Back when I had horses, I loved fall and winter's descent into cold. I had pretty lively horses, but the heat of summer sometimes took some of the "lively" out of them. When fall came, they perked up. They stepped faster, carried their heads higher, ran harder. Being all about the awesome power of a high-strung, tightly wound horse under me, I really loved the change.
Running makes me understand a little better why they perked up so much in cold weather. This morning it was 34 delicious degrees outside at run time. Cold enough to get out the running tights and the long-sleeved Under Armour shirt. Cold enough for wool socks and gloves. Cold enough to fill me with glee - 34 is enough to add bounce to my step and subtract some of the sweat from my brow.
It was a great run, even on a Monday. I didn't drag my butt up the hills, I bounced up. It wasn't hard to push myself a little harder, a little faster.
It's not a bike day today, but if the weather holds like this tomorrow, it means finally my head won't be a total sweat ball when I take off the helmet, arriving at work. YAY!
Hallelujah and thank You LORD for 34 degrees!!
Monday, September 24, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
regaining lost momentum, and choosing life
I missed some runs last week, as the arthritis in my feet acted up. And then I missed my run Monday, because I was running on something like 4 hours of sleep. So this morning, it was EXTRA DELICIOUS to get out there in the awesome chilly fall pre-dawn.
Here's the thing about missing the run for a period of time: you lose momentum. I started out feeling heavy as lead. Running in my old heffalump heavy steps. Feeling too tired to possibly finish the thing.
I was patient. I know it takes me a full half-mile to really get in the running groove anyway. And I was aware of the missed runs.
It didn't get better at the half-mile mark.
I have a choice, when my body doesn't feel all the jubilation at running that my mind and spirit do. I can feed the voice of "I can't" by speaking its language, thinking its thoughts, considering it as a valid option. If I do that, chances are good that it's right....I CAN'T.
Or I can feed the voice of "I love my body" by refusing the "I can't." I can be patient with me and speak kindly to myself. I can choose to be satisfied with just finishing, and not worry about beating my recent speed. I can keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that all I've done is lost a bit of momentum, and the only way to regain momentum...is...wow, this is deep, people...KEEP MOVING!
I chose the latter. Finally, just before I turned around at the halfway point (so, around 1.25 miles), the heaviness left me and I was able to step more lightly and pick up the pace. Evidence of how much this was true: turning around meant running UPhill...but I still bounced. HALLELUJAH, THANK YOU JESUS, WOO HOO!!!
Really in life I find that we have that choice all the time. I can feed the voice of insecurity or the voice of trust. I can feed the voice of resentment or the voice of blessing. On and on. What I decide to say aloud and inside my head, where I decide to meditate...it allows God to work, or blocks Him, depending on what I choose.
I think THAT is what the whole "I set before you life and death....choose life" is about (ummm somewhere in the first 5 books of the Bible, and I'm in too much of a hurry to find it right now).
As for me, today, I choose life.
You?
Here's the thing about missing the run for a period of time: you lose momentum. I started out feeling heavy as lead. Running in my old heffalump heavy steps. Feeling too tired to possibly finish the thing.
I was patient. I know it takes me a full half-mile to really get in the running groove anyway. And I was aware of the missed runs.
It didn't get better at the half-mile mark.
I have a choice, when my body doesn't feel all the jubilation at running that my mind and spirit do. I can feed the voice of "I can't" by speaking its language, thinking its thoughts, considering it as a valid option. If I do that, chances are good that it's right....I CAN'T.
Or I can feed the voice of "I love my body" by refusing the "I can't." I can be patient with me and speak kindly to myself. I can choose to be satisfied with just finishing, and not worry about beating my recent speed. I can keep putting one foot in front of the other, knowing that all I've done is lost a bit of momentum, and the only way to regain momentum...is...wow, this is deep, people...KEEP MOVING!
I chose the latter. Finally, just before I turned around at the halfway point (so, around 1.25 miles), the heaviness left me and I was able to step more lightly and pick up the pace. Evidence of how much this was true: turning around meant running UPhill...but I still bounced. HALLELUJAH, THANK YOU JESUS, WOO HOO!!!
Really in life I find that we have that choice all the time. I can feed the voice of insecurity or the voice of trust. I can feed the voice of resentment or the voice of blessing. On and on. What I decide to say aloud and inside my head, where I decide to meditate...it allows God to work, or blocks Him, depending on what I choose.
