Perseverance
I’ve been asked to speak to an elementary school next month about perseverance. This school works hard to develop character in their students. Each month is dedicated to a different character trait; the school holds an assembly to award those students who have demonstrated the characteristic, and then someone gives a short talk.
April is perseverance month. Running, the thinking goes, takes perseverance.
For months I’ve been wondering what to say to a group of K through 8th graders about the relationship between running and perseverance. Do most of them even like to run? What is running, really, for kids? From what I have observed, most kids do the sprint-walk. That is, they run all out as far as they can until they virtually collapse, and then they stagger into a walk, sucking in air like a turbojet.
Many of the adults I’ve seen who’ve tried to run with these kids have a hard time keeping up. Maybe they should get an award for perseverance.
I thought about talking to the kids about Wilma Rudolph, a remarkable woman who overcame tremendous hardship to run. Not only did she excel at running, but her efforts broke down some racial barriers in the segregated south. A true role model, in my opinion, not only as a runner but as a human being. Rudolph inspires me, but would she hold the kids’ interest?
What do kids know about perseverance anyway? To persevere is to not give up. To keep going in the face of all adversity, even when you feel like quitting. It means that obstacles cannot be obstacles; they can be hurdles or hills. Maybe even mountains. But you know that if you keep going you will find a way over. So you keep going.
How do you relate that to a kid’s world? What is it that Sponge Bob perseveres at, or Puss in Boots? I have known kids who have demonstrated perseverance without necessarily knowing it. Some have fought hard to stay in school when their parents have wanted to pull them out to work or help with childcare. Others have lived through debilitating illnesses or undergone painful surgeries, only to smile and encourage their caregivers through the whole ordeal.
And I have known kids with incredible dreams who have had no support from the adults in their world. They have been scoffed at and belittled, chastised to the point where many adults would fold and say enough, I give. But not them. They become artists and doctors, entrepreneurs and writers.
Some become runners.
To persevere implies that a goal has been set, that there is some end a person is working toward. Goal setting may be the starting point of perseverance. Maybe getting kids to run, to set goals—even small ones of just a few more yards or, maybe, eventually, a 5K—is the starting point to develop perseverance.
I don’t know if perseverance is learned or innate. Maybe it is a bit of both. Those of us who run know how good it feels to reach the goal we’ve set for ourselves. It makes us want to work even harder, to extend ourselves beyond what we believe to be our capabilities.
When we fail to reach our goal, that too can make us work harder yet. We run through rain and sleet and snow. Bitter cold and blistering heat. Up hills that seem more like cliffs. Through physical pain, illness, family issues. We persevere. Do we get scoffed at? Maybe. But in the end, who cares?
I suppose that this is what to tell the kids. It doesn’t matter what other people think. It doesn’t even matter so much what they do or say. Figure out what you love to do, and then set a goal to do it. Work hard to get there, because if you love it, work won’t feel like work. And falling down won’t hurt as much as staying down. In fact, you may come to feel like a Weeble.
If you haven’t yet figured out what you love to do, take up running. Somewhere in the midst of the sprint-walk you might just hear that still, small voice that speaks to most runners. It will set you straight. And it may keep you running.
What would the rest of you runners say to kids about perseverance?
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The Joy of Sprinting
Wednesdays used to be Prince spaghetti days. Now they’re sprint days.
For years I avoided doing sprints. Although I had read article after article about the benefits of sprints—how they boost metabolism, strengthen the cardiovascular system, strengthen muscle, increase endurance, increase human growth hormone…do I need to go on?—I talked myself out of doing them. Why? Fear.
I watched other runners sprint. Saw how fast they ran, how easy they made it look, how lean they were, and I did what I knew I shouldn’t. I compared myself to them. I could never do that, I told myself, never be like them. Never, ever run that fast without breaking a bone or falling flat on my face.
Then just over two years ago I was invited to the Beach to Bay Relay in Corpus Christi, Texas, a marathon length relay race divided into 6 legs. I was to be part of a team. Leg 6.
No pressure. Just the one to pick up any slack the rest of the team might have dropped. The one to cross the finish line—on behalf of a team.
For the first time since I’d started running, I would be running not for myself, but for others. In my mind, I couldn’t let them down. So I decided to incorporate into my training the one tool I had been too afraid to use. Sprints.
