running – Page 2 – Karen's New York Love Affair

Running into the mystic

I swear I was about to run through a rainbow today. There it was, just ahead of me, spanning from the North Shore across the Burrard Inlet and just to the right side of the trail I was running on. It was only about 500 metres away, tops. The colours were extremely bright, especially the reds and violets, and there was a double rainbow on the North Shore leg. Curiously, the colours of the second rainbow were arrayed in the opposite direction from the first rainbow. Have you ever noticed that? ROYGBIV and then VIBGYOR.

But I learned today that the sun runs faster than I do. For as I got closer, and I could see I’d already passed the landmark that the rainbow had landed on earlier, the rainbow kept moving away from me. Then the shoreline swung south, and suddenly the whole rainbow was on the left of the path. Then it was shining over Capital Hill in Burnaby. But I swear at first it was right over the path in front of me, and I was going to run through it!

I’m not sure how it kept moving farther away. I guess as the ball of the sun sinks it changes the angle and the light refracts through more distant clouds, just like the sunset colours in the clouds can move across the sky.

Ah well, it was a mystic run, and I am just about ready to take the plunge and sign up for the full marathon. Woohoo!! (Sorry, carryover from the Olympics!)

Vancouver marathon 2010, here I come!

I did it! As I mentioned previously, this past week was my last chance to get my act together for the Vancouver marathon 2010. It was a rest week, with 3 short runs, culminating with today’s 3 hour and 51 minute trial! That’s right—almost 4 hours of non-stop running. I didn’t even have to make a pit stop or stop 10 times to take rocks out of my shoes like on my last long run! (The secret was to wear thicker socks so the little devils couldn’t get in.)

This run was roughly 33 KM (probably a little under, but it was trail running, so the actual time to run 33 KM on roads would be less than the time I ran today). So I am back on track with the training schedule, and I’m aiming to tackle my first ever marathon on Sunday, May 2.

Today’s run was 35 minutes longer than I have ever run before! For the last part of the run I kept saying to myself, every step I take is farther than I’ve ever run before. It was really exciting! My last long run was 3 hours and 16 minutes. Today I got to feeling really tired after about 2 hours and 20 minutes, which makes sense because that’s about what my previous limit was over the past 3 years. So it was a real slog for quite a while, and I was very conscious of the fact that trail shoes would be better than the street shoes I was wearing. Every rock under my feet became painful after a few hours. (I noted to myself several times that I must get some trail shoes, but that’s also what I noted to myself on my last long run…)

As I was running along, feeling like I was barely moving, constantly on the lookout for lumps in the lumpy gravel, it occurred to me that I’d probably used up all the energy that was readily accessible. So I wondered how long it would take for my body to figure out how to get at the more deeply stored energy (that is, the fat deposits in my thighs and belly)! Now I was getting to the nitty gritty! I sensed these areas, trying to discover whether I could feel the fat being sucked out to be used as energy, but I couldn’t. I did have flashes of euphoric energy running up my back and into my head now and then. But for a very long time I was slogging, and feeling the assault on my feet.

At about the 3 hour mark I gave myself a nice pep-talk. I had run up to the Seymour Dam, and now was back at the northern end of Fisherman’s Trail. From here it was easy-peasy. A softer trail, mostly downhill (until I hit the Homestead Trail), and best of all, it was MY trail. I’d been on this stretch of the river trail many, many times. So even though I was soon going to go past my limit, since I was on the home stretch of familiar trails it seemed like it would be easy. I KNEW I could make it back. And believe it or not, it seemed like the trees and river along this stretch knew me too, and were sending me friendly energy.

A little later, I glanced at my watch and noticed it was 3:16—the time of my previous longest run. Slog, slog. But it was a bit easier because the trail wasn’t as rocky as the Spur 4 gravel road. Then suddenly, at 3:20, I was infused with energy. Without trying to, I was back to my normal running speed. Aha! So this is how long it took for those fat deposits to give it up! (About an hour.) Or maybe this is just what happens when I boldly go where I’ve never gone before!

