Rain or Shine, Snow or Ice

Thu, 24 Dec 2009 13:40:46 -0500

My first week of training has been pretty easy. On Monday I went out for an easy 7 miler. Considering the conditions of the city sidewalks and streets I was a bit hesitant to run. Philadelphia was hit with a snow storm that left many distraught and also amazed. In the 2 years I have lived on the east coast I had not witnessed anything like it. There was serenity, calmness amidst the chaos in the streets. Rittenhouse Square appeared like something out of a post card. Children played and parents chatted among the many busy shoppers. It truly awakened the spirit of the season. For many it may have dampened their spirits bit but for runners there was no holding back. The workouts had to be done despite the conditions.

I set out on my slippery run being very careful not to overdress or under dress. As I read at one point, being too warm in the beginning of a run means one is overdressed; I made sure I was a bit chilly. The streets were empty, as expected and not a single runner crossed my path that night. Perhaps most runners turned onto treadmills or decided to bag the workouts. Most people must have thought I was crazy to be running in the dark, on the icy streets, in some spots having to hurdle snow drifts. I have to admit, sometimes I wonder myself. During my run I was struck with fond memories as a child. The winters in Northeastern Arizona use to be pretty extreme.

It was the winter of 1992, like most winters we were hit with a terrible blizzard. It was like a scene out of Little House on the Prairie. We had several feet of snow that prevented us from attending school for several weeks. My family didn’t have proper transportation and living without running water or electricity made the situation even more difficult. However, these situations never interrupted the warmth of our home. It was during this time that my grandparents would tell the winter stories. In Navajo culture the winter season is the time for stories of origin. It is a season of rebirth, the beginning of a new year and the rejuvenation of life in general. The Navajo culture is very unique because there are ceremonies and rituals that take place in their own appropriate seasons. The winters are filled with stories of creation as the people are geared toward family life and the events that surround their lifestyle. Many games and traditions have emerged from the relationship between the people and the land. Out of the long winters and the seclusion of the reservation has emerged the customs and activities use by the people to entertain and amuse themselves.

We listened to stories of how my grandparents survived an even greater blizzard many years before, when their sheep actually had to be dug out from beneath the snow. Our days were spent melting ice and snow so our animals could drink and often we would melt snow for drinking and bathing for ourselves. My brother and I often had to trek a few miles to my grandparent’s house for vegetables that were harvested a few months before. There were no supermarkets or relief programs; it was each family for themselves. Eventually we returned to school, interestingly enough, there was no transportation to and from school so we rode our horses. I recall my father leasing several of our horses after school and we would all ride back together. This was done repeatedly over the course of the winter.

Reflecting back on this time makes me realized that despite the difficult times my family maintained the traditions and spirit of what it truly means to survive. As I plodded along the icy path along the river I realized that overcoming such difficulties truly puts a new perspective on life. I’m very fortunate to have endured so much and with the support of family and teachings of my grandparents I’m able to face challenges as they come; challenges even greater than a few feet of snow, icy paths or chilly winds. People might think I’m crazy for running in such conditions but it’s those people that neglect to live for the moment.

The Road to Boston

Mon, 21 Dec 2009 23:05:29 -0500

It has been several weeks since my last entry. As a re-cap I’d like to mention that I started documenting my training for the 2009 NYC Marathon with the hope of attracting runners and non-runners from all walks of life to follow me in my marathon pursuit. Ultimately I completed the marathon after what appeared to be a roller coaster of emotions full of physical setbacks. In the weeks leading up to the marathon I found myself once again on the injured list. However, despite the setbacks I was able to return to the pavement and crank out a 2:58 marathon. Thanks to a bit of stubbornness and a great thing called motivation. Throughout my previous entries one will catch a glimpse of my personal life and how much of it is influenced by running. In the beginning it was just a sport that held very little interest to me. As I matured and learned how to dig deep to achieve results it eventually became a way of life. Over the years I have raced distances from the 100 meters as a track athlete to the ½ Marathon as a post-collegiate cross country runner. On November 1, 2009 I added the Marathon to my repertoire.

Now the question is: where do I go from here? What lies beyond the Marathon? An ultra-marathon? Or perhaps a revisit to my former distances with the aspiration of setting new PRs. For the most part, 2010 will hold new challenges and maybe new distances. With the new found passion to race again I believe that the New Year will produce great results and an even more jammed pack racing schedule. The first major stop will be the Boson Marathon on April 19^th.

Following the NYC Marathon I embraced the marathon high for several weeks. It had become the biggest accomplishment in my life. I continued to heal from the previous injury and returned to my home town in northeastern Arizona. During this down time, I enjoyed the serene landscapes that immediately engulfed my wild spirit. I attempted several runs and revisited the old trails that commenced this 11 year running career, however running at 6000 ft. was no easy task. I found myself jogging slower than I could ever recall jogging and yet the time and space provided was rewarding. To witness the everlasting landscapes and vistas only found in the southwest were rewarding. My first run took me through the valleys and along the dirt roads that have long been abandoned by automobiles. The only evidence of life were the tracks of cattle and wild mustangs. The eventual yelps of hungry coyotes were also in abundance and spots of ravens dotted the endless skies and an occasional hare darting from dried out sage brushes. I always cherished my time alone on these trails; I could run for hours with no disturbance from anything or anyone. It truly is a runner’s paradise, the high elevation, an undisturbed land and breathtaking vistas and for a few hours a week, a few minutes a day it becomes all mine.

(The view of thousands of acres of the family ranch at sunset)

Upon returning to Philadelphia I was a bit hesitant to start training for the Boston Marathon. Despite many weeks of rejuvenation I evidently was more stressed about making ends meet and making the decision to remain in Philadelphia or return back west. As is in most stressful situations I went out for a run. With the shorter days and chilly temperatures the abundance of runners was minimal. I ran along the Schuylkill River and for the first time in a long time witnessed the overwhelming image of the slowly flowing river. Perhaps it was the reflection of the light bouncing of the water, the cars zipping along the boulevard or just the subtle hush that enveloped the image of Philadelphia at dusk. Without realizing I had completed a 10 mile run and finished with a new found determination in my decisions. I chose to remain in Philadelphia for the time being. At least until my quest for Boston has been fulfilled. Regardless of the outcome this journey will definitely make its mark in the memory book. As I am now inching closer and closer to the start of a new training program I reflect back on my previous training, my first and only marathon performance and acknowledge my strengths and weaknesses. Ideally I know I am capable of running much faster than a 2:58. To achieve that time straight out of injury and a lack of fitness I am confident that my next big race will hold many new expectations. The pressure is on and will only intensify as I inch closer and closer to race day. The Road to Boston has commenced!