I think THAT is what the whole "I set before you life and death....choose life" is about (ummm somewhere in the first 5 books of the Bible, and I'm in too much of a hurry to find it right now).
As for me, today, I choose life.
You?
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
sometimes love means changing your mind
I was all dressed this morning (even had on the silly reflective vest) and was already stretching when I realized my foot really hurts.
This is not the same foot that I showed to the podiatrist awhile back. It's the OTHER one. Since it's the same pain, I conclude that apparently I have arthritis in BOTH feet. Grabbing my foot for the stretch, even in a shoe, was painful.
I know what I did. Remember me leaving my running shoes in Iowa while I went to Chicago? Well, I still walked around A LOT in shoes I shouldn't even own, much less walk long in. (In my defense, THEY LOOK GREAT with the dress I was wearing...is that a defense? No? Erm....)
So the foot has bothered me on and off since then, but not on a running morning before now.
I first decided to go anyway. It's REALLY HARD for me to change my mind, once I set something in motion. And I was craving the run. And I was already stretched. And, did I mention, I already had on the silly reflective vest?
But then came the reminder, really just as I was about to walk out the door, that the doctor said, "If it hurts, don't run on it." I remember how marvelous that was, the simple truth that my body knows how to tell me if I should go or not. It didn't feel marvelous this morning. It felt frustrating. Still, I remembered....
...this is not about "being tough"...it's about loving my body.
...my frustration was because I wanted the good feeling of running. It's no more right to do THAT, just to feel good, than it is to eat a second helping of something bad for me or go indulge in any other uhhh sensory overindulgence "just to feel good." THAT IS NOT LOVE. And this is about loving my body.
...I won't die from changing plans at the last minute (part of me is never quite sure, on that point.)
So I chose love. I stayed home, got out the bag of frozen peas, and iced the snot out of my foot.
I didn't do it with a good attitude, at first. I was mad, I was whiny, I was frustrated, I was whiny, I was impatient, I was whiny.
Thank God for the perfectly wonderful man He has placed in my life, who happened to be talking to me, and happened to turn my brain away from the whine into remembering the other ingredient, besides rest and ice, that will help with my foot pain: prayer.
Uhhh. Oh yeah!
So I'm on it. And I'm done whining. Sometimes love means being willing to change your mind. Today, I chose love for this body - more precisely, that foot.
If you need to do that too, may you do it with more grace than me.
This is not the same foot that I showed to the podiatrist awhile back. It's the OTHER one. Since it's the same pain, I conclude that apparently I have arthritis in BOTH feet. Grabbing my foot for the stretch, even in a shoe, was painful.
I know what I did. Remember me leaving my running shoes in Iowa while I went to Chicago? Well, I still walked around A LOT in shoes I shouldn't even own, much less walk long in. (In my defense, THEY LOOK GREAT with the dress I was wearing...is that a defense? No? Erm....)
So the foot has bothered me on and off since then, but not on a running morning before now.
I first decided to go anyway. It's REALLY HARD for me to change my mind, once I set something in motion. And I was craving the run. And I was already stretched. And, did I mention, I already had on the silly reflective vest?
But then came the reminder, really just as I was about to walk out the door, that the doctor said, "If it hurts, don't run on it." I remember how marvelous that was, the simple truth that my body knows how to tell me if I should go or not. It didn't feel marvelous this morning. It felt frustrating. Still, I remembered....
...this is not about "being tough"...it's about loving my body.
...my frustration was because I wanted the good feeling of running. It's no more right to do THAT, just to feel good, than it is to eat a second helping of something bad for me or go indulge in any other uhhh sensory overindulgence "just to feel good." THAT IS NOT LOVE. And this is about loving my body.
...I won't die from changing plans at the last minute (part of me is never quite sure, on that point.)
So I chose love. I stayed home, got out the bag of frozen peas, and iced the snot out of my foot.
I didn't do it with a good attitude, at first. I was mad, I was whiny, I was frustrated, I was whiny, I was impatient, I was whiny.
Thank God for the perfectly wonderful man He has placed in my life, who happened to be talking to me, and happened to turn my brain away from the whine into remembering the other ingredient, besides rest and ice, that will help with my foot pain: prayer.
Uhhh. Oh yeah!
So I'm on it. And I'm done whining. Sometimes love means being willing to change your mind. Today, I chose love for this body - more precisely, that foot.
If you need to do that too, may you do it with more grace than me.
