What’s not to love about this?

What would you give to have a more positive outlook in your day?  Or feel stronger, more confident in your body? How about sleeping better, getting sick less often, having better self-esteem?

Most of us, living in this the-answer-is-out-there-and-probably-comes-in-pill-form society of ours, will think, yeah–what are you selling?

Nada.  Nothing you can’t do yourself. We’ve collectively come to this place where fresh veggies and fruit taste “funny” and processed food tastes normal. Our energy isn’t great, our brains are functioning on less real nutrients, and then we wonder why we don’t feel so good.

Obama is gathering his forces to help make America healthier, and this effort, perhaps more than his other unbelievable number of efforts, has me swooning.  This article on CNN discusses his ideas, and of course finds a way to make the effort controversial (that’s what sells, after all), but the point of Obama’s agenda is this:

A healthy population is a happier, less expensive, stronger, more motivated population.  Period.

Happier: endorphins from exercise help modulate mood, we’re made this way. It’s the way our mechanisms work. Further, even if you don’t go out an run 3 miles, just stretching and walking helps your mood by connecting you with your body.  It’s natural, it’s how our bodies work.  Connection lost: balance lost.

Less expensive: as the article points out, chronic diseases such as adult onset diabetes account for 2 trillion bucks in health care.  That’s Two. Trillion. Bucks. Medical studies have long ago proven that better nutrition based of fresh veggies, fruit, fish, etc combined with moderate exercise can help manage a ton of chronic complaints.  Imagine tossing those pills you’re stuck on–it could happen.

Stronger, more motivated: you know the old saying, if you want something done, ask a busy person.  Once your body is accustomed to moving, whether that means taking the stairs instead of the elevator, doing yoga stretches in your cubicle, going for a walk at lunch instead of sitting around, or even getting up off the sofa to change the channel rather than using the remote, your old bod gets used to it and craves it.  Pretty soon you’re finding ways to keep moving no matter what, and guess what: your body works better that way.  It doesn’t work so very well if you’re always stationary.

Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now, but I just had to say, Mr. Obama, you are a dreamboat.

Running after 50: working within limits

Sure, I’d like to think I have no limits, it’s exhilarating. It reminds me of the Fool card in the tarot deck. Don’t get me wrong: the Fool is a good card. Mostly. It indicates the potential of doing things that are ill advised but coming out richer for it–richer in experience, knowledge, wisdom and sometimes just plain richer, you never know. So understand: the Fool is a good thing.

The Fool: it's a good thing with the potential for trouble.

See–the guy is just about to step off the cliff. Not so good, even the dog is yapping “Look where you step, you…Fool!” But the idea is no venture, no gain.

So, why do I bring this up? I’m not in a limitless place in my running. I made a decision a little while ago to postpone my half marathon plans for a while because stand-up paddle season is here, as is the annual garden-and-ibuprofin two month festival and what I’m finding is I just can’t cram it all in…my poor bod complains too mightily, especially these fasciitis prone feet. And as I’ve said before: I’m in this for the long haul, which means taking care now so I can keep running for a long time. Boring, I know.

But it’s pure math. Training for the half-m would take more than the 18 to 22 miles I run weekly now.  It would take recovery time between runs, if I do it right.  And it’s right in that space between runs where things get messed up.  If the weather is gorgeous, I’m going out on that board, come hell or high water.  And I’ve already experienced what happens when I board and run back to back.

A dear friend of mine was surprised to hear I had forestalled my half-m plans, and not happily so, I could tell. It made me feel a little bad for a while. Also, I just came out of a couple of weeks of feeling bad, post-decision. Turns out a lofty goal for a newbie runner such as a half-m offers is a very motivating thing–gives you this energized identity, this get-up-and-get-out-there motivation and conversation piece that builds energy at every turn. It’s a rush. Exhilarating.

Well, I’ve come out of that funk, and am enjoying my running as much as ever, if not more. The pressure is off, the funk is gone, it’s just me out there running, trying new routes, digging my tunes, loving the blustery weather–being a body in motion. The really great thing that the half-m push did was get me to 7 mile runs and beyond. I love and look forward to them on the weekend. Adding hills and new routes during the week keeps me working on my speed, the weekend runs keep my mind geared towards a longer run and all that it entails.

