Day 331: Cautious Optimism

Over the course of one’s life, when you get hurt you tend to develop methodologies for coping with the pain and trying to not let that scenario occur again. We do this often with physical pain, like burning one’s mouth on extremely hot coffee; smashing a finger with a hammer or getting beat up. We are very good at looking back on the event afterward and evaluating what went wrong and what we should not do next time around to assure we are not hurt in the same way. We create warning flags for ourselves to give ourselves a heads up that danger may be approaching. To follow the earlier example, we feel the hot cup (warning sign) and wait until the coffee has had a few minutes to cool before sipping it and not burning out mouth (desired result). We will continue to believe in the best life can offer us, while keeping our guard at least slightly up to protect ourselves from getting hurt the same way multiple times. Human nature, right?

The same holds true for running-related injuries. After your first running related injury, you find yourself thinking, “That sucked, I am NEVER gonna let this happen again.” But time passes and you heal and start training to hard again or pushing to prep for a race too fast and you are injured again. You are human so you are going to make the same mistake a few times, before it really sinks in. Practice makes perfect right? Eventually you start to listen to those warnings, and you give yourself ample time to heal back to 100% after your most recent injury, and you are ready for your first post-injury long run. However, understandably, you are going to be cautious. Optimistic, but cautious. That was me on Wednesday. I had been running low mileage for a while now, testing my legs and making sure I was healed before starting to really push again. When I headed out for my run that morning, I had no specific mileage in mind. I just wanted to run for an hour. Which would be a feat considering that since my latest injury the max I had run outside for was maybe 35 minutes. I was looking forward to the run, but was nervous that a push beyond my typical low mileage would result in a visit to the re-injury gray area. However, I was in very good spirits from an impromptu visit from my boyfriend the night before (to cheer me up after a really awful morning) and it was a beautiful, crisp, sunny morning. And I was determined.

I started my run very slow, a light jog if you will, and focused very hard on my foot strike and gait. I wanted to start out “on the right foot” so that when I was several miles in and tired, it would just happen naturally. Focusing on my footwork and my stride as I run also helps me zone out. You wouldn't think so, but it's like when you are reading a book. When you're reading, you focus on the words and the premise; you get wrapped up in what's unfolding and everything else tunes out. My footwork is my words and my stride is my premise. When I am running, I am constantly working on my story and zoning out. It's a neutral state for me where I am both thinking and not, feeling and not, existing and not, all at once. Everyone has this feeling or experiences it at some point. I have friends for whom this happens while horse-back riding, skiing, playing soccer, sky diving, knitting, playing piano, and riding a motorcycle through the country side.

This neutral feeling occurs when you perform an action or a series of actions you know by heart and find pleasant and calming. When your brain doesn’t have to think about the series of actions you’re performing, you gain clarity in the simplicity. This means knowing how to do said activity/action and being able to engage without thinking, based on training and repetition. For example, a boot camp course teaches you how to perform a series of military activities fluidly so that when you are in the field you can perform these actions without thinking about how to do them. You are training your body and muscles to follow a certain set of steps and commands without having to think about them to perform them. We all have this capability; it’s as simple as making breakfast. No one thinks, “Okay I need to get a bowl out of the cupboard, grab the cereal, open the box, and pour the cereal in the bowl. Close the lid and put the box away, open the fridge, take out the milk, open the milk, and pour the milk into the cereal.’ No, we just make breakfast. But we didn’t always know how to make breakfast. So now my body knows how to run; I long ago taught myself about stride, foot strike, and form so that I would run in a fluid constructive fashion. But you aren’t built with that knowledge, you have to learn it. But until you learn it, practice, and (sort of) perfect it (by running often), you won’t be able to achieve that neutral, zone-out, run forever feeling. For most people this state first occurs around 4 miles or higher, but once you been running awhile, you can slip right into it. Let me stress that it’s not that you don’t think about anything and your mind is blank when you go into this neutral state. There are thoughts and sometimes long chains of thought happening upstairs, but the feeling surrounding you like an aura is one of neutrality, a half-awake sub-conscious pondering. Anyway, back to my run.

