Running is a language

boston strong ribbonRunning is a language. It is a language of health and vigor, a language of progress, a language of achievement, a language of determination, a language of dedication.

Murder is a language too. It is a harsh awful language, a language of oppression, a guttural articulation of despotism, of rage, of hate, of desperate loss.

My language, my voice was strangled at Boston.

But I shall recover it. And when I do I will dedicate it – to the people who died, to the people who were injured, to the people who witnessed the carnage. I speak for you. By running, my little footsteps drum out a rhythm, and I speak. Added with all the other voices of the millions who run, no matter how far or fast, our footsteps make a melody pure and eternal. We will dissolve that awful language of hate and destruction. We will not stop until it is done.

Wild Card

Wild card
About three weeks ago, 1 of the 2 big white dogs performed in her first official agility trial. Sascha UKC agility trial March 2013 I remember thinking, “Sascha is a wild card. She could be spot on, or she could zoom off into her own wild blue yonder.” I probably even uttered words to that effect.

Well, like Sascha, I am a wild card for the Boston marathon, less than a week away now. (Of course I am not talking about winning anything, just alluding to my own possible performance.) As some of you know, with a bit of a lower right leg dysfunction, and lots of life crap-stuff, my training went haywire and I am just about as unprepared for a marathon as I ever have been. However, I am also as relaxed as I ever have been – I’m not hyper-aware of the weather forecast, I don’t have all my gear piled up and ready to go in the suitcase, I can enjoy a drink without fretting whether alcohol will make me lethargic. It is liberating somehow. And as my husband points out, “You did the work to get there. Now just go have some fun.” And in that spirit, I have decided to go the colorful route, so here is a sampling of the some of the gear I will be wearing: Run Color

By the way, in Sascha’s agility trial, she did indeed zoom off into her wild blue yonder. But it sure looked like she was having a grand time! Agility 006

Fun

fun
This will be a truncated post. I could kvetch about all the obstacles put into my path lately and complain bitterly about how this is impacting my ability to a) prepare for the Boston marathon, and b) prepare for my 100-mile race in August. However, I will refrain. And I will remember two things:

1) This is FUN. It is recreation. This is not my job, not my career, not my life. If it isn’t FUN, it shouldn’t be done.

and

2) You do the best you can, under the circumstances. Everyone lines up having endured or experienced different factors or conditions. You can only really control one thing – your attitude.

So there.  Thanks for listening.  And go have some fun. By the way, the 2 big white dogs are VERY good at this.

Vagabond Feb. 2013 067 Fun

Curve Balls

Curve ballI’m usually not one to use sports metaphors, especially baseball ones. It is not my favorite sport – but never say never.

Life, it seems, has thrown me more than one curve ball lately. And I have discovered that I ain’t much of a catcher. On the upside (just your standard fast ball), I was able to run 12 miles yesterday morning despite a nagging achilles/tibialis posterior/lower leg dysfunction. If this was the only funky pitch I had to handle, I would be coping okay – this ‘lil old pain issue is being addressed (thanks to help from Lee Carman at Pain Solutions, Dawn Powell at Bridges Integrative Health and Dr. Tim Schardein at Vital Chiropractic), and although I am scaling back my goals for the Boston marathon, I will run it.

However, outta left field, life decided I should attempt to handle not only a curve ball, but a series of knuckle balls, or better yet, screw balls. Without getting into the long and gore of it, this has made me quite uncharacteristically pessimisstic, listless, depressed and well, angry. And anger ain’t pretty, and it makes your personal relationships strained, to say the least. And that creates even more challenges. Which just feeds the cycle of pessimism/listlessness/depression/anger.

But that’s life, I know. You don’t always get to, if you will, bat a thousand.

And I need to step up to the plate. (I know, I know, this baseball jargon is getting a bit much.) My optimistic side is thinking that I can indeed get through this rough patch, and that maybe there are some parallels here to the kind of physical and emotional challenges I will face in my 100 mile trail race. If I can get there, physically. If I can get there, emotionally.

My pessimisstic side, which seems to be in control at the moment, seriously questions the notion that I will get a shot at that race. (Yes, wrong sport, I realize.)

But, then again, you can be two strikes down, and it ain’t the end of the game. So, I say, play ball, life, play ball. Let’s just see who wins.