Do Something With a Finish Line

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was a late-in-life runner. In fact, I never managed to run a mile until after my 30th birthday. And even that took most of a month to work up to. Over the next couple years, I became a frequent (although still struggling) runner. I maxed out around 5 miles and would frequently compare myself negatively to the other (real) runners on the trails.

And then my world collapsed.

For months, I avoided the trails, afraid of passing out in the middle of the woods from lack of sleep and nutrition. Instead, I took to the treadmill, where I figured at least there would be people to attend to me if I suddenly lost consciousness. I had to start over again – my first treadmill runs were well under a mile. But still, it felt good to move even in a limited manner.

Just a few short weeks after the tsunami, a friend at work mentioned a half marathon that October (less three months away). I had never run more than 5 miles and that was several weeks prior. And I have never even considered a race of any duration. I was still in shock from the trauma of the abandonment and I was still extremely weak from the twenty pounds I shed in the those first few days.

I had no business running 13.1 miles.

And so I signed up.

 

One of the most frequent pieces of advice I give to people that are in the middle of a major life transition is to sign up for something with a finish line. It can be running. Or walking. Or biking. Or swimming. It doesn’t even necessarily have to be a physical endeavor, just something with a defined end.

 

Why do I advise adding one more challenge to an already challenging time?

Here’s why.

– Life’s transitions are messy. The end may be undefined and vague. It may be months or even years in the future. While that goal may feel impossible, a literal finish line does not. It exists at a known time and place. You can train for it. You can cross it.

– Training provides structure at a time when all you want to to is hide under the covers and disappear. It gives you a reason to get up and a reason to get out.

– Exercise is as good for the mind as it is for the body.

– The preparation and the even can be social or allow time for solitude. Both are needed in times of life stress.

– Training teaches you to become comfortable with discomfort. It has an end yet requires that you learn to accept the process.

– Challenges provide opportunity to practice tempering expectations. No matter how much you train, you cannot control the outcome. It’s a lesson in acceptance.

– Confidence comes from achievement. When you cross that finish line, you’ll have the courage and conviction to keep aiming for the finish line of your life transition.

 

I ran that half marathon on a cold, rainy day. It wasn’t fast and it wasn’t pretty. But it was perfect. Tears mixed with rain as I ran the last hundred yards to the finish line.

I still didn’t know when the finish line of my divorce would be.

But after that day, I trusted that I could make it.

Marathon Recap: I Won :)

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Injured, tired, and happy

Reposted in honor of National Running Day:)

No, not in terms of time. In fact, technically, it was the worst race I’ve ever run. I’m sure you’d have to scroll though thousands of pages to even find my finish time. But that was never what it was about. I completed the 26.2 miles while having an amazing time running (and walking) through a beautiful city on a gorgeous day with awesome people and (mostly) good music and I crossed the finish line into the arms of an unbelievable man. I’d say I won the race:)

When I got into the car (very) early yesterday morning, my boyfriend handed me several folded notes, each with a mileage indicator. I was to open the notes along my run. It was like an advent calendar of marathon motivation. Unbelievable. That gesture and those notes set the tone for the whole day.

A little crumpled and sweat stained, but they’re still beautiful to me:)

I spent the drive to the start line arranging Gu, chapstick, and the above mentioned notes. I applied Glide wherever skin met fabric and I double-checked my shoe laces. I was ready.

I had over two hours to wait at the corrals before the race. It was chilly, but bearable, and I loved the look of historic Savannah under the almost-full moon. I met a woman in her 60’s who was working on running 100 marathons (this was 94). I asked her what her favorite one had been. Number two on her list blew me away: The Great Wall of China. What an amazing experience that would be!

We finally took off. I was feeling great and enjoying the music (especially the bagpipes around mile 6!) and the amazing support from the spectators. The local people were amazing – dancing, singing, and even blessing us as we ran by. The energy was infectious. And so was the motivation. Every person there had a reason for running marathons or that race in particular. As the Rock n Roll series raises money for cancer, there were thousands of runners with signs on their backs of loved ones they had lost. Others ran for different losses. I met many recent divorcees, people who ran to celebrate their recovery, and one woman who runs a marathon a year to maintain and celebrate her 160 lb weight loss.  It was impossible to not be inspired.

