Training Inspiration + Little Brown Mile Markers: Lost and Found

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As can sometimes happen, I found myself in a bit of a funk last weekend. After a long week of intense focus on networking, writing and learning new things professionally, I think my brain just shut off in exasperation. On top of that, I’m dealing with a tough situation personally, and all of a sudden the world just didn’t look very rosy anymore. (This is rare for me, an eternal optimist.)

So what to do? Call a sister, of course. (It’s like the Phone a Friend lifeline, only the result is usually an uplifting feeling… no million-dollar jackpots. I’ll take the uplifting any day.)

Sister S. told me I needed to get outside and take a run. Even though it was a gorgeous, sunny fall day, every fiber of my being said, “No! We want to wallow in our misery.” Plus, since the triathlon racing season ended, I have been — hmm, how to say it? — LAZY. But, since it was naptime for the tiny one and my husband was watching my oldest, I dragged myself outside. And not just out my door for an easy 5K neighborhood lap… I somehow persuaded myself to run in nearby Waterton Canyon, a gorgeous place featuring steep, rocky cliffs, a deep, sparkling river, seasonal color and, on that day, a good-sized herd of bighorn sheep on the path.

Photo courtesy singletracks.com

I knew I was in for some pain on this run. After all, it’s all slightly uphill on your way in — just enough to wear you out more quickly than running on flats. I figured I’d run about two miles in, then turn around (I never claimed to be a distance runner) for some lovely downhill running. Only once I got started and pushed past the initial “ugh, am I really doing this?” — I actually started to enjoy myself and pushed on.

With a bright blue sky and cool breeze, I noticed that it was my favorite time of day, when the late-afternoon sun reminds me of honey. Thick and golden. I liked how the steep rock faces framed each new vista as I made my way around a bend. I shared the path with families out for a Sunday hike, mountain bikers pedaling up to the single-track trailhead, and folks carrying fly-fishing gear. Lots of smiling faces… and I truly did my best to smile back through the grimace that’s usually pasted on my face while running. (Have I mentioned it’s the feeling AFTER running that keeps me going?)

Don’t let me fool you. I only noticed all that crunchy natural goodness in between times when I was watching desperately for the next brown mile-marker post. I remember seeing one at Mile One, another at 1.5, and another at Mile Two. Where in blazes was 2.5? I checked my watch, calculating my pace. I’d either missed the last brown post, or someone was playing a dirty, rotten trick on me, a suffering-lapsed-triathlete-who-likes-to-think-she’s-tougher-than-she-is. So now I guess I was striving for the Mile Three marker.

I made a deal with myself: run to the next brown post, then turn around for a blessedly downhill walk back. Surely I could handle that. I focused on my form — leaning forward from the ankles (not the waist), arms bent, swinging forward and back (not side to side), head level, with gaze pointed slightly down. I checked my watch again… okay, thinking about running form took up a staggering thirty seconds. Now what?

Okay, I think, let’s try some intervals. I allowed myself to walk for 30 seconds, then ran hard for a minute or so. Did that, oh, maybe three times. WHERE IS THAT BROWN POST? Wait — is that it, under the tree ahead? Jog steadily, getting closer… no, that’s actually the tree trunk I’m seeing. Am I that wiped, that I could forget how the skinny vertical shape under a canopy of leaves is usually a trunk? Pathetic.

Of course, I finally reached the fabled brown post. I have never been so happy to see a little brown post, I don’t think, ever before in my lifetime. I turned gratefully around and realized I was completely alone on the path. Walking felt like heaven. I took off my ball cap, scrabbled my fingers through my sweaty hair and let the breeze begin to cool me down.

And that’s when I felt it.

“It” being the feeling that I can only describe as “All is Right in the World.” I’m burstingly happy, I see beauty around me, and I feel grateful to be a tiny creature in the world. I appreciate all my relationships, I see goodness in difficult people, and walking feels so good. Can a breeze actually make you feel beautiful? The one I felt that day did. Something about a headwind that makes you squint, even makes your eyes water, as your own two feet propel you down the canyon and your heart rate begins to slow… there’s no other way to explain it. I felt beautiful. (While knowing full well that my puffing physical reality then was oh-so-much-further from it than usual.)

I walked the three miles back to the parking lot and managed to hold onto that feeling for quite awhile. I meditated as I walked, keeping my mind open and free. I’ll admit I was chilly and stiffening up toward the end, but, as any athlete knows, it was a “good sore.” I looked forward to my long, hot shower and some yoga.

Well, that’s it — no keywords, no SEO. Just a little story of how a sister, a run and some brown posts in a spectacular canyon brought me up from a low place… and set me gently upright on the path to find my way again. I’m a lucky girl.

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Tags: training inspiration, Triathlon Training