So, a recap. This was my fourth Chicago Marathon, and my fifth overall.
The first 8 miles were good. I followed my plan of 4:2 run/walk and that was comfortable, I felt I could keep going just fine. The pace allowed me to eat and drink as I needed to easily, and also gave me a chance to cool down each time I walked. I knew it would get hotter as the day went on so that was important.
And then, suddenly, my left ankle twinged. Loudly. Angrily. The same feeling it had given me six weeks before. Back then that pain wasn't what had stopped me (the foot bruising on my right foot was the ultimate culprit), but I recognized it immediately. I kept going, cautiously, but within a mile things were much worse.
Excruciating, in fact. Make me cry kind of pain. It was clear I wouldn't be able to continue for another 17 miles. I stopped. Hobbled forward. Stopped. Texted The Dude to let him know I was calling it. Just like that, my marathon was over.
Except I wasn't willing to wait at the side of the road, so I kept limping on to the next aid station. Only it didn't come. I kept going, stopping from time to time to rest, rotate my foot, start again. I reached the Gatorade/water area and asked about the aid station only to be told it was past all the drink stands, so I kept going...
And somewhere between the beginning of the water area and the end I realized my foot didn't hurt as much as it had been. In fact, enough so that I didn't look for the aid station and decided to go just a little bit farther.
After all, it felt lame to only be out there for two hours. Could I possibly do 3? Four? Could I get to 10 miles? Eleven? A half? Or even 16 (the length of my longest runs to that point and the place where I'd sometimes had trouble in past marathons)?
And underlying all that, I remembered what an online friend had written me early that morning:
I woke up thinking about you. Today is going to be a very good day because you will be open to possibilities- and I know in my heart that you will be a blessing to someone else on the course today, simply by being YOU.
Well. If Laurie thought I would be a blessing to someone - but I didn't know where, or how, or when - then I needed to stay out there on the course for as long as I possibly could.
I put on a podcast and kept walking.
I was resigned to not finishing - I figured I was going so slowly I would get scooped off the course when they needed to shut it down. But that was okay. That was out of my hands. All I could do was keep walking, and so I did.
At about mile 15 I thought I might try to run a little, walking was getting tiresome. Keeping my feet very low I tried a little shuffle run - and it was okay. So from there I ran a little (shuffled a little), walked some. Shuffled a little, walked some. Made sure I was still taking in enough to eat, to drink, taking my salt tabs.
I had never been so aware of the course as this time and it was glorious. In the past I had remembered some parts of it as being bare. Desolate, even, and I kept looking for that and couldn't find it. All along the way there was something to see, to remark on, to enjoy. I recognized people on the course - passing them, being passed by them - more so than ever before. This was a whole new marathon.
At some point I realized I could probably do it. My God, I'd already endured 10 miserable miles, what was another 8 really? And with each mile it became more and more within my grasp, even the possibility of finishing within the cutoff.
Make no mistake, this was rough. Painful. Tiresome. Hot. (I was doing okay on food, but I spent easily the last eight miles fantasizing about a cold Coke.)
And then it was 20 miles and I thought, okay, this is going to happen. Then 22, 24, and then there was the turn and the rise and the last stretch and I was done. Despite the pain, despite my disbelief.
And in (almost ) all my photos from the course, I am smiling.
Six hours and thirty-six minutes. Over the allotted time, so not an official finisher. But. I have my medal. I know what I did and what it took. And I wouldn't change anything about it.
Yours,
Annie
Showing posts with label gifted by grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gifted by grace. Show all posts
Monday, October 23, 2017
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
There They Are
I heard them before I saw them. Two geese, honking in the cold early hours. The sound came from below me, so I looked over the railing to the river - all darkness, the trees on the shore seeming to melt into the water, except for the steam rising from the surface.
At first I couldn't see them, and then they honked again and I saw the smear of their bellies reflecting bright against the surface of the water, the steam making space as their bodies slipped through, black shadows indistinguishable from the water except where defined by their edges.
And then they slipped under the bridge and I ran on, looking up at the stars and across to the awakening lights of the city.
Breathlessly,
Annie
Thursday, October 13, 2016
Grateful
It was a rough summer.
It was a rough summer, and it's only recently that I feel we've gotten through it, though some things linger on...
Some of it was the usual craziness of scheduling with two kids - and next year we plan to do less of it - and some of it was family drama (not mine) - and that goes on. And other stuff as well.
Oh, and police shootings and coastal floodings and immigrant/Muslim/refugee bashing and heat waves beyond what has been recorded before. Zika in Brazil - no, now Puerto Rico, now Miami. (Oh, and now Haiti is being hit with cholera - yet again.) My head was swimming a lot of the time.
I find it hard to write about the things I sorrow over, or struggle with, or haven't managed to come to a conclusion on, along with all the random scraps of interesting, exciting, curious, even joyous things that come my way. My head is a very busy place, much of the time, and I am always seeking out still more.
I do want to learn how to write (here, not just in poems) about the things that trouble me, or puzzle me, and some of the connections that I find as I range around the world, via other people's words.
But for right now, I want to share with you one of the things that lifts up my heart, day after day: running in the early morning. To see the sky turn from a clear star-dotted black to a soft velvet deep deep blue (I swear the texture of the sky changes in these moments) and then as it goes through various changes as the sun rises, dependent on cloud cover and where I'm headed... it never fails to astonish and enchant me, invigorate and strengthen me. And I get to experience this over and over again. For this I am grateful.
With a deep love for the world and all that is in it,
Annie
It was a rough summer, and it's only recently that I feel we've gotten through it, though some things linger on...
Some of it was the usual craziness of scheduling with two kids - and next year we plan to do less of it - and some of it was family drama (not mine) - and that goes on. And other stuff as well.
Oh, and police shootings and coastal floodings and immigrant/Muslim/refugee bashing and heat waves beyond what has been recorded before. Zika in Brazil - no, now Puerto Rico, now Miami. (Oh, and now Haiti is being hit with cholera - yet again.) My head was swimming a lot of the time.
I find it hard to write about the things I sorrow over, or struggle with, or haven't managed to come to a conclusion on, along with all the random scraps of interesting, exciting, curious, even joyous things that come my way. My head is a very busy place, much of the time, and I am always seeking out still more.
I do want to learn how to write (here, not just in poems) about the things that trouble me, or puzzle me, and some of the connections that I find as I range around the world, via other people's words.
But for right now, I want to share with you one of the things that lifts up my heart, day after day: running in the early morning. To see the sky turn from a clear star-dotted black to a soft velvet deep deep blue (I swear the texture of the sky changes in these moments) and then as it goes through various changes as the sun rises, dependent on cloud cover and where I'm headed... it never fails to astonish and enchant me, invigorate and strengthen me. And I get to experience this over and over again. For this I am grateful.
With a deep love for the world and all that is in it,
Annie
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Another Year at Pitchfork
Pitchfork (an outdoor music festival in Chicago) started out this year as a somewhat frustrating experience for me. We didn't arrange for a sitter soon enough so ended up bringing the kids with us. We'd brought them before and it had been okay, but never for acts we were especially eager to hear. The Dude had already been to two days of Pitchfork so was fine with heading home with them after a couple of hours, leaving me to enjoy the rest of the day by myself, but it still meant that my attention was fragmented for both the Sun Ra Arkestra and Kemasi Washington, the two bands I had most wanted to see.
