And So It Goes

I don’t know about you, but in the midst of all this unpredictability (i.e. madness), I’ve needed to keep some sense of structure, however loose, to my days. I've tried to shape how my days start and end, so that whatever happens in between, and god only knows, is more manageable (i.e. will not trigger a panic attack). So my every day starts with 45 minutes of yoga and ends with a run or a bike ride. Of course, it’s a bit crazy to ever think we actually control anything. Still, we keep trying. 

Since the sun now sets at 4pm in Maine, this week I’ve been getting in a few morning runs, changing my routine a bit. This past week, I’ve been on roads, and I don’t like roads. But it’s never a good idea to predict how a run is going to go before actually going on a run. You never know how it’s going to turn out, and that’s what we love about it.

Gorham roads

It was tough getting out the door on Tuesday. The temps were in the teens, and I wanted to run for at least an hour with some hill strides at the end. I was also dreading our neighborhood’s loose dogs who like to chase. But I got out the door without overthinking it. Just get out the door! After about half a mile, I settled into a nice, easy pace for a little over 5 miles, then found a good hill for my strides. All in all, a very uneventful, but surprisingly pleasant 6ish-miler. 

On Wednesday, I knew I had to do some hill work. My running plan had me down for some warm-up and cool down running, with 4x3-minute hills. A 3-minute hill is a surprisingly long hill, and not that easy to find, unless you’re running up a mountain. My 3-minute hill is at an odd location almost in downtown Gorham, in front of residential homes. But it’s a great hill, and it has a sidewalk, so I won’t get hit by cars. I’m pretty sure the people whose houses I run in front of think I’m insane. 

I don’t think I’d be exaggerating by saying that running hills can be life-changing - not just in making you a stronger runner but also by helping you settle your mind. The first hill repeat is always the hardest for me. My mind is still thinking about this idea of running hills - how hard it is, how many more I have to do - but by the second hill I’m only focusing on running up that one hill. All I need to do at that particular moment in my life is run up that one hill. That’s it, nothing else. And that is an awesome place to be. That very simple thought can change your entire outlook on how you go about the rest of your day. Unfortunately, the more I run hills, the less I’m capable of multi-tasking. 

A 3-minute hill

Thursday was a bike day, and since it was dark by the time I could get on the bike, I went for an indoor bike run. I had a horrible headache and hot flashes all day (hello menopause!), but I’ve learned that just because you feel crappy doesn’t mean your workout will be bad. You just start, and see where you end up. I got in about 11 slow miles, but my body was grateful for the movement after sitting in front of a computer all day. 

I wanted to get in an early morning run on Friday, but work got in the way of things, so I ended up on the treadmill for a little under an hour, watching Emily in Paris, which is the worst possible show ever that I couldn’t stop watching. There’s not much to say here really. 

Emily in Paris - worst show ever

Today is Saturday, and I’m going to get outside for a hike with Huckleberry, our beagle. I have about 8 hours of light to work with, which feels luxurious. 

I’ve been looking forward to tomorrow all week, finally getting to the trails. I’m hoping for a long group run, but either way, I’ll run for at least two hours. Soon I’ll be running a little longer again every Sunday. 

And so it goes. Meanwhile, Trump's lawyers are trying to create new states (have you heard? New-Nevada and New-California?). We hope Maine will get enough vaccines. We hope the vaccines won’t have too many side effects. We hope people will finally start wearing masks. We hope we’ll soon be able to hug our friends again, and travel, and eat out at restaurants, and go see a band. Until then, we’ll keep running (or walking or swimming or whatever it is that you do), because we need to keep trying. It’s the one thing we can do.   

Coming of Age at 50

I will tell you this: I wish this running life could have happened 30 years ago. But here we are. I came to running early this year - the last year in my 40s. Before this, my only athletic endeavor consisted of a short time playing soccer when I was 11 through 13, and much of that time consisted of sitting on the bench, because I just wasn’t very good. I have never been athletic (doctors liked to describe me as ‘frail’). I spent the better part of my 20s and 30s drinking, smoking, reading and writing, and occasionally doing a little yoga. From time to time, we would go on short hikes. I remember many years ago hiking Mount Washington and bursting into tears because it was “so hard.” I want to smack that girl right now! As a wise woman once said: Harden the fuck up!

It’s strange to become a “serious” trail runner just as you’re about to turn 50, especially if you’ve never been anything but a very average, non-athletic woman. It feels like you’re coming of age just as you ‘re entering the second part of your life. It feels odd, sort of like going in reverse. And it feels counter-intuitive to have lofty goals for a sport whose windows of opportunity become a little smaller as you get older. 

I am surrounded by a group of ultra-runners who are still peaking in their 50s, 60s and beyond, and I am so, so inspired by their achievements and who they are as human beings (I do believe that ultra-running makes you a better person - and I’m only half joking). I am reminded, however, of our different experiences - most have a lifetime of running under their 100-miler belt buckles. 

Still, I ran my first 50K a few months ago, and I can’t remember the last time I felt more acutely that I was exactly where I needed to be. And, yes, I want to run a 50-miler and I probably also want to run a 100-miler, and I hope my body can take me there. But I also feel like time is short and running out, and there is so much more running I want to do. Because in truth I don’t just want to run one 50-miler or one 100-miler, I want a lifetime to run as much as I want.

But here we are. The beginning of a new journey in the middle of my life journey. I know that to stay joyful in this adventure is not to look back at all the things I could have done or didn’t do, but to look forward at all the possibilities that lie ahead. And because I am coming of age in my middle age, I am making this up as I go along. I’m excited, kind of giddy really (like the teenage girl that comes out to play when I am running - a Buffy the Vampire Slayer kind of teenage girl!). After all, this discovery is a gift that’s filled holes I didn’t know were there, and I am forever grateful for every running moment that’s in front of me.