I ran a familiar route that I haven’t run in about a month, but since it was morning and windy, everything looked slightly different. The light was hitting each house and tree in a different way than it normally does when I run around noon. It made the route seem new and old at the same time. I made a mental note that there was a lot of yes and no, up and down, ying and yang happening at the same time on this run. Also it was cold. And not your average, “dang this is kinda unpleasant I should have worn another layer” cold. It was “holy crap, what was I thinking, its freezing out here, my feet went numb 15 minutes ago, I think I’m getting frostbite on my face” kind of cold. Okay, I am totally exaggerating, but it was really cold. So cold that my legs were still neon pink for 15 minutes after I came inside from my run. Yes, I am a bit of a pansy about the cold, but I do prefer it over running in the dead heat of summer. So to combat the chilly weather I wore: two pairs of socks, Nike tights, pair of Brooks shorts, a base sleeveless layer, my Cherry Blossom 10 Miler long sleeve shirt, a fleece, a slightly wind-resistant jacket, a fleece hat, and last but not least a headband on top of the hat. I looked ridiculous, but I was dressed warm enough so that I’d be okay (just okay, not warm) while running, and too cold if I walked. That’s the key in dressing for a run in cold weather. Being just barely warm enough so you’ll stay in the “I’ll live” zone, but won’t walk out of fear of freezing to death. So now about a mile and change into my run, and I’d concentrated enough on my form and feet (which I couldn’t feel anyway) that I was doing it automatically and started to zone out. I was so cold I could barely feel my quads or my face anymore and snot was draining out of my nose in a constant stream. What!? No one said you’d look pretty when you run. But I wasn’t thinking about all that. By this point I was running over a small set of hills and thinking about what drivers headed to work think of when they see runners, like me, on the sidewalk.

I feel like I should mention that I would prefer to run unseen (or unwatched) on the glorious trails of California, Oregon or Colorado that I’ve seen pictured in Runner’s World. I would prefer my running style and form to be as anonymous as the trees in some national park or the sunrise over a quiet mountain. But for now I have to settle for the suburban streets of Northern Virginia and the early morning commuters watching me drag my behind along the side of the road. While they only see me for a split second, I watch this endless parade of cars go by for the entire hour. So I got to wondering what they think when they see a runner in the early morning’s cold. Cause I certainly think about them. Maybe it’s strange, but I never envy them. I’d take being out on a cold morning run ANY day over sitting warm and rotund in a polluting stinking noisy vehicle listening to another’s version of morning news. But being a runner, when I happen to be going somewhere (by bicycle, bus, train or occasionally by car) and I see a runner out and about, my first thought is usually: “Ah, crap. I should have run this morning. I’ll run later for sure.” If I already went for a run that morning, I tend to think: “Hell yeah, got it done earlier. Keep on keeping on man (or woman)!” If I am not running that day because it’s a rest or cross training day for me, I always think, “I wish I could be running right now.” My thoughts when I see another runner are always positive, because I love running and I love seeing other people run. But what about others, I wondered as I hit my turn around spot and began the set of hills on the way back. Do other people find runners obnoxious spots of neon orange and purple along the road in the morning? Do they envy them? Do they laugh and think, “Idiot, it’s freezing outside!”? What’s the thought when you spot a runner? So here is where I will enlist your help readers! Please take a moment, consider my question and leave an answer/comment:


          1. Whether or not you’re a runner, what do you think when you see one pass you by while you’re in a car, at the bus station, by a window in a restaurant, etc?

          2. If you are a runner (or just have run before), what do you think (of them or what you think they think of you) when you pass by people in the street, restaurants, and cars when you’re running?


By now I was closing in on the end of my run. I was proud to say that regardless of the cold, early morning commute, and the whipping hostile wind I ran for an hour and 2 minutes and I completed a bit upwards of 5 miles. Probably about 5.4 miles total. It may have been slower than usual, but I finished the best way one could ask to finish their first long(er) run in a long time: un-injured and with a very big smile on my face. As always, thanks for stopping by and reading. I hope you all have a wonderful joyous day and go out for a run.