When I first started them, I hated it. It hurt physically and mentally. Running sprints forced me to confront all my self-doubt. Who was I really, and why was I doing this? What was I made of—and was it good enough?
The more I stretched my self-imposed limitations, the more I began to enjoy sprinting. It reinforced what I already sort of knew—the human body is remarkable and can do pretty much anything. Provided the mind allows it to.
Running sprints also helped me to get a handle on one of the reasons I took up running—the need to see how far I could push my body until it broke. I hadn’t been putting all my effort into running, and until I did, I wouldn’t know my true limitations, physical and mental.
I still find it fascinating to learn how my body works. I have learned, for instance, that on the treadmill I cannot go from a full out sprint to a stop for water because my blood pressure can drop too quickly, say from 164 to 86, which is not conducive to standing.
I find it even more fascinating to learn how my mind works. I have let my gut take over when I run. My rational mind used to make a plan that looked like this: Start sprints on the treadmill at a safe speed (not faster than last week), run four incrementally faster sprints, cycle back down four, then stop. Very safe. Very rational. But not very effective at exceeding those boundaries.
Now I don’t worry so much about a plan. I do sprints on Wednesdays. That’s the plan. Start at a speed higher than last week and run as many incrementally higher sprints as I can until my legs turn to noodles. Then I run one more.
Now I love running sprints. And I suppose Wednesdays can still be Prince spaghetti days. Maybe for breakfast. After sprints.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Steppin Out
I prefer to run alone, before dawn. Down deserted sidewalks or streets, preferably near fields and woods, with only the fireflies and stars as companions. I don’t even like streetlights. For me, there’s something about running alone in the dark that’s invigorating, fulfilling. Joyful.
Selfish.
At least that’s the way it struck me recently. It seems like everyone I talk to lately is struggling with their health. Maybe they have high blood pressure and need to get it down. Their life could be on overdrive and they’re looking for a way to manage stress. It might be that they’re tired of waking up tired every day, barely able to drag themselves out of bed, and they just want to feel good. Or maybe they need to drop a few pounds—for their own self-satisfaction as much as for their health.
Where do they begin? It can be overwhelming to even think about joining a gym. Intimidating to take the first step on a run. Easier to stay where they are, status quo, good as any other day. Same as yesterday.
I’ve been thinking about all the times I joined a gym. And didn’t go. All the runs I started. I got dressed and put on my shoes, at least, even if I didn’t quite make it out the door. All the times I tried and failed to even begin.
So how did running finally stick? Someone invited me to join her on a run. More than once, in fact, before I finally accepted. I’m glad I did. Running with someone else gave me hope and confidence. It held me accountable first to her, then to myself. After awhile, I discovered that accountability to self is what comes first. That’s what integrity is, isn’t it?
How many people have you asked to join you on a run? Why not ask someone today? You know that neighbor who’s been eyeballing you each time you head out the door, looking after you wistfully as you stretch? Maybe he’s a closet runner and doesn’t know it yet. Maybe he’s a heart attack waiting to happen but doesn’t know that yet either. Maybe he’ll turn out to be a good friend.
Set a new goal for yourself, a challenge. Once a week, ask someone new to run with you. And when they say no, ask again. See how many people you can introduce to health, to joy—to running. You might just make a new friend. Or save a life. You never know. Someone saved mine.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )It’s About Time
I stopped wearing a watch nearly four years ago when I started working from home. There was no reason to wear one anymore, since my house had a clock visible from nearly every room and I spent much of my time in front of a computer anyway. Funny thing, time. It seems to change when you feel like you own it.
It made me think a lot about what my attitude toward time had been, particularly how much time I wasted because of the mindset I had adopted. I often thought of Henry Thoreau saying, “As if you could kill time without injuring eternity.” I had been injuring eternity all right, by doing a lot of nothing, or by doing the same thing. Stagnating, which is what happens when we feel like we’re moving backward or standing still.
I had experienced the feeling of time standing still when I moved in the dead of winter from Chicago to Guam, a tropical island near the foot of the Mariana Trench. In Guam, it’s always the same temperature and flowers are always in bloom. The seasons never change. Sound like paradise? Maybe. Until you realize that months and then years have passed with each day essentially the same.
