Power Struggle

Shedding dozens of pounds over the past two years has refined my power, and I am able to run great distances with enhanced endurance. However, my physical strength is no match for the force of the mind. Mental strength is just as crucial for achieving a goal or enduring a challenge, whether on the course or in life.

It becomes a matter of perspective as your mind will control what your body thinks are the limits of your abilities. To overcome this requires determination to push forward and continue on, beyond what you think you can do. That's how people are able to run marathons and greater distances; the ability to keep moving isn't limited by the body nearly as rapidly as by the negative thoughts permeating your subconscious. Training is your way to learn how to overcome both battles.

I'm going to run for more than 2 and 1/2 hours this Saturday; by most accounts that sounds simply ludicrous, but that's what it takes to build up to face the big course. When I initially heard about the training program being laid out in blocks of time rather than distance, I was resistant. For my first marathon the training runs were set in miles; my longest distance before the actual race was 22 miles, and it seemed logical that if I had managed that far then I would be able to slog along for another 4.2. Now a time equivalence concept that should hold a similar argument seemed lost on me, as our longest run will be 3 hours, and it's going to take me at least 4 to finish on October 16th. I didn't think I would be prepared well enough by following that regimen.  Enter Coach Jay and the first of many, many gentle lectures on running at a slower pace on the longer training runs to conserve energy, so that come race day there will be enough left to sustain the whole distance. It's no secret that I love to run fast; my goal of setting new PRs for each of my race distances in 2011 culminated this past Saturday with yet another reduction of about 7 minutes (this time on a 10k course no less!) so I naturally resisted this idea too. And during practice, oftentimes I find myself chatting away with my teammates not even realizing that we're burning along at an 8:30 pace until Coach Jay sneaks in behind us with a kind cue to slow down. But it makes perfect sense, and through better monitoring (and frequent reminders!) I've been better able to control the thought process over my speed, to resist going too fast when necessary, and find the mental push to dig deep when facing a big hill.

During a a marathon many people hit a “wall” somewhere along the course where they think they can’t continue on. Even shorter races can raise flags of negativity against achieving a certain finish time.  This is where training your mind as well as your body will help push past those long moments of doubt and see it through to the end. 

These are lessons that can be employed off the track as well. Strength is defined and viewed in many different ways and isn’t universally applicable to all parts of our lives; we are often quite strong on some fronts while weaker in others. There are times when we won’t think we can endure a tough situation or painful experience, but it’s a matter of pushing forward, one step at a time, and building up the attitude and realization that we are stronger than the self-imposed limits of the mind. Of course there are no practice exercises to train for these tests, but there will be coaches to guide us towards the right path; they are the people in our world that we trust and respect, who have access to our inner lives. They come in a variety of forms from our various networks and are sometimes found when least expected, armed with words of encouragement or perhaps just a hug to help fight off the feelings of uncertainty. Occasionally they will confide that they respect your strength, which is especially humbling when you can’t see it in yourself, and at the same time empower you to build up the endurance to continue forward.  As the saying goes, it comes down to mind over matter; this in turn converts tests of mental strength into opportunities for growth.

While physical strength is more easily measured, it amounts to nothing without fortitude.

Because You Can't, You Won’t, and You Don't Stop

We're well into our season of marathon training now, and have been focusing on hills.  This is highly advisable since in complete contrast to my Phoenix marathon, San Francisco will have plenty of nice steep hills to break up the landscape.  Hills represent an extra challenge, a call to push yourself a little harder to overcome the resistance that will try to hold you back.

I often forget to watch out for hills.  They're out there, everywhere, some longer or steeper than others.  At times they may seem easily surmountable until you find yourself in the middle somewhere, dreading the idea of continuing on but not wanting to give up.  And just like with everything else, you can't stop once you've started, as you have no other option but to continue on.  While it seems more natural to try to avoid them as much as possible, and actively seeking hills may seem slightly insane, it's necessary to prepare yourself the best you can for what lies ahead.  Putting in the effort ahead of time, as well as you can anticipate, is the ideal method of preparation.  It's not a guarantee, as we will always encouter unexpected challenges, but is necessary for improvement and survival.  Lessons learned the hard way in advance build the necessary response skills for the rough patches ahead.

Once you've hit your hill you've got to dig in and give it everything.  Push forward, remembering that pain is temporary and the will to conquer burns deep.  Keep putting one foot in front of the other, little by little as you can stand it to keep going.  Because you can't, you won't, and you don't stop.  All such obstacles can be conquered with the will to continue on.

The Power of Believing in Yourself, and the Special Magic of Others Believing in You

I have achieved a long-awaited goal: I broke 2 hours on the half marathon course.  This is an aspiration set by many runners when they are getting started, and several previous attempts at it had failed.  Why this time was different is rooted in the power of one word: believe.

