Adaptation

Imagine we're finally going on our dream vacation. We count down first the weeks, then days, then minutes and finally the day arrives. It does not start out well. We are flying to our destination and boarding is delayed by 30 minutes. It's ok though, with a 90 minute layover in Chicago we can still make our connection. We board; 60 minutes late. It'll be tight for the connection but we can still do it. Then we sit on the tarmac, interminably. It becomes obvious that we are not making our connection. Nor the next connection. Soon it seems like we might miss the last flight form Chicago to San Francisco. Finally we take off. The relief of actually having forward momentum mitigates the extreme frustration of the long, unpredictable wait on the tarmac. Arrive in Chicago. We have indeed missed the last flight to San Francisco. Quick math. Even though we will be forced to spend the night in Chicago, if we forego the day hiking we were going to do in Death Valley, we can still make it to the Cottonwood Pass trailhead outside of Lone Pine, California by the date on our backcountry wilderness permit which we applied for 6 months ago; we can still make it up Mount Whitney and hike the last section of John Muir trail we have yet to do (ok, it looks like we are going on my dream vacation here, we can do yours next time).

Next morning, all flights to San Francisco are oversold. We are on stand-by with not much prospect of getting out before late afternoon. Frustration mounts. Now we will also have to forego the pre-backpacking expedition to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in the White Mountains outside of Lone Pine and jump right onto the trail to respect the dates on our wilderness permit. At last, a break. An earlier flight to Los Angeles has opened up. We can change our car rental, fly into LA and drove from there. We give up our spots on the lengthy San Fran stand-by list and run to the LA gate, only to be told the flight has closed (with empty seats on it!) and we will not be allowed to board. We run back to the San Fran gate and take a now, even lower spot on the stand-by list. Frustration is extreme. This vacation has been in the making for a year. The thought of it has been keeping us sane during some trying times at work and home.

Finally, seats open up on the last flight of the day to San Francisco. We are now a full 36 hours behind schedule but we have made the mental adjustment. Frustration and disappointment have ebbed. Our new reality is that we are 36 hours late; we are working in this framework. We have  mourned the loss of the Death Valley excursion and the Ancient Bristle Cone Pines and have adjusted to the reality of our truncated vacation. It feels good just to have a seat on a San Francisco-bound airplane. We don't even notice or care that the seats are small and uncomfortable. The fact that we are not sitting together and each have a dreaded middle seat, aisles apart is a trivial detail. We are on our way and we are grateful! We are still going to be able to summit Mount Whitney and finish the final stretch of the john Muir trail we have never done.

It's strange though because we were the last to board this plane. The air hostess urged us to hurry as she gate checked our carry on that there was no hope of finding a spot for on the already packed plane. We were so elated to finally be on the plane that it took a good twenty minutes to register that we have not actually pushed back. In fact the cabin door has not even been closed. It's almost as if... the thought is interrupted by the inevitable announcement: Minor delay. Might be just a faulty indicator. Waiting for maintenance. Thank you for your patience. And of course it is not just a faulty indicator, there is a real problem that will prevent this aircraft from leaving the ground. Though of course it takes close to three hours to ascertain that. The de-planning is interminable. Retrieving the baggage seems like a cruel joke especially when it takes extra long due to the departure of most of the baggage handlers given the late hour of the day. The good vibrations of relief and gratitude have long vanished, the rage, frustration and despair have returned acutely. We are too discouraged and disappointed to do the mental math. The equations are not in our favor.

The next morning, a stroke of luck, we are winging our way on the first flight to San Francisco. We are exhausted having only gotten 4 hours of sleep after arriving into a motel late after the luggage debacle and then returning to the airport early in the hopes of catching this very flight. Exhausted but cautiously elated. We work up the gumption to return to the mental calculations. We can forego the summit of Whitney and just do the planned portion of the John Muir trail. We can go to the Wilderness Office in Lone Pine and get our entry and exits adjusted on our permit. It will all work out. Then, a surprising twist, favorable headwinds hasten our arrival into San Francisco.We are jubilant. In fact, if one could quantify happiness, we are actually far more content at the moment we touch down a generous 20 minutes ahead of schedule than we would have been in the alternate reality in which we reached San Francisco almost 48 hours earlier.

