Hard work and rewards

Sunday we ran our second half marathon of this year in an exciting 2:13 (Edenvale), more than 10 minutes faster than our first this year 2 weeks earlier. We both were a bit creaky afterwards, but we felt proud. We couldn't run on Tuesday or Wednesday and Monday was our rest day. The weather spoke loud and clear (lightning and thunder) and we chose to not run. So after weeks of running 5 times a week, this sudden break caught me slightly off gaurd. I suddenly felt fat like I picked up weight overnight (I am not kidding). My urge to snack increased dramatically. All I could think about is my weight and food and how much I miss cheese. Psychologically I struggle with adjusting my self image accurately relative to my actual weight. Since mid-January I've lost 5.4kg and yet my mind is still convinced the weight will jump back on if I drop my guard for a second. Intellectually, I know this not to be true. The thing that fascinates me is how our emotions (the baggage we have) can play havoc with our general mindset even when you are aware of the pitfalls. I struggle with weightloss and it is doubly hard with no thyroid, but we've been really good and have hardly stepped of the healthy diet track in nearly 3 months. I have to train like a demon to stay fit, my body's natural state is "couch fit". My weight has always been a struggle. I have had a few good years but I have never been super thin. So weightloss and training is always an uphill battle for me. And there are in life, like in a race usually more uphill than the downhill, but man when you hit a downhill after you worked hard up a steep one, that feeling of freedom is beyond description. It often just clicks, a few kilometers into race: your stride feels fluid, you feel like a real athlete and your breathing is easy. In that moment your mind is clear and bright and the world feels like a fabulous place and if you are lucky, your iPod is blaring a good song right at that moment. The high is so worth all the effort. Not because your brain is duped by good chemicals, but because your body is doing something that you've worked hard to achieve. We are but physical beings, even I, who scoffed at physical stuff most of my life and focussed on the intellect, am totally converted. A runner's high is rare and usually short lived, but it is so worth it. May we all have a few "runner's highs" today, no matter what we do! I leave with this favourite quote:

"I often hear someone say I'm not a real runner. We are all runners, some just run faster than others. I never met a fake runner." -Bart Yasso

And later (maybe next month)...

Sometimes you just need some beautiful

gedagte-heelal

soms is jy my
maan
wat gedagte-getye
laat eb en vloed

soms is jy ‘n
sterrereën
wat my dorre siel
kom voed

en soms is jy die
son
waarom ek kring in‘n
ons-om-wenteling

©Isabel Geldenhuys

I was reminded by a friend that sometimes, we just need some beauty. And a poem and photograph says more than any babbling blogging can.

The hard yards

It's now time for the hard yards, the slog, the grind. Training for longer distances is not like just running for the soul. There is sometimes less joy and soul when your training get to the hard yards phase. The problem is Mondays, the count starts at zero for week. The grind starts all over again! And you are at the bottom of a very steep hill. By Wednesday/Thursday I start getting into the groove and on Saturday I am feeling like a champion for sticking with the plan.
I thought I was immune to the grind of building the foundation, but stepping up the distance and then adding on top of that losing weight stresses (and tiredness)... it al adds up to a bit of a "lull" in the mood. Two nights in a row now we went to bed at 20:30. And slept. Slept like a moss-covered log. Last week's efforts were impressive, we upped the total kilometers for the week to 54 km. Which meant two long runs on the weekend. I know the hard yards need to be done (run), but it can make one feel a little snowed under. It helps me to stand still for a moment and remember that there is joy in the running. Stop and smell the fresh air, enjoy the beautiful sunrise and the new shoe smell. Remember to not focus on only the hard work, effort, sweat and tired feet. This is usually when I pull out my spreadsheet and graphs. Since actively starting to train this year (after recovery from my op), we've completed more than 200 km (in about 2 months). Not too shabby. Since starting this journey I've lost 4.8 kg - not only a huge advantage when running, but also a great morale booster. So when I get discouraged, I look at my records and I add up the numbers and I remember that the hard yards also add up and in a month these same tough times will no longer be "the hard yards", they will just be hard facts, telling the story of progress. I feel better already!

My quote for the day: There's a difference between interest and commitment. When you're interested in doing something, you do it only when it's convenient. When you're committed to something, you accept no excuses; only results. (Kenneth Blanchard) - Running is all about commitment. I never consider quitting. Sometimes you just get tired and need to remind yourself why you are putting in the time.

PS: And after all of that, we are on the list for our Botswana adventure in August. Watch this space!

Pep talk

My blog is my way of seeing my feelings. When I try to tell people, explain somehow I trip up to find the right words. I like writing so it could just be that. I like finding a nice way to tell a simple story or express a simple thought. There is a small hope of course that someday it will be read, and maybe even inspire or help. Overall though it is mostly a self focused activity. Writing down the feelings of the day or the moment. Contemplating my surroundings. Thinking about stuff "out loud". And sometimes the act of writing down how I feel, inspires me. Taking stock refreshes my perspective. So today I write, because I need a pep talk. I feel empty. Uninspired. A little worn down and tired. I have a pile of work to do, and yet I am totally unproductive - something I am not known for. I am a hard worker. Any boss would be happy to have me. I go the extra mile and have high standards for myself and my work. Yet, here I am unfocused, restless, uninspired.  Staring at my screen - blankly. Maybe I have Friday fever, maybe I am just getting older and life's stresses do not roll of my back as easily anymore. Does it eventually happen to us all? Did I just become less adaptable as the years passed by? I worry that this is more than just "a bad day". I worry about permanently feeling worried. I worry about everything. I think I have always been a bit of a worry wort. Being the eldest child I have always had a weird sense of responsibility. But I think getting older is the issue at hand; and I cannot detach myself from the worrying like I used to. As a result, even the little things are getting to me. So I fumble and end up feeling worse about my moodiness and general grumpiness.  I end up worrying about worrying.

