Fueling Persistance

SNAPSHOT

Jealously, anger, and pride don't motivate me beyond the emotional moment. However, I still am a highly motivated person. It is an internal drive that persists on its own accord.  

DIGGING DEEPER

Yesterday, I considered writing a finish time and name on a sticky note and placing it on my bathroom mirror. I wanted to keep my focus on a certain goal to be better than a particular person's best race.  She doesn't know that I placed a target on her back.  And I am sure she does not care one little bit whether I will ever beat her PR. She probably doesn't even remember me at all.  But I have a grudge and wish I could show that I am just as valuable and accomplished. Moments later, I snapped back into reality and acknowledged that trying to fuel my motivation with jealousy wasn't going to last more than one workout, or perhaps not even a half of a workout.  Jealously just doesn't motivate me through a season.  Plus, all the bad feelings certainly don't build my character or make me happy.  You can safely assume I don't have any sticky notes on my bathroom mirror.

At a running party, an unnamed older male once made a comment about me looking pregnant (I WAS NOT PREGNANT, but just had eaten a big meal.) and that if I was not pregnant then how could I not be super skinny and still fast.  He showed up the next Monday to run with the local running group.  I, still offended, kept my mouth shut and let's say ran a bit faster than usual. And the group stuck with the faster pace and the unnamed man may have been quite sore the next day. My anger toward him could only last so long and I would have to forgive him so that it did not eat me up on the inside. I could have used that comment to become obsessed with training hard and turning into the runner body that he expected. However, my motivation for running would have stemmed from anger, not joy.  Who wants to run with someone that is angry and bitter?

"What are you training for?" I get this question posed to me over and over. Usually, after they hear of my last long run distance or when I add in a few miles after they finished running.  I respond with, "Nothing, just running."  I am not training for an accomplishment to announce to the world. Some people don't fall into the trap of pride, but it looms closely over my head.  I need to keep from boasting and my head swelling up with pride.  So I don't often articulate all my future wishes and declare all my victories. I know that there are so many many many runners better than me and that my victory is really just for me to enjoy. 

Alrighty then where in the world does my motivation come from?  I have been dwelling on this thought throughout the last month as I have hit some new highs in my recent training.  I think how did I accomplish that? How come I didn't give up and end the run early or even when planned?  How did I run for so long by myself for no race-specific reason? Why am I the only one out here on Lollipop Lane sprinting 160 meters every Tuesday? 

Explaining motivation is like the struggle to bottle up a child's excessive energy. It is abstract, individual, and ever-changing. All I can do is share some of the bubbles above my head as I have covered the miles throughout my town this spring/summer.  

"Just run for 10 minutes, I can always walk home if I hate the run."

"Run for 40 minutes then this run can be used as a restorative run for my body. Thirty minutes is only a recovery, but ten more minutes will get me into the restorative area."

"Perhaps I will find a new friend while out running. Might as well try."

"One-second faster. Can I run this next sprint just one second faster?"

"This conversation with my running friend is so interesting that I don't want to stop running and lose out on the friendship time."

"I have to keep up with her because I can't admit how hard it is to run this pace."

"Get as far from home as possible and then I get to run home without the using up motivation currency because I have to get home somehow and running will get me to a cold drink of water faster than walking."

"If I get too far away from home and I get too tired, I will just call my husband or son to come and pick me up in a car." I did have to get picked up last month because I couldn't make it home in time to leave for my son's soccer tournament.

"1:25:00 is way too close to 1:30:00, which is the Lydiard claimed boundary for a long run. I can always run 5 more minutes."

"If I have run for 12 miles, why not just go to 16 miles. It is like only running a 4-mile run, forgetting the past 12. And 16 will give me new longest run record for this year."

"I will be proud of myself when I am done. I can tell my kids how far or fast I ran today."

See my motivation has turned from outward circumstances to internal ways to positively challenge myself. I don't need to chase a race finish time or an opponent to become more fit or faster than last year.  I use knowledge and grit to take my body to the next level.  And if I don't race much this year or do race but the finish times don't reflect my fitness, it won't matter. Because I trained for myself and challenged myself and grew stronger in my body, mind, and heart. I am happy running: short, long, slow, or fast.

SOLUTION

Develop your running character to lead a rich running life.

"We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." Bible Romans 5:3-4

Not Just a Daily Run

SNAPSHOT

A daily run is so much more than just a few miles on a road, it is the peaceful moments that cultivate who I am.

DIGGING DEEPER

Many miles into my 6 am weekday run I spy an older woman in her dark long pants and white shirt. Sheltered by a sunhat she is bent over engrossed within her morning work of weeding. Her box of tools consisting of a spade, hoe, and trowel was within feet of her position. She never looked up, just kept bent over, nurturing her garden. The hot August sun did not give her a break even in the early morning hours. We were the two lonely people out working in the morning air as the early sun rose.

