Type: Long Run
Dist: 15.02 km
Pace: 08:59 (avg)
Speed: 6.68 (km/hr) (avg)
HR: 139 (bpm) (avg) 160 (bpm) (max)
I feel a little fragile today. Feelings just under the surface, primordial soup stirring. Perhaps it's all the renovations underway.I'm aware of wanting to be/appear better than I feel on the inside or think of myself. It's okay. I am.
Quote:When we feel that our lives are good and genuine, we do not have to deceive ourselves or other people. We can see our shortcomings without feeling guilty or inadequate, and at the same time, we can see our potential for extending goodness to others. We can tell the truth straightforwardly and be absolutely open, but steadfast at the same time. I love the ritual of dressing for a run or a bike ride. I love my workout clothes - they are special to me and I associate them with pleasure and fun and happiness. I love my lifting gloves and my heart rate monitor. All my little bits of gear.I approached my run today with some nervousness. I planned 14k. I dressed for the weather, in layers. I planned music for company. I packed water and go-gel. My marathon dog Odie watched me patiently and not-so-patiently as I stalled a bit on getting out of the house. My intention for running was to notice the beauty around me and really appreciate it - to soak into myself its goodness. I noticed colours. The clouds were as grey and puffy as sheep. Sun came in and out, changing the colours of the sand and the dunes. The grasses in early June are a light green. The early wild flowers bloom now - the dunes smelled of strawberries - only it was a note higher - sweeter, a little more lyrical and less edible. The wild roses were palest pink in the center fading to white outwards. Red poppies. white lace weeds. blue buds of flowers that ripen later, in July.The waves left marks on the sand. Crescent lines, intersecting. Tide pools drained. As I made my way along the shore, I could see the waves that weren't there anymore. There was no arguing with the rivulets leaving the tide pools. Either I jumped, changed course, or accepted a wet foot. Sometimes I had to really stretch to keep dry feet. Life is the same as these waters.As the sun came in and out, I saw colours more clearly and then more darkly. Did the sand change? Or just how I saw it.The waves remained in motion. Utterly being themselves. Flattened by the wind, they persisted and rolled and crashed quietly. The horizon remained with me, always receding with my approach. I thought of Now. I am never in tomorrow. I never reach the lip of the world and fall over the horizon. The part of the run behind me - well, it was already past. The part of the run ahead - well, I wasn't there yet. I am in the step I am taking. Looking for where to put my foot. Even so, even with the focus on the very next step, everything continued to change; the turn around point appeared - (this run was "out and back"). I had run through the part of the beach reserved for distance runners. No picnickers here - no easy access from a parking lot or tram stop or bike path. It's the empty part of the run. Empty except for the other distance runners. And Odie, who runs twice as far as I do. I watch how he runs. He is very playful. He dug up a chunk of wood, carried it like a prize. Tossed it around in the surf, retrieving it. Then forgot it entirely. He greeted and romped with other dogs. He got hot and bathed himself, both in the sea waves and tidal pools. Watching him splash around in a too-small puddle to cool off makes me laugh. He's like a bird taking a bath, wriggling and rolling. Like a seal pup. He comes up to me, checking in, tiring a little. I have the impression he's inquiring whether we're turning around yet.Finally the beach cat club appears, and I continue running until I'm at the lay-line, parallel to it. Here there are beach goers again. Sailors, kids, couples. Odie noses around to see them and comes back to me easily, as I have turned toward the long second-middle of the run.At this point in the run - about 8k, I feel like everything is falling apart for a moment. I think I haven't brought enough water, and not enough go-gel. And why didn't I bring my dextrose tablets. I feel a shift in my body - a step down of sorts - will I crash?- and I feel a little confusion. I keep up with my running and walking segments, maintaning the structure of the run while I scan and diagnose. I am okay, I tell myself. I can do this. I have run this distance before. I realise I am simply too hot. Off with the shirt. I can figure out what I need and meet that need.Continually I am bringing my thoughts back to the colour of the sand and the sky and the dunes and the patterns of the sand beneath my steps. I muse about my training program. I muse about DH. And I come back to my run. Again and again, I look at the thoughts that knock me out of heaven. I am not my thoughts. My thoughts are thinking themselves. I do some turn-arounds on them. The used cereal bowl left behind this morning - it's not fair if he. I turn it around - it's not fair if I ... I don't need him to put away his bowl for me to be happy. I don't need to be angry for me to make a request.I am thinking about my friend J's comment on my "don't look back Go the distance" post. He says, looking back is okay. I agree. I want to change the title. The title should be Don't get stuck. He says, the horizon is right over there. Keep moving. I agree. I am still afraid though. I want to develop bravery. That is the warrior path. Bravery. Opening my book on warriorship, I see that my teacher has written,Quote:it is a journey that is unfolding within us. ... Physically, psychologically, domestically, spiritually, we feel we can live our lives in the fullest way. There is a gut-level sense of health and wholesomeness taking place in our lives, as if we were holding a solid brick of gold. It is heavy and full and shines with a golden colour. There is something very real and at the same time, very rich about our human existence. Out of that feeling, a tremendous sense of health can be propogated to others. In fact, propogating health becomes a basic discipline of warriorship. By discipline we do not mean something unpleasant or artificial that is imposed from outside. Rather, this discipline is an organic process that expands naturally from our own experience. When we feel healthy and wholesome ourselves, then we cannot help projecting that healthiness to others.