Running Uphill

Today, I walked. It's true that in orientation for the marathon training club I joined, the keynote speaker stated that, "the only difference between a runner and a walker is that the walker knows before hand when he is going to walk". I figured it would eventually happen to me on a group run, but not at the seven mile mark, barely a quarter of the distance to my goal. It was hard to have such a crappy run today, just when I needed to reaffirm my dedication Instead, my faith in running was shaken.

So far in my journey towards completing a marathon, I have had a relatively easy time of training. Each week, I run further than I have ever run. (Of course that isn't hard, not having run more than a mile at a time since high school gym class, sometime in the last century.) It is very affirming every weekend to think to myself, "okay, that was easy. I can do more". This week, during the run, there was not much thinking going on, much less positive, goal affirming thoughts.

I should tell you about my run. It was uphill. Seriously UPHILL. For those of you who know Portland, we ran the Leif Erickson Trail in Forest Park. The first six blocks or so were fine. From there, Thurman street begins to incline. During our pre-run pep talk, our group leader said he preferred to think of it as WEST, but what he meant was UP. Straight up. For over three miles. On a trail. A rocky, muddy trail. That went uphill. Steeply. Did I mention this run was uphill?

I got passed a lot on the way up. It didn't help that I was wearing a new Platypus hydration system that I had failed to read the instructions for and optimistically filled with (a very heavy) 64 oz of water. Since I hadn't set it up correctly, the pack kept unzipping, and the bladder wanted to slip out of the backpack. I had to stop twice to fix it, and eventually just zipped the damn thing up completely. Hydration schmydration. Speaking of bladders, I really have got to work on those damn keigel exercises. Stupid childbirth.

I ended up walking about 3/4 of the way up the hill. I ran through all my motivations, repeated my latin mantra (A posse ad esse - from possiblity to actuality) a dozen times, and still couldn't find it in myself to keep running. At least I had an interesting conversation while I was walking. So much better than mentally flagulating myself. Nick is a cool black guy, probably somewhere North of 300 lbs. I've seen him before. He commented on my skort two weeks ago, -claimed to have almost worn the same outfit. I'm so impressed that he joined Portland Fit, and even more impressed that he went for a running group instead of walking. He told me he started making life changes - eating better, sleeping more. It occured to me that he's right. Running is about more than just races and pace. It's about making choices and changes. Running is about taking an active role in your own life, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. At least that's what it's about for me.

After that reality check, I resumed running, and hit the halfway mark about a quarter mile later. Let me tell you, that halfway mark is always sweet, but to know that the rest of your run is down hill, is downright delicious. I sailed through the rest of the run, passing lots of people (always a pleasure - I'm so damn competitive, there were 48 of them, I counted) and still getting passed (16, for truth in journalism). I finished the run running, my faith restored.