Monday, September 10, 2012
happy monday morning thoughts along the way
Last week contained almost no exercise for me at all. I missed Monday's run as I was in Chicago and had left my running shoes in Iowa. Wednesday and Friday both brought more lightning than I was comfortable with for running. My schedule and the weather also prevented me from biking to work even once. Let me tell you, MY BODY OBJECTED. My body and mind are very connected and in agreement these days: exercise is a good and welcome thing, and its absence brings sluggishness and generally not feeling as well.
So it was a beautiful thing to get back out there for the run this morning. My muscles were very tight and stretching was much harder than usual, but again, my body and mind are very connected these days. Felt FANTASTIC to work the stretch, to get out there and move. I love feeling my running muscles come alive. I love feeling very clearly the reshaping that continues to happen. This body, that I spent my whole life hating, resenting, ignoring, abusing, and being ashamed of...well, let's just say God's grace is amazing. He really has taught me to love my body, which I had no idea was such an integral part of loving myself.
Also: on Friday and again last night I had fast food. Friday was because I was hurrying between tasks, and last night that was just the place I landed, with a group, and hadn't had supper. The change in me is still real: the fast food was very disappointing. It doesn't TASTE like loving my body. It isn't satisfying. It doesn't feel like a celebration, an affirmation, an encouragement, a bit of hope. My normal body-loving choices DO.
For all of the above reasons, I have hope that this isn't just another "skinny cycle" in a lifetime of the yo yo diet. I'm not "trying harder." I'm not "working a program." I'm not forbidden ANY food, EVER. I'm not counting calories or carbs or exercising any other food measurement program. I'm not trying to beat my muscles into submission with unwelcome workouts. I'm not defining my worth by inches or pounds or pants size. ALL I AM DOING IS LETTING GOD TEACH ME TO LOVE MY BODY. You know...like this: Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added unto you. The continual weight loss, the increasing fitness, the joy in movement, the ever-increasing understanding of nutrition...all that is "added" stuff and is NEVER the point of the story.
The point of the story is LOVE. It's the beginning, the middle, the end, the focus, the purpose, and all that really matters. The other details mind themselves, as I mind the mission. Meanwhile, every day I am healed a little more. Every day my mind and body are a little more connected - that's among the definitions of wholeness...and wholeness ROCKS. I recommend finding it.
Isn't God amazing?!
So it was a beautiful thing to get back out there for the run this morning. My muscles were very tight and stretching was much harder than usual, but again, my body and mind are very connected these days. Felt FANTASTIC to work the stretch, to get out there and move. I love feeling my running muscles come alive. I love feeling very clearly the reshaping that continues to happen. This body, that I spent my whole life hating, resenting, ignoring, abusing, and being ashamed of...well, let's just say God's grace is amazing. He really has taught me to love my body, which I had no idea was such an integral part of loving myself.
Also: on Friday and again last night I had fast food. Friday was because I was hurrying between tasks, and last night that was just the place I landed, with a group, and hadn't had supper. The change in me is still real: the fast food was very disappointing. It doesn't TASTE like loving my body. It isn't satisfying. It doesn't feel like a celebration, an affirmation, an encouragement, a bit of hope. My normal body-loving choices DO.
For all of the above reasons, I have hope that this isn't just another "skinny cycle" in a lifetime of the yo yo diet. I'm not "trying harder." I'm not "working a program." I'm not forbidden ANY food, EVER. I'm not counting calories or carbs or exercising any other food measurement program. I'm not trying to beat my muscles into submission with unwelcome workouts. I'm not defining my worth by inches or pounds or pants size. ALL I AM DOING IS LETTING GOD TEACH ME TO LOVE MY BODY. You know...like this: Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added unto you. The continual weight loss, the increasing fitness, the joy in movement, the ever-increasing understanding of nutrition...all that is "added" stuff and is NEVER the point of the story.
The point of the story is LOVE. It's the beginning, the middle, the end, the focus, the purpose, and all that really matters. The other details mind themselves, as I mind the mission. Meanwhile, every day I am healed a little more. Every day my mind and body are a little more connected - that's among the definitions of wholeness...and wholeness ROCKS. I recommend finding it.
Isn't God amazing?!
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
runner's stitch
On yesterday's run I got that old dreaded "runner's stitch." You know...that pain in your side? I hadn't had that since I was a kid. I guess it comes with how much harder I'm trying to push myself to hustle.
