Time for shop talk. Warning, when I use the preceding phrase, that means that I'm going to be talking about my bread and butter, my long-time mistress and first love, Philosophy. I was trying to keep it away from my blogging, and it's funny that it was when I mad that decision, that was about the time that I stopped blogging with any frequency. Funny how that happens, huh? Well as you can see, I have decided to abandon that rather meaningless policy and throw my ideas out there so that they will be etched in the digital stone that is the world wide web, and not on a flimsy piece of paper in the drawer of my desk that my fabulous lady Erin is currently whispering that I get rid of (okay, I concede that it is made of plywood...plywood and memories). However, though I will be intermittently wrestling with issues philosophical/theoretical on this blog, there are two things that will remain constant (so help me Plato):
1) I will still be writing about pushing myself in running toward a marathon and in being a grown-up man.
2) I will keep my posts accessible. Though I may engage in "shop talk" (which will also be the corresponding tag for posts of a philosophical bent), I will not be esoteric or overly technical. Anything that took me more than a few sentences of explanation to learn as an undergrad, I will explain briefly.
That stuff now out of the way, off I go!
Yesterday, in Metaphysics class, my professor was talking about the A-theory and B-theory of time. There are many complications, but the main difference can be laid out thusly (and arguments extrapolated from what each statement implies):
A-series - There is a past, present, and future. Each event goes from being the future, to presently happening, and then becoming past.
B-series - The A-series makes no sense. Time is a dimension like space, laid out in a certain way. Terms like "now" or "the present" are simply indexicals (like "I", where the meaning changes based on the conditions under which the word is uttered), and events are merely earlier than, later than, or concurrent with some arbitrarily chosen point in time.
Now, the big issue between the two, and between several different A-theorists, is that it seems that when we experience things, we seem to have, as part of the content "now". Let me explain. Let's say I'm in pain, I have a monstrous toothache. The content of my experience is "tooth in pain" or something like that. But the A-theorist says that in addition to that, we have a "nowness" that attaches to that experience. The B-theorist, it seems can't account for that, because all of time is on an equal plane, there is no "now" that is priveleged, and it certainly can't be part of an experience. I find that utterly convincing. There's more jargon to the argument, involving propositions, truthmakers, etc, but I am truly convinced by it.
I really only bring that up as a segue into a larger theme of my learned life. From my first Philosophy of Mind class as an undergrad, I've always had problems with certain philosophical doctrines. With ethics and Moral Philosophy, it's easy to see the root of any aversions one might have with a theory, because there are certain moral intuitions and value judgments that people bring with them to any philosophical debate. But things get murkier when you're discussing metaphysics. After all, the main question of metaphysics is "what is reality like?". And if you're doing metaphysics, and you make claims to describe reality, another metaphysician will no doubt ask you the above question, but without the last word. That question, the more basic one, is the ontological question. It is the question that W.V.O. Quine made philosophers focus on midway through the 20th century: "what is there? what exists?". This question can be asked more technically, in a sense, by asking "what do your quantifiers range over?". I have always been inclined to answer these questions by saying "only concrete particulars exist, my quantifiers ranger over only concrete particulars, that's all that there is". I thought that this was the bedrock of my metaphysical theorizing, and it led me to some pretty dismissive attitudes in metaphysical talks. It would go something like this:
Philosopher A: Properties?
Me: Nope
Philosopher A: Propositions?
Me: No way.
Philosopher A: Concrete possible worlds?
Me: Uh-uh.
Philosopher A: Abstract possible worlds?
Me: Not a chance [there's a hidden philosophy joke there]
Philosopher A: Numbers? Sets?
Me: Null. [also a hidden joke]
You get the idea. I however, did not really look at that until recently, when we were discussing Presentism. That is the doctrine that the only things that exist are the things in the present moment, or more succinctly, to exist is to be in the present. This means that there are no things in the past, and there is no future to which to travel at a faster rate than time moves. But my inclination to this view enlightened me regarding my most basic ontological attitude: keep it simple! I am concerned with keeping the leanest ontology possible. This means that even with regards to time, I operate with the least amount of existing entities. This gives me, in a sense, a new foundation from which to build my philosophical house. It also gives me something to fight for in the "field" that I have chosen. I fight for parsimony, I fight for simplicity. Maybe it's an extension of my laziness, but I think I can live with that, so long as "laziness" is not an abstract property.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Know the Trick: The Trick is to Know.
Yes, I've not been posting for a while. I could try to formulate an excuse for this that could not be reasonably rejected by any one of my readers, but I won't waste either of our precious time. I got lazy, I had to take time off to rest a slightly defective ankle, and I started working.
Yes, that's right! You did not misread the above line, I started a job. I won't name names, or pay-rates. Suffice it to say that I secured a retail job that I don't really like, but am comfortable with because it is temporary, uninvolved, and non-committal. Those aspects come into play come January, because I will be re-assuming my old position at the University. Yes, this is a good thing. I will have said position until May, when I plan to graduate with my M.A. in Philosophy. This brings me to my next point.
I have certain places on the internet that I value for their ability to give me valuable knowledge on a regular basis. One site tells me how a grown man ought to dress, another tells me who's publishing which papers on what philosophical topics, and another tells me what the people I know are up to. The list goes on, but I won't bother publishing any more of my increasingly geeky trail of links. But there is one particular site that I perused today for the first time in a while, which really spoke to my recent productivity downturn (I'd link that phrase to a demonstration of said downturn, but you can't link to a lack of blog posts, know what I mean?). The site is owned and operated by one Merlin Mann, not to be confused with Manfred Mann. It's called 43folders.com (type in the address yourself, I'm tired of linking), and it's all about productivity and what's called "knowledge work". Now, I read this post today, and it changed my way of looking at things. If you have time, watch the video. If you have less time, watch the first 8 minutes or so, you'll get inspired enough. So what does this have to do with getting my M.A. in Philosophy? (Thought I forgot, didn't you?) Well, in case you didn't stop reading my blog to watch the video on the last link, the subject of the video is a little secret about how to be productive. The key is to not forget who you are.
I'll try to simplify as much as I can. Productivity is what we in the philosophical field call a "teleological" concept. It only has meaning so far as it is attached to a thinker (and in this case, a thinker who acts on thoughts) and a goal. No one is just "productive" full stop. A person is productive with regards to a certain goal. This goal is largely a product of, or may very well define who you are. Answer the following question: What do you do? The answer will most likely be a description of your profession or desired profession that you are trying to break into. I am a philosopher, that would be my answer. So, I am productive if I do the things that I set out for myself philosophically speaking. I have articles to read, papers to write, comprehensive exams for which to study. My being productive comes from knowing what I have to know, knowing what I have to do, and doing what I have to do. My NOT being productive happens when I forget that I am supposed to be doing philosophy. I can attest to this. I find myself on all sorts of internet oddysseys in which I am learning all sorts of facts that it was not my goal to learn, and in which I have no interest. Then I lose track of where I was when I was on task (if I was on task at all), and I am not productive.
This is not to say that you always have to be doing work that contributes to your life's work. Well......actually, let me rephrase that. You will find that as you start working more--I mean "heads down", 90 words-per-minute type work--you will find that taking breaks and having fun and free time is actually a vital part of your work. My work is largely based on theoretical frameworks, fleshing out arguments, cross-referencing, use of analogies, and so on. Long spans of time doing that work can make innovation and creativity slower to come. I have found that I am most productive when I can get up, do something else for a bit, and get back to work. But here's the catch; I have to fully participate in that break (whatever the task is). If I am talking to my lady, I have to only talk to her, not think about one of my argument's sub-arguments or try to remember why Scanlon takes reasons as primitive (it's roughly the same as resemblance nominalists taking similarity as primitive, don't worry!). This way, when I come back to the laptop and the books, I am fresh, and I don't resent my work for taking my attention away from the other things I choose to do. Much like the Offspring wisely said; "You gotta keep 'em separated".
So what should you take away from all this sludge? Know who you are, and do the things that you need to do. Don't forget that, and you'll be fine. It's simple. But as I believe I've said before, simple does not mean easy. I must also apply this to running. I am a philosopher, yes, but I am also a man training to run a marathon. So I need to focus on running when I'm running, and make progress when I must. In that vein, it's been tough. I did something to my ankle, and though I did 5 miles Monday and 4 and some change today, it's still keeping me from pushing hard. I'll accept that, it comes with the territory. But when I can push, I'll be doing just that.
Onward!
(This post is dedicated to KJ. He left this world too soon, for he wasn't done changing it yet. You are in my prayers, buddy.)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Onward and Upward
Yes, it has been quite a while since I posted on this blog. You've got me, I have been trippin'. But the lack of posting is not due to a lack of happenings. In fact, were there actually a lack of happenings, there would be more posting, as that seems to be just how it goes for me. But several things have been happening all at once, sapping my time, energy, and attention, but pushing me further along in my quest to be a full-fledged, bona fide grown up. Here's a quick bullet point list of what's been happening (in absolutely no particular order aside from my stream of consciousness):
- Erin and I received financial approval for a home loan, searched through hundreds of houses in our area, looked at close to 20+ houses, and put in an offer on one--which was accepted just last Friday.
- I went on around 4 job interviews which ate up a considerable amount of time (and neckties)
- I spent an exorbitant amount of time, gas, calories, and verbal energy taking care of a small personal matter that has been burdening me for the last 3 years, finally closing a chapter in my life that I am glad to leave behind.
- I received the gift of phenomenal new shoes, moisture-wicking cold-weather wear, and awesome gloves, to help me run straight through the notoriously feisty Midwestern winter.
- I ran....a lot. In the past 3 weeks, I have made big Monday runs of 6, 7, and 8 miles respectively. I have also ratcheted up the mileage on my smaller runs, going from two-three 5Ks per week to three 5-mile runs on Wed-Fri each week. My grand total last week: 22 miles.
- I've been hanging with my folks quite a bit. My family means more to me now that it probably ever has before. And it is funny that this is the case, as I have officially made my living away from my parents a permanent situation. But I am glad that I am now in contact with my family (and my future family) more these days, because it reaffirms the theme that has been present in my life for the past year and half: constant progress.
- I've been doing some heavy academic work. I'm starting to get used to Philosophy being a large part of my life again. It has been a while, and I still find myself weirded out by the presence of this fickle mistress, but I'm glad to have her back (so long as my #1 lady doesn't get jealous).