Mile 7 was my game-changer. I injured my IT band almost two years doing Tough Mudder (and a 1/2 marathon the next weekend). I rehabed it and it hasn’t bothered me much in the past year or so. Until yesterday, that is. I felt the familiar pain and pull along the outside of my left leg. I spent a few miles using anything at my disposal to try to coax the fascia into loosening. I repeatedly used traffic cones to dig into the soft tissue and I even borrowed a broom from a volunteer so that I could roll my IT band with the handle. It wasn’t helping, nor was the Tylenol, ice, and wrap from the medical tent. By about mile 12, I had given up on this being the race I wanted. I realized that the leg would not get better and that my ability to run was severely hindered. Those were the tough miles. I gripped the 15 mile note from my boyfriend from mile 12 until it was time to open it. At that point, the course took us through the Savannah State campus and even around their track where the dance team and cheerleaders encouraged us on. That was great timing. As my pace slowed, I found myself amongst the running wounded and the more mature marathoners. That was okay with me. There is a spirit there in the back of the pack that felt right to me. I met a great man, Dennis, at the 24 mile marker. He was also hurting and, like me, was slowly giving up running in favor of walking. He said he would pull me across the finish line if I did the same for him. We both made it, limping and grinning.

Going into this race, I knew that it was going to be a mental game. I think it’s impossible to tackle that kind of distance and not have to dig into to your mental reserves. What surprised me; however, is that the race was very emotional. I first teared up at mile 5 at the kind words of a volunteer. From that point on, the tears hit every mile or so for just a few moments. The waterworks continued into the afternoon and evening as I recounted pieces of the race to my boyfriend and they even sit near the surface today. I’m not a crier and not prone to over-emotion, so this has been a surprise.

At the finish line. Finally!

The marathon was more symbolic of life and its struggles than I expected, as well. I went into the race expecting to run. I didn’t plan on the injury, but once it occurred, I had no choice but to accept it. I could have given up. In fact, there were times when the pain was so bad, I wanted to simply collapse where I was. But instead, I chose to continue. It wasn’t the journey I planned for, but it was a beautiful experience nonetheless. In my life, I never expected to be divorced. I didn’t plan for that injury either. But just like yesterday, I had a choice. And I chose to continue and even though it is not the life I anticipated, it is beautiful. Yup, I’d say I won:)

And, on a related note, I was happy to hear on Friday evening that mayor Bloomberg decided to cancel the New York marathon for this weekend. I understand the frustration of planning (and training, in the case of the runners) for so long and having to cancel at the last minute, but it was the right thing to do. And, as I’ve learned, marathoners understand that you can plan and prepare all you want, but that ultimately, you cannot control the outcome. I have the utmost respect for the runners who are using their pre-purchased trips to NY to assist in storm relief. You may not have run your race, but you certainly deserve a medal in my eyes.

S(mile) Markers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

In my marathon recap post, I mentioned something that my boyfriend had done that helped get me through the difficult moments in the race. Before he left to park the car, he handed me a stack of 6 notes, each with a mile printed on the outside. I was instructed to open and read each one at the indicated time. The notes were simple, yet those few words of love and encouragement propelled me through the pain and gave purpose to the race which kept me from giving up. They were my smile markers, as eagerly anticipated as an advent calendar at Christmas for a little kid.

photo-113
They may be crumpled and sweat stained, but they will never be thrown away!

I was telling a mutual friend about these notes the other day and I realized that the concept could be applied in a much broader way. I know in the early days of my divorce, the support from friends and family was overwhelming. I received calls, emails, letters, and cards. Everyone wanted to help, but no one knew exactly how. As is only natural, as time moved on, the contact waned. Life is busy and we all get distracted. I was in a better place, but like the miles in a marathon, I had thoughts of quitting along the journey of the divorce.

