running

by

The Gobbler

When I started running again, I knew I needed to set a goal or it would be too easy to stop. Since I was using the Couch to 5K app, I decided to look around for a 5K. I was a little nervous about the coming change in seasons, but I set my sights on a local pre-Thanksgiving Day race. It was nearby, and I thought I would be ready by November 23.

I wasn’t ready. As November started, I was nervously checking the training schedule and the calendar. I thought I would be near the middle of week 7 (out of 9 weeks), running about 28 minutes or (with luck) 2.75 miles at a stretch. The problem was, I had committed to substitute teaching for three days around the middle of the month, and I was nervous about running early in the morning those days. I didn’t want to injure myself or so tire myself out that I couldn’t teach. Commitments in the evenings meant it would be difficult to squeeze in a run after working, too. I tried, I really did, but it wasn’t possible. Oh well, I thought, I can run on Saturday and definitely the following Monday and Wednesday, so I can be close to being able to run the distance.

It was not to be. Friday evening, after my third day of subbing, we were driving to a concert, and I could feel my throat starting to hurt, my sinuses filling up, my ears becoming plugged. Uh, oh. Yes, it was a cold, which developed into a sinus infection. I lost two weeks of running, and I did not run the 5K on the 23rd.

A few years ago, a marvelous co-worker, Paula, started an unofficial Thanksgiving Day race 5K, which she named “The Gobbler.” She had emailed the school community about it and posted a sign in the break room. She stressed that it was unofficial: untimed, not a precise 5K distance. I was more nervous about running this, though, than an official race. Among the hundreds gathered for the official race, I didn’t think I would see anyone I knew (and vice versa). I could be faceless, another old amateur showing up for her first race. On the other hand, the local race would have far fewer people. Many of them were the people I had heard talking about running over the summer and fall. They had inspired me, and I love them for it, but they are serious runners. I knew that I wouldn’t be up to their speed, and I didn’t want to be embarrassed as I waddled along the course.

I finally decided to show up and run, at least as much as I would be able to run. I had missed at least 5 training sessions, and I wasn’t sure how much the sinus infection had affected me. Still, I decided to try it, knowing that I’d probably need to take a break or two.

I woke up at 3 in the morning with my left ankle aching like crazy. I have no idea why. I wondered if I’d be able to sleep any more, much less run. I did finally get some more sleep, but it still ached when I woke up. Fortunately, the pain eased after some stretches. By the time I put on my running clothes, I was feeling anxious. I wasn’t sure if I could make it, and I didn’t know how the cold weather was going to affect my breathing. I had run a few times in the cold, but usually I ran inside. I also didn’t want anyone to laugh at me, and I could picture several humiliating scenarios from tripping and falling to my ankle giving out and being forced to bum a ride from someone. As I was driving to the starting area, I was so nervous that I was afraid I was going to vomit.

Paula welcomed me with a smile and a hug, went over the route with me, and went on to help the next person. Another friend, the Incomparable Julie, who not only teaches my children but helps me keep a grip on reality, also gave me a hug and cheered me on. “I haven’t run in two weeks,” I moaned. “It’s ok,” she said. “You can walk when you need to.”

It was cold out: approximately 25 degrees. The breeze made it feel colder, and I wondered if my layers were going to be enough. Despite gloves, my fingers were going numb, and I could feel my feet getting cold. I listened to some of the other runners talking. This was a baby race for many of them, not even long enough to satisfy their training regimen. “I already put in a couple of miles,” I heard someone say. “I won’t want to run after dinner today, so I figured I get it in early.”

I was so out of my league.

Paula climbed up on the back of her pickup truck and announced that she would be starting the runners first with the walkers to follow. The amazing thing is that I didn’t even think of starting out walking. I was there to run. I had decided to run with the C25K app, as well, figuring it could count as another training session. As we started out, I pressed the start button on the app, and the voice said, “Brisk walk.” “Oh,” I thought, “I guess I could have started out with the walkers,” but I was already in the pack of runners (near the back, of course), jogging across the street and heading out onto the course.

Julie was running with her two daughters (grades 3 and 5). The jogged past me, and I heard her say, “We can walk if we need to.” I thought that maybe I’d catch up with them once they slowed down, but I didn’t see them again until I made it back to the start.

Two middle school girls jogged past. “We don’t have to run a six-minute mile,” one said to the other. I chuckled grimly. I have never run a six-minute mile, and it’s unlikely that I ever will.

Lots of other people moved past me, but I wasn’t falling completely behind. On the bridge over the highway, with the wind blowing cold, I actually passed a couple of other women. They would pass me a few minutes later, but I felt like I accomplished something to pass anyone. (And I passed them again later and ended up finishing before they did. I admit to feeling a little proud about that.)

I think I ran for about a mile before I needed to walk. I could tell that I had not run in several days, and maybe I was still recovering from my cold. I noticed, though, that I was able to find and keep a rhythm. My stride did not have any of the awkward jolting I had experienced when I had first started running a few months ago. It was a comfortable, if slow, stride. If it weren’t for needing to catch my breath, I could have kept running.

I had to walk twice more, but I finished the course at a jog. Paula passed me a water bottle and told me I did a great job. I started walking around the parking lot to catch my breath. It took a few seconds for me to register that someone was saying “Good job!” to me. It was one of Julie’s daughters. She and her sister were sitting in their car, relaxing after their run, and she was leaning out of the door to smile at me. I stammered thanks and kept walking. I wish I had praised them. What amazing kids.