The ability of the human brain to adapt to new conditions, to mourn the passing of a certain reality and move to work within the framework of a new reality is incredible to me. The fact that we can be elated by arriving 20 minutes early rather than enraged that we are arriving 47 hours and 40 minutes late is one of the triumphs of the human brain and spirit. Because of course I am not talking about taking a vacation and delayed flights, it's a convenient analogy for almost any forced adaptation in life. It's a convenient analogy for things I don't really feel comfortable writing about directly. It is astounding to me how the human brain can, after awhile, accept a new reality and rejoice in "good news" that prior to the adjustment/adaptation ago would have been disastrous news. To move away from the somewhat trite airplane analogy; it is amazing to me, for example, that a person could be involved in a horrific accident, become permanently disabled, adjust to the new life, make the most of this new life and find new opportunities within the framework. It is amazing to me that a person dying of a terminal illness can receive a modicum of good news about their condition and within the framework that their illness remains terminal, celebrate this news as heartily as they may have celebrated any joyous life occasion. The ability of the human mind to bend, adapt, accept and optimize is a wondrous thing.

Time

Everyone seems to be in agreement that time goes by way too fast. The little annoyances, waiting at the bank, doing your taxes, waiting for a light to change, seem to take forever but the weeks and months fly by. I have never felt this so acutely as since we implemented a development process called scrum at work. Without going into the specifics,it essentially works on a month long cycle and the end of each cycle culminates in various activities one of which is called a retrospective during which the development team meets to inspect and adapt their development process. I lead the retrospective meeting. During our last retrospective, I almost couldn't breathe; I was gripped in disorientation positive that we had had this same meeting just yesterday. I blinked my eyes and we were in yet another retrospective. Another month of life gone.

Then of course there is the fiercely annoying cliche that everyone and their cousin (and most recently the man who took my money as I was paying for gas) will beat you over the head with if you even dare look like you are in anything but in pure bliss over your children. Say it with me: "Enjoy them now... they...grow...up...so...fast." Or some varia thereof (last one was "before you know it, you'll be crying at their wedding." to which I wanted to reply "Gosh, I hope not, I have nothing against lesbian couples but I think sisters marrying each other would be a little unhealthy.").

So yes, time goes by too fast. We all agree. Enjoy your (kids/health/childhood) it'll be gone before you know it. You will scream with regret in a few years that you did not enjoy these precious days more!!! But how? How do we enjoy these precious times now? How do we ensure that we are not wracked with regret over not having lived our fully? Given that time is marching on in a constant manner dictated by the orbit of the earth around the sun and is not likely to yield to our desires to hold on to anything; how do we seize the day, so to speak?

This is something I really have been asking myself as I seem to be trying to hold on to a number of fleeting things right now, obviously my children's youth and others too painful to go into. The only thing I come up with are more cliches yet nonetheless they are good practices which I have to remind myself of. Live in the moment. I often find myself mentally fast forwarding over whatever it is I am doing now in anticipation of the next day's event. Just trying to "get through" my run so that I can "get through" getting the kids to daycare so that I can "get through" my day at work so that I can "get through" getting the kids fed and to bed so that I can "get through" tidying up the house so that I can... you get the idea. Sometimes it feels something akin to mental resistance training to shift this attitude but if I don't wind up living only for a few moments on week-end days or for our annual vacation (which we are on now actually, Hello Wisconsin!). I think people who live lives without regret are those who find pleasure in mundane tasks. Perhaps the people who are happiest use time in line at the bank to mentally re-live a happy memory or to plan an approach to a challenging problem. Living without regret means both (sorry here come the cliches) making the most of every moment (while appreciating that some moments consist of much needed downtime), living in the moment, finding pleasure in the ordinary and being aware of one's good fortune. For me, I need to stop living my life like a checklist of things to get through and be present for what I am doing right now. Something as  simple as taking pleasure in the feeling of stretching a sore calf or using time at an interminable traffic light to start a new game with Thing 1. I hope if I live this way, when I am 70 I will not spend my time admonishing strangers to enjoy their children ! health ! youth ! because I will be too busy enjoying my moment.

