Seven Miles

Tuesdays are my long run days. This past Tuesday I did 7 miles. One thing about being out on the road running, once you go 3 and 1/2 miles in one direction, there's only one way home, unless you call a taxi. This is where I want to remind you, I am not a runner, remember at all times, I've never been a runner, and please never forget for over half my life, I hated running.
There have been so many people who have helped me literally learn how to run. I have painfully learned that running doesn't come naturally to everyone and not everyone's body is designed to run. It's taken several months for me to feel comfortable in my form and I still battle daily to sustain that form. Thanks to Jason McKellar and his direction to study Chi running my form has gotten much better. This has been the greatest advice I've gotten thus far and it's made such a difference in my endurance, my overall speed and my self-confidence.
However, I have to laugh when I read what I just wrote, because to the average joe who passes me out on the road, I look like one of those fat slow sedentary joggers plodding down the road! I definitely look like an old woman trying to run. I try not to look at myself if ever I pass anything that can reveal my true form. I think it's a ghastly sight.
Monday night I was apprehensive about Tuesday's run. I didn't sleep well in anticipation of the agony of trying to run seven miles. I'm not joking when I use the word "agony." When I run it takes every ounce of stamina I have and it's not easy by any means. In fact most of the time it's just down right torture. Things always grow bigger in my head than they should and for some reason I fretted all night long about the distance.
After looking at the clock, getting up wasn't hard since sleep was no where to be found in me. I dressed and plugged in my ear phones. Just before I headed out the door some little voice gave instruction. Thankfully I listened to it and stuck some GU chomps in my pocket. The Lord is always helping me, even in trivial matters like running. It was just a little after six when my feet met the road. I started my stopwatch and so it began.
The soft early morning light was beautiful. Maybe this is what drives me to run. Something in my soul loves the road, the resistance as my feet strike the pebbles buried in the tar, the lack of barriers, the lack of confinement, the wind sooner or later at my back, the sun always high above me. I love the exhaustion when my heart is pounding. I love the efforting, the challenge to conquer parts of myself that resist being altered.
I busted my butt the first mile and was pleased with my time. The second mile was ok but the third mile started to wear on me a bit. I nearly got plucked off by two yellow school busses speeding past and contemplated finding a new route for future long runs. I was happy when it was time to turn my frame around and head towards home. Now my feat were feeling the road. They felt heavy, and my muscles were pleading with me to stop or at least slow down. As I passed through the river bottoms I noticed my shadow. It was a mile long, stretched out to the west of me. The dark figure was a stark contrast against the green alfalfa now a glow with the morning dew. I spoke to it, something like, "Get a move on it would ya?" I noted how much I love the earth, how much I love nature.
It wasn't long though when I realized I was growing tired fast. That's  when the little seeds of discouragement started to enter into my head. Thoughts like, "I've got to go all the way home, and I"m getting slower not faster." quickly took root. Stark condemnations started to flow, "What in the hell were you thinking, signing up for this?" Then as always, that familiar voice that knows me, loves me and understands my plight whispered, "You can do this!" It reminded me of the GU in my pocket and encouraged me to use it. I hadn't brought any water and I needed to wash it down. My mind immediately thought of Fremont and the water fountains. I was only a half mile away. I pulled out the Gu chomps and shoved them in one after another until the whole bag had been consumed. I finished the last gummy chomp as I crossed the parking lot. I headed for the school, pried open the big heavy doors, ran my way through a million kids changing classes, found the nearest fountain, drank like a fish and bolted out the back door with a new attitude.
"I can do this!" "I will do this!" became my mantra until the GU kicked in and it wasn't long until I rounded the the last familiar corner leaving me only one mile left to go. As I finally approached my house, I cut the time on my stopwatch, noted how long seven miles took and tried not to think about how pathetically slow I am as I walked up and down my driveway with the aches and pains now forming in my hamstrings and the rest of my lower limbs. I kept telling myself, "It takes a long time to learn to be good at something." I wondered why this is so hard to remember? And I thought about how I've been trying to run for almost one year now and questioned, "Should it take this long?"
The rest of the day, I was tired, down, ornery, and discouraged. Why do I dwell in the negative? At one point during the day I sat on the kitchen bar stool and couldn't hold back the tears of discouragement. Man With A Drill came home that night and reminded me of all the good I've experienced. He reminded me that walking two miles takes him three times longer than me running seven.
In the scheme of life, being 53 and running a half marathon really isn't earth shattering. Some people might even ask why all the bother, after all lots of people have done it. But somehow this goal I set one year ago is a personal challenge that lies deep within, and is a challenge no one understands but me. It encompasses a powerful experience I traveled through a year ago. It is tied to my goal I set of strengthening my own personal self both physically, mentally and spiritually and it is meant to be a learning experience that will teach me in ways nothing else can.
All of us have our own inward personal mountains to climb. There are characteristics embedded in my being that make this goal of running a half marathon a unique challenge personally for me. And there is something extraordinarily powerful about learning to discipline myself!
Everyday running is more than just physical, it is always mental, always spiritual, and attacks the lazy that lies within.
It took me a week to write this, but I want to record the challenge. the emotions, the experience. Tomorrow is Tuesday. (Uuuugh) I'm going to remain optimistic. That's my goal for the day.