Making Peace with your Pace

In Buddhism you practise non-attachment to many things including your achievements. Luckily my accomplishment of "running" the whole way is short lived as I become enlightened to the fact I could have probably walked it quicker. I check the "How to Run" book and Paula states that the average runner does one mile in 13 minutes. Which means absolutely nothing to me since I don't do miles, or count (as previously stated) or especially math. I wouldn't have signed up for this if I knew math was involved.

 

What appeals to me is the simplicity of running. Now it has become more complicated. Like what is the difference between a fast walk, a jog and what constitutes a run? I spend my "rest" day driving the car working out the odometer to calculate distances. I momentarily become discouraged, as I feel I haven't even begun bringing any spirit aspect to my running or this blog because all my effort is on the running! But then I remember that it took me 14 years before I could even sit still enough to contemplate meditating. Once I could manage that it took 3 retreats, at least 5 teachers, 1 meditation group, countless books and loads of hours of practise. I should learn to accept I am a slow learner.

 

I thought running was a solitary sport but now I know you need a team behind you. I have the husband as a mathematician so I gave him some homework, I'm luckily enough to now have an accommodating (not to mention free) childcare team in my parents since I am basically a part-time single Mum. Now I need to find some experts. Which means apologising and grovelling to all those friends I have that are runners who I've teased (often behind their backs while eating Tunnock Teacakes). horrendously over the years for advice and support. This feels very much like a Catholic confession. Plus I have ordered a book online called "Making Peace with your pace." And once I work out what my pace is I should have hopefully have finished the book.

Anything is better than nothing

I never wear a watch. Only when I run. I'm following Paula Radcliffe's "How to Run" and I need to a stop watch so I know when to run and when to walk. I watch the seconds as keenly as a woman in labour timing contractions. And now I can't find my watch, so therefore I can't "run". I glance at the running program and my heart sinks. I've been trying to achieve day one for ten days. I could never read instructions. Or count. Which is why I need my stopwatch. My running partner's voice sings smugly in my head "Anything is Better than Nothing."
My running partner is my younger-by-a-decade sister. When she runs she only wears make-up so she perspires dew like beads. I sweat buckets from a face like grated beetroot. She runs like a gazelle. This is also the first time that I am going running without her. And no stop watch. I also can't find my running pants. My other options are maternity leggings that I will have to hold up with one hand or ones that give me a corker wedgie. It's getting dark now and the chances of me becoming road kill are increasing. I settle for a pair of shorts that in hindsight are my husbands old underwear (boxer not jock style!). Anything is better than nothing right?

I have a friend in Scotland that runs marathons like other people run to the shops for milk. Her advice was to run till I stop. This seemed good advice for someone trying to run with no stop watch, no running partner while wearing her husbands underwear. But something is watching me from the side of the road. A deer with two fawns quickly evaluate me as unable to outrun them and come closer for a look before flicking their pert tails at me like giving me the finger before they dash in the forest scoffing "You call yourself a mammal." Wildlife can be really rude. And scary till you identify it. I'm still not sure what those five creatures crossing the road orderly in a line were ahead of me. I don't think skunks live in families. These were too big for mice, too small for a bear and with long tails. I think they were raccoons. I started getting excited there was something up ahead but it was just a mail box.

Actually it was our mailbox. A miracle or lucky underwear, you decide. I ran the whole way.

On Your Marks. Get Set. Go!

I want to be a runner. When I stated this my father snorted as if I failed before I even began, my 3 year old daughter became distressed about who would make her breakfast and my Grandmother started worrying about my joints. Totally glossing over the fact that hefting around an extra 20 kilos wouldn't cause more destruction to my overall health.
I'm in no disillusion at the state my body is in. I've had three babies in four years. Two c-sections and a gall bladder removed. A survived a short (5 months) but powerful bout of post natal depression. I watch my ten month old try to take her first step walking and I feel the same way when I try to will my body to run. It would be nice to use my three children as an excuse for my physical state but the truth is that I wasn't in much better physical health before having kids either. Actually worse.

For awhile I spent time "researching" running, it made me feel like I was already doing it without leaving my bed. But the more I read seeking for inspiration the more discouraged I felt. Women trying to shift the extra 2 kilos before their wedding, the people who found marathons too easy and now doing "ultra marathons". How does someone who can literally run ten steps relate to this? I feel like the only person who really wanted to run but can't. Like that little train that chugged up the mountain spouting "I think I can I think I can I think I can."

I may not be able to hold my head up high yet and call myself a runner but I am certainly a multitasker. If I want to crack this running malarkey I am going to have to make time because I've looked and I can't find anymore. I have a daily meditation practise, which sometimes because a daily cleaning / nappy changing / buggy pushing / driving mindfulness meditation practise but now is going to evolve into running practise. Meditating, sedately on a mountain may work for monks but I have to be realistic here. If my body is my temple than mine is in serious need of renovation and it isn't going to happen sitting on my bottom meditating. The idea of combining the two appeals to me because I know that I will need all the higher power help I can get. My Dad's snort is ringing in my ears like a motor reving its engine.