I still have it in the back of my mind to do a half-m next January or February, leaving me plenty of time for recovery before the paddle surfing season comes around.

Running after 50: couple of new insights

A couple of things have happened over the last few weeks of running.

1. Having put distance aside, I find I’m running over 20 miles per week.  That’s what I was aiming for when I was focused on distance.  So apparently relaxing and enjoying running, while leaving time for recovery between runs, is working out even a little better than expected.
2. Now, since I’m not pushing the mileage envelope so much, I find myself focusing on speed a little more and have seen some improvement on the shorter 3+ mile runs.  They’re fun and fast and having the end point so close at hand makes pushing my speed a natural next step.  Hooray for natural next steps.

Running is just so interesting and applies so well to so many other things.  An issue that has plagued me most of my life is understanding there are good days and bad days–seems silly right?  Yet I know I’m not alone in that.  You have a good day and everything is grand; then you have a bad day and you want to ditch it all for something easier that maybe feels better and isn’t so ego-bruising.

Because I basically love running, I’ve stayed with it and learned at last that it’s just the nature of things that there are good days and there are bad days, and sometimes you can trace the reasons–not taking in enough fluids, didn’t stretch, don’t feel well, whatever–but more often you can’t.

The other day I was doing desk work for about four hours solid–sitting still, focused, quiet.  Time came for my run, I got up, not feeling like running after being so sedentary, no energy…well, I did it anyway, stretched, laced up and headed out.  At about 1.25 miles, still grumbling in my mind, “why am I doing this, I don’t even like it, blah blah blah…” I suddenly realized, “Hey! Wait a minute, I feel good!  Actually, I feel great.”  It was the weirdest mind game I’ve witnessed in a while.  Upshot: I went on to have a fantastic run and came back completely energized and positive.

Two days later, the same routine: sedentary desk work, no energy…but I secretly figured, no problem: I’ll get into gear at mile 1.25.  But it didn’t happen, and in fact, the 5.4 mile run was a bit of a slog.

That’s just the way it is, that’s all.  And what I’ve learned is flat out the best lesson in the world: you just keep showing up anyway, and notice the change.  Show up and be present.  It’s always different.

Running past 50: altitude adjustment in Albuquerque

Surprisingly, Albuquerque has one of the highest elevation of metropolitan cities in the US. I thought Denver was higher, but turns out no, ABQ is about 200 feet higher or so, depending on where you are. During my recent visit there, I ran on trails along the Rio Grande and in Bear Canyon in the Sandia Mountains east of downtown.

Since I usually run between 15 and 200 feet above sea level here in West Seattle, I figured I’d be struggling in my runs down there. Last year when I ran there, I surely did struggle and didn’t end up running much at all. I felt it for sure: just couldn’t ever relax my breathing.

So, color me surprised on my first run, about 3.5 miles along the Rio Grande, a gorgeous day that allowed me to run in a sleeveless tank and shorts–listen, for someone living in Seattle, that’s a huge accomplishment during March. The truly remarkable thing was this: after the first mile, I felt fine–no, I felt great! I could feel the altitude some, but basically it just wasn’t an issue.

Bear Canyon ABQ, NM

The next day I ran what could have been a grueling trail through a popular hiking section of the Sandia Mountains, Bear Canyon. I had low expectations of myself since that altitude was going to be a good bit higher, and the hiking trails include a lot of ups and some downs. Again, a gorgeous day, and while the first mile was a bit more of a struggle than usual, my breathing evened out nicely and I ran about 45 minutes no problem. Awesome!

On Sunday, I was down in the “lowlands” again along the Rio Grande, and this time I was a little tired, but I don’t run 3 days in a row anymore, so I chalked it up to that.

So I’ve been thinking about this experience and here’s what strikes me: you don’t often get such a great experiential measure of improvement like this. While I fret day to day over this and that with regard to my running–speed, distance, hills, stretching before and after, shoes, weather–this quick vacation to the sun allowed me to really experience just how much my running and physical strength have improved in the course of a year. I felt just great about this undeniable improvement–especially after my not so pleasurable recent 10 mile run the previous weekend.

