Running lessons: Practicing patience

Week one of my "Return to Running" went reasonably well - at least, until this morning, when I awoke to torrential rain and couldn't quite persuade myself to suck it up and go running anyway, though I knew I'd probably enjoy it if I did. 

The forecast says the rain should let up around suppertime so I'm hoping to hit the road later, but it may not happen. Husband's been away visiting family in Ontario for the better part of two weeks and is due to arrive home any minute now. I won't want to head out for a run too soon after he gets in, but may be able to squeeze in 5 or 6 kms before supper. If not, I'll do it tomorrow morning instead.

None of my runs this week felt great but that's to be expected. Each time I started to feel discouraged, I reminded myself to "practice my patience", as my nephew used to say. Experience has taught me that even a few weeks of regular training make running feel more natural. I just need to be patient and trust the process.

In other news, the wind and rain over the past week brought down most of the remaining leaves, though there are still occasional splashes of colour to be savoured along the way. And I love the dry swish and scent of fallen leaves almost as much. Autumn really is the best time of year for running.

Here's another image from our visit to Keji a couple of weeks ago. Next October, I'd like to spend a week there exploring the park's wonderful network of trails. It's a spectacular spot. 

Running lessons: Hold on to hope

In the face of the ugly spectacle unfolding south of the border, not to mention news that climate change is happening faster than anyone predicted and species are going extinct at unprecedented rates, I find it hard to be optimistic these days. I hope I'm wrong but my gut tells me we'll be facing some pretty grim realities in as little as a decade or two. The track we're currently on leads leads more or less directly to an Atwood-esque dystopia.

On the days I feel most pessimistic, I remind myself that - as my dear father-in-law often said - "despair is a sin". Positive change can only happen when people have enough optimism to take action. Put another way, people need to believe positive change is possible to make it happen.

But too much optimism can be a problem too - at least when it becomes an excuse for inaction. Maybe humankind will find solutions for the serious environmental challenges facing us but that doesn't mean we shouldn't each be doing what we can now to walk more lightly on the planet. 

I get why some people don't see it that way. After all, many of us are at a point in our lives where we only expect to live 15-20 years anyway so we don't see ourselves at significant personal risk. But what about younger people? You know, our kids and grand-kids? How will we justify our actions to them in a few years. "Yes, I know I didn't need to drive a series of ridiculous gas-guzzling vehicles, or fly halfway round the world for a vacations, or buy the newest versions of everything, but I worked hard to have those things and I deserve them."

"Deserve". How I hate that word. It appears in my Facebook newsfeed regularly as friends encourage one another to be self-indulgent. "Glad you're having such a great vacation, honey. You deserve it. Of course you should have that snazzy new car. You deserve it." Really? Last time I checked, "deserve" meant you'd done something to earn what you have. The reality is that most of what we Canadians enjoy we got just by being lucky enough to be born in the right place and time. If we'd been born in India or Nigeria or Papua New Guinea instead, chances are our lives would be very different.

No, I don't think the next generation is going to be too impressed with our assertions that we "deserved" to ignore the health of the environment and future generations to satisfy our horrifying addiction to over-consumption.

I know I sound angry. I am angry. And discouraged. There's a big part of me that sometimes wishes we humans wipe ourselves out sooner rather than later so that other creatures on this planet have a fighting chance to survive whatever awaits. In my darkest moments, I wonder why I don't just belly up to the trough myself and take what I can before all is lost.

I don't because I know that, if and when the worst happens, I want to be able to look into my nieces and nephews' eyes and tell them I did what I could to prevent it - that I valued their lives and futures as much as my own. Call me naive, but I think it's the least I can do. 

How does that relate to running and hope, you ask? Well, as dark and depressing as my thoughts are some days, I know the only way through is to hold on to hope - the kind of hope that energizes me to pay attention, believe better is possible, and work for change. Running helps with that by getting me out of my head and into the natural world, where I'm regularly reminded of the wondrous beauty and diversity of this little blue planet and the critters - including we humans - that inhabit it. They (we) truly are worth fighting for. 

The photos I've included in this post are from a recent outing to Kejimkujik Park - a good place to be reminded of just how beautiful our planet still is - particularly in autumn.