If you know someone who is undergoing a divorce or other difficult transition in their life, create smile markers for them. Maybe print the dates of challenging anniversaries or important milestones on the outside. On the inside, write messages of friendship, love, shared memories, inspiration, and hope. Give them the entire stack at once; knowing that you have a gift in the future helps to persevere through any ugliness in the present.

If you are the one in a difficult transition, share this idea with friends and family when they ask how they can help you. They want to help; they just don’t know how. You can also create your own messages, gather quotes and pictures that bring you joy and peace and place them in envelopes with important or difficult dates printed on the outside. Even though you do not have the element of surprise, simply opening a blessing in midst of pain will still bring a smile.

When journeys feel too immense to ever complete, they are best broken up into smaller treks. Why not mark each one with a smile marker? 🙂

34489_134209579940672_100000548926614_269972_6229830_n

Marathon Recap: I Won :)

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Injured, tired, and happy

No, not in terms of time. In fact, technically, it was the worst race I’ve ever run. I’m sure you’d have to scroll though thousands of pages to even find my finish time. But that was never what it was about. I completed the 26.2 miles while having an amazing time running (and walking) through a beautiful city on a gorgeous day with awesome people and (mostly) good music and I crossed the finish line into the arms of an unbelievable man. I’d say I won the race:)

When I got into the car (very) early yesterday morning, my boyfriend handed me several folded notes, each with a mileage indicator. I was to open the notes along my run. It was like an advent calendar of marathon motivation. Unbelievable. That gesture and those notes set the tone for the whole day.

A little crumpled and sweat stained, but they’re still beautiful to me:)

I spent the drive to the start line arranging Gu, chapstick, and the above mentioned notes. I applied Glide wherever skin met fabric and I double-checked my shoe laces. I was ready.

I had over two hours to wait at the corrals before the race. It was chilly, but bearable, and I loved the look of historic Savannah under the almost-full moon. I met a woman in her 60’s who was working on running 100 marathons (this was 94). I asked her what her favorite one had been. Number two on her list blew me away: The Great Wall of China. What an amazing experience that would be!

We finally took off. I was feeling great and enjoying the music (especially the bagpipes around mile 6!) and the amazing support from the spectators. The local people were amazing – dancing, singing, and even blessing us as we ran by. The energy was infectious. And so was the motivation. Every person there had a reason for running marathons or that race in particular. As the Rock n Roll series raises money for cancer, there were thousands of runners with signs on their backs of loved ones they had lost. Others ran for different losses. I met many recent divorcees, people who ran to celebrate their recovery, and one woman who runs a marathon a year to maintain and celebrate her 160 lb weight loss.  It was impossible to not be inspired.

Mile 7 was my game-changer. I injured my IT band almost two years doing Tough Mudder (and a 1/2 marathon the next weekend). I rehabed it and it hasn’t bothered me much in the past year or so. Until yesterday, that is. I felt the familiar pain and pull along the outside of my left leg. I spent a few miles using anything at my disposal to try to coax the fascia into loosening. I repeatedly used traffic cones to dig into the soft tissue and I even borrowed a broom from a volunteer so that I could roll my IT band with the handle. It wasn’t helping, nor was the Tylenol, ice, and wrap from the medical tent. By about mile 12, I had given up on this being the race I wanted. I realized that the leg would not get better and that my ability to run was severely hindered. Those were the tough miles. I gripped the 15 mile note from my boyfriend from mile 12 until it was time to open it. At that point, the course took us through the Savannah State campus and even around their track where the dance team and cheerleaders encouraged us on. That was great timing. As my pace slowed, I found myself amongst the running wounded and the more mature marathoners. That was okay with me. There is a spirit there in the back of the pack that felt right to me. I met a great man, Dennis, at the 24 mile marker. He was also hurting and, like me, was slowly giving up running in favor of walking. He said he would pull me across the finish line if I did the same for him. We both made it, limping and grinning.

