Category: running

an upturned tree

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Up in the Adirondacks, Sunday morning, I was sipping coffee before my family woke up. I was crabby because I’d have to rally the troops, pack up, leave the country, return to the city, get ready for the week ahead. Even writing in my journal didn’t work the usual magic of lifting my mood.

So I went for a run. I watched the fitness app on my phone, noticing that I was still unable to run faster than a 13-minute mile. Yes, I was in the slow lane; my feet hurt. And I couldn’t get enough breath. I tired easily.

I ran for five minutes, then walked for a minute. Then did that again. The first part of the run was easy. I passed the school house. Then it was wet so I looped around the Cold Spring Road instead of going down to the Stable Inn. I began the walk up the rough-hewn stone steps to the Big House. That’s when I saw this upturned tree.

Hard to capture in a dark, rainy forest, but this wide swath of trees and roots were upturned by Hurricane Irene.

Un-be-liev-able! It took my breath away.

If some special effects geek tried to recreate this 10-foot circumference of a sideways forest floor, it would cost millions of dollars and people would never believe it. But nature did this outstanding damage free of charge. Nature is whack, doing crazy shit. Hurricane Irene must’ve tore up this part of the woods as she tore through Vermont and the Adirondacks a month ago.

I gave up running, walked up the steps back to the house, packed and woke the darlings. I wasn’t crabby any more.

For some reason the extraordinary sight of the upturned tree calmed me down.

Today people are contemplating Steve Jobs’ death. And I’m remembering the upturned tree.

We all will die. I will die. I am small. Whether my death comes by cancer like Steven Jobs, by hurricane like the forest floor, or my personal preference, by old age, I will die. Running away from my troubles on a dreary Sunday morning made me remember that. And it humbled me and made me less crabby.

Running Without a Soundtrack

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The silence running in the country was deafening.

I could not find my head phones. I usually run with ear buds listening to Pandora and the Omar Shariff sound-alike who calculates the distance of my run on my Cardio Trainer app.

I like running to Britney Spears songs like Piece of Me or Pat Benatar’s Hit Me with Your Best Shot. I think, “Yay, world, hit me. Try getting a piece of this.”

I know, I know. I am delirious after just five minutes of running, wondering, Is it time to take that well-deserved water break or walk yet? The music keeps me going.

So running without Britney, Pat or Omar, I felt a twinge of loneliness. The steadiest sound was the scraping labor of my own breath. Then the silence came alive.

running on a country road

There was a cawing of a crow, an old Buick rounding a corner, the wind swishing the hay in the field, and in the mix, my breath.

My breath was just a speck on the country road. Running helps you figure out where you fit in, a small piece in a big picture.

For this epiphany I rewarded myself by slowing down and walking.

Loehmann’s Fitting Room

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There’s nothing like a visit to Loehmann’s communal fitting room to motivate you to work out!

That’s what I was thinking last night  as I was trying on summer dresses, bras, and, bathing suits in Loehmann’s changing space — you can’t really call it a room. A room implies there are boundaries. And boundaries are in short supply.

At one point the friendly gal beside me reached over to straighten my twisted bra strap. That rattled me. But I laughed, “Gotta get a new sports bra ’cause after looking in the mirrors here, I gotta work out!”

“Oh, nothing new for me — I’ve had weight problems my whole life,” she told me. “I’m shopping for clothes for my new job. My first real job!”

“Congrats! Hey those are cute!” I pointed to her black pants.

That’s an unwritten rule in the communal fitting room — you can compliment an outfit, but  you can’t criticize it. And apparently you can straighten one another’s bra straps.

Although I was embarrassed by every one seeing every part of me, one consolation is that I can see every one too. (Not that I looked. I’m just sayin’!)

I tried to keep my eyes and my body to my little space, trying on four out of the five dresses hanging on the hook. All a bit snug.

I hope it’s not bragging to tell you that on most of my visits to the fitting room, just about every single item looks great on me. But not so last night.

Although the red dress, the last one, worked.

In the cashier line I barely recognized my fitting room mate with her clothes on.

I said, “Hey, I’m getting the red dress!”

“Great!” She smiled, happy for me. There’ s nothing like the banter about purchases and camaraderie between women who’ve been naked together.

“Good luck with your new job!”

“Good night!”

This morning I woke before the family and I ran for 18 minutes. I think I went a mile. Then I picked up bagels.

Foot Pain

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I had major foot pain — on my heel and now on my big toe knuckle.

It hurt so badly that I woke in the night wincing. So a few mornings ago, I went to the podiatrist. Dr. Rottenberg thinks it might be a running injury or the early stages of arthritis. It is also, as I self-diagnosed, plantar fisciitis. She gave me steroid pads and anti-inflammatory pills to take nightly. I’ll go back in a week.

