Change of Pace

Navigational Art and Directions By Colleen Yorke, © 2015.

For some of us running has become a major component of our life. We follow a rigorous training schedule, which may seem like punishment to non-runners. Running in 90 degree weather. Running in the rain. Chasing wind tunnels. Running 45% inclines. Sprinting 200 yards. Running an ultra marathon. We run because we can. We run because it keeps us grounded and sane. We run because it helps us cope. The rhythm, routine, control, the tempo efforts and existential predawn speed sessions provide us with much needed balance and strength.   Grief is a strange fellow. In the last couple of weeks, I have run more than I should have. Running the miles means running with my demon. I am struggling. I am battling insurmountable hills. I am fighting to get stronger, day by day. My runs are personal. There are tears, but I return from my runs feeling, as I knew I would, a little better. Up until the moment, we hit a block. The swoosh is gone. We. Just. Can’t Do. It. We are exhausted, and training has become a tedious exercise in going from one run to the next. We just feel tired. Tired of running familiar routes dear to our heart and laden with memories. Tired of facing that demon on a regular basis. We accumulate miles to the point that running becomes a habit of rigidity. Running on auto-pilot takes on a self-replicating pattern, and we seldom ask if we are still doing what we ought to be doing. The worst part of burnout is that we run out of enthusiasm for our sport. While we may still enjoy the views or wax the nostalgic as we run by our memorabilia whatever they may be, we are hurting. In this sense, running too much of the time for too long may eventually strangle the meaning out of our days. We may be in need of a run-cation to change entrenched habits and behaviors. We may need to make some changes in our lives, give our hearts a chance to heal, give our feet a change of pace and new pathways to explore.  I do not know where the journey takes me, but I promise I will return and write about it. Maybe we will meet on the road.  "When the going gets tough, the tough get going."

500 Miles

Navigational Art and Directions By Colleen Yorke, © 2017.

"Life begins at the end of our comfort zone" 

For me, a lot has changed, since I started running last year. I associated running with a form of freedom, a way of choosing to let go. In reality, running is so much more than that. Running gives us a sense of clarity, of being alive in that moment, of idyllic nirvana. For many of us, running becomes a lifelong commitment. 

Robert "Raven" Kraft.

In 1975 a young man with shoulder long black hair joined a group of boxers for a 1 mile run on the Miami Beach for the first time. He has run every day ever since. Nicknamed the Raven, the man has seen every sunset for the past thirty nine years from a strip of sand now called South Beach, always starting from the 5th Street Lifeguard Station at 5:30 pm. Over the years runners from all age groups and backgrounds have joined "Raven" in his 8 miles' morning ritual. 

From being clueless about pacing or distance running a year before, I started this year burning through a new pair of shoes and 500 miles of running in 70 days. Running pushes us to defy limits. We are in control of our life. We learn to celebrate the moment, but for some of us running also teaches a valuable life lesson. With commitment and discipline we pass mile markers and new finish lines. Instead of letting go, we train to attain new heights. With the blow of a whistle we blaze through distances we considered impossible, walls we considered indestructible. Last night a friend asked me whether I planned to run another marathon this year. Like many others, he has watched me race the Los Angeles Marathon doing split times of 7:23 minutes per mile for the first 13 miles. The answer is a resounding "Yes". As our feet hit the road again, 500 miles from home, on the other other side of fear, we discover, life begins.