Luna

Luna, or moon, is the first part of lunatic.  Some have commented on how the running I do is a little crazy.  I wonder if not running might make me a little crazy.

The moon.  That glowing orb which shares the suns rays with us as a cold and distant friend.  Changing with the seasons and the days.  The ebb of its brilliance brings us new ways of appreciating its beauty.  It always seems that its extremes are most poignant for me. 

The crescent moon like a glass of white wine tipped sideways pouring its effervescence on us in little bits, but reminding us of its presence in as it seems least visible like a phone call or message from a friend we haven't seen in a while or haven't had that deeper connection even though we see one another regularly, but only in passing. 

The just past full moon rose through the clouds this evening.  Yellow and warm over a cold night.  The track was host to scattered packs of runners reveling in the exhaustion of a hard workout completed.  The number of runners who stopped what they were doing to comment on the moon was overwhelming. 

Was our emptiness from not eating and running our bodies into submission the reason for our awareness of the moon?  Is it that the full or near full moon is significant in a different manner than the crescent?  Somehow reminding us on the other extreme of the spectrum how full our lives are with friends, family, work, expectation and obligations?  Does our running bring us into closer connection with the natural cycles of the universe through interaction with the elements in such a raw manner?  Or maybe the endorphin rush of the workout made the rising of the moon seem far more significant than it might otherwise?

Answers are irrelevant, for me, when discussing the cosmos.  Asking the questions was an interesting diversion for me as I drove home in the glow of knowing I had really pushed myself tonight. 

A fantastic time in a race, some hardware, accolades of others - these are the extrinsic rewards that drive some to put in the hard miles required to excel.  Sharing sweat, smiles, slaps on the back, a good joke or tale, and an appreciation of the amazing bounty of the universe are the benefits of running that get me out the door.  What gets you out the door and what do you find once you are out there?

Markers

There is a sign in Eugene, next to the Ruth Bascom Riverbank Trail, that indicates the start of the Eugene to PCT trail.  It simply states Waldo Lake 104 miles.  A simple sign with no correlation to most folk who pass it.  It is like the ones on I-5 stating Albany 24 miles.  We pass these markers by regularly without noting their significance. 


Who cares that Waldo Lake is 104 miles away when you are out for a morning run or walk along the river or trying to get to work on time by bicycle?  How many times though have folks passed that sign and wondered, even if briefly, what it would be like to travel that distance to Waldo Lake by foot or bike.  It offers an option we would otherwise not know we had.

Last Saturday I went into the woods with a fellow ultra runner.  We have run together and talked exactly twice.  Last year on the same Saturday and this year.  We started at about 7:10 and went for a nice 6 mile run/walk over a couple of significant climbs while marking a path for others to follow.  We finished where we started and began greeting our fellow runners. 

A marker is more than a marker in the long run.  The first day of school marks the beginning of a long journey through the ritual of becoming a productive member of society by learning to jump through hoops and sit in a cubicle while playing nicely with pencils or it is the beginning of a ritualized structure in which learning is discovered and shared.  A road sign can be the indicator you have longed for that the journey is over or that it has just begun.  We get to choose what markers mean for us, and we do not all have to choose the same meanings.  There are days when the run marks that I have completed a number of miles, days when the run indicates a great deal of growth in my running, and days when it marks that I have learned something valuable about myself or the cosmos.

Today I removed markers from the trail.  I did not do so alone.  Today I got to share a solemn ceremony with my daughters.  The ritual was complete for another year.  At 6 my girls are in school for the first time.  They know the rhythms of the seasons, the calendar and running.  They have raced on the track at Hayward Field, run with us on trails, crewed for us at marathons and ultras, and now they have participated in the process of removing markers.  Two years ago one of my daughters helped me remove markers from a portion of the trail and has talked about the ribbon run on occasion ever since.

Why should we remove markers?  At times it is important to find the path on your own.  To venture into what is unmarked territory - either by others or yourself.  In those unknown spaces outside the structure of civilized society is a place of great knowledge and power.  For knowledge is power, and hard earned knowledge through self discovery is the most powerful knowledge of all.  In this case it was to leave the trail in the condition we found it other than a few extra footprints in the mud.

My girls gathered those markers and marked their room.  Ribbons were tide end to end and draped with great care over their bunk bed.  They somehow knew that the ribbons have power.  It was a prize, hard earned by their own efforts to tackle those hills and bring home a trophy. 


We were offered sunshine, old man's beard, fern fronds, pine cones, mud, moss, smiles, long runnable downhills and the chance to spend quality time together. 


Markers. 

Today I mark as a great day!  It was great because I got to spend it in such a meaningful way with both of my daughters. 

Counting Steps

Most people take them.  Some cannot.  This blog is about taking steps with intention. 

When I run I inevitably find myself at some point counting my steps.  I have no idea what started this practice.  The earliest I recall counting my steps was seventh grade.  We were running a timed mile at the beginning of the school year in PE.  2 loops around the fence that surrounded the playing fields where I had spent so much time playing soccer, tennis, or pickup football games.  It was a boring loop.  I found that two of my steps fit neatly into the distance between fence posts and began counting to 8 and starting over.  The significance of counting to 8 is one I have never figured out, but I still count to 8, usually.

Now, 30 years later I will find myself in one of those mental funk sections of a run, not a bad stretch, but one where my constantly roaming mind needs a place of attachment, counting.  It is almost always on a section of level ground with the past and future trailing out in either direction with little or no change and I am creating it through counting.  I have moved by my steps in sections of 8 through obscure back roads, bike paths, suburban sprawl, gray urban mornings, bark chip running trails and around that 1/4 mile oval of a track.  I mark time and space and my own passage through each by counting strides.


We take other steps too.  I stepped out of the corridors of high school with a piece of paper in my hand that said my time was up.  I wandered the streets in search of meaning looking through plate glass windows in hopes that some spark would give me direction.  I stepped into the halls of the ivory tower and found it empty of meaning for my 18 year old mind and went back out step by step in search of something more sincere.  I followed in the footsteps of other travelers who sought meaning outside the carefully constructed 9-5 work place. 

What I missed was that I had stopped taking those carefully measured 8 count steps that inevitably lead me back to myself.  I had stopped running.

This is a step in a new direction for me.  While I have written excessively about my two 100 mile races, I have written almost nothing about how being and running are inevitable intertwined for me.  If you are still reading this, it is likely that they are intertwined for you, or you are wondering if they are.