Taking Time
I don’t have time.
Can’t fit it into my schedule, don’t know how it will get done, it simply won’t happen, there is just not enough time.
If I could plant and grow a pumpkin seed for every time I heard time as an excuse for not exercising, the Great Pumpkin would be rising from its patch nearly every night.
But I don’t buy it. We all have time. The same amount, every day. What we choose to do with it is up to us. We base our choices on our priorities, those people, principles, or things that mean the most to us.
When I’ve led a priorities exercise in workshops, I’ve found that two things are often glaringly missing from people’s lists: their health and their God. Even if they tell you in conversation that their health and their spirituality are two of the most important things in their lives, when pressed to list priorities, neither make the list.
Why not? I ask.
No time.
One reason for this may be the way people view time. They take time to do the things they want or need to do. They take time, for instance, to attend a meeting. But while there, they’re not actually present in the meeting. They’re busy checking email or texting or making notes about a dozen unrelated things.
They are subtracting time from their day, eliminating tasks one by one.
Maybe instead of taking time, people can learn to give it. To add something worthwhile to their day, their sense of well-being. To their actual, physical well-being. We seem to put emphasis—more of ourselves—into the things we give, so why not give something, a gift, to ourselves? Why not time?
There is always enough time. What are you going to do with yours?
I’m going to run.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Fall into Running
I feel like I’ve become a vampire runner since I’ve lived in Texas. For what seems like 10 months out of the year (but is probably only 5), I run in the dark, before the sun comes up. It’s not that I think my body will burst into a ball of fire or disintegrate into an ash heap once the first ray of dawn touches my skin, it’s that with the Texas sun comes heat and humidity, and I do not like running in the heat and humidity. I’m kind of spoiled that way.
I was born and raised in Michigan, where we have four distinct seasons. I love the fall. And I really miss it. So I was absolutely THRILLED this week when fall began to sweep its way through central Texas.
To my horror, I almost missed it.
Fortunately, I got to run a lot this week. I say “fortunately” now, but I didn’t feel so fortunate when the week began. I’ve been diligent about maintaining a strength training program for several months now, which means I’m in the gym 3 mornings a week and running only 2 or (during good weeks) 3. But this week I suffered from a puzzling injury that caused a great deal of pain when I raised my arm even just a little. There went strength training out the door.
I solved the puzzle after only 2 days, but have had a hard time reducing the pain. The source of the injury? Stress. Seems I carry my stress in my shoulders and neck. My muscles twist and strain like chords of twine worked into a braid, then bunch up into what feels like a knotted ball. Literally. I could actually hear something in there bounce earlier in the week.
But rather than whine, I rolled out of bed and ran. To my very pleasant surprise, outside felt like Michigan. Cool, crisp air. The smell of early fall. It changed my outlook entirely.
I even ran one morning after the sun came up.
And I didn’t explode.
Maybe by next week I can smooth out the lumps and put away the fangs for good. Fall will likely be here, full head on. I can’t wait.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )(It’s a good thing) Old Habits Die Hard
Last week I fell into the black hole of despair. My fitness routine fell in right after me. You may know how it is. First you skip a day or two of workouts to a lie in bed and think. Then you start eating all the wrong things. Which, of course, makes you feel terrible when you wake up in the morning, so you shut off your alarm and go back to bed for another hour. Or two. Before you know it, a week’s gone by and you haven’t done anything healthy for yourself.
But one morning you notice the empty family size bag of Julio’s in the trash (which would be fine, if you had a family). And, maybe worse, you notice something sparkly on your shoelaces when you accidentally kick a lone running shoe that got wedged under the couch—and the sparkle is not a diamond but the intricate web of a spider that’s taken over your shoe.
OK, you tell yourself. Crawl out of the hole. It’s time to run.
This week, I got back into the swing of things. My goals were small:
- Do NOT hit snooze. Get up at the usual time: 5 am.
- Do something strenuous every morning. Moving the party size vat of ice cream from one freezer shelf to another does not count as strenuous. Either run or strength train.
