Imagining Perfection

Do you have an ideal image that you keep in your mind? - of your life the way you want it to be, of your perfect weight, of your perfect job? I like keeping the ideal in front of me. Even if I can never really attain it, by striving for it, I certainly could come a lot closer to it than if I don't try.

Lately, I've been keeping perfect images of running in my head while I'm out running. Lately, I'm obsessed with running (as you know). I'm pushing myself pretty hard with my first attempt at 100-mile race coming up. So, as I get tired, I pull up images of beautiful, efficient runners in my head. I try to emulate their movements, to allow my body to mimic theirs.

Recently, I've seen two great examples that have helped me - and not just in running.

A few weeks ago, I ran a 30K trail race. There were several other distances happening at the same time. We had a staggered start in order to space us out on the trail somewhat. We ran on a 10-mile loop. Because of how we were spaced, it was possible to pass or loop (or be looped) by people running a different distance race who's pace was wildly different. In my last loop, as I was struggling down a very steep, muddy, technical section, I heard a pounding behind me. I turned to see a runner flying past. He wasn't carefully picking his way through the rocks and muck. He wasn't carefully placing each step to avoid slipping in the mud. He was just running and allowing his body to react. It reminded me of a great skier reacting to moguls.

The other image is from Africa. While riding in a taxi in Arusha, we passed a runner. I stared in amazement; I had never seen such beauty in running. He was tall and lean, and ran with a straight back and easy arms. I felt like I was watching him run in slow motion although his pace was quite fast. He spent so much time hanging in the air with each step. The effect was of lift and air and time. He looked suspended, like a marionette.

Both of these images are in stark contrast to how I usually feel. I am decidedly terrestrial.

Now, I know that just imagining perfection does not make me perfect! Thinking about great runners does not make me a great runner. But when I keep those images in my mind, my body reacts. My steps lighten just slightly, my torso becomes more upright, my chest opens and my shoulders drop. I may not be a great runner, but at least for a few moments I'm a better runner.

And I like these examples for other aspects of my life as well. When I'm exhausted, when I feel beaten down by obstacles, when I'm confused about picking exactly the right path, I call up these two images. I think about being light on my feet and simply reacting to what I encounter, rather than being paralyzed by trying to control every detail. I think about standing tall with my shoulders back so that I can breathe easy. I think about relentlessly moving forward with ease, about moving toward the destination without worrying about every single step.

No, they're not perfect analogies, but from time to time they help me, both on the trail and off. What images do you call up when you need a boost?

Julie

Enter Night

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence.... ~ Helen Keller

Success! I ran somewhere around 38 miles, half at night, and I was not eaten by bears, ripped apart by coyotes, kidnapped by drunken teenagers, or killed by an axe-wielding madman. Yay!

Although I tried to play it off as just another challenge, I was really quite scared. I bought a whistle, put fresh batteries in my headlamp, had plenty of nutrition, extra clothing layers, charged my cell phone, and remembered my trail maps. I had mapped out a route and told Ron what trails I would be on before I left. I did my best to prepare, but eventually I just had to do it.

The first part of my route was on trails that were new to me. They were steep and tough, but so beautiful! Long sections were definitely not runnable, requiring scrambling on all fours. I worried about how slow my pace was because of this - it was going to be a very long night.



I changed course as I went. I'd come to an intersection and just like the look of a different trail. I would pull out my map and figure out a new route, and then call Ron to let him know. (see, Mom - and Lauren, I really was paying attention to safety!)

The location of the sun in the sky was constantly on my mind. As it hung heavy on the horizon like ripe fruit, I kept checking my GPS watch to see how far I had gone. I knew I was only halfway through my run - that was the plan, after all. But I couldn't help checking and wishing I were further along.

My original idea was to wind around and end up on trails near my house after dark. I know those trails really well, so felt fairly confident that I could be on them without getting lost. This park is around 52,000 acres, with over 200 miles of trails, so there's a lot of territory in which to get lost. With the sun approaching it's bed, I found myself on another trail section that was new to me. It was a big, wide trail that was some sort of old carriage road which led out to a road just 5 miles from my house. It was uneven and hilly, but wide enough that I knew I wouldn't get off. Another route change! I would stay here and run the 12 miles back and forth a couple of times, and then out to the road and home.

Light fades, darkness follows. Now I was getting into the meat of this run. I added layers and put on my headlamp. And I called Ron to let him know where I was.