In which I get my body back

It's back. My body I mean. I don't know where it went but for awhile the body I was taking on runs was just dragging ass. I would go to the track fully intending to do 5 X 1 km at around 3.40-3.45 per km and inevitably (and this happened at least three times) I would instead run the first km in 4.05 or slower, wheeze, feel horrible and then decide to do a 5-6 km tempo instead which I would complete in about 4:10-4:15 pace. No matter what I tried, rest, hydration, upping my asthma inhaler, I seemed to be in this rut where my quality sessions consisted a 20-25 minute tempo. After running 2 10 km races in a row at 40:00 minutes exactly, I resigned myself to deciding that I just could not run the times I used to while working full time, caring for two children, getting older and getting fatter. My days of running the kinds of times I wanted to were over I decided.

Then, a glimmer of hope. I volunteered to be the 18:30 rabbit for a 5 km time trial. I thought that surely I could eek out a mile or 2 km at 18:30 pace and it seemed like these ladies mostly needed someone to stop them from going out too fast; not going too fast being my speciality right now, I decided to step up! I lasted 1.4 km at 18:30 pace and then I could feel the ladies impatiently breathing down my neck so I pulled out to lane 2 and encouraged them to go by all the while realizing that although I could not hold this pace for 5 km, all things considered I was not feeling too badly off. I deliberately slowed down for a few laps and then came back alive in the last km for a final time of 19:03 (3:41, 3:47, 3:53, 3:54, 3:46). Encouraging, especially given that there was a smog warning in effect at the time. Smog being the ultimate downer for us asthmatic canaries in the mine.

Then today I got a rare window of opportunity to run at a reasonable hour (7.00 am) where I was not too constrained for time and so could warm-up properly. Cautiously optimistic, I headed to the track to try some tentative mile repeats. Over the past 8 weeks, I have managed one mile repeat work-out: 6:23, 6:30, 6:30, 6:22 and that nearly slayed me. Today, with the smog lifted, cool temperatures, and a slight breeze encouraging me, I stepped up to the line and ran a 6:03. Like it was nothing. Like I was on a picnic and jogging back to the car for the forgotten lemonade. I thought surely the wheels would fall off but no, a modest 2 minute rest later, another 6:03. Then 5:54, 5:59 and finally 5:52. It really, truly feels like someone else lent me their body for this work-out. I don't know where this work-out came from but it is my mental gift of the month. So encouraging. I haven't run those times for over 3 years. I know now my recent sluggishness is not because I am older (I am), not because I am fatter (I am), not because I am training less than I used to (I am) but probably due to sleep deprivation and oxygen deprivation (bad asthma days). And those types of deprivations are fleeting. I just have to find the right air quality day, when i have had a good night's sleep and I can run my times again. I believe! I know I will eventually slow down, it is the fate of the aging runner (and in runner years I am in my fifties or sixties given that I have now been training hard and racing for 25 years) but this morning's work-out was such a gift; it tells me I have a few 18 minute 5 kms left to run!

 

Faces of Races

I've never bought any of the photos taken by professional photographers at road races with the exception of a set from the Philadelphia Marathon which I then gave to members of my famliy for Christmas (really? what was I thinking? At the time they insisted they wanted them which was sweet of them anyway...). But it is nice having the link to photos of most races I've run right there next to my name in the results. Faces of Races. A permanent record of faces of pain, triumph, bad fashion choices, ill thought out sunglasses.

May 2013: It feels like a 35:59, but alas it's a 39:58. The dreaded season of tree pollen, makes me breathe not so much.

May 2013: So spent after a massive asthma attack, I am practically walking across the finish line... in 40:03 (yes, better stop that watch, who knows that ginormous chip on the back of your bib may malfunction!)

June 2008: Casually jogging it in for 18.13 5 km because I had given up on running "fast" (Hey Younger PPC - enjoy that 18.13, they're going to become scarce! (oh and while you're at it, buy stock in google). Hey Present Day PPC enjoy that 39.58 and the relatively fit and healthy body that allowed you to run it!

October 2010: one of my best recent races, a 17.52 5 km in which I was 100% focussed and committed and finished absolutely on my knees; you'd never know it from the casual expression here 200 m from the finish with my tongue LITERALLY in my cheek.

 

March 2010: Racing at my ideal running weight and cruising to a 17.55 (and my GINORMOUS mittens probably broke 17:50).