Camper Adventures: Annapolis Royal Reflections

We spent a lot of time in our camper over the summer, visiting parts of Nova Scotia we'd not visited in a years. Our goals were three-fold: To identify any remaining mechanical or other issues with the camper, which we bought second-hand last fall; to get more comfortable with RVing, in particular boondocking (i.e. camping in public spaces without services); and to explore less populated areas of the province to see if we could maybe find a piece of land near the ocean to buy. 

Those who live in Nova Scotia will remember we had a fairly significant lockdown in the spring when covid infection numbers increased dramatically so our first camper outing didn't happen until early June, when we headed to Risser's Beach for a couple of days. (More on camping at Risser's in a future post.) Soon after, we reloaded the camper and headed to Annapolis Royal for our first road trip. 

Our original plan was to spend a day or two in the town, and another day or two hiking trails nearby. Once there, however, we realized we had an issue with our front tires so opted not to travel off the beaten track and spent the better part of three days in and around town instead.

One thing I've discovered is how difficult it is to find time for photography when we're traveling. There always seems to be too much else to do. I did, however, manage to break out my camera a few times on this trip. 

The first opportunity came when, after exploring the area around Annapolis Royal in the afternoon, we settled into a parking spot on the waterfront for the night. A big advantage of traveling in such a small RV is that it doesn't take up much more space than a large pickup truck so we can camp pretty much anywhere. In this case, we stopped in a public parking spot just across the street from a museum that was closed because of the pandemic, snuggling in just in time to watch the sunset while we had supper. 

The sunset was something of a disappointment as it turned out, but I loved the warm light on the wharf, which I photographed from the shoreline just behind where we parked. 

The next morning, I got up early and went for a photowalk. The weather was gorgeous for early June and there was almost no one on the streets - at least until a group of geriatric yogis gathered for a class on the wharf. As you can see from these photos, it was a perfect morning to grab some reflection shots.

Granville Ferry, a picturesque village just across the harbour

After wandering around town for a bit, we headed to Founders House, a local restaurant friends had been raving about, for a celebratory lunch belatedly marking our 31st wedding anniversary. What a treat! I didn't take any photos of the meal so you'll just have to take my word for it. If you find yourself in Annapolis Royal, do yourself a favour and go! The food, drinks and service were all terrific. 

After lunch, we headed to the Historic Gardens, which we'd never visited. I took my camera along but didn't get many photos I was happy with. The light was too harsh. However, we both really enjoyed exploring the gardens - particularly the heritage vegetable and rose gardens. I was quite enamoured with the water lilies as well. 

That evening, we parked near the town's old railway station for the night to avoid being in the way Saturday morning, when we expected downtown to be busier on account of the Farmer's Market, and spent a pleasant evening eating supper and playing cards until it was time to turn in for the night. 

Before leaving on Saturday, we stopped by the market and visited a few local galleries, before taking one last walk along the waterfront - dreaming about a longer trip to Annapolis Royal next summer, when we hope to visit more sites and go hiking as we planned. The town may be tiny but there's plenty to keep a visitor busy for three or four days at least. 

Running Lessons: Musing about motivation

As promised, I'm writing today to report back on yesterday's run. It was fine. Not awesome, but not bad, considering. And the weather couldn't have been better - dry, mostly sunny and cool. My time was nothing to brag about. It took me almost 48 minutes to cover 5.5 kms - but in my defence I stopped to take pictures  a half a dozen times. I also took occasional walk breaks - though fewer than I usually do. All in all, not a bad effort.

While I was out, I thought a lot about what's motivated me to run in the past and what might motivate me in future. Over the years, I relied heavily on running to get me through tough emotional times. And raising money for causes I believed was hugely motivating. I've never been strong or fast enough to be truly competitive, but I enjoyed participating in races and collecting t-shirts and other bling. 

When I think back over my running career, the thing that stands out most is how fearless I felt when I was training regularly. I'd head out on trail runs by myself, miles from anywhere - even in winter - and run through the city alone after dark. Friends who warned me it wasn't safe were met with a cheery "no worries, the bad guys have to catch me first". 

My fearlessness wasn't as irrational as it sounds. The fact is I was in excellent shape and had terrific balance so rarely stumbled. I also made a point of not wearing headphones so I could stay tuned into my surroundings, and kept a sharp eye out for potential hazards. I can't think of a single time I felt really vulnerable on my runs through the city after dark, though I do remember wondering about the wisdom of some of my longest winter trail runs.