There's always a moment at these festivals where I am overwhelmed. Not necessarily tired, hungry, or hot, although sometimes these can be contributing factors. Just, overwhelmed. A colleague of mine who is very Myers-Briggs oriented suggested it might be that as an Introvert on the M-B scale I might be getting drained from being around all the people and activity - and it's certainly true that once I have a chance to sit and be with myself (and maybe weep a little if I need to) and assess things, I'm usually good to go again. But I also think it's the need to deal with the difference between my expectations and the reality, and at these festivals there's always a gap. Bands you were excited to see turn out to be meh, or in the wrong setting, or you hate the audience, or you don't even get to see them - while at the same time if you're open to it you can discover/experience something new, different, exciting, expansive that you couldn't have dreamt of finding on your own.
It's always worth it though, these festivals. (I do love Pitchfork the best.) I firmly believe in the power of live performance - theater, dance, and especially for me, music - to act on us in some way. Whether through the sound waves, vibrations, intent of the performers, or the concentrated energy of the audience - I think we are moved in ways both obvious and subtle. I love that. And I think this effect is magnified under the open sky.
The summer before college my family went to the south of France for two weeks. While there, we went to two nighttime open air concerts: Oscar Peterson and the Merce Cunningham dance company. Both in spaces that had once been Roman ruins, both under the moon, both magical. And watching FKA twigs in the final Pitchfork performance of the night, with her mesmerizing dance and vocals, I had the sense of being suspended in a web of time, that moment connecting with those evenings and casting forward to other performances and other evenings I haven't known myself to experience yet. And I write this listening to another performer of the weekend - that I hadn't seen - cover Laurie Anderson's "O Superman", a song I haven't listened to since just after college. And thinking on all these connections makes me think of even more...
Just some of the reverberations continuing on from the show.
Swimming in sound -
Annie
There's always a moment at these festivals where I am overwhelmed. Not necessarily tired, hungry, or hot, although sometimes these can be contributing factors. Just, overwhelmed. A colleague of mine who is very Myers-Briggs oriented suggested it might be that as an Introvert on the M-B scale I might be getting drained from being around all the people and activity - and it's certainly true that once I have a chance to sit and be with myself (and maybe weep a little if I need to) and assess things, I'm usually good to go again. But I also think it's the need to deal with the difference between my expectations and the reality, and at these festivals there's always a gap. Bands you were excited to see turn out to be meh, or in the wrong setting, or you hate the audience, or you don't even get to see them - while at the same time if you're open to it you can discover/experience something new, different, exciting, expansive that you couldn't have dreamt of finding on your own.
It's always worth it though, these festivals. (I do love Pitchfork the best.) I firmly believe in the power of live performance - theater, dance, and especially for me, music - to act on us in some way. Whether through the sound waves, vibrations, intent of the performers, or the concentrated energy of the audience - I think we are moved in ways both obvious and subtle. I love that. And I think this effect is magnified under the open sky.
The summer before college my family went to the south of France for two weeks. While there, we went to two nighttime open air concerts: Oscar Peterson and the Merce Cunningham dance company. Both in spaces that had once been Roman ruins, both under the moon, both magical. And watching FKA twigs in the final Pitchfork performance of the night, with her mesmerizing dance and vocals, I had the sense of being suspended in a web of time, that moment connecting with those evenings and casting forward to other performances and other evenings I haven't known myself to experience yet. And I write this listening to another performer of the weekend - that I hadn't seen - cover Laurie Anderson's "O Superman", a song I haven't listened to since just after college. And thinking on all these connections makes me think of even more...
Just some of the reverberations continuing on from the show.
Swimming in sound -
Annie
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
A Funny Thing Happened On My Way Round The Park
... And now I can't remember what it was.
It's dark when I leave the house for my runs now, and on weekdays it's still dark when I return, though the sky has begun to lighten. I don't wear headphones at these times, and watch the sky to gauge how far into the park I can go. Can I run all the way in, by the river? (Only on weekends, when I can leave the house later.) Can I run on the path that goes more or less parallel to the street? (Only if it's not overcast.) Much of time I content myself with staying on the sidewalk next to the park.
I remember now. When I run without headphones sometimes a song gets stuck in my head and that's what I hear for the duration of the run. Over and over, in an endless loop, just the bits of the song that I know. Yesterday: Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You." Except I don't even know the words, really, just bits and pieces of the music. Over and over for half a mile. It's a good thing I like the song.
Only a couple weeks more of shortening days. By the end of January I should be able to run along the river again. In the meantime I'll cross over the bridge and "settle" for the breathtaking view of the early morning sky reflecting off the river, with the dark trees on either side. I slow down and linger to take it all in.
Early morning blessings to you,
Annie
It's dark when I leave the house for my runs now, and on weekdays it's still dark when I return, though the sky has begun to lighten. I don't wear headphones at these times, and watch the sky to gauge how far into the park I can go. Can I run all the way in, by the river? (Only on weekends, when I can leave the house later.) Can I run on the path that goes more or less parallel to the street? (Only if it's not overcast.) Much of time I content myself with staying on the sidewalk next to the park.
I remember now. When I run without headphones sometimes a song gets stuck in my head and that's what I hear for the duration of the run. Over and over, in an endless loop, just the bits of the song that I know. Yesterday: Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas Is You." Except I don't even know the words, really, just bits and pieces of the music. Over and over for half a mile. It's a good thing I like the song.
Only a couple weeks more of shortening days. By the end of January I should be able to run along the river again. In the meantime I'll cross over the bridge and "settle" for the breathtaking view of the early morning sky reflecting off the river, with the dark trees on either side. I slow down and linger to take it all in.
Early morning blessings to you,
Annie
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
The Day After
We've had rain four days in a row (and will get more later this week) - with torrential rain yesterday, unbelievable amounts of rain, just sheets of water coming from the sky. I got soaked not once but twice and the boys too - the house smells like wet shoe.
But today the air is clear and the sun is out - this morning on my run the whole world felt fresh, with everything green and shimmering. And open: after days of heavy gray everything felt as if it were reaching out. The peach of the sunrise reflecting on a seagull's wings, as it soared above the trees that kept me from the seeing the sunrise itself. Sunlight sparkling on the puddles as I walked G to school. Our pumpkin plants, grown two inches in a night.
And oh yes, the red and black worn by our neighbors on the sidewalks, the bus, the train as people made their way to work without umbrellas or raincoats to cover them. Did I mention that the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup yesterday too? It's been fun seeing people wear their Blackhawks shirts all across the city.
Delightedly,
Annie
But today the air is clear and the sun is out - this morning on my run the whole world felt fresh, with everything green and shimmering. And open: after days of heavy gray everything felt as if it were reaching out. The peach of the sunrise reflecting on a seagull's wings, as it soared above the trees that kept me from the seeing the sunrise itself. Sunlight sparkling on the puddles as I walked G to school. Our pumpkin plants, grown two inches in a night.
And oh yes, the red and black worn by our neighbors on the sidewalks, the bus, the train as people made their way to work without umbrellas or raincoats to cover them. Did I mention that the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup yesterday too? It's been fun seeing people wear their Blackhawks shirts all across the city.
Delightedly,
Annie
Monday, August 18, 2014
On the Track Again
Have I mentioned that everything will be changing soon? Buying a house, changing neighborhoods, our oldest in school? (Have I mentioned that all this is causing me great stress?) And with that all my own personal routines will have to be reinvented as well. Such as, oh, I don't know, WHEN I RUN?!?!?