It’s good to have a true milestone now and again–and my ABQ runs gave me that.

Running past 50: the tyranny of perfection

Halfway through my 10 mile run this past Saturday, the thought came to me: thank god. The tyranny of perfection is behind me.

I completed my 10 mile goal which I’d set back at the beginning of Feb, a little ahead of schedule but by necessity as this weekend was the window of opportunity. I was excited, especially after last Saturday’s 9.25 mile excellent, nay, perfect run. I talked myself down by reminding myself: it’s not likely to be that great every time, cool your jets, girlie.

But I had no idea it would be this bad.

Saturday offered up some pretty lousy weather, rain and wind, gray and cold. I can stand all of it, but wind is what I dread. I checked Intellicast for the wind report but no let-up was in the cards. I felt dreary about it all, suddenly. As the morning wore on, however, I gave myself a talking to…window of opportunity, the importance of setting and reaching a goal that’s all your own, how great I’d feel afterwards…

And I decided to just do it, come hell or high water. I felt excited again, could sense some adrenaline building as I filled my little water flasks, got dressed, stretched and did my core exercises. I checked my course one last time to make sure I knew where to turn around and then I headed out.

I drove to the starting point, hit the button on my running watch and headed out. At first, the weather felt a little balmy. I could imagine this turning out well, especially when I saw a broad rainbow across the ferry run between Bainbridge and downtown Seattle. But then, just as suddenly, the wind kicked up a bit. No problem, I can do this, I said. I rounded the corner at the lighthouse and headed for the long stretch along Alki Beach.

As I headed into my second mile, the wind was picking up a bit more but still not a problem. The sun had slipped away behind rolling billowing clouds. At the Duwamish Head, things got dicey. I was now leaning into the wind and I could feel my energy getting tapped way too soon.

As I headed into the fourth and fifth miles, I knew this was going to be very far from a perfect run. I had to take a brief walking breaks, long before the 60 minute mark, and though I tried to laugh it all off with the perspective of last week to this week’s very far from perfect run, I was feeling an extra pull on my energy.

No energy drain was going to keep me from attaining my goal, though, and that was that. I got to the five mile mark and turned around. At last the wind was at my back…for 1.25 miles. Again when I hit the Duwamish point, the wind had turned slightly and incredibly, I was running into it again.

I knew then that this was going to be a long slog because since it was a S-SW wind–I’d be heading into it from here on out. So I gave myself over to it, paced my walking breaks…and lowered my expectations. STill, though I wasn’t fast–11 minute miles–I did finish what I’d started, and that was what counted for me. I was sore and very tired by the end, depressingly so, since I was so excited to complete this project. But I finished, I hit 10.1 miles and had not one drop of energy left to do much of anything but drive home and do my yoga after-run stretches.

I now know what’s involved in ramping up distance, I know I can do it, and I know how to work with my body to avoid too much wear and tear. I’ll sign up for my first half-marathon soon–this after running my first 5K just last summer. I wish it had been a more uplifting 10 miles, but it was what it was. And after all, perfection really is a sort of tyranny, isn’t it?

Running past 50: my nine mile adventure

This past Saturday I had the most awesome run I’ve maybe ever had. What started out as a tentative run in potential snow and high winds turned into a fabulous, full hearted run in snow + rain + sleet + sun and hardly any wind to speak of. I’m writing this blog to once again sing the praises of Self Talk.

We all do self-talk. Sometimes we’re purposeful about it: before a big interview or a meeting, before a race, before a party if you’re shy. Whatever, we tell ourselves stories about ourselves and often, those stories turn out to be true. Imagine. Anyway, I got to thinking about my runs lately, how I’m upping the miles but not feeling so great and sometimes not enjoying them so much. I also got to thinking about my last post and the guy who has a running mantra tailored after James Brown’s song I feel Good.