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Find Your Pace, Find Your Peace.
One of the intriguing things about life, broadly construed, is momentum. Sometimes, you can be pressing onward at a snail's pace, feeling heavy as a concrete slab. Other times, things seem to moving along like a windswept parachute, pulled quickly off the ground and far afield. The momentum may seem like it's random, and like you have no control over it, but I'm not so sure that that's the case. For the past week, I have been quite busy, for the first time in recent memory. I have had interviews at various possible employers, taken tests at a staffing agency, run into interesting research projects on the academic side of things, started taking steps to possibly move into a house with the woman of my dreams, and sorting out my future. Were I not newly in the habit of pushing myself to keep going, I'm not so sure that I'd be up for all of it. But lately, I've been pushing myself to keep moving; not moving senselessly and merely to stay moving, but to keep plowing through the tough terrain that is working to achieve my goals. I am also not moving mindlessly, trying not to deal with my feelings and thoughts that make my present moment, for that would be more dangerous than even sitting still. Rather, I am striking the balance between barely moving and thoughtlessly speeding along with no presence of mind. Allow me to make one more analogy in regards to running (that is, after all, a main theme in this blog, is it not?)
Imagine the mind and the body as two running partners. They're unwillingly tied to each other, need one another to do their best, but their tragedy is that they are so unevenly matched. The mind has the ability to keep on running faster and farther into the future, into uncharted possible futures, and quickly as far backward into a cloudy past. But the body can only run forward at the pace of the present moment, and unfortunately, it has to do so at the mercy of its reluctant partner, the mind, and its volatile changes of pace.
When I first started running, I wanted so much more than I could do in one session. I wanted to be able to run at an 8 minute mile pace, I wanted to go on for 5 and 10 miles in one fell swoop. In short, my mind took off at breakneck pace, and my body was left in the dust. But at some point, I stopped thinking that I had to one day run a marathon--my mind slowed down a bit--or even that I'd have to run a half-marathon--slower--or a 20k--slower--or whatever large race toward which I was moving. I forgot also that I had to run the 4 miles that I set out to when I left the house this morning--slower--and furthermore that I had to make it up the hill in front of me to get to the comfortable slight decline of the next road--slower. In reality, all I had to do was take the next step, because that's all that I have to do right now--slower. It was at that moment that my mind matched the pace of my body. Perhaps the mind realized that ultimately, even if he crossed the finish line long before his partner, he'd still have to stand there and wait for him, twiddling his thumbs the whole time with that limitless nervous energy that the mind seems to posses. With my mind now matching pace with my body, I rounded out the four miles charted for today without stopping, and even managed to help two old ladies find the detour to the main road.
So while momentum is a very real phenomenon that pervades the experience of living life, the supposition that it comes and goes involuntarily is quite unfounded. While you or your significant other may not actually run, your mind almost certainly does, at various paces, which rarely match that of your body. But if you can manage to sync the two, and harness the power of the teamwork that happens when the two run at a complimentary pace, well you just might find real happiness. But then again, what do I know? I'm crazy enough to think that running a marathon will be fun.
Numbers: I ran 4 miles today, after doing a big run of 6 miles on Monday (the record to date). The times of both had me running at a pace of between 8:30 and 8:45 per mile (which I hope to improve by including speedwork in the regimen). That brings the week's total to 10 miles, which I hope to increase to 13 or more, depending on how sore I am tomorrow.
Imagine the mind and the body as two running partners. They're unwillingly tied to each other, need one another to do their best, but their tragedy is that they are so unevenly matched. The mind has the ability to keep on running faster and farther into the future, into uncharted possible futures, and quickly as far backward into a cloudy past. But the body can only run forward at the pace of the present moment, and unfortunately, it has to do so at the mercy of its reluctant partner, the mind, and its volatile changes of pace.
When I first started running, I wanted so much more than I could do in one session. I wanted to be able to run at an 8 minute mile pace, I wanted to go on for 5 and 10 miles in one fell swoop. In short, my mind took off at breakneck pace, and my body was left in the dust. But at some point, I stopped thinking that I had to one day run a marathon--my mind slowed down a bit--or even that I'd have to run a half-marathon--slower--or a 20k--slower--or whatever large race toward which I was moving. I forgot also that I had to run the 4 miles that I set out to when I left the house this morning--slower--and furthermore that I had to make it up the hill in front of me to get to the comfortable slight decline of the next road--slower. In reality, all I had to do was take the next step, because that's all that I have to do right now--slower. It was at that moment that my mind matched the pace of my body. Perhaps the mind realized that ultimately, even if he crossed the finish line long before his partner, he'd still have to stand there and wait for him, twiddling his thumbs the whole time with that limitless nervous energy that the mind seems to posses. With my mind now matching pace with my body, I rounded out the four miles charted for today without stopping, and even managed to help two old ladies find the detour to the main road.
So while momentum is a very real phenomenon that pervades the experience of living life, the supposition that it comes and goes involuntarily is quite unfounded. While you or your significant other may not actually run, your mind almost certainly does, at various paces, which rarely match that of your body. But if you can manage to sync the two, and harness the power of the teamwork that happens when the two run at a complimentary pace, well you just might find real happiness. But then again, what do I know? I'm crazy enough to think that running a marathon will be fun.
Numbers: I ran 4 miles today, after doing a big run of 6 miles on Monday (the record to date). The times of both had me running at a pace of between 8:30 and 8:45 per mile (which I hope to improve by including speedwork in the regimen). That brings the week's total to 10 miles, which I hope to increase to 13 or more, depending on how sore I am tomorrow.
Friday, October 2, 2009
No Matter What
If there's one thing that is the most important element of this whole operation, the glue that is holding this all together, it's staying positive. That's what's gotten me through the past year and some change, and what will get me from here today to the finish line (am I still talking about the marathon, or about life?). But sometimes I forget it, and I have to either be reminded, or remind myself. But I think it's appropriate here to tell the story of just how this all got rolling, and became the centerpiece of my life. Away we go....
In late 2006, I had developed a bad habit. I had graduated from college the year before, and entered graduate school with the goal of obtaining my Ph.D within 6 years. I was driven, I was determined, I was....burning out. I was in a hopelessly unhealthy relationship, I had become nearly a hermit, and I had no balance in my life. I spent days in a haze of walking and studying, theorizing and worrying. I spent nights arguing and/or sleeping in chairs next to hospital beds. I never allowed myself to find the middle-ground. Through it all, I carried around a stash of pills to get me through. I had white ones, blue ones, green ones, pink ones, circular ones, oval ones, uppers and downers. Simply put, I had become hooked on painkillers and benzodiazepines (look 'em up, you'll recognize a few names). After continuing the addiction to various degrees of severity, I was ordered into inpatient treatment in May of 2008. By that time, I had stopped attending classes with any regularity and was barely doing the day-to-day tasks. My grades fell drastically and I was dismissed from the graduate school via a letter delivered to me in rehab in July.
I spent three months in rehab, meeting and then befriending people from all walks of life. I med federal criminals, dealers, fathers, mothers, members and higher-ups of nearly every gang in and out of Chicago, and even a few people just like me. Actually, they were all just like me, they were addicts. They we addicts and alcoholics. They had come to the end of their rope (at least that particular rope) and were thrown in with everyone else like them to try to pick up the pieces for 90 days.
When I first got into the facility, I was unsure of how I would go about living there and what would happen afterward. But within the first day, I heard a counselor--a recovering crack addict with 30 years of addiction and 10 years of recovery under his belt--give a speech about being open-minded, about giving this (rehab) a chance in order to give yourself a chance. For whatever reason, I decided that day to stop being jaded, cynical, and drop the hubris that I had about handling my life. I decided that I needed help, and that I'd get it in treatment.
The 90 days went by more quickly than I ever thought they would. I left as the summer was winding down, in August of 2008. My 6 year relationship was ending, my parents had come to pick me (a now 25-year-old man-child) up, and I was entering a halfway house to make my transition back into sober living. While at the halfway house, I met some great people--people who had been all but given up on, and were trying to find the strength to make a life for themselves. I found that even when things were going badly for them, they'd still be there to help anyone who was dealing with addiction and it's accompanying demons. Every day, as we gathered to pray (in the non-specific, personal way) in the morning, I gained inspiration and wisdom. Sometimes I wondered how I'd gotten to a place where I felt real, genuine peace. I realized that through it all, though there were tough times, I stayed positive about what I was trying to do. I smiled, I breathed, and I kept moving forward.
So it was fitting that one day, at the job I had managed to get while at the halfway house, I found a rubber band that fit nicely around my wrist. Many people in the recovery community wore rubber bands, to remind themselves to keep going, to snap when they got a craving, or whatever would help them. I figured that since I often learn visually, I'd write something on the rubber band to remind myself of what I had to do to make it. I took a sharpie from under the counter and wrote "PMA" all around it in fat, black letters. PMA stands for Positive Mental Attitude. It's a concept that's been around for a while, and I learned of it through my affinity for hardcore punk, and the band "Bad Brains", which had used the phrase many times in their songs. I figured that of all the things that people had told me about my progress and my good qualities, they referred to my being positive and genuine. So if I had to attribute my new way of life to anything, it would be to staying positive, no matter what.
Today, I still wear a PMA bracelet. I have made two of them for others; one for the woman that I plan to spend my life with, and the other to Hakeem, a man I met in the halfway house who taught me the value of hard work and optimism. Wherever you are, Hakeem, I hope that you're still sober and you still qualify (he'd know what it means). I have gone through many rubber bands myself, due to stretching, breaking, and fading, but I always make sure to keep one on. Now more than ever, I have made it a point to stay positive--to do and say things that reflect an attitude of openness, willingness, and honesty, and to give all that I can to whatever I choose to do. So when I wake up, stretch, and step out the door to run, I do it until I finish, running through any shit that my body wants to give me. I'd like to say that I have been doing the same with my life in general, but it is not so. I've been reflecting too much on the repercussions of my past bad decisions, and of the difficulty of the career and life goals that I have set for myself, but I've been failing to give my all and stay positive about what I can do. So today, while I sat in an office at an employment agency, hoping to get some sort of job to put my head above water, and allow my lady to stop having to worry about money, I got to worrying. I thought: "what if I can't get over my scholastic and legal indiscretions, and I can't do my life's work? What if I don't get a fair shake based on my past?" I almost got overwhelmed yet again, but I quickly caught on to what my mind was doing, and thought: "well, what if I just sit around and worry instead of stop pretending to know the future and put all my effort and passion where it belongs?" I decided that the latter question was more worth asking.
