on your left

I nearly took this blog down, thinking we wouldn’t post anything in it again. It had been too long, and we’ve been busy blogging about farming. But then I read Andrew’s blog and I was reminded of how I got into running. I just had to come back here and write about it.

In 2000, I was a freshman at Cornell College. I had probably never jogged more than 2 miles, and running was torture. I had no idea why people liked it. I remember taking an Intro Psychology class. One of our assignments was to develop a new habit (or abolish an old one.) Now, most of the other kids in the class chose something easy, like giving up Doritos for a week to see if they would then eat less Doritos overall. Some decided to cut back on TV. A friend and I teamed up to get to the gym everyday that week and run.

The first day was easy. It’s always the second day that is challenging for me. I’d already proven that I could get up early and go to the gym, so did I really need to do it again? I knew if I didn’t show up, my friend would be disappointed, so I pulled myself out of bed and we ran. We did it all week. And then we continued doing it, not everyday, but 3-4 times a week. At first, I could only run for about 5 minutes, then I had to walk. I would alternate back and forth. Over the course of the semester I found that I could run more and walk less, until I was running about 3 miles.

Around that same time, another friend of mine was training for a marathon. She’s an amazing runner, speedy and smart about planning for the distance. She averaged around 6 or 7 minute miles, while I was lucky to have 12 minute miles. She ran the marathon and did really well, taking first female finisher. I think that was when the marathon seed first got planted.

In 2003, I began training for the Lake Geneva Marathon. I’d never run a race in my life, not even a 5k. By this time, I’d made running a habit and I actually enjoyed it. I ran outside when the weather was good, and I enjoyed the feeling of freedom and feeling my body get stronger and healthier. Why not run a marathon? What did I have to lose?

I borrowed a copy of The Non-Runner’s Marathon Trainer, which I highly recommend to anyone, runner or not. I followed the 16-week training program, while learning about feet and shoes, a healthy diet to support distance running, and reading stories from people who never thought they’d run a marathon either- and did it anyway. At times, friends would join me for some of the runs, but I did most of the training on my own. I watched my calves develop muscles, and I ate endless heaping bowls of rice and beans piled with veggies at the school cafeteria. It was really hard, but it felt really good.

I ran the marathon in 2003 and finished nearly last (5:48:06). I didn’t care about my place, I just cared that I finished. I was a marathoner. It is difficult to describe the feeling of doing something that you had assumed was impossible. It is as if you’ve defied some law of physics and suddenly you wonder if you couldn’t leap tall buildings or maybe even fly. The world becomes pliable.

That feeling is addictive. I wanted it again. I trained with a friend for the Iowa Trails Marathon in 2004. (6:11:00) My friend developed a problem in her knee about a month before the race. We decided to crank back the training a bit and take the race nice and slow. It was a gorgeous race, winding through forests. There were turtles sunning themselves on rocks near the ponds. Again, we were just happy to finish.

I took a bit of a break from marathon running while I worked in Ghana as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I still ran there, although I had to get up pretty early to beat the heat.

I moved to Chicago in January 2008 and started running with a friend. Outside. That was when I met Harvey and we started running together. We trained for a half marathon in Crystal Lake, IL. Then we tackled the Chicago Marathon together. (5:31:16) It was flat and fast. We had trained really well and we rocked that race. Lots of friends and family came to cheer for us. And plenty of port-o-potties along the route!

Then we trained for the Philadelphia Marathon and ran that in 2010. (6:45:54) That was an incredibly hard race. We’d slacked on some of the training runs, the race course was much hillier than we’d anticipated, and we just ran too hard in the first half, running it in about 2 hours and 30 minutes. By mile 19, we’d hit the wall hard. We walked the last few miles. Part of me wanted to hop on the sag wag, but we kept on and managed to finish. I’m glad we did, because right after we crossed the finish line, Harvey pulled out a ring and proposed to me! That might just be my most memorable marathon.

I’ve been thinking about another marathon. It’s been a little while and I miss those long runs…

Beautiful 5 miles to the garden, lake and back today. 64 and sunny. Nice, slight breeze coming off of the lake. Puts me at around 23 miles for the week, not counting Sunday. We’re going to do a long run this Sunday, probably 10ish. That’s a lot more miles than last week. I’m pleased.

Morning run post time-change means waking up with only twilight in your window, hinting at morning yet to come. Eyelids peeling open slowly, as we struggle to convince ourselves that we want to be anywhere other than bed.

Eventually, the lure of the run compels us. We’re up, alive, and warming up.  It’s the same old run, but made brand-new today.  There’s something sweet in being so familiar with our path, now rediscovered with you.

We run directly into a sun, now intensely bright, making us squint. I can’t tell if we’re running fast or slow today, but we’re consistent. My tender hip is feeling strong today, so I push on a little harder.

Greetings to a thousand crossing guards.

I try and catch a glimpse of your kind face while we run. Sly and out of the corner of my eye. You’re smiling and it makes me smile too.

Over the bridge and we reach Ping Tom park. A sudden barrage of green fills our vision, and I’m grateful we ran a little farther today. One loop around the sun, a sweet halfway surprise, and suddenly we’re headed back. As always, retracing our footsteps, undoing the run one step at a time.

Our shadows run together, bobbing up and down, fishing bobbers on a sea and we’re just waiting to see what we’ll catch. We’re long and lean, with massive legs and tiny heads. I like to watch our bodies moving in near unison. Your stride is always a tad longer than mine.

