Baby, You Were Born to Run

Ok, that may be a stretch (pun intended), but I will tell you that this morning’s 5K run was exhilarating, exciting, and of course, challenging. I signed up on a whim, because the thoughts about running had been there for a long time. All I needed was a little nudge to get me to sign up, and it was done.

Let's do this, yo.

On this, the 10^th anniversary of 9/11, what did I do? Honestly, if Future Me had shot back in time to 9/11/01 to tell me I would be running 5K this morning, I would have laughed and immediately fallen back to sleep.

I debated watching some 9/11 specials, but I knew this run would be more tangible to me than watching more footage about the stories and lives connected to all the events of 9/11. I knew I needed something major and something tangible for this day. And I pretty much stumbled into this run, thanks to my friend Candriann. I immediately knew it was just the thing to push me to my next level.

I knew I needed good rest, but I couldn't sleep last night. I kept waking up, anticipating getting up for the race. I knew I needed to get some good fuel into my body (early, but not so early that I was hungry again prior to the run). I knew I needed to start with yoga, so that my muscles would be nicely stretched out and warmed up.

Not only did I get up early (I mean, really early) on a Sunday morning, by choice… but it was to run. It was a good cause—the Run for Heroes, and that was my reasoning—well, really, my excuse. It was the only excuse I needed.

I did this to do something tangible, to feel connected to those whose lives were lost.

I did this because a friend encouraged me.

In the end, though—I did this for me.

And I know that at least a handful of you thought I was completely nuts, to just wake up one morning and run 5K, when I haven’t run on purpose since junior high days. But this is the way I do things. If I’m in—I’m all in.

What’s important, though, is that I did this despite all of the little judgments I picked up on. I did this because I knew I could. I did it because it was something I wanted so badly, I could taste it.

And this morning, I realized a few really important things.

When I listen to myself (instead of the voices and judgments of others), I can do more than I ever expected

Following my heart is the only way to go. Others may not understand it, and often—others really can’t understand the motivations lying deep inside a soul—and sometimes, I don’t even understand my own motivations until after the fact… but the important thing is following my heart. It never steers me wrong.

At one point just before the 1 mile marker, I realized that I wanted to start running again, but I felt conflicted because I also wanted to stay with my two pace buddies. In the end, I started running again. 

It felt good to go my own way, knowing that I had support to make my own choices, know my own limits, and take care of my own needs.

When I accept things happening in my surroundings as motivation (instead of as something negative), it helps me push myself harder

There was a group of very young Navy ROTC men and women running in loose formation for the entire run. They did chants (the same one over and over…). It was cool to have them as background noise, but it was annoying to run behind them. They ran very slowly and deliberately. And I had to constantly be on alert because at any one time, one of them might stop mid-stride to grab an ankle, bend over and stop suddenly, or cut across runner traffic suddenly—and without looking.

So around the halfway point, I managed to get in front of this group. And even though it was halfway through the run, I used them as motivation. When I heard them coming closer up behind me, I started running again, or if I was already running, I ran faster.

I can do more than I thought I could

I really surprised myself. I set very low expectations. I expected to not be able to run for more than the first little bit and maybe the last little bit. But, I ended up running for more than half the race.

Feeling downright giddy. I did it!

My time was 41:24. Not bad for my first 5K.

I am in better shape than I thought. The problems I had that caused me to slow down weren’t related to my lungs or my asthma at all. It was all about how much energy I had, how much my muscles hurt, or needed to go back to a fast walk to shore up some more endurance. 

Mostly, it was the endurance issue that slowed me down. And that is something I can definitely fix, with time and practice.

I was more ready than I realized

I have put off starting the running thing. It’s something I have wanted to so long, but I didn’t want to give it a try too soon, because I know myself well enough to know that would have been too big of a defeat for me. I needed to wait until I knew I could handle 3.1 miles before I tackled it.

Having a cheerleader at the very end, when I was hot and tired and on my last bit of fuel, helped push me even harder and then, I realized—there’s still more in me

My friend Candriann was right there at the end, and she ran the last bit with me, cheering me on, pushing me to run faster and harder for the last little go. At first I bucked… “I’m not quitting!” As I tried to start walking again… and then I went with it, and found that I still had a little more in me. I surprised myself, but it was thanks to my friend who spurred me on.

Rubber legs will not stop me!

I was #811 on 9/11

I still managed to have a coffee date today, get some chores done, and get ready for tomorrow’s work day, all the while with rubber legs and an intense desire to collapse in bed.

I think I’ll sleep really, really well tonight…

It occurs to me that on this big day... 10 years after America's worst tragedy... I am born, all over again. Is there any better way to not only honor myself, but to also honor all those who lost their lives on 9/11, than learning how to love on a deeper level?

Today, love meant getting up too early, running (slowly), and seizing a dream I've seen dangled too far ahead of me for the majority of my lifetime.

This is the continuation of my own personal revolution. I picked a very big date to begin running. It's not coincidental, although it felt that way last Tuesday evening, when I signed up. 

Nothing is coincidence. 

Every event, every moment, every encounter in our lives has meaning. It's up to us to find that meaning. 

We were all born with all the wisdom and grace we will ever need in this life, and through the violence of the birthing process, we forgot. 