And I decided: today I’m going to feel great throughout my run. I’m going to tell myself I feel great, and in fact, I will feel great. Guess what: it worked. I had some awesome tunes on, was totally in my body, and kept saying: I feel great–I’m so alive, and it’s awesome! I felt so fine throughout the run that I even managed to enjoy the scenery (something I miss when I’m focused on how much my feet hurt, or my legs or whatever), the raucous weather, all of it. And when I got to my turn-around point, I felt so good I just kept going. I ran 9.22 miles, and I was totally psyched by the end.

Psyched! Because my goal of 10 miles is well within reach next weekend. Because I felt pretty dang good after the run, aware that I was sore, but strong and happy and alive. Very much alive. And very lucky too–grateful, like you feel sometimes when your life has some grace to it.

So I say yeah. Try it out.

Running after 50: I feel good (mostly)

I was reading last night about a guy who did a meditative chant to James Brown’s “I feel good” riff during his run.  That seemed to be an excellent mantra for a long run, good rhythm, good rhyme.

Last Saturday I ran 8.25 miles.  I managed to maintain a 10:30 mile all the way thru, which probably means my first miles were a lot better than my later miles–either that or my music selection has a 10:30 mile rhythm built in.  Could be.

I’ve been thinking–in an admittedly self-critical way–that lots of people would consider a 10:30 mile slow as molasses.  I’ve heard that from runners I’ve spoken to, and read it here and there.  One shouldn’t be satisfied with a 10:30 mile.  And yet I am.

Last summer, my best 5K was a 9.30 mile pace and I was pleased with that.  But I recognized that was a 5K.  Since January, I’ve been upping my miles so that a 5K is a quick-run day now, and I’m usually shooting for over 4, and on the weekends, over 6 or 7.  Ultimately, by the end of the month, I hope to be at 10 miles…though I’ll accept 9, and be doggone happy with 9.5.

Throughout this ramp up, my focus has not been speed.  It’s really not even been distance.  It’s been physical well-being.  See, I want to run for a very long time, if I’m lucky.  And the good news/bad news is I’m starting later in life.  Good news: I don’t have previous injuries to plague me.  Bad news: this isn’t exactly the peak physical condition I’ve known at other, younger, times in my life.  And straight-up news: you have to do things differently after 50.  You  just do.

You can’t get by without a stretching regimen.  Well, maybe you can, but you won’t be running for long–just my opinion.  You can’t get by on a cup of coffee and zoom out the door for a swift 8 miles.  And speed just isn’t going to be the top line concern.

So what is the top line concern?  Pure joy.  The satisfaction of giving your body the gift of health and good care.  The tending that pays off on those excellent days when you really feel it’s all coming together (today wasn’t one of those, by the way, but hey.).  What else is there, really?

It’s truly a meditative state, this care and feeding and stretching and reaching for something new.  It’s all mine–can’t buy it, can’t fake it–it’s utterly real and alive and in the moment.  Even if that moment is slower than molasses–it’s all mine.

Running past 50: considering Title IX

Patsy Mink, Congresswoman from Hawaii, author of Title IX (my posthumous message to you: You go, girl!)

Recently I read a 2003 snippet by a running coach who was working with women over 50 and he mentioned, “remember, these women grew up in a pre-Title IX world.”

At the time of the article, I’d just turned 50. So, he was basically talking about me. For some reason, I was taken aback by the category: pre-Title IX.

Basically, for any woman under 40, Title IX is probably known more as a great clothing store for female athletes of every stripe, I love the store, though I can hardly afford it most of the time. The Real Title IX was a 1972 amendment to the Education Act and states simply:

“No person in the United States shall on the basis of sex, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.”

What that means in practical terms is this: prior to Title IX, women’s sports in public schools was neither a mandatory part of a girl’s education, nor was it funded. That meant you could, if you were lucky enough to go to a school that valued sports (I did), have and participate in swimming, tennis, softball, track, whatever…only if the school felt like offering it to girls.

A funny thing: my realization around Title IX and my generation comes at the same time that I’m beginning the series Mad Men–which takes place in my early youth, early 60’s. The sexism and lack of focus on health–physical and otherwise–is terribly familiar to me, and I’m happy to say I’ve forgotten most of it and think we live in a pretty good age right now. But growing up female in that world, well, funny looking fashion aside, it sort of sucked.