 

March 2009: Racing on the same course one year before the previous picture about 15 pounds over my ideal racing weight but with a 5 month old fetus on board.

 

 

September 2011: "Racing" the 1 km with Thing 1 and learning it is far easier to get across the finish line with the baby inside than outside. In actuality I was experiencing both as Thing 2 was safely tucked away inside me when this photo was taken.

 



Don't call child services, things were much better just a few seconds later.

July 2012: And even better a little under a year later as Thing 1 found the joy in crossing the finish line under her own power.

 

September 2012: Bad hair

 

 

April 2013: Bad form

 

June 2009: All I remember is that grass felt so good after 9.6 km of pavement.

 

 

October 2007: Just a perfect fall day.

 

 

Thanks for the memories Z.o.om Photo (and sorry I am so cheap!). I promise to start shelling out some bucks for the photos when Thing 1 & Thing 2 start hitting the roads some more.







Newfound freedom

It has been so long since I last wrote anything other than work-related text that whatever narrative ability I ever had has completely atrophied. Finally, I bring fingers to keyboard to celebrate my latest and now favorite running gadget, in fact I love it so much, I took a double. Thing1 and Thing 2, your Chariot awaits (your 2007 CX2 Chariot that is...)

I love the chariot for many reasons (and apparently I love it way more than Thing 2 does in this photo). First off, despite being almost 7 years old (purchased second hand), it rolls like a dream. On flat, even ground there is barely any percpetible extra effort over running alone. The only real increase in effort comes from not being able to swing my arms and not from the actual pushing of the chariot. And even then, the chariot rolls so straight that I find I often give it a firm push and run for a few strides behind it without even touching it. Or, sometimes to the kids dismay, I give it a push and then pick up my pace and run in front of it waving cheerfully at them.

From an assembly/disassembly standpoint, it is super easy even for a klutz like me. I did not watch the previous owner disassemble it and yet I was able to put it together, without instructions, in under 2 minutes. The quality of manufacturing is very apparent in the way the pieces are constructed and fit together. Fully disassembled, it takes less room than I expected. We easily fit it into the trunk of our Hyundai Elantra Touring with room to spare for other items. I had always assumed that if I ever did take the plunge into the double running stroller world, I would not be able to use it as a means of transport for the kids to daycare simply because it would consume too much real estate in the small sized storage room our daycare has to offer for strollers. I am actually feeling optimistic that I will be able to store the CX2 there after all without annoying too many people.

It is also worth mentioning the storage space; there is ample storage space behind the children though overloading it does mean the items will press into the passengers backs.

And the reason I love the CX 2 the most; here is what transpires within the first 5 minutes of the run:

Ok, so one out of two isn't bad... and the one who isn't asleep is still awfully happy. Which kind of highlights the one major drawback. The passengers cannot recline in the Chariot which makes my primary purpose for this stroller somewhat awkward; I was hoping to use it at night to put both chlidren to sleep while ALSO getting my run in. Thing 1, who can sometimes be a tough nut to crack, is clearly demonstrating above that the lack of a proper business class lie-flat seat might mean sleeping by stroller is not feasible.

Overall though I am hoping that having the CX2 in our lives will mean using the car less and therefore reducing our environmental footprint and saving on gas and wear and tear on our 2009 Elantra Touring. In return I hope to increase the mileage on the 1974 PiccolaPineCone because she is in a sorry state of unfit these days...

Talent and Beauty

I ran 18:36 today in a 5 km race today. Off of pretty much no training. At first I didn't understand it. I have been barely training; we're talking 47 km a week has been a cause for celebration lately. I think there is no getting around the fact that I am talented. Wow does that sound obnoxious to just state that outright but here's the thing, I don't think it is bragging to tell people I am talented. Talent, athletic or otherwise, is something one is born with. It's all all just down to random luck of the genetic draw. How can I be proud of or brag about being talented? It is absolutely not an accomplishment. In a weird way, it has nothing to do with me. It has solely to do with which one of thousands of eggs were released to be met by which of millions of sperm on the day I was conceived. I can't be proud of being talented; I did nothing to earn it. It's kind of like being beautiful (which I am definitely not). How can anyone be proud of being beautiful? How is it even a compliment to call someone beautiful? It's rather just a (somewhat subjective) statement of fact. Again, it's all down to the genetic odds. You're born beautiful or (in my case) not. No accomplishment on anyone's part involved. There are characteristics related to these things which are true accomplishment:

-talented athlete: not an accomplishment; working hard and consistently: accomplishment

-beautiful: not an accomplishment; being well groomed and well put together (which I am also sadly not): accomplishment

-intelligent: not an accomplishment; well-read, knowledgeable or a big thinker: accomplishment

 So what then constitutes talent for a runner anyway? How can we precisely define talent. I have come to the conclusion that it means foremost, the extent to which an athlete improves fitness in response to a given workload. A highly talented runner will improve fitness to a greater degree in response to a given work-out than a less talented runner. That is talent in its purest form. Then it gets somewhat greyer... talent also encompasses the ability of a runner to remain injury free (bio-mechanical talent) one might say, that is also purely random chance and genetics. There is the ability to endure pain and push through when common sense is screaming "slow down"... there I am not sure, is mental talent just genetic (which I firmly believe the other two items are) or is that something of which one can genuinely be proud? i.e. is this a real achievement. I think mental toughness is probably truly something that one achieves as opposed to talent which is just gifted.

Whatever. I am grateful to have the talent to make the minute amount of training I am able to squeeze in, pay some big dividends.

Race Report: You never do know

First there was a knee injury in December/January, followed by a torn intercoastal, closely on the heels of which came a fearsome flu. It was no wonder when once I was finally feeling better, a week-end came with good weather and I had access to babysitting for 2 hours on both Saturday and Sunday, I went a little nuts and ran kilometer repeats on the Saturday inside a 20 km run and then ran a 1:34 half marathon training run on the Sunday which naturally led to shin splints. Thereupon followed 2.5 weeks of training of near zero training (maybe 6 sessions total on an elliptical machine) and weight gain.

I started feeling able to run again on Friday and was thinking about running today's 5 km race. After what was supposed an easy 5:00/km jog yesterday would up being a killer 170+ heart rate killer slog 5:00/km jog, I was strongly reconsidering. It seemed I was fighting the latest daycare grunge and there was just no point in wasting the gas to get out to the race site and abadonning hubby and kids. Still and all, hubby had planned on watching them and I was already entered so I decided to go because you know.... you never know.

I got to the race site and promptly sat on a toilet in McDonald's for 10 minutes with massive stomach issues. Decided to go home. Realized that would mean no exercise today and reconsidered. Started to jog the course to warm up. Got to 2.5 km and was just so completely exhausted that I decided to walk back to the car and go home. I am usually pretty spot on about what my body can and cannot do (last race I thought I was in 40:30 shape and, I ran 40:30) and this time it felt like my body might not even finish. Thing is I had to walk past the start line to get to the car and at the start line I of course bumped into tons of people I know, hadn't seen in awhile and I got to chatting and before I knew it, I was taking off my sweats having forgotten in my distraction that I had decided not to run. That I had not, in fact, even completed my warm-up. By the time I remembered I wasn't running and had decided for the fourth time in 48 hours not to run, I was in the middle of the throng on the start line and the friend of a friend who had kindly volunteered to hold my sweats had disappeared with a promise to be at the finish line.

So I ran. I started off conservatively, 4:00 flat for the first km. Then I just started seeing tons and tons of ponytails ahead of me (the most effective way I know how to identify women runners in winter) and I kept thinking, well as long as I am here, I might as well pass that ponytail and score two more points for the series. Everytime I thought I would ease off and just coast in, another taunting ponytail would come into view. Bottom line, approximately 10 ponytails and 18 minutes and 54 seconds later I was at the finish line having run my second fastest 5 km since the birth of Thing 2 in complete shock. The last km was 3:30 spurred on by 3 ponytails (one of which got away).

This is an excellent reminder that sometimes the way one feels before the race has startling little correlation with the final result. The downside is that it can go the otherway as well - feel like Superwoman, run like Minnie Mouse. It was also very personally encouraging because as I have settled into working almost full-time again, it seems like for the forseeable future, training 4-5 times a week to the tune of 65/70 km per week is going to be all I can manage. It seems like it will be possible to get down to the kind of times I want to run with this amount of training if I was able to run 18:55 on substatially less training. Bring on the spring road race season!