I realized then the importance of seasons in triggering change—not only the obvious, outward changes like leaves first budding then browning, but the change that begins within, with us. When we stand still we stagnate. We do the same thing, repeatedly follow the same routine until it becomes thoughtless habit, like brushing our teeth. We get in a rut without realizing it, and before we know it, we are standing still. It’s as if time has stopped.
This can happen with running, or any other form of exercise. If you do the same thing again and again, your body stops responding to what you’re doing with your time, and you get nowhere. Fast. Has your pace stalled at the x-minute mile? Are you running the same number of miles a week you always have been, but suddenly seeing dimples show up on your thighs instead of your smile? It’s time, then, to do something different. It’s time to own the time you put into your workout.
It’s critical to change your routine, even if the change is as simple as taking a new route on your run or adding extra weight or reps to your workout. Your body will respond positively and thank you for it.
It’s almost spring—isn’t it about time for that change?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 1 so far )Mind Games
Self-discipline is hard. If it were easy, we wouldn’t worry so much about keeping New Year’s resolutions. We wouldn’t have to enlist workout accountability partners. There would be no such thing as a diet. And “regret” would be as foreign a word as “in shape.”
When it comes to running, it sometimes takes more mental discipline to go not the extra mile, but the distance I’ve planned for the day. It doesn’t matter if I have a training schedule posted on my refrigerator and I’m preparing for a race. It doesn’t matter what distance I ran yesterday, or the week before. Or ever. Some days even the shortest distance feels like a marathon. On those days, I have to trick myself into running.
We’ve all done it. Forced ourselves to stare at the ground a car’s length ahead, to focus on where we are right now and not on the hill in the distance or the looooonnnnng length of road up ahead. Yet we glance up periodically, seeking out the nearest landmark. If we can just make it to that stop sign, we tell ourselves, we can stop running and walk. When we reach the stop sign we reward ourselves, pat ourselves on the back. But we don’t actually stop. Instead, we choose another landmark and promise ourselves that if we make it to that azalea bush, then we’ll stop. Smell the flowers. Tie or retie our shoes. But, of course, we don’t stop even then. We scan the horizon, pick another landmark, and plod on.
Sometimes our mind games are more emphatically played. We must run a little faster, we tell ourselves, around this curve and past these few houses. We have to, you see, because we refuse to vomit on these nice people’s lawns. And so running becomes incredibly mental as we push our bodies to do—or not do—what at the time seems like the impossible.
How do you keep yourself going? Leave a comment and tell us what mental games you play when you run.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( 3 so far )If I Let My Mind Wander, Will It Come Back?
One thing I’ve always loved about running is the freedom and peace it brings me. No matter what life throws at me, I’ve been able to catch it on a run, reframe it, shrink it, smooth it out, and move on. When I’m outside and let my mind go, it seems to know where to run on its own. Until recently, I’ve only associated that freedom and peace with being outdoors. As a result, each time I lace up and move out, I get excited. But each time I lace up and move in—to run on a treadmill—I get weighed down by dread.
Lately I’ve been running on a treadmill to heal an injury. My task is to overcome muscle memory from years of running crooked, the result of a glitch in the spine and a pelvic girdle that swivels to the left like a broken bar stool, culminating in tremendous hip and knee pain. Our bodies, brilliant as they are, adapt to our movements, however inefficient and “wrong” they are. This is muscle memory. Bodies unconsciously perform the way they’re trained to. In trying to retrain my muscles to work right, I have to make a conscious effort to intervene and redirect them to reshape their memory.
Running on a treadmill where I can set my pace and forget both it and the terrain is something I should have been doing for months, but it took me that long to move myself inside, to face the deadening dread I’ve come to associate with treadmills and ceilings.
I’ve come to realize, however, that as much as our bodies have muscle memory, our minds do too. What’s more, the two are linked. Runners particularly seem to get this, whether they know they do or not. Runners often feel the connection between mind, body, and soul. When they are in harmony, we forget ourselves; we feel a runner’s high. When they are not, we feel everything, including pain.
Our mind’s muscle memory is at work all the time. What we think, feel, remember is tied to places, people, events. What we think effects our emotions; what we feel affects our body. This explains why our stomach knots up when we enter a certain building or see a particular face. Our bodies have been trained by our thoughts to react in a certain way. Muscle memory is part of the mind/body relationship. There’s no separating them.
