Transition to Spring

Once again, I've plundered my "From the Editor" pieces from my running club's newsletter, with this piece from 2009. Enjoy.

How do you know when something is over? I don't mean something like an event or a movie or a song; I mean something more abstract, like an era, a movement, a feeling? A season?

Don't tell me you haven't pondered this before. Everybody , at some point in time, has wondered "When will this be over?!" For us runners, we often find comfort in the concrete routines of our sport: the familiar local races year after year, the same runners crossing paths through the park or along the trail, the constant cycle of training/tapering/racing/resting for the marathoners in our ranks, and the smiling faces in the crowd, wishing us luck. Those things we can rely on, can't we? Take them one-by-one and mull over each awhile.

Local races: they seem to organize themselves, don't they? And yet anyone who has helped plan, organize, and direct a race knows this is most certainly not the case. Do we mourn the dedication of the race staff and volunteers when we search for a registration form, only to find a notice that the race is no longer being held?

What about the people we see along our regular routes? Or the same people we see on the treadmills next to us at the local YMCA? Do we notice when they don't appear around the playground at mile three, or do we only catch their absence once the run is complete? When do we realize and accept that they may have *gulp* stopped running?

I don't think I need to expound on the craziness that is the marathoner's life, but that constant motion is part of the collective memory we have in reference to certain friends, right? I mean, we all have a friend or acquaintance who qualifies for and then runs the Boston Marathon each year. What if...they stopped?

And those faces in the crowd! If you're lucky, you'll be running long enough to see certain shifts in the position of the crowd. The speedy middle-aged guy in front of you three years ago is now more comfortable pacing his buddy, and may even drop out of the race once he's confident in his charge's performance. Eventually he'll make his way towards the middle and then the back of the pack. Before you know it, he'll be relegated to collecting registration forms and fees and handing out race t-shirts.

Spring is a transitional season for runners: we move from bundled up freaks wearing face masks and shed our layers of gear to reveal the (hopefully) lithe runner's body underneath. Those bodies hidden in the dormancy of winter are just aching to go, to move, to be seen.

And then.

We are obligated to ponder the transitions around us, we are forced into the uncomfortableness of change. At what point does a runner become a non-runner? When does a passion become a chore? When does the relationship get so comfortable that it is taken for granted? When does the season really change? Who can pin-point that? Not I, said the cat. And yet, I'm not sure I'd want to know, lest I apply my runner's sensibilities to resurrecting something that just may be better off left to fade away.

Don't forget to give thanks for those daily markers in your life. Quick now, before they fade away.

Farewell, Summer

So, the first week of school happened while I was in Denver for a work-related conference. No biggie, right? Well, except for Daughter #1 getting side-swiped in the car on her way to school (and whomever hit her decided to leave the scene...), all was well.  I'm surprised at how quickly and effortlessly my family fell back into their school year routines- Fall already! It seems like just last week that I was still tapping my foot and checking my watch, wondering why Summer hadn't shown up yet.  And so, in the wake of Summer's end, I present to you another installment of my "From The Editor" article, originally published in my running club's newsletter, circa September-October 2008, and re-worked for this venue.  Enjoy!

The other night, I put a quilt on my bed. Why does this matter? Well, because it was August when I wrote this, it was August that other night when I put the quilt on my bed, and as we all know, August is the month of Summer that is hot, sticky, sweltering, and most definitely un-quilt-ish.  So why the quilt? And why the following story?

Some of you get it already, and some of you have clicked away from this page.  Here it is:  Summer is over.

My heart broke as I wrote those words.  I love Summer unapologetically; I cast all affection to the season, caring not how the other seasons feel.  Spring may tease with its sporadic 70-degree days, and Fall may try to trick us into thinking there's sunshine, what with its flame-hued leaves and such.  Winter doesn't even try anymore- the cool blue and grey tones of the days are only fleetingly interrupted with glaring sunshine, momentarily making us Northern-dwelling folks forgo toques and gloves for a day.  But it is Summer days- the entire length of them- that I enjoy.

This Summer (as in the Summers of the past two years) I thought for sure that I would be able to languish at the beach with a blanket and a good book.  Work had other ideas for me.  My (Never-Ending) kitchen renovation and new patio had other ideas for me.  My family had other ideas for me.

Work renovation shopping laundry sleep patio work family vacuuming driving bargain hunting kids marathon stop to eat something anything renovation concrete splatter those bunnies are still here?

And that was just the first week of June.  I've never been very good at allowing myself to relax and slow down, even when I know I'll crash hard.  I had every intention of carving out a few hours for myself for unscheduled, unstructured alone time.  Well, we all know that saying about the path and how it is paved...

So I settled into a routine at work, Mr. Fix settled into a routine with the renovation and new patio, and Daughters #1 and #2 kept up their Summer tradition of eating breakfast at noon.  It wasn't until the summer program I run at work was complete that I realized I hadn't used any vacation days.  Not.  Even.  One.

At this point, I know I need to get away and relax, focus on nothing but whatever I like.  I know that my reward for (finally) indulging in some "Me Time" will be a sense of renewal and eagerness that has somehow slipped away with the days of June, July and August.  Is this what most people know as "revitalization of the spirit?" Today I am ready to face the start of another school year, another Fall marathon, and another Winter of cold cold cold cold cold!

And, maybe more importantly, I'm ready to accept that my "blanket and good book" meant for the beach are going to be my "quilt and good book" in my bed.

