Good morning running friends! Sorry for the absence. Life, as you know, sometimes dictates a faster pace than intended. I have had several posts floating around in my head the last several days, but no time to sit and write. And or course, now that I have a moment to myself at the computer, I cannot seem to string two cohesive sentences together. Let's blame L's recent changes in sleep patterns. Babies are always good for an excuse or two. :)
I have kept up with my running and have yet to miss a scheduled run. Friday will be the real test. John takes call at the hospital for a week beginning Friday morning at 9am, so instead of running the scheduled 4.5 miles Saturday morning, I plan to do it EARLY Friday morning. Like 6am early. Let's pray I can manage to drag myself out of bed and into the COLD dark morning.
I was asked about "hitting my stride" and what that really means and how do you do it. To be honest, as a newbie myself, the question caught me a little off guard. I googled the phrase "hitting your stride" and realized I think it is more of a saying than an actual technique. Sure, there are lots of books and articles and coaches more than willing to tell you that your stride is awful and they have the PERFECT solution for only $19.95 + shipping and handling. For me, hitting my stride is gutting out that first mile. It always seems to be the hardest. My body is shocked that I am out again, my knees slightly disagreeing with my decision. If I can have the mental fortitude to get thru that first mile and KEEP running, no matter how painfully slow it is, the second mile and any that follow seem to get...well not always easier, but...more rhythmic perhaps. I "find my stride". I settle in, my body resigns itself to the fact that I have made the mental decision to NOT QUIT. I can start to think about other things or nothing at all.
Which brings me to something else I want to mention in this mush-pile of a post. Running has been a wonderful mental break from the joys of mommyhood. I've only run with my ipod once. Luckily, I have been blessed to be joined by friends almost every run and we can chat some, but I have relished the quiet. To just focus on my breathing and to hear nothing but the sound of my feet striking the trail with the occasional conversation has been amazing and wonderful. (Thanks girls, you know who you are)
I will say that I am really really enjoying this more than I anticipated. I just sort of assumed a high level of misery would accompany each run. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes it DOES hurt, but the feeling of almost euphoric high post run is mildly addicting. Running, as it turns out, is much more a mental exercise than I ever realized. I am relishing the challenges I face each time I step out the door.
My clever sister (who loathes exercise as a general rule, and prefers to keep a closer watch on her diet than to have to intentionally sweat) and I were texting yesterday, as usual, and I guess I began to wax poetic about my so called runners high. She responded with this and I thought it was hilarious.
"I sometimes have to sit through a really boring speech or a terrible song, but I always clap at the end. Not so much, because I enjoyed it, but because I am so glad it's over. I'm pretty sure that is what your body is doing at the end of your runs."
Ha! I thought that was too funny, and maybe it's true. It doesn't matter either way to me. I'm stayin' the course and I am starting to hit my stride.