A Runner's Story #3: We're not invisible after all

After running for years in the same neighborhoods, you're bound to be noticed. This, I didn't realize until my fourth or fifth year.

My dad told me about a customer that came in one day. He recognized me in a picture on my dad's desk, but couldn't remember from where. Sketchy? That was my first thought (my dad's, too, I'm sure). They conversed, trying to figure out where this creep might have seen me. I suppose, thinking this guy might have seen me at a track or cross country meet sometime, my dad pointed out that I run for my high school. That's all it took.

I had been running the same route on average once a week, sometimes more, since my freshman year of high school. Little did I know, a family who lived on that route kept an eye out for me. The customer (not a creep after all, as far as I know) and his kids had nicknamed me the Runner Girl (or something to that effect).

That day I realized something very important: eyes are on all of us. Even when you're doing the most mundane thing--working out, shopping, taking your dog for a walk, having dinner with that special someone, searching for a parking space--someone sees you. Unless you are in the comfort of your own home, you never know who is learning from your mistakes, or being inspired, or following your example, or praying that their kids don't turn out like you.

To this day, I do not know which house belongs to the family that watched out for me. To this day, I do not know if they ever saw me trip on a curb, blow my nose on my shirt, stop to stretch or secretly catch my breath because I was out of shape. I do know this: they are not the only family that lived on that route. Or any other of the hundreds of routes I've ever run.

Lesson: don't make ugly faces unless you don't mind others taking mental pictures of you. 

Re-thinking

In my last  post, I pondered what good my running could do for the world around me. Tonight, I realized something that I hadn't thought of before: running has intertwined my life with so many others'. From opponents to teammates, coaches to spectators, I've encountered more people than I can count.

Most importantly to me, though, running has provided the context through which I've made some of the best friends thus far in my life. Even if I'm not still close with some of them, these people have made my life greater in some way. 

Freshman year of high school, cross country introduced me to an incredible group of ladies. I'd name some of them, but I'm afraid I'd leave someone out. We had so many laughs, seemingly endless talks, effective runs and some non-effective runs, and we made some of my favorite memories. Throughout the next three years, this group evolved into something completely different and special in its own way. I've already mentioned The White Gazelle and Molly in previous posts, but there are definitely others I would add to this list. I also made friends with a college student and former Pirate, but our friendship turned out to be seasonal, as many do. Over the years, we've completely lost touch. It happens.

I can't forget the guys' team. Our Pirate men consisted of some of the greatest, and weirdest guys I've ever met. Talk about character!

Then college brought me to a new stage in life, with a new team and new friendships. Many of those friendships seem to have been seasonal as well--except for one. There's nothing like a spontaneous run in the middle of a cold, dark night with a great friend.

Maybe God didn't give me this talent just to inspire others. Maybe He did so hoping I would take the opportunities I have in order to form the relationships I have, and hopefully do something inspiring within them. If I can find no other blessing in my running, at least I can say it has provided me with opportunities to form some of the richest relationships I have. And I hope there are more to come.

I may still want to believe that God made me a "talented runner" and not just a "runner," but at least for now I'm satisfied with my conclusion.

Athletes for Christ

1 Peter 4: 10-11

Over the past year, I've come across scripture and even some other readings on using our talents and skills to bring God to others. Some of us have many talents, some very few. But part of putting those talents to good use is learning how to use them to benefit others, not just ourselves.

I'd like to believe that God gave me not only the ability, but the talent to run well, and not just for the purpose of running or staying in shape. Aside from simply giving credit to Him, how do athletes use their athleticism for a greater good?

Here are some ways to inspire others and bring God glory with your athletic talents, if you have any:

•  Suffer a life-altering injury or illness, but overcome it with faith, prayer, and determination.
• (Along the same lines), get bitten by a shark, and learn how to adjust to your sport without a(n) (insert limb).
• Use your athletic abilities to become rich and famous; then give your earnings to orphans and widows and credit to God.

I know this sounds like I'm mocking God, Wilma Rudolph, Lance Armstrong, Bethany Hamilton, and countless others who have inspired the world, but I truly admire them for enduring their plights and keeping their faith. I've even witnessed with my own eyes, be it in person or on youtube, how God can use one person with incredible athletic talent to reach as few as one non-believer, or as many as thousands. 