- Remind yourself why you make healthy choices in the first place. Because it feels good. I promise.
The hardest part about resuming a habit is in the mind. It takes more effort to convince myself to move than it does to actually move. Mentally, I have to argue with myself every morning, find the right argument to ignite the chain of events that become exercise. Physically, my body knows what to do. I just have to set it in motion, and it goes. The force of habit propels my joints, muscles, limbs to perform familiar actions.
Thank God for muscle memory, for the pattern of movement we build into our bodies. If my feet didn’t know their way down the road, I’d likely still be lying in bed.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )When Running Isn’t Enough
Running is the only thing I have to look forward to right now.
That’s what a friend of mine told me over coffee this week.
If I can make it out the door, she said, and run the 3 or 5 or 7 miles on my plan, I know I can do anything. It gives me strength. Purpose.
I nodded intently over the heart-shaped foam skimming the top of my cappuccino. Yes, I reassured her, I understand.
I don’t know how many times I’ve been there. If I can just get out of bed and lace up my shoes. If I can only make it to that Stop sign. At least I will know that I can set a goal and reach it. I’ll know that if I can do this, I can do anything.
It’s that feeling of accomplishment and strength that keeps many runners motivated. Reaching the point of self-motivation—the muscle memory (body and brain) of the calm and happiness that lies on the sweaty and alert side of the run—takes time to cultivate. Even though I’ve been there for a number of years, I still have those stretches of life where I need motivation from without. I need someone else’s words to help me find my strength and purpose.
Often, for me, that person is Henry Thoreau. I won’t go into all the reasons why; this isn’t a blog on literature or botany or limnology or natural history. It’s a blog on running. And more. But I thought I’d share with you a couple of Thoreau’s quotes that have helped move me when running wasn’t enough.
Though I do not believe that a plant will spring up where no seed has been, I have great faith in a seed. Convince me that you have a seed there, and I am prepared to expect wonders. (“The Dispersion of Seeds,” Faith in a Seed)
Jan. 5. P. M. A man receives only what he is ready to receive, whether physically or intellectually or morally, as animals conceive at certain seasons their kind only. We hear and apprehend only what we already half know. If there is something which does not concern me, which is out of my line, which by experience or by genius my attention is not drawn to, however novel and remarkable it may be, if it is spoken, we hear it not, if it is written, we read it not, or if we read it, it does not detain us. Every man thus tracks himself through life, in all his hearing and reading and observation and traveling. His observations make a chain. The phenomenon or fact that cannot in any wise be linked with the rest which he has observed, he does not observe. By and by we may be ready to receive what we cannot receive now. (Journal 13, December 1859 – July 1860)
Strange passages to find comfort in, I know. Nevertheless, I do. Are there certain authors or quotes that get you motivated?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )The Wonder Wall: or, I wonder why I hit that wall
There you are one early morning, in the pool swimming laps, on your bike cruising down country roads, or out for a long run through the backstreets. You had a plan, you set your distance, knew your route and were off. But half way through your workout, your arms stopped rotating like a windmill, your legs resembled the rubber chicken sitting on the corner of your desk, and your body slumped into something you liken to the compost pile in your backyard.
It’s happened. You’ve hit the wall.
This can be dismaying, to say the least, especially when you thought you were doing fine and felt like you were in great shape to be out there rolling.
What causes us to hit the wall and what can we do to prevent hitting it? It seems to me there are three important factors athletes—yes, even amateur athletes like most of us—need to consider before we hit the dawn running.
Nutrition
If your body was like Janet Jackson, it might sing you a song: What have you done for me lately? (And if your mind is like mine, you get a song stuck in your head whose words you either don’t like or can’t remember, but you sing it to yourself anyway, making up different words to suit your situation. Like what did you eat for me lately?)
The question is a serious one. What did you fuel your body with before your workout? Before, in my mind, is not only the 30 to 60 minutes before you head out the door, but the long stretch of hours that lead into your workout, the night before if you work out in the morning or the entire day if you work out in the afternoon or evening.