Gah.
Today I was presented with a foretaste of all that. I needed to enroll Buddy in kindergarten, and the school has limited office hours during the summer. I couldn't take a half day for this due to my work schedule this week, but then that meant I couldn't figure out a way to go running. I meant to go to the gym yesterday and just couldn't get it in - but if I didn't do something today it would be three days of no activity, and that means a seriously unhappy mama.
So what to do? Why, turn to an old solution, one I relied on when Buddy was first born and I was bringing him downtown for daycare. Head out during my lunch hour and run on the track at the park a half mile from work.
What with this, that, and the other at work I didn't get out until mid-afternoon - not ideal for me any day, and not ideal today with the weather (hot and sunny). But I loved it. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy track workouts, and running on this track in particular, how the temperatures and winds and smells change as you go around, in the sun and then next to gardens and then nearer the lake. And how much better a speed workout is on the track than on the treadmill any day. I've had kind of a crummy week thinking about my future with running and with boxing and with any kind of athletics (and I'm having a weird foot pain thing going on so that doesn't help), but getting out on the track today just restored my spirits tremendously. (Made me hungry for more speedwork too.)
And made me very grateful for a renewed sense of possibilities. The changes that are happening in our family life are good ones, great ones, and I know this and am excited for them, but it is also, oh, very hard in the transition time (and in anticipating the transition time). So I will take any small hope I can.
Anything challenging your sense of equilibrium right now? My word of the week has been "unmoored".
Cast adrift and out to sea,
Annie
Gah.
Today I was presented with a foretaste of all that. I needed to enroll Buddy in kindergarten, and the school has limited office hours during the summer. I couldn't take a half day for this due to my work schedule this week, but then that meant I couldn't figure out a way to go running. I meant to go to the gym yesterday and just couldn't get it in - but if I didn't do something today it would be three days of no activity, and that means a seriously unhappy mama.
So what to do? Why, turn to an old solution, one I relied on when Buddy was first born and I was bringing him downtown for daycare. Head out during my lunch hour and run on the track at the park a half mile from work.
What with this, that, and the other at work I didn't get out until mid-afternoon - not ideal for me any day, and not ideal today with the weather (hot and sunny). But I loved it. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy track workouts, and running on this track in particular, how the temperatures and winds and smells change as you go around, in the sun and then next to gardens and then nearer the lake. And how much better a speed workout is on the track than on the treadmill any day. I've had kind of a crummy week thinking about my future with running and with boxing and with any kind of athletics (and I'm having a weird foot pain thing going on so that doesn't help), but getting out on the track today just restored my spirits tremendously. (Made me hungry for more speedwork too.)
And made me very grateful for a renewed sense of possibilities. The changes that are happening in our family life are good ones, great ones, and I know this and am excited for them, but it is also, oh, very hard in the transition time (and in anticipating the transition time). So I will take any small hope I can.
Anything challenging your sense of equilibrium right now? My word of the week has been "unmoored".
Cast adrift and out to sea,
Annie
Friday, April 11, 2014
Things I Think About While Swimming
The pattern of the sunlight on the floor of the pool.
How dirty the floor of the pool really is. Best not to think about that too much.
My form: chest down so my hips rise, reach long but then tuck my arm in close on the downstroke. Keep my head down and my neck relaxed.
People I'm praying for...
...and then others, and then work, and my schedule, and all the random things one thinks about while moving.
Imaginary blog postings that I almost never manage to write.
What the $%*# is this idiot doing, floating in the middle of the medium zone?!
Would it be unspeakably rude to splash water on him?
Ah, better just to swim around. At least there's only four of us in this zone right now.
Back to my form.
Is that a rubber duck on the side of the pool?
Why yes, yes it is. How cool. (And today that duck was joined by a second.)
Wait, what lap am I on?
Back to the sunlight.
At some point I always think about my happiest swimming memory: summer laps in the outdoor Olympic size pool in my Oma's town. The coolth* of the water, the warmth of the sun, occasional breezes, often just me in the pool, back and forth for ages. *This really should be a word.
Oh, coming to the end of lap swim. How many can I still get in?
Last lap: Relax, relax, relax.
And we're done.
How dirty the floor of the pool really is. Best not to think about that too much.
My form: chest down so my hips rise, reach long but then tuck my arm in close on the downstroke. Keep my head down and my neck relaxed.
People I'm praying for...
...and then others, and then work, and my schedule, and all the random things one thinks about while moving.
Imaginary blog postings that I almost never manage to write.
What the $%*# is this idiot doing, floating in the middle of the medium zone?!
Would it be unspeakably rude to splash water on him?
Ah, better just to swim around. At least there's only four of us in this zone right now.
Back to my form.
Is that a rubber duck on the side of the pool?
Why yes, yes it is. How cool. (And today that duck was joined by a second.)
Wait, what lap am I on?
Back to the sunlight.
At some point I always think about my happiest swimming memory: summer laps in the outdoor Olympic size pool in my Oma's town. The coolth* of the water, the warmth of the sun, occasional breezes, often just me in the pool, back and forth for ages. *This really should be a word.
Oh, coming to the end of lap swim. How many can I still get in?
Last lap: Relax, relax, relax.
And we're done.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Evolution of an Injury
First, start with one truly exhausted mama.
It's gotten better in the last week, but for nearly three months I had not been getting more than 6 hours of sleep a night, and that, interrupted.
Next, add in overly ambitious training plans.
After my challenge went so well I continued with my plans to run an ultra in May, suddenly bumping up my overall weekly mileage as well as continuing my regular long runs.
Don't forget to underestimate the effects of running a marathon distance.
With my previous marathons I had "hit the wall" by running out of fuel. This, oddly enough, had the effect of protecting my legs as I was forced to stop and slow down significantly. In last month's challenge I had locked in my nutrition which meant I was able to keep pushing - and even speed up - in the last miles. I truly had not expected, or previously experienced, the fatigue and wear that I had after this run.
And then don't make any accommodations for those effects in the days and weeks following.
All good marathon training plans would have you rest for a least a week and take another two weeks to slowly return to your regular mileage.
Then, right before you have a long run, eat poorly.
I wrestled with Girl Scout cookies and sadly, they won. Not only won, but smacked me down and dragged me all around. And then sat on me.
Oh, and get woken up by a youngster for several hours in the middle of night.
But don't change your plans based on how you're feeling.
No, I was regretting those cookies and made the equally poor decision to "run them off".
And don't change your plans mid-run, no matter how you feel.
Even if you start experiencing shin pain two-thirds of the way through.
Sigh.
******************************************
The verdict is out on what this is. Shin splints? Stress fracture? Inflammation? I've seen my doctor and had an x-ray done, which neither of us expect will tell us anything useful, but has to be done so that insurance will agree to the more useful MRI. We're waiting on the results (or rather, non-results) of that. In the meantime, how to treat it? Rest to the extent that I can. Icing seems to be helping. Waiting on ibuprofen (which would help with inflammation) until we can rule out a stress fracture, since ibuprofen impedes bone healing.
I haven't been taking anything for pain (at least, not since those first two awful days) since I have a pretty high pain tolerance and often just don't think to take anything. And honestly, the pain I do have is useful. Does it hurt when I do this? That? It gives me guidance on what I can do since the other option - not doing anything - goes against every last bit of my being. I mean, I will if I really have to, but if I don't really have to...