Like our body, our mind can be retrained. We can let our thoughts go out to wander while we run—such is the joy and peace of running—but how mindful are we of where they go? We hold thought in our hands like a bird. Is it a dove, sent out in hope of returning with the olive branch of peace? Is it a falcon, unmasked and driven to hunt down the answer to a problem?
Where your mind wanders is up to you. You can choose to let it be contained, to surrender to dread, or you can choose to set it free and bring you joy. If you let your mind wander, it comes back—but it will always wander out in the direction it’s been trained to go.
Now, I make a conscious effort to train my mind as much as I train my body. Where my mind goes, my body follows. And as my dad always used to say, wherever you go, that’s where you are.
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )To See or Not to See
I first took up running 11 years ago when I lived in Guam. Looking back, I can see all the good reasons why I began. At the time, however, it all boiled down to one thing: spite. I set out to run with the specific intension of showing “them” that I could.
Ah, the nebulous “them.” All those people, circumstances, events, voices that conspire to tell us we’re not enough of one kind of person—or too much of another—to make it even a mile down the road, much less run a race. We all know “them,” whether they show up in our running or camp out on some other doorstep in our head.
Spite might get you going, but it sends you down the road alone. At least it did me. Because I initially set myself apart from other runners, I spent a lot of time not only physically uncomfortable but downright miserable. I didn’t know, for instance, that companies actually make clothing specifically designed to keep runners cool, so I ran for months in heavy cotton t-shirts, losing more weight in sweat than in anything else. It’s always the little things that make such a big difference. It wasn’t until I was ready to receive the knowledge and friendship of other runners that I found that running could actually be comfortable, and even fun. Up until then, I kinda hated it.
Once I opened myself up, I received all kinds of great things. Practical advice. Training tips. Cool new routes to run. New friends. All these things made me a better runner, but they did something more. They smothered the voices of “them.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “People only see what they are prepared to see.” Certainly, I had to be prepared to receive other runners, but I also had to be ready to let go of “them” and hold onto me. I had to believe in myself. I had to alter my vision of myself in order to really, truly believe that I could accomplish my goals. I had to prepare my mind to see me differently.
Fortunately, and, ironically, through running, I eventually learned to send “them” packing off down the road and to leave me alone. But I’m not really alone anymore. I belong to a community of runners. And I know that I can run—I’ve seen it for myself.
What are you preparing yourself to see?
Read Full Post | Make a Comment ( None so far )Why Run?
It’s January, the first month of the year, the month when we post our resolutions smack dab on the front of the refrigerator, clear and bold and brazen for everyone to see. We resolve to eat right, exercise more, get our finances in order, spend more time with the people we love. We resolve to be kinder, gentler, more patient. And for some of us, the very first goal is one we really don’t need to post on our list because we’d do it anyway.
We resolve to run.
In 1990, there were approximately 4.8 million runners in the US; by 2010, there were almost 13 million. In just one short decade the number of runners nearly tripled. And that number accounts only for road race finishers, or those people who finished a 5K, 10K, half marathon, or marathon. It does not include your Average Joe or Joan who runs the neighborhood streets before dawn.
Running as a sport has exploded. Why do we run? According to Running USA’s latest survey (July 2011), most people run to stay in shape, stay healthy, have fun, and relieve stress. Additionally, many people take up running as a means of taking on a new challenge and achieving a new goal. Sometimes the goal is health-related, often it is not.
Although most people surveyed claim that the motivating factor to continue running is to stay in shape, just over 40% claim that they are not happy with the shape they are currently in. So they keep running, determined to attain the level of health they desire.
Running, however, does much more than get our bodies in shape. It gets our souls in shape as well. What I mean by soul is simply this: the soul is the essence of our being. It is who we are. There is something about running that allows us to tap into our essential humanity. We find our center, our core, that thing inside that makes us unique and connects us to the other souls out there too.
When we run we get to find out what we are made of. Can we make it up that hill? Can we reach the end of the road? Can we even begin? Often, what we are made of surprises us. We find that we have more power than we thought. We are strong, responsible, intentional. And the more we run, the farther we go, we also find that running opens us up. What we often find through this openness is optimism, gratitude, joy.
For most of us, running is not an end in itself. It is the means. It is the tool that helps to shape us. Like a carpenter’s adze, running makes intricate carvings in our character, refining us with each mile or minute we run. Even though it’s January, the first month of the year, we can resolve to run—but running itself can make us resolved.
Why do you run?
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