In any case, this re-energization lasted for the remainder of my run. My legs felt a bit strange, to be sure, like they were in shock, but the speed was there. Even on the Homestead Trail—1 KM of pure uphill, with very steep sections—I kept up the new pace. In fact, I ran it faster than I usually do! This was from 3:26 to 3:37. And from here it was totally smooth sailing. The little leg of trail over to Lynn Valley Road seemed to vanish under my feet much more quickly than ever before. Across Lynn Creek, and up the road to the cul-de-sac where I’d parked, with the last three minutes on the flat road inside the gate to Lynn Headwaters Park. And I was done!

I let out a whoohoo and a few yeahs with arm punches. But that didn’t truly express the wonder of the moment. Only a coyote howl would do! AAOOOOOOO!! That shut up the little yappy dog nearby!

So I am going to put in my registration for the full marathon. I just have two more runs that are longer than today’s, and I am feeling confident that I can do it. No serious pain in the run or after. I’ll adapt my training a bit to fit with my new work schedule, probably cutting out the 13 KM runs on Wednesdays. That’s the plan, and I hope to see you there!

P.S. If you want to be notified when I make a post on this blog, there is an RSS feed in the footer at the very bottom of this page. Click the blue link that says Entries (RSS).

Chi running

Before I finish the story of my trip to California and the medicine walk I took, I want to tell you about the chi running workshop I went to last weekend. Angela James taught the workshop. She is the only certified chi running trainer in Vancouver. Danny and Katherine Dryer developed this method and wrote about it in ChiRunning: A Revolutionary Approach to Effortless, Injury-Free Running. Danny is an ultra-marathoner (running distances of up to 100 miles!!!), and also does T’ai Chi, an ancient martial art that works with our chi, or life force.

If you’ve never felt your chi and wonder what it is, try this simple exercise. Rub your hands together in a circular motion until you feel a lot of heat in your palms from the friction. Then hold your hands about an inch apart and sense the space between them. (You might want to close your eyes to allow your other senses to become more sensitive.) You might notice a “cushion” of air, which feels like a slight resistance if you bring your hands slightly closer to each other. Then gradually bring your hands further apart, feeling the energy between them, until they are so far apart that you no longer feel the energy. Then slowly bring your hands together and see what happens as they get closer. It might feel like the space between your hands gets denser as the energy concentrates when your hands come closer together. The energy between your hands is your chi, or life energy. Chi is also all around us, available for us to gather from the air, ground, and living plants.

With chi running, we can gather this chi while running to help energize us on long runs. I noticed I could do this while running through Stanley Park in the Vancouver half marathon—the trees definitely gave me energy in a way that concrete buildings on other parts of the route did not. And we can also replenish ourselves with chi at any time during the day (not just when running). T’ai Chi and another practice called Qigong teach ways for gathering and working with the energy, and opening the channels in our body to help it flow more freely. It is subtle energy, and you might not believe it even exists if you’ve never felt it, but hopefully the simple exercise I showed you will help you to feel it.

I first read the ChiRunning book about four years ago, and practicing the method helped me increase my capacity from the 10K distance to the half-marathon. The techniques show us how to run using the body mechanics most efficiently and effortlessly, allowing us to run long distances injury-free. Previously, pain where the IT band attaches to my left knee prevented me from running long distances. But using the chi running technique, in combination with my yoga practice, I was able to gradually and gently increase my distance from 10K to 21.2K!

So as you can imagine, I was very excited about going to the workshop and learning about the technique from an expert. The workshop was terrific, and I highly recommend it. Angela is a very supportive, skilled teacher. A few students she has coached were also there, offering their insights from the perspective of people who are still learning the techniques. We learned some of the “focuses”—specific techniques—indoors, and then went out on a track to practice them. I was amazed at how using these simple techniques really increased my speed. It was almost scary!

