Waxing Inspirational
Nine years ago I had the pleasure of spending the summer in Australia. One of my biggest regrets over the past near-decade I have had about that excursion was that I had the chance to get a hand-made-for-me didgeridoo and I didn't take it. Now, I feel that I can add something else to that list:
The fact that I didn't run ONCE the entire time I was there.
Sure, I hiked (a LOT), scuba dived, snorkeled, and plain ol' swam. I went kayaking, did some climbing, rode horses, and planted a whole bunch of trees. But one thing I never did while I was there was run.
For years post-college I had an on-again off-again relationship with fitness (yoga being my only consistent activity that I have engaged in all this time, and even that isn't completely regular). I had a couple gym memberships during these years, tried to maintain a healthy diet, and stayed relatively active. This resulted in my actually going for a run during my short trip to Germany (out in public where people could SEE), but avoiding it at all costs, DESPITE all of the other physical activities I engaged in, while I was at grad school (and thus, living in the mountains where I now know running is simply a joy). Hell, I even ran an outdoor camp at that time that included rafting, mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking, etc. But still, I avoided running. The fact of the matter was that I never found running to be FUN. I mean, come on! Running is what you do when you're being chased. Not what you do when you want to have a good time, right?
Then, in the year following earning my Masters, I finally got to move-in full time with Magus, took my very first desk job, attempted to plan a wedding, and watched my father's health swiftly deteriorate from afar.
Needless to say, chocolate chip cookies were more my weapon of choice when looking for a good time that year then running was.
Post-wedding came our "extreme" honeymoon, with activities that I had very happily planned including hiking (LOTS of it), rafting, kayaking, riding, etc. And lo' and behold, it felt like it nearly killed me. As it turned out, all of the cookies I had turned to during the year had taken a toll, without my having noticed.
So, post honey-moon, I set out to lose some weight, and get back in shape. I joined Weight Watchers for about 6-months, got my diet under control (goodbye cookies), and started engaging in some regular mild activities. Hell, I even went for a run three whole times! For about 15 minutes at a shot. It was hell.
We then packed our bags and moved out of NoVA and back up to Jersey. Mild to moderate exercise remained the norm (minus the running), and Weight Watchers was basically left in the dust (I still avoided the cookies for a while though, as they are my kryptonite). Then, in March 2007 I got it in my head to start running. And, what's more, to attempt to complete a triathlon.
No, I wasn't on drugs.
This was a goal I set myself. I no longer wanted to give in to the easy excuse of not doing it because it wasn't "fun", I couldn't fall back on the only being willing to run if I was being chased, cause frankly, at the point if I needed to run for my life there was no way that I even COULD. The fact of the matter was that I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could push myself, and still come out breathing on the other side.
Never in a million years did I ever think they day would come when running would be a joy. Sure, it can still be a chore sometimes. Work is rough, sleep is slim, the world inside my Xbox is oh-so-shiny, and some days (hell, some WEEKS even), that elusive runners high never makes an appearance.
But, oh, when it does, when it does, there is so very little else to compare. It's not about split times, or finish lines, or medals. It's about the sound of my foot when it hits the pavement. When the rain has just finished soaking the earth, and everything has that late-spring haze to it. When I can feel that every single step, every last beat of foot to ground is a success story. When I get the urge to push myself just a little bit more. When I finally get to to the end and want to keep going. In those moments, its worth every last bit of time and energy and wishing-I-was-doing-anything-else-at-the-moment feelings preceding it.
Sure, I'm thrilled that a 7-minute mile is looking to be within my grasp sometime soon (although not in repetition - let's not get crazy here). That's a BIG milestone for me. But its not about that. Because most days? Most days I'm slow. Most runs, that high never shows up. Every triathlon I do, I wait until the 2 to 2.5 mile marker of the run (at the very END of the race) to even begin to feel it. And sometimes it doesn't ever come. But its not about that.
It's about every single running and fitness cliche in the book. It's about the sound of my feet, and the wind on my face, and the air in my lungs. All of it simply incredible.