I left the office determined, and positive. There will always be hardships on the path I have chosen, but the only way I can be defeated is if I give up. Knowing this, I can rest each day, knowing that I have put my all into what I am doing, and that I don't live in the future, I live now. After all, I can only do what I can do in this moment, that is all I have right now. I'm pretty sure that I can handle that.
If you've read this far, thanks for doing so, and stay positive.
P.S. I ran 5k yesterday, although I don't normally run on Thursdays. I also ran this morning, another 5k. I beat my time by nearly 30 seconds, brining my time up to 27:29. The total mileage for this week is 14 miles. I hope to rack up some more next week, starting with 6 miles on Monday. Here's hoping!
I spent three months in rehab, meeting and then befriending people from all walks of life. I med federal criminals, dealers, fathers, mothers, members and higher-ups of nearly every gang in and out of Chicago, and even a few people just like me. Actually, they were all just like me, they were addicts. They we addicts and alcoholics. They had come to the end of their rope (at least that particular rope) and were thrown in with everyone else like them to try to pick up the pieces for 90 days.
When I first got into the facility, I was unsure of how I would go about living there and what would happen afterward. But within the first day, I heard a counselor--a recovering crack addict with 30 years of addiction and 10 years of recovery under his belt--give a speech about being open-minded, about giving this (rehab) a chance in order to give yourself a chance. For whatever reason, I decided that day to stop being jaded, cynical, and drop the hubris that I had about handling my life. I decided that I needed help, and that I'd get it in treatment.
The 90 days went by more quickly than I ever thought they would. I left as the summer was winding down, in August of 2008. My 6 year relationship was ending, my parents had come to pick me (a now 25-year-old man-child) up, and I was entering a halfway house to make my transition back into sober living. While at the halfway house, I met some great people--people who had been all but given up on, and were trying to find the strength to make a life for themselves. I found that even when things were going badly for them, they'd still be there to help anyone who was dealing with addiction and it's accompanying demons. Every day, as we gathered to pray (in the non-specific, personal way) in the morning, I gained inspiration and wisdom. Sometimes I wondered how I'd gotten to a place where I felt real, genuine peace. I realized that through it all, though there were tough times, I stayed positive about what I was trying to do. I smiled, I breathed, and I kept moving forward.
So it was fitting that one day, at the job I had managed to get while at the halfway house, I found a rubber band that fit nicely around my wrist. Many people in the recovery community wore rubber bands, to remind themselves to keep going, to snap when they got a craving, or whatever would help them. I figured that since I often learn visually, I'd write something on the rubber band to remind myself of what I had to do to make it. I took a sharpie from under the counter and wrote "PMA" all around it in fat, black letters. PMA stands for Positive Mental Attitude. It's a concept that's been around for a while, and I learned of it through my affinity for hardcore punk, and the band "Bad Brains", which had used the phrase many times in their songs. I figured that of all the things that people had told me about my progress and my good qualities, they referred to my being positive and genuine. So if I had to attribute my new way of life to anything, it would be to staying positive, no matter what.
Today, I still wear a PMA bracelet. I have made two of them for others; one for the woman that I plan to spend my life with, and the other to Hakeem, a man I met in the halfway house who taught me the value of hard work and optimism. Wherever you are, Hakeem, I hope that you're still sober and you still qualify (he'd know what it means). I have gone through many rubber bands myself, due to stretching, breaking, and fading, but I always make sure to keep one on. Now more than ever, I have made it a point to stay positive--to do and say things that reflect an attitude of openness, willingness, and honesty, and to give all that I can to whatever I choose to do. So when I wake up, stretch, and step out the door to run, I do it until I finish, running through any shit that my body wants to give me. I'd like to say that I have been doing the same with my life in general, but it is not so. I've been reflecting too much on the repercussions of my past bad decisions, and of the difficulty of the career and life goals that I have set for myself, but I've been failing to give my all and stay positive about what I can do. So today, while I sat in an office at an employment agency, hoping to get some sort of job to put my head above water, and allow my lady to stop having to worry about money, I got to worrying. I thought: "what if I can't get over my scholastic and legal indiscretions, and I can't do my life's work? What if I don't get a fair shake based on my past?" I almost got overwhelmed yet again, but I quickly caught on to what my mind was doing, and thought: "well, what if I just sit around and worry instead of stop pretending to know the future and put all my effort and passion where it belongs?" I decided that the latter question was more worth asking.
I left the office determined, and positive. There will always be hardships on the path I have chosen, but the only way I can be defeated is if I give up. Knowing this, I can rest each day, knowing that I have put my all into what I am doing, and that I don't live in the future, I live now. After all, I can only do what I can do in this moment, that is all I have right now. I'm pretty sure that I can handle that.
If you've read this far, thanks for doing so, and stay positive.
P.S. I ran 5k yesterday, although I don't normally run on Thursdays. I also ran this morning, another 5k. I beat my time by nearly 30 seconds, brining my time up to 27:29. The total mileage for this week is 14 miles. I hope to rack up some more next week, starting with 6 miles on Monday. Here's hoping!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Just Be Stubborn
I would like to preface this post by saying that I generally advocate listening, and listening well. I believe, as I learned in rehab (yes, that kind of rehab, which I will explain soon enough), that to be aware is to be alive. Being aware necessitates being attentive, which means listening to not just what is said, but to what is not said, and to what cannot be said, because it's not linguistic. I mean that you have to be able to listen to your body, to the body language of the people around you, to interpret expressions, lack of expression, actions, and environments. By paying attention to all of that (and whatever I may not have mentioned that is of importance), you will have plenty of things to do, and boredom can never be an excuse for your actions (or lack of action). If you are aware and attentive, if you listen to your mind, body, and to others, you can learn quite a bit, and begin to live well.
But as is true of any suggested rule or set of rules that I can think of (and being a philosopher, I can think of many, trust me) there are counterexamples, exceptions. In the case of the maxim which can envelope what I said above, namely; listen and learn--there are times when you have to go against the suggestions of said rule. For example, when you wretch at the smell of some food item, when it totally turns you off if it is the main part of a dish, and when you can barely touch said food item without being sort of grossed out, don't eat it! Nature has given us plenty of differently textured, colored, flavored, and scented things to eat, so we should just consume what we aren't repulsed by. That was the case with bananas and me. I have never like bananas, they always smelled weird to me, they looked weired, the few times I tasted them I gagged, and I found very little appealing about them. But before I started this running venture, while working in the health and nutrition sector of retail, I found out a few things that warmed me up to bananas.
A) Potassium is key for sending messages throughout the nervous system. This includes the brain, muscles (like the heart, muscle tissue in the intestines, and other organs), and nerves throughout the body.
B) Potassium can be the cause of cramps during endurance exercises such as running (RUNNING!!!)
C) Potassium is so hard to get in the necessary amounts from any source other than BANANAS that you would have to swallow 30 large potassium supplement pills, eat a few CUPS of Almonds (which would just about tax your fat allowance for the day) or.....eat a BANANA!!!!
So I decided that I had to give in, and I started making fruit smoothies almost daily, with a huge banana in them. You know what, I kind of like bananas now. So I heard the maxims that nature provided me, and I listened to my wretching body, and I promptly ignored it.
Also, as has been documented in previous posts, I have been dealing with a foot....deal. It's like an injury, but less consistent. I'll run one day and it'll be sore near the end of the run and for an hour or so later, then end the day fine. I'll wake up the next morning (like yesterday morning, for instance), and it'll be stiff up to the ankle and hurting all day. So I gave it from last Thursday to this Monday off, trying to be attentive to my body's signals. But when I woke up today with no pain or stiffness, I decided that yeah, it's good to listen, but if the person you're listening to is f*@#ing crazy, you won't learn anything, and you'll waste time. So I went out and ran a full 5 kilometers, fully expecting my foot to start babbling on halfway through, still making no sense, but telling me to stop. So about halfway through, as ol' lefty started nagging me, I decided that since my calves were still a bit sore from Monday's big run, I'll push more from my quads down to my knees. And whaddaya know, this shut my foot right up. I ran the next 1 and a half miles in that mode and my foot stopped bothering me. When I got to the home stretch, I even stepped up the pace a little and ended with both feet doing fine. I also managed to beat my current solo 5k record by nearly a minute, clocking in at 27:53.
So what have I learned from this experience? Sure, listening is good. If you don't listen you your mother, she'll get angry and punish you. If you don't listen to your girlfriend, you can bank on not having said girlfriend for long, and if you don't listen to your body, it will rebel and make you sorry. But just because you listen doesn't mean that you have to accept what's being said. So I found that while it was good to listen to my foot's moaning and groaning, after a while I just realized that 's moaning and groaning because it's a pussy (which prompted me to ask it to stop pussy-footing around, *zing*), and while I should listen to it, I can also tell it to stop being whiny and run with me. Stubborn? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.
But as is true of any suggested rule or set of rules that I can think of (and being a philosopher, I can think of many, trust me) there are counterexamples, exceptions. In the case of the maxim which can envelope what I said above, namely; listen and learn--there are times when you have to go against the suggestions of said rule. For example, when you wretch at the smell of some food item, when it totally turns you off if it is the main part of a dish, and when you can barely touch said food item without being sort of grossed out, don't eat it! Nature has given us plenty of differently textured, colored, flavored, and scented things to eat, so we should just consume what we aren't repulsed by. That was the case with bananas and me. I have never like bananas, they always smelled weird to me, they looked weired, the few times I tasted them I gagged, and I found very little appealing about them. But before I started this running venture, while working in the health and nutrition sector of retail, I found out a few things that warmed me up to bananas.
A) Potassium is key for sending messages throughout the nervous system. This includes the brain, muscles (like the heart, muscle tissue in the intestines, and other organs), and nerves throughout the body.
B) Potassium can be the cause of cramps during endurance exercises such as running (RUNNING!!!)
C) Potassium is so hard to get in the necessary amounts from any source other than BANANAS that you would have to swallow 30 large potassium supplement pills, eat a few CUPS of Almonds (which would just about tax your fat allowance for the day) or.....eat a BANANA!!!!