I am grateful that both of the races I have already registered for are meaningful to me beyond an opportunity to race. I'll be able to take each of them as they come and enjoy them at whatever state of fitness I'm at. And I want to keep that in mind with all future races.
My mother asked if it bothered me to have to reduce my training. I'm feeling really grateful right now to be able to say no. This is just what is going on right now. I'll swim more than I have been and have switched to more strength training, especially leg exercises so that I don't lose too much there. (Hello, squats!) I see this as an opportunity to start over again, correctly, for the long-term goals I have in mind. And as an opportunity to assess more realistically what some of those goals might be. (No worries, Ali, I still want to run an ultra someday.)
And maybe in the meantime I'll work through my stack of mending and actually get started on my next quilt.
Ever optimistically.
Annie
It's gotten better in the last week, but for nearly three months I had not been getting more than 6 hours of sleep a night, and that, interrupted.
Next, add in overly ambitious training plans.
After my challenge went so well I continued with my plans to run an ultra in May, suddenly bumping up my overall weekly mileage as well as continuing my regular long runs.
Don't forget to underestimate the effects of running a marathon distance.
With my previous marathons I had "hit the wall" by running out of fuel. This, oddly enough, had the effect of protecting my legs as I was forced to stop and slow down significantly. In last month's challenge I had locked in my nutrition which meant I was able to keep pushing - and even speed up - in the last miles. I truly had not expected, or previously experienced, the fatigue and wear that I had after this run.
And then don't make any accommodations for those effects in the days and weeks following.
All good marathon training plans would have you rest for a least a week and take another two weeks to slowly return to your regular mileage.
Then, right before you have a long run, eat poorly.
I wrestled with Girl Scout cookies and sadly, they won. Not only won, but smacked me down and dragged me all around. And then sat on me.
Oh, and get woken up by a youngster for several hours in the middle of night.
But don't change your plans based on how you're feeling.
No, I was regretting those cookies and made the equally poor decision to "run them off".
And don't change your plans mid-run, no matter how you feel.
Even if you start experiencing shin pain two-thirds of the way through.
Sigh.
******************************************
The verdict is out on what this is. Shin splints? Stress fracture? Inflammation? I've seen my doctor and had an x-ray done, which neither of us expect will tell us anything useful, but has to be done so that insurance will agree to the more useful MRI. We're waiting on the results (or rather, non-results) of that. In the meantime, how to treat it? Rest to the extent that I can. Icing seems to be helping. Waiting on ibuprofen (which would help with inflammation) until we can rule out a stress fracture, since ibuprofen impedes bone healing.
I haven't been taking anything for pain (at least, not since those first two awful days) since I have a pretty high pain tolerance and often just don't think to take anything. And honestly, the pain I do have is useful. Does it hurt when I do this? That? It gives me guidance on what I can do since the other option - not doing anything - goes against every last bit of my being. I mean, I will if I really have to, but if I don't really have to...
I am grateful that both of the races I have already registered for are meaningful to me beyond an opportunity to race. I'll be able to take each of them as they come and enjoy them at whatever state of fitness I'm at. And I want to keep that in mind with all future races.
My mother asked if it bothered me to have to reduce my training. I'm feeling really grateful right now to be able to say no. This is just what is going on right now. I'll swim more than I have been and have switched to more strength training, especially leg exercises so that I don't lose too much there. (Hello, squats!) I see this as an opportunity to start over again, correctly, for the long-term goals I have in mind. And as an opportunity to assess more realistically what some of those goals might be. (No worries, Ali, I still want to run an ultra someday.)
And maybe in the meantime I'll work through my stack of mending and actually get started on my next quilt.
Ever optimistically.
Annie
Friday, February 28, 2014
Mission Accomplished!
And I feel grand.
Looking forward to writing about it later this weekend.
But just a quickie...
After mile 20 I started worrying if I was going to hit the wall, as I have in my previous two marathons. I had to really step in with some serious self-talk about how I am so much better prepared for this, I am tougher than I've ever been, I am smarter about these things now, etc. At some point the thought popped into my head,
"Wall? What wall? I piss on the wall!"
And you know what?
I never did hit it.
In fact, my last three miles were my most enjoyable (not fast, I was both battling headwinds and going uphill, but fun), AND I felt like I could have done more.
I am now eating a sandwich from my favorite bagel shop called the "Xena, Warrior Princess" and about to take a hot shower.
Damn, it's a good day.
Looking forward to writing about it later this weekend.
But just a quickie...
After mile 20 I started worrying if I was going to hit the wall, as I have in my previous two marathons. I had to really step in with some serious self-talk about how I am so much better prepared for this, I am tougher than I've ever been, I am smarter about these things now, etc. At some point the thought popped into my head,
"Wall? What wall? I piss on the wall!"
And you know what?
I never did hit it.
In fact, my last three miles were my most enjoyable (not fast, I was both battling headwinds and going uphill, but fun), AND I felt like I could have done more.
I am now eating a sandwich from my favorite bagel shop called the "Xena, Warrior Princess" and about to take a hot shower.
Damn, it's a good day.
Friday, February 21, 2014
I Can Run for Miles and Miles and Miles
Despite my concern about the sidewalks, today had some of the best conditions for running in a while. The temperature dropped enough overnight to freeze a lot of the water (the crazy big puddles turned into slush but it was easier to see and avoid them), and then it was snowing lightly which provided traction! I was worried about the wind when I set out, but still determined to at least try the lakefront path, and it ended up being less windy along there than I thought. There was only a mile of really blustery conditions where I nearly tripped up twice just from the wind blowing me sideways - I felt like those ice skaters who trip on their own feet from not getting the timing right on their jumps. But that was close to the end so I just got off the lakefront at the next opportunity and ran the rest of the way on the inner drive. It was interesting to see just where the wind was worst: on the lakefront it was whenever the trail got close to Lake Shore Drive, and on the inner drive it was when crossing the street, I had to make sure I didn't get blown onto the drive itself.
One unexpected treat was that the path was clear enough that I didn't have to look directly in front of me the whole time, as I've been doing all winter to make sure of my footing. I could look up and around and enjoy the sky (rapidly moving clouds) and the parks (huge frozen ponds), the shoreline (crazy ice formations) and the trees near to me (fat squirrels and red berries!). What a joy.
This week I've run into work twice, once long and once mostly direct (it's about a mile and a half more to run into work along the lakefront vs. taking a street that runs diagonally across the city). I love it, I love it, I love it. I think I'm going to try running in to work every other day.
And in other good news, Goo slept through the night after going down pretty easily! He came out in the morning to tell me "bunny awake mama" (we got a new nightlight that can change pictures from a sleeping bunny to an awake bunny if you set it)... time to now slo-o-owly move that wake-up time a little later in the morning. And as I've been getting more sleep I have again been waking up before him anyway, and can reclaim at least a little of my quiet morning time.
Got a bunch of baking to do for our church's annual South Sudan bake sale/auction - carrot cake and chocolate chip cookies. I imagine some of the cookies will end up staying home with us...
Happily,
Annie
One unexpected treat was that the path was clear enough that I didn't have to look directly in front of me the whole time, as I've been doing all winter to make sure of my footing. I could look up and around and enjoy the sky (rapidly moving clouds) and the parks (huge frozen ponds), the shoreline (crazy ice formations) and the trees near to me (fat squirrels and red berries!). What a joy.
