Running with a purpose

The cheetah is the world's fastest land mammal with a top speed of 70 m.p.h. There's not much guessing as to who would win if he raced a human. Speculation quickly turned to fact and I mean quickly, like less than 10 seconds, when a race was held in Africa recently.

Bryan Habana, a 23-year old South African rugby player, who can run the 100 meter dash in 11 seconds, raced against the cheetah in a well-supervised event to raise awareness about the declining population of cheetahs. What a marvelous publicity stunt for a worthy cause. Hardly a century ago, their numbers ranged in the 100,000s. That number has drastically declined with estimates of 8-10,000 in the wild now. Without intervention through the aids of education and funding, the swift, quadruped will soon be one more sad addition to the world's endangered species list.

There are millions of stories like this. And when I say like this, I am referring to situations where there is a need for money to stop something terrible from happening. I am running for one such cause. I am running for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It's easy to become accustomed to the tools and medicines of the 21st century and then to forget that people still die everyday from diseases that have no cures. I run to raise funds to fight this particular blood cancer. I run to raise awareness. I know I am doing something positive when I see the money coming in. I am so grateful for the large donations that I have been blessed to receive. I am even more thankful for the $25 donations that come from young people like myself who live paycheck to paycheck. It's really hard to decide how to spend the "extra" $25 we might have in a random week. It's tough to part with our money when we have student loans, credit card debt, unpaid car notes. I know this. I am really touched when people give to the Leukemia and Lymphoma society because I asked. That's really special. This is what I will think about tomorrow morning when I set out for the first ten mile run in my life. I will think that I can make a difference. That one individual does matter. That the pain I feel in my lungs or my hamstrings is nothing compared to the pain that some people have to live with every day.

(I have less than $300 left to raise. Please help me reach that goal by clicking on this link and donating.)

The power of motivation

I caught a great article at thefinalsprint.com about the infamous Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon. The article talked about her promoting her book Marathon Woman at this year's Boston Marathon expo. From there I went to runnersworld.com where I read a 7pg excerpt from Switzer's book. Her detailed retelling of that remarkable day gave me chills.

It started to snow again. We were all deep in thought, and my thoughts were moving all over the place. I said quietly to Arnie, "You know that guy Jock has gone up ahead and is probably arranging for one of those big Irish cops to arrest us when nobody is looking. If it happens, I am resisting arrest, okay? And something else." I turned to Arnie and looked him in the eye. "Arnie, I'm not sure where you stand in this now. But no matter what, I have to finish this race. Even if you can't, I have to--even on my hands and knees. If I don't finish, people will say women can't do it, and they will say I was just doing this for the publicity or something. So you need to do whatever you want to do, but I'm finishing."

What stunning fortitude. What courage! What a powerful story that we can all draw from in our dark moments of indecision, solicitude, fear. I feel happy with the four miles I cranked out before work this morning. This article leaves me wanting to run farther. It's not just this article either. Today I've read about a single mother of two, a below-the-knee amputee, who can run a half marathon faster than I can. I've read about the indefatigable Team Hoyt, the father who runs an 8:30 mile while pushing his son in a 27lb wheelchair.

There are so many places from which to draw inspiration. I think of my sister Martinique when Dancin' with Myself blasts into my ears 35 minutes into a six-mile run. I think of my dad and his postcards with the ever amusing "Run Forest Run". I think of my unstoppable friend Jenny churning out training runs that trump my 13 mile race goal. I run for all these people because they think I can do it. There are days I don't think I can trudge around another bend but they believe I am capable. And sometimes what other people think is what really matters.

Full speed ahead

What a lovely feeling when accomplishments follow more accomplishments. As if the vivacious joy of churning out six unexpected miles on Saturday wasn't enough success, I did it again on Tuesday morning. Before work. Jason jokes that I am an animal and I love that. I love the image of something primal, ready to pounce, overflowing with unbridled zest. That is the proper way to Rise and Shine.

Today is Wednesday and I am skipping my three mile run in favor of a Bikram yoga class. I'm vigilant about my leg and not overdoing it my first week back in the groove. Yoga is just another name for personal massage. And after last night's clinic on sports massage, it's important to keep in mind the tonic properties of nurturing your body.

Running with family

This past Saturday was the day I had been waiting for. I was psyching myself up to run four miles outside. Sure, it wasn't my usual Saturday long run but I was creeping slowly into fully recovered mode. I was visiting my parents, with Martinique in from Chicago, and thought I'd muster the courage for an outdoors run. It was wickedly cold that morning. My amazing, and always much too generous, parents suggested that all 4 of us go to the gym instead. What sweet relief!