The question is what's my motivation now? It's hard to imagine I'll ever regain the level of fitness that enabled me to feel so fearless again - though I'd certainly like to try - and I've little interest in racing or fundraising.

Maybe it's as simple as this: I want to continue thinking of myself as a runner, as someone who makes the effort to stay in shape even as she ages, and is mentally and emotionally strong enough to bear the discomfort of taking on various physical challenges.

I once had a massage therapist who said he liked treating runners because they had a high tolerance for pain. I laughed about it then but he wasn't wrong. Anyone who's run distance knows the real limits on endurance are more mental and emotional than physical. Our minds often give up far more quickly than our bodies.

Whatever my motivation, it's clear I need a plan. To start with, I'll try to get back to running 3 or 4 times a week, and practicing yoga more regularly. I may have to hire a trainer and/or join a local gym as well. I've lost a lot of muscle mass over the past year or two, and the last thing I need is get injured before I've made any real progress. A trainer would help keep me accountable too. The tricky bit will be finding someone who knows about training older women's bodies. 

That's it for today. I'll sign off with a few photos from an outing to Keji Seaside with friends back in April. Access to the far end of the beach is restricted in summer so we were thrilled we could visit on such a glorious day before restrictions came into effect. How lucky we are we to have such wild and beautiful places nearby?

Running lessons: Just Start

Good morning, blogger friends. Here I am checking in at last after another long silence. What can I say? It was a incredibly busy summer and I was rarely home long enough to do laundry - let alone blog. 

However, Hubbie's on the road this week and I'm determined to use some of this precious alone time to get writing again. 

As it turns out, that's easier said than done. He's been gone four days, and this is the first time I've even attempted to write. There always seems to be something more important - or at least more pressing - to do, surrounded as I am by unfinished household projects.

You'd think after 18 months of pandemic restrictions, every last project would be done by now, but no. Partly because we keep launching new ones, but mostly because it's been hard to stay focused. 

In the early days of the pandemic, I was totally obsessed with learning all I could about the virus and how to keep those I care about safe, and then there was the horrific mass killing incident that started in Portapique, and then the US election sideshow, and then a worrying outbreak and lockdown, and finally it was time to hit the road in our camper. Oh - and somewhere in there - I spent 8 months serving on the very dysfunctional board of directors for our local credit union before resigning in frustration. (As an aside, the rest of the board resigned soon after and the regulator stepped in to replace the CEO so I suppose it wasn't a complete waste of time but it sure felt like it.) So - yeah - I've been distracted. 

My fear now is that, as restrictions slowly lift, I'll be completely overwhelmed and the remaining projects will never get done. 

Which is why I'd like to get back to blogging. This was the place I used to go to figure stuff out, set priorities, and give myself the pep talks I needed to stay on track. Most importantly, it was the place I nurtured my motivation to keep running.

Running. That's another story. It's been almost 20 years since I took up running and I loved it so much I was sure  I'd never give it up and yet here I am - 10 pounds overweight and in terrible running shape, struggling to find the motivation to tackle 5 kms to town and back. 

With my 60th birthday just around the corner, it's easy to tell myself it doesn't matter - that I don't really want to run anymore - but in my heart of hearts I know that's not true. I still want to run. I'm just scared to try in case I can't. 

The answer of course is to just start. Don't think about it. Just lace up my shoes and get my butt out the door. Take walk breaks. Run slowly. Track my progress, celebrate every success and trust the process. Chances are my body's up to the challenge so long as I pace myself properly, eat sensibly, and get enough sleep. After all, it wasn't that long ago I finished a 13k leg of the 2021 Virtual Cabot Trail Relay. And I haven't been sitting around all summer - I've been walking and hiking lots, and biking occasionally. 

So, off I go. I'll be back tomorrow with a report on how it went. In the meantime, here are a few pics from our summer camper adventures. More on those in the weeks ahead. 

Morning sun at Tor Bay Provincial Park

Late afternoon at Five Islands

Sunrise at Gilbert's Cove Lighthouse

Our camping spot on Bartlett's Beach

Walking on the ocean floor at Burntcoat Head