This week I've run into work twice, once long and once mostly direct (it's about a mile and a half more to run into work along the lakefront vs. taking a street that runs diagonally across the city). I love it, I love it, I love it. I think I'm going to try running in to work every other day.
And in other good news, Goo slept through the night after going down pretty easily! He came out in the morning to tell me "bunny awake mama" (we got a new nightlight that can change pictures from a sleeping bunny to an awake bunny if you set it)... time to now slo-o-owly move that wake-up time a little later in the morning. And as I've been getting more sleep I have again been waking up before him anyway, and can reclaim at least a little of my quiet morning time.
Got a bunch of baking to do for our church's annual South Sudan bake sale/auction - carrot cake and chocolate chip cookies. I imagine some of the cookies will end up staying home with us...
Happily,
Annie
Monday, October 14, 2013
The Story
It was a beautiful day.
Everything to the beginning of the race went smoothly.
Standing in the corral I felt like crying, I was so happy to be there and to be doing it.
I had my goals in mind and a plan for executing them. (I will just point out here that this is a racing mind-set for me. My focus at this point was on time.)
And then we started.
It took a long time to warm up, and there were a lot of bottlenecks. Okay, to be expected, no worries. By the end of mile three I was nearing 11:00 miles, slower than my #3 goal time but still with plenty of time to speed up.
(I also want to mention that while I had slept well the last few days and was feeling good, I did not feel any "zip". No hunger. No nerves. This is not actually how you want to feel if you have ambitious time goals in mind.)
We went through downtown. I found myself bothered by the noise - I didn't remember that from the time before, or being bothered by it. I was fully present to experience it, and I didn't like it. (I also didn't like two slogans that I got to see over and over again - "Worst parade ever" - and - "If this were easy it would be called 'your mom'". Grrr.)
Another drawback to the noise: I couldn't hear the beeps of my watch to alert me to my walk breaks. So I was keeping numbers in my head and checking my watch frequently. First, for the time of my next walk break, and second, to see if I was on pace for that mile. Not much fun, that. It also meant I wasn't really taking my walk breaks as I had planned...
I went through the zoo and up north, then turned into Boystown, renowned for their spectator entertainment. Looking at people, their outfits, the signs on the sidelines, the funny stuff. And so impressed with how many people were running "for" someone or something. I had raised money for Chicago Lights, the nonprofit arm of the church I work for, but I wasn't really running for them. Trying to accelerate to 10:50 miles and not able to do it consistently, mostly because of the crowd. I'd get going faster and then find myself in another bottleneck. Or have to slow down because of all the trash on the street after an aid station. I found myself watching my feet more than the people, or more than I'd wanted to, at least.
After mile 7 I was also watching for toilet facilities without lines. I knew from last time that I wouldn't find that for some time in. I was doing okay - no urgent need to pee - but also knew that I'd be more comfortable if I could use the facilities, and also that I'd then be able to stop thinking about it (since I probably wouldn't need to go again before the end). At mile 8 I thought I saw one and moved over, only to realize that there were lines after all. Well, I was stopped, might as well suck it up and deal with it, right? Then after waiting for a while this guy told us, "The toilets on the other side have no lines." I dashed over, and... bullshit. The lines were worse than before. I was on the street again so decided to just keep going. Mile 9 came and there were toilets again - with lines - and I just decided to hell with it. I stopped, chose a line... and waited. And waited. While the other lines moved. And then I waited some more.
At this point I had my first breakthrough. I was not going to meet my goal #3. There was no way I could make up the time lost over the remaining miles. I had to let go. I didn't want to spend this marathon like my first one, worrying, fretting about how fast I was going and whether I'd meet my goals and completely in my head and in pain and miserable. I decided to stop tracking my pace, to make sure I took every walk break, and to enjoy myself as I went along.
And so I did.
To be honest, I still kept vague track of my pace, along the lines of "what's my 1/2 marathon split?" and "how long did it take me to run miles 15-20?", all in service of the larger questions, "can I finish under 4:50?" (unlikely) and "can I finish under 5 hours?" (hopefully). But I really didn't focus on it the way I had at first. I enjoyed the sunshine. I slapped hands with small children. I smiled. I felt myself slowing down as I entered the last 6 miles and I didn't worry about it.
(Although at this point I did start saying to myself, well, with X miles to go, if I maintain an 11:00 pace, I can finish under 5:00 with time to spare - and also noticed that window of time was shrinking with each mile. At this point I put my music on in the hopes of giving myself a little boost. I didn't mind not hitting my #3 and #2 goals, but I did really want to finish under 5 hours.)
But again, no worries. I enjoyed my music yet turned it off when I passed a cheer zone. The number of spectators was growing again and the energy was high. I looked around at all of us and I was so proud of us all. We had come so far. We were going to finish. We were amazing. The volunteers were amazing. The spectators - and the marching bands and the drill teams and the dancers and the people handing out candy and oranges and pretzels (which I should have taken and didn't) - were all amazing. The city and all that goes into an event like this - was amazing. This wasn't about me, it had nothing to do with me, it was about all of us and what an amazing thing life is and celebrating that life.
Of course I was hurting. That goes without saying. Every time I stopped it was harder to start again and when I did I was slower than before. But then I got moving and it went smoother and I still had moments where I felt good and buoyant, even. And grateful. Oh, so grateful.
And then, at mile 23, I hit The Wall. I started running again after a walk break and found I could not run. And I stopped. And walked.
And had a moment of panic, "I can't run, what do I do?"
And then a good song came on my iPod and I thought, well, now I walk. And walk with pride. And with a smile. And with purpose and energy and love for everyone around me.
And I did. I turned off my watch (wasn't going to make 5 hours now) and waved at the people who were waving and chatted with a pregnant lady I came up to. And then after nearly a mile of this I thought, well, my feet hurt, and this is going to take a really long time if I walk the rest of the way, so I started running again, slowly, stopping when I needed to but always starting up again, watching my shadow to see that my form was still good, if slow, and thinking, maybe I can even run the rest of the way in. Maybe I can even run a little faster that last mile.
And then I entered the last half mile, and the pain struck. Sharp. On the right side of my right knee. Oh! I had to stop. I walked a little, then gingerly started again. Ran another 100 meters and it hit again. Okay. Breathe deep. This is how it's going to be. Go slow. Walk if you have to. And then the hill and the signs: 400 meters... 300 meters... Still running, so slowly, not wanting to stop. 200 meters... 100 meters... and the finish line is right there and I am crossing it running so help me God.
And I did.
And I was never before so grateful for the volunteers at the end. And the sunshine. And the heat blanket and the medal and the volunteer with the tape to hold the heat blanket together. And beer. (Though that didn't sit well so I gave that up.) And then the refreshment box from Mariano's and the ease of gear check and sitting on the ground, on my blanket, in the sun, slowly changing my socks and shoes and getting into warm clothes and eating the food from the box and drinking my very own sports drink I'd brought with me. And reading the text messages The Dude had started sending to me once my pace started slowing. And then walking to the Brown Line and getting a seat and riding home in the sun, talking to my parents who'd been keeping track the whole time via Facebook, which is how The Dude knew I was slowing. And then coming home.
And all so happy and proud of me and of my city and of the day. My epic adventure.