I work out first thing in the morning. I always eat a small meal 30 minutes or so before my workout, but I am also cognizant of what I eat the night before. If I am doing cardio in the morning, I make sure I eat complex carbs with dinner. And if I’m hungry before I go to bed, I eat. Your body needs the right balance of proteins, fats, and carbs, complex as well as simple, to function at its best. Don’t deny it what it needs.
Hydration
If you feel thirsty, it’s already too late. You’re dehydrated. What do you do? Drink, drink, drink! Drink before you go to bed, drink before and after your workout. Drink always, all day long.
Notice I didn’t include the middle of your workout as a time to drink. That depends on what you’re doing and how long you’re doing it. I always have water with me when I bike, swim, and weight train. I drink frequently during all of these activities. But I don’t take water with me when I run unless I plan to be out there more than 60 minutes. I know there are some people who would say, so what? Take water anyway! For me this is simply a personal preference. I don’t like holding things in my hands or feeling extra weight hanging on my hips when I run.
What do you drink? Water. Lots of it. Sports drinks are unnecessary for most people, unless you’re out there sweating profusely for long periods of time. If you’re training for a marathon or a triathlon, especially in summer in Texas, that’s a different story. Kind of. I prefer coconut water over sports drinks because sports drinks have a lot of sugar in them. Coconut water has none. It’s a great way to keep hydrated or to rehydrate.
Muscle fatigue
It could be that you hit a wall because your body is just plain tired. Have you slept enough? Have you over trained? Does your body need rest for a few days? Should you stop what you’re doing at the moment, or should you push through?
That depends.
The way you get to know your own strength, to find out what you’re made of, and to improve your endurance is to push yourself beyond what you think are your limitations. Sure, I can stop when my knees get wobbly or turn into lead pipes. I may even have to stop. But at what point do I make this determination?
Ask Socrates. He’d probably say Know Thyself. Part of training hard and pushing yourself to be better, stronger, faster than you were before (like the Six Million Dollar Man) is knowing your body well enough to understand what it’s trying to tell you and to respect it enough to listen. There’s a fine line between breaking through the wall and breaking your body. The first is exhilarating. The second excruciating. Unfortunately, sometimes we learn to recognize our body’s queues through trial and error. When we err, it hurts.
Inevitably, at some point in training, you’ll hit a wall. If you pay attention to your body, it will let you know why you hit it and what to do about it. Listen to it. Your body knows best. Almost like your mother.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 3 so far )Gratitude. It’s what’s for breakfast.
I don’t always jump out of bed with a happy smile on my face. Some mornings I don’t even want to roll out and frown. I have my share of days when I dread getting out of bed, and sometimes I even dread the thought of running.
But one of the things I love about running is the remarkable way it transforms my attitude, usually from cranky to grateful. Most morning runs are like that. My time outside results in more than the physical benefits I get from running. Running shows me gratitude.
By the end of my run, I usually have a mental picture of all the things I am grateful for. Some of them look like this:
G od. For making me. Able.
R obert, my boyfriend.
A ll my family and friends. Even the cranky ones.
T oday, because it’s all I have for certain.
I ce cream.
T omorrow, because with it comes promise and hope.
U rsa Minor. Or pretty much any constellation.
D ogs. Mine: Smaug and Queequeg.
E ars to hear. Eyes to see.
Does running do the same thing for you? What are you grateful for?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 4 so far )What Running Could Teach a Girl
I want to show girls how running teaches them things that can change their lives.
I hear that sentiment a lot as I talk with women who want to become coaches or other volunteers for Girls on the Run. I smile every time because I understand just what they mean. Now.
There was a time, however, when hearing such a thing struck me as completely ridiculous. How could running teach a person about life? All it seemed to teach people was how to sweat a lot and injure muscles and ligaments I had never heard of. How does limping through life with wet socks and undergarments teach anyone anything useful about living? Sheer craziness, I thought.
Until I ran. Now, I am a runner.
Did you notice the way I phrased that? I am a runner. I did not say that I became a runner, or that I learned to run, although both statements are true. Instead, I chose a phrase that defines a present, permanent, pervasive state of being. You could almost call it an inhabitation. Now, it is quite natural for me to say this: I am a runner. For a long time, it was not.