What if we could just do this forever, just run and run and run…

bright break and pass

at point swept by feet.

you sign to a robin

and i’m like, neat!

smash all of the cars

canal and 18th

obstructing our view–

–all on retreat.

i’ll have no more chryslers, no

mercurial mercedes.

my foot they’ll be seeing — the

way south to hades.

we run like all hell,

and this is my cry:

feel free to sponsor us.

give it a try.

out the door and wrapped in chilly air.  smells of green things and rain.

the sun peaks out, brilliantly neon against a sullen cityscape.  suddenly my warm bed seems from another life, another world.  i can’t recall my dreams the night before.  the alarm clock and the need to run have shattered any remnants.

without a thought my feet begin to move.  it comes naturally now, off to the races.

in  in  in

out

in  in  in

out

as the muscles in our legs warm up, i feel my stride open, and my feet slowly eat up the mileage between the beginning and the end of the run.

it’s not a race today.  instead, we are methodical.  it’s more of a dance really.  we are not watching our time.  no sense of competition.  we do this thing, this daily task, together.  his energy sometimes pulls me.  mine sometimes pulling him.

unintended and intended movements.  we are fluid.  we glide down the street, watching kids slowly wander towards school.  workers await the bus headed downtown.   coffee and tamales take over the air.  each footstep lands firm and sure, placing us definitively in this place and in this moment.

in  in

out

in  in

out

we touch the lakefront.  toes nearly in.  it’s hard to hold back the urge to dive in and see just how far we could get.

the sun rises just a bit higher and we turn back.  retracing footsteps like so many breadcrumbs.

we turn familiar corners and see familiar things.  we know this place like no other.  the man selling tamales waves back, and it becomes clear that this place also knows us.

we run and run and run.  day in and day out.  no end in sight, and none needed.  it’s the continuity we crave.  how many miles have i run in my life… at least 2,000 miles. but it doesn’t even matter.

it’s not how far we’ve gone, but the simple act of going.

in  in

out

in  in

out

this movement is ours.

and we are free.

We’ve taken to practicing our German on runs. (Das ist ein Pferd? Nein, er heißt Harvey.) Today we ran 8 miles to the lake and part of the path east of Lake Shore Drive known as the longest mile. That’s plenty of time to brush up on colors and assorted vocabulary. Not to mention during an impromptu gatorade and pretzel picnic near Ortuca’s lair. The sky was grau, and we had an occasional snow flury–but it was a good first long run.

Plans are forming for the spring campaign. In particular, we’re thinking about a 1-2-3 strategy for distance. We’ll start with a 5k, run a half-marathon on or around April, and maybe do a marathon in June. For now, tschüss!

I set out yesterday afternoon to run 10 miles. A long run for the half marathon I’m training for on March 21st. It’s cold, but I’m not the only runner out there, so I know I’m not crazy. After about 1 mile, I could feel my body warm up. I’d warn all my gear to stay warm:

• 2 layers of socks
• long running pants
• 2 long sleeved t-shirts
• high-tech Brooks hoodie
• hat
• gloves

I turned up the beats on my phone’s mp3 player, and headed for the lakefront on 18th. This is a common route for Harvey and I.  From my house, 3 miles of easy streets to the beautiful lakefront. Even in the winter, she doesn’t let me down:

Then I turned north and aimed for Navy Pier. And that’s when things turned sour. I was now running into the wind. I could feel the cold. Also, I really wanted to use the bathroom, and all my usual warm-weather stops were closed for the season. And then I began to feel hungry. I think that’s what really did me in. I ran the 3 miles North to Navy Pier, totaling 6 miles. Used the facilities there and ate a seriously over-priced snack. It was while sitting at a McDonald’s table, eating dried fruit and nuts, that I realized I was done. I was not going to make it all the way to Belmont. I was cold, tired and honestly a little bored.

I picked myself up and took the bus home.

What was it? Was it that I hadn’t planned my food well? I only had cereal and some toast. And I started the run at 3pm. Or was it that I was under dressed? Perhaps I needed a heavier outer layer? Or was I just bored with my music?

I never get bored with the run. Tired, yes, on those long ones where I lose track of how many hours I’ve been out there. But not bored.

I wonder if I’m not taking myself seriously out there. I’m not just messing around. I’m training. And why do I run? Because I love the fresh air and the feeling of freedom. So my goal for the next run is to loosen up, have fun with it, but also to take myself seriously- if I set out to finish a certain distance, then I’ll do that.

Ah, yesterday was brilliant. There is something revolutionary about running in the winter. Everyone thinks you’re nuts, but you do it anyway. Why? Because now is always the best time to run. If I’m going to be a stronger, faster runner in the summer, I can’t lose the ground I’ve gained over the winter.

20 degrees is not all that cold.

• regular running shoes
• two pairs of socks
• winter leggings
• long sleeve t-shirt
• brooks cold weather running hoodie
• light-weight gloves (next time I might add the heavier gloves)
• ear warmers

4 miles of looping around a park in my neighborhood. I am lucky that they shovel the snow on the path for the most part. I went out at 4:30pm, so the first half of my run was in daylight. I only had so deal with some darkness and dropping temps, but by then, I was warm. Seems my biggest struggle is finding daylight to run in. With winter’s obscenely brief sunlight hours, this is difficult. I will treasure our long run on Sunday, where I hope most, if not all, of the run will be in the light of day.

Today I’m hoping to tackle a brief 3-miler out in the suburbs while I visit family. Looking forward to enjoying the plowed bike-path along the river. It’s a beautiful run, I can tell already.