Everything to the beginning of the race went smoothly.
Standing in the corral I felt like crying, I was so happy to be there and to be doing it.
I had my goals in mind and a plan for executing them. (I will just point out here that this is a racing mind-set for me. My focus at this point was on time.)
And then we started.
It took a long time to warm up, and there were a lot of bottlenecks. Okay, to be expected, no worries. By the end of mile three I was nearing 11:00 miles, slower than my #3 goal time but still with plenty of time to speed up.
(I also want to mention that while I had slept well the last few days and was feeling good, I did not feel any "zip". No hunger. No nerves. This is not actually how you want to feel if you have ambitious time goals in mind.)
We went through downtown. I found myself bothered by the noise - I didn't remember that from the time before, or being bothered by it. I was fully present to experience it, and I didn't like it. (I also didn't like two slogans that I got to see over and over again - "Worst parade ever" - and - "If this were easy it would be called 'your mom'". Grrr.)
Another drawback to the noise: I couldn't hear the beeps of my watch to alert me to my walk breaks. So I was keeping numbers in my head and checking my watch frequently. First, for the time of my next walk break, and second, to see if I was on pace for that mile. Not much fun, that. It also meant I wasn't really taking my walk breaks as I had planned...
I went through the zoo and up north, then turned into Boystown, renowned for their spectator entertainment. Looking at people, their outfits, the signs on the sidelines, the funny stuff. And so impressed with how many people were running "for" someone or something. I had raised money for Chicago Lights, the nonprofit arm of the church I work for, but I wasn't really running for them. Trying to accelerate to 10:50 miles and not able to do it consistently, mostly because of the crowd. I'd get going faster and then find myself in another bottleneck. Or have to slow down because of all the trash on the street after an aid station. I found myself watching my feet more than the people, or more than I'd wanted to, at least.
After mile 7 I was also watching for toilet facilities without lines. I knew from last time that I wouldn't find that for some time in. I was doing okay - no urgent need to pee - but also knew that I'd be more comfortable if I could use the facilities, and also that I'd then be able to stop thinking about it (since I probably wouldn't need to go again before the end). At mile 8 I thought I saw one and moved over, only to realize that there were lines after all. Well, I was stopped, might as well suck it up and deal with it, right? Then after waiting for a while this guy told us, "The toilets on the other side have no lines." I dashed over, and... bullshit. The lines were worse than before. I was on the street again so decided to just keep going. Mile 9 came and there were toilets again - with lines - and I just decided to hell with it. I stopped, chose a line... and waited. And waited. While the other lines moved. And then I waited some more.
At this point I had my first breakthrough. I was not going to meet my goal #3. There was no way I could make up the time lost over the remaining miles. I had to let go. I didn't want to spend this marathon like my first one, worrying, fretting about how fast I was going and whether I'd meet my goals and completely in my head and in pain and miserable. I decided to stop tracking my pace, to make sure I took every walk break, and to enjoy myself as I went along.
And so I did.
To be honest, I still kept vague track of my pace, along the lines of "what's my 1/2 marathon split?" and "how long did it take me to run miles 15-20?", all in service of the larger questions, "can I finish under 4:50?" (unlikely) and "can I finish under 5 hours?" (hopefully). But I really didn't focus on it the way I had at first. I enjoyed the sunshine. I slapped hands with small children. I smiled. I felt myself slowing down as I entered the last 6 miles and I didn't worry about it.
(Although at this point I did start saying to myself, well, with X miles to go, if I maintain an 11:00 pace, I can finish under 5:00 with time to spare - and also noticed that window of time was shrinking with each mile. At this point I put my music on in the hopes of giving myself a little boost. I didn't mind not hitting my #3 and #2 goals, but I did really want to finish under 5 hours.)
But again, no worries. I enjoyed my music yet turned it off when I passed a cheer zone. The number of spectators was growing again and the energy was high. I looked around at all of us and I was so proud of us all. We had come so far. We were going to finish. We were amazing. The volunteers were amazing. The spectators - and the marching bands and the drill teams and the dancers and the people handing out candy and oranges and pretzels (which I should have taken and didn't) - were all amazing. The city and all that goes into an event like this - was amazing. This wasn't about me, it had nothing to do with me, it was about all of us and what an amazing thing life is and celebrating that life.
Of course I was hurting. That goes without saying. Every time I stopped it was harder to start again and when I did I was slower than before. But then I got moving and it went smoother and I still had moments where I felt good and buoyant, even. And grateful. Oh, so grateful.
And then, at mile 23, I hit The Wall. I started running again after a walk break and found I could not run. And I stopped. And walked.
And had a moment of panic, "I can't run, what do I do?"
And then a good song came on my iPod and I thought, well, now I walk. And walk with pride. And with a smile. And with purpose and energy and love for everyone around me.
And I did. I turned off my watch (wasn't going to make 5 hours now) and waved at the people who were waving and chatted with a pregnant lady I came up to. And then after nearly a mile of this I thought, well, my feet hurt, and this is going to take a really long time if I walk the rest of the way, so I started running again, slowly, stopping when I needed to but always starting up again, watching my shadow to see that my form was still good, if slow, and thinking, maybe I can even run the rest of the way in. Maybe I can even run a little faster that last mile.
And then I entered the last half mile, and the pain struck. Sharp. On the right side of my right knee. Oh! I had to stop. I walked a little, then gingerly started again. Ran another 100 meters and it hit again. Okay. Breathe deep. This is how it's going to be. Go slow. Walk if you have to. And then the hill and the signs: 400 meters... 300 meters... Still running, so slowly, not wanting to stop. 200 meters... 100 meters... and the finish line is right there and I am crossing it running so help me God.
And I did.
And I was never before so grateful for the volunteers at the end. And the sunshine. And the heat blanket and the medal and the volunteer with the tape to hold the heat blanket together. And beer. (Though that didn't sit well so I gave that up.) And then the refreshment box from Mariano's and the ease of gear check and sitting on the ground, on my blanket, in the sun, slowly changing my socks and shoes and getting into warm clothes and eating the food from the box and drinking my very own sports drink I'd brought with me. And reading the text messages The Dude had started sending to me once my pace started slowing. And then walking to the Brown Line and getting a seat and riding home in the sun, talking to my parents who'd been keeping track the whole time via Facebook, which is how The Dude knew I was slowing. And then coming home.
And all so happy and proud of me and of my city and of the day. My epic adventure.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
That Half (Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken)
Getting the recap out of the way, 'cause it's a crazy week and I want to move on to other things.
Good news: I had a good strategy and executed it well.
Bad news: The course/event was poorly organized and in the end I don't trust the results. (Won't go into a lot of details but I think the course was short based on my Garmin and the reports of others around me. Or if not short then something went wrong with all the turns out there. Plus lots of other little things.)
Lesson learned: Stick to events I know will be well organized (Fleet Feet or the major Chicago races or word of mouth) or if I'm doing it just for fun.
It was a beautiful day. It was close enough to walk to so by the time I got there I was completely warmed up and ready to go. I took the first third conservatively, eased up to goal pace for the middle third, and then went faster in the last third, especially in the last mile and again in the last quarter mile. I felt good but definitely left it all on the course, which also felt good. Their results aside, I shaved at least a couple of minutes off my previous half. I used my race vest with bladder and felt like I was getting adequate nutrition/hydration throughout. My plan of walk breaks every mile seemed to help with the heat - I definitely got hot but never felt close to overheating, and was able to skip a couple of the walk breaks towards the end.
