Running Through the Pain

One of the things that I love most about running is that it's tough.  I love the challenge - the feel of my heart pumping, lungs taking air in and pushing it out, muscles burning, mind fighting for positive thoughts.  Running is hard.  Perhaps body build, level of God-given ability, and past experience makes running more difficult for some than others, but we're all out there pushing ourselves when we run.

This morning, I had the opportunity to watch the Hands on House Half Marathon.  I'd been planning to be there since my sister told me about her intent to sign up several months ago.  This was not her first half-marathon, but it was her first since receiving a painful health diagnosis this summer.  My sister has always impressed me with her quiet strength - her ability to push through with humility.  I knew this would be a different race for her.  Training was hampered by mornings where she would have difficulty walking or getting her shoes on.  But she kept at it, without complaint or bitterness.  Her achievement today demonstrates her perseverance; she pushed ahead, despite the pain, and finished strong.  Watching her afterwards, it was evident that she didn't have the kind of race that she had hoped for, her disappointment apparent in her face.  But in my eyes, each day that she is out there, putting one foot in front of the other, is a huge accomplishment.  In my eyes, she's a superhero - attempting things that seem impossible for mere humans, hanging tough, inspiring others.


I know this was one of many stories today.  Friends running first half marathons, others running for a cause, the Amish running complete with head coverings or suspenders - they each gave themselves to the process of training and faced something deep within themselves while competing out there today.  When I watch, I wonder about their stories, and I feel their courage and strength.

Surprised by Joy

If you've seen me over the last few weeks, you may notice that I'm looking a little tired.  One reason that I'm sleepy is that I've been up late watching Universal Sports' coverage of the 2011 Track and Field World Championships in Daegu, South Korea.  I LOVE watching sports, especially running races.  In fact, I think that I enjoy spectating at least as much as I enjoy participating.  I'm usually OK with watching a race once and then moving on.  But I have to admit that there's one race from this year's championships that I keep coming back to: it's the womens' 1500m race.  For those who didn't see it, I'll spare you the suspense - an American named Jenny Barringer Simpson won the race.  But for me, it's not so much about who won, but how she won, and her response after winning.  Check it out (Jenny's in navy blue): 



The race positioning changes an amazing number of times during the 4-minute test.  For much of the event, Jenny is closer to the back than the front.  But this doesn't seem to get to her: with 200 meters to go, she makes her move, and manages, somehow, to summon strength, winning strength, and powers her way to the front.  Her race smarts and confidence are clearly inspiring.  But I have to tell you that what I love most of all is her response after she crosses the line - it's written all over her face - first disbelief...then relief... then Joy.

Have you had this kind of response, or felt this kind of joy, at some point during your life?  Have you worked hard toward a goal, even one that seemed unattainable, and accomplished it?  Have you faced something you weren't sure you could conquer and come out victorious on the other side?  Or maybe you experienced joy welling up inside of you after learning something that changes everything.  Maybe your "race" was a lot longer than 4 minutes; in fact, maybe you're in the middle of your race right now.

If you've had a moment like Jenny's, I'd love to hear all about it!

Remembering Rachel

By now, you've likely heard the story of 9-year-old Rachel Beckwith, who decided to forego birthday gifts, asking friends and family to donate money to charity:water.  Read more about her story here.

As an update, her fundraising page shows that she's raised more than $850,000 at this point.  This money will be used for clean water projects that will change the lives of thousands of people, even saving the lives of some.  And her story has showcased the water crisis and the need for people to give generously to better the lives of others.  It's inspiring to remember how one seemingly small decision made in love can have a long-lasting and life-changing impact.

I am not afraid. I was born to do this.

I wrote the following in response to an invitation on Kara Goucher's blog.  Let me know if you submit a story too - I'd love to hear it!


For me, running has been like a roadway on my journey out of fear.  It is the path that leads me further from the faulty behaviors and thoughts that have defined me and toward new opportunities and challenges and relationships.

Out of a perceived failure, my relationship with running was birthed.  It was my junior year of high school, and I needed to find a new spring sport.  I was tired of going to softball practice and trying my best, only to sit on the bench for the majority of every game.  My confidence in my athletic ability, and really my confidence in general, was pretty low.  I felt that I did not have any useful skills to contribute to a team.  In my search for another chance, a new opportunity, I decided to try track and field.  After all, there had to be something, some event, where I would be successful.  And there were no try-outs or cuts on the track team.

The first few weeks were really awful, and my first few races miserable failures.  I'm not quite sure why I kept at it, aside from a decision that I had made to not use my running performance, or my seeming lack of ability, to define me.  Somehow, at some point that first season, something clicked.  And I wanted to keep running.  This was a pivotal time for me.  I was growing in endurance and courage.  I was starting to like myself, maybe more for the fact that I faced a primary life fear - the fear that no matter how hard I try, I'm not good enough - and came out on the other side, than for my improvement as a runner.

