The way my life works now is my husband and I get pretty excited to have our separate baby breaks by working out.
He is now an avid biker and bikes for miles during his time. I still run.
This weekend I went running on Sunday and it was starting to rain. Very few people were running.
It was very still and silent and it reminded my very much of a certain time of year growing up in Maine when I would run on old country roads through the woods (though of course i was in the park - but still there were trees).
It's funny because I have ran in light rain so many times but it still feels fresh and like this unexpected experience. Maybe it goes back to times of being caught in the rain - I'm not sure. But I still get excited by the smell of rain, how everything looks slightly drenched and how it makes me feel like I'm sort of part of the storm (even if it wasn't really a storm). Maybe even courageous - a big over-statement I know but when I was out there on my own, tiered and going through the park trails I felt kind of courageous. Just like I did the first time on a five mile run it began to pour.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
hick starts to run
I first started running at a pretty young age. I grew up in a tiny tiny town in Western Maine. The end of North country. Which really just means the end of logging camps. Hickville. But beautiful all the same. We used to say the only thing to do in New Sharon Maine was get drunk and play sports. That was true. Probably too many people just focused on the first.
As it happened, my older sister Becky was a gifted athlete. She is still. She was and maybe still is my idol. She taught me the meaning of perseverence what it means to practice and the sweetness of failure and success. I associate certain smells with sports - not sweat but serene Fall days and cold days of dry land training of ski team where you are so hot and so cold all at once steam comes off you. And you want to die.
When I was thirteen Becky told me that I should start training over the summer if I wanted to be the best field hockey player on the 7th and 8th grade team. I vividly remember her telling me that at the end of practice coach would have us do sprints across the freshman football field and the only option was for me to come in first. I believed this - and did out of luck and maybe some good fast genes manage to do this.
I don't consider myself any sort of massive runner anymore. But I still consider myself an athlete. Running is core to that. I can remember my first five mile around old Town Flag Road at age 12. I can remember how I used to race my sister and best friend to the top of Cape Cod Hill - and the suffocating feeling at the very end. The shaking of my legs. And how strong and confident I felt. I also found out that I was not a great distance runner. That was hard for me - real distance - 10 miles and such.
But I was really fucking fast. And that made me feel strong and invincible. I continued to grow my athletic career on this speed. Much to my dismay I was never great like my sister. But I was fast - which lead to some really good things as a field hockey right wing and in the 100 yard dash. It has also helped as I have gotten older - once trapped (due to my husband's poor navigating) in a tunnel in Peru with a train coming - I tapped into that feeling ..and I remember from my youth the term "kick it back" when you really wanted to go your fastest. My husband is a strong runner and he said my speed made him uncomforbable. I love running fast. Sometimes I like to race kids for fun. I can't say the same about distance...don't have it in me. Lacking that perseverence. I still do sprints at the end of my runs now. Just to remind myself that I am indeed really fast.
As it happened, my older sister Becky was a gifted athlete. She is still. She was and maybe still is my idol. She taught me the meaning of perseverence what it means to practice and the sweetness of failure and success. I associate certain smells with sports - not sweat but serene Fall days and cold days of dry land training of ski team where you are so hot and so cold all at once steam comes off you. And you want to die.
When I was thirteen Becky told me that I should start training over the summer if I wanted to be the best field hockey player on the 7th and 8th grade team. I vividly remember her telling me that at the end of practice coach would have us do sprints across the freshman football field and the only option was for me to come in first. I believed this - and did out of luck and maybe some good fast genes manage to do this.
I don't consider myself any sort of massive runner anymore. But I still consider myself an athlete. Running is core to that. I can remember my first five mile around old Town Flag Road at age 12. I can remember how I used to race my sister and best friend to the top of Cape Cod Hill - and the suffocating feeling at the very end. The shaking of my legs. And how strong and confident I felt. I also found out that I was not a great distance runner. That was hard for me - real distance - 10 miles and such.
But I was really fucking fast. And that made me feel strong and invincible. I continued to grow my athletic career on this speed. Much to my dismay I was never great like my sister. But I was fast - which lead to some really good things as a field hockey right wing and in the 100 yard dash. It has also helped as I have gotten older - once trapped (due to my husband's poor navigating) in a tunnel in Peru with a train coming - I tapped into that feeling ..and I remember from my youth the term "kick it back" when you really wanted to go your fastest. My husband is a strong runner and he said my speed made him uncomforbable. I love running fast. Sometimes I like to race kids for fun. I can't say the same about distance...don't have it in me. Lacking that perseverence. I still do sprints at the end of my runs now. Just to remind myself that I am indeed really fast.
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