Going into this race, I knew that it was going to be a mental game. I think it’s impossible to tackle that kind of distance and not have to dig into to your mental reserves. What surprised me; however, is that the race was very emotional. I first teared up at mile 5 at the kind words of a volunteer. From that point on, the tears hit every mile or so for just a few moments. The waterworks continued into the afternoon and evening as I recounted pieces of the race to my boyfriend and they even sit near the surface today. I’m not a crier and not prone to over-emotion, so this has been a surprise.

At the finish line. Finally!

The marathon was more symbolic of life and its struggles than I expected, as well. I went into the race expecting to run. I didn’t plan on the injury, but once it occurred, I had no choice but to accept it. I could have given up. In fact, there were times when the pain was so bad, I wanted to simply collapse where I was. But instead, I chose to continue. It wasn’t the journey I planned for, but it was a beautiful experience nonetheless. In my life, I never expected to be divorced. I didn’t plan for that injury either. But just like yesterday, I had a choice. And I chose to continue and even though it is not the life I anticipated, it is beautiful. Yup, I’d say I won:)

And, on a related note, I was happy to hear on Friday evening that mayor Bloomberg decided to cancel the New York marathon for this weekend. I understand the frustration of planning (and training, in the case of the runners) for so long and having to cancel at the last minute, but it was the right thing to do. And, as I’ve learned, marathoners understand that you can plan and prepare all you want, but that ultimately, you cannot control the outcome. I have the utmost respect for the runners who are using their pre-purchased trips to NY to assist in storm relief. You may not have run your race, but you certainly deserve a medal in my eyes.

 

Two-Faced July

Posted on by stilllearning2b

July has the potential for being ugly to me.  July is the month of tough anniversaries, from the last full day I spent with my husband (7/4/09) to the last embrace with my husband (early morning 7/5/09) to the day my marriage ended (7/11/09) and the aftermath.  Oh, the bloody aftermath. As these dates spin around on the calendar once again, it is impossible not to have them chafe.

That is only one of July’s faces; however. July has become a month of wonderful memories these last few years as my boyfriend (dubbed “Sir Beef” by one of my readers) and I have embraced the activities of the summer.  One of my favorites of these is the Peachtree Road Race, a 10K held every July 4 in Atlanta that welcomes 60,000 runners and about as many support personal and spectators.

This is the second year that Sir Beef and I have run the Peachtree, and it has now become a tradition.  The event is like no other race I have ever done.  You have everything from the elite Kenyans who complete the entire 6.2 miles in under 30 minutes (yup, that is sub 5 minute miles!) to ten-year-old kids running with their families.  Some people take it seriously and compete for time; others take part in keg stands along the way. I love running along side (and around!  there is quite a bit of zigging and zagging!) so many people with different backgrounds and stories that lead them to this race.  I always overhear conversations about people using this event to encourage their wellness journeys as they work to lose significant amounts of weight.  Others have run this race for 20 consecutive years and can tell you about the history of the event.  There are always a large number of current and former troops on the course and the support for them is deafening.

Before (not stinky)
After (with that “not so fresh” feeling)

Apart from the energy of the larger community, I enjoy participating with Sir Beef.  He makes me proud as he encourages slower runners up “Heart Attack Hill” or give a fist-bump to a kid running his first race.  He almost made me cry last year when he slowed down in the last few tenths of mile to run alongside a troop who was struggling in full fatigues in the heat and humidity.  That’s my boy:)  I love the encouraging kiss we share at the start line and the sweaty uncoordinated one mid-run.  I especially love that we cross the finish line together, hand in hand.

After the race, we chowed down (love me some veggie nachos!) and we took the beast to dog park so that he could get some exercise too.

As I continue to layer memories like these over the pain of three years ago, the painful past fades and is replaced with smiles and hope for the future. I like this face of July a whole lot better:)  And, now, all I have to say is, “Go Braves!”

Love my family:)