#335: A Holy Run

Glutes: the biggest muscles you have,
except for this guy, whose shoulders
are bigger than his butt.

8.4 miles yesterday. The run felt great. Now it's the morning after, and I'm pretty stiff and sore. I just love working out so hard that my glutes hurt. You use those big butt muscles all the time, but really working them isn't easy. It feels great, but I think there are a couple of walking days in my future until the old legs recover. I actually do have a couple of short runs scheduled this week, then another long one on the weekend. After that, I'm going to taper back a little for the 10K on July 4. Yes, I've registered. I'm gonna do it.

Yesterday was my best time for 10K. It was also my longest run to date. .It was hot, between 78 and 82 degrees. I slathered on the sun screen and carried a bottle of Gatorade with me. It wasn't long before I was wishing it was ice water instead, because I really wanted to dump some on my head. I'm not going to complain about my thick, dark hair, not at my age, but it is definitely a liability when running in the sun. It wasn't long before the water was actually hot. This amused me since I was running in the same sun and probably cooking at the same rate. I had no heat illness symptoms though, so I guess I was hydrating well, even if I could have made sun tea in my hand.
I stuck with my current Run/Walk interval: 2:00 run/0:30 walk. It really worked for me and I think I'm going to keep that ratio for a while. I can cover a surprising amount of ground in 2 minutes, and the half-minute rest is just enough for me to catch my breath, check my posture, and take a sip of fluid before the watch beeps again for my next run. I keep getting faster, so something good is happening.

Pacing is hard for new runners. Without experience, it's difficult to know just how fast you are running, or how fast you should be running. It usually takes me about 2 miles to really start to feel in a groove. I always start out way too fast. I keep having to remind myself to slow. My splits were consistent, though: the fastest mile was 13:16, (stupidly, this was mile 1.) The slowest was 14:56. mile 8. That surprised me because I still felt strong. I guess I wasn't as impressive as I felt. Still, eight sub 15 minute miles felt prett good for a fat man.

A bridge on the Legacy Trail

There was something holy about yesterday's run. I don't think I experience the "runner's high" that you read about, though I was running pretty painlessly. My last mile was a lot easier than my first steps toward the bathroom this morning. The holy part came at the mile 7 mark when I realized that I was actually going to be able to do this. I had already finished 10, and in good time. I had a mile to go, and would be able to finish that, too. I even had plenty of hot Gatorade left in my hand. For the first time in a long time, I prayed. I mean, I really prayed.

In the same way, the Spirit also helps us in our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we should. But the Spirit himself intercedes with groans too deep for words, and the one who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, for the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to God's will. ~ Rom 8:26-27

There is a holy place in our lives where words just can't say what needs to be said. In the arms of our beloved. At the top of a mountain. In the dressing room after a great performance. I imagine that the birth of your child is one of them, too. At times like these, our prayers really are "too deep for words," and all we can do is stand in the presence of our Creator like a child in the rain, letting the Spirit wash over us. That's what happened to me when I got in the car to drive home after my cool-down. I felt God's arms around me, God's breath breathing in my lungs, God's joyful tears cooling my face as we both celebrated the healing and resurrection that my run represented. God didn't speak to me in this moment, and I didn't speak either. We just were. We rode together in the car, sipping on a vanilla milk shake from Dairy Queen, feeling the wind on our faces and smiling. It has been hard for me to feel worshipful in church for a couple of years. I keep going back, hoping that one day I will feel my Father's presence again. Yesterday, on a sweaty, exhausting morning, with my eyes burning from the sun and my legs already stiffening, I felt Him. The Creator of the world took a moment to sit with me and smile.

These moments are rare. That's what makes them holy. Now it is time to go back to work. Our lives can be seen as a combination of worship and ministry. We come into God's presence to find the strength and the inspiration to go into the world and do the work of the kingdom among God's people. Here is one of my favorite passages from the Eucharistic Prayer.

Lord God of our Fathers; God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in his name.

Risen Lord, be known to us in the breaking of the Bread. ~ Book of Common Prayer, p. 372.

From Pennsy's training table

Bread, ice cream: turns out either will work. One is just easier to break. So I continue to look for ways to minister. I serve my wife. I raise money for diabetes. I look after my animals. I bring joy to my work in the rehearsal hall. I call my Mum. And I write this blog. I don't know if any of these things is ministry, or if any of them is the reason God and my doctors brought me back from the dead. I can't tell you if I have found my true calling: my vocation. But moments like that drive home yesterday are what give me the strenth to keep looking for it.

We often enounter our holy places where we least expect them. Like somewhere between mile 7 and the Dairy Queen. I pray that you find yours today.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.

Amen,
Pennsy

#332:Running 4 the Sole: A New Personal Best!

This was the out-and-back course for today's 5K, "Running 4 the Sole."


So what's behind the funny name?