So I decided that I had to give in, and I started making fruit smoothies almost daily, with a huge banana in them. You know what, I kind of like bananas now. So I heard the maxims that nature provided me, and I listened to my wretching body, and I promptly ignored it.
Also, as has been documented in previous posts, I have been dealing with a foot....deal. It's like an injury, but less consistent. I'll run one day and it'll be sore near the end of the run and for an hour or so later, then end the day fine. I'll wake up the next morning (like yesterday morning, for instance), and it'll be stiff up to the ankle and hurting all day. So I gave it from last Thursday to this Monday off, trying to be attentive to my body's signals. But when I woke up today with no pain or stiffness, I decided that yeah, it's good to listen, but if the person you're listening to is f*@#ing crazy, you won't learn anything, and you'll waste time. So I went out and ran a full 5 kilometers, fully expecting my foot to start babbling on halfway through, still making no sense, but telling me to stop. So about halfway through, as ol' lefty started nagging me, I decided that since my calves were still a bit sore from Monday's big run, I'll push more from my quads down to my knees. And whaddaya know, this shut my foot right up. I ran the next 1 and a half miles in that mode and my foot stopped bothering me. When I got to the home stretch, I even stepped up the pace a little and ended with both feet doing fine. I also managed to beat my current solo 5k record by nearly a minute, clocking in at 27:53.
So what have I learned from this experience? Sure, listening is good. If you don't listen you your mother, she'll get angry and punish you. If you don't listen to your girlfriend, you can bank on not having said girlfriend for long, and if you don't listen to your body, it will rebel and make you sorry. But just because you listen doesn't mean that you have to accept what's being said. So I found that while it was good to listen to my foot's moaning and groaning, after a while I just realized that 's moaning and groaning because it's a pussy (which prompted me to ask it to stop pussy-footing around, *zing*), and while I should listen to it, I can also tell it to stop being whiny and run with me. Stubborn? Maybe. Effective? Absolutely.
Monday, September 28, 2009
A Cure for the Mondays?
Apparently, since the dawn of the workweek, employed humanity has been grappling with a weekly 24-hour bug called "the Mondays". Symptoms include grogginess, heavy eyelids, general malaise, soreness, stiffness, inclination to buy lunch at a drive-thru, and increased caffeine consumption. The cause for this disease seems to be the awareness that from around 7 am on Mondays, there are around 120 more hours of workweek to get through. This has been hypothesized to cause a reaction in the body which makes it harder to wake from sleep, harder to perform basic tasks, and an absence of familiar work ethic and motivation. I have had this virus many times, and have never been able to find a cure for it. Perhaps I was looking in the wrong place, and I needed to be in a different paradigm to find the answer (at least my answer for my particular strain of the Mondays). Currently, I am not employed, but have spent the past few weeks on various interviews, and also attending my graduate class. So, while my weeks have not been exactly like those of one who works, I do wake at 7 am each morning, prepare a bagged lunch, breakfast, coffee, and clean errant dishes and such--all before 8 am. So while I don't go to work after that, I am more than prepared to do so. All that aside, I may have found the way to break the chain of downtroddenness.
I will be bold and say that, perhaps if I start the day with something exciting, something inspiring, something positive on Monday, I will break the virus before it takes hold. You see, since I began this running venture, I have learned from various sources that of the 3-5 times that a person runs each weak, one of those sessions should be the "big run". The Big Run is the session where you push past the last week's limit. So since last week, I ran 4 miles on the Big Run, this week's big run will be...5 miles. Now, when a runner does his or her Big Run is up to that runner and his or her schedule and preferences. Since I don't run on the weekends, I am fully rested and recovered by Monday. Thus, it makes sense to push myself on Monday. I have been doing this for the past 3 weeks, if I remember correctly. So, as I lumbered up the stairs to my apartment, sweaty and breathing heavily (ladies, restrain yourself), I realized that I like Mondays. Every day that I push myself to the limit, and accomplish something that I'm proud of, it makes that day much better. So if I save the Big Run for Monday, I can start off the morning with a bang, and cruise into Tuesday high from the fumes of victory and the soreness that comes with pushing your body further than before. I dare any of the drugs that I may or may not have tried to beat that!
The only problem with this plan is that once I get to being able to run 10 miles, there won't be anything to push past on a weekly basis. I will have to run more than 10 miles at some points, but not on a regular basis. Perhaps I will have to settle for doing more speedwork on Mondays, and basking in the knowledge that I have bested my last time for a given distance. Also, it's getting to be a bit colder outside, and I lack gear to deal with that. Sure, I have a raggedy hoodie and I have a few hats, but that exhausts my cold weather workout gear. My only options will be to save money once I am employed and find some clearance workout, moisture-wicking gear, or find a gym to join that has an indoor track. But those worries need not hold me back now. For now, I've got the cure for the Mondays, while supplies last.
Today's tally: Unfortunately, I miscalculated and ran just shy of 5 miles, clocking in at about 44:30, with no stops (save for a car at an intersection once). I'm counting it as 5 miles, since I could've gone longer. This will make next Monday's goal 6 miles, which will bring me into near-10k territory. I might scale back a bit, and stick to just under 6 miles, so that I can just plain do 10k the week after next, but we'll see how the variables play out.
I will be bold and say that, perhaps if I start the day with something exciting, something inspiring, something positive on Monday, I will break the virus before it takes hold. You see, since I began this running venture, I have learned from various sources that of the 3-5 times that a person runs each weak, one of those sessions should be the "big run". The Big Run is the session where you push past the last week's limit. So since last week, I ran 4 miles on the Big Run, this week's big run will be...5 miles. Now, when a runner does his or her Big Run is up to that runner and his or her schedule and preferences. Since I don't run on the weekends, I am fully rested and recovered by Monday. Thus, it makes sense to push myself on Monday. I have been doing this for the past 3 weeks, if I remember correctly. So, as I lumbered up the stairs to my apartment, sweaty and breathing heavily (ladies, restrain yourself), I realized that I like Mondays. Every day that I push myself to the limit, and accomplish something that I'm proud of, it makes that day much better. So if I save the Big Run for Monday, I can start off the morning with a bang, and cruise into Tuesday high from the fumes of victory and the soreness that comes with pushing your body further than before. I dare any of the drugs that I may or may not have tried to beat that!
The only problem with this plan is that once I get to being able to run 10 miles, there won't be anything to push past on a weekly basis. I will have to run more than 10 miles at some points, but not on a regular basis. Perhaps I will have to settle for doing more speedwork on Mondays, and basking in the knowledge that I have bested my last time for a given distance. Also, it's getting to be a bit colder outside, and I lack gear to deal with that. Sure, I have a raggedy hoodie and I have a few hats, but that exhausts my cold weather workout gear. My only options will be to save money once I am employed and find some clearance workout, moisture-wicking gear, or find a gym to join that has an indoor track. But those worries need not hold me back now. For now, I've got the cure for the Mondays, while supplies last.
Today's tally: Unfortunately, I miscalculated and ran just shy of 5 miles, clocking in at about 44:30, with no stops (save for a car at an intersection once). I'm counting it as 5 miles, since I could've gone longer. This will make next Monday's goal 6 miles, which will bring me into near-10k territory. I might scale back a bit, and stick to just under 6 miles, so that I can just plain do 10k the week after next, but we'll see how the variables play out.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Drastic Changes
I would like to start off this post with an apology. Erin, I am sorry. I told you I wasn't going to run, that I would take it easy on my foot and be prudent, but I felt crazy energetic this morning and did it anyway. I'm sorry, baby, but I had to. That last clause, however, is a good segue into the main theme of this post. You see when I first started this quest of mine, a little over a month ago, I did so because I hated to run. I had no love for running, especially long distances. But I knew from experience, that the only way to make a drastic change in your life...is to make a drastic change. Now this might sound like a tautology to most of you, and semantically speaking, it is. However, instead of being totally non-informative, like most tautologies, this one holds the key to changing your life. When I started this journey, I knew that in order to make it happen, I'd have to run on a schedule. This schedule would stay the same whether I wanted to run or not. If there wasn't a tornado, volcano, J-Lo, or anything else that ends in "o" outside, I would have to be there, running. To do that would be the drastic change that I would make. Now, having committed and made that change, I found myself today wanting--nay, needing--to run, despite the lingering pain and stiffness in my left foot (and lack of good running shoes to cradle it). That is the drastic change that happened to me, which was the result of the change that I made. So now the tautology should make some sense to you; if you want things to change drastically, you need to make drastic changes. It was the workings of that law of the will that placed me in my living room, staring at my shoes as I put them on, thinking that a quick 3 mile run couldn't hurt.
But here's the kicker: though the pain kicked in pretty badly around the halfway mark, I used a little extra effort to keep the pressure off the left foot and trudged on. I got in, iced it for a while, and it feels the same as when I woke up, which is far better than yesterday. I wouldn't dare propose that the moral of this story is "keep running, even when your foot is begging you not to," but I will make the proposal that I didn't necessarily do the wrong thing this morning. Yes, I could have sat around and nursed my foot, lord knows I have the free time. I could've popped open a book, propped my foot up on the couch and let the day pass by. But when it comes down to it, I have made running a part of my life. I have never felt better than I do since I started. I have more confidence, a sense of continuing accomplishment, and am more in tune with my body and my mind. Simply put, running was that daily communion that I had been searching for, but never found. In that way, it's kind of like your car keys; you're just miffed that you can't find them, and when you do, they're always in the last place you looked, and usually in a place you didn't think they could be. Our world makes life tough enough as it is, take your peace where you can get it. But just because you've found your peace, your spirit, doesn't mean you have answers, it just means that you're okay with letting the questions stay open-ended.