I often think about why that is the case. People frequently ask me if I am a runner, and it always startles me. For some reason, I don’t expect it to show. I know that many runners have identifiable physiques, as do jockeys and sumo wrestlers, but I don’t think it’s the association with a particular body type that surprises me.
Maybe it’s because for me running is not about the body anymore. It’s about the soul. And to ask if I’m a runner means that in some strange way the most private part of me has been made public. A clearly unsettling prospect for anyone. Unsettling, and life changing.
Running didn’t show me that I had a soul (I’d like to believe it was already there), it made me understand that what I needed to succeed in this life—what I needed to make healthy and loving choices, to be strong and confident and at peace—was already there inside me. Running helped me to tap into it and pull it out, unfold it and put its pieces together, like the kite you might get in your Easter basket, ultimately billowing high above the earth but tethered to you by a string.
And that’s what these volunteers want the girls to see. That they already have at least the pieces of everything they need to live a happy, healthy life right there inside them.
If they can get the girls to take just one step, to move forward just a little, the girls will learn to trust the voice they hear inside when they run. Eventually, the girls will run into themselves.
And maybe some of them will one day say, I am a runner.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Anger Management, or how running could save the world
I’ve been feeling a bit out of sorts for a week or so. Not physically—I’ve been doing a lot of strength training, circuits, and swimming—but mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually. Whatever you want to call the blend of those other essences that make us who we are. Something simply hasn’t been right.
I don’t like it when something isn’t right and I can’t identify it. I feel it in my diaphragm, mostly, that space between the stomach and the heart, both of which are inevitably effected, like someone has been playing lawn darts in there and abandoned them where they stuck, and I’m left walking around dragging daggers behind me.
I’ve spent so much time in the gym these past two weeks that until this morning I haven’t been outside to run—just run and nothing more—for nearly 10 days. So yesterday, I set out from my house before dawn, alone. My favorite time and way to run. I always say that, always remember it, know it in my head, but I believe I actually forget the real reason why I love it until I’m out there running.
When I set out alone in the wee hours, I dragged the darts behind me. The heaviness made me angry. I didn’t realize this until I was about a mile and a half down the road, looked up from my reverie, and thought, how’d I get here already? I felt my legs moving fast and my body standing stiff and tall and I recognized that it was the quickness of anger that moved me.
But angry at what? is what I wanted to know. It’s been a good week—all seems right with the world, on the whole—and I couldn’t place the anger. So I kept running, letting my anger and the darts propel me down my path, until an amazing thing happened.
Somewhere between miles 2 ½ and 3, the darts fell away and my anger dissipated. Why? Because somehow, simply in the act of running, I found an answer. The issue that had twisted me all out of sorts had a name. Anger wasn’t the real issue, it was a symptom, and I could suddenly identify what it was that had been bothering me. I didn’t yet have a solution, but the issue finally had a name.
This, I was overjoyed to remember, not only in my head, but in every limb and organ in my body, is why I run. Alone. Before dawn.
There is nothing more therapeutic than pounding the pavement, letting whatever it is that ails you have the space to actually ail. By the end of my 5 mile run, I knew what the problem was and how to address it. What a relief.
And what a reminder. I need to run alone before dawn more often. Simply to keep clear and balanced.
Now, if we could get the whole world running, imagine what kind of problems could be solved.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 2 so far )What Would Barbie Do…in the Olympics?
from Economic Times, India Times
I love the Olympics. And although I root for the USA in every event they participate, I have to admit that what I watch for is not necessarily nationality, it’s ability. The athletes who make any Olympic team are extraordinary. Watching them gives me goosebumps at the least, and sometimes brings me to tears. The perfection and grace of movement in rowing, diving, sprinting, pole vaulting, gymnastics is simply stunning, particularly since the athletes make what they’re doing look so effortless. It’s easy to forget all the blood, sweat, and years, all the training and discipline and sacrifice that lead to this one event. It blows me away.
