I'm a big fan of Sunday mornings. There is usually no street noise so I wake up when my body tells me I've had enough sleep, not when some big truck beep-beeps it's backup alarm or when my own bedside alarm rouses me. Even though I tell myself I can sleep late, I'm almost always awake by 7.
I'm practically forced to move slow on Sundays. Most stores don't open until around noon. My best friend isn't an early riser so even if we have something planned for the day, I know it won't be until late morning or on into the afternoon. When I started exercising again, I made Sunday my LongWalk day. I'd take my camera and stop for whatever caught my eye.
Now that I'm running again, I use Sundays as my SlowRun day. I no longer take my camera along but I try to run at a slower pace and I intentionally set out to get the most from my run. (During the week, I'm just trying to cover the miles/minutes, get them done and get to work by 7:30.)
By "get the most" I mean I try to fit a lot into the run without stressing about it. I start off by paying attention to how my body really FEELS. Am I sore in one particular area? Are my shoulders too tight? How does my stride feel? I take the time to shake out my upper extremities, to adjust my steps. Giving the start of my run a few minutes for body mechanics has helped me build endurance and makes for a more pleasant experience. Going through that little check allows me to let go of the feeling that exercise is work/hard/painful/a hassle and then I can move on in a state of relaxation, listening to a podcast, taking in the view around me, or exchanging "good mornings" with the people I meet on the road.
For over a year, Sunday mornings were particularly painful for me. My dad and I had a ritual of me calling him and we'd catch up on the week. I waited until after 10am to call because he was in California. We often talked during the week (if some issue came up), but Sunday was for chatting, for advising, for letting each other know that we had time to spare for each other. After he died, I missed those phone calls as much as I missed anything else - maybe more than anything else. So many hours of our relationship were poured into those Sunday mornings. The quiet of not speaking to him was dreadful.
I endured quite a few months of painful, sorrowful Sundays.
I'm not sure when I moved out of dreading Sundays and into appreciating them again. I only know that I moved. I give credit to my camera, my running shoes, and also to allowing myself to Feel. More than anything - to allowing myself to Feel. At some point, I checked in with myself, made an assessment and decided that life is (at times) work/hard/painful/a hassle and I moved on.
It's nice to know that once the Sunday run is done I can also move on with the remainder of the day at whatever pace I choose. I can do as little or as much as I want. In my own time. (I need to remember this the next time I complain about being single.)
Here's to the Sunday of your choosing, whether it be active, quiet, calm, restful...whatever. I'm still on track, still moving, and I appreciate the words of support I get here. If you're stuck, consider checking in with yourself. It can be the most painful/wonderful/rewarding way to move on that you can ever imagine. I highly recommend it. With feeling.
©Michelle Scofield, July 29, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Back Home and Running on Full
Back from vacation in the Big Easy. I've been a visitor to New Orleans many times and now that I'm learning my way around I understand how time can stand still and relaxation can settle down on me...if I let it.
Several times last weekend I realized that time was standing still. I had no where I had to be, nothing I had to do, and the clock didn't seem to be moving. There was no rush, no hassle, no worries. Aaaaahhhh.
I listened to great music. I shared fantastic meals with people I love (part of the goodness of knowing my way around is knowing what to avoid). I took dozens of photographs while walking by myself through the French Quarter early in the morning. I sat on a bar stool next to my best friend and experienced a little more of his world than he's ever shared with me before.
I played roulette and I won more than I lost.
Caught in a rainstorm, I waded through puddles and laughed with strangers as we navigated our way through the city.
The highlight of my trip was a 4 mile run along the lakefront with my son. 30 pounds ago it never would have happened. We shared 45 minutes as athletes, family, friends. We talked some and gave each other advice and we also ran in silence as we shared the beauty of a Sunday morning with nothing but the sounds of our footfalls to keep us company.
Bliss, I tell you. Bliss.
©Michelle Scofield, July 25, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Several times last weekend I realized that time was standing still. I had no where I had to be, nothing I had to do, and the clock didn't seem to be moving. There was no rush, no hassle, no worries. Aaaaahhhh.
I listened to great music. I shared fantastic meals with people I love (part of the goodness of knowing my way around is knowing what to avoid). I took dozens of photographs while walking by myself through the French Quarter early in the morning. I sat on a bar stool next to my best friend and experienced a little more of his world than he's ever shared with me before.
I played roulette and I won more than I lost.
Caught in a rainstorm, I waded through puddles and laughed with strangers as we navigated our way through the city.
The highlight of my trip was a 4 mile run along the lakefront with my son. 30 pounds ago it never would have happened. We shared 45 minutes as athletes, family, friends. We talked some and gave each other advice and we also ran in silence as we shared the beauty of a Sunday morning with nothing but the sounds of our footfalls to keep us company.
Bliss, I tell you. Bliss.
