is so sweet.
And I'd like to take just a second to acknowledge that. Because it is so easy to get wrapped up in nonsense that isn't real problems. And because I usually take the viewpoint of wanting to live like a shark - constantly moving or else I'll die.
And sure, I don't have a lot of money. I don't have a car. My hair needs a trim, my bed isn't made, I could/should probably weigh 5 lbs less, I'm single, and I spend a good deal of time worrying that I'm frivolously wasting my defining decade and that I'll wake up in my early 30's horrified at the life I've built for myself.
But today after I wrapped up a day of work at a job I love, I went for a run, and then I walked home and read a magazine on my front porch while it poured rain, and drank a glass of wine. And I was happy.
My real life.
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fear. Show all posts
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
382.2
382.2 miles. That's how many miles I've run since August 6 when I began training for my Third marathon, which I ran on Sunday.
4:32:10 was how long it took me to run the 26.2 miles throughout Philadelphia. 4:30:00 was the goal I set for myself back in August when I started training.
It was a lofty goal, and I liked having a new challenge added to a race I had done twice, but honestly, I didn't think I would even come close to making it.
But sometimes, you just have a good run. And that's what happened on Sunday. More intensive training, a good understanding of how to hydrate and feed myself in a marathon, and a lot of hill work (training in Pittsburgh makes "hills" in Philadelphia seem quaint) certainly contributed to 4:32:10. But it was also just a great run.
I didn't stop or walk at all until after mile marker 16 - that's the longest I've ever run without walking before. Every time I checked my watch as I hit another mile marker, I remember thinking "I can't believe I'm still on pace! I can't believe I'm still running!"
In Manayunk, as we approached mile 20, I began bracing myself for the wall. The point in which your glycogen stores are totally depleted, and you begin cramping, your legs start seizing, and you generally feel exhausted.
Have you ever experienced your eyelashes and fingernails and teeth being tired? That's the level of fatigue you feel in the last leg of a marathon. Not to mention the parts of you actually involved in the run.
Instead, at mile 20, I experienced one of the most intense runner's high of my life. Rather than feeling tired, I felt terrific. I ran back up the "hill" out of Manayunk towards Kelly drive for the final stretch with enough dopamine flooding my system to get me to mile 22 smiling.
When my legs did finally start cramping up at mile 24, I had less than a 5k left, and it's way easier to talk yourself through 2 miles of pain than 6 miles. I started to slow down a bit, and crossed the finish line with not much left to give. And that's the goal in a race - to finish having used everything you've got.
I finished just 2 minutes over my goal time. Half an hour faster than I finished one year ago.
It's scary when you push yourself to the edge of yourself. Not just in running, in anything you do that is totally out of your comfort zone and away from anything familiar. But it is incredible and surprising what you are capable of when you do.
4:32:10 was how long it took me to run the 26.2 miles throughout Philadelphia. 4:30:00 was the goal I set for myself back in August when I started training.
It was a lofty goal, and I liked having a new challenge added to a race I had done twice, but honestly, I didn't think I would even come close to making it.
But sometimes, you just have a good run. And that's what happened on Sunday. More intensive training, a good understanding of how to hydrate and feed myself in a marathon, and a lot of hill work (training in Pittsburgh makes "hills" in Philadelphia seem quaint) certainly contributed to 4:32:10. But it was also just a great run.
I didn't stop or walk at all until after mile marker 16 - that's the longest I've ever run without walking before. Every time I checked my watch as I hit another mile marker, I remember thinking "I can't believe I'm still on pace! I can't believe I'm still running!"
In Manayunk, as we approached mile 20, I began bracing myself for the wall. The point in which your glycogen stores are totally depleted, and you begin cramping, your legs start seizing, and you generally feel exhausted.
Have you ever experienced your eyelashes and fingernails and teeth being tired? That's the level of fatigue you feel in the last leg of a marathon. Not to mention the parts of you actually involved in the run.
Instead, at mile 20, I experienced one of the most intense runner's high of my life. Rather than feeling tired, I felt terrific. I ran back up the "hill" out of Manayunk towards Kelly drive for the final stretch with enough dopamine flooding my system to get me to mile 22 smiling.
When my legs did finally start cramping up at mile 24, I had less than a 5k left, and it's way easier to talk yourself through 2 miles of pain than 6 miles. I started to slow down a bit, and crossed the finish line with not much left to give. And that's the goal in a race - to finish having used everything you've got.
I finished just 2 minutes over my goal time. Half an hour faster than I finished one year ago.
It's scary when you push yourself to the edge of yourself. Not just in running, in anything you do that is totally out of your comfort zone and away from anything familiar. But it is incredible and surprising what you are capable of when you do.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
The Fear That it Might End
I read a blurb of a book review on two novels about love written by a French philosopher and a scientist, in the back of an old copy of The Economist of all places. I don't remember the name of the philosopher, or the scientist, or the books, but I do remember reading something interesting in the review.
One of the authors wrote that part of the great thing about love, is the fear that it could end. That to acknowledge the risk and the vulnerability that comes along with falling in love is crucial to the experience being as wonderful as it is.
I thought that this was a refreshingly positive way to look at fear. In love, sure, but also in almost every other aspect of life.
The fear that it might end is most certainly present in romantic relationships, but it can extend to friendships, and family, and colleagues. No relationship is certain. But the fear of it ending is motivation to keep working at them. To call, and write, and make plans, and time, and have hard conversations, and forgive and forget, and to grow close to people.
The fear that it might end is the reason we show up for work everyday at Thread. That the opportunity to do something we love and believe in could end, makes us fight and work to make sure we can keep doing it.
The fear that my health, both mental and physical might end is what keeps me running. It keeps me motivated to sign up for races and train for months to finish marathons, and take care of myself.
I think that embracing the fear of the end could be really powerful.
Eventually, it will all end. And if that's not motivation to give something back to the world, and enjoy yourself while doing it, I don't know what is.
One of the authors wrote that part of the great thing about love, is the fear that it could end. That to acknowledge the risk and the vulnerability that comes along with falling in love is crucial to the experience being as wonderful as it is.
I thought that this was a refreshingly positive way to look at fear. In love, sure, but also in almost every other aspect of life.
The fear that it might end is most certainly present in romantic relationships, but it can extend to friendships, and family, and colleagues. No relationship is certain. But the fear of it ending is motivation to keep working at them. To call, and write, and make plans, and time, and have hard conversations, and forgive and forget, and to grow close to people.
The fear that it might end is the reason we show up for work everyday at Thread. That the opportunity to do something we love and believe in could end, makes us fight and work to make sure we can keep doing it.
The fear that my health, both mental and physical might end is what keeps me running. It keeps me motivated to sign up for races and train for months to finish marathons, and take care of myself.
I think that embracing the fear of the end could be really powerful.
Eventually, it will all end. And if that's not motivation to give something back to the world, and enjoy yourself while doing it, I don't know what is.
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