Sunday, February 19, 2012

"Remember not the events of the past..."

The title of today's entry is from the Catholic church's first reading for mass today.  It is from Isaiah 43:18.  Despite the fact that today's readings also included Jesus healing a paralyzed person, the priest who indicated we should look for something truly amazing in the readings was really trying to get us to focus on the phrase that is the title here.

He commented extensively on it.  It makes me reflect on the whole taper once again.  During the taper, I think about the run coming up.  That is looking ahead.  I also think about past marathons.  The key from today's readings is that while I may learn lessons from past runs, there is really no value in dwelling on the things in the past.  The priest was not saying we should totally forget the past but not dwell on it.  Not be trying to escape negative experiences that happened or letting them constrict our futures.  Not trying to always relive or protect a powerfully positive experience in a way that prevents exploring new things in the future.  So much of this can relate to running as well as the rest of life.  Dwelling on past runs--good or bad--really doesn't help with the next race any more than dwelling on a past event in life really changes what we do in the future other than bringing what is likely to be an unnatural limit to our experience and life.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Enjoy the Taper

Today, someone who is always a friend, sometimes a fellow runner (almost always ahead of me in races), sometimes a coach, and sometimes my advisee in my job as a professor, was writing an email to me about a race I'd registered for last night and I commented on my upcoming marathon run in three weeks.  Three weeks before a marathon, many runners begin what is called a taper.  A time to let the body rest and heal while keeping up enough activity to avoid losing strength and cardio.  The theory is that the body is ready to run the 26.2 miles of a marathon.  That doesn't change in three weeks.  What does change is that with rested and healed muscles the performance on race day is the best it can be.

Do most runners enjoy the taper--as was suggested to me?  Suffice it to say that a lot is written about the difficulty of the taper.  A runner's body is so used to so much more activity that it is difficult to slow down.  Runners get tense.  Runners get antsy.   Runners get irritable.  I have been all of these before, but as I go into my fourth (and for a while final) marathon, I think that I actually can enjoy the taper.

I view the taper for exactly what it is.  A time of rest.  A time to get back to doing other things as I spend less time running.  That may be more blogging.  More cooking.  More time with family.  Getting a melody written for some lyrics that have been sitting around for a couple months.  

It is also a time to look ahead to the race.  A time to reflect on how I got here.  And a time to think about what comes after the marathon.  Not looking past the marathon in the sense of concentrating on something else beyond he race, but just asking what I will do with the time?  Probably after the race even more of what I said for before the race.  I even will think about what running means and how to continue to have it be an important part of my life without being the somewhat consuming  part of my life that it has become over the past year.

So, since I have learned after three marathons what this part of training feels like, I really think I can enjoy the taper and begin to think about what will come after the marathon.  No matter how fast or how slow I run, I will look forward to the experience of the race and all that life has to offer when it is done.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Losing Form

Sometimes in running I get going so fast that I forget about form.  Sometimes it's not just about the path to the finish line or even just reaching the finish line, but it is about how I reach the finish line.  So, slowing down to right myself may be the best move.

Lesson in running on the track this morning (even without an actual fall).  Lesson for life.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Symbols and Running

A few random thoughts from recent running.

Many of my blog topics recently have been about relating lessons of running to the rest of real life and lessons from real life back to running.  What I have not written about in a while is symbolism.  When I have written about links between bible verses and running, I think of that as an example of symbolism.  So, on a recent run I was pondering symbolism and running.

My first thought was of a winged foot/winged shoe image.  This is an image that is often used on track and cross country uniforms.  I saw it in the pins I received to go along with my letters in high school.  It is a symbol that goes back to Hermes in Greek mythology.  It is a neat symbol for which I have some nostalgia. But it is not a symbol of the belief system that I hold so dear now--my Catholic faith that I teach in Sunday school and that I support through the music ministry that I play with.

So, what would fit better?  Well, I looked to patron saints.  I wondered if there is a patron saint of runners--there does not appear to be.  But there is a patron saint of athletes.  It is Saint Sebastian.