At times, I've envied these athletes. Selfishly, I've imagined myself in some of the previously mentioned scenarios, inspiring people around the world, giving to charities, giving motivational speeches at schools or hospitals, etc. In reality, though, I'm just a girl who can run long distances (if I train, of course).

At the end of the day, I'm left wondering, "Who saw me running out there and decided to turn to God?" "Who have I inspired, and how?" "What has my talent done for anyone, spiritually?"




Maybe scripture doesn't apply here, but then, why should I bother to ever lace up again? That thought just doesn't seem right. For now, I suppose I'm fine with not knowing. I'll just keep running and let God do his thing.


Peace

A Runner's Story #2: Saran Wrap

On a long run, one has time to think, fantasize, plot...

Put two runners together for a long run, and the possibilities are endless.

I'm proud to say that The White Gazelle and I mixed ideas and creativity well. My senior year of high school marks one of my favorite shenanigans with my friend. After fantasizing about it for weeks, planning an appropriate time to carry it out (after track season was complete), we finally got our chance to pull it off. Stealing a roll of Saran wrap from the training room and designating two of our strongest girls to put their muscles to work, we easily had Claudia pinned to a tree in no time at all. Claudia was a freshman-she had it coming.

To top it off, we spotted Molly's bike nearby, locked to a tree. Oh, Molly. Molly's the type of person that has to grow on you, but when she does, you find yourself laughing twice as much as before. Molly's bike had been locked to that tree for days, possibly weeks. When Molly finally decided to retrieve it, Molly found it neatly wrapped from handle bars to spokes. At least it was dry. 


Holla, Pirates!

Behind every accomplishment is a sacrifice

As much as I love running, and as much as I appreciate the years of hard work I've put into being a decent long-distance runner, there are some drawbacks that I am paying for now that I never considered before.

As I learned in health class my freshman year of college, every person has fast-twitch muscles and slow-twitch muscles. Not surprisingly, endurance athletes tend to develop more slow-twitch than fast-twitch, whereas athletes who rely more on speed and reflexes, like sprinters, football and volleyball players, etc., develop more fast-twitch muscles.

Now that I am free to explore other sports via intramurals, I am learning that the athleticism I used to take so much pride in has diminished. I lack agility, which I determined on the racquetball court; quick reflexes, discovered on the football field; hand-eye coordination--I'm sure you can imagine; and certainly more skills to be uncovered within the next few months.

Had I known all I would be good for after years of running was...running, well, probably nothing would have changed (maybe I wouldn't be quite as frustrated). I feel like a child, relearning how to move and think on my toes. I wonder, though, is this the only price I'll have to pay?

Running in the dark

When you run in the dark, you see things that you may not see in daylight. For instance, I ran with the beloved Kat Grillo when I got off work at midnight yesterday, and the moon shone with fury. Stars dotted the sky, which is something incredible for those of us who grew up in a big city with intruding lights. I was also graced with the presence of five deer. They made a brief appearance before bounding across the road only fifty yards ahead of us (we may have interrupted a midnight snack).

Not as dark as midnight, dawn is an incredible time to run as well. You get to watch the early birds (literally) grab their breakfast before taking refuge in the shade of a tree. One time, I left my house at about six in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise, and I encountered a raccoon finishing its meal out of a neighbor's trash can. I stopped to observe, and when it saw me through it's blackened eyes, it scurried to a drain gutter, perhaps never to be seen again. And I'll never forget the morning a skunk ran alongside The White Gazelle and me during practice in a forested park. The sun had yet to raise its head from slumber, but we runners and skunks couldn't wait to begin the day. 

Much more can be said about running in the dark, but work is calling. Peace.

When thoughts run wild

I've had people ask what I think about when I run. You can imagine just how many thoughts run across a person's mind during a 30+ minute time span with nothing but the wind to keep him or her company. I don't know about other runners out there, but I don't have an answer to this question.

Just a few hours ago, I ran about four miles on my own, and I can't recall a single thought that past through my mind. As far as I know, my mind was a complete blank. In fact, I ran with an iPod, and the only song I remember is the very first one that played. I know it was a nice run in nice, cool weather, and I can remember most of the sights along the route. I certainly remember an unwelcome tag-along that sniffed at my heals and caused me to run into a tree branch that knocked the earphones out of my ears. And I remember the dead armadillo on the side of the road (and the smell). But what did I think about?

