It seemed like it was just about getting through the run and sticking to my plan. Then I started to remember some things. Here’s a list.

Things that Happened on my Run

Lots of runners greeted me on the path. Most of the time, I greeted them back. Missed one when she ran by too fast. Saw some rowers at the lake, one had rowed over to the floating dock and was lounging on it as I ran by. Didn’t encounter any big groups of runners, but two mini pelotons (bikers) on the path. Saw some ducks and some dogs. Heard some birds. Had some bugs fly into my eye, but not my mouth. Didn’t encounter any sprinklers. Stopped at two red lights. Was passed by one runner, who greeted me. Found myself watching his strange gait. His legs moved smoothly and rhythmically, but his arms were hanging low and wide. Stepped off the path by accident and my knee let me know I’d made a mistake with a quick, sharp pain, followed by a duller pain for a few minutes. Forgot which direction I was planning to go for a few seconds, took a wrong turn, and then had to backtrack about 20 feet. Ran by 2 playgrounds, one that had kids playing, the other that didn’t. Heard the rowers practicing on the river and at least one car honking. Were there more? Also heard some loud rustlings and big plops while running at Lake Nokomis. Was it the waves from a boat or something else? A duck? A fish? A dog? A….?