My Personal Best: Training for A Marathon

The Hypothermic?

A couple of weeks ago I ran a race aptly titled the Hypothermic Half Marathon. I'm training for a marathon now, and I'm well past the half-way mark, and my long runs are long ... so I figured I would like some company for this one, so I registered and ran.

It was fun! I chopped nine minutes off my previous Half Marathon speed (2:24:21 from 2:33:31 if you're interested). I had a hoot! I started off right next to the 2:30 bunny but I realized I was able to go faster and steadier on my own, so I did! But a couple of other women in my category ran faster than me, so I ended up third. But as the oldest woman in the race (over 500 people) I did well.

So? Why do I do this? Why do I run and train and sweat, and then write about it?

Reasons Why I Am Training For A Marathon

One main reason: because I CAN. And don't get me wrong, I'm not ignoring those who CAN'T. In fact, I think about them every day. I think about my cousin Becky, whose every day must be a marathon. I think about the Syrians I met last year, who spend their time figuring out how to rebuild their lives. I think about women everywhere who are too scared, too sick, too busy, too sad to go outside and play, and I've decided, after a lifetime of dedication to caring for and helping those less privileged than I, that I am gonna run to my heart's content, and hope that my happiness fills the world and makes it a better place. (Check this out if you really want to make a difference!)

Other reasons too:

because, weirdly, running teaches me about life. Training for a marathon actually shows me how better to live my life. How does that work? I have a goal these days, and that it to run 26 miles FAST. To get there, to succeed, I have to plan. I have to be determined, and dedicated, and disciplined. I have to sleep, eat, and drink right. I have to do my short runs and my long run every week, without fail, unless I'm injured or sick.

And how on earth do I do that?

With a cafe to run, a family to care for, a house to keep clean, and an online business to grow (so that I can start my nomad life in a few years, but more on that in a bit). Oh, and did I mention I'm hosting a Retreat this summer? So, yes, training for a marathon has allowed me to understand that there's one thing that makes the difference, given that the physical playing field remains the same (I am not sick, injured, or living in a dangerous place, or without food), and that is my attitude. The way I look at my life, or my training, or my family, husband, my cafe, my running buddies, even my dog, or my bank account ... the way I look at everything colours how I can perform. Not just at a race, but behind the counter at my cafe, on the phone with a student, hanging out on the couch with my husband.

Zen of Running?

What is this magical way, then, Yoda? It is the way of the run: to take one step after the first, and then the next and the next. To be fully conscious of the steps, of the way your body moves, how it fits into the space around it. Is my body tall and light? Am I crouching down? What is hurting? How can I fix it? Where is my breath? I need to breath slowly and surely ... in ... out ... in ... step ... step ... step ...

This weird and frivolous hobby has taught me that to be in the moment and to love what you are doing when you're in it, is the key to happiness.

Other reasons why I am Training for a Marathon: I love how my legs are getting bigger and bigger.

Secret Club

Also, I have discovered a secret club that I am now a member of. It's the club of other people like me who love to run. We love to play, and speed our bodies around town or country. It's a club where, even though I'm 61, and I don't wear Lululemon, and I don't go that fast ... when I pass a runner in Montreal, Toronto, Lisbon, Italy .... Greece ... we give each other the secret nod and let each other know we know. It's a club where I can chat about long run nutrition for at least a half hour to someone I've never met.

And don't forget the bling! When I'm running a race, people I don't know high-five me. "You got this! Oui, Madame!" At the end, I get my lovely medal, and feel great, and that sense of accomplishment fills my heart. I know I've done something. Nothing too controversial, or too demanding, like getting involved with refugee politics, or being a midwife, or trying to change the world. Just a race, one step at a time, one breath at a time, one smile at a time.

Get Physical

I joined the Y about five years ago because our bathroom was so disgusting ... that is, my husband had renovated it but I am very sensitive to the leftover emotions in buildings (ok, so get out your "she's too flaky" signs), and something very bad had happened in that bathroom at some point, and I just couldn't go in it. (We moved and our new house is fine.)

Anyway, back then, I joined the Y. 

I grew up an hour from the Rockies, so all winter was skiing and all summer was hiking. As soon as I was able (too soon in fact, I was only fourteen), I was off in the mountains on my own, hiking and wandering. I am no stranger to physical fitness. When my husband and I were done with trekking through the African continent, we started a farm in Italy where I was his main builder's helper, so I not only took care of four small children and maintained the household, but I also dug in the garden, hoed the potatoes, shovelled out the chicken coop, split wood, carried water from the spring, and hauled cement.

I was no stranger to physical exercise but my years as a suburban mother in a dingy outpost in Montreal had softened me. Just imagine my joy when I discovered that the Y has a running track suspended above the gym, where no one ever goes! I could run to my heart's content, all alone, and get into the zone without having to listen to music, other people, or CNN.

Last year we had a crisis and I decided that the gym membership had to go. It was a luxury. I could easily run outside until it was too cold, and use weights in the basement, and go cross country skiing.

NOT.

By last week, I felt awful. Flabby, tired, sleepy (different from tired), crabby, bitchy (different from crabby). Disillusioned (little voice saying, you are an idiot and you don't really make any difference at all).

I decided to get my membership back. That was three days ago. I went the first day and ran four k. The next day I did a yoga class that was actually not real yoga; it was punishing in its insistence on the core (as if the human body was a nuclear reactor). Then I took a day off. Yesterday I ran again. Since I started exercising again, I keep waking up in the morning. At seven. And wondering why I feel so good. 

So, of course, the answer is that I felt good - feel good - because I was using my physical body. Yes, I would rather be in the garden producing food for my family, or splitting wood that we had just brought in from the forest. But right now that's not happening, so do need to admit that the gym is where I get my exercise (champagne problem, yes, I realize that too)....

Whether we are born naturally, by cesarean section, with or without drugs. Whether our parents loved each other, or not, or even knew each other; whether the act of conception was desired or not, we all came from a home that looked a little bit like this:






We all come from the same elements, the same language of blood and oxygen runs through our veins and arteries.We are pinned to the material world with our bodies. And they are flesh, blood, bones, and muscle. Among other things. And we need to use them, actually we need to test their limits, like a child does, we need to run so hard we get tired. We need to lift things that are too heavy, so that we have to put them down. We need to jump higher.

Ride a bicycle. Go for a walk. Do yoga. Run. Lift weights. Use your body, and your body will be happy.