Dr. Rottenberg advised me to stop running or I will have to have surgery within the next two years. So after my huge HUGE success of running a 5K. Yes, a 5K without stopping. I’m being a little sarcastic, but also, yes, I’m proud of myself — I came in 150th in my age group (out of 180). I think I have to find a new sport. I need to do something for cardio.

I ride my bike almost every day in nice weather, but the bike has really failed me. One of the pedal’s fell off and the bike’s just given up on life. (See last year’s post on how my bike fell in love: http://runningaground.wordpress.com/2010/07/15/damn-you-gary-fisher/) I’ll probably get a new bike. That’ll be good.

Swimming might be good. I love the smell of chlorine. (I know, I know, it’s not good.) And I LOVE taking a steam bath after swimming. The steam room’s a great place to pray and think and simply be.

A couple of days a week, there’s also my workplace Pilates and Yoga classes. I love these. But they’re so woven into the fabric of my life that they don’t feel like I’m doing much. But as my gorgeous podiatrist Dr. Rottenberg said, “They’re the best.” Yet they’re not cardio. In college I loved Afro-Caribbean dance. Maybe I’ll go back to that. I love tennis, but that’s probably hard on the feet too.

Oh, one more thing, the doctor advised me to stay off high heels. Easy for her to say. (She got to wear them!) I like a little height. I like a little run. I like feeling healthy and fit.

Am Running Today

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This is my least favorite part of the day, waking the children. It’s drizzling and it’s Sunday. They’re not excited about today’s 5K at 9 am. A part of me does wonder, Why am I making them and myself run? It’s a huge hassle and I’d rather stay in bed with the New York Times.

I want us to run, because I know we will feel euphoric when we finish. We will have set and then exceeded some small goal. Life rarely offers opportunities to chart your progress.

I remember the first time I took my son ice skating in Central Park. The first time he went around the rink, he fell eight times. The second time around the rink, he fell two times. And after that, he hardly fell at all. That is how it goes. Take them out and let them fall. And soon they will stand and even skate and run on their own. And there’s some pride in that.

Wish me luck in waking my darlings, in finding running shoes, and in getting to the race on time. It’s not easy, but I believe, somehow, it will be worth it. If we just cross the finish line, we will have won.

http://www.nyrr.org/races/2010/r0307x00.asp

running helps handle my nightmares

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Today at lunch time, I ran with David, my coworker. We ran for 29 minutes, about 2.5 miles. That’s double what I did January 30th, two and a half weeks ago. I love progress.

Yesterday was crazy busy — judging a writing contest, attending a lunch time book club, meeting my daughters’ teachers, watching my son’s swim meet, getting on a conference call, then showing up for my online writing class at 9 pm.

This morning I woke up sweaty. I dreamed I was carrying a baby in one arm and a stack of papers in another. I was crossing from one apartment to another, stepping next to an open elevator shaft. I had that scared-of-heights feeling. I dropped the papers, but not the baby, several stories down. The baby and I watched papers fall slowly, beautifully, like in a movie.

Then I chatted with a friend in my apartment. I left the baby alone in the hallway. I suddenly thought, “I hope the baby girl doesn’t play too close to the air shaft.” Then I thought, “She’ll just have to learn her lesson.”

I think the dream was a way for my unconscious to work out the fact that I carry too much. The dream was a reminder that I need to learn my lesson too. In dreams, we are all the characters and symbols — like, I am the baby, the friend, the air shaft, the sheaf of papers. There are times when my writing, my papers, my parenting, my work, my life gets away from me, falling like the papers down the air shaft. I carry too much.

The only thing I carry when I run is my phone so I can watch my CardioTrainer app and see how far I’ve gone and whether it’s time to go from a run to a walk. See, I’m still doing that 5 minutes of running and then 1 minute of walking routine. It’s good to pace myself.

Now, if I could only figure out how to pace myself in my life outside of running. Is there an app for that?

Just Do It

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I am a fan of gentleness. I should write a book about the gentle approach. I try to be easy on everyone — forgiving and kind. Especially myself. But not with running. I can’t be. I have to be unforgiving and unkind.

I have to just do it. The Nike ad is right. You don’t want to do it. But you have to. Because it works. Seriously.

I got my sorry self out of the house at around 9 yesterday morning, stepping over the kids’ snowpants and my own bad self esteem.

I headed down into Riverside Park to the river. The sidewalk was clear; the snow still clinging to the branches. I ran for 1.1 miles. And it took me 14 minutes! Yes. Beat that!

I stopped for bagels and strawberries for the fam on the way home. I seriously walked into the apartment giddy with happiness.

Running is a mood enhancer. I am going to sign up for a 5K in March with my kids and my coworkers (Join us — http://www.coogans.com/events/).

I am going to run slowly, but I am going to stay in the race. And I’ll be happy when I’m done.

Sunlight Releases Serotonin

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I ran today for the first time in a couple of weeks. I felt horrible. I felt overweight and stupid. I couldn’t find my nylon running shirt so I threw a torn   jean jacket over my baggy velour sweatsuit.