But afterwards, something funny happened. I didn’t want to go running. Hmm, what was going on? The next day was supposed to be my Sunday long run, but I didn’t go. I planned to do it Monday instead, but Monday came and went without a run. In the training program I am following to prepare for the Vancouver marathon this May (which will be my first full marathon!), it says never try to make up a missed run. So Tuesday I did a shorter run, just 56 minutes. And I realized I didn’t want to use what I had learned at the workshop. I didn’t want to mess with my comfortable, slow, plodding running style. I like to just go out and not think about running. I don’t want to go faster! I don’t want to change! Don’t harsh my mellow!

I had my worst running week ever, totally blowing off the training schedule. I only ran three times, though I did do a long run of 2 hours and 40 minutes on Wednesday. But I still didn’t want to try the new techniques.

This experience taught me something about learning, and about the ego. The ego does not want to change, not really, even though we might think we want to change. There are calcified structures within us that keep us going in a familiar groove, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings. It takes a huge amount of effort to carve new neural pathways in the brain, which is part of the process of learning a new behaviour. We have to have a lot of motivation and focus in order to persist with this. It is hard to go out of our comfort zones and into new unknown territory. Why, even getting up early on a Saturday and going to the workshop was hard to do, and created an irritable resistance within me that I had to overcome!

So I’m going to give myself a break with the running. I intend to practice what I’ve learned for short periods during a run now and then, but most of the time I will just let myself be. And I think that when things start to get hard in the marathon, that occasional practice of new techniques will pay off. I’ll have some new things to try, to keep myself interested during the 4+ hours of the run. But more importantly, running with the new methods will use my muscles slightly differently, giving me a rest and allowing me to go beyond the limits that my comfortable old style has.

#1 tip from the workshop

Chi running uses the principle of “cotton and steel.” Imagine a needle in a ball of cotton wool. This is what our body can be like when we’re running. The needle is the spine and the core abdominal muscles of our body. The cotton is everything else: our legs, butt, lower back, arms, hands, feet.

Steel: To embody this while running, draw your spine up really long, lifting your head up off your neck (keeping the back of your neck long and tall). Draw your belly in ever so slightly. This engages the core muscles. The long spine and resilient, engaged core muscles provide the steel—the support the body needs to glide effortlessly along, hour after hour.

Cotton: Now let the rest of your body totally relax. I love the feeling of letting go and noticing the muscles in my back loosen and let go like a liquid, from the waist and butt down all the way through my legs to my feet. It feels amazing to let all these muscles totally relax, and to trust that they know what to do in response to the changes of the terrain—I don’t have to do anything. Try this the first time when going downhill, and you will be amazed at the feeling of lightness and freedom!

Red wheel rolling

I was driving over the Second Narrows bridge tonight, feeling high from a run by and skinny dip in the Seymour River. It was dusk, but the street lights hadn’t come on yet on the north side of the bridge. I was groovin’ on Led Zeppelin, as I am wont to do after running in the mountains. Feeling fine. I was listening to Led Zep IV, which I just picked up on CD recently. The song was what some say is the best rock’n’roll song ever, Stairway to Heaven—though my personal fave of all time has got to be Gimme Shelter by the Stones—and I was feelin’ the magic. I crested the bridge and the key to the universe was revealed once again:

And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock, and not to roll, and not to roll, don’t make me roll…

Oh wait, that’s the live version off The Song Remains the Same. I often insert the live bits when I belt out the lyrics in the privacy of my own car. And I was really getting into it tonight!

Anyway, just as I was reflecting that the answer to the mystery of the universe was to be a rock and not to roll, I saw the most amazing thing. A red wheel was rolling along in my lane. It must have been doing about 70. I was doing about 80 and passed it. It was about 6″ high, and rolling right down the lane! And it was red! And it was rolling!

What does this mean? Could Led Zeppelin have been wrong after all? Is this a sign that the key to the universe is to roll, not to be a rock?!! And if so, how do I do that? Turn cart wheels? Roll in the hay? Play roulette? Rolling actually sounds a lot more fun than being a rock, which doesn’t get to do much but sit there and wait for a glacier to come along!

Wild women run with bears

The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears. (The worst thing is the cell reception, but I won’t go into that now.) It has not happened often that I’ve had the chance to run with bears here—only a few times in nine years—but it happened today.