I Googled it (what did we ever do before the Google?) to find out the "why" and "how not to" about runner's stitch. Seems it's a bit of a mystery. Some think it comes from breathing too shallowly, which causes basically a cramp in the diaphragm. Some think it's from one's guts bouncing around too much and pulling on the diaphragm in a specific way. Some think it's from always exhaling on the same stride - say, the left foot, for example - and thus working the diaphragm in an uneven way. What I get from this is it seems to be all about the diaphragm. LOL The only non-diaphragm answer I read was something about how running downhill might make it worse because it stresses the whole body in general more. I actually LOVE running downhill...love feeling how it works in my butt and the front of my thighs. I ain't giving up my running downhill. And besides, the stitch happened on the flat part of my run.
The important thing here is not so much the cause but what to do about it, I say.
Possible tactics for dealing with it include intentional deep breathing BEFORE running, pursing one's lips to blow hard (like blowing a trumpet) AMIDST running, when the stitch sets in, being sure not to eat too much before running, and maybe pressing ones thumb into the pained area to help relieve the pain.
So tomorrow I'll add some breathing stuff to my warmup routine, and will be ready to blow the imaginary trumpet if needed.
Won't THAT be cute?
I Googled it (what did we ever do before the Google?) to find out the "why" and "how not to" about runner's stitch. Seems it's a bit of a mystery. Some think it comes from breathing too shallowly, which causes basically a cramp in the diaphragm. Some think it's from one's guts bouncing around too much and pulling on the diaphragm in a specific way. Some think it's from always exhaling on the same stride - say, the left foot, for example - and thus working the diaphragm in an uneven way. What I get from this is it seems to be all about the diaphragm. LOL The only non-diaphragm answer I read was something about how running downhill might make it worse because it stresses the whole body in general more. I actually LOVE running downhill...love feeling how it works in my butt and the front of my thighs. I ain't giving up my running downhill. And besides, the stitch happened on the flat part of my run.
The important thing here is not so much the cause but what to do about it, I say.
Possible tactics for dealing with it include intentional deep breathing BEFORE running, pursing one's lips to blow hard (like blowing a trumpet) AMIDST running, when the stitch sets in, being sure not to eat too much before running, and maybe pressing ones thumb into the pained area to help relieve the pain.
So tomorrow I'll add some breathing stuff to my warmup routine, and will be ready to blow the imaginary trumpet if needed.
Won't THAT be cute?
Sunday, August 26, 2012
1,000 miles
Well, I hit my 1,000 mile mark last night on Wilma. I hadn't planned for that before riding, but as I rode, I saw how close it was and...well...it was WORTH riding past dark to hit that mark.
There is of course nothing inherently special about the number 1,000, any more than there is anything inherently special about the new year or my birthday or any other numbered item. But I am definitely a person who stops to reflect when they hit, nonetheless.
(I can almost HEAR Lulu pining, "What about ME? What about MY miles?" So...reminder...there were A LOT of Lulu miles in the same time frame as Wilma's 1,000. Wilma's just the lucky bike that gets a speedometer. LOL)
So what has happened in the 1,000 miles Wilma and I have done in 10 months minus winter?
I have learned to love the hilly parts of the bike trail and learned to hold my own on one of the meanest streets in Rock Island. Conquered steeps I thought were insurmountable. Wiped countless bugs out of my eyes, snorted them out of my nose, and swallowed them without number. Scared beavers, had showdowns with territorial hissing geese, and felt my heart jump in close encounters with deer. Lost pounds and inches that I still won't bother quantifying. Built leg muscles that I love to watch work. Got my mind blown as God completely healed my life-long terror of heights. Been laughed at, yelled at, cheered on, screamed at, honked at, and propositioned. Battled carpal tunnel hands, an arthritic foot, and uhh saddle pain. Gone from being passed by everyone on the trail to mostly holding my own position. Gloried in standing on the pedals down hills and grunted while standing on the pedals up hills. Soaked sweat clean through all the hair on my head and every stitch of clothing I had on too many times to count. Fought headwinds for hours at a time. Giggled like a child in the driving rain. Talked to myself, silently and aloud. Sung to myself, sometimes at the top of my lungs. Talked to God, silently and aloud. Laughed and joked and occasionally cried with Him. Even rode with a friend a time or two. Witnessed fights and lovers and drug deals and pranks and friendships. Experienced the "thin places" where the barrier between physical and spiritual is almost not there at all. Breathed so hard it made my throat sore. Rode so hard it made my body sore. Meandered at a pace barely moving. Sat beside water and listened. Smiled at passers by. Got smiled at by passers by. Got glared at by passers by. Got stared thru as if invisible by passers by. Felt judged by riders slicker than me. Judged riders slicker than me. Silently cheered fellow non-athletic types as I encountered them. Prayed for what I saw in the natural and in the spirit for others along the way. Watched seasons come and go. Remembered long long ago. Fought fantasies. Made plans. Abandoned plans. Rewrote plans. Surrendered my right to plan. Dreamed of far far ahead. Drifted in peace.