So when I heard comments about Gabby Douglas’s hair, I was, well, perplexed. Here is a woman who won the gold medal in the gymnastics all-around event and is a member of the U.S. team that won a gold medal—the first team gold for the U.S. since 1996—and people are talking about her hair?
It gets better. Some people are actually calling some Olympic women athletes fat. That’s right. Olympic athletes—some of the fittest people on earth—fat. It doesn’t seem to matter that they’re bodies are conditioned to support them in their chosen field. It doesn’t seem to matter that many of them set or break records. What makes the news is that some swimmer or sprinter doesn’t look as “fit” as in the last Olympics. Or that another one is “carrying too much weight.”
And we wonder why so many girls have eating disorders or body image issues when even the fittest of us are scrutinized as if we were a side of Kobe beef.
I wish I could say I am surprised, but, sadly, I am not. This Olympics marks the first time women are competing in every event, and from every country. This year also marks the 40th anniversary of Title IX in the U.S., the law that opened the door for women’s participation in sports where they did not have access before. Undoubtedly, more women are competing at a higher caliber because of the opportunities afforded by this law, yet those discussions and those women are not what’s making the news.
Perhaps coincidentally, another story making the news this week has to do with Barbie, the 53-year-old who never ages. Now, I played with Barbie as a kid. She usually teamed up my brother’s GI Joes to battle the evil Rock ’em Sock ’em Robots. But it never occurred to me to see her form as an aspiration. In my mind, that would have been like trying to force myself into the shape of a pine tree or something equally ridiculous. I just wasn’t made that way, and, alas, I lacked the Wonder Twins super powers.
Model Katie Halchishick decided to make a point this week. She marked her body with dotted lines, the way a plastic surgeon marks bodies before rearranging them. The lines correspond to what a Barbie doll would look like in real life.
Scary. Unnatural. Those are only two words that come immediately to mind.
Yet the figure and hair and makeup of Barbie is what some people seem to want to see soaring over the vault or flying across the pool at the Olympics. But with a body like that, what, exactly, could Barbie hope to do in any athletic event, much less at the Olympics? Her thin little arms couldn’t support her on the uneven bars. Her skinny little waist could never contain the strong core muscles to lift her body over the hurdles. And that scrawny (scary) neck? It doesn’t appear that it would hold her head up high enough to see the crowd.
When I see someone like sprinter Sanya Richards-Ross moving like the wind across the track, her muscular body rippling with the effects of all that training, and then hear someone ask, what’s up with her hair, I can’t decide whether to laugh or scream or cry.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 4 so far )What Makes Us Ready to Listen?
This week my boyfriend decided he likes running. He never really liked it before now for a variety of reasons, including debilitating knee pain, which would make me not want to run either. But this week he thought he’d give it another shot. What motivated him to try to run? Not me. (I know, can you believe it?) Nope, it was timing.
Robert has a longtime friend who he doesn’t see much anymore, though they keep up through Facebook. His friend absolutely LOVES to run, and posts about it regularly. A few days ago, this friend posted something that caught Robert’s attention.
He said he runs because he can, and one day he may not be able to.
Now, I know this particular message has been out there in many forms from many sources for many years. It’s one of those things we hear repeatedly, and maybe don’t pay too much attention to. But then one day something clicks. We pay attention. We don’t just hear the message. We process it. Why? Timing.
I don’t know what else is going on in Robert’s mind that made him process the message differently this time. But that’s the beautiful thing about our subconscious mind. It’s always working on something, secretly, even when we’re asleep. I’ve taken to thinking of this part of my mind as a little cellar, dark and dank and growing all kinds of stuff, with little elves running around in there, creating things, or at least tending to the heaps of things already growing. When the creation is ready, the elves crack open the cellar door and hand it out to me. Then, it’s up to me to do with it what I will.
What Robert chose to do with his reprocessing was to run, to at least give it another try. Because it finally occurred to him that right now, he can. Maybe in a year or two or twenty, he won’t be able to.
Maybe he realized that ability is a gift, a present of the present moment. How wonderful to use it as it’s meant to be used.
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