©Michelle Scofield, July 25, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Priorities
I bought a new pair of shoes. Asics Gel Nimbus. It was, I think, my 6th or 7th pair of the same shoe. Except it wasn't the same shoe. Asics "improved" it. Asics does that a lot. I immediately developed a massive blister at the back of my right heel. I searched through my sock drawer for the answer. My sock drawer has about 12 different kinds of socks and is overflowing. Nothing worked. I wore band aids. I wore band aids ON band aids. I used Moleskin. I bought new and better socks - forcing me to throw out some of the old ones, not such a bad thing. I bought insoles for the shoes. All that did was give me a matching blister on the left heel. Nope, the new and improved Gel Nimbus was a bust.
I boxed the shoes up and took them back to Academy. No receipt. I had my credit card statement, just in case. Turns out I didn't need it. The shoe department manager wanted to keep my business. After hearing my story she decided the shoe must be defective and told me to pick out a different pair. I picked out a different pair but I went further than that. I picked out a different brand. I tried on about 5 different shoes that afternoon and settled on Nike Shox Roadsters. You've seen them before. They have the silly looking springy things at the heels. I always thought they were just a gimmick. Whatever. That afternoon they felt wonderful and I've loved them ever since.
I started thinking about how much I love these shoes and how many miles I'll put on between now and the Chevron Marathon in January. I'll need another pair. What if Nike "improves" them? Oh, hell no! For the price of two dinners out (which I'm hardly EVER doing anymore), I can buy another pair of shoes. Done.
This morning I put the first 3 miles on pair number 2. I ran 3 miles and I wasn't even aware of my shoes. This is what it's supposed to be feel like. My feet are H.A.P.P.Y.
I boxed the shoes up and took them back to Academy. No receipt. I had my credit card statement, just in case. Turns out I didn't need it. The shoe department manager wanted to keep my business. After hearing my story she decided the shoe must be defective and told me to pick out a different pair. I picked out a different pair but I went further than that. I picked out a different brand. I tried on about 5 different shoes that afternoon and settled on Nike Shox Roadsters. You've seen them before. They have the silly looking springy things at the heels. I always thought they were just a gimmick. Whatever. That afternoon they felt wonderful and I've loved them ever since.
I started thinking about how much I love these shoes and how many miles I'll put on between now and the Chevron Marathon in January. I'll need another pair. What if Nike "improves" them? Oh, hell no! For the price of two dinners out (which I'm hardly EVER doing anymore), I can buy another pair of shoes. Done.
This morning I put the first 3 miles on pair number 2. I ran 3 miles and I wasn't even aware of my shoes. This is what it's supposed to be feel like. My feet are H.A.P.P.Y.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Who was/am she/I?
I never buy race photos. Today I broke my NeverRule. I took a look at the pics from last Wednesday's run and then out of morbid (obesity) curiosity clicked on the link to last year's photos. I needed to see that. I needed to see me at that weight. I also looked up my time for the run. Wait, who am I kidding? I walked most of those 5 kilometers back on July 4, 2011.
This morning I ran 5 miles. Ran. Them. If I don't run them I'll say it. I can't afford to lie to myself anymore. A picture says a thousand words. Two pictures say more.
2011: I love her but I kind of want to leave her behind. She was a sad, sad woman.
This morning I ran 5 miles. Ran. Them. If I don't run them I'll say it. I can't afford to lie to myself anymore. A picture says a thousand words. Two pictures say more.
2011: I love her but I kind of want to leave her behind. She was a sad, sad woman.
2012: I love her more. I feel like I'm just getting to know her. She rocks!
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
What? Me, Tired?
Today I ran in a 5K race for the first time in a very long time. I think the last one was a year ago. I can't really remember.
I didn't exactly stress over this run. I'd been up all night - literally. My downstairs neighbors blasted their stereo enough to rattle my floor and walls and bed and I'd talked with a couple of police officers, as had other neighbors. This whole end of the complex has been up all night. The whole thing came to a kind of climax when they apparently broke into the place. It was quiet after that but by that time it was almost 5am. I wavered. Sleep or stay up and get ready for my planned race? I fixed a piece of toast and an egg. I read some email. I took a shower. I drove to the park.
I started off at the very back of the pack because I didn't get into line for the restroom until 15 minutes before the race began. I'd been hanging out, watching the crowd. I took a couple pictures of the full moon. I was a little daydreamy. I realized it was almost race time and then I just wasn't as freaked out as I used to be.
So I was walking toward the start line and I heard the gun. Wow. The race was starting without me. So...I had a chip on my shoe. It's not as if I'm racing against anyone but myself. I quickened my pace a little and almost smacked into a group of walkers. The walk didn't start until 8:15. Why were the walkers in with the runners? Why did I care? I just laughed to myself and decided to deal with it. I walked along with them until we got to the actual chip reader at the start line and then I skipped/hopped/danced my way quickly to as clear a path as I could find for the next few blocks.