We spend the rest of our lives rediscovering that wisdom, shining light on the places where we didn't know we needed grace.

And by nature, shining light on ourselves—and by doing so—helping others shine, too.

Shine on, my friends...

Dear Asthma, You Don't Own Me Anymore

I was talking with a friend recently, telling him about some of the things that happened in my childhood that led me to be less and less active.

Say hello to my new friends!

When I was a kid, I loved to run. I loved the sound of my feet slapping against the concrete, and sometimes I would purposely exaggerate that noise as I ran.

I could never run for long, though. It felt like I had a dragon breathing fire in my lungs. I tried describing it to my mom, but I was using kid language, and I don’t think she quite believed me, anyway.

I also loved to play soccer. I played soccer at recess in elementary school, until the bully kicked me out. Then, I would play soccer by myself, kicking my soccer ball against the one brick wall in our back yard that didn’t have windows. I kicked as hard as I could. I was even pretty good at dribbling.

And another sport I loved? Tennis. I was decent at it, too.

But the pain in my lungs was too much. After losing patience over and over again because I couldn’t run the way I wanted to, I gave up trying to play sports. I gave up running. I gave up tennis, and I gave up soccer.

I resorted to riding my bike, and sometimes even then, I had problems.

The main culprit was exercise-induced asthma, which went untreated and undiagnosed for the duration of my childhood and well into adulthood.

In fact, I wasn’t diagnosed with asthma until I was living in Boston. I got sick for about 6 weeks with bronchitis, an upper respiratory infection, sinus infection, and both ears infected. I was so sick that I probably should have been hospitalized. It was a desperate time for me. I was lonely and miserable, with no one there to really take care of me. If I needed medication, food, or anything else, I had to find a way to make myself go out and get it.

For about two weeks I literally could not sleep because I was coughing so much. I was so exhausted that I became weak and delusional.

At that point, my doctor realized that the reason I wasn’t getting better is because the exercise-induced asthma that had always been lurking in me had finally tipped the scales to become chronic.

He put me on a daily ritual of taking medications to try and get the asthma under control. It took months to become stabilized, but I did.

And my asthma has been under good control for years, now.

I occasionally have bad days, when the air quality is particularly bad, or when it’s particularly humid and hot outside. But on most days, thanks to modern medicine, my lungs behave just like a normal person’s lungs.

Last September, when I had hit about the 35 pound mark in my weight loss journey, it occurred to me that I wanted to become an active person. I wasn’t sure what that really looked like yet, but I could see it on the horizon.

Over the next months, I started exploring that. I began incorporating more walking into my day. I also began dancing again, and I started practicing yoga.

Now, I am a regular with yoga practice and dancing, and I’ve started incorporating some light weight training into my workouts, as well.

After a really great hard workout earlier this week, I realized a few things:

I need to remember that working out relaxes me, clears my mind, and empowers me to take action on real and important things in my life. 

This is my holistic approach… work hard to take care of my body with exercise, yoga, and listening to what my body is asking for (usually sleep, rest, and movement, and sometimes food, etc…) and then taking care of my Mind*, with writing, writing, writing… 

And really, what I need to focus on is taking care of my body. My body helps me take care of my mind and spirit… it’s NOT the other way around!!! My body knows more than the Busy Mind does… almost always. 

If I am too busy moving my body around to loud music that I love, assuredly annoying my neighbors, then my Mind has no room. My Mind simply has to go with the flow… 

And then I am clearer, and my Mind has relaxed and let go of the reigns ever so slightly, and I can then think with a clear head, and do whatever needs to be done.

Maybe it was the realization that the more active I keep my body, the more calm my Mind feels… maybe it was the endorphins making me a little loopy. But, on a whim, I saw a friend’s Facebook posting about a 5K run on Sunday, and I decided to sign up, too.

I haven’t run on purpose since the 20-minute mile run back in junior high, when I had to wear ridiculous day-glo orange shorts and a plain white t-shirt, and the gym teacher also didn’t understand that I couldn’t run because of my stupid lungs…

But I have a lot of inspirational friends on my Facebook, and I constantly see them posting about running, biking, and pushing themselves to new limits. I’ve been wanting to run for a long time. I remember loving that feeling when I was a little girl, and I’ve been aching to experience that again.

Finally, I feel like I’m in decent enough shape that it won’t be a lost cause. I might actually be able to do it.

And, as usual, the easy way isn’t how I attack things. If I were going to do the easy way, I would do a program like Couch to 5K. But that’s just not my style.

Instead, I’m just going to dive in.

My goal with this 5K is to finish. Even if I have to walk most of the way, I just want to finish.

Asthma may have stopped me from being active years ago, but it definitely doesn’t stop me anymore. I’m determined to continue exploring and pushing myself to find new and meaningful ways to bring more movement into my life. Movement of my body equals movement of my mind and spirit.

I am thankful for what I have learned so far.

And as for Sunday? Well, we’ll see what I do…

*When I say “Mind”, I don’t mean my actual brain… I mean the parts inside of me that spin… the spinning wheels that keep thoughts constantly whirring, like the sound of an old hard drive spinning (and blowing just about as much hot air, too).