But here's the kicker: though the pain kicked in pretty badly around the halfway mark, I used a little extra effort to keep the pressure off the left foot and trudged on. I got in, iced it for a while, and it feels the same as when I woke up, which is far better than yesterday. I wouldn't dare propose that the moral of this story is "keep running, even when your foot is begging you not to," but I will make the proposal that I didn't necessarily do the wrong thing this morning. Yes, I could have sat around and nursed my foot, lord knows I have the free time. I could've popped open a book, propped my foot up on the couch and let the day pass by. But when it comes down to it, I have made running a part of my life. I have never felt better than I do since I started. I have more confidence, a sense of continuing accomplishment, and am more in tune with my body and my mind. Simply put, running was that daily communion that I had been searching for, but never found. In that way, it's kind of like your car keys; you're just miffed that you can't find them, and when you do, they're always in the last place you looked, and usually in a place you didn't think they could be. Our world makes life tough enough as it is, take your peace where you can get it. But just because you've found your peace, your spirit, doesn't mean you have answers, it just means that you're okay with letting the questions stay open-ended.
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Bigger Monster Ahead
Yesterday, I had a small crisis, which was comprised of a few smaller crises. You see, along with the monster that I chose to commit to slaying by this time next year (running a marathon), I also chose to slay an even bigger monster who lives in a much further-away lair. This monster is the famed PhD monster. When I was a Junior undergraduate, back in 2004, I decided to pursue Philosophy as a profession. I got all wrapped up in Epistemology, Metaphysics of Mind, Distributive Justice, and all that glamor (I'm sure you all understand, no one is immune to it!), and decided that my passion lay therein. I started looking to graduate schools and committed to obtaining my PhD in Philosophy and becoming a professor. I certainly took the first steps toward that goal; I got my B.A., I started grad school, attempting to get my Master's with the plan of applying to a semi-prestigious PhD program. Somewhere in there, I had some personal snags (I really will have to tell that story sometime, it's my own personal "Fear and Loathing", but on a longer timeline, and less "cool"), and my academic situation became a small wreck.
Now, however, with my life back on track mentally, I am finding it a little frustrating that I will have to fix so much damage in order to build my life. I need to lengthen my school tenure a little longer just to get my M.A. in good standing. Then, there are the student loans that have lapsed into the payment period. I am now close to getting a job, but if I get it, it will only allow for night classes (of which the Philosophy department usually only offers one per semester, if even that). I need to take two classes next semester, and ace them both, to get back up to the GPA where I need to be. Couple all of that with the fact that I am flat broke and in need of a car that I am not constantly fearing will die on me, and you have the background for the past few days.
So now, when I report that I had somewhat of a meltdown in front of my lady yesterday, it will come as less of a surprise. We all have lapses in faith. We all have times when what we are trying do seems like too much, and we are ready to give in, and just take the road that everyone else has resigned to taking. However, not all of us are fortunate enough to have that time in the company of someone who cares enough to look at you, infuriated, and yell "if you're thinking that you're going to just give up and work the 9 to 5 now, that's just ridiculous. I have no wish to be with someone who would just do that." And that is the difference between how it used to be for me, and how it is. This woman, with whom I was just hours before having a huge argument about people that I had known in the past, still managed to let me know that she wasn't going to let me turn in my dreams for a handful of bullshit. For that, I am infinitely grateful.
With that all behind me, and with a renewed sense of direction and commitment, I got up, stretched and pushed myself. I modified my running style a bit, based on a video I watched of how marathoners run. I gotta say, it was a little easier to keep a constant pace that way. I pushed past my old mark, running just over 4 miles (6.5 km), and did it in just under 36 minutes, which means that my pace was about 8:48 per mile. Granted, that is a lot slower than what I'll need to do to run a marathon in less than 3:30, but I have moved up a bit in the distance running world. My foot was throbbing by the time I finished, but it's not hurting so much as I type this. As for the foot, it's nothing that new shoes can't fix. But as for the rest of the journey ahead, I'll need to make sure I always have that someone who makes me press on when I don't think I have the juice. She knows who she is.
Now, however, with my life back on track mentally, I am finding it a little frustrating that I will have to fix so much damage in order to build my life. I need to lengthen my school tenure a little longer just to get my M.A. in good standing. Then, there are the student loans that have lapsed into the payment period. I am now close to getting a job, but if I get it, it will only allow for night classes (of which the Philosophy department usually only offers one per semester, if even that). I need to take two classes next semester, and ace them both, to get back up to the GPA where I need to be. Couple all of that with the fact that I am flat broke and in need of a car that I am not constantly fearing will die on me, and you have the background for the past few days.
So now, when I report that I had somewhat of a meltdown in front of my lady yesterday, it will come as less of a surprise. We all have lapses in faith. We all have times when what we are trying do seems like too much, and we are ready to give in, and just take the road that everyone else has resigned to taking. However, not all of us are fortunate enough to have that time in the company of someone who cares enough to look at you, infuriated, and yell "if you're thinking that you're going to just give up and work the 9 to 5 now, that's just ridiculous. I have no wish to be with someone who would just do that." And that is the difference between how it used to be for me, and how it is. This woman, with whom I was just hours before having a huge argument about people that I had known in the past, still managed to let me know that she wasn't going to let me turn in my dreams for a handful of bullshit. For that, I am infinitely grateful.
With that all behind me, and with a renewed sense of direction and commitment, I got up, stretched and pushed myself. I modified my running style a bit, based on a video I watched of how marathoners run. I gotta say, it was a little easier to keep a constant pace that way. I pushed past my old mark, running just over 4 miles (6.5 km), and did it in just under 36 minutes, which means that my pace was about 8:48 per mile. Granted, that is a lot slower than what I'll need to do to run a marathon in less than 3:30, but I have moved up a bit in the distance running world. My foot was throbbing by the time I finished, but it's not hurting so much as I type this. As for the foot, it's nothing that new shoes can't fix. But as for the rest of the journey ahead, I'll need to make sure I always have that someone who makes me press on when I don't think I have the juice. She knows who she is.
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Iceman
When I started on this quest to go from lazy to long-distanceer (I probably made that word up, just to warn you), I either assumed that I was invincible or forgot to consider that I was not. Either way, I made the mistake of not taking into account that a) I don't have running shoes, just these guys, 40 dollars worth of nylon and minimal suede with a thin, uncoushioned sole
and b) the fact that I don't pay attention to (a) makes it that much easier to sustain a foot/ankle injury. You see, my routes have always centered around side-streets and winding "no-outlet" roads and such, but there are parts of the route in which uneven grassy land is unavoidable (unless I liked the idea of being hit by cars). Being an inexperienced runner and having the resulting unpolished stride and lack of "all-terrain" running knowledge, if I'm just pushing it for a half mile, pounding the ground, I do it the same for any terrain. Silly me, for this allowed my weak foot (ol' lefty to me) to pound too hard, on too uneven a ground, and somehow hurt himself. This is an injury that I have sustained before (though I don't remember how). It's just at the midpoint of my foot, right on the outside, and stretches back to near the heal. I noticed it after my session on Wednesday, but thought it was just soreness. I iced it a little that day and walked more on the inside of that foot around campus yesterday. I thought that if I could just stretch my foot back a little while stretching before today's run, and then run more on the inside of my foot (toward the arch), I'd be okay--at least for most of the run. From the get-go, I could feel my foot yelling at me each time it dropped. "Don't do this, you're not far, you can turn around!" he'd plead with me "When you slam me down on the ground, you're applying almost a ton of force upon me, it doesn't matter which part of my you favor, all of me feels it!"
Well, I politely told my foot to shove it and continued down the usual 5k path. Around the end of the second mile, I encounter a long patch of uneven, slightly uphill grassland. By that time, I had gotten accustomed to the persevering thud of my foot against the concrete and asphalt, but the grass and hard, bumpy dirt underneath was a different story. Around that time, I had to stop. I limp-jog/walked until I got off the grass, then legged it for the rest of the run on the asphalt. Needless to say, no time improvement today. But I have the quixotic hope that if I stay iced like T.I. and bring the heat like Gordon Ramsay for the duration of the weekend, I can do 4 miles on Monday. Actually let me put that in terms that agree more with the approach that I've come to take with myself about working toward this goal.
I will ice my foot, and heat it accordingly this weekend. Then on Monday morning, I will run 4 miles, whether I feel up to it or not. Whatever happens afterward is totally open, but as for what will occur after I stretch and step out the door until I return to my front door, I cannot waver on that.
and b) the fact that I don't pay attention to (a) makes it that much easier to sustain a foot/ankle injury. You see, my routes have always centered around side-streets and winding "no-outlet" roads and such, but there are parts of the route in which uneven grassy land is unavoidable (unless I liked the idea of being hit by cars). Being an inexperienced runner and having the resulting unpolished stride and lack of "all-terrain" running knowledge, if I'm just pushing it for a half mile, pounding the ground, I do it the same for any terrain. Silly me, for this allowed my weak foot (ol' lefty to me) to pound too hard, on too uneven a ground, and somehow hurt himself. This is an injury that I have sustained before (though I don't remember how). It's just at the midpoint of my foot, right on the outside, and stretches back to near the heal. I noticed it after my session on Wednesday, but thought it was just soreness. I iced it a little that day and walked more on the inside of that foot around campus yesterday. I thought that if I could just stretch my foot back a little while stretching before today's run, and then run more on the inside of my foot (toward the arch), I'd be okay--at least for most of the run. From the get-go, I could feel my foot yelling at me each time it dropped. "Don't do this, you're not far, you can turn around!" he'd plead with me "When you slam me down on the ground, you're applying almost a ton of force upon me, it doesn't matter which part of my you favor, all of me feels it!"
Well, I politely told my foot to shove it and continued down the usual 5k path. Around the end of the second mile, I encounter a long patch of uneven, slightly uphill grassland. By that time, I had gotten accustomed to the persevering thud of my foot against the concrete and asphalt, but the grass and hard, bumpy dirt underneath was a different story. Around that time, I had to stop. I limp-jog/walked until I got off the grass, then legged it for the rest of the run on the asphalt. Needless to say, no time improvement today. But I have the quixotic hope that if I stay iced like T.I. and bring the heat like Gordon Ramsay for the duration of the weekend, I can do 4 miles on Monday. Actually let me put that in terms that agree more with the approach that I've come to take with myself about working toward this goal.