I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!

This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!

I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!

At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.

On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!

I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.

But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.

I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!

When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.

Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.

We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.

There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.

Running the Berlin Wall

One of the coolest things I did in Berlin was go for a run along the Berlin Wall. Kirsten lives in East Berlin, so I ran west along Pariser Kommune Allee until I came to Muhlenstrasse, and there it was! The Berlin Wall! How cool is that! To go for a run and come upon the Berlin Wall!

A segment of the wall has been retained as a memorial, and many artists have created idealistic artwork to commerate the opening of the wall, creating a living piece of artwork called the East Side Gallery. As usual, it was already dark out when I set out on my run. Yet there were quite a few people strolling along looking at the artwork, and some were taking group and individual photos of each other against the wall. It was very moving, to see this 10-foot high edifice that had broken hearts and families. It seemed so strange to imagine it. What is the point!? Some people on one side of the wall, some people on the other side. It is only 10 feet high so it’s possible to see over the wall in many areas. They could wave at each other.

One side must have been grey and bleak, and the other side full of colour and shiny bright commercial baubles. But frankly, in light of the environmental devastation caused by the western consumer culture, I found myself favouring the Communist idealism, as I ran along beside the wall, looking at the graffiti-covered artwork. Then I remembered that Communist Russia also has created a huge amount of pollution, especially with nuclear waste from their abandoned atomic submarines. Communist or Capitalist, we all bear responsibility for the shape the earth is in today.

I ran for quite a while, following the wall, dodging around the photo-takers, looking at the art both old and new, hoping to see the famous image of fellow communists Erich Honecker and Leonid Brezhnev kissing each other on the mouth, when suddenly there was a break in the wall, showing the no-man’s land between the wall and the Spree River. And what do you think I saw there? A gigantic flat-screen TV billboard displaying a picture of Lionel Ritchie! What a shock! Across the road I saw a gigantic bubble-shaped building, called O2 World. I learned it is an entertainment complex, and Lionel will be playing there in April. This is the fruits of the wall coming down. East Berlin gets to see Lionel Ritchie. And, in June, the Eagles! May all Berliners experience a peaceful, easy feeling. Ich bin ein Berliner, ja!

It’s dark in the park in Berlin

$O\'Horten$ I approached the theatre and saw there were posters along the wall at street-level, with the movie theatre entrance up a flight of stairs and the theatre towering several stories above that. The posters showed Australia—a Nicole Kidman pic whose posters I’d seen everywhere, including Amsterdam, Prague, and Berlin. Very Hollywood! But look—an offbeat poster showing a man with a moustache holding a very large dog in his arms, with the the words “Cannes Selection something something.” The movie was called O’Horten, by Bent Hamer, the director of Kitchen Stories (a weird Norwegian movie which I’d seen and loved). My kind of movie! The other posters showed a selection of horror movies, action flicks, and kids films. I left satisfied, knowing there was something I would enjoy seeing, here in Berlin. This was comforting to me—the familiar world of movies still existed in this strange place.

I ran on through the rain and came to another corner, Danziger, where there was a Mobil station set off in the Volkspark Friedrichshain. This struck me as odd, but I noted the price—1.09 Euros per litre (about $1.80 Canadian) and continued along Danziger, always keeping the park at my right. It was 35 minutes into the run now, and I was sure I was coming near to the starting point. The next corner was Landsberger Allee, and it was more commercial. The park disappeared and there was a giant sports complex called SEZ on my right. I didn’t know if anyone used it, for it was dark (closed at this hour on Christmas Eve), and the building had a lot of graffitti on it. But I saw there was a blowling alley—10 Euros—ball sports, massage. After the end of the building there was a little street going right, back towards the park, so I followed it, through a desolate area with tram tracks carved into the pavement, between bleak-looking apartment buildings, and then came to a road with a T sign.