 

This is me four years ago, to the week for the photo on the right.  It feels like a lifetime ago, and honestly it was a different life at that time, for many reasons.  I was a different person: easily discouraged, quick to shut down and withdraw, prone to give up and quit; I slept a lot.  Excuses ran rampant for many things, and being healthy was not on the forefront of my concerns.  In many ways I merely existed, as I wanted things for my life but not enough to put the effort into working towards a plan to obtain them.  As a result, many dreams fell to the wayside and would never materialize.

I've mentioned before that running has come and gone in my life depending on the circumstances at the time.  It took the encouragement and prodding of my friend Gretchen to drive enough effort into me to sign up for a few 5ks and a triathlon.  I would go to the races, unprepared, and walk a lot.  They would take a long time to complete, and the finish line didn't hold any excitement for me; it simply marked the end of the misery.  There was never enough planning and hard work put in before the starting line to make the race itself, let alone the finish, feel rewarding.  I continued to do them and amass a collection of t-shirts, but I didn't take pride in the races or my performance.  Most of all, I didn't take pride in myself.

I tried half-heartedly to improve my efforts, and lost a bit of weight here and there.  Half-heartedly equals half the effort as well, so nothing really changed.  My weight bounced around a bit, but not enough to make me want to make it a priority; it didn't excite me enough to make the necessary changes for progression.  And so it went, and probably would have continued that way until I got the wild notion to sign up for a half marathon.

Finishing my first half marathon changed that mentality in many ways.  I hadn't put a lot of thought into the race beforehand (go out and run 13 miles, that's all) but for the first time the finish line captivated me.  That race was tough; giving up never crossed my mind but I often wondered if it would ever end.  13 miles hadn't sounded so intimidating until I was somewhere in the middle of it and questioning my sanity.  It took 3 hours and 5 minutes; just finishing the thing made me feel pretty victorious.  The unexpected medal at the end, coupled with the open arms of Gretchen and another dear friend Kim made me feel pretty important.  Had I really just done that?  That was a big deal!  And with all that time on the course to think, I admitted to myself that if I had put in some effort and real training before race day, the journey wouldn't have been quite so miserable.

Shortly after that I had another life changing event, which caused me to finally commit to myself.  If I was going to keep doing races, if I had any hope of having better experiences, it would require putting in the effort and hard work ahead of time.  Something had to change, and that was me and my attitude.  The weight came off easily at first, as did the minutes off my race time.  Kim was waiting for me at the finish line of my second half marathon 5 months later, when I finished at 2 hours 19 minutes.  Now let me tell you how Kim is an Ironman, which is beyond impressive by most people's standards, and she had tears in her eyes for me and my success, having cut 45 minutes off my finish time.  I've historically had a hard time taking pride in my accomplishments, but I felt entitled to that one; what an incredible feeling, quite worthy of bragging rights.

I didn't stop trying, and the running fluctuated a bit in and out of my life as I uprooted my world to a new area and a new job last year.  Throughout this time I prepared more for my races, and began to enjoy rather than simply endure the journey of the race.  However, the 2 hour mark eluded me time and again; I would get close and something would burn out inside me on the course and it would slip through my grasp, seemingly just outside my ability.

As the Seattle Rock n Roll half marathon loomed ahead of me, I doubted this time would be any different.  I had come close to breaking 2 hours before, and given it everything, all my energy, yet still failed.  I feared it would end up like that again.  I hadn't run much since injuring myself after my marathon in January, and while my preliminary distances were shorter and faster, I didn't think I had it in me to extend it all the way.  I shared this fear with Kim, who immediately responded by imploring me to believe in myself because she believed in me.  She knew I was capable of it if I set my mind to it; I just needed to be able to believe it too.

June 25, 2011 was a beautiful morning; a little cool and not raining.  The air crackled with excitement as I waited in the corral with two of my new teammates; we were all shooting for a new personal record.  The customary countdown got us started, and the miles clicked off nice and easy, smooth and fast.  I know hearing the shouts of "Go TEAM" helped keep me charged, as well as having friends running beside me, and everything just felt great.  I dared to hope that maybe it would happen this time but the old fears nagged loudly, and along the viaduct they started to get the best of me and I could feel myself losing steam.  I tried not to look at my watch, I knew I was good at that point but couldn't calculate what I would need to get to the end, and I had been disappointed before.  Then I thought about a sticker I had recently received that simply said one word: believe.  And I could hear Kim's voice and picture the words from her email.  I started to say the word and Kim's phrases out loud, and it refueled the fire.  Down the ramp, out the stretch, around the corner - I was closing in on the finish and all of a sudden I truly believed it was possible.  A few more turns and I was charging down the long stretch to the finish line.  Double rock star arms through the finish line of course, because I did it!  1 hour 54 minutes - that's 7 minutes faster than my previous best time.  It just took hard work, dedication, and a touch of faith.  