I was caught off guard because she was in a huge field that at a one person weeding rate would be endless. Why was she working so hard at something so repetitive and vast that it seemed meaningless?

Suddenly, I was struck by the reality that I too was a lonely gardener weeding my vast field.  Having not seen another runner in the town at that early morning hour for the past week. I was that one runner that encircled the small Minnesota town without skipping a wake-up call. Each step was another weed pulled, each morning's run was another row in the field.  With each November becoming my fall season of harvest.  The planning of the spring,  hot summer runs, and the never giving up attitude of a sport that goes for all 12 months, is my gardening.

Many would have driven their cars quickly by on their way to work without even a glance over the field.  No one would notice a lonely gardener in a field that machines should tend to. Her work only had meaning for herself.  As my work only has meaning for myself, valuing my own harvest without performances worthy of notice.

I was adding up 12,000 weeds pulled or steps taken each morning.  Why was I so diligent at this meaningless or meaningful work? After each breath in, I was breathing out stress, frustration, sadness, and worry. Without those releases, I would be bound and chained by my life's disappointments and inconsistencies.  The release of expectations and the birth of new creative solutions made my day approachable.  By halfway through my hour tending my garden, my body, I felt alive again. I could see beauty and knew my diligence would reap rewards. 

My 6am gardener in a sunhat with her garden tools near at hand and I are one and the same.  When I rise in the dark and kept moving toward the door and trail beckoning my name, my gardener and I rise together, step together, knowing that our diligence will reap the fall harvest.

SOLUTION

Not alone in my vast garden.

Mental Failure?

SNAPSHOT

90% mental

DIGGING DEEPER

Racing brings out the good and bad, revealing inter beliefs and fears.

Last August, ten grassy miles of trails set out a challenge for a small group of runners.  Since I have run my fair share of races my initial start was natural and consistent with the projected effort and pace. 

After the beginning three miles, I stopped to wipe off the mud from the bottom of my shoes on a rock.  Then waited a couple of seconds for the man running close behind me to catch up.  I had heard his footsteps and breathing for the last two miles.  We were far enough into the race that there was no one near.  The faster men had a few minutes on us and the rest of the race was somewhere far behind us.  We quickly made acquaintances, realizing that we were both new Minnesota residents.  Having someone to chat with, the next two miles went by faster. 

At the 5 mile turn around there was water and snacks.  I drank a cup of water, which I later regretted because I run best with no liquids in my stomach.  It was delightful to have 30 seconds to forget that this was a race and reflect on the beauty of the Midwest prairies.

Photo Credit due to Kirk Nelson

Reality snapped us back into the race and off we flew.  At that point, my race companion chose to push the pace for a mile or two, while I hesitated since this was my first "long run" distance since moving to Minnesota.  Within a minute I crossed paths with the second and third place women. 

Now, I did not select this race in order to win.  I just wanted a reason to be covering miles and some company for a long run. 

Like often happens in races when you are in the top few spots, especially in the races that are of an out and back nature, the other racers call out what place you are in.  This can be very helpful if you are competitive and desire to take the win.  However, for someone that is afraid that she will blow up after seven miles and is not use to dirt and grass trail running, the exclaims of "first woman" coming from each oncoming male runner, can heighten the pressure. I am sure they wished for the ranking to be encouraging but in reality, it compounded my concern. 

I was afraid of failing, afraid of losing.  I certainly did not enter the race with a goal of winning. Far from it, I was just hoping to finish in a respectable time.

Photo Credit due to Kirk Nelson

My race companion had surged ahead of me and so I was left alone to battle the wet foot high grass, few ruts, and rolling hills.  I sank deeper and deeper as my mind worked myself into a failure attitude.  I kept looking behind myself for the 2nd place woman to seal my fate.  On a steep uphill, I let myself walk, feeling hopeless.  I even considered quitting the race just so that I could avoid failure.  I had convinced myself that she was stronger and fitter and would soon conquer. 

At about 7.5 miles as I crested another hill, a thought surfaced. "I could get a second wind and be able to finish the race strong." This was a fact that was derived from dozens, perhaps hundreds, of experiences. I knew the feeling of fatigue and then the sudden rush of energy that could spring up during an extra long or difficult workout or race.  It was a proven fact that I couldn't argue with. It was a hope that I could believe in. 

All of a sudden I was strong and unstoppable. I imagined not letting go of my lead and possible win.  I was strong. I wanted to win. I would fight for it. Like a flip of a switch, I had dismissed my doubts and embraced the opportunity in front of me. I looked forward, pushing my pace forward. I was back to having fun racing, smiling, and taking in the beautiful sights.

It happens that the second place woman never caught up to me and I never had to battle her for a win.  I did, however, battle myself and clearly won.  

In irony, the second place woman, Stacy, became my running friend and continues to challenge me on trails each week.  However, I prefer to follow her lead.

SOLUTION

Winning the mental game is the real win. Count yourself as a winner!