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?
I think if I could run on a beach, an actual real ocean beach, not just a gravel bar on a river, I'd still be out there regularly.
ReplyDeleteThe fearless thing, yeah, I had that on my bike for a while. Back then I was all yeehaw going downhill at more than 80 KPH, and MEGA-YEHAW at more than 90, and all I could think of in more recent years is the result of a twitch, or a chunk of rock or wood, or an animal out of the bush, or any number of other events.
I never had a problem running alone, any time of the year, even at night, on dark paths, along the river, where ever. But people knew where I was, and I had a phone. It's a sad commentary on our society that I would tell any woman that running alone was a really bad idea, that a running buddy was even more important than a good bra and pair of shoes.