Catching up
Catching upQuick notes on week's runs
Wednesday: 50 minutes that felt very comfortable, no post-workout soreness as sometimes has happened on Wednesday runs. Could I be getting used to the heat? Saw a young man being coached through sprints and pylometric drills. Tried a few of the drills Dave taught us. I didn't make it look pretty. Did notice though that I improved a little on the hopping one he demonstrated Saturday.
Thursday: Undecided what to do: race on Saturday, long run on Sunday, tempo run scheduled for today. Should I go ahead with the tempo run? Run easy and use the race as my workout? I decided on a compromise: pick up my pace just slightly so that I'd still be within my comfort zone, perhaps at marathon goal pace. Ran two miles in 18:49, which seemed reasonable and didn't feel too hard, then cooled down by heading for library to try to open the schedule Mike e-mailed to me. No success, but later Mike re-sent it with no difficulty on my end.
Friday, rest.
Today:
Run for the Hill of It, a 5-mile race on Forbidden Drive. This race follows a wide trail along the Wissahickon Creek, about which Poe rhapsodizes, "The Wissahiccon is of so remarkable a loveliness that, were it flowing in England, it would be the theme of every bard, and the common topic of every tongue."* My time was an undistinguished 48:30ish (haven't checked the Lin-Mark website for exact results), the result of yet another decision-making process: how hard should I run this one if I'm running long tomorrow? I opted to start out as on Thursday, within comfort zone, but pushing it just a little, taking it step by step, and if I felt good, push more. Fortunately, I felt fine--fine, but quite slow. As it's been all week, it was muggy and warm, not a day for a personal best or even within shouting distance of a personal best.
Personal bests and I seem to have parted company quite a while ago, and now the hope of running sub-9 minute pace is gradually fading. I thought wistfully of the times when it was relatively certain that I'd be able to run a 5-mile race in the low forties and have a chance at an award. But really, the gift running offers is that with or without the fast times, my body will still benefit from the exercise. I will still have had the run, seen the Wissahickon, felt the dirt and gravel under my feet, the sweat pooling on my skin, the flush of hard effort and the deliciousness of a cooldown run. My heart isn't worried about awards and times. For the record, I'd guess I covered about seven miles counting warm-up and cooldown, and that seven miles did something for me, no matter what the race results say.
When I returned home, I took some time to meditate and pray, listening to a tape that combines loon calls and symphony music. Loons do best where people are scarce. They prefer the quiet places, and to listen to them, it's necessary to travel respectfully to those quiet places, leave behind the noise, inner and outer, and be still. Loons will be frightened away by noise. Powerboats with their invasive noise send them flying deeper into wilderness. But travel quietly by canoe or kayak into their home territory, barely splashing the lake with your paddle, listening, and they will find you and speak to you. I wonder how many of us ram through life, attached to the noise we hear and the noise we make, not hearing the haunting music of loon calling to loon. The lesson for me of that week I spent canoeing in Maine and New Hampshire was to listen, watch, feel the quiet, let the loon cry penetrate the whole body. Even if I can't travel physically to that place, I can, for a half hour travel there in my mind, remember that the numbers and the records might give me a feeling of accomplishment, but the body's rhythms lie deeper.
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*from Morning on the Wissahiccon, http://www.bluebellhill.org/poe.htm
posted by DPMcManus @ 12:37 PM
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