Rain and wind and hills, Oh, My!

The forecast for this past Saturday, the day of my longest run to date - 18 miles - sounded much like the title of this post (ok,  I didn’t hear any of the weather people mention terrain, but they did talk about  wind,  rain and even snow.)  I wasn’t really concerned about the weather and temps; I actually prefer cold weather over heat (see my post from last week.)  I also believe there are many advantages to running in the weather we had on Saturday:  1) bragging rights, 2) warm beverages taste better, and 3) hot showers feel so much better after a run on a cold day (and I feel like I’ve earned the right to stay in the shower a bit longer too!)  

When I left the house at 6:15 am, it was 45 degrees and dry.  Perfect!  As I took off I figured the meteorologists were wrong once again, this time to my advantage.  Well, they were not wrong – during my 3+ hour run, I ran through sleet and rain and wind.  By the time I got home, the temperature had dropped to 36 degrees.  But it all worked out.  The weather kept me cool, and the hot shower felt oh, so good!

I didn’t always think about running in less-than-ideal conditions in this way.  My perspective is definitely an acquired taste.  When I look back through my journal, I chuckle at the notes I made my very first week running:  

Wednesday, April 30, 2008:  “Running class – fun. “  (That first night we walked 8 minutes, ran 2 minutes and repeated this set 3 times, for a total time of 30 minutes.)

Thursday, April 31, 2008:  “Walked and ran with Molly.  The wind was strong – but it was fun anyway.  Walked 5 minutes /ran 2 minutes.” 

Written in the margin across the next few days:  “Rain/wind… NO running here!”

It’s easy to let “bad” weather trump my good intentions.  On more than a few mornings I’ve heard the rain on the roof and been tempted to hit the snooze button one more time.  And I have!  I’ve also come to appreciate the cool, refreshing side of rain.  There are other times when the wind blows so hard in my face that it seems to turn my road run into an outdoor stint on a treadmill, blowing so hard it doesn’t seem like I am making any forward progress.  Then again, there is something to be said about turning a corner and being met by a perfectly timed breeze.   I think these shifts in perspective have been helpful and made me a stronger runner.

My perspective on hills has taken a bit longer to shift.  Before I started running, I don’t remember ever giving hills much thought, probably because I was primarily driving up them!   Traveling hills on my feet has in turn sharpened my focus on the terrain and I find myself making mental notes of those areas that present noteworthy changes in altitude.   It doesn’t take much – for me, any incline is noteworthy.  I don’t always avoid them, I can’t.  My strategy is simply to mentally prepare myself for them. 

So imagine my response when I got an e-mail a few weeks ago from Kim, our marathon clinic leader, when she announced we were starting hill training that night.   Ugh!  I hadn’t gotten to that chapter in my running books yet nor had a paid much attention to articles on hill training in Runner’s World magazine!  I had no idea what I was in for with this “hill training.”  I was so tempted to not show up, “call in sick,” or “call in well” and head to the Dairy Queen.  But I didn’t.  I went and listened intently as Kim told us all the virtues of hill training.  She sent us off to the hill, proclaiming “remember, hills are our friends.  We LOVE hills!”  I remember chuckling, then realizing that her inflection and the sparkle in her eye was no joke.   Kim truly believes this!   At the end of that first night of hills, I can’t honestly say that I made a fast friend in that hill, nor did I leave loving it.  But I ran what I needed to, plus one more for extra credit, and it wasn’t so bad.

Not long after that first night of hill training, a former student stopped by my office to say hello.  She is an amazing runner and when I told her we started hill training, she didn’t miss a beat and declared “I LOVE hills!”  I swear I saw the same sparkle in her eye that I saw in Kim’s eye! 

Last Sunday morning I ended up doing my weekly hill work on my own.   As I was running, I was thinking about the enthusiasm that Kim and Amanda have for this exercise that I didn’t quite “get.”  Then I realized that it was not fun running up the hill, but it felt really good jogging down.  I even noticed one of those cool, refreshing “breezes” on the way down.  I then recalled a comment another running friend made one time when describing a route I had not done before.  When I asked about the terrain, he said “there are a couple of hills, but you get them back.”   I realized at that moment that the “getting them back” feeling – the running down the hill, knowing I finished the toughest part – that is what I like about hills.

