Ten Running Resolutions for 2013

First time ever it's dawned on me to take a run at some New Year’s resolutions. These are the ones that came to mind today, though I wonder what they will look like in the morning:

1.    Leave the watch behind once in a while. Time waits for no one, but it can be ignored at times.

2.    Be selfless. No running if it conflicts with relationships, commitments, obligations, work.

3.  .  Remember the real meaning of races. “We are, I am, you are.” -- Adrienne Rich 1929-2012.

4.    Get a good goal. A thousand miles for the year seems like a wise one, thank you Amby Burfoot (“The Life of a Runner,” Runner’s World, November 2012).

5.    Run with the young. Well, every now and then, anyway. Let them pull you along. (And let them do the talking).

6.    Listen for things. Ambient sound is alive with ideas.

7.    Stick to the plan when it comes to pain. Don’t run through it; the knees know.

8.    Wait with the words.  Keep the interior voice quiet from time to time. It needs a rest.

9.    Watch for the wildlife. Even the occasional rabbit or crow can teach one something about running.

10.  Don’t forget fun. This thing is something kids do. Take joy in still bouncing along after all these years.

In memory of Sharon Kurns

Today, I found myself thinking what it means to dedicate some thought or action to something or someone. Despite their infinitesimally small value in the face of the circumstances, my thoughts were soon to be dedicated to the memory of Sharon Kurns, a friend who died this week. She struggled with kidney cancer for two months, and her death came quickly, mercifully it seems.

Her husband Dave and I have been friends and worked together for nearly 20 years. I don’t know how he’s handling this brutal fate. I wonder if he isn’t carrying some strength from Sharon.

I wish I would have known Sharon better. She offered something special to the world, her own kind of grace and language. She was soft-spoken; one wanted to heed her every word.

Once she thanked me for a favor I did for Dave and her. I was honored to do it, but her words made me re-gauge the value of measured, honest language.

The last time I saw Sharon, Sandy and I were having dinner with Dave and her at a noisy restaurant. The clamor was so bad we could barely hear each other speak. I strained the whole time with my impaired hearing to tune in her comments. When Sharon spoke, I knew it would be something I’d want to hear.

But the evening had been redeemed even before we tried converse. There was a moment just before Sharon arrived separately. The three of us were seated, and Dave made a comment to the waiter that he’d recognize Sharon right away by how lovely she was. And when she sat down a look passed between Dave and her.

I’ll miss seeing that wordless thing that she and Dave had between themselves. And I’ll miss her quiet, wise words.

Last run before end of the world

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice. – Robert Frost

The blizzard is over, and if this is the day the world ends as the Mayans predicted, I better get one more run done.

It’s seven degrees, with a seven-mph wind from the northwest. There’s about ten inches of snow on the ground, underlain with ice. It’s the first run of the year in real winter weather.


BEFORE:
Out the window, the frozen world is deep blue sky and pure white snow stuck to everything.

Gear ideas:  Don’t be afraid to dress too warmly today. Long johns.

It may not be the world’s last day, but it could be mine, hah, hah.

Random music lyric o’ the day: “Baby, it’s cold outside.”

AFTER
Even at this age, the day after a blizzard, albeit a killer blizzard, brings a childlike wonder at its beauty.

Half the street provides packed snow comfort, the other half hides dangerously slick ice.

Remembering a friend, an accomplished runner who broke her leg in about ten places on Christmas Eve a few years ago after stepping on a hidden patch of ice. Is this worth the risk?

Oh, look at the patterns sketched by the wind. Snow can look like a white Sahara. Wind makes art of both snow and sand. Fire and ice.

People in cars wave at you on a day like today.

Random book title from the memory library: Dr. Zhivago.

It probably takes some running experience to dress just right for this kind of weather. I did. Tip: Add a layer to your “middle parts.”

Poll: Run in snow, cold and ice, or on treadmill?

Final thought: World ending in ice will suffice, thank you, Robert Frost.

Voice of meaning resolves nothing about school tragedy

The  busy, work-a-day world yesterday must have provided me some insulation from the horrible news about the Connecticut elementary school. But the morning brought a desire to look at this thing head on.

Later in the day, the thought was to run long distance in a kind of mental silence.  Appreciate the gentle rain that fell overnight--just make it a seven-mile meditation. Be respectful.

But the voice of meaning begins searching. You think of the evil in the world and the Christian belief in forgiveness. The debate about stronger gun control comes to mind. Contemplate the Buddhist idea of how to bring the end of suffering. Consider Existentialism’s question of why the world exists at all instead of there being nothing.

The mind goes on and on, nearing the end of its tether. It must look for signs.

