Channeling The Tarahumara

In the book Born to Run by Christopher McDougall, which I referenced in a previous blog, he tells the story of a tribe of people that live in the mountains of Mexico. For these people, running is a passion and a way of life. They don't organize 10K's or marathons. Running is how they get around, and there is a pure joy for them in running.

I thought about these people on my recent trip to Mexico. This was a much needed vacation for me, and my plan was to try and get a couple of treadmill training runs in at the hotel in Cancun, where I stayed on the first and last nights of my trip. For the rest of my time in Tulum, I planned to take time off from training and continue to rest a couple of injuries that were starting to get a little better. In other words, I was going to minimize the chore of running while I was on vacation. I mean, who wants to spend their beach vacation working out? The word "work" is right in the phrase.

Not the watch tower we could see
from the beach, but there was one
at each corner, and the one I saw
looked just like this.

I arrived in Tulum to an absolutely beautiful white sand beach and a turquoise Caribbean sea. On the first morning, my friend and I walked the length of our beach, and we found that it ended a little over a mile and a quarter down the beach, at a cliff, upon which stood a Mayan watch tower. We had known that our hotel was relatively close to the Mayan ruins at Tulum, but to happen upon one of them from our beach was pretty darned cool.

When we arrived back at the hotel, my friend informed me that she was going to do a beach run, and as she said it, the idea sounded pretty cool. First of all, I could test out this whole barefoot running thing. Second, the weather was just cool enough to make it not too hot and unbearable to "work out".  

I got on my running gear (sans shoes, of course), strapped on my heart rate monitor and set out. In my mind, this was going to be one of my required training runs that I could get out of the way so I could relax and enjoy my vacation. I had a whole plan for interval training ready to go.  I was worried because I didn't have my music, but if worse came to worst, I could just walk.  I walked down the stairs to the beach, and I started my run.



The barefoot runner.

And then a funny thing happened. The hip injuries that I had been dealing with seemed to disappear after a couple of minutes. With each step, I could feel the sand between my toes and the warm Caribbean water lap at my ankles. I became very aware of the beauty of this place I was in, and I stopped thinking about my breathing or optimal heart rate. I was so glad to not have music so I could just drink in the whole experience. I just ran, and I think at one point, I even smiled. When I got to the turnaround and saw the Mayan watch tower on the cliff, I thought about the Tarahumara from the book, and I felt the pure joy of running.

I did that run - a little over 2 miles round trip - every single day I was in Tulum. That wasn't part of my training schedule, but that's not why I was doing it. I did it because it was joyful and such a great way to start my day.

Now I'm back in Seattle, where there is no white sand beach, no Caribbean sea out my front door, no Mayan ruin watching over me. How could I bring that joy of running back with me?

The answer came simply last Sunday. It was my friend Janna's 40th birthday, and she celebrated by running a half marathon. She is doing the marathon with me in June along with three other friends, and we all joined her on her birthday, a few of us doing the 10K instead due to our various injuries. But that allowed us to be there when she crossed the finish line, in just under two hours (1:58 to be exact), and I'm glad I didn't miss that.



My friend Janna at the end of
the half marathon.

As she glided across the finish line, she had this huge smile on her face. Not like the early finishers who looked pained and some who even got sick. She was joyful. Tired, but joyful at the accomplishment, happy to spend her birthday running 13.1 miles. She had channeled the spirit of the Tarahumara right here in Seattle. 

So as I continue to train for the marathon and sometimes struggle, I'll be able to think back on those beach runs in Mexico and the joy I felt.  But as those memories grow more distant, I'll be able to find the spirit of the Tarahumara in Janna and my other friends training with me for the marathon.

Another Setback...But Also a Lesson Learned

February was a tough month for me training-wise.  As in, I didn't do much of it.  The person who never gets sick (me) got a terrible upper respiratory infection that sidelined her for three weeks, and it's really only now in the sixth week since getting ill that I'm feeling 100% again with my breathing.  There was a benefit to the time off, though, and it's that I had the opportunity to rest my injured left hip flexor.  The rest, combined with some physical therapy during that time to restrengthen the muscle, seems to have helped, and I'd say it's at about 90%. 

Great news, right?  I could jump right back into the training and pick up where I left off and I'd still be on target for the marathon in June.  Except that I found out it doesn't work that way, and just to remind me of that, now my right hip is messed up, probably bursitis. 

I thought that much of the challenge of training for a marathon was going to be mental.  Running 26.2 miles isn't just a physical endeavor.  You have to contend with the aches and pains and the walls you will hit during the run.  It's why the phrase "it's a marathon, not a sprint" exists.  It's like a little microcosm of life, complete with ups, downs, failures and triumphs.  And training for a marathon is the same way.

When I started this blog, I said that part of putting my story out there was to hold me accountable and make sure I do this.  I didn't want to have any excuse to quit when it got hard mentally.  I wanted to weather the ups and downs and ultimately triumph.  What I didn't know was that the mental challenges would not be my only challenges.  I had no idea that my body might not cooperate.  I had never had injuries due to athletic activity.  I figured my only hurdles would be mental, and I spent all my time preparing for those.

So what is this lesson that I've learned?  That I'm old and my body might not hold up the way it did when I was 30-something?  No.  In fact, the lesson I learned is that the best laid plans sometimes don't work out the way I want or expect them to....and it's okay.  That second part, that's the part I learned.  That it's okay if things outside my control - like a physical injury (or a boyfriend dumping me unexpectedly over the phone) - mean that I have to do the half-marathon instead of the full (or that I have to sign up for Match.com yet again).  That it's how I react to the setback that matters, by accepting it and by not making it mean something negative about me.

I guess I've had to learn this lesson before (recently, even), but I admit that I've never been great at accepting when my plans don't work out.  I've never been great at letting go.  And that's what this is.  Letting go of something and not feeling like a failure that it didn't work out.  Accepting what is and making the best of the situation.  That is the gift I've gotten from this experience.

Now, before you ask, I have every intention of doing the marathon in June.  I hope to resume my training as soon as I rest this latest injury, and I will do everything in my power to prevent further injuries by stretching, using the evil foam roller, buying new shoes and even trying barefoot running.  I really want to accomplish this goal more than anything.

But if my physical limitations prevent me from being able to run 26.2 miles on June 12th, then I'll run 13.1 miles on June 12th and celebrate the accomplishment just as happily.  And then I'll sign up for another marathon at a later date and hope that my hips hold up for that one.