I've had this song stuck in my head for weeks now. If you're as in tune with the electronica Britpop scene as I am, then you've most assuredly heard Frou Frou's "Let Go". I love this song, and it's a staple on my long run playlist. But why has it been haunting my mind for what seems like eternity? Have I, in an endorphin altered state of mind, subconsciously internalized the lyrics in response to the goings-on in my life? And maybe not even my life, but a few of my friends?
So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown
So, let go, let go
Just get in
Oh, it's so amazing here
It's all right
'cause there's beauty in the breakdown
It's as if the singer is imploring the listener to be present, engaged in the moment. So often, society encourages us to evade our feelings, lulling us into complacency. This is our life! It's okay to be sad, it's okay to feel pain. If we don't fully embrace the discomfort, then how can we truly appreciate the joy and triumph of overcoming?
I think runners get it. No logical person goes into a 20 mile run expecting to not feel pain, mental and physical. Some would argue that no logical person would run 20 miles...but I digress. For as miserable as it can get when you've been on your feet for two hours, it gets just a little bit worse when you face the fact that you still have at least another hour to go. This is my favorite part of the run. I'm not the fastest, but I'm really good at suffering. Because I know what comes after the suffering. It's the high. It's when you notice the sun glinting off the dewy grass, the wind cooling your sweat-soaked brow, your stride so sure, you feel as if you could take flight at any moment. I've never done elicit drugs, but I'm fairly certain nothing can make me feel as good as I feel when I've reached this part of my runs.
The parallel between running and everyday life is so obvious to me that I have a hard time conveying this to others. The inevitable hard times in life happen to make us better. Let's try not to shirk from reality. Allow yourself to feel, to heal, to grow. There IS beauty in the breakdown.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
The theory of relativity.
What defines someone as having achieved greatness? Is it winning the Western States 100, one of the most renowned ultra marathons in the country, seven consecutive years? Is it running 50 marathons in 50 days? Still not impressed? How about running from California to Key West? While I find each of these seemingly super-human feats of athletic prowess awe-inspiring, is it the mere act that makes each of these runner great? I think we can all concede that Scott Jurek, Dean Karnazes, and John Pyle are great runners. And if you don't know these names, google them. I'll wait.
Ok. Since you obviously now agree with me, we can continue.
To someone who runs 30 miles as a warm up, is running 100 all that extraordinary? Not really. Now, I am by no means implying that running 100 miles isn't special, but isn't that 100 mile run equatable to a 5k for someone who has never been a runner? Unequivocally, yes. I find the non-runner who decides to do a couch to 5k program as equally motivational as a Scott Jurek. Running 50 miles is relatively easy when you've already ran one. It's that first mile that's the challenge. This weekend, I ran in an 11 mile mud-filled obstacle race called Tough Mudder with my husband and some friends. My brother-in-law kept pace with a few of us self-proclaimed endurance junkies, only to find out around mile 8 that the furthest he had previously ran was about a mile or so (he wasn't really sure). Our other friend had never done anything like it before either. And he's a big guy, making the course more challenging. His tenacity made the spectators and other competitors take note. By the end of the race, random strangers were coming up to him and shaking his hand, telling him how inspiring he was. I am so blessed to have people like these in my life.
The part that I find most encouraging about the greats of our sport is that many of them find their stride later in life, usually due to a midlife crisis or the like. They don't have some storied carrier of racing dating back to their prepubescent years. For example, after leading a sedentary life of pizza and potato chips, Dean Karnazes simply opened his front door and decided to run. Something just clicked and he changed his life. And this story repeats its self countless time in the endurance sports world.
So, what's the moral of the story? Greatness is relative, and the capacity for greatness lies in all of us. How will you be great?
Ok. Since you obviously now agree with me, we can continue.
To someone who runs 30 miles as a warm up, is running 100 all that extraordinary? Not really. Now, I am by no means implying that running 100 miles isn't special, but isn't that 100 mile run equatable to a 5k for someone who has never been a runner? Unequivocally, yes. I find the non-runner who decides to do a couch to 5k program as equally motivational as a Scott Jurek. Running 50 miles is relatively easy when you've already ran one. It's that first mile that's the challenge. This weekend, I ran in an 11 mile mud-filled obstacle race called Tough Mudder with my husband and some friends. My brother-in-law kept pace with a few of us self-proclaimed endurance junkies, only to find out around mile 8 that the furthest he had previously ran was about a mile or so (he wasn't really sure). Our other friend had never done anything like it before either. And he's a big guy, making the course more challenging. His tenacity made the spectators and other competitors take note. By the end of the race, random strangers were coming up to him and shaking his hand, telling him how inspiring he was. I am so blessed to have people like these in my life.
The part that I find most encouraging about the greats of our sport is that many of them find their stride later in life, usually due to a midlife crisis or the like. They don't have some storied carrier of racing dating back to their prepubescent years. For example, after leading a sedentary life of pizza and potato chips, Dean Karnazes simply opened his front door and decided to run. Something just clicked and he changed his life. And this story repeats its self countless time in the endurance sports world.
So, what's the moral of the story? Greatness is relative, and the capacity for greatness lies in all of us. How will you be great?
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