Running in another direction

The problem with clichés is that they contain an annoyingly accurate element of truth. Due to this blog I now have documented evidence. In a previous entry I mentioned how much more convenient it would have been to start my running journey in Australia. Now, it appears, life is suddenly taking me there kicking and screaming for two months. I think the appropriate cliché here is “be careful what you wish for.” My thermal running gear is pointing at me laughing hysterically in the corner. From potential -40 Celsius to potential +40 Celsius.

I have outgrown my 3km running goal about two months ago but continue to rerun it's glory on a daily basis. I need a running partner to hold my hand but none can be summoned despite best efforts. I suspect a change of scenery may distract me into accidentally running 5km, I know full well I am capable of doing on a regular basis. I hate golf. Why ruin a good walk, I say? However, I live next door to a spectacular ocean front golf course, which I barely give a second glance too. Upon further closer inspection makes awfully good running trails.

The golf course is a success for me once you remove the golf and add the running. 5Km is a breeze and my mind stretches to endless loops of a possible 7km before Christmas. Then I get sick. I have been running with a minor upper respiratory infection for nearly a month with no ill effects, but it has developed into rather acute sinusitis, that antibiotics can offer no relief. I have not run for 6 days, the longest I have gone in 4 months. I do not even have the desire nor the energy nor the motivation needed to run. This does not concern me as it once might have. I know it is momentary and shall pass.

My energy is occupied and distracted with other challenges. Can I fit a run in a Dubai stopover? Do they make wicking burkas? What do you do on a 12 hour flight when your ear drums burst pouring blood? Will that affect my balance and therefore running ability? Exactly at what point does medicating become drugging 2 toddlers and a baby on a 36 hour plane journey?

I am only packing one pair of shoes; my running shoes but considering I will be running on the beach mostly, even they are dispensable. Running is immune to time differences, currency exchanges and even to climate. The beauty of running is that it can go with you anywhere. Even now when I cannot run at all, I run in my head.

Sometimes goals change with your clothes.

“You're going running in THAT?” my Dad asked me before a run. The man who often gets mistaken as a homeless bum at the mall, that does not own a shirt without holes in it and who you know is “dressing up” if he is wearing pyjama bottoms at the dinner table. Had anyone else made a fashion critique I may not have paid any attention. But I take a quick survey and agree I may look a tad peculiar. A hybrid of a thug and a Shepard. In pink. The Gulf Shore road in Nova Scotia is probably as far away from a fashion runway as you can get but nonetheless I had to hit the shops. I only have one pair of running shorts (not counting the aforementioned underwear) and the weather informants I overhear are warning cold.

How smug I was to walk into the “running” section. But nothing brings me smack down on my fat bottom quicker than shopping. I have spent so much time running inside my head that I am a bit shocked that the body hasn't caught up. I haven't lost any weight. I fear it is karma for the mere 100gram weight loss I mocked last month. Right now 100 grams would be something! At this rate I will lose one kilogram per year. But people had said “muscle weighs more than fat” and it is all about “toning”and I wanted to believe them; so I did. I should have known better. The same “friends” that tell you that the second labour is quicker than the first, among other myths. And then the final blow. I cannot fit into any of the running clothes. Does this mean I am STILL not a runner? I become enraged. Whose to tell me I am not a runner? I'll show them! And fork over a small fortune.

“The only layer you need to keep warm” The label of my new running leggings says. For the first few strides I am the runner these running leggings were designed for. They are so tight that they make my legs appear two sizes smaller. A few minutes into the run I work out why: all the leg fat had been squeezed up my legs and was now an overinflated tire of blubber about to burst at the top. The label should have read “Scientifically designed to be too tight and fall down at the same time.” I had an extreme case of camel toe. I kept having to fold my stomach flab into my leggings the same way other people tuck their shirt into their trousers. At that moment I would rather look like a pink Shepard thug than expose myself to ten cars on a country road.

I have placed aside the 5 km, 10 km, half marathon and marathon goals. My new number one priority goal is to fit into my new running leggings. I paid too much for them and I can't return them, stinking of sweat while coming up with some lame excuse yet secretly aware I wore two sizes too small thermal running leggings on a 17 degree Celsius day.

Om Mani Padme Run! - Mantra Running

For half of my life I was truly blessed. I lived in Australia, a country where day to day, the weather remained seasonally predictable and each day unchanging. Of course there were the freak days where it may have rained or even hailed, and we would all marvel then get on with enjoying the sunshine. Then we moved to the UK where we discovered talking about the weather is the number one conversation topic, very occasionally bumped to number two which is how long it took to drive to work or various routes to get there. Had I known that talking about the weather is a national sport in Canada I very nearly may have not moved here (if you thought the national sport was hockey, I am sorry you have been misinformed).

For me the weather is simple; days I can run outside and days I really should not. The rest of the time I am curious exactly how cold or how deep the snow has to be before I cannot run outside. I had my first taste of this when the frost hit us hard. It was -1 Celsius and I was running in shorts and my mudra was disintegrating before my eyes. Only then did it occur to me that maybe I should actually have paid attention to all this talk about weather. Running in the cold is hard work. All my usual well honed distractions were not working. The only thing that did was mantras.

Essentially a mantra is a repeated word or phrase. It may be chanted or sung. For the most part, while running, I do it silently in my head. It is shorter than a prayer, but just as a revealing. By meditating continually on one mantra a meaning can come bursting out at any time. My favourite, and probably the most common, mantra is “om mani padme hum” which translates to “the jewel in the lotus”. The interpretation that inspires me the most is all about discovering and unleashing our innate potential. Nothing is more sacrilegious than seeing talent go to ruin. So this is the mantra I used on this cold, cold, cold run. It is hard not to digress into talking about the weather....it is in my blood.

Quickly my step began to run to the mantras beat and it morphed into “om mani padme RUN!” What ever works to get me through the run I will do. Meditating on this mantra I had this revelation: you may or may not know this scene from Absolutely Fabulous (not very Zen but stay with me) when Eddie (who has a slight pudge) says there is a skinny woman inside her screaming to get out. Well behind this beetroot face non-runner there is a REAL marathon runner sprinting to get out. She is the jewel in my lotus. Most importantly she is effortless, well clothed and very warm. Smartly she started her running journey in Australia.

I was discussing this run with a friend saying how I can “only do 5km slowly.” The sort of daft things people who are becoming runners say. “Still faster than someone laying on the couch,” she responded. Which is very true. I would rather be the slow “only-can-do-5km-runner” than a couch potato. Especially a couch potato talking about the weather.