A Seriously Cool Epiphany

"We are all so much more capable than we give ourselves credit for."  

~ Deena Kastor, Let Your Mind Run

When I headed out for my long run this morning, it was 78F with 81% humidity. At 5:45AM. Storms were in the vicinity, but if I ran fast enough and got lucky, they might hold off until my final 5k. Might. I could have skipped the run. Conditions were going to be shit - oppressive and heavy - and my training was going well - well enough to skip one long run. However, I promised myself I'd train for this damn fall half marathon and I'm trying really hard not to break promises to myself. But f***, it was a struggle. When I checked my Weather Channel app right after my alarm went off, when I stepped outside to let my dogs potty and it felt like a rain forest, and when I got out of my car at the trail head and struggled a little for breath, I really, really wanted to bag it for the day. Instead I laced 'em up and hit the trail flashlight in hand and sunglasses kicked up on the brim of my hat. I may have been skeptical about my chances of success (Eleven miles intermingled with each and every one of my last favorite running conditions?), but I am so happy that I decided to go. 

Why?

Because I'm a changed runner. 

Look, wisdom often comes slow. I don't mean that it took until I was nearly fifty to figure this crap out. Ok, well sort of. But really I mean wisdom often doesn't hit until you're more than a few miles in and your shorts are so heavy with sweat that you have to give them the occasional yank to keep them up. It took me all  eleven miles to dig deep enough within my psychology to figure out a few things about myself as a human and as a runner.

I started my morning with a protein bar, coffee, and a chapter of Let Your Mind Run by Deena Kastor. I blogged last week about reading the book and, because I'm not really a reader, I'm still reading it. As luck would have it, this morning's chapter was a perfect precursor to the task that stretched out before me. Chapter 13: Going the Distance, about Kastor's transition to marathon in 2001. How did she go from an are-you-fucking-kidding-me attitude regarding the distance to absolutely killing it? Even though, I'm a veritable light year and a half from elite, almost fifty, and only training for a half marathon, Kastor's words resonated. You run the miles, you push, you dry heave, you remind yourself to breathe, you endure, and you put in the work to train your body and your mind. YOUR MIND. YOUR MIND. YOUR MIND. 

When I was running in my twenties, I was a graduate student in sport psychology (seriously) and that little tidbit never, ever, ever occurred to me. Ever. I was so bogged down with anorexia and pressure and training and school that I didn't do much thinking. I trained my body. Period. In those days, like many twenty-somethings, I wasn't really into introspection. Since then, I've made up for lost time. Some may say I think too much, but all that thought added up to something pretty amazing this morning. 

I tried to stay as positive as I could from the beginning. Ran as happy as I could. Changed negative thoughts to positive ones before they really took hold. Said a few words of gratitude for the gifts I do have. Blah, blah, blah. Still it was f***ing oppressive and I had to fight to stay a step ahead of miserable. At some point, my mind drifted to Iceland and how I'd need cold weather gear. I made a mental note to ask my sister if I could borrow a few things from her. Then it hit me - 

Mile 5 Wisdom - Train the mind to deal with adverse conditions. Let's face it. Austin in August is NOTHING like Iceland in October. I won't open my Weather Channel App and discover excessive humidity and a heat index of 85F on race day. However, I could wake up to freezing rain beating on my hotel room window and wind chills in the teens. Those conditions could put a damper on my race plans. The last time I ran in sleet and ice was the day I climbed the Stolzekleiven in Bergen and that was in April. I've spent the summer enduring heat and humidity in Central Texas. F***! There goes my race. Unless (Wait for it...................................................) I train my mind to endure difficult conditions. If I can survive an oppressive eleven miler, I can race thirteen through a blizzard. Suddenly at Mile 5, my morning run found higher purpose. The heat and humidity sucked (A LOT) but they were no longer a bad thing. They were a training tool.

The humidity might have had a higher purpose but it also served to drain almost all the fluid from my body (a slight exaggeration) and after too many miles my heart rate was seriously redlining (if I can believe my Garmin HR monitor). I continued to try to hold pace, though it became more and more difficult. 

Mile 8-9 Wisdom - Until you think you can, you won't. I was far enough into my third loop to know that going back wasn't an option. It was forward or nothing. I'd come this far. I had less than a 5k to go. The rain seemed to be holding off. The sun was peeking through the clouds, but a cooling breeze had picked up so conditions were actually slightly better. Still I'd been out in this soup a long time. I was tired. My right foot was starting to hurt. I hadn't promised myself a kick ass lunch if finished all eleven miles. The eight ball seemed to be gaining on me. And I still had more than two miles to go. Then a very important thought entered my mind. I CAN DO THIS. It was only two more miles. I'd already done nine. How many times had I run two miles in my life? Lots. Lots and lots. And really, what got me out the door that morning and through all those miles? In crappier than crap conditions. That same thought. I CAN DO THIS.

So I willed myself forward. My watch buzzed and vibrated. Mile 10 down. 8:52. My pace had slowed. I had hoped to average 8:45s and this wasn't a good sign. With one mile to go - eight-ish minutes of my life - I was beyond redlining my heart rate and my legs were heavy with fatigue. I didn't have much left in me. Except one thing. 

Mile 11 Wisdom - When you've got nothing left, you just gotta believe. Somehow I picked up the pace. I was on my favorite and traditionally my fastest section of the trail. I often say it's the part of every loop that takes care of itself. It's neither uphill nor downhill, until you get seriously close to the finish line, but for some reason I always seem to run smoothly there. I ignored my breathing and stopped looking at my heart rate monitor. I had no idea what my pace was (I vowed not to focus on it this summer when conditions are so sucky) or how far I had left to go. I was drained. On fumes. But I had one thing going for me. I believed. I might drop dead just before the finish or hyperventilate at the line, but I was going to give it everything I had. My watch buzzed and vibrated again. I'd run Mile 11 in 8:23, my fastest mile of the day. So much for nothing in the tank. Unfortunately, my chosen route ended up being a little more than eleven miles (11.14 according to my Garmin) so I still had a bit of trail ahead of me before I reached the finish line. I picked up my pace again. Syphoning every bit of everything I had left, I covered that .14 of a mile at 7:25 pace. It was a good kick, and uphill. Just like the end of the Austin Marathon Half Marathon (I'll file that one away for a February morning). 

I had to remind myself to breathe after I crossed the finish line (more than a few times), but I accomplished what I set out to accomplish - an eleven mile run in crappy conditions. I'm not sure if my body is any stronger for it. I burned through glycogen stores like they were love letters from an ex-girlfriend, my lungs feel kind of weird right now even hours later, and my heart rate is still slightly elevated. Physically, I'm a bit of a mess, but mentally I'm better than ever.

Dammit. I finally found something I like about running other than the calorie burn. I'm not keen on the physical challenge of it. Running can be seriously f***ing painful. That mental challenge, though... My eyes have been officially opened. I could bemoan the what-ifs and why nows but I think I'll just enjoy this for what it is. A seriously cool epiphany. Thanks in part to Deena Kastor's words and my over-introspective brain. 

~~

You there. Yes, you. Non-Running Reader. So you're not a runner and these running blogs don't apply to you? Read these bullet points again and think - really think - a moment. 

• Train the mind to deal with adverse conditions.
• Until you think you can, you won't.
• When you've got nothing left, you just gotta believe. 

If you applied these things to your life in general, do you think maybe you might find yourself in the middle of a seriously cool epiphany, too? I do.