As a 5 a.m. runner, I didn't find the morning sun to be my friend. The final mile was uphill but much of it - thankfully - was in the shade. When I saw the grove of trees we were entering, out loud I said (gasped?), "Shade!" A young man laughed out loud. I said, "Hey, I run in the dark. I won't EVEN pull the age card." He laughed again and said, "You're looking good. Keep going, old lady!" Ha! I'll tell you this: At that very moment I was beginning to flag. I got my second wind and I pushed on. Not only did I finish, I finished ahead of him.
Believe it or not, my Runkeeper app says that I managed to run a 9:49 pace for the 5K. The official times won't be posted for a couple days. I think the overhead clock at the finish read 32 something when I crossed. That seems about right. If my chiptime is what I think it is, I'll be closer to 30:00, maybe even sub30. That would be awesome.
So speed isn't my strong suit. Apparently endurance might be if being able to get up and run on no sleep is any evidence of the same. I don't ever want to try it again. I'm about to hit the shower and then take a power nap. I have plans for this holiday and I'm not going to let a little thing like fatigue stand in my way.
©Michelle Scofield, July 4, 2012 All Rights Reserved
I didn't exactly stress over this run. I'd been up all night - literally. My downstairs neighbors blasted their stereo enough to rattle my floor and walls and bed and I'd talked with a couple of police officers, as had other neighbors. This whole end of the complex has been up all night. The whole thing came to a kind of climax when they apparently broke into the place. It was quiet after that but by that time it was almost 5am. I wavered. Sleep or stay up and get ready for my planned race? I fixed a piece of toast and an egg. I read some email. I took a shower. I drove to the park.
I started off at the very back of the pack because I didn't get into line for the restroom until 15 minutes before the race began. I'd been hanging out, watching the crowd. I took a couple pictures of the full moon. I was a little daydreamy. I realized it was almost race time and then I just wasn't as freaked out as I used to be.
So I was walking toward the start line and I heard the gun. Wow. The race was starting without me. So...I had a chip on my shoe. It's not as if I'm racing against anyone but myself. I quickened my pace a little and almost smacked into a group of walkers. The walk didn't start until 8:15. Why were the walkers in with the runners? Why did I care? I just laughed to myself and decided to deal with it. I walked along with them until we got to the actual chip reader at the start line and then I skipped/hopped/danced my way quickly to as clear a path as I could find for the next few blocks.
As a 5 a.m. runner, I didn't find the morning sun to be my friend. The final mile was uphill but much of it - thankfully - was in the shade. When I saw the grove of trees we were entering, out loud I said (gasped?), "Shade!" A young man laughed out loud. I said, "Hey, I run in the dark. I won't EVEN pull the age card." He laughed again and said, "You're looking good. Keep going, old lady!" Ha! I'll tell you this: At that very moment I was beginning to flag. I got my second wind and I pushed on. Not only did I finish, I finished ahead of him.
Believe it or not, my Runkeeper app says that I managed to run a 9:49 pace for the 5K. The official times won't be posted for a couple days. I think the overhead clock at the finish read 32 something when I crossed. That seems about right. If my chiptime is what I think it is, I'll be closer to 30:00, maybe even sub30. That would be awesome.
So speed isn't my strong suit. Apparently endurance might be if being able to get up and run on no sleep is any evidence of the same. I don't ever want to try it again. I'm about to hit the shower and then take a power nap. I have plans for this holiday and I'm not going to let a little thing like fatigue stand in my way.
©Michelle Scofield, July 4, 2012 All Rights Reserved
Sunday, July 1, 2012
New Normal
I rolled over and realized I'd managed to sleep in. It was 6:30 AM on Sunday. My former self would have shuffled to the bathroom and shuffled back to bed with visions of a croissant and a hot cup of coffee in my head, wondering when the bakery across the street would be open and wondering if I could get away with a ballcap or if I should fix my hair. I wasn't likely to meet up with anyone I knew, right? And what if I did? Would they even notice me?
The new me stretched my toes and my calves. I rolled my ankles. I pulled my knees to my chest and took a few deep breaths, moving the morning air as deep into my chest as I could and then slowly exhaling it all the way out, letting my belly expand in the reverse.
I sat up, took about 5 minutes to get dressed and brush my teeth and I was out the door.
My run is done for the day. I've had a bowl of high fiber cereal and some skim milk. I'm drinking my coffee as I write this. I'll finish off my second ginormous glass of water in a couple of minutes.
I just wanted to take a few minutes to connect with anyone who might be thinking that their situation might be hopeless. I was so far deep into the pits of despair a few months ago I didn't know if I'd ever get out. For some reason, something buried within me told me to start moving again. I know that I'll be working to keep my embers burning. It's a daily fight but the battles are starting to feel less like a struggle and more like, well...living.
We all have a spark. I live in daily gratitude that mine didn't go out. If you're wondering whether or not you do, I believe that yes - ABSOLUTELY, yes!!! Only you know where or what it is.
©Michelle Scofield, July 1, 2012 All Rights Reserved
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