Running, again

I haven't been writing. It's not that I haven't felt like it, but, it's really that I didn't have a whole lot to say. Well, that's not entirely true either, but I suppose I had to say something to account for the gaps in the time sequence, or, maybe not. Whatever the case, I've had a lot going through my mind and my heart, but not the desire to write it all down.

I was running this past Monday; another half marathon and I realized something kind of important as I was running and after I was finished. It was maybe the first time that it came to me and it was revelatory. Usually I play back a sequence in my head, some time after I finish a race and, as I haven't done that many, the sequence isn't anything interesting or unique at all. Rather, it's just a replay of the course I've just run, in stages. I think back to each mile and kind of piece it all together, thinking about how I felt and the people around me, what I saw go by; you know, kind of taking it all in, as a process. I like reliving it because sometimes when I'm running, well, frankly, every time I run, I am paying attention to my breathing and then to some kind of pain that erupts somewhere in my body. That's when the Advil comes in handy, but I digress. But today, when I tried to play back the miles in my head, I couldn't single them out. I mean, I remember the start and I remember some of the climbs, as there were many and I remember seeing Rosh and Salvador and the finish, but there were only pieces this time; no whole picture, no movie reel, nothing to play back and examine and it took me a little while to realize why...

I was 13 the first time I really kissed a boy. And by really, I mean the kind of kiss that makes you understand what it means to be kissed. That moment when one of you actually knows what the hell you are doing and it all kind of just meshes into one big dreamy, romantic, sexy moment. There is no music or anything in the background, but when he pulls his lips away, you definitely want more; that kind of a kiss. And then you go home and your head hits the pillow and you play back the whole hazy thing in your head, letting your face flush all over again and in that moment, it isn't that you are remembering which way your head tilted or where his hands were or who initiated it; instead, it's just a feeling, an overwhelming feeling of intensity and joy and heat and whatever else he made you feel in that moment... well, that is exactly what happened to me this time with this particular run; it became a haze, a feeling and it was the first time that I've ever come close to anything that might resemble a runner's high...

The course was difficult, hilly and continuous; it was hot and challenging and demanding and for the first 7 miles, I ran strong. I pushed myself and when I came in at mile 5 to see 51 minutes; I felt invincible. I knew I wasn't, but I felt really good, powerful even. I was out of my head then and for the next 2 1/2 miles too. I just ran, I listened to my body and I let it lead me. I cranked up the music and stopped wondering and worrying and griping. I just ran... until mile 8 and then it became a job, an obstacle to push past and the remaining 5 miles were a jealous bitch who wouldn't stop calling me, even when I'd changed my number.

Replaying it, I realized that at mile 8, or around there, I started thinking again; oh, almost at 10, not much longer, when is this fucking hill going to end? Whatever I was thinking started to slow me down and wear me out and every time another bend in the course came, I got a little more snarky and pissed and downright disgusted. And when I had to walk and I did here and there, especially when I had to walk right before the last hill, 1/2 mile before the finish line, I was mentally cursing everyone who has ever lived in Laguna Hills and especially the people who created the event... I've always, in every race, sped up the last mile and really tried to finish strong, giving it everything I had, but, not this time. This time I crossed and, it ended.

What I realize now, in retrospect, is that the mental aspect of my running is NOT thinking about my running; the mental aspect is just telling myself to go, to keep going, to not stop, no matter what; that quitting is NEVER an option. And by looking at it like that, that somehow I am freeing myself and my body and my soul to really push, to go faster or harder or stronger or whatever, but to not stop. Mental toughness is underrated in my opinion; you can have all of the talent in the universe, but if you second guess yourself or if you doubt yourself, you're done. The haze that surrounds this last race is good for me; it forces me to examine what I did well without pinpointing exact moments, without asking myself why I did this or why I didn't do that. It really has allowed me to get OUT of my head...

Running is a metaphor for life. How can it not be? Pain is temporary, but pride is forever... yes, very true. And it isn't about crossing the finish line. In life, death is the finish line for most of us; the end, the ultimate "crossing." But really, life is one big loop marathon that never really has us finish. And for those people who are out there, they really aren't there for the medal or the tshirt or the bananas at the end of the race; those things are just par for the course. Those people are out there because they believe that they are just one more step or one more mile from reaching their personal goals, their personal finish lines. And they push and cry and hobble and suffer right next to you, with you and then, they'll turn and pat you on the back, smile at you, tell you their story and you'll shake hands and hopefully see them at the next race.

Someone told me, a few weeks ago that the days are long but the years are short... if that doesn't sum up life and if that really doesn't sum up anything that you set out to do, I don't know what does. The miles are long, but the race is short or maybe it's the other way around? Either way, my race continues and I hope yours does as well, but maybe with less hills next time? Run like an animal...