Having others believe in you and your abilities helps keep you going, but it takes the power of believing in yourself to make it a reality.

I'm Running for Dawn

When you’re from a small town and high school graduation is on the horizon, all you can think about is getting out and going away; that escape can’t come soon enough.  At least that’s how it was for me.  I was going far away, Missouri to start and who knows where else as I left for basic training on my 18th birthday that summer. I returned to the area for a short time during college but never really came back home.  What I gained in freedom and world travels ultimately cost me the tightness of the bonds with the family and friends that I no longer saw frequently.

Dawn and I went to school together in junior high and high school; we were both in band and DECA. We were close for a time but not as much afterwards due to my absence and the different paths our lives took.  I remember coming through her checkout stand at Hasting’s at some point and saying hello, and we tried to catch up in the few short minutes we had; I have no idea how long ago that was, and it was the last time I saw her.  More recently through Facebook we became reacquainted in the general terms we are with most of the people on our friend list, little bits here and there but not really revealing what’s going on in our lives. That is, until she got sick.

The posts started out last summer about how she wasn’t feeling well, and there was even discussion of blood transfusions. I remember being concerned for her without knowing what was going on. Then the announcement came: leukemia. I was devastated for her, what a scary word let alone a diagnosis. I had no experience or context for it and felt helpless except to comfort her through the hollow form of the computer. During one of her hospital stays she posted the phone number to her hospital room, a quiet request for contact. I remember seeing that and something inside me told me to pick up the phone and call. I’m not sure how long we talked, but it was a better life summary than that day at the checkout stand. The time and distance slipped away as we chatted; the good news was that they had received a list of possible donor matches and she would be home for the Thanksgiving holiday.  She also told me she would be coming to Seattle in the spring, and I told her I have an extra room and we could work out details later for visitors and if she needed help. We talked about her family, her three children; I couldn’t believe their ages and laughed that I was going to have to finally admit that we weren’t as young as we once were.  I wished her well and promised we would keep in better touch.

I never dreamed that that phone call would be my last chance to talk to her; I certainly wasn’t thinking it when I called that day.  I just knew she needed a friend.

Despite initial positive responses to her treatments, Dawn got sick shortly after Thanksgiving and then slipped into a coma.  Her husband Doug posted frequently about her progress and what the doctors were saying.  It seemed that she was coming around and one night he updated that she would be moved to a nursing home for rehabilitation. Then the next morning he posted that she was gone; it was a few days before Christmas. I fell out of my chair to read those words, I couldn’t believe it. Hadn’t she been getting better? What about her children?

I got a call that afternoon from a mutual friend who had been closer to Dawn; she wanted me to know what a difference I made that day by calling.  I was really humbled to hear that, as I had no idea that it had meant so much to her.  So the next time something inside you whispers to do something, don’t wait. Act now. You never know what an impact you might have; you just might make somebody’s day.  You might  not get another chance.

I had heard of Team in Training (TNT) but had opted for a different route to get me to my first marathon in January.  I stood alone in my corral in Phoenix surrounded by a sea of purple and shouts of "Go TEAM!" and all of a sudden the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society held a new meaning for me.  It's an organization with a mission: to fight back against cancer and help care for those it hurts.  I knew then I would run another marathon, and I knew it would be for a bigger cause than just for me.

Dawn’s oldest son’s initials are TNT; that sealed the deal. This is the group for me, and this is where I belong. This marathon is for Dawn.

Making a Difference, One Step at a Time

Yesterday I heard an old story again, a timeless tale that never gets old.  It's referred to as the starfish story and there are several variations.  I found this one cited to The Star Thrower by Loren Eiseley:
Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.  One day he noticed a young man who was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean."

"I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out.  If I don't throw them in, they'll die."

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."

There is something very special in each and every one of us. We have all been gifted with the ability to make a difference. And if we can become aware of that gift, we gain through the strength of our visions the power to shape the future.

We must each find our starfish. And if we throw our stars wisely and well, the world will be blessed.
 --
What a simple yet powerful message.  Sometimes it's hard to think we, one little person, can help drive change, and quite rarely do we do it alone.  But we must not give up.

That's how I feel about my contributions to LLS.  There is so much to do, so many people to help, in the fight against cancer.  I will do my part, what I can, to help.  For those who have joined my efforts, I'm so grateful for your support as you join me.  If we all do what we can to help, together we will make a difference, one step at a time.