Julie found me a few moments later and asked to take my picture. She let me wipe my face first, which I appreciated. Running in cold weather makes my nose run. She sent me the picture later, and it looks just like I felt: proud, amazed, happy. Julie asked me if I felt good, and first I said no and laughed, but a few moments later I corrected myself. “Yes,” I said. “It felt good to do it.”

gobbler pic

It did. I was tired for the remainder of the day, and I was in bed by 8:30 that night. I was sore the next day, but I managed to run again today. (I went to the community center and ran on the indoor track. I had to walk twice during this workout, but I am amazed that I could do it at all.) I’m thinking about how I can keep running through the winter, and I look forward to a real race for the spring. I hope by then that I can run the 3.1 miles without having to walk, but if I can’t, that’s ok, too.

by

Running and Praying

I wanted to write a bit more about running, after what I wrote in my last post. It is becoming important to me, in ways I never anticipated.

I started running again about 3 months ago. “Again” refers to the fact that I always liked to run when I was younger: I was on the track team in middle school and high school, and I jogged in college and early married life. I’ve tried to pick it up again over the years, but it was hard and time seemed short. It was easy to find excuses.

This summer, it seemed like I was surrounded by runners. Everywhere I turned, people were talking about running, or their children were running, or their spouses were running. I started to think about it again.

I had heard about the Couch to 5K app, and I decided to try it. Looking at the first few workouts, I thought it seemed easy enough: lots of walking, short time periods of running. I started with my dog, since I typically take her for one or two long walks each day. This did not work well. (See my earlier blog post about the human-canine running experiment.) She is not a running dog, or at least not with me.

The first couple of runs with the app were so difficult. I felt every step jarring through my body: my old, out-of-condition bones and muscles protesting. One wouldn’t think that adding in a few short periods of running would be so difficult. It was. My neck, back, hips, legs, and feet ached.

I gave up after a couple of tries. It was too hard.

But I still kept hearing about people running. At lunch one day, a teacher (whose mother had recently passed away) said, “I remember when my mom couldn’t walk, so I run for her.” As I listened, I could see my mother, in those weeks before she died, when she could not walk, much less run. Then my daughter was complaining about gym class. “We have to run a mile,” she whined, “and the teacher is going to time us.” “A mile?” I said, “That’s not very far.” Then I realized that I couldn’t run a mile in one stretch. Ok, I thought, I can give it another try.

I did. It wasn’t easy to start again after two weeks off, but I did. This time, I didn’t run with the app, I just set shorter goals: run a block, walk two blocks, etc. To my surprise, I could do it, and it didn’t hurt so much afterward. Soon after this, someone mentioned to me that one could use the indoor track at the community center without being a member. As the weather was starting to turn colder, I decided to try there.

It’s a small track: 14 laps to the mile. It doesn’t have much cushioning, but at least it is lighted, climate controlled, and I don’t have to worry about gravel or glass or other hazards on the sidewalk. Better yet: almost everyone I see when I’m there is at least twenty years older than I am. I may not be fast, but I am faster than they are.

So I started again with the app. The stretches of running grew longer, and I was able to run for most of them. I know that I wasn’t pretty. My face turns red when I run, and I am sure that my rear end does not look attractive in spandex. I haven’t looked, myself. But I felt myself growing stronger.

Then something happened. One morning, a couple I’ve seen in church came in. She had a stroke about a year ago. She comes to church in a wheelchair or with a walker, and she and her husband came in that morning with a walker. As I jogged past them, I saw him help her remove her coat, and then they pushed the walker aside and started walking. She held on to the rail with one hand and carefully walked, raising her left foot with special care. I could tell that was the side affected by the stroke. Her husband walked with her, holding on to her for support and encouraging her with quiet words.

It was so beautiful and so humbling.

As I watched their slow progress around the track, I started to pray for them. I prayed for healing for her and strength for him to continue to support her as she healed. I prayed in thanksgiving that I was able to run, and I offered my last lap—at a sprint this time—up for them.

Two days later, I woke up tired and didn’t want to run again. It was cold, and there were snow flurries in the air. I didn’t want to drive to the community center, much less run outside. Then I remembered the text I had received the day before: my cousin’s wife had entered hospice care. I wrote about her two days ago: Jeni, whose cancer had come back and was taking her away from her husband and two kids. I remembered the couple at the community center, too.

I drove to the community center and ran. This time, I prayed the whole time. I won’t say that it was easy, but it was a little easier. I didn’t think so much about myself as I did about Jeni, and the lady with the stroke. There were other people there that morning, too: driven indoors by the cold and snow flurries. A few of them were jogging, but most were walking. I prayed for them, too: people I don’t know and who have needs of which I’m not aware. I thought about the people on our parish prayer list, and I prayed for as many as I could remember, as well as for my family and friends. Every time I started to get tired and wanted to quit before my stretch of running was over, I remembered all of them: Jeni, the elderly couple, the teacher whose mother died, my mother, everyone else.

So this is how I run now. I know it’s good for me, because I have lost a few pounds, and my legs look a little less flabby. I like feeling stronger, too, and the first time I ran a mile in one stretch, I felt proud. (I told my daughter about it, too. She rolled her eyes.) It still isn’t easy to do those long stretches, but I try not to think about myself as much as I think about others. I feel like I’ve gained a gift in learning that running can be a form of prayer.