Well, I've certainly had my ups and downs with running since then - opportunities to run at the Division I level in college and age group victories at road races, along with struggles with anemia and injuries and lack of motivation.  But running continues to be the pathway that God has used to help me to face my fears.  Over the past year, opportunities to run a marathon to bring running water to people in Kenya and to coach a team of elementary school-aged girls with all of their elementary school-aged issues and insecurities have forced me to take a good, long look in the mirror, the reflection revealing the lingering fears - that I'm not capable of educating or informing others, that I'm not really an advocate for those who have no voice, that I'm not interesting or fun.  I'm so grateful for second (and third and fourth) chances, for the  freedom to keep trying.  The sticking with it even when it feels yucky is what brings healing - and hope.  If I have a bad practice with the girls, if they tell me they don't want to run with me, I'm going to keep loving them, and running with them.  I'm going to be OK even if I don't have their love and respect in return for mine. 

All of this has taught me that my lack shouldn't keep me from trying things; just because I wasn't gifted with as much natural ability as other runners doesn't mean that I should quit running my race.  There are definitely days when I don't feel born to run, just like I don't feel born to do lots of other things that I obviously was born to do (like motherhood, but I'll save that subject for another time).  But in keeping at it, I know that I'm growing.  I'm more than growing, I'm really living.  I am not afraid.  I was born to do this.

Focusing on the Task at Hand

Thanks to my husband, I recently had the opportunity to attend a running clinic sponsored by Runner's World Magazine.  Jack Daniels, one of the most well-known and well-respected running coaches in the US, shared from the wealth of running wisdom that he's accumulated over the years.  You can read more about his visit here and here.

I've used some advice from Jack Daniels before, so I was eager to know what he would share with us.  After hearing from him, I want to focus more on my stride rate (to run efficiently, we're to shoot for 180 steps per minute) and my breathing (running at a good pace should result in a breath in over 2 steps and a breath out over 2 steps).  And I want to learn to focus on the task at hand.  This seems very simple, but in a racing situation, and especially in a marathon, it's very easy to get overwhelmed and to fixate on how far I am from the finish.  The distance and time remaining can feel burdensome, crushing, even impossible.

This concept was echoed in a youtube clip showing highlights from this week's LA marathon and an interview with a female runner named Amy Hastings.  Her first marathon, she finished in second place with a phenomenal time under less-than-ideal weather conditions.  She said that she experienced pain different from anything she's never felt before, but that when it came to pushing through and finishing, she began to focus on getting through each quarter mile and then each mile.  Great advice for finishing a running marathon, but also valuable for finishing life's other "marathons" too.

Speaking to the Future Generations

Last night we received the phone call that we waited for all day yesterday, the one that would confirm that yesterday was Dave's Nana's last day and would allow us to officially grieve over our loss of her.  Nana had been sick for several months, so the grieving had already been happening for a while.  Drawing upon some memories, hoping to derive some comfort or consolation, I stumbled upon the realization that Nana's message is alive and is all around us.

Nana was a neighbor, friend, community activist, loving wife, mother, grandmother, and even a great-grandmother.  She was also an artist.  She did calligraphy and scrimshaw, but her specialty was watercolor miniatures.  Her artwork is proudly displayed all over our house; we love soliciting surprised responses when we tell others that these pieces are not photos, but paintings.  Amazing was her knowledge of color and light, her attention to detail, her technique with a paintbrush, her ability to use a medium to create and to make alive.  And through her artwork, Nana speaks to me this morning.

I remember reading somewhere that a key to finding purpose in life is finding your medium...that glorious material or subject that allows you to express your true self (I regret that I can't remember the source of this idea...please let me know if you can help me).  For Nana, it was paint and paper, and for my Nana, needles and thread, sugar and flour.  For my Pop-Pop, it was wood and nails, seeds and soil.  Maybe for you it's math or words or people.  The artwork, clothing, recipes, and furniture, live on, along with all of the memories, even after the creator is gone.  They speak to us of the creator's joys, hopes, and talents.  They remind us of the love the creator shared with us.

Today, the desire to be like Nana, to have something that is left behind that speaks to others, compels me to find my medium.  I'm summoning the courage to look deep inside myself, find the message that God has created me, and only me, to share, and proclaim it.  I want to create and invest so that others may hear from me, even when my life on earth ceases.  Today, I'm thankful that we have opportunities to leave pieces of us behind, that we can express ourselves to those precious future generations that we won't have the pleasure of meeting.

We miss you already, Nana L.  Rest in peace.

