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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!!

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".

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:

10 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run - 2 min walk - 5 min run 

The total was just over 2.64 miles. Woooo.

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!!!