I will ice my foot, and heat it accordingly this weekend. Then on Monday morning, I will run 4 miles, whether I feel up to it or not. Whatever happens afterward is totally open, but as for what will occur after I stretch and step out the door until I return to my front door, I cannot waver on that.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A Guts Race
Days in come in many flavors. Some days are tasty and awesome, some are sour and nerve-racking. But just as there are bland flavors, there are also days that resemble those mashed potatoes that, while homemade and the product of much sweat, lack the seasoning to be anything but bland. Yesterday, for both my lady and I, was those mashed potatoes. I ate them, of course, but I didn't particularly enjoy it. So, when I got up, had breakfast and some coffee, I wasn't sure where the energy for running would come from. But, as I have come to start reminding myself, I affirmed that I would have to do this thing, like so many others, because it needed to be done. A funny thing happened right after that resolution. I started stretching, and started feeling pretty enthused and energized. I remembered that against my own predictions made so long ago, I ran a straight 5 kilometers two days ago. I'm not just beginning anymore, I'm knee-deep in this, and all I have to do is keep moving. When I got outside and hit the start button on my watch, I rushed off, determined not just to run the same distance again today, but to run in faster. Cue the music....
Somewhere in the trail of imaginary dust that I left behind me, I left yesterday and it's *blah* sentiment as well. As I pushed on, a mile in about 8min, going uphill, then around curves, 15 minutes past halfway, I started making calculations. If I slowed my pace for a few minutes, then ramped up at the home stretch, I could beat my 5K time and push myself a bit harder. As I hit about 22 minutes, with about 3/4 mile to go, I got the beginnings of a cramp. I knew if I pushed through it, I might have to rest for longer, so I gave myself a minute, no more, to hit a fast walking pace. I picked it back up, went on the last major uphill, and then started taking big strides. As I hit what I've come to know on this route as "the home stretch", I felt my stride hit its limit, feeling like I might not be able to sustain it to the end. As that thought hit my mind, so did the quote that Steve Prefontaine offered to explain how he planned to win the 5000 meter (also 5K for those keeping score at home) race in the 1972 Olympics: "I am going to work so that it's a pure guts race. In the end, if it is, I'm the only one that can win it". I realized that, though I wasn't trying to beat a fellow racer, I was looking to beat my own time. If I wanted to do that, I had to have the guts to do it, to push myself to the end. I did, beating my time by a full minute, even with that minute walking break. With a new best time under my belt, I now have a new best time to beat: 28:45. Can I do it? Absolutely. The only question, then, is: do I have th guts to do it? Stay tuned, and as always, stay positive.
Somewhere in the trail of imaginary dust that I left behind me, I left yesterday and it's *blah* sentiment as well. As I pushed on, a mile in about 8min, going uphill, then around curves, 15 minutes past halfway, I started making calculations. If I slowed my pace for a few minutes, then ramped up at the home stretch, I could beat my 5K time and push myself a bit harder. As I hit about 22 minutes, with about 3/4 mile to go, I got the beginnings of a cramp. I knew if I pushed through it, I might have to rest for longer, so I gave myself a minute, no more, to hit a fast walking pace. I picked it back up, went on the last major uphill, and then started taking big strides. As I hit what I've come to know on this route as "the home stretch", I felt my stride hit its limit, feeling like I might not be able to sustain it to the end. As that thought hit my mind, so did the quote that Steve Prefontaine offered to explain how he planned to win the 5000 meter (also 5K for those keeping score at home) race in the 1972 Olympics: "I am going to work so that it's a pure guts race. In the end, if it is, I'm the only one that can win it". I realized that, though I wasn't trying to beat a fellow racer, I was looking to beat my own time. If I wanted to do that, I had to have the guts to do it, to push myself to the end. I did, beating my time by a full minute, even with that minute walking break. With a new best time under my belt, I now have a new best time to beat: 28:45. Can I do it? Absolutely. The only question, then, is: do I have th guts to do it? Stay tuned, and as always, stay positive.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Up the First Mountain
Sometimes in life......ah, nevermind. I don't really need any inspiring context-setting preface. This morning, I strapped on the shoes, stretched, and ran just over 5 Kilometers, 3.1 miles, non-stop. I started running just outside my apartment complex and didn't stop until I returned there, just under 30 minutes later. Now, as I peruse some of the results of past 5K races, my time of 29 minutes plus some change looks pretty shabby, but perhaps looking at those results was overreaching. The important thing that happened today was that I proved to myself that I could set a seemingly daunting goal and reach it. I told myself that I would be able to run a 5k non-stop by mid September, and I beat that goal. This is sort of bittersweet. It's bitter because now I have no excuse as to why I am not on my way to accomplishing my goals. It is sweet because I have no real obstacle over and above myself.
But this small victory, this reaching of the summit of the first peak, would not be complete without me taking a look at the next mountain to climb, the 10K. Sure, I'm happy that I did a straight 5K. But my goal was not just to do a 5K, it was, and still is, to run a marathon. So having reached my first small goal en route to the ultimate goal, I need to focus on reaching the next goal, training for a 10K race. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I also need to actually run a 5K race. Although I ultimately run against myself in this quest, it would behoove me to run a race against others. After all, if I plan to run a marathon by this time next year (or sooner), I ought to learn how to share the road.
Onward!
But this small victory, this reaching of the summit of the first peak, would not be complete without me taking a look at the next mountain to climb, the 10K. Sure, I'm happy that I did a straight 5K. But my goal was not just to do a 5K, it was, and still is, to run a marathon. So having reached my first small goal en route to the ultimate goal, I need to focus on reaching the next goal, training for a 10K race. But I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I also need to actually run a 5K race. Although I ultimately run against myself in this quest, it would behoove me to run a race against others. After all, if I plan to run a marathon by this time next year (or sooner), I ought to learn how to share the road.
Onward!
Friday, September 11, 2009
And On and On and On
It amazes me sometimes how attitudes about certain areas of one's life can be affected by attitudes adopted or implanted into other areas. But in a way, that's the very phenomenon on which I am counting during this year-long quest to run a marathon. In fact, I have already noticed that my drive and ambition has become more finely tuned and persistent since I started this training and began pushing myself. But what caught my attention was the reverse of that very observation happening. To see what I mean, let's go over a brief incident from 2 nights ago.
My stunning, beautiful, amazing (and perhaps super-powered) girlfriend, was talking with me about our respective career paths. Now, as far as careers go, I don't have one, and the one that Erin (my aforementioned lady) has is not the career she would like to have. I, however, am in school, and have some self-inflicted damage to my academic record to repair before I can even consider applying to PhD programs. You see, I'm a philosopher, a person who majored in, and is obtaining an M.A. in Philosophy. This means that until I get my PhD, there will be no work that will cater specifically to, nor demand, my particular skill set. The damage I need to repair will mean a few more semesters in school than I would have had to take, and will further postpone a PhD. In addition, I have a good amount of debt that needs to be paid down before it gets out of hand, and that will require me to, barring some financial miracle, enter the workforce for a few years after getting my M.A. Now, I'd have no problem with this, except for the fact that teaching at a Community College or Liberal Arts College with only an M.A. will provide nothing close to a sustainable income per year. This is something that I just had to come to terms with, and it was mighty uncomfortable to do so. But after talking it out with Erin for a while, she gave me a long hug and told me that she won't let me waste away in the workplace, and that she would make sure that I accomplished my goal. In a way, that was probably all that I needed to keep believing.
I woke up yesterday with renewed positivity, and I decided to have faith that it will work out, so long as I continue to push myself and stay positive. I didn't expect it, but that attitude seeped into my run yesterday morning. I used the Google Maps Distance Measuring Tool to map out a full 5 kilometer (3.2 mile) route. I went out hoping to do the whole thing without walking. Once I got out, I kept a good pace and kept a good breathing rhythm. However, I took a wrong turn, and ended up going down a road that cut a little distance off my run. When all was said and done, I ended up doing 4.5 k (almost 3 miles) in just under 25 minutes. At first, I was a little miffed when I realized that I couldn't possibly have run 5k in 25 minutes, but then I realized that even if I didn't run the full 5k, I could have. You see, I ran the whole distance without walking. I wanted to walk several times, but I pushed through it, and after a few minutes of running through the exhaustion, I stopped feeling it. By the time I reach my apartment complex, I realized that I could have run longer, no doubt about it. This was a big deal for me, because I've never run over a mile without stopping to walk a bit, and also because this indicated to me that I may just be ready to run a full 5k. To me, this is clear indication of progress. Once I run a 5k successfully, I am no longer a beginner. Once I can clock 12 or 15 miles per week, I am ready to start training for the kind of races that more serious runners do. In short, I may just becoming a runner, one who runs, and enjoys it. I'll keep you posted.
In the meantime, stay positive. It may just keep you afloat until the boat comes.
My stunning, beautiful, amazing (and perhaps super-powered) girlfriend, was talking with me about our respective career paths. Now, as far as careers go, I don't have one, and the one that Erin (my aforementioned lady) has is not the career she would like to have. I, however, am in school, and have some self-inflicted damage to my academic record to repair before I can even consider applying to PhD programs. You see, I'm a philosopher, a person who majored in, and is obtaining an M.A. in Philosophy. This means that until I get my PhD, there will be no work that will cater specifically to, nor demand, my particular skill set. The damage I need to repair will mean a few more semesters in school than I would have had to take, and will further postpone a PhD. In addition, I have a good amount of debt that needs to be paid down before it gets out of hand, and that will require me to, barring some financial miracle, enter the workforce for a few years after getting my M.A. Now, I'd have no problem with this, except for the fact that teaching at a Community College or Liberal Arts College with only an M.A. will provide nothing close to a sustainable income per year. This is something that I just had to come to terms with, and it was mighty uncomfortable to do so. But after talking it out with Erin for a while, she gave me a long hug and told me that she won't let me waste away in the workplace, and that she would make sure that I accomplished my goal. In a way, that was probably all that I needed to keep believing.
I woke up yesterday with renewed positivity, and I decided to have faith that it will work out, so long as I continue to push myself and stay positive. I didn't expect it, but that attitude seeped into my run yesterday morning. I used the Google Maps Distance Measuring Tool to map out a full 5 kilometer (3.2 mile) route. I went out hoping to do the whole thing without walking. Once I got out, I kept a good pace and kept a good breathing rhythm. However, I took a wrong turn, and ended up going down a road that cut a little distance off my run. When all was said and done, I ended up doing 4.5 k (almost 3 miles) in just under 25 minutes. At first, I was a little miffed when I realized that I couldn't possibly have run 5k in 25 minutes, but then I realized that even if I didn't run the full 5k, I could have. You see, I ran the whole distance without walking. I wanted to walk several times, but I pushed through it, and after a few minutes of running through the exhaustion, I stopped feeling it. By the time I reach my apartment complex, I realized that I could have run longer, no doubt about it. This was a big deal for me, because I've never run over a mile without stopping to walk a bit, and also because this indicated to me that I may just be ready to run a full 5k. To me, this is clear indication of progress. Once I run a 5k successfully, I am no longer a beginner. Once I can clock 12 or 15 miles per week, I am ready to start training for the kind of races that more serious runners do. In short, I may just becoming a runner, one who runs, and enjoys it. I'll keep you posted.