I wanted to report on something I experienced at the end of the race, in the last third. I worked those first nine miles, I felt very conscious of the effort I was putting out there to move up to pace and then try to stay at pace. And of wanting to slow down and not doing it. (Except mile 8, I seem to always slow down in mile 8. Plus I needed to retie my shoes, which I never need to do. Three times to get it right!)
And then I hit the ninth mile and started to fly. It just felt... effortless. Beautiful. Heavenly. Wow.
Very grateful.
I walked the two miles home which meant a total of 17 miles on my feet that morning, which makes me just that little more confident about the marathon now only 8 1/2 weeks away. But only a little bit. Mostly I think, am I crazy? Or wish that I could properly race it instead of enduring it, but I'm not that good and am not willing to put in the effort to become that good, I've got other things I'm working on.
So why do another marathon?
I guess, as someone in my online running group wrote, for the adventure of it.
And maybe, just maybe, another taste of that wow.
Good news: I had a good strategy and executed it well.
Bad news: The course/event was poorly organized and in the end I don't trust the results. (Won't go into a lot of details but I think the course was short based on my Garmin and the reports of others around me. Or if not short then something went wrong with all the turns out there. Plus lots of other little things.)
Lesson learned: Stick to events I know will be well organized (Fleet Feet or the major Chicago races or word of mouth) or if I'm doing it just for fun.
It was a beautiful day. It was close enough to walk to so by the time I got there I was completely warmed up and ready to go. I took the first third conservatively, eased up to goal pace for the middle third, and then went faster in the last third, especially in the last mile and again in the last quarter mile. I felt good but definitely left it all on the course, which also felt good. Their results aside, I shaved at least a couple of minutes off my previous half. I used my race vest with bladder and felt like I was getting adequate nutrition/hydration throughout. My plan of walk breaks every mile seemed to help with the heat - I definitely got hot but never felt close to overheating, and was able to skip a couple of the walk breaks towards the end.
I wanted to report on something I experienced at the end of the race, in the last third. I worked those first nine miles, I felt very conscious of the effort I was putting out there to move up to pace and then try to stay at pace. And of wanting to slow down and not doing it. (Except mile 8, I seem to always slow down in mile 8. Plus I needed to retie my shoes, which I never need to do. Three times to get it right!)
And then I hit the ninth mile and started to fly. It just felt... effortless. Beautiful. Heavenly. Wow.
Very grateful.
I walked the two miles home which meant a total of 17 miles on my feet that morning, which makes me just that little more confident about the marathon now only 8 1/2 weeks away. But only a little bit. Mostly I think, am I crazy? Or wish that I could properly race it instead of enduring it, but I'm not that good and am not willing to put in the effort to become that good, I've got other things I'm working on.
So why do another marathon?
I guess, as someone in my online running group wrote, for the adventure of it.
And maybe, just maybe, another taste of that wow.
Monday, October 8, 2012
My Chicago Marathon Sunday (No, I Didn't Run)
This year, I observed the Chicago Marathon by:
*Shorthand for "I am well aware that I am not really poor by any standards but I do not currently have much discretionary income in general, and none at all this month.
- Cheering on my husband as he went for his long run before church;
- Making french toast for breakfast in honor of my friend B, who was running;
- Baking apple pie and cornbread (The Dude made chili) in honor of our anniversary and because I am too poor* right now to buy The Dude a nice present;
- Deciding not to do my long run so that we could have a more relaxed day at home with the kids (who knew it took so long to make apple pie?);
- Watching a scary movie and drinking good beer;
- Dreaming about running it next year!
*Shorthand for "I am well aware that I am not really poor by any standards but I do not currently have much discretionary income in general, and none at all this month.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Beautiful Day
Oh, it was a beautiful day for a run today. Bright, clear, about 65F. I went along an old friend of a route, one that had been my favorite before getting pregnant, and it was so nice to run it again. Hello,old friend. A mix of homes, park, quiet business districts, with gentle hills (plus one hard one to make you feel like you've done something). I took it easy, and steady, stopping only for traffic, and then when my legs still felt fresh quietly moved up the pace for the last mile and a half.
I always try to look around and really see things on my runs --- a friend of mine suggests looking for three new things each day. I've run this route so many times I don't always see new things, but today... ducks! Two mallards snuggled into the grass next to the path. And they made me think of my morning with Buddy, since we'd been talking about waterfowl on the way to school. So an extra little treat as I went about my run.
I noticed my IT band twinging a little as I ran so when I got home I made a point of doing my IT routine. Oh, I have lost so much strength in all those little stabilizing muscles! But now at least I know and can start addressing those weaknesses, before I have gotten myself and my muscle memory set into bad habits for the season.
I am so happy to be getting stronger.
I always try to look around and really see things on my runs --- a friend of mine suggests looking for three new things each day. I've run this route so many times I don't always see new things, but today... ducks! Two mallards snuggled into the grass next to the path. And they made me think of my morning with Buddy, since we'd been talking about waterfowl on the way to school. So an extra little treat as I went about my run.
I noticed my IT band twinging a little as I ran so when I got home I made a point of doing my IT routine. Oh, I have lost so much strength in all those little stabilizing muscles! But now at least I know and can start addressing those weaknesses, before I have gotten myself and my muscle memory set into bad habits for the season.
I am so happy to be getting stronger.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Some Questions I Have Been Pondering
One of the most influential books I have read this year (or started, rather, I haven't finished it yet) is Mark Labberton's "The Dangerous Act of Loving Your Neighbor: Seeing Others Through the Eyes of Jesus". I've been working my way through it since shortly before Lent as a way of grounding and strengthening my commitment to address child abuse and related injustice, particularly the more brutal aspects of it, since I was finding that it was very easy to want to close my eyes again, and I didn't want to do that.
The book is set up as a series of short essays and reflective questions around the themes of paying attention, seeing, naming, and acting. It's slow going on my part, but it's definitely been illuminating. Here are some of the questions that I've found particularly meaningful.
I expect it will take me the rest of the year to work my way through this book but I am grateful to have found it.
The book is set up as a series of short essays and reflective questions around the themes of paying attention, seeing, naming, and acting. It's slow going on my part, but it's definitely been illuminating. Here are some of the questions that I've found particularly meaningful.
How does your life's momentum affect your capacity for empathy: entering into the lives and needs of others, especially those who have no tie or evident benefit to you? Notice today or this week the time and energy you devote to engage with the needs of others. What does empathy cost you? (p. 46)
What moments or circumstances expose your distance, fear, rejection, anger, prejudice, or dislike of "they"? Why do these responses seem natural and justified? What experiences or voices in your life have contributed to that? (p. 51)
Do you invest energy daily in avoiding problems or pain? What does this lead you to see in your heart? Who is someone you know who does a good job of stepping towards the needs of others? (p. 53)
Sight is how you see. Vision is how you see and your interpretation of what you see. What factors most significantly affect your vision of people around you? Of people in need? Of global suffering? Of individuals who are victims or violence and oppression? (p. 78)
I expect it will take me the rest of the year to work my way through this book but I am grateful to have found it.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Mother's Day
I couldn't get to the computer yesterday, but wanted still to send my prayers out to all mothers who struggle to mother:
in poverty
in war
with violence at home
with addiction / mental illness / health concerns - their own or their children's
in isolation
with conflicting ideas of what it means to be a mother
and to all the children whose mothers aren't able to mother them as well as all children should be mothered,
and to all people who step in to mother when mothers can not.