A Little Inspiration from Runner's World

I know it!  Most of you are going to think I'm strange (some of you already KNOW that I have my quirks...don't we all?!?).  I don't typically look forward to receiving our mail.  Honestly, there's just not much to look forward to.  Credit card offers, insurance offers, bills...who needs it?  But I'm thankful that, once a month, I'm guaranteed to feel a smile forming on my face as I open the front door and find mail scattered across our floor.  On that day, I spy my Runner's World magazine, and my mind races to reshape my day so that I will have the time to at least skim through the pages.

Today is that day!  The arrival of the magazine, paired with the chance occurrence of both kids napping, provided me with some unusual afternoon pleasure reading.  Ahh...the simple things.  Anyway, one of the cover stories is titled Heroes, and since I'm obviously into the heroic (see previous post about Wonder Woman underoos), I turned there right away.

I quickly noticed a story about a woman called Tara Livesay, who lives in Haiti, along with her husband and 6 of her 7 children (3 of them adopted).  The article says that she's used running to raise more than $180,000 (!!!) to care for the people of Haiti.  Because I was curious to know how it's possible for one person's efforts to be that effective, I went to her blog.  There is SO much good stuff here, I'm not even sure exactly what to recommend.  In yesterday's post, I run II, she recounts the story of when she found out that Runner's World features her as a hero (great story!).  The post also includes Haiti-I run, written in 2009.  Here, she uses her morning run observations to paint the picture of life in Haiti.  Beautiful, and what resonates with me most is the following:

In my right ear, I have my mp3 player on as loud as it will go. Derek Webb sings and reminds me This Too Shall Be Made Right. The combination of the music in my right ear and what I am taking in with my left ear and the dozens of situations I see around me cannot be easily reconciled or accepted. Does God see this too? A wave of something that feels like grief hits me. I am bombarded by a multitude of thoughts. I run.

I spend a lot of time questioning the things that happen in this world, and how God could allow the pain, the sickness, the injustice...the evil.  The knowledge that God will make things right is what brings me comfort.  God even uses us to help make things right through things like visiting someone who is sick, or taking the time to be a good listener to a friend, or providing a meal for one who's just had a baby, or using running to raise money for people who need help.  You have something unique to contribute too.

Another treasure that I discovered on Tara Livesay's blog is the following prayer...I pray it be true for you.


May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships - so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people - so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war - so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in the world - so that you can do what others claim cannot be done, to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.
Amen.
(Franciscan Benediction)

A Long Embrace

Watch the long embrace on YouTube

Last Wednesday, while I was on a treadmill working through some hill repeats, I watched the rescue of Victor Zamora, the 14th of the Chilean mine workers to be pulled from the San Jose Mine.  This was great inspiration for a hard workout; the amazing story shown on live TV served as a very good distraction and motivator!

I had lots of thoughts running through my mind as I watched the above clip...Victor Zamora is a REAL person, with a family...and with hobbies, hopes for the future, and fears.  He is not an actor, or a person in a magazine, or a man easy to forget.  His life is valuable.  His life, along with the lives of another 32 mine workers, are so valuable that countless hours and expense and risk went into a plan to rescue them.

Do you believe that your life is that valuable?  Do I?

What about the lives of your parents or children or other family members?  Or your friends?  Or neighbors?  What about the acquaintance who landed himself in jail?  Or what about the Kenyan child who has no drinking water today?  Are these lives worth saving?  Are these REAL people to you?  To what lengths will you go to rescue these people?  At what cost would you participate in the rescue effort?

The liberation of the miners reminded me of some words found in the Bible's Psalm 40...

I waited patiently for the LORD; And He inclined to me and heard my cry.   He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay, and He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.

God spares nothing when it comes to rescuing us.  This is His promise to us.

I loved watching Victor and his wife Jessica embrace.  It was a long embrace.  Almost uncomfortably long.  God's love is like that.  It is long and tight and overwhelming.  He won't let us go.

Superheroes

This morning, as soon as my son left for preschool, my daughter found his "hero" attire and dressed herself.  Eye mask and red cape on, swooping, galloping, flying across our house she went, back and forth, back and forth.  Never tiring, always smiling, she was searching for anyone who needed some saving.

True confessions...when I was little, I used to wear my Wonder Woman underoos and do my own swooping across our neighborhood.  I wore my red, white, blue, and gold proudly.  I didn't care that it was only underwear.  I felt powerful!  WW to the rescue!   

What's up with kids and their desire to be superheroes? 