In the meantime, stay positive. It may just keep you afloat until the boat comes.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
If it Is Broke
There are some days in which I come to a realization, have an epiphany or sorts, if you will. The formula for these days is usually the same. The day begins uneventfully. I crawl out of bed as Erin is getting ready for work, I make her lunch, make some coffee, make breakfast, and read the day's news. But after all that, after the burned, old coffee is poured down the sink, something happens that changes the tone of the day. Many times, I am moved by something I read on the internet or hear on one of the many NPR programs to which I listen daily. But sometimes, I am forced, by some adversity, to change my way of thinking or behaving right on the spot. Just such a forcing happened yesterday afternoon.
I have class at NIU on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2pm. Given that it takes about 45 minutes to get there from my home, and I usually need to find parking on the street to avoid paying, I leave at around noon. This day in particular, I had to get a book I had put on hold at the library, one that I need for class and was hoping to have before class met. I made it to within about 5 miles of the campus when my car, the old beast, started running in a rough, but familiar way. I had experienced my share of flat tires on various cars in my time, and I knew that that's exactly what I'd see when I pulled over and examined the front passenger's side tire. I didn't hit anything (that I felt or saw, anyway), and I didn't hear a blowout. But there my tire was, staring at me like an unenthusiastic child at a birthday party, who just can't bring himself to get excited about the ball pit. This is a hurdle, yes, but it was one that could be jumped. However, this happened at about 1:10 pm, which left me 40 minutes to change the tire and find a place to park. That was, if I decided to forget about the fact that I could not drive the 40 or so miles of country road on a spare. This tire being on the tall-grass and gravel filled shoulder of a country road also appeared to make placing a jack under my car quite difficult.
Now, had this happened to me a mere year and a half ago, even while I was living right near campus, I would have thrown in the towel on class and lamented for a while before doing anything productive. But, almost as if I knew the bigger stakes of this battle, I jumped into a different mode. I thought to myself: at the very least, I cannot handle this how I would have handled it before. I have just skated by on the least amount of effort for a large portion of my life. I am not living like that anymore. I have the jack, the spare, the tire iron, and I'm not far from campus. More than anything, I just need to get to class. If I can show myself that I'm serious about my life's work, especially at this early stage of it, that will kick me into high-gear. Realizing this, I pried the spare tire, jack, and iron from my trunk, and got to work. The car was on uneven ground, gravel, sloping downward, and I wasn't even sure that I could get the jack to actually lift the car enough to change the tire without the jack slipping out from under. Having totally unjustified faith, and some kind of determination, I jacked the car up, unscrewed the rusty bolts on the wheel, and drove 5 sweaty, black grease-handed miles to the repair shop. I made it to the hall where my class is in just enough time to wash most of the grime off my hands and wipe the sweat off my face in the academic building's bathroom.
I walked into class a little tired and uncomfortable, hoping for the best. Within 5 minutes, I was fully absorbed in the class, having forgotten pretty much all the struggle it took to deal with that tire. After class, I went to the library and got the book I had been waiting for. We didn't even get to the chapter from that book in class, go me. So what did this prove to me? Well, just like the most pleasurable of moments, the grueling, arduous moments of a difficult task pass after a short time. So if I can count on that, and stick to it (whatever it may be), I will feel much better in the end, and get the fuel to keep going. I'm not going to be so bold as to claim that if I hadn't pushed myself to run further and longer yesterday morning, I wouldn't have had the perseverance to get to class as I did. I'm just going to say that perhaps in learning to push myself and stay focused something simple, I am also learning to push myself and stay focused in the bigger things. Today is an off day. I plan to get a little work done, and make some homemade chocolate chip cookies as well, prepared for any culinary flat tires that may come up along the way.
I have class at NIU on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2pm. Given that it takes about 45 minutes to get there from my home, and I usually need to find parking on the street to avoid paying, I leave at around noon. This day in particular, I had to get a book I had put on hold at the library, one that I need for class and was hoping to have before class met. I made it to within about 5 miles of the campus when my car, the old beast, started running in a rough, but familiar way. I had experienced my share of flat tires on various cars in my time, and I knew that that's exactly what I'd see when I pulled over and examined the front passenger's side tire. I didn't hit anything (that I felt or saw, anyway), and I didn't hear a blowout. But there my tire was, staring at me like an unenthusiastic child at a birthday party, who just can't bring himself to get excited about the ball pit. This is a hurdle, yes, but it was one that could be jumped. However, this happened at about 1:10 pm, which left me 40 minutes to change the tire and find a place to park. That was, if I decided to forget about the fact that I could not drive the 40 or so miles of country road on a spare. This tire being on the tall-grass and gravel filled shoulder of a country road also appeared to make placing a jack under my car quite difficult.
Now, had this happened to me a mere year and a half ago, even while I was living right near campus, I would have thrown in the towel on class and lamented for a while before doing anything productive. But, almost as if I knew the bigger stakes of this battle, I jumped into a different mode. I thought to myself: at the very least, I cannot handle this how I would have handled it before. I have just skated by on the least amount of effort for a large portion of my life. I am not living like that anymore. I have the jack, the spare, the tire iron, and I'm not far from campus. More than anything, I just need to get to class. If I can show myself that I'm serious about my life's work, especially at this early stage of it, that will kick me into high-gear. Realizing this, I pried the spare tire, jack, and iron from my trunk, and got to work. The car was on uneven ground, gravel, sloping downward, and I wasn't even sure that I could get the jack to actually lift the car enough to change the tire without the jack slipping out from under. Having totally unjustified faith, and some kind of determination, I jacked the car up, unscrewed the rusty bolts on the wheel, and drove 5 sweaty, black grease-handed miles to the repair shop. I made it to the hall where my class is in just enough time to wash most of the grime off my hands and wipe the sweat off my face in the academic building's bathroom.
I walked into class a little tired and uncomfortable, hoping for the best. Within 5 minutes, I was fully absorbed in the class, having forgotten pretty much all the struggle it took to deal with that tire. After class, I went to the library and got the book I had been waiting for. We didn't even get to the chapter from that book in class, go me. So what did this prove to me? Well, just like the most pleasurable of moments, the grueling, arduous moments of a difficult task pass after a short time. So if I can count on that, and stick to it (whatever it may be), I will feel much better in the end, and get the fuel to keep going. I'm not going to be so bold as to claim that if I hadn't pushed myself to run further and longer yesterday morning, I wouldn't have had the perseverance to get to class as I did. I'm just going to say that perhaps in learning to push myself and stay focused something simple, I am also learning to push myself and stay focused in the bigger things. Today is an off day. I plan to get a little work done, and make some homemade chocolate chip cookies as well, prepared for any culinary flat tires that may come up along the way.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Some Tardy Words...On Labor
I don't really do much to celebrate the holidays. Christmas is mostly taken care of by the larger family, the people with the house and the money. The same goes for Thanksgiving and Easter (if people remember when it is). But then you have those in-between holidays, like Memorial Day, Independence Day (both American and Mexican, which, if you live in Chicago, can be celebrated vibrantly on Fullerton near Western), and Labor Day. The latter holiday, while I rarely do anything for it, will always hold a special place in my heart. You see, while I was not alive in 1776, while I didn't fight in any foreign wars, and while I am not Mexican (that I know of), I have spent some time in the Labor sector. Now, don't take this to mean that I consider any of the work that I have done "labor", for I have taken great strides to avoid allowing management to get their money's worth out of me. However, I have gotten to know plenty of people who have been or are now throwing their labor hours feverishly into the market, and have made their living in such a way. Having been in this environment and soaked up the feelings held therein, and also having learned what I have about the pioneering labor advocates of the late 19th and early 20th century, I can say that every first Monday in September reminds me of just how this world keeps its gears going every day.
So I'd like to take this opportunity, on this platform, to say a hearty "thank you" to those who have fought and continue to fight so that workers get a little less of the shaft on a regular basis. The AFL-CIO, the UAW, UBEW, and on, and on. If it weren't for people getting angry and refusing to work until they could afford a meal or two as a result, I'd be searching for jobs that pay below the cost of living, thinking it was all I could do. And the least I could do to celebrate those fiery men and women and their picketting and getting hosed down, is just remind everyone in the blogosphere that there is a reason they get to barbecue, see fireworks, and (if you live in Rockford) pay 15 dollars to pay even more money for fried chocolate rib cakes, and see washed-up bands play music that your parents may or may not have lost their virginity to. As the ubiquitous bumper sticker states so proudly: "Unions: the People Who Brought You the Weekend".
This morning, I forced my sleepy ass out on the road and pushed it to the limit. Perhaps this was rather myopic, as I had spent the weekend cooking and devouring brownies and/or cookies. However, I was quite happy with what I accomplished. I went out hoping to beat my last distance, and just plow through with as little rest as possible. This was not a real plan, so much as a series of hopes and a driving want to punish myself. I figure if it worked for the Obama presidential campaign, it could work for me. Well, it did, kind of. I did just under 30 minutes, amassing 3 miles and only 4 minutes of rest. I went down like this:
Ran 1.25 miles, Walked 0.75 miles, Ran 1 mile
The quest for Thursday: Run a full 5k distance, without one or no walk breaks. I just might be able to do this, depending on how sore I end up feeling tonight. But, as ever, onward....for the workers of the world!!
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Pancakes and Small Failures
I used to be afraid of failing, even of failing a small task. I would get myself so worked up about what I would do if I didn't accomplish exactly what I set out to, if things didn't turn out how I wanted them to. But in most cases, I would end up worrying so much about failure, that I would quit before I was able to fail. Perhaps in the back of my mind, I knew that if I were to just never follow through, I wouldn't have to feel the pain that I was so afraid of. The ironic thing about that is that at the same time I was so afraid of any kind of pain, I was talking to people about how I was a buddhist, and relaying the Zen messages I was reading at the time. Buddhism is a set of teachings that advocates the acceptance of pain and struggle as necessary parts of life, but seeks to minimize how devastating that suffering is by highlighting ways that people can make peace with it. So here I was, preaching about a philosophy of acceptance and making peace, while I would neither accept or make peace with my own life.