Note I did not say that is what I "love" about hills.  I like the running down part just fine.  Admittedly, I don't seek hills when I’m planning my runs, especially the long ones, but I’m not avoiding them either.  I’m really open to the notion that any adjustment of my perspective on hills, if there is an adjustment to be made, will take some time.    In the mean time, I will continue to make my way up hills, and relish the time “getting them back” on the other side.    Adding a cool breeze and refreshing sprinkle on the way down the hill may just speed up that adjustment process.  Maybe…      

Strength in Humility

Sorry it’s been a stretch since my last post.  I got off to a great start on this blog thing, then I blinked and it’s two weeks later.  I’ll try to get better about my updates on this journey to Grandma’s marathon.  Eight weeks to go… good grief, I’m starting to hyperventilate again!  (Just kidding… kinda…)

Rest assured, my training continues on course.  If nothing else, it is a humbling experience.  I’m a part of the marathon training clinic at the Running Room in Burnsville and continue to attend our weekly clinics.  Nevermind that I’m one of the oldest folks in the group.   They are all wonderful people and super encouraging.  They let me take this training on my own terms, especially as I take our leader’s advice to heart – “listen to your body.”  Sometimes my body is screaming bloody murder, but it’s only because it is wondering what the heck it’s doing, running up and down a hill 6 times in a row!  Yes, I’m even doing hill training.  Did I mention this is a humbling process?  I’ll write more about the hills later.  I want to explore this idea of humility a bit more for the moment.

Two weeks ago, my long run was 14.5 miles.  I started out that Saturday morning at 6:20 am, running to the Running Room in Burnsville to join the Saturday morning group for part of this run.  I stayed with the group for 5 miles, then went off on my own to finish up the rest of the miles.  It was a beautiful, cool morning and I felt pretty good.  I did miscalculate the distance though, and stopped running at 15 miles, which was still 1.5 miles from home.  I figured I’d just walk the rest of the way, a nice treat after such a good run.  But clouds rolled in and it started to rain.  I was getting chilled so decided to just finish the distance by running home.  So technically, a 16+ mile run.   It was longer than I was supposed to run, but I still felt good that day, and the next, so no harm done.  And truth be told, it was quite a confidence boost.  Nice!

The following week, kept with the program and had a good week.  I planned my next long run – 16 miles – for Saturday.  Given how it went the week before, I was feeling good.  I knew I could go the distance, based on the prior week’s run.   But there were a couple factors that I knew would be challenging.  I had a work commitment at St. Kate’s on this Saturday, so I brought my running gear with me to run after my presentation.  This meant that I didn’t get started running until about 11:45 am.  And instead of cool temps, the thermometer read 72 degrees when I started.  By the time I finished my 16 mile run that day, the temperature was in the mid-upper 80s, way too hot for this chick.  Needless to say, the run was awful.  By the time I hit 14 miles, I was breaking up the run into half mile segments… run a half mile, walk a minute, run a half mile, walk a minute… my legs felt like lead, my body was exhausted and worse yet, in my mind I felt totally defeated.  My only thought, besides hoping I made it back to the car, was “what the heck was I thinking, signing up for a marathon???”   Definitely a humbling experience. 

It took me a couple days to get my head back in the game, although I was still pretty leery when I got back to running on Monday.  It didn’t feel great and I ended up not going as far as I had planned.   Tuesday was the same… ugh.   I’m happy to say that by Wednesday, I felt better and got back out for a decent jaunt.  During that run, I started thinking about what a humbling experience this journey to the marathon has been so far.  And as I thought about that, was reminded of another journey where humility was a theme:  when we were working with hospice to care for my mom in her final weeks.  One of the lessons I learned from my mom during that time was that there is great strength in humility.

My mom was a very strong woman.  I remember when the doctor at Mayo met with my mom, my sister and I after the results of her tests came back and confirmed she did indeed have pancreatic cancer.  We asked how long mom had left and the doctor said, as doctors do, that it was hard to know.  But, he said, people with this sort of cancer normally have a few months, maybe six to nine.  My mom, without missing a beat, said “I guess I have some cleaning to do.”  No time to cry… we had cleaning to do.  And we did.  We got started cleaning her house the following Saturday. 