I felt awkward and unsteady during twilight, as though my eyes and my mind were reluctant to let go of the light. My pulse quickened. But as the darkness progressed, I regained my balance. My focus narrowed as the night deepened. The moon would not rise until much later, so it was completely black. All I saw was the few feet illuminated by my headlamp. I could see the trees and bushes close to the trail, but nothing beyond. I could hear water off to the side. But I was engrossed by the puddle of light leading me forward.

At first, to combat my nervousness, I made a lot of noise - a lot! I shouted encouragement to myself. I gave a friendly toot on my whistle. I sang. I sang Amazing Grace, over and over and over. I sang some James Brown. Inexplicably, I sang the Star-Spangled Banner. I don't know why that popped into my head, but it stuck with me through the night. And I would like to point out that the Star-Spangled Banner is not an easy song to belt out while running. I apologize to anyone out in the woods that night. I didn't hear anyone else, and no one shouted at me to shut up, so maybe I wasn't really disturbing the peace. As I got more comfortable with the dark, I made less noise. Once in a while I would stop to look up. Stunning! It was a perfectly clear night.

Time passes differently during the night. We usually don't have the same time constraints as during our over-scheduled days; the expanse of hours can simply unfold before us. And running at night is equally different. Miles slid past my feet, but I wasn't aware of them in the same way I am during daylight runs. My world narrowed to the light in front of me. I couldn't really pick out a clear path through the rocks, I just had to trust my feet. I kept a steady rhythm and let my feet react to the surface. Interestingly, I only stumbled once, and my pace was remarkably steady and fast.

One of the things I love about long distance running is the meditative aspect of it. That's one of the reasons I don't run with an Mp3 player. It's partly a safety issue, but I like the time alone with my thoughts, the chance to let my mind run free. This is greatly heightened after dark. There are even fewer distractions - just 3 feet in front of me and the rhythm of my feet. It's forced focus on only the present.

Of course, it was not all sunshine and cupcakes on my nighttime run. I had little panics. Like when I discovered the trail didn't come out where I thought it would. I suddenly found myself running across a dam...A dam? What dam? There's no dam on my map. Where the hell am I? Why isn't this the road?!? I took some deep breaths (and cursed), and realized I was at the bottom of a reservoir. There was some pumping station that wasn't shown on the map. But a pumping station means there's a road that goes out to the county road.

The moon was just cresting the hills as I made it out to the road for the final 5 miles home. As I ran along the road, the few street lights looked so big and bright above me.

My neighbors were all tucked safely in their houses. Running along my driveway, I shined my headlamp around, looking off to the sides. There in the dark was a pair of eyes watching me. Not deer. Deer would have moved off, and the eyes were more forward facing. It could have been a coyote or fox, or possibly a young bear. I could see nothing of its shape, only it's eyes. This watcher was not afraid of me. This watcher silently observed my homecoming and let me pass. As I unlocked my door and turned on the lights, I wondered how many other eyes, unseen by me, had quietly watched as a ran past.

Julie

 

Exit Light - Facing Fear

As promised in my last post, pretty much every Daily Tip lately has been about fears and how to face them.

Because today is the day. Today I face mine...well some of mine. Today I'm doing a 40+ mile long run that will go into the night. What am I afraid of? Running 40+ miles. Running alone in the woods in the dark. Bears. Coyotes. Stupid people (it is Saturday, and people often do such stupid things on weekends).

Everyone (including me) says to face your fears, but how? Yesterday's Daily Tip was Step out of your comfort zone. I wrote that because it seems like such a good map for how to face fears.

Step out of your comfort zone. Don't abandon your comfort zone! Just take one step. The idea is to bite off manageable pieces to chew. If you stuff the whole thing in your mouth you're likely to choke. Give yourself little tastes.

Our comfort zones are good; they are where we are comfortable. They are where we know what we're doing. They are where we know we can succeed. They are also relatively safe. We can handle ourselves in our comfort zones, so we are less likely to get hurt.

But, of course, if we stay there forever, we stagnate. If we want to improve, we must step outside that zone.

And that step into the unknown is scary. In taking that step, we must face our fears - walk toward what scares us.

Just remember that fear exists for a reason. Fear is a physiological reaction to a threat (remember Fight or Flight?). Fear is designed to keep you safe. Ignoring it completely would be foolish. Instead, look carefully at it. Break it down into smaller components. Develop the skills you need to tackle each of those smaller components.