These days, I have had to deal with failure as a background of my life. This is not a negative thing, not at all. I found out that while I was busy ditching all the life projects that I undertook, the world remembered that I started and left them, and brought them back for me to face them. I was academically dismissed from graduate school in May of 2008, after a long trip down substance abuse lane, into manic depression-ville. I could have, should have tried to alert someone who could help in the academic realm, but I chose to just stop caring and leave. Now, I have to take 3 or more graduate classes, when I need only one class to get my M.A., and I need to ace all three of those classes in order to get above academic probation level. Will it be hard? No doubt. Will I want to give up? If I know myself and how I think whilst under pressure, absolutely. But the difference between 18 months ago and now is that I am no longer so focused on failure that I refuse to put my full effort into it. Sure, I am afraid of failure, I would be insane not to be. However, I can be afraid of failing but use that fear to motivate me to lay down a plan and follow it, thus hopefully avoiding failure. But if I do put myself all in, and still don't come away on top, I can deal with that, because I have already.
This morning, I tried to make pancakes. Now the last time I made pancakes, they were not bad, but i added too much salt, and Erin said they were kind of gross. The recipe I had was for one person, so I needed to multiply the ingredients to make enough for Erin and I. I figured that it would be a simple enough task, so I just started multiplying and mixing. I didn't exactly follow the recipe, and....it showed. The pancakes were horrible. I couldn't tell you specifically what was wrong with them, but both Erin's face as she attempted to eat them, and the odd looking flapjack now oozing around the pan told enough of the story to close the case. Pancakes are supposed to flap, and these flopped. I was angry at first, knowing that only a foolish woman would let a man attempt to make hotcakes for a third time after almost killing her with the first two attempts. But I remembered, as I took out the trash bag full of past meals and this morning's monstrosity, an old saying I once heard that was attributed to the Dalai Lama: "when you lose, don't lose the lesson". I may have failed, but there was a lesson there, were I willing to learn it: at least when it comes to the pancakes, stick to the recipe.
There is a broader lesson, though, and it applies to the main goal toward which I am working here. Like with the pancakes, I am treading unfamiliar ground in training for a marathon. There is a plan laid out for me, and all I have to do is put away my expectations and worries, and follow it. When I think about it this way, all I have to do is run, the rest is already taken care of. That's so comfortingly simple. But really, that's all you ever have to do. Make a plan, do what the plan says, when it says you should, and don't worry about the rest. I guess if anything, today reminded me of what can happen when you don't follow the plan; flopjacks, or as they're more colloquially known "notcakes".
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Bumping Into History
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I have class. Those are good days. If you would have talked to me 2 years ago, I wouldn't be the least bit excited about class. You see, I started my undergraduate degree at Northern Illinois University in 2001. I graduated with my B.A. in Philosophy in 2005, and entered directly into the graduate program. Then, I kind of hit a wall. In 2007, I had a series of personal hang-ups. There was an unhealthy relationship, substance abuse, alienation, the whole nine. By Fall of 2007, when I should have been done with my M.A. in Philosophy, I had lapsed into oblivion. I had not completed my graduate work in Philosophy, but decided to try my hand at Political Science, as it was also an interest of mine. In an odd "settlement" with the woman I had been dating at that time, we no longer lived together, but were still in a relationship. I found 3 other grad students with which to live, all of whom, like myself, had spent 2 years in the Philosophy department, but started pursuing another Master's Degree in another field. Within the year that I lived with them, I experienced some of the most turbulent times in my life. I had legal troubles, scuffles, arguments, binges, you name it. It all ended with me leaving school and leaving the apartment.
Fast forward 18 months, and I bump into one of the roommates with whom I was suitably close before I moved in with him. After the year ordeal, not so much. As I approached him, I could see that he was a bit hesitant of how I would act. I merely made a few jokes about us being old eternal academics and asked him how he was doing. I asked about his boyfriend (he is gay, now follow along, people) and his future plans. I told him a bit about what I had been through. But somewhere in the middle, I apologized. I let slip a sincere and unequivocal apology for the way I had acted and imposed upon him and the others in our year of cohabitation. He seemed surprised at first, but thanked me, and assured me that if anything, it made for good storytelling. Was it a big thing? No. Did it matter? Absolutely. It's a been a few months since I've really had to be humble. But this encounter reminded me of just how necesarry it is, when you have been where I have, to practice humility. I am still just trying to make it, and I can't pretend not to be. The ex-roommate and I parted ways, and I scuttled off to Metaphysics class, where I learned a bit about identity, kind of. If you wish to be bored by details, send me an email, I can provide you with thrilling class notes. [note: the italics were meant to convey sarcasm for the sake of those reading, I actually do find the metalinguistic analysis of the identity relation enthralling]
The Rundown:
Today, I ran the longest I have run to date. My hamstrings were sore from yesterday, both from running a short 2 mile and from helping my girlfriend (Erin)'s mom rip up the floors in the house she just bought. But I decided to stretch those suckers out and just hit the road. I actually didn't have a plan, as I felt that the scheduled 1/2 mile run (5min) - 1/4 mile walk (3min) - 3/4 mile run (8min) - 1/4mile walk (3min) - 1/2 mile run (5min) was too light.
The following is what I did:
Fast forward 18 months, and I bump into one of the roommates with whom I was suitably close before I moved in with him. After the year ordeal, not so much. As I approached him, I could see that he was a bit hesitant of how I would act. I merely made a few jokes about us being old eternal academics and asked him how he was doing. I asked about his boyfriend (he is gay, now follow along, people) and his future plans. I told him a bit about what I had been through. But somewhere in the middle, I apologized. I let slip a sincere and unequivocal apology for the way I had acted and imposed upon him and the others in our year of cohabitation. He seemed surprised at first, but thanked me, and assured me that if anything, it made for good storytelling. Was it a big thing? No. Did it matter? Absolutely. It's a been a few months since I've really had to be humble. But this encounter reminded me of just how necesarry it is, when you have been where I have, to practice humility. I am still just trying to make it, and I can't pretend not to be. The ex-roommate and I parted ways, and I scuttled off to Metaphysics class, where I learned a bit about identity, kind of. If you wish to be bored by details, send me an email, I can provide you with thrilling class notes. [note: the italics were meant to convey sarcasm for the sake of those reading, I actually do find the metalinguistic analysis of the identity relation enthralling]
The Rundown:
Today, I ran the longest I have run to date. My hamstrings were sore from yesterday, both from running a short 2 mile and from helping my girlfriend (Erin)'s mom rip up the floors in the house she just bought. But I decided to stretch those suckers out and just hit the road. I actually didn't have a plan, as I felt that the scheduled 1/2 mile run (5min) - 1/4 mile walk (3min) - 3/4 mile run (8min) - 1/4mile walk (3min) - 1/2 mile run (5min) was too light.
The following is what I did:
10 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Chapter 1: In Which I Make My Wager....With the Beast
Let me make myself clear; I hate running. I hate it. I get out there, I stretch my legs, I put my head up, I put a foot forward, and sometime a few minutes after that, I collapse in a heap of exhaustion. So, it was a bit odd when, just a few weeks ago, I decided to train for and run in a marathon. Some would say that I have chosen to slay the dragon with nothing but a twig. I would say that would be charitable to me. Perhaps it is my newfound desire to do that which makes me uncomfortable, or that which will take strenuous effort to accomplish, which is pushing me to take on this journey. Perhaps it is a latent need that I have to attain success in the realm which few have tread, to do that "other thing", which is pulling me to push myself. Most likely, it is the fact that up until this point in my life, I have not had to push myself very far at all, which is making it urgent that I do this now.
So I made my decision, I crawled up to the hill, I dragged my twig behind me and stood outside the dragon's lair. I lifted up my too-large helmet and yelled at the beast, whose eyes I could barely see through the dense darkness of his cave, and I yelled to him; "within one year of today, I will come back here and slay you". I turned around and ran, not allowing to hear whether or not he laughed at my arrogance. "What hubris!" I imagined him saying "How cocky he must be, with just that twig and that small, puny, human frame, to think that he could best me!". Perhaps he said this, perhaps he didn't, but either way, I took it as my wager with the beast. I wager that I can defeat him, and he wagers that I cannot. Our ante; our respective lives.
I invite you to come with me, to read my entries as I construct a plan and (hopefully) execute it. Yes, within the next 365 days, I will run (and finish) a marathon. From now until next September, I will document my quest to surpass the visible limits, both physical and mental. This is about more than just a marathon, it is about life. It is about me setting small goals to reach the bigger one, taking stock of my weaknesses, and overcoming them, facing pain and exhaustion, and pushing on. Simply, it is about constantly moving, until the end, until there is no more. I don't claim to be unique in this quest, for I am merely describing life, and the way which, from here onward, I plan to live it.
GO!!!
So I made my decision, I crawled up to the hill, I dragged my twig behind me and stood outside the dragon's lair. I lifted up my too-large helmet and yelled at the beast, whose eyes I could barely see through the dense darkness of his cave, and I yelled to him; "within one year of today, I will come back here and slay you". I turned around and ran, not allowing to hear whether or not he laughed at my arrogance. "What hubris!" I imagined him saying "How cocky he must be, with just that twig and that small, puny, human frame, to think that he could best me!". Perhaps he said this, perhaps he didn't, but either way, I took it as my wager with the beast. I wager that I can defeat him, and he wagers that I cannot. Our ante; our respective lives.
I invite you to come with me, to read my entries as I construct a plan and (hopefully) execute it. Yes, within the next 365 days, I will run (and finish) a marathon. From now until next September, I will document my quest to surpass the visible limits, both physical and mental. This is about more than just a marathon, it is about life. It is about me setting small goals to reach the bigger one, taking stock of my weaknesses, and overcoming them, facing pain and exhaustion, and pushing on. Simply, it is about constantly moving, until the end, until there is no more. I don't claim to be unique in this quest, for I am merely describing life, and the way which, from here onward, I plan to live it.
GO!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
