Lighting the way
Hill workout, Bryn MawrI had taken my usual head start--to keep my warm-up pace easy, not worry about trying to keep pace with faster runners.
Most nights, when I leave the relative well-lit security of Lancaster Avenue for the shadowed streets off Pennswood Road, there's always a residue of fear. Even the squirrels aren't visible in the dark. Occasionally a dog's bark will echo from a fenced-in yard. I keep my headlamp on, wear the requisite reflective clothes, yet wonder if that's enough to prevent collisions with oncoming cars. Occasionally another runner passes by and we greet each other, speed at that point less important than the discovery that we aren't alone.
But last night was different. There at the bottom of Avonwood Road, the starting point of the workout, I saw the doe--her ears pointed, large eyes meeting mine, both of us surprised . To reassure her, I turned off my headlamp, and for a long moment, we studied each other, until she bounded off into the underbrush.
Soon afterward, a couple of the fastest runners appeared, followed by the larger group, and once Bob announced the workout, it was down (or up!) to business. Yet thinking of how quickly the deer took off, I wondered if she'd leapt into my spirit. "Run like a deer," I told myself. I won't say the heel didn't hurt, won't say the knee didn't protest. But I carried the vision of the deer up and down the hill, her eyes on mine with panic and curiosity.
Then, as I begin the second part of set number four (run hard for one minute), Jason--cutting his workout to four sets... he had a meet coming up Thursday--coached me through the one-minute run, then through the first part of set five (all the way up the hill, medium effort). Both of these repeats were my fastest of the evening (thank you, Jason!).
I was wearing the same body that had carried me up the hill earlier. And certainly, it was my own body making the effort, yet what a difference when someone is at my side encouraging me. While I was moving faster and feeling the effort, I wasn't overwhelmed with it, because the presence of a friend somehow lifted me, quieted the "noise" and gave me air.
This is what a friend can do. And we all need this sometimes, the friend who gives us air, quiets the noise with encouraging words and presence.
The backdrop of this workout remained--a challenge I'd chosen, a challenge I choose every Tuesday and hope to continue. I come to these workouts knowing they will push my limits, knowing I'll be running with much faster people--and sometimes wondering if I should be there, if I'm too much outclassed, if, in the dark, I'll catch my foot and fall.
But I keep coming, not with the grand ambition of winning races (although I do hope to be competitive in my age group), but because my body and soul need the time, and if I continue to show up, what I will learn isn't only about running faster, good as it is to do that.
What I will learn is what's in me--and what I will also learn is to be open to what surrounds me, look in the eyes of a doe and feel her energy and curiosity, feel part of this parade of runners plying their way up and down Avonwood, and learn what encouraging words can do to lighten our feet--and lighten the dark.
posted by DPMcManus @ 6:47 AM
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