I’ve talked about the situation of girls growing up now with a few of my generationally-related business guy-friends–about how important it is for a girl to learn how to compete, to push her limits out, to stretch herself. To feel competent and able, confident and strong. A lot of these guys have daughters who are in college and their perspective is interesting: they love how strong their daughters are, they hike and run with them, they support them in a million ways and take great pride and pleasure in their accomplishments.

But they also, like I, grew up in a world that was anything but supportive of girls and physical accomplishment, and they likely never gave it another thought. Some thing are definitely getting better.

So here’s to Congresswoman Patsy Mink, (yet another brilliant and forceful legislator from the great state of Hawaii) who wrote the legislative under-pinnings of Title IX and fought so hard to bring it to life. It wasn’t easy, and when it was passed, it was still heavily criticized and disregarded. Were it not for a lot of women and young girls demanding their rights, it might have lingered for a long long time.

Running past 50: Chi Running update

Chi running is making an impact, I’ve been working on it for the past month and today accomplished a personal record: 6.6 miles @ 10:30 pace. we’ll see tomorrow if Chi running made as much difference as I hope, with regard to my heels. Yay!

Yowza! And I thought taking up running at 53 was big…

Margaret Hagerty at 85

And I thought taking up running at 53 was a big deal. Fuggedaboudit! Margaret Hagerty is The Boss.

Here’s a quick story of Margaret Hagerty, profiled in Runner’s World (print version) this month. At 64, she quit smoking and took up running (this isn’t the first time I’ve heard that sequence of events…). That was 20 years ago and at age 85, she’s recently completed her 80th marathon.

80. Marathons. Not 5 or 10K races.

I’m simply blown away by that. Plus she runs between 4 and 10 miles a day.

Way to go, Margaret. You’re an inspiration!

Running after 50: what I learned in the Big Snow of ‘08

Yes, you can run in snow and ice.  I’ve even read an article by a runner in Colorado who puts sheet metal 1/2″ screws in the soles of his running shoes to create “studded shoes” for ice running.  Yes, it can all be done and probably is done on a daily basis all over the frozen sections of the world.

And I learned some stuff in the Big Snow of Seattle ‘08.

I learned that no sweat in sub-freezing temps is a very good thing.  Sweat will become icy almost immediately, and that’s bad for muscles (and generally the whole system, doh.)

I learned that shorter strides is a good thing, that planting your foot firmly and squarely will help keep you from sliding unexpectedly. Of course paying close attention is also a pretty good idea.

I learned that yes, you really can sort of “burn” your throat if you are mouth breathing and the temps are super chilly and you’re not accustomed to those temps.

And on a related note: I learned that running in freakin cold ass temps while still recovering from a cold is a really bad idea.  Short term, you’ll feel great to have those endorphins coursing through your bod, and maybe your bod will even like the whole thing for a while.  Maybe just keep your runs short, and day on/day off for a while.  It’s an idea.

Instead, I ran while still recovering and ran nearly every day after, or took long long brisk walk/runs.  Upshot: I got sick again, and the second bout was way worse than the first.   I’m taking the hint: you really do have to think differently about things when it’s frigid cold, snowy and icy outside.  A different strategy, some care to the old bod goes a long way towards keeping one healthy.

Today, after six days inside nursing my cold, I’m going to go for a shorty short run which will undoubtedly have me wheezing and coughing, but I feel pretty strong, have some good energy and have promised myself to take it easy out there.  It’s all good.

Running in Snow & Bummin’ on Jobs

One of the great things about running outside (vs. in the gym on a treadmill) is that every day is different.  Every single day, there’s something new–a slightly different path, the weather, the angle of the sun, the birds, the other people out running…all different every day.  I love that.

Goldeneye Duck during snow shower

So the past two days I’ve run in Lincoln Park here in West Seattle, even though we’ve got enough snow to make me think we were transported to some Mid-western town with mountains during the night.  Yesterday I ran along the beach which was icy and not relaxing even though it was staggeringly beautiful, then back up into the park proper where I learned that you can gallop full out in dry snow without worrying about slipping–it was a real rush!