In my case, I have a 100-mile race coming up, which right now is seeming like the stupidest thing I've ever attempted. I'm quite scared. But I'm not hiding from that fear. I've broken it down into skills and tasks that I can manage and improve over time.

One of those things is building up mileage - each week increasing my long runs a little more. I'm not abandoning my fear of whether I'm capable of running long distances; I'm gradually building up to it.

Another task is getting more comfortable running in the dark. I will have to run all night in the race. It's better to get a little taste of that, both physically and mentally, before the race.

So today and tonight, I'll be chewing on pieces of my fear. I'm making a reasonable jump up in mileage. And I'm timing the run so that I'll have several hours in the dark. Each piece is manageable. Nothing is overwhelming. It's still scary, but not so overwhelming that I'm hiding in my closet.

The only way fears fade is to face them. And then act, but act reasonably.

Julie

p.s. I'll post on my progress periodically on Facebook & Twitter.

Fear & Posting

I just got this week's workout schedule from my running coach - he's got me down for a 40-mile OVERNIGHT run!

OK, I think it's probably time to announce my next little adventure....

In just over a month (oh my, can it really be that close?), I'll be attempting a 100-mile race. That's crazy! I know. There's an ultra-running event in my hometown of Pekin, Il. After I finished the North Face Bear Mountain 50-mile race last year, a friend of mine from Pekin started talking to me about the Potowatomi 100. 

I don't know how I let myself get talked into this. It seemed like a crazy but fun challenge. I had run 2 50-mile races, so why not push myself a little further?

Now, it just seems crazy.

And this week's 40-mile overnight really scares me. I understand why my coach wants me to do this. I'll have to run all night in the race, so better to try it out in training first. But I am SCARED!

Therefore, the Life-Cise Daily Tip today was about fear - Focus on your next step and fear will begin to fade.

Some of you may have noticed already that often the Daily Tips are as much reminders to myself as anyone. So, just a warning: I suspect that there will be a lot of tips about fear this week.

Julie

(BTW, you can sign up for the Daily Tips & Life-Cise Newsletter here)

Brrrrrr! (But It Might Help)

Last week there was an interesting study about cold water baths which I posted on the Life-Cise News Page. In recent years, athletes have been using cold water or ice baths after exercise, and this practice has been trickling down to regular folks. But there's been little serious research on this, so a team from the University of Ulster set out to find out what's behind this trend.

This is an idea that's particularly interesting to me with all the hard training I've been doing - last year, as I trained for my 1st 50-Mile race, then my second 50-Miler; and now as I'm training pretty aggressively for my next adventure. I also thought a few of you (Tonya, Marlene, Jennifer, Scott...) would be equally interested.

Now, we're not talking about responding to an injury. For that, you should all know about R.I.C.E (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). This study is looking at the practice of routine cold water baths after a workout.

The idea is that ice or cold water can reduce muscle soreness after a workout and help reduce any inflammation caused by the workout. Anecdotally, I can tell you that I have done this to great effect. I routinely stand in a cold shower for several minutes after a long run. I have found that I have much less feet/ankle/shin/knee discomfort after running 20+ miles when I do this.

The researchers found that there is some truth to what I have experienced. They looked at 17 studies (but only 14 were really useful) on the practice. They found that cold water/ice baths did reduce muscle soreness over the next 4 days by 15-20%.

The problem is that there was no consensus among the studies on how long, how cold, or how often. And each of the studies only compared cold water baths to doing nothing, not to any other treatment, like warm water, stretching, or massage.

So, cold water baths do reduce muscle soreness after a workout. But would a nice, comfy, warm bath or massage work just as well?

Another problem with the studies is that they only looked at fairly elite athletes. These were all people working out at a very high level. Would this treatment be equally effective in ordinary, casual exercisers?

And most importantly, would it be safe? Athletes, who's bodies are trained to operate pretty well under great stress, might react quite differently than the average person. Could the stress from cold water be detrimental to the health of someone not so strong?

Good questions that I (and the Ulster researchers) hope will be answered in further study.

Until then, I will continue to take my ice baths because I've found them useful. I will also cautiously recommend it (as I have already to a couple of you) in certain circumstances.

There's often a tendency for ideas and practices that have some truth to get blown up in significance, suddenly becoming the greatest answer to all problems. It's always important to do your research and find out the truth.

So far, the science indicates that cold baths can help. But there continue to be a lot of unknowns.

If you've had a hard workout, it might be worth experimenting. Come to your own conclusions for your own body.

And let me know what you find out.

Julie