Skip to main content

13.1

I have often said I have only two strengths as a runner:

1. I don't injure easily.
2. I like to run.

That second one is probably the single most important reason I can think of to run. It has driven me since my childhood (in spite of the fact that I am not a gifted runner), and it is driving me now.

In 2001 I completed two marathons. Those races brought me both disappointment and satisfaction (both stories for another day), but what has stayed with me more than the marathons themselves, is the training. Much to my surprise, I found that I really love long runs. The 10 to 20 milers that are part of marathon training have a place in my memory, and, more than likely, in my imagination, that continues to draw me back in time to those days. I completed most of those runs with no one to talk to, no Ipod, no GPS device to tell me my time (just an old-fashioned wristwatch). I was surprised to find that I could settle into a pace and maintain it with astounding consistency, often running every mile within a second or two of the same pace--until I sped up at the end for some negative splits. The long runs have called to me over the last decade, like an old friend longing for an overdue visit.

Various obstacles have kept me from running those long runs for many years: a pulmonary embolism, the overwhelming schedule of my job, and, most recently, pain and fatigue associated with rheumatoid arthritis. But now, with the blessing of my doctors, I have been given the green light to train for another long race.

A decade ago I skipped from 10k directly to full marathon. That probably wasn't the best idea, although I don't really regret it. I have, however, regretted never trying the half-marathon. It is a distance that has intrigued me for many years. And so, I have made the commitment. I have picked the race (Famous Potato, May 19th), I have registered, and I have begun to run.

This is not a journey that fills me with confidence. On the contrary, I find myself filled with doubts about my ability to live up to the commitment. I am not sure I can consistently train during research-paper grading season and AP test prep. I am not sure how my ten-years-older body is going to respond. Basically, I am not sure my ability is equal to my desire. Nonetheless, I am ready to look failure in the face. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find success staring back at me.


Comments

  1. Replies
    1. I'm glad you're confident, Mac. I'll let you know when I need a pep talk.

      Delete
  2. Hooray for half-marothons and hooray for doctors giving green lights! So excited for you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, my friend. Watching your amazing journey--and particularly watching you become a runner definitely inspired me to get moving again. I may need a pep talk from you too!

      Delete
  3. P.S. I could read your writing all day.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

On This Day

It was a very busy, long morning. I had back-to-back-to-back conferences with kids and parents and my principal that filled every break. Still, classes went mostly well, and I felt like I sort of knew how to teach. Then I went to cnn.com just as lunch was starting--just 5 minutes to spare before I had to meet parents. Wow. Just wow. I struggled to keep myself together. I didn't want to be crying when I met with the parents. But children--little children--shot and killed . . . . The parents were lovely, by the way, asking great questions about their son and telling me how much he likes my class, which really surprised them, because he's a math/science guy. Turns out he thinks I'm funny. I went straight to the church after work to continue working on our Christmas program. It's a huge undertaking, and I don't know how anyone could do it alone. I left feeling grateful for many hands and heads that make light work. And then I went to the Hungry Onion

Believe in Your Seed

Twenty-five years ago, she was a student in my 10th-grade English class in Kellogg, a small mining town in Idaho’s panhandle. Now, she is an educator herself  — an elementary teacher in the same large district where I teach high school English. And today, she stood in front 3000 employees of the Boise School District and delivered a keynote address. Her speech was, to say the least, inspiring. It was expertly crafted — full of story, wit, insight, and charm. Her delivery was seamless, vivid, funny, and, quite frankly, better than any such talk I have heard in 31 years of opening meetings. (I say this as someone who is particularly passionate about public speaking. In fact, public speaking has become one of my greatest passions — both as a teacher who helps students craft presentations, and as someone who dreams of doing exactly what Sonia Galaviz did today.) As she spoke, I experienced her speech on several levels. I was the veteran teacher inspired by a somewhat younger t

Love: the Ultimate Pedagogy

I did not intend to love them; I did not particularly want to love them. I was never the bright-eyed rookie teacher out to change the world, one student at a time. I thought my job was to do the serious work of scholarship and academia. I was a professional — a high school English teacher. I was Miss Roberts, not your cookie-baking, kid-loving aunt.  But against my will and what I thought was my better judgment, I began to discover that I did love my students. At first I thought it was a surprising, pleasant side-effect of hanging out with the same people every week for nine months, but I did not consider it a valuable part of teaching. It seemed too flaky, too silly to even say out loud. The pivot point came after I changed schools, 15 years into my career. I loved my first job at Kellogg High School, my beloved hometown, but for a variety of reasons, in year 16 I made the move to the big city of Boise, 400 miles away. The transition was excruciating. I might as well have been