I am so blessed as a mother --- my cup runneth over.
in poverty
in war
with violence at home
with addiction / mental illness / health concerns - their own or their children's
in isolation
with conflicting ideas of what it means to be a mother
and to all the children whose mothers aren't able to mother them as well as all children should be mothered,
and to all people who step in to mother when mothers can not.
I am so blessed as a mother --- my cup runneth over.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Notes on a Busy Week
Hmmm... where to start since I need to keep this short?
Thanksgiving was wonderful, and in fact all of Thanksgiving weekend was wonderful. Marvelous to have Pete's family come visit, superlative to have so much time with Buddy and The Dude, and lovely to have so much yummy yummy food. (Especially the pecan pie. I love pecan pie.)
Work is busy (surprise, surprise), but okay.
My "To Make For Christmas" to-do list has far more entries than days available, but I am oddly calm about it (right now) and enjoying every opportunity to work on them.
I had three decent workouts last week and have hopes of two this week. My IT band is not getting worse. I have decided not to stress about how much I am working out or not until the new year starts.
I have the opportunity this week to visit with a friend I have not seen in over twenty years and am grateful for that as well.
I cannot explain my calm right now other than to say I have either gotten the Christmas spirit, or some good sleep over the holiday weekend. Either way, I am grateful. I do know I am most grateful that Buddy took a nap every day over the long weekend, a gift I was not expecting.
Hope this finds all well. I doubt I will be writing much over the next few weeks.
Thanksgiving was wonderful, and in fact all of Thanksgiving weekend was wonderful. Marvelous to have Pete's family come visit, superlative to have so much time with Buddy and The Dude, and lovely to have so much yummy yummy food. (Especially the pecan pie. I love pecan pie.)
Work is busy (surprise, surprise), but okay.
My "To Make For Christmas" to-do list has far more entries than days available, but I am oddly calm about it (right now) and enjoying every opportunity to work on them.
I had three decent workouts last week and have hopes of two this week. My IT band is not getting worse. I have decided not to stress about how much I am working out or not until the new year starts.
I have the opportunity this week to visit with a friend I have not seen in over twenty years and am grateful for that as well.
I cannot explain my calm right now other than to say I have either gotten the Christmas spirit, or some good sleep over the holiday weekend. Either way, I am grateful. I do know I am most grateful that Buddy took a nap every day over the long weekend, a gift I was not expecting.
Hope this finds all well. I doubt I will be writing much over the next few weeks.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Notes on a Low Week
I think I'll start with the positive stuff from last week, since otherwise I will probably just wallow.
The house is clean and (mostly) ready for visitors.
I got in two good workouts last week, through a combination of walking and the ergometer.
While still twingy, my ITB is not disabling, as evidenced by my ability to run (without pain) after a certain imp.
I got some good work done on my Christmas presents and really enjoyed doing so.
The bug that was threatening to fell me last week has retreated to "tolerable" status.
Work, while stressful, is still on the right side of manageable.
I am enjoying reading a couple of art books that I would not have read six weeks ago, before I decided to succumb to my artsy/crafty self.
And everyone in this household and among my closest loved ones is well and in decent health.
Okay, good enough! No need to make a similar catalog of my blues. I'll just go listen to a bunch of country music instead.
The house is clean and (mostly) ready for visitors.
I got in two good workouts last week, through a combination of walking and the ergometer.
While still twingy, my ITB is not disabling, as evidenced by my ability to run (without pain) after a certain imp.
I got some good work done on my Christmas presents and really enjoyed doing so.
The bug that was threatening to fell me last week has retreated to "tolerable" status.
Work, while stressful, is still on the right side of manageable.
I am enjoying reading a couple of art books that I would not have read six weeks ago, before I decided to succumb to my artsy/crafty self.
And everyone in this household and among my closest loved ones is well and in decent health.
Okay, good enough! No need to make a similar catalog of my blues. I'll just go listen to a bunch of country music instead.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Notes on a Friend-Full Week
This week was both exhausting and a delight. The delights included having lunch with one good friend and then a post-Buddy-bedtime dessert outing with another. (We meant to have wine but the desserts just called louder!) Then in the next couple of weeks I have a coffee date planned, plus another lunch, plus who knows what might pop up. Oh yes, and I had breakfast with another friend last week and we'll probably manage to get together before Thanksgiving as well.
I mention this because it really wasn't that long ago that I was bemoaning my lack of regular friendtime. One close friend moved to New England, one moved to Evanston, and all around it seemed that I didn't have any close friends nearby (insert dramatic sigh here) and I was all alone (really big sigh here). But really what happened was that changes in my life (ahem, Buddy) and changes in my friends' lives meant that the patterns we had got disrupted, and I hadn't yet built any new ones up.
Today I look around and feel rich in friendships again --- some new, some strengthened, some transformed --- and I am very grateful. Grateful, and also aware that this would not have happened without my attention and care and making friend time more of a priority again.
Monday: Ran 8 miles, yoga. Meant these to be "easy" miles but ended up more like a tempo run.
Tuesday: Yoga, swam 27 laps.
Wednesday: Rest day, went into work early.
Thursday: Nine miles at the track, 4 mile-repeats. Last speed workout before the Hot Chocolate 15k on 11/7 and I'm feeling strong. Yoga.
Friday: Yoga, swam 27 laps.
Saturday: Slept in, so no yoga in the morning, than Buddy didn't nap, so no yoga in the afternoon. Decided to see the whole day as an opportunity for spiritual practice --- breathe, baby, breathe.
Sunday: Ran 6 miles in the wrong shoes, not much fun. And then Buddy didn't nap again. Kind of frazzled by weekend's end. I'm taking that as my excuse for all the candy consumed today. Evidently sugar won out over mindfulness. Happens sometimes.
I mention this because it really wasn't that long ago that I was bemoaning my lack of regular friendtime. One close friend moved to New England, one moved to Evanston, and all around it seemed that I didn't have any close friends nearby (insert dramatic sigh here) and I was all alone (really big sigh here). But really what happened was that changes in my life (ahem, Buddy) and changes in my friends' lives meant that the patterns we had got disrupted, and I hadn't yet built any new ones up.
Today I look around and feel rich in friendships again --- some new, some strengthened, some transformed --- and I am very grateful. Grateful, and also aware that this would not have happened without my attention and care and making friend time more of a priority again.
Monday: Ran 8 miles, yoga. Meant these to be "easy" miles but ended up more like a tempo run.
Tuesday: Yoga, swam 27 laps.
Wednesday: Rest day, went into work early.
Thursday: Nine miles at the track, 4 mile-repeats. Last speed workout before the Hot Chocolate 15k on 11/7 and I'm feeling strong. Yoga.
Friday: Yoga, swam 27 laps.
Saturday: Slept in, so no yoga in the morning, than Buddy didn't nap, so no yoga in the afternoon. Decided to see the whole day as an opportunity for spiritual practice --- breathe, baby, breathe.
Sunday: Ran 6 miles in the wrong shoes, not much fun. And then Buddy didn't nap again. Kind of frazzled by weekend's end. I'm taking that as my excuse for all the candy consumed today. Evidently sugar won out over mindfulness. Happens sometimes.
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