Keeping It In Perspective

For your reading pleasure, the latest installment of my "From the Editor" column for my running club's newsletter:

In the time-honored tradition of the women’s magazine questionnaire, a quiz of sorts:

Q: What is your motivation for running and/or training this year?
a) To lose those pesky 10 pounds you got for Christmas.
b) To FINALLY hit that race time you’ve been after for 10+ years.
c) To raise awareness for a charity or cause.
d) No one thing- you just love the feel of the wind on your face.
e) To keep your sanity for one more year.

Q: When training for a specific race or goal, you:
a) Do all of your workouts on a treadmill at the gym.
b) Strap on the latest in GPS and heart rate monitor technology.
c) Turn into a loner no one sees except on a training run.
d) Try a little too hard to recruit friends to train/run with you.
e) Keep telling yourself that all of this running keeps you sane.

Q: When discussing your training schedule with others:
a) They look at you like you’re bat-*!#$ crazy and roll their eyes.
b) You spend more time explaining running terms (fartleks, tempo runs, etc.).
c) They ask their doctor friends if what you’re doing is “normal” or “healthy.”
d) They desperately try to change the subject.
e) You justify your running with the phrase: “It keeps me sane!”

Q: You choose your races- marathons, half-marathons, trail runs, 5Ks- based on:
a) Proximity to where you live- no more than an hour from home.
b) Whether or not the course is known for being a fast “PR” course.
c) The size of the racing field- the bigger the better! Its a party!
d) Whether or not costumes are allowed & what the t-shirt looks like.
e) Logistics: Will training for and running this race make me insane?

Q: While reading through these questions:
a) You are proud of yourself and the goals you’ve set for this year.
b) You are really thinking of your next training run & if you have enough Gu.
c) You set the newsletter down because its messing with your mental energy.
d) You’re still thinking about costumes your running group can wear. Super heroes, anyone?
e) You look at your answers and think: People must think I’m insane!

What I really hope you’ve done is laugh at yourself and all of the running community. We tend to get a little caught up in how important we think we are, how special we think our sport is, how noble we think our causes are, and how our lives need to fit around our running rather than how our running can find a comfortable spot in our lives. Spring, more so than New Year’s Day, is the perfect time to reevaluate your life and make changes- new beginnings, you know? And for the record, I answered all of the questions “E!”

Have a great weekend.

Bring It On

Oh, that's right: its already been broughten! Happy 2009. For this post, I'm digging out and re-vamping a "From the Editor" piece from my running club's newsletter, the January-February 2008 edition. Maybe you're not a runner- and that's okay (you can still be my friend)- you'll just have to suffer the running references. Enjoy!

I’m writing this after taking a break from the computer, after finally shoveling snow (not a nice surprise this morning), after grabbing a room-temperature soda (no joking- I prefer my soda this way), and after thinking about showering. A hot shower in the middle of the afternoon: quite a celebratory event!

What I had hoped for this afternoon was a no-interruption day of cleaning closets and a trip to Goodwill. What I got was laundry, recycled items organization, and that staple of UP living- shoveling snow.

While shoveling, I played that mind trick where you think about what you enjoy while doing something you don’t enjoy, in hopes that you’ll hate the task at hand less. It didn’t work (I still hate snow), but I did get to think without interruptions. Isn’t that a rarity this time of year, no interruptions? What I enjoy about this time of year is the chance we get to re-connect with what’s important to us on an individual level. If that re-connection happens shoveling snow, well then...

What I enjoy this time of year, what I re-connect with, is the concept of the “chosen family.” It’s often said “You can’t pick your family.” I don’t believe this for a second. You absolutely CAN pick your family, just not who you’re related to. How often have you described a close friend as “like family?" I do it all the time, and am so happy to embrace my chosen family at this time of year. They make the rest of the holiday season bearable.

And on the flip side, how many of us have “family” we haven’t spoken to this holiday season, or even in the past twelve months? I’m guilty of this, but looking ahead to the rest of 2009, I’ll have the opportunity to correct that, or to be reminded why I avoided those people in the first place.

The tail-end of this holiday season is coming around, and the cocktail hours, shared meals, air kisses, and gifts both treasured and tacky will become memories as in years past. What will you re-connect with these last few days of 2008? Holiday traditions from your childhood? A recipe you’ve avoided because of your cholesterol count or the number on the scale? A favorite song of the season, no matter if you’re tone deaf?

I’ve checked some things off my list, but first I need to get past December 31st and welcome January 1st with a smile. Maybe I’ll be able to ring in the new year with my chosen family. Maybe I’ll make some resolutions I’ll be able to keep. Maybe I’ll make it through the remainder of the holiday season without anymore surprises (and a special “thanks” to that semi on I-90 for the rock to my windshield last year for setting the tone).

Maybe by the time you read this, the last of the confetti will have been swept up and the champagne bottles gathered and tossed in the recycling bin. Another celebratory event, another mouthful of slurred resolutions just past midnight, another January 1st spent with aspirin, strong coffee, and a constant look of confusion on my face, wondering just what exactly I did the night before. (Who am I kidding? Two vodka gimlets and I’m a goner!)

Or maybe you’ll read this and smile at the great start you’ve got going on those resolutions (you remembered!), sipping some strong coffee after a weekend long run.

However you begin your 2009- hung over or runner’s high- I hope it is everything you hope for, with your own chosen family by your side, and with only pleasant surprises along the way.