A little later today, as we unpacked my son's backpack, we found the orange trick-or-treat unicef box.  Both kids were intrigued.  I explained that you may use the box to collect money when you are out soliciting candy on Halloween.  Then I read the back of the box: 

$0.07 provides 50 kids with safe water for a day

$2 buys 1 liter of therapeutic milk

$19 buys 3 mosquito nets to protect kids from malaria

$257 provides an emergency classroom kit for 40 kids

$500 buys a water pump for a whole community


Andrew wanted me to get his bank for him.  He emptied the contents and started to put the money in the unicef box.  Several times, I asked him if he was sure he wanted to part with his money.  All he wanted to know was whether his money could purchase the set of malaria nets.  "Yes, let's do it mommy."

What's up with kids and their desire to be superheroes?

And why is being a superhero less attractive to me now that I'm adult?  When encountered with an opportunity to give, I typically first think about all that I could lose, and not so much about all I could give...and what that giving could mean for someone else. 

Do they make underoos for grown-ups?

A Lesson From My Son

I went for a different kind of training run today.  Andrew wasn't up for the Y, but was excited when I asked him if he wanted to go for a bike ride.  So we went to a local park.  I ran with Natalie in the jogging stroller, and Andrew rode his bike (mostly) alongside us.  Initially, I thought that we were in the midst breakthrough moment; I would finally be able to complete all of my running with my kids!  But after 5 minutes on the bike, Andrew was starting to tire.

The park's paths weren't particularly hilly, but even so, there were several times where Andrew would stop at the bottom of a "hill" and ask for a push.  "Mommy, I can't do it," he would say.  He seemed to be intimidated by the grade and the length of the hills.  He's pretty new to bike riding, but experienced enough to know that he would need strong legs continually pedaling to keep the bike from moving backward, the default direction.  He wasn't sure that he was powerful enough to make it up the hill.

I'm having an I can't do it kind of day.  I feel like I'm marching upward on an escalator that's going downstairs.  The hills are working against me.  I'm looking for someone to push me so that I can achieve today's goals: a run long enough to match that on my training plan, a blog entry, a basket full of folded laundry, quality time with my husband and kids, some time in prayer for friends.

At the park today, when we approached the steepest of the hills, I told Andrew that he should try pedaling the bike up the hill, on his own, without a push.  I was confident of his abilities.  I wanted him to see that he could do it.

"Keep on going!  Use your momentum!"

"What's momentum mommy?"

 "You can do it!"

He was frustrated.  He wanted his push.  He was a little mad at me.  I was challenging him to think differently about himself and his obstacle, and that can be hard to accept.  But as he approached the crest of the hill, a huge smile grew across his face.  He had indeed done it.  He pedaled the bike up the hill, on his own, without a physical push.

I want to be like Andrew today.  I want to step up to the challenge to think differently about myself and my obstacles and my goals.  I want to listen to encouragement, even when it's different from the thoughts swirling around my head.  I want to keep pedaling when my muscles are screaming for me to stop.  I want to be pleased with my efforts and grow in confidence.  Thanks Andrew!

Dave is my hero!

My husband was my inspiration for my first marathon.  Dave ran the Philadelphia Marathon in 2008.  I remember The Conversation.  One spring morning in 2008, very shortly after my daughter was born (so I was exhausted, hormonal, overweight, and desperately in need of excuses to get out of the house kid-free), Dave informed me that he had decided that he wanted to train to run a marathon.  At the time, he hadn't gone for a run in years.  I was shocked.  I think I may have cried when he told me.  I was not very supportive.  I was jealous.  After-all, running a marathon was MY life goal, and one that I had not yet achieved.

I remember the transformation that took place in him over the following several months.  He lost 30 pounds.  He gained confidence as he tried something new and struggled and overcame and improved.  He even started waking up early for morning runs (and Dave is not a morning person).  He became disciplined where he was undisciplined for the sake of reaching his goal.

Before we knew it, it was the morning of November 23, 2008, and the race was about to start.  Dave would be put to the test...would his hundreds of hours and thousands of miles of training be enough?  Was the training a worthy investment of his energy?  Dave put on his running clothes, drank some coffee and water, downed a bagel, and jogged to the race start.  I remember seeing him at several points along the course, cold and tired, but brave, and having fun as usual (see video below!).



Seeing others strive to achieve the unattainable and ambitious suddenly makes that impossible goal possible for us.  It empowers us to try new things.  It reminds of dreams we once had or places a mirror in front of us to keep us accountable to the things we said we hoped to accomplish.  It helps us to have the courage to put ourselves out there...to grow and to change.

I'm grateful to be married to someone who did (and does) this for me.  Very shortly after completing his marathon, Dave encouraged me to sign up for a half marathon.  I followed through, and in the process, rediscovered my love for running.  Next, I finally registered for and completed that marathon.

Dave's inspiration for his first marathon were two friends, John, his best friend from college, and Rob, a mentor and coworker.  Who inspires you today?  How can you encourage others with your bold actions?