Oh, there's more, but really how long am I gonna go on about how great it is to ride a bike?
If you don't have something this awesome in your life, whether it is riding a bike or something else...my prayer for you is that THIS is the year it opens up.
There is of course nothing inherently special about the number 1,000, any more than there is anything inherently special about the new year or my birthday or any other numbered item. But I am definitely a person who stops to reflect when they hit, nonetheless.
(I can almost HEAR Lulu pining, "What about ME? What about MY miles?" So...reminder...there were A LOT of Lulu miles in the same time frame as Wilma's 1,000. Wilma's just the lucky bike that gets a speedometer. LOL)
So what has happened in the 1,000 miles Wilma and I have done in 10 months minus winter?
I have learned to love the hilly parts of the bike trail and learned to hold my own on one of the meanest streets in Rock Island. Conquered steeps I thought were insurmountable. Wiped countless bugs out of my eyes, snorted them out of my nose, and swallowed them without number. Scared beavers, had showdowns with territorial hissing geese, and felt my heart jump in close encounters with deer. Lost pounds and inches that I still won't bother quantifying. Built leg muscles that I love to watch work. Got my mind blown as God completely healed my life-long terror of heights. Been laughed at, yelled at, cheered on, screamed at, honked at, and propositioned. Battled carpal tunnel hands, an arthritic foot, and uhh saddle pain. Gone from being passed by everyone on the trail to mostly holding my own position. Gloried in standing on the pedals down hills and grunted while standing on the pedals up hills. Soaked sweat clean through all the hair on my head and every stitch of clothing I had on too many times to count. Fought headwinds for hours at a time. Giggled like a child in the driving rain. Talked to myself, silently and aloud. Sung to myself, sometimes at the top of my lungs. Talked to God, silently and aloud. Laughed and joked and occasionally cried with Him. Even rode with a friend a time or two. Witnessed fights and lovers and drug deals and pranks and friendships. Experienced the "thin places" where the barrier between physical and spiritual is almost not there at all. Breathed so hard it made my throat sore. Rode so hard it made my body sore. Meandered at a pace barely moving. Sat beside water and listened. Smiled at passers by. Got smiled at by passers by. Got glared at by passers by. Got stared thru as if invisible by passers by. Felt judged by riders slicker than me. Judged riders slicker than me. Silently cheered fellow non-athletic types as I encountered them. Prayed for what I saw in the natural and in the spirit for others along the way. Watched seasons come and go. Remembered long long ago. Fought fantasies. Made plans. Abandoned plans. Rewrote plans. Surrendered my right to plan. Dreamed of far far ahead. Drifted in peace.
Oh, there's more, but really how long am I gonna go on about how great it is to ride a bike?
If you don't have something this awesome in your life, whether it is riding a bike or something else...my prayer for you is that THIS is the year it opens up.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
just a little trash talk for your morning
Met with my old good friend Brady this morning...Brady Street Hill, that is. Hadn't done that since the Bix.
Just for the record: IT'S STILL HUGE.
Just for the record: I STILL OWNED IT.
I discovered this past weekend that I'm approaching the 1,000 mile mark on Wilma's speedometer (I had that installed in late October, 2011, which means I've used it for 10 months, 4 or so of which I did not ride AT ALL...and keep in mind, those miles don't count the ones I've ridden on Lulu...am I bragging? MAYBE.)
I intend to get to 1,000 before September 1.
You should probably expect me to celebrate that in some ridiculous fashion, which will probably embarrass me.
Just sayin'...
Just for the record: IT'S STILL HUGE.
Just for the record: I STILL OWNED IT.
I discovered this past weekend that I'm approaching the 1,000 mile mark on Wilma's speedometer (I had that installed in late October, 2011, which means I've used it for 10 months, 4 or so of which I did not ride AT ALL...and keep in mind, those miles don't count the ones I've ridden on Lulu...am I bragging? MAYBE.)
I intend to get to 1,000 before September 1.
You should probably expect me to celebrate that in some ridiculous fashion, which will probably embarrass me.
Just sayin'...
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