Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Holiday season blues
Rough going during the holiday season... I was on a running roll until the Christmas festivities got under way. Looks like I'll be hurtin' something mighty next week. Alas, such is life.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
An old coach and some new motivation
I ran in to one of my high school cross-country coaches at Costco this weekend. Technically, he wasn't my coach since I didn't go to his school and instead just trained with them during the summer months, but I considered him one then and I consider him one today.
Despite recurring shin splints and an incredibly lazy approach to pain, Coach took me under his wing and encouraged me to win. He taught me hard work through morning summer runs in the desert followed by two hours swimming laps in the city pool. He also taught me a thing or too about relaxation: giving me cheese and crackers after 30-mile bike rides and ice cream when I swam the length of the pool without taking a breath.
Coach was more than a coach to me, he was like a dad.
I'll never forget the time he got lost during one of our weekend bike rides and the look of relief when he finally discovered me at Village Inn chowing down with the bike group.
****For the record: that's right, HE got lost. I was with the group, so therefore I was right where I was supposed to be. But that's a story for another day.****
There was the time I called him old in the pool and managed to get away unscathed because swimming wasn't his strongest sport. Or the time I thought he would strangle me for talking back to the race coordinators right before the gun went off.
That's why it felt so awful when I gave up at State my junior year and ended up finishing fifth from last. I'll never forget that face. The disappointment and sadness he must have felt from watching so much invested time and energy swirl down the toilet. I had no good excuse, no real reason; I had simply quit.
I still can't think about that race without feeling slightly guilty, and to be honest, it's one of the driving forces behind this blog, this fundraising. I know my tendencies towards laziness, Coach is one of the many who are also aware, and this has served as a good way to break that cycle. It was unfortunately too easy for me to throw aside Coach's investment that November I botched the race. I knew him well, I knew he would continue to like me despite a failure here and there.
It's a wee-bit harder to throw away the financial investment and support of acquaintances.
Granted, there's also the fact that I have grown-up and have come to equate life to a long distance run (it's a marathon, not a sprint). I've also learned to run, not for myself or anyone else, but as a form of worship to my Lord and Saviour. I mean, hell, if He's gonna give me two legs that work and a ridiculous ability to run no matter what, I may as well do something with it, right? What good that worship may be, or what it might actually be doing for the world, I'm not sure. I suppose the efforts to raise funds for the beautiful babies in Chuka is a start. What I do know is that nothing is a mistake and if I can make my body do this, why should I not?
Eight years ago I stood in front of Coach at that finish line feeling discouraged and silly. Sunday, I got to stand in front of him feeling older, wiser and proud of what I was setting out to accomplish.
I love it when that happens.
Despite recurring shin splints and an incredibly lazy approach to pain, Coach took me under his wing and encouraged me to win. He taught me hard work through morning summer runs in the desert followed by two hours swimming laps in the city pool. He also taught me a thing or too about relaxation: giving me cheese and crackers after 30-mile bike rides and ice cream when I swam the length of the pool without taking a breath.
Coach was more than a coach to me, he was like a dad.
I'll never forget the time he got lost during one of our weekend bike rides and the look of relief when he finally discovered me at Village Inn chowing down with the bike group.
****For the record: that's right, HE got lost. I was with the group, so therefore I was right where I was supposed to be. But that's a story for another day.****
There was the time I called him old in the pool and managed to get away unscathed because swimming wasn't his strongest sport. Or the time I thought he would strangle me for talking back to the race coordinators right before the gun went off.
That's why it felt so awful when I gave up at State my junior year and ended up finishing fifth from last. I'll never forget that face. The disappointment and sadness he must have felt from watching so much invested time and energy swirl down the toilet. I had no good excuse, no real reason; I had simply quit.
I still can't think about that race without feeling slightly guilty, and to be honest, it's one of the driving forces behind this blog, this fundraising. I know my tendencies towards laziness, Coach is one of the many who are also aware, and this has served as a good way to break that cycle. It was unfortunately too easy for me to throw aside Coach's investment that November I botched the race. I knew him well, I knew he would continue to like me despite a failure here and there.
It's a wee-bit harder to throw away the financial investment and support of acquaintances.
Granted, there's also the fact that I have grown-up and have come to equate life to a long distance run (it's a marathon, not a sprint). I've also learned to run, not for myself or anyone else, but as a form of worship to my Lord and Saviour. I mean, hell, if He's gonna give me two legs that work and a ridiculous ability to run no matter what, I may as well do something with it, right? What good that worship may be, or what it might actually be doing for the world, I'm not sure. I suppose the efforts to raise funds for the beautiful babies in Chuka is a start. What I do know is that nothing is a mistake and if I can make my body do this, why should I not?
Eight years ago I stood in front of Coach at that finish line feeling discouraged and silly. Sunday, I got to stand in front of him feeling older, wiser and proud of what I was setting out to accomplish.
I love it when that happens.
Monday, December 12, 2011
3.72 Miles and counting
Went for a nice run yesterday afternoon and managed to bust out 3.72 miles! Bam! I definitely didn't realize that's how far I was going and to be honest, I'm kind of glad. It made it easier to enjoy myself. I was running for time and time I did - 36 minutes. I feel accomplished.
I had tried to get out of the house for a run all weekend and it kept not happening - too much else going on. When I finally did, I was determined to make the most of it. I focused on the fact that it was a beautiful day and I was lucky enough to be out and using my legs. I repeated all manner of silly mumbo jumbo encouragement to myself throughout and ended up finishing with a solid pace for the home stretch.
I love runs like that!
On a side note, it's incredible how much easier a run becomes when I focus on doing my best for my Savior and quit thinking about how much it hurts...
I had tried to get out of the house for a run all weekend and it kept not happening - too much else going on. When I finally did, I was determined to make the most of it. I focused on the fact that it was a beautiful day and I was lucky enough to be out and using my legs. I repeated all manner of silly mumbo jumbo encouragement to myself throughout and ended up finishing with a solid pace for the home stretch.
I love runs like that!
On a side note, it's incredible how much easier a run becomes when I focus on doing my best for my Savior and quit thinking about how much it hurts...
In case you were curious, here were the exact details from mapmyrun.com.
That website (and app) rocks my socks off...
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