Mom did opt to try an experimental treatment for pancreatic cancer that seemed to have some positive results for patients, extending their lives by months, time they would not have normally had without the treatment.  When her results were not as positive and the negative side effects further compromised her health and adversely affected her quality of life, mom decided it was time to stop treatment and sign on with hospice.    She died just about 7 weeks later.  

As you can imagine, her health faded pretty quickly.  The hospice nurses were great, helping us learn how to care for mom during this time.  Administering medications, tracking changes in her response to the medications, giving her shots multiple times a day to replace the insulin her withering pancreas was unable to produce, administering blood thinners to treat the blood clots she had developed as a result of the treatment, monitoring and managing her pain with powerful medications that had equally as powerful side effects.  As we fumbled through our learning curve, mom was always so grateful for the care we provided, as awkward as it was at times.   As she became weaker and she needed more assistance with bathing and taking care of bodily functions, she showed great strength by accepting our help with grace and gratitude.   Not once did I ever see her wince when we gave her a shot, or grumble or lash out or cry as she saw her health fade rapidly before her.   She always said thank you for everything we did.  It was during those times when I realized that there is great strength in humility.  As she humbly accepted the process, her failing health and the fact that she needed to rely upon our assistance and care, she did so with great strength.    I will never forget it.

So as I reflect on the humility inherent in my journey to Grandma’s marathon, I think of my mom and the lesson she taught me about the connection between humility and strength.  I will continue to draw upon this thought as I face the long runs to come… including the one on June 16^th – 26.2 miles to be exact.  I know mom will be with me…  She will probably be saying thank you for doing this in her memory.  (Either that or she’ll be saying “what were you thinking, running a marathon???”  :-)  Truth be told, she’ll probably say them both …)


Paula


p.s.  Because I am running as a fundraiser for the National Hospice Foundation and two local hospice programs - the Regional Hospice Program in Hayward and the Deaf Hospice Program, I told some people that I would put the link to my fundraising page at the end of each post so it would be easy to find.  Here you go:  http://www.active.com/donate/runtoremember2012/runpaularun
  

Why I am running a marathon...

For those of you who know me well, you know I'm a thinker.  Sometimes to a fault.  I think about the  pros and cons of a situation or decision... think about different perspectives... think about what I think about things, why I think about things... sometimes I think too much.  That may be one of the reasons why I've taken to running.  Once I get past thinking about my breathing and how crappy I feel (usually the first mile of a run), I find running affords this introvert a wonderful opportunity to think.  As I make my plan to run my first marathon public, rest assured I have given this a great deal of thought, planning and even have some training under my belt.  

So why am I running a marathon?  I've thought about this quite a bit (ha!), and find that the short answer is "because I can."  Please know  I don't mean that in a cocky way at all. But I can because I have been blessed with many things that allow me the opportunity to do this.  I can because I have work that pays me enough and allows me a few extra funds to pay for race entry fees (for the marathon and numerous other races that helped me build up to the marathon), some good running shoes, a marathon training clinic and even a periodic splurge to buy some nice gear so I feel like a runner.  I can because I have an amazingly supportive family and friends who cheer me on.  I can because I am generally in good health which allows me to get up and go.  So I can.

When I run and am feeling sluggish or start to doubt myself, I think about what I can do (like run) compared to things I can't do, like have one more two-way conversation with my mom. I think of friends and other family members who have died and the rest of us who can't have that one last call, can't have that one last conversation or can't get one more hug.  But then I think about the time I did have with my mom at the end of her life here on earth, and I feel blessed.  I'm so thankful for the hospice nurses, chaplain, and volunteers who supported us as we supported mom, and gave us the encouragement, tools and guidance to make those last weeks with her all they could be.  There are countless hospice nurses, staff, chaplains and volunteers all over the country who give family members and friends those opportunities with their loved ones.  And thanks to amazing leaders like Anita Buel, there is a Deaf Hospice Program in Minnesota that coordinates and provides services for people who communicate using American Sign Language, so they may have those positive experiences too and not have to worry about communication and understanding what is going on. 

I can't make one more call to my mom.  And I'll be honest - when I hear people complain about how irritating their mothers are, it's all I can do to bite my tongue and not say I'd give most anything to have my mom irritate me one more time.  But I can control my tongue (most days!); I can run, and I can raise money for the hospice programs that are near and dear to my heart. 

Paula