Road running

Living life fully doesn't mean having it all, going everywhere, doing everything, and being all things to all people. Many of us are beginning to see that too much is too much. Elaine St. James

Wow, what a quote I received today for my daily mediation! Sometimes it just really comes timely. Not as a ligh bulb, but as a confirmation of my own thoughts.

My co-worker (and supervisor of sorts) had brought up a conversation of what age do we think was best so far to live at. I, without a moment of hesitation, had responded "past 40". Funny how life is. I really wasn't looking forward to turn 30 when was closing in on it, but since somewhere around 37 I was answering to anybody who asked that I am 40 (or "almost so"). And as soon as the number finally arrived - I couldn't be happier. Why is that? Because I am still extremely young and capable of doing every single thing on my desire list, has more desires than ever before - yet I am much wiser and calmer and accepting things better, and plan on goals that matter, and care about opinions that truly matter. And because I finally don't have to say "when I'll be at that point..." - because I am already at it. It's time to live life fully!

This is a philosophical sidetracking:) I've been road-running lately, and scary to admit, I've been loving it. I had looked at my logs - hand-written running logs, may I add, that I kept ever since the idea of diving into running as a main form of physical exercise hit me on the year following my first 5k - and figured that my best running was when quality outdid quantity, when cross-training was equal miles done running, which left those miles being fast and hard effort, and when yoga was a present if not daily, then at least every other day. Of course, there were a couple of years when I managed to "squeeze it all", and be good, and all...but I was riding the wave, and I also had left behind some important life staples for the sake of being as good of a runner as I could see myself (without actually dropping my job and family all-together completely). And this is not working out that well for me...

So, back to road-running. With winter short days and commitments that take up all of those light hours (and often some), I can't venture to trails in Austin, which are rather technical and which running in a dark in a hurry can potentially produce an injury and simply take more time (leaving even less time to sleep, and I am already functioning on a too-long lasting sleep-deprivation). Thus I run roads. And I couldn't' be more satisfied with a place we live. NW of Austin provides more hills on the roads than I ever encountered on a road run, ever, in my life. Last Saturday's longish outing gave me such an elated feeling about running every step of those hills, picking my way around in a dark, learning new streets, getting lost, and still shuffling every step up that hill...when in doubt, go up, I told myself. I'd crest the hill, and look around. At first I'd greet the city lights flickering in a dark of the night, then a few hills later I'd catch a glimpse of grey mixed up with dark pink, then the grey got wider, and the pink is not so bright...oh, the changes on color, above the sea of green hills - how wonderful that this city kept all the green even as it grew into suburbs of the Hill Country, and all the houses somehow manage to hide inside that ocean of lush green (that even in places shows the color turn into fall's yellows and reds)! Then, finally, while you are getting more tired, you somehow miss that moment of the rising of the sun itself - and as you huff your way up yet another hill, you can suddenly see every detail. And it's beautiful. And it gives you strength, or at least a will power to keep cresting, to keep searching another hill, to keep plugging along...And then, as you turn into the last mile, that is flat, you realize that your quads are busted, and for some weird reason the feet don't turn as fast, and the stride is rather shortened tremendously, and while you think you are doing the best you can, a grandma and grandpa, a couple in their mid-60's with a head full of grey, in their tight shorts and white long-sleeve shirts with a bunch of logos from some race, pass you as you are not moving...and you smile as you exchange "good morning", because life is good if there are folks who should be retired and sitting home in front of a TV, yet they are here, on this crisp morning, blasting by you without even breathing hard. And you think - this is why I am at it. Not for a delusional race result, or getting faster, or skinnier (a goal long abandoned in these particular words), but for a reason to keep moving, so that when I am 60, and 70, and 80, I can grab my darling and we will stride on the street past some younger straggler, than we pick up our backpacks and head out into the mountains, and then we strap our skis and cross the valley full of freshly fallen snow...and all is good in this life, and all is right.

But in a meantime, I am seeing benefits that are more immediate. The track workouts are paying off, and now that there are more groups are showing up on the same morning at the same track, it gets so exciting to push! Heck, I hung up with Paul T. for a full 400m...only to realize he was on his recovery lap! Well, at least because of that my mile repeats turn out to be on a faster pace than my 800m ones - does it mean I am still a long distance runner, even if on the track? Made me laugh. Lots of friends, all faster, all motivating. Reminds me of my NYC running, of the beginning of it all...the true way of training.

And then, when you get on a trail once a week, you appreciate it all that much more. And only when you get on the trail do the ideas of racing seasons ahead start popping on your head and form into something clear. This year I'll finish what I started, but then next year...and the following one...oh, how much there are still places to visit and explore! And still so many other competitions to try your "arm and leg" at! Different, not running, but not any less fun. And being a beginner is something that makes you humble - and humble is what makes you real. And all of it is wrapped up into the same thing - enjoy. Live your life fully. Whatever it means for you.


In a meantime, the tree is up. The Christmas Tree! It's a Holiday Season, and a spirit of celebration. Few more days, packed with so much to do. And then I am on my way home...

