- 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).
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):
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.
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