Running

A little diversion today. A run for me is a sacred thing. I began competitive running in high school--and was good at it--well, it was good for me, so I felt "good" at it! I first started in cross country. I loved that because, for women then--at least at my high school, there was not a separate training accordance, we ran with the boys. A fond memory of running "with the boys" was when they all gathered around me and tossed me into a pond we used to have to run around--it was not funny when I came up and my head was bleeding from hitting a rock. Don't get me wrong, they were all very kind--this was not a mean act, I think it was my birthday or something--thankfully, I was fine, my uniform was not. The girls and guys who ran were cool, we were great friends who helped motivate each other along the way--a very team spirit attitude, though a very solitude-type of sport. We had a tough coach--a man. He made us drink pure salt water (yuck, right, NO-we loved it!) to quench our thirst--but what was even greater is that this cold salt water always came with crushed ice: pre-Gatorade. The girls I ran with all had their own personal strategies for having great finish times--I just wanted to beat the first place senior--I was then a sophomore--she was my inspiration for always trying harder. I was lucky in that anytime I could see her head in front of me during a cross country race, I knew my finish time was going to be a good one. Our CC wins made the papers a few times. In the off season, I ran track (or is it in the off season, I ran CC)--anyway, it kept me in shape--not that I needed a weight management program back then--(different story today), I really did not--eating a box of Twinkies after school was nothing to me--plus I had my part time job scooping ice cream--wow, I was a lucky kid. My track season helped my cross country time. I was a 2 mile relay racer--passing the baton--not an easy thing. I tried hurdles, it hurt. I quit. I kept the two-mile in place. I loved running. I kept running through my 20s, dropped off a bit in my 30s and picked it back up. I am a runner today.

I feel that running has saved my life in so many ways. When I picked it up in high school, I was literally a newbie to our town. I had moved from pretty far away, and I did not have a southern accent--I really needed to belong, to start with something. My race times helped me fit in. I wish I had stuck with it, that is, the competitive part, I may have been well-trained enough to have received a scholarship. Or not, but still. . .

Nine years ago I ran my first and only marathon. It was the biggest accomplishment of my life--and it was amazing. I could not believe I had carried my body for 26 miles--or it carried me. I had barely trained for it, was logging about six miles four times a week, ten on some weekends, but I never stretched to that thirteen miler you are supposed to do, then the 20 miler, etc. I just never did it. I showed up the Saturday before the run, and signed up--I don't recommend anyone ever do this. I had all I needed: my husband's support and our good friend in attendance the day of the marathon. It rained the whole run--I finished in less than five hours, I was quite pleased, wet and sore. Then, seven years ago I had knee surgery on both knees and learned I had plica band syndrome and that my knee caps were crooked and full of cartilage. (I so wanted prettier knees in high school, NOW I know why they looked so odd!) I put my orthopedic surgeon through quite a grilling--I made a special appointment just to interview HIM! I stressed that I had, HAD to run again, no questions. He understood, paid attention, and here I am today, still a runner. BTW, I did not need one single day of physical therapy, I did it all by myself. I am sort of a "type-A" if you will, I don't like being sick or being "down" and unable to run. I went in for my post visit and his nurse actually called him out from another room to see this amazing woman dancing in the hall--I think it made his day! I wish my fellow runners all of the same luck should this "surgery" thing ever come to pass--you will get through it!

So, this morning I went on my run and where I live it is fairly hilly. I like morning runs the most and I like to run this time of year more than any other time. It is just perfect running weather right now. (I began a fundraiser that is a run and it just so happens to take place in the fall--I'll talk more about it the closer it gets.) Anyway, on my run this morning, I was hitting "dread hill"--it is exactly as it sounds--I dread it. Well, as I was dragging myself up, head down, (No looking the hill straight on--my coach used to say)--I glance to the side and there in a doorway is a man with a cup of coffee in his hands watching all of this take place--panting, very tired, bent over, NOT looking up. Very disconcerting. Just sipping his coffee, as calm and relaxed as can be. I thought, what if I collapsed right here--what would happen, I run past this house all the time. I rarely see folks out when I run--I try to book it that way--I don't like all the stares, I like the solitude and quiet. It shocked me is all, you run in the peace and quiet of the morning--a deer may dash in front of you--that happened this morning and it was so cool! But Mr. Coffee at the screen door? Yikes--I picked up my pace and cleared the hill pretty quickly--did not look back. That's the other thing--never look back--always in front. I love racing with groups and then have someone in front looking back--that's when I take them, well, most of the time I do--or they laugh at me, and then move even farther ahead. I guess they didn't have the coach I had.