"To find the balance you want, this is what you must become. You must keep your feet grounded so firmly on the earth that it's like you have four legs, instead of two. That way, you can stay in the world. But you must stop looking at the world through your head. You must look through your heart, instead." (E. Gilbert, "Eat. Pray. Love")

Bad races, no races, life

Never bear more than one kind of trouble at a time. Some people bear three--all they have had, all they have now, and all they expect to have.
Edward Everett Hale

Another day gone by, another ultra lottery missed Larry and my name to be drawn. To tell you the truth, it was a relief not to get to MMT 100, and looks like I won't be even close to bother with wait list. I contemplated with SD 100 (application to come in February), and with Bighorn 100...but decided against even thinking about it. I haven't even blink when the time to apply for WS100 came - and passed. Surely not that one.

Crazy ultrarunning world. I signed up for my first 100 miler with a six weeks to go. Well, OK, I apply and got in to WS100 shortly after I ran my first 50 miler, but the 100 I ran first was like that - figured I need an experience, found one, mailed in, came, ran, left straight after finish. Look at us now. We submit our letters, or type our names on the websites with shaking hands, more than 6 months away, we pay some insane amount of money, we wait, we get disappointed, sometimes we get thrilled - and then get injured, life gets in a way, money is tight, kids, spouses, work, school...

I don't like to repeat races, for the most part. I especially don't like to repeat races I had good times at. Like, good races. Sometimes those are the ones I was strong in, ran well, posted results I could be proud of. Sometimes they are those I met friends at, we hung out together, estimating ahead of time it will not be a competitive event, and we laughed, took photos, and encouraged others. Sometimes they are the ones the results are kind of wished to be better...but I never gave up. What brings me to what bad races are for me - those I gave up in, and not only that, but with a huge aggravated feeling on top of it. Like I am pissed off, wish it wasn't happening, I wasn't there, never started, better DNF'ed, and as the end nears, it doesn't let off. I didn't have many of those, but Wasatch and last Western come to mind. I still wish I had a different attitude...but we can't turn back. May be that's why I DNF'ed Tahoe past summer. I surely didn't want to have that heavy disappointment - or to be mean to those around me just because I am still overcoming being pissed off.

I don't like to repeat good races either, and even though there are more than not of those I could have gotten better time results, the feeling I had was extremely pleasant and happy and joyful - and I want to remember that. I think I am afraid to stumble upon the grumpy self, even if it only happened couple of times.

That said, I decided against the 50k this weekend. It's not my distance, I am not in shape to race, and even though I can get through 30 mile run at any given moment, I am not interested to do it in a race setting. Why bother? Besides, I won't be joining crazy crowds at Rocky 50M either, so no need to put any long runs now.

There IS a need to focus on other aspects though. Like family. My son. My husband. My trip to Russia. Work is kind of a side kick too - it does pay the bills:) And massage seems to be ok. I am loving yoga classes. I am being mindful (yet again) about what I put inside my body. And inside my mind. I knit, read and organize photos (Larry asked me who is that and what did I do with his wife). I brought my old rug from my Russian "dowry" and love looking at it - made the whole place homey. I am expanding my horizon. I am in a stage where this is what more important.

But - it doesn't mean running is away. It's just less, more quality, not obsessive. Track and hills were fun, in a sick kind of way. A few folks trickled in to join the pain - I know, it is not a "no-drop run", where you just go, chat and never get out of breath. Who wants to run with me in their right mind? But that's fine too.

Last weekend I spent in Portland. I cried on Wildwood trail in Forest Park and put a fastest 11 miles I had in a long time. Every time I turn my head and see Gail and Mike behind - it's like travel back in time. Like the conversation never broke, about politics, the insanity of technology, horrendous years of dealing with teenagers, love, family, relationships...I went to see my Russian Girls - and despite the party starting 8:30pm, and me being sleep deprived, tired and on a time 2 hrs ahead, I held on (and actively participated) till 11:30pm. Way past bedtime for me:) We went to the Gorge...and did a loop...and had all of what I remember, long climb, even longer descend, icy drizzle at the higher elevations, packed snow around peak, traitorous footing, gorgeous views, frozen fingers - and Mike-made roll-ups for energy (nothing changed, my friends always had to carry extra food for me since I don't care to prepare for the outings). With that - I realized one thing: as much as in love I am with PNW, miss it, feel at home there as the only place so far anywhere in the world - I won't come back. You can't step into the same river twice. Those waters floated away. I am in a new water, even if the same river. I might be even in a different river. Just hope not in a pond:) Time to move on from the past...

I had the most important visit - the whole reason behind the trip - with my older son. He's all grown up. With a beard. Tall, wide in shoulders, slow in talking. Like not my son. Like another adult, only remotely reminding me of a baby I brought home 20 years ago today. One who says I raised him good - and who is my source of strength as I try and bring up another son, who turned 15 today...yep, same day. I gave birth to my boys on the same day. It is a magnificent day, December 9th. Sometimes it's hard, like today. Some days it was easier, lighter. Better? I don't know. What is better? All's life...

Too much contemplating. Too much looking in. Lets go and look outside!

Be happy - it's up to you.

To read all the lines, you can GO HERE, but let me start with what they started:

Dale Carnegie once said, “It isn’t what you have, or who you are, or where you are, or what you are doing that makes you happy or unhappy. It’s what you think about.”