So, there we were. Martinique, my mom and I, lined up and ready to go. It's really a special feeling to be a part of a family that feels the same way about healthy living. Through some unexpected surge of energy, I cranked out 6 miles and it was a glorious feeling! My cheeks were ruddy with accomplishment and my heart was like a resilient drummer who would never quit. I feared that my long days of resting would set me back. I guess not. My team mentor suggested that the rest could actually be beneficial but I didn't believe it until I proved it! My spirits soared.

I took those sanguine feelings with me on the Easter drive back and carried them with me on my three-mile jaunt the next afternoon. The air was chilly but refreshing. I had time to reflect on the weekend with my family and dwell in the knowledge that what we share is so wonderful. We see the worst in each other. We react swiftly and headlong. We are the topics of each other's long phone conversations and lengthy emails. Yet, somehow beyond all of that, we see in each other something dazzling and beautiful. We yearn to nurture each other's vast untapped potential for fulfillment. We love one another for who we are. Whether we are just setting out for that first mile or rounding the curve in the home stretch, they will be the ones pumping their fists in the air when we burst through the finish line.

Hope is a red balloon

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

I ran this morning as if a giant red bobbing balloon were tied to my wrist---a balloon that signified hope. My imaginary balloon floated over my head, weaving and bouncing in a joyous swell of accomplishment as I ran for the first time in about 9 days. My body was buoyant and relaxed. I was prepared for this day and my legs seemed to glide along effortlessly and smoothly, like my body was as weightless as a bright red balloon. It was a sunny moment.

I thought of the movie Murderball on the treadmill today. I thought of all those men and women who have become paralyzed and will never know the feeling of running again. I thought of how desperately they would try for the slightest string of hope. When I think of those who cannot walk it truly does make me thankful to run and to run consistently, often and with satisfaction.

I am thrilled to be back in action, to be a body in motion. As Newton stated: A body in motion will tend to stay in motion. And, I believe, a body in motion tied to a bright red bobbing balloon of hope will glide along in a fluid motion towards successes of all varieties.

The band plays on

Our bodies are beautiful instruments. Lately mine has been a guitar playing a slow, wistful tune in a country band. The occasional twangs in my groin or hip flexor remind me of a radio station that I cannot change. The plucking of the guitar swells in my legs and I am in a dream at the start of a finish line for a race I cannot run. I feel trapped. While my guitar twangs away, my spirit is growing restless. Afterall, this is the only body I will ever have. I believe it's my duty as one who is blessed with the working instrument to learn how to play it harmoniously. I aim to be in tune with my natural environment, the rhythms of my heart, the pulse of my pumping blood. I am thankful to be able bodied and I want to show my thanks by literally jumping, whooping, jiving, sprinting, shivering, swelling up the crescendo of a hill while my breath burns in short, jagged gasps in my lungs.

Instead I am stuck in a repetitive chorus of slight limps and ice packs. It will be over soon. I know. I can already hear the sweet hum of a well-oiled machine revving all its joints. I see the musical notes on a page and they are starting to flicker more brightly with every day that passes. I step off the elliptical machine in the mornings and am overjoyed to feel the "shy"-ness in my groin abating.

The melancholy country band inside me is shifting its tune. The twangy guitar will be replaced with the snappy, finger-picking style of a bluegrass banjo. I will wave my fingers at the sky. I will hop out of bed in earnest. Tomorrow I am going to run on the treadmill.

For my few but lovely readers, may you find some time to exercise as well and delight in the songs your body sings. Play on...

and, again, still healing

I went to the gym on Saturday for a couple circuits with the upper body weights. I concentrated on stretching and my abs. I also rode the bike for 30 minutes. I never feel quite comfortable or positioned correctly on those stationary bikes. I don't know what it is. They also seem so boring. I'm not even sure if it was a wise move with my groin twangy, it didn't seem to hurt.

On Sunday Jason and I walked 6 miles of trails out at Island Lake State Park. My leg actually never bothered me. If anything, that muscle felt "shy" as they often do when you're afraid of over doing it. I started to get confident that I'd be running right away.

Alas, not so.

I parked my car in front of my building today and by the time I walked in, there was that muscle twangy AGAIN!!!! It's so irritating. More rest and more ice.

Tonight there is a clinic at the Running Fit store. The topic is "Everything You Need To Know To Finish Your Race". Should be informative!!!! This better give me lots of vital stuff to work with since I skipped the opening day festivities :(