Saint Sebastian is a martyr from before 300 in the common era.  Whether his story is more than legend, I don't know.  But the link to athletics is that he energetically spread the Gospel and he survived (through physical endurance) an attempt on his life where archers shot him.

When taking a quick look at how he is depicted in art, I noticed three themes.  One theme is just Saint Sebastian by himself at the a tree pierced by arrows.  This would symbolize desperation and loneliness that endurance athletes can feel--for me, this is especially true when I am running alone.  But it doesn't symbolize the glory of God in ways that speak to me.

A second theme is Saint Sebastian with the arrows with an angel in the scene.  A symbol of the mystery of God's presence despite suffering.  A symbol of the fact that God is always present despite our suffering.  A symbol of God being with endurance athletes stride for stride, or pedal for pedal, or stroke for stroke all depending on your sport.

A third theme shows Saint Sebastian with Saint Irene tending to him.  This symbolizes the importance of enduring with others and how others can help to lighten the load of having to endure anything.  I think of the many friends who have helped me after runs--especially after my most recent marathon.

The second and third  themes really speak clearly to me.  God is omnipresent and enduring with others is a gift from God.  I could also imagine the angel carrying a scroll with the verse I started my marathon running with, 1 Cor 13:13 that reminds us that of faith, hope, and love, the greatest is love.  The love of God for us.  The love of one person for another.  And the two themes go along with this quite nicely.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Runner's Serenity Prayer

When I found out today that I'd missed the registration for the race I was hoping to run in early March, a twist on the serenity prayer came to mind:

God, grant me the serenity to accept that I missed the registration for a race I was hoping to run, the courage to make sure that I never miss another registration opportunity, and the wisdom to know how to make this happen.  

And, as I always try to make sure to link my running lessons to life's lessons, I'd add:

And, in all other things in life, give me the serenity, wisdom, and courage to actually make the things that I can change actually change rather than just letting things ride.  

Why is that second part important?  It's the things that I let ride that just drive me crazy after a while and don't help my spiritual or physical well-being.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

More on Being Only Human

From February 2011 through September 2011, I ran six 8-lap (i.e., 2 mile) runs on outdoor tracks for time.  Each time I improved.  I did my first since September today and I was between my last two but not faster.  I'm only human.

It's another running and life lesson for me.

(1) It is simply not possible to improve ad infinitum.  Sooner or later we all max out.  This applies in career as well as in running.  Sometimes it's just one race.  Sometimes it's just a week in a career.  Sometimes it is years where things just seem to be hanging.

(2) Along with that, there will be ups (of which I have been fortunate to have many) and downs.  This wasn't too much of a down but reminds me that they are out there.

(3) I can learn from it.  Was it stress outside running.  Not keeping my mind on the task at hand?  Lack of sleep--for one night or many on end?  Was it having fewer people to run with than last time?  So many variables.  Some beyond my control.  All open for consideration.  Identifying which is the biggest issue will help me to avoid the same outcome the next time.

(4) Finally, there may still be redemption.  After an easy mile, a half at 3:13, another mile in the 6:40's, my friend and I ran half with splits of 96/85.  I still had something left.  I know that if I give it my all I can still come through.  And that will be just as important for me to clear things off my plate in the workplace as it is in my running.

So many lessons from a one hour workout.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Only Human

Just a quick follow-up to yesterday's post.  On the occasional day when I come into work saying I overslept (generally meaning I didn't get out running at 5:30), my colleagues will tell me I needed sleep and that I'm only human.  At this point, I think that all of this "what can I actually fit in and it has to be less than I've tried" is one big reminder that I am only human.  Sometimes in business and politics people talk about managing expectations.  They are usually referring to others.  In my case the key person's expectations I have to manage are my own--expectations of what I can actually accomplish.  We could adapt the serenity prayer: May we drive to accomplish the most we can, have the courage to admit what we cannot, and have the wisdom to discern the difference.