But don’t read anything into the crows on a wire, your steps in time with their plaintive cawing. It means nothing. Run past Westwood Elementary, flag at half mast, the empty playground on a Saturday, the bright colors of the slides and swingsets shrouded in the dreary light. Run past the triplex a couple blocks down the street where we first lived in this town, before the kids started school.

Run through the Faith Baptist Bible College campus. There you know you will see a sign by a clock mounted on a street lamp: “Have Faith in God.”

Up the street, outside a plain apartment somebody left a plastic Nativity scene lit up.

Northwest Elementary turns up late on the route—the school Natalie and Nathan attended so long ago. The traffic is so much heavier on this street now. The crosswalk looks dangerous.

Yes, there is evil in the world and the meaning of it is elusive. But, we made it, kids, didn’t we?  

The gentle rain starts up again as I near home. This deep drought won’t be healed by today’s weather. One wonders when it ever will be.

But for now there are puddles in the street and some rain water in the glass I left on the porch step.

Another kind of runner's watch

There’s something contradictory and discouraging about having high blood pressure while exercising routinely.  Though I’ve run a couple marathons and a bunch of other races over the past few years, I still struggle with hypertension. Medication helps, but it’s not perfect. In all, I don’t pay much attention to the problem until I have a physical exam.  

I imagine other older runners (and my seasoned farmer friends) are on the same path. You think that the more you exercise, the less you need to worry about the "silent killer." That's probably not so smart.

A few years ago, the medical nurse at work loaned me a wrist monitor. When I have my blood pressure checked at the doctor’s office, it’s often high.  Using the monitor at home on the rare occasions I think I think to do it usually shows more normal readings—suggesting I suffer from “white coat” hypertension. I’ve learned that my blood pressure readings are highly variable, like the weather.  But you get a better picture of your status by taking the home readings. 

A running doctor recently advised me to buy an upper arm monitor, an Omron one specifically. He didn’t feel the wrist monitors are as accurate. Either way, wrist or upper arm, blood pressure monitors are a good way to keep track of this issue. They only cost from about $50 to $100, a wise investment in treating the silent killer.

The Mayo Clinic staff provides a good overview of home monitoring of blood pressure: http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/high-blood-pressure/HI00016

Going out cold

My gloveless hands were freezing, and I could feel the chill through two light layers on top. The baseball cap left my ears exposed. But, the sun was rising higher in the sky on a clear morning. The neighbor's flag was hanging limp.

Of course, the running literature has plenty of advice on how to dress for the weather. You learn to tolerate a cold start--not to overdress and regret it later. But, today was probably the coldest morning of the year. Would I warm up so quickly this winter?

Runners, like sailors and farmers, need to be pretty finely tuned to the weather. You keep an eye on the sky, feel the changes in the wind, and note the subtle changes in footing created by the conditions.

After about a mile, my hands felt full of blood, and the sun warmed me to just the right temperature. It's just that first ten minutes.

On down the road, started thinking about what a warm winter it's been. No snow or ice yet. The golf course I ran through was plastered with fresh goose droppings. The squirrels seem particularly plentiful this year.

In the agricultural space, I wrote recently about weather proverbs (Look around you for a weather forecast).

This morning's run offered up an idea for a little proverb of my own.

If mild in December
Squirrels and geese galore
A winter to remember
Running a whole lot more

Be still, little voice

It was about half way through a 10K run, where I would come off a highway and join a rail-trail in open farm country.  Thus far it had been a pleasantly uneventful run on an unseasonably warm, misty morning, the first day in December.  I sighted two runners in the distance coming my way.  I would soon join them on the trail, returning to town with about a quarter-mile “lead.”  Nice to see someone else out here on a fine morning.

But, a little voice pipes up. "How long before they pass me? Not so soon?  Maybe not at all."

Not too long later, though, the other runners’ voices start to filter through the cool, humid air. The conversation becomes clearer. They're getting closer and closer. The little voice starts to ascertain details.  Chatter about kids, schools, friends, more about kids…. “I’m not a helicopter mom,” one says.  The little voice wonders.

I realize I must have stepped up the pace a hair. Yikes, looks like now I’m going about a minute a mile faster than normal. Why?

Soon enough, here come the moms flying by. Together for a moment,  we detour around a couple folks walking dogs, and then they’re gone.  They’re good-looking runners.  One has track form.

Don’t feel too bad, little voice.

These moms are my kids’ age. They have real talent.  I recall a few of the many runners who have passed me in my long, inglorious history.  At one point of suffering in the Berlin Marathon a couple years ago, I was passed late in the race by a person wearing a pomegranate suit. She sort of bumped me, it seemed.

That old voice, the little voice of competitiveness, is still there, I guess. But it can be soothed, as it was today, by a larger mindfulness….of running for its own sake.  Lots to celebrate this morning—quiet knees, the blessing of good weather in December, a mostly calm mind-- just moving. Everything.