Here's the description from their Facebook page: This is a shoe drive for kids around the world who don't have footwear. It's a great cause as your donation can prevent foot disease and send a child to school. The registration fee was one pair of old shoes. I donated a pair of 13s that were a little short and narrow for me. Some big-footed boy is going to be very happy with them. By the time I got there, they had a pickup truck full. It was so inspiring! The event was organized by a Lexington 5th grader named Kasey. She did an amazing job lining up sponsors, organizing the marketing, and finding a lovely venue that was a fun run for everybody. But man, was it hot. As best I can figure, it was about 80 degrees when I arrived at 1:00 to warm up for the 1:30 start. "Warm up" may be the wrong word to use. I sure didn't need any warm up clothes. I had put on sunscreen at home, and was already wearing my Nike Pegasus shoes and knee stabilizers. When I left the house.  I drank quite a bit of water before the race, but I was glad I did. I used it all. To warm up, I did a nice, easy walk/jog/run around the park. I probably did about a mile-and-a-half, including what I thought was going to be the last quarter mile, down the big hill that usually leads to the finish line. Throughout my warm ups, I had a little twinge in my right calf, so I resolved to start out very slowly and drop out if I couldn't get comfortable. The race started a couple of minutes late, which gave me time to check out some of the other runners. There were a couple with baby strollers. I love these things. I always hope that the kid continues running once they're out and moving on their own. There were some beautiful dogs, A couple of setters and three Weimaraners in particular. The heat would have been murder for Jake, but those big old short hairs seemed to thrive in it. Most of their humans would have had much better times if they had just brought skate boards and let the dogs tow them. "I hope that guy is wearing suncreen." There was one young man in particular who caught my attention. He had the long-limbed look of a real runner and was not wearing a shirt. "A choice only a young man would make on a day like this," I thought to myself. It's probably a sign of my own geezerdom that my first thought was, "I hope that guy is wearing sun screen." He was doing some pretty esoteric warm ups, hops and butt kicks back and forth in front of the starting line. I wasn't sure if he was for real, or just showing off. But, judging from the way he looked when he passed me, headed back for the finish, right after I reached the 1 mile point, I'd say he was for real. I gave him a couple claps and an "attaboy." When you can run like that, you can look as goofy as you want before the start. Instead of the traditional gun or air horn, the race started with two young girls counting down "Three. Two, One... GO!" . It really set the tone for what was a "Fun Run" from start to finish. I was a little thrown when the leaders did not make what I expected to be the first turn. We were not following the route I had run here in the past: the one I had trained so strongly on when I came out on Thursday. I decided to throw away my plans, and just enjoy the trip. I started the interval timer on my watch so I would know when to walk and when to run. After the first 90 second trot, I walked and took stock. I checked in with my right leg, and whatever was twinging earlier had worked itself out. The right knee showed no signs of complaint. Back? Straight and strong. Sunglasses? Staying firmly in place. Sweat band? Sopping up the drops and keeping my eyes clear. But what was going on with my shorts? I have this pair of shorts. I really like the way they feel. They are a dark sort of pewter color with a black and yellow stripe down the leg. They looked fantastic in the store. Not as great on me, but I don't have to look at them, and they've always worn just fine. Thing is, today, they started to creep. Not creep up. The legs stayed down where they belonged, fluttering lightly against my compression shorts. It was the waist. For reasons I can't begin to explain, the waist of my shorts was moving in a clockwise direction around my body! Several times during the race, I would reach down and hike them back around, lining the back seam up with my own back seam. They would be OK for a while, then a few minutes later, I would feel them over on the right again. I assume this says something about my running form that someone with a trained eye is going to have to fix for me. For now, it's just part of the whole comical package that makes up Fat Man Running. I used 90 second/30 second run/walk intervals, and that really seems like a good place for me. Sure, a lot of people zoomed past me at first, but, I caught a lot of them before it was over. I also discovered, after confirming the distance on mapmyrun.com that my Nike+ sportband measured this run about .16 miles shorter than it actually was. Not a big deal when I'm training, and in a measured race, I can always go back and do the math later. I finished the race at a gallop, or maybe it was a gallumph, but it felt like galloping to me. I finished strong and well ahead of my previous personal best. I had done that crazy Krispy Kreme challenge on a cool, hazy morning in 38:36. Today, my time was 37:08. That's an average pace of 11:59/mile, which means that somewhere in there, I also met my personal goal of breaking a 12 minute mile, set back in the winter, when I could barely finish in 15. Time to move those goalposts out a couple more minutes. I gratefully received my cold bottle of water at the finish, then took a nice long walk to cool down. After that, it was a quick drive home, get out of the wet clothes, find the ice pack for my knee, and pass out with Mrs P and the dogs for a few minutes. What a great day! Sort of makes me glad the Rapture didn't happen yesterday after all. The little angels who put this race together would have been taken up for sure. And running in the blazing heat would have taken on a whole new significance. Peace, Pennsy