That's what its about.
Oh yeah, and getting to eat cookies occasionally too. :-P
The fact that I didn't run ONCE the entire time I was there.
Sure, I hiked (a LOT), scuba dived, snorkeled, and plain ol' swam. I went kayaking, did some climbing, rode horses, and planted a whole bunch of trees. But one thing I never did while I was there was run.
For years post-college I had an on-again off-again relationship with fitness (yoga being my only consistent activity that I have engaged in all this time, and even that isn't completely regular). I had a couple gym memberships during these years, tried to maintain a healthy diet, and stayed relatively active. This resulted in my actually going for a run during my short trip to Germany (out in public where people could SEE), but avoiding it at all costs, DESPITE all of the other physical activities I engaged in, while I was at grad school (and thus, living in the mountains where I now know running is simply a joy). Hell, I even ran an outdoor camp at that time that included rafting, mountain biking, rock climbing, hiking, etc. But still, I avoided running. The fact of the matter was that I never found running to be FUN. I mean, come on! Running is what you do when you're being chased. Not what you do when you want to have a good time, right?
Then, in the year following earning my Masters, I finally got to move-in full time with Magus, took my very first desk job, attempted to plan a wedding, and watched my father's health swiftly deteriorate from afar.
Needless to say, chocolate chip cookies were more my weapon of choice when looking for a good time that year then running was.
Post-wedding came our "extreme" honeymoon, with activities that I had very happily planned including hiking (LOTS of it), rafting, kayaking, riding, etc. And lo' and behold, it felt like it nearly killed me. As it turned out, all of the cookies I had turned to during the year had taken a toll, without my having noticed.
So, post honey-moon, I set out to lose some weight, and get back in shape. I joined Weight Watchers for about 6-months, got my diet under control (goodbye cookies), and started engaging in some regular mild activities. Hell, I even went for a run three whole times! For about 15 minutes at a shot. It was hell.
We then packed our bags and moved out of NoVA and back up to Jersey. Mild to moderate exercise remained the norm (minus the running), and Weight Watchers was basically left in the dust (I still avoided the cookies for a while though, as they are my kryptonite). Then, in March 2007 I got it in my head to start running. And, what's more, to attempt to complete a triathlon.
No, I wasn't on drugs.
This was a goal I set myself. I no longer wanted to give in to the easy excuse of not doing it because it wasn't "fun", I couldn't fall back on the only being willing to run if I was being chased, cause frankly, at the point if I needed to run for my life there was no way that I even COULD. The fact of the matter was that I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could push myself, and still come out breathing on the other side.
Never in a million years did I ever think they day would come when running would be a joy. Sure, it can still be a chore sometimes. Work is rough, sleep is slim, the world inside my Xbox is oh-so-shiny, and some days (hell, some WEEKS even), that elusive runners high never makes an appearance.
But, oh, when it does, when it does, there is so very little else to compare. It's not about split times, or finish lines, or medals. It's about the sound of my foot when it hits the pavement. When the rain has just finished soaking the earth, and everything has that late-spring haze to it. When I can feel that every single step, every last beat of foot to ground is a success story. When I get the urge to push myself just a little bit more. When I finally get to to the end and want to keep going. In those moments, its worth every last bit of time and energy and wishing-I-was-doing-anything-else-at-the-moment feelings preceding it.
Sure, I'm thrilled that a 7-minute mile is looking to be within my grasp sometime soon (although not in repetition - let's not get crazy here). That's a BIG milestone for me. But its not about that. Because most days? Most days I'm slow. Most runs, that high never shows up. Every triathlon I do, I wait until the 2 to 2.5 mile marker of the run (at the very END of the race) to even begin to feel it. And sometimes it doesn't ever come. But its not about that.
It's about every single running and fitness cliche in the book. It's about the sound of my feet, and the wind on my face, and the air in my lungs. All of it simply incredible.
That's what its about.
Oh yeah, and getting to eat cookies occasionally too. :-P