Speed Limit

While cruising mostly on grass and through a short asphalt section (at Manteo Middle School) I realized I can finally break the speed limit! And with that discovery came the thought that my weight loss has reached a plateau because I still perceive 100 miles as a long distance within one week. As a result I have been eating more with a fear mindset, the fear that I won't have enough calories to meet the year-long goal. Well, reading Meditations From the Breakdown Lane has significantly helped adjust that perspective. So I am now determined to run 100 miles between Sunday and Wednesday each of the last twelve weeks so I can use Thursday and Friday to hammer out other exercises to get under my fastest lifetime running weight. Week 41 was a successful 101.6 miles in 4 days with added swimming, biking, and the elliptical on Thursday and Friday. But what has been a more noticeable benefit is the mental rest; I have not been absorbed with "have to" and have been truly able to enjoy the "want to." See you in two weeks (another adjustment I have made...less blogging during the last quarter).

Continuity

I have been going to the local YMCA more as of late to avoid the heat and maintain the feel of a constant leg turnover. But this morning it is 2:51 a.m., two hours before the Y opens, and a long work day is on the horizon (starting after sunrise) so I am engaging a 12-mile outside jaunt primarily within the visual confines of a headlamp. It is immediately noticeable within the first five to eight miles that the treadmill efforts have trained my body to move forward with fairly consistent and patient strides. However, beyond the 8-mile mark while approaching the Washington Baum Bridge on the return to Manteo, NC I had to dig deeper.

So I began mentally perusing the first chapter of a new running book I just started reading in the last few days. It is titled Meditations From The Breakdown Lane: Running Across America (by James E. Shapiro). Ironically, the decision to purchase the book came after watching the documentary The 3000 Mile Men (a film by Ben J. Southern) which shares the journey of Chris Finill and Steve Pope. It is ironic because the documentary could be considered rather plain/raw relative to other running movies. So much so you may find yourself not wanting to finish watching it. But I held on to the end (through the dryness) because perhaps the movie grasps the realness of running. Running is an unsophisticated spartan activity. And that is what kept my attention. It is almost a challenge to see if you can hold yourself in that moment of not wanting more or less (from the film) than the simple act of moving forward. Yes, that's it. Anyway, in the film Chris Finill mentioned this book and how he read it one sitting, and that it was a key motivator to run across the U.S. Anyway, back to the mental perusing...

It was this quote (from page 10) within a powerful passage that fueled me to push harder, when Jim Shapiro describes going beyond the 34th mile of a forty-to-fifty mile run, "I like being forced up against the wall a little so that I have to fight." Honestly up to this point in my running I have always relished when the feeling is seemingly effortless and have had that as my primary goal; learn to run so you can run your desired distance/race with ease. But Shapiro's desire to wallow in a place demanding grit has opened my mind to a new place to go. And so I went, pushing my resistant body.

It was going exceptionally well until nearing the end of the bridge. With about 150 meters to go a very large truck (tractor trailer) hugged the white line demarcation between the running/bike lane and the four lane road. I could call him/her a pavement-greedy asshole with a chip on their shoulder as they could have easily moved into the other lane, there were no passing cars/trucks and it was two lanes in the same direction. But I won't call them that even though I immediately stopped and hugged my body as close as possible to the side of the bridge when seeing the truck aggressively approach. Fortunately, their wheels never crossed into the run/bike lane so I was able to move on unharmed, finish faster than my planned pace, and then point to the sky as an expression of gratitude as continuity was certain in week 39 of The Streak. See you next week.



 

Complete Rest

While being beat into submission by the heat this week I still managed to keep The Streak alive. The final tally was 100.8 miles despite running around and through frequent lightning and pop-up storms. Just yesterday, on the last outing to meet the needed distance, I was being pelted by progressively heavier raindrops when trying to run from the rainbow over this bridge (pictured above). Playing it safe (earlier in the week) I even signed up at the YMCA to log some distance on a treadmill. That's how it goes with this 100 miles/week goal for one year, there is no option to put off today's run regardless of the weather or "I'm tired." If one week runs short the whole quest is over, and an "Almost did it" attempt fades into "Oh well." Having just passed 4,000 miles (with only 3 more months to go) the drive to stay with it has even more momentum. But these happenstances and insights are taking a backseat to complete rest.

Yes, this has been the valued discovery over the last six days. It was while I was ravenously devouring a just-released-from-the-oven Biscuits N' Porn cheddar biscuit. Stop, wait, I have to share it was so fresh that you could watch the cheese spread and crystallize into a perfectly even distribution through a hefty and beautiful white flour matrix. Ok, back to the eating. I was clearly modeling a voracious raccoon who had just knocked over a garbage can and heard people nearby. Anyway, it was mid-third-bite that I paused for a moment, aggressively quieted my mind that was nervously trying to visualize the final six miles of this run, slowly raised my head, and allowed my eyes to glaze over. A mental coma then ensued that serenely blocked out the typical post-sunrise breakfast background humdrum of this frequented gem of a gas station-restaurant in the Outer Banks. Yes, there it was, the moment. I finally, without intention, released into the moment I am naming complete rest. It was truly its own nirvana. A state I had only been previously searching for and periodically appreciating in repetitive motion. But not now. Not in this moment. I was perfectly stationary in a laminated booth at a no-frills diner. After what I guess was the right amount of time to embrace this pause, this non-thought, non-reflection space, I returned to finishing the biscuit with a more patient demeanor. And the visuals of the next six miles didn't return...they just unfolded after I put one foot in front of the other again. See you next week.