I might run better if I felt more stylish. I know that’s ridiculous but there you have it.

I felt out of shape because I only worked out once this week — one lunchtime Pilates class. I skipped my other class, opting to attend the new book club started by my friend Tracy the librarian at the Interchurch Center.

We discussed The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox by Maggie O’Farrell — really good! And I always love sharing my opinions on a book. My other book club just finished reading Zeitoun by Dave Eggers. Also brilliant.

Any way, when I started in Riverside Park, the sidewalk was hardly cleared. I had to jump over patches of ice and move out of the way of dogs. It was like 30 degrees and windy. I thought, “This is dangerous. I should’ve stayed home with the Times.” (See again, here’s my dilemma — fitness or literature? If only I could read while running.)

But then the sunlight hit me. It’s hard to be grumpy with a face full of sunshine. I felt good. Okay, not stylish, but not pathetic either. I had nobility and purpose in my slow run. I felt proud because I wasn’t totally pathetic. I ran to the end of the 70th Street Pier http://www.riversideparkfund.org/ I remembered running out here in the summer and running on top of this sidewalk art. 

According to my Cardio Trainer app, I ran 1.6 miles in 22 minutes — I know that’s not great, but it’s not nothing.

I think when the sunlight hit, the endorphins kicked in. Or maybe the serotonin — the brain’s natural mood enhancer.

I stopped at a deli on the way home and picked up bagels and blueberries for the family.

Loneliness of the Short-Distance Runner

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I exercised for the first time in two weeks, swimming my eight laps at the Hyatt Regency Hotel in Montreal. I zigzagged kickboards and babies in floaties.

Exercise is my anti-depressant. Swimming made me feel great.

Since my basal cell surgery two weeks ago I’ve had to lay low. I don’t like that. The winter doldroms set in. My overall mood is down if I don’t exercise (or write!)

It is better for everyone if I work out (and write) a few times each a week. So the other night I considered running a 5K on New Year’s Day in Ticonderoga.

I still had a bunch of stitches on my chest (where the basal cell was removed) and was not supposed to exert myself. I didn’t want to pop a stitch like an overstuffed teddy bear (which is how I felt after eating and drinking my way through Christmas). I hesitated. I had a lot of housework to do.

I had to pack up my family after 10 days in the country. That’s at least as much work as running a marathon. I had a cappuccino (also an anti-depressant) and had an idea. 

“Kids, we’re going to have our own race — to the old school house. You could win! It’s a race against me!”

At my 15-minute mile pace, almost anyone could beat me! But my kids are lazy. Yes, they are lazy, lazy, lazy. And it’s my fault. I’ve spoiled them. They’d rather goof off on Facebook than run.

The girls did walk/run for the first five minutes then they turned around and slogged back to their computer screens. It wasn’t even cold.

I had a weird experience as I ran. There was no wind. Yet I heard a flapping near me, like someone snapping clean sheets while making a bed. I looked around. Nothing. Not a breeze. It happened again. I kind of wished I wasn’t alone so I could ask someone, “Did you hear that? Wasn’t that weird?”

The front runner is the lonely (and possibly delusional) runner.

I came back, declaring victory, like Rocky on the steps of Philadelphia. When you’re the only runner, chances are good you’re the big winner! But I received neither a medal or champagne. Instead, I made myself some more coffee and folded the laundry.

3.2 miles in 39 minutes

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Yesterday I ran at lunch time. Riverside Park was so beautiful. The muted oranges and burnt reds of late fall against a Robin Egg blue sky.

On Fridays I am either incredibly productive or slightly lazy. I can push myself. Or I can push paper around my desk, “Well, this can wait until Monday.” 

Unless it’s Friday before a week off! Yes, a week off. And then I must clean off my desk top, water my plants, tie up all my loose ends. Nothing can wait. Everything must get done.

So I was psyched to get away from my desk when Liz facebooked me in the morning about a lunchtime run. We met at Riverside Church, ran down to Fairway and along the new trail beside the Hudson. Then we ran back up at around 99th along the upper promenade.

My last run was with one of my 11 year old daughters last weekend. She joined the Running Club at school. On that run, we kept a pretty good pace. Then she complained of an earache. It was cold.

My experience running with my kids is that they either take off fast ahead of me or slow down to a snail’s pace with an ailment.

Adult friends have outgrown that. Adults can set a pace together. Although Liz and I run, then walk, we always can talk and never run out of things to say. On Friday’s run, the endorphins really kicked in. By the end of our run, I had new ideas for housecleaning, writing and work projects.

I love Friday workouts before a long week off.

Bonus: there’s no guilt if over the weekend, I’m slightly lazy. I have done my work out, thank you very much. Or if Thanksgiving is coming and I can eat as much as I want. Yay.