This isn't always the case. Sometimes I go for a run in order to clear my mind, sift through thoughts and anxiety after a stressful day, play over a conversation I had or plan to have. But those are runs for the specific purpose of thinking. Like most runners, when I head out the door and start my watch, I'm running for the purpose of training for a race or staying in shape. By the time I stop my watch and reach for a bottle of water, whatever ran through my head moments before is long gone. Funny.

A Runner's Story #1: A Friendship Planted

Most friendships begin with, "Hi, I'm (insert name)." (Extend a hand for greeting purposes.) Or maybe two people start a conversation about something they know they have in common. From there, more conversations arise. Awkward silences become infrequent. And BOOM. Friendship.

This one took a different route. The White Gazelle (not yet known by that name) sat on the cold concrete in the dark, her back to an equally cold concrete bench. I was sitting on the bench, not two feet away. We waited silently; our coach hadn't emerged from his office yet, and our teammates hadn't arrived (neither had the sun).

She slowly scrunched her knees up underneath her hoodie. She pulled up the hood, tightened the draw-string, and drew in her arms, forming a defenseless ball of person. How could I resist? A little nudge never hurt anyone. Like Humpty Dumpty, she tipped over, slowly. In the silence that surrounded us, without a word (but perhaps with a sigh and a bit of a grunt), The White Gazelle's arms emerged from their respective armholes. With not too much of a struggle, she regained her balance, and we returned to the silent cold, waiting.

Learning to just be friends

Running and I are at an awkward phase of our relationship. I still love to run and want to continue to run competitively, but I no longer share the obligations of my former teammates and collegiate runners around the world. I can drink soda, play other sports, and even skip a workout without the obligation to feel guilty. Do I still feel guilty anyway?...Of course. That is the runner within. But the pressure is off.

Here's an odd something to ponder: This past summer I struggled to motivate myself to workout everyday, believing I would enter a new season with my team. I am now more motivated to workout, not knowing where I am headed (competitively).

I like to keep it brief sometimes. Peace. And volleyball.

Breaking up is hard

As I have stated before, I've been running cross country and track since the seventh grade. Over the years, the sport has become more than just a sport; it's a relationship. I've been committed, in love with what I do, willing to make sacrifices, and have faced challenges within the relationship that have been emotionally and physically draining.

The ultimate challenge came this morning. I resigned from the cross country team at my school. I lost the passion I possessed for 8 years. I've been in denial about this for some time, trying to convince myself that certain changes would rekindle the flame. But this weekend opened my eyes and forced me to face the truth.

After stressing for weeks, feeling sick with guilt and dread the past few days, a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. Making the choice wasn't easy, and my heart and mind are weighed with grief, but I know I have made the right decision. 

With endings come new beginnings (how's that for cliche?). I am not done running. Far from it actually. I am only taking a detour. I've got a new course ahead, though I don't know where it leads. I'll keep you in the know. Peace

Against the... wind

Sophomore year of high school, track season, dust storm. I was making the turn around the 200 meter mark and was literally blown out of my lane. Of course, I weighed all but 95 lbs, but still.

I love running into the wind. I may look forward to the turn-around, but I always appreciate a little extra challenge. For one thing, I've always believed that running against the wind makes me run harder, stronger. Then, when I have the wind to my back, that same pace doesn't seem so tedious.Again, you've got to make it hurt sometimes, or you'll accomplish very little.

A fond memory: My running buddy in high school, Whitney (from here on she will be referred to as The White Gazelle), and I were good teammates. During my sophomore year and some of my junior year, we relied on our teamwork in the 3200 and 1600 meter races. For one lap, she would take the lead and give me a break from the wind. The next lap, I would take the lead (but my height did not allow her the same advantage hers allowed me).  I like to believe that it made a bit of a difference.

Just so you are warned, The White Gazelle will most likely be mentioned several times in the future, as she and I have many stories on the course and track. Peace.