Today I stayed up in the park since I knew the beach trail would be way too slippery to be enjoyable.  The snow in the park had a crunchy crust but was fine for running and I found that even in 20 degree weather, you can work up a sweat and feel that happy all-over warm that I associate with x-country skiing.  I’ve never run in the snow before, so this is a big new adventure for me.

On the Jobs front: Steve Jobs, that is.  There’s so much talk lately since it was announced that Jobs wouldn’t be giving the keynote at Macworld in Jan that his perceived poor health was going in the unwelcome direction of Worse. I don’t know about it, I can only imagine it must be hard to grapple with that kind of media attention to personal matters, but as (Fake Steve Jobs) Daniel Lyons discusses in this Newsweek article, Apple is Jobs and Jobs is Apple.  The fanatical fan base is as bound up with the mystique of Steve Jobs as with Apple’s to-die-for product line (count me in here).

I can’t imagine Apple without Steve Jobs, and as a mac user and Jobs admirer, I don’t want to.  Still, as Lyons points out, Jobs is not just a genius of mythical proportions: he’s human after all.

Running after 50: The Hills of Seattle (a cool map)

Winning a Cold-War with myself so I’m laying low, just walking my run routes the last coupla days.  But someone sent me a map of the steepest hills in Seattle, kind of interesting.

View Larger Map

Running after 50: Ch-ch-ch-changes…

Yesterday I ran 6.4 miles, a new distance for me. It’s a flat course, and beautiful–uplifting, so there’s a part of it that’s just awesome. But I was truly beat by the last mile, truly and completely. 6.4 miles is far for a bod that just last spring thought: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to run a 5k. Yesterday I ran my own private 10k.

One of the reasons I got hooked on running was to manage the enormous changes that my body and mind were experiencing as a 50+ year old woman. I know men go through a lot of changes after 50, too–I watch the commercials on TV, so I get it. But really, the whole repro-system de-activating itself is amazing and has lots and lots of ramifications. (And mind you, once things settle down, most everyone I know feels better than they’ve felt in years, so there’s that definite bennie.)

I’d read a few places that exercise would help with some of the more cumbersome changes, like metabolism and energy. So I joined the gym–and guess what. It helps A LOT

been counting sheep most of my life

Most recently I’ve found that it’s helping with a problem I’ve had most of my life, but which is way worse after 50: sleep. Suddenly, the last coupla months, I’m sleeping the sleep of the dead. I’ve never, not ever, slept this deeply before and I love it–I feel like I could slurp it up like a good meal. I wake as if I had taken a long vacation–I can’t describe how delicious this feels.

Running after 50: distance (part deux)

After running my farthest distance yet just the other day (6.25 miles), I’ve had plenty of opportunity to think about one’s own ideas about distance.

This last spring when I first started to increase my endurance and strength, I did so after my nephew suggested I start using the program described in Body for Life–one thing in particular: the running for 20 minutes routine, every third day.  What was revolutionary for me: alternating weight training and running made the days I ran even more important.  And shooting for a really good 20 minute run, with hills and flats, increased my own expectations of what I could do–I loved it.

Pretty soon, however, 20 mins wasn’t enough. Just about the time I pushed the time up to 25 minutes, I decided to try my first 5K.  The deal was, I switched from time to distance, but time running was always the necessary foundation and now, when I’ve pushed myself too hard and I feel on the edge of perhaps injuring myself, I switch back to time.

Distance feels better than time, for some reason.  Saying I ran 3.5 miles just seems like more of an accomplishment than saying I ran 32 minutes.

But knowing–and using the knowledge–that I can and should modulate between the two sometimes is a great thing to learn.  The other day, after running 6.25 miles, I was sore and tired.  The next day, my chronically sore heels were whimpering for some TLC.  Even though I was sort of excited by the thought of another big run, it was time to ease back–way back.  And build up again.  I ran for 25 minutes, an easy jog thru the park, and felt great–light on my feet and happy.

It’s important to pay close attention to this body that ain’t no spring chick anymore.  Working with it will help it to go the distance.