And now that I have admitted this? Back to the drawing board. I don't think all of this is just a simple straight shooter of "I am getting old". The cocktail I am sipping is a complex mix of real trouble and a dash of melancholy for simpler times. My physical, emotional and mental capacity are stretched thin and this won't change overnight. My plan is simple. Admit I had the cocktail and sober up. Keep up the fitness, lose the weight (4.4 kg down already) and re-focus on short term goals. Big stuff like re-thinking my career path will have to be dealt with, but right now there are not many options and it's perhaps not as time sensitive as it feels. I have some time to think. Think, but less worrying. Thinking with less grumpy.

There is no truth

This past week has brought up all the feelings I had when the Lance Armstrong story broke many months ago. I felt let down, betrayed and just plain disappointed. I know it is wrong of society (me included) to make these mere mortals into superstars. Superstars that will inevitably let us down or disappoint us. But we fall in the trap over and over again. Thinking, hey this guy must be wonderful, he fought cancer, or overcame a disability...
Lance's deceit ruined an entire sport for me. An avid Tour de France couch supporter, I shouted support up those mountains and during the Olympics we cried with joy when Oscar was allowed to run. Both men overcame so much to achieve their dreams. Lance and Oscar both seemed to be good causes.
And now we have this mess - tragic and beyond fixing. Even if Oscar's super-legal team can cast enough doubt and get him off, nobody will ever be sure and of course no way will the truth ever be presented. All the spin in the world cannot fix this however. In a way, his money, his contacts, his reputation will always count against him, but this is not the point. It is just sad. A tragedy, forever.
How much did we contribute to this? As society we repeatedly fall in the trap and expect these talented people to be role models, to be perfect, to be kind, to be healthy, balance and honest personalities - just because of their achievements. It is a flawed premise and yet here we are. People are picking sides and making comments and judgements. A girl is dead. No matter what follows, there will be some reckoning for this. A girl is dead, a young man's life is ruined, two families will struggle with this for the rest of their lives and we sit on the sidelines commenting and judging. Would this have happened if society hadn't adored these people for being fast and beautiful? Who knows, but I fear this cycle seems to perpetuate. When fame and money is in the mix it seems there is no truth. Don't we still al believe OJ got away with murdering his ex-wife?

Canon-day

My new camera arrived Saturday and...I took a picture with my iPad to capture the moment. Ironic, isn't it?
I've wanted to invest in a good camera for years, and finally decided it is time. So I took a few photos of the puppies and the cats :-) Yes, very exciting! Well I tell myself, I have to start somewhere. The buttons, the options are so amazing. Nerd-girl that I am all of this is of course intrigueing, but I am going to hunt for a photography course, because my camera is so fancy I feel slightly overwhelmed.
In the meantime, a few frivolous pics of the furry-ones will keep me occupied.

The Wooden Spoon

I am not a blessed athlete. I am blessed that I am healthy and capable enough to run, but ability or talent is not overflowing from my running cup. Sometimes during a race or training run, my much faster, taller, male running partner will say something like "I really feel like pushing and hurting a bit" and he speeds off into the distance. And even though I support him fully, it's tough to be the wooden spoon. So. I plod along after him, pushing as fast as I can, whilst quickly running (pardon the pun) into my limits. Panting furiously, burning, sweating and hurting I am the little engine that could not keep up the pace. Sadly. And this is not a chat about speed training or Fartleks or anything related to optimising my speed. Those things we do and talk about peripherally but the reality is that most of us, the weekend warriors, do not optimise, we train to do the job. We train to survive. I am talking about a feeling of inferiority or loss that once you verbalise it is better described as being humbled by your own physical limitations. I realise on some level that running is not really about time, even though we measure everything in time. Running is about attitude. Dealing with ones own failings, the injuries, ageing and lack of talent, is actually how we get better at it. There is of course some rewards as you train more and more but even when I am fit as fiddle there is always somebody that is "in better shape" or younger or faster or...or...or... Remembering that the how well I do, is not the same as doing well takes a bit of introspection, usually overdue :-) Maybe it's ego or competitiveness but it is hard lagging behind. Yesterday afternoon's training run was one of those runs where my partner and I was out of sync. He needed a sprint or a hard run having missed our 8 km training run on Tuesday. So on our way back from a quick 4 km, he sprinted away from me to "feel the burn". I had two choices, I could relax and gently jog back home or I could push equally hard and see how long I can keep it up. Not keeping up, but keep it up. I pushed hard. Competing against the gap between us and my own breath. 

Accepting my own physical limitations and as always running provides. Even though I still got the wooden spoon, I found a way to feel competitive. Perhaps running is all about realising that the spoon is not really there!