The Two-Day Curse

This morning I was reminded of a theory I devised back in high school. It seems that if I take one day off from running, I come back refreshed and ready to go. I can take three days off, or even four, and still be in decent shape. But if I take two days off, my next run will undoubtedly require all of my energy, and I will still run slow and need breaks. My body won't be able to produce the desired outcome.

Is it all in my head? That's a likely explanation. I find it odd that I was ever able to come up with it; I guess I found a pattern at some point. I had forgotten about it until this morning. I ran with a good friend of mine for the first time in months. From the start of the run, I felt tired and breathless. My first mile was pitiful. After about 2 1/2 miles, I needed a break. Five more minutes called for another break. I couldn't understand. Two nights ago I felt fine. Slow but fine. That's when it hit me: "two nights ago".

I've tried to delete the concept from my mind, to overcome this curse, but I'm beginning to believe that there may be some truth to it. 

Running in the rain

Who knows why I thought to write about this today? It's not like I've had any inspiration lately...hehehe. Anyway, I've always loved running in the rain. It's refreshing and makes the run interesting. Squinting, puddles, shoes squishing, soaked to the core, and when you finish, your clothes are sticking to you, and you weigh about ten pounds heavier than usual.

The last time I ran in the rain, and I mean THE RAIN, was my  senior year of high school, shortly after the district track meet. I qualified for regionals in the 1600, so I was still training. This particular day, the sky let loose. What really makes this day memorable, though, is the news my teammates and I received. Regionals was to be cancelled due to the uproarious spread of the swine flu. I and the only other senior on the team were more than disappointed and upset. I was supposed to recline to the locker room for the remainder of the period, but I couldn't ignore the enormous black clouds covering the sky above the school. I ran. By the end of the run, I looked like I had run through a waterfall. It was priceless.

One other thing about running in the rain: the shower after is AMAZING. Warm water, soap to wash away the stickiness (if you live in Texas or other humid states), and the comfort of clean, dry clothes to follow. I'm waiting patiently for the next time I get to enjoy this purifying experience.

Pray for rain

Burn Out

Since the seventh grade, I have never not loved running (there are some exceptions to the double negative rule). I have, however, stopped enjoying it on occasion. The first time I recall feeling burned out is my junior year of high school. I dreaded track practice in the afternoons; bitterness set in; progress was negatively affected. I remember thinking to myself, "I don't want to quit, but I need a break."

That season ended with nothing to be proud of, no excitement. I took about a week off for the summer, and then relearned how to enjoy an early morning run. The next year of running would come to be my favorite and most successful (though it ended in some disappointment).

My first year of college depended on cross country and track. Having something to do in the afternoons and on weekends helped to take my mind off of homesickness. It was my worst year of running yet, but I appreciate it like a blind dog appreciates odor. Slowly, though, I've become a bit burned out again. More than a bit, actually. I want to run, and I want to win; I love a good run and a good sweat. But I am not looking forward to this upcoming season. There are other things I'd like to do instead, other priorities that I want to move to the top of the list, but can't because of a contract. It's been a struggle to stay positive about my situation, but I have to trust that, even if I don't enjoy a minute on the course or road this season, I have some purpose there. More importantly, I am trying to re-spark my passion for running. That is one reason I started this blog, to be honest.  Running has become a way of life for me, as it is for many runners. I neither want to give up on it, nor continue down this road without even enjoying the smells.

Gotta run...

Making it hurt

Let me start by explaining the title of this blog: Making it hurt. If you're an athlete, the concept should come quite easily to you (even if you're not, it should still come easily). When you train, how do you know that you are progressing? How do you know that what you are doing is working? As a runner, I gauge my progress by pain. Not injurious pain, but muscle fatigue, heaviness when I breathe, side cramps, etc. When my abs hurt, I know that the core work I did the day before was successful. When my biceps are sore, I can assume the dumbbells I lifted have left a positive effect. When my calves are tight, the hills I ran yesterday must have impacted me.

I motivate myself by remembering that pain is necessary. To get stronger, it is a requirement. I even have a tattoo on my wrist to remind me during a race (I guess my parents can finally know about that one. Sorry, Mom and Dad.). Make it hurt. When I'm feeling tired and considering "tripping" over the next rock I see, Make it Hurt comes into play. Success does not come easily; if I want to improve, I know I must endure some degree of pain. In fact, it's time to go make it hurt some more. Peace.