I followed this, passing a woman walking a small dog, and came back to the park. The way led into the park now—which I had hoped to avoid—but I also hoped it would lead straight back to the starting point. The paved path was lined with orange street lights, and I kept to the left whenever the walkway branched, so as to keep the bulk of the park to my right. There were some ominous-looking buildings looming in the darkness on my left, which I later learned was a Krankenhaus (krank means sick, and this was a hospital).

I seemed to have entered a very unfamiliar area that looked nothing like the brightly-lit boulevard I had started out on. At the next turn in the path the street lights changed to white globes. The path cut between wooded hills and as I descended between them I felt I had entered Narnia. After another minute or so my tolerance for the unknown reached its limit. It was 45 minutes into the run. With each step I was increasing the distance back to Kirsten’s apartment. I lost my trust in my sense of direction that this road would lead back to where I’d started. I was afraid I’d entered the twilight zone, and everything had changed and I’d never find my way back. So I turned around and went back the way I came.

Coming out of the park I was worried I’d lose my way and be lost running around the park all night, so I was very relieved to come back to the T sign and the tram tracks. I read all the street signs as I retraced my route, alarmed to discover an entire segment of road between Danziger and Friedrichshain that I’d failed to note. The rain had stopped now, and I noticed the cheer of the apartments along Friedrichshain, lit by strings of Christmas lights. On the ground floor was a restaurant, glowing orange, each table lit with candles, a server looking out the window. Not a single patron had come to eat there on Christmas Eve, but perhaps they’d just opened and were expecting a big reservation. People got into parked cars with packages, and suddenly there was a more festive holiday feeling in the air.

It’s amazing how much more quickly the second half of a run in a new place feels, when I am retracing the journey and some things feel familiar—the movie theatre, a brick paved half-circle park entrance, the steet sign at the corner of Friedrichshain and Friedenstrasse, the pink concession stand building. Without fear and uncertainty slowing my steps I made it back to Kirsten’s in just 31 minutes!

Later I checked her map and found that in another 200 meters or so the park path I was on rejoined Landsberger Allee and from there it was just a few hundred meters to the starting point. The side trip into the park was a loop that went into the park and rejoined Landsberger farther up. Fear had stopped me from completing the circuit—which was not an even rectangle but more like a diamond shape—but I finished it a few days later, in the daylight, when we returned from our Christmas excursion to Prague. The seond time it took 40 minutes to do the complete journey from Kirsten’s to the park, all the way around the park, and back to Kirsten’s.

Looking back from the safety and comfort of my home in Vancouver, where everything is quite familiar, it seems that runs in a new place are the most fun and exciting. Everything is unknown and fresh, and it is great when things get a little scary at times. I feel a curiousity and aliveness about discovering the new place, whether in a city or in the wilderness. And running allows me to cover a good distance fairly quickly, so I can really get a sense of the terrain, and learn the land with my feet. But let me tell you, when I was afraid I was lost, in the dark in a scary park in East Berlin, I felt like a fool, not a wild woman.

Returning home I also found out that what I expected to be a minor park, covering one city block, is the oldest and second-largest park in Berlin, covering 52 hectares, and built in 1840 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Frederick the Great’s accession to the Prussian throne. Although I couldn’t see this in the dark, it is filled with statuary, monuments, playgrounds, and delightful vistas. It is really true that we create our own reality, based on our history. And this might not always be such a bad thing—I guess I like the feeling of being afraid in the unknown, my imagination running away with me. I’m glad I hadn’t read all about the park on the web site first, and seen it on a map. It was good to discover it on my own, directly with my senses, even if I was viewing it through the filters of my history.

Wild women run in the dark in Berlin

I arrived in Berlin about 10 PM (after travelling 22 hours), and spent a lot of the next day sleeping. It was dark by the time I was ready for my first run, at about 5 PM. So my first run in Berlin was after dark, with the temperature around 0° C.

I knew there was a park at the end of my sister Kirsten’s street, about a 5-minute walk away, so I went in that direction, north along Friedenstrasse, and came to the Volkspark Friedrichshain. I decided not to go into the park but just to run around it, so I wouldn’t get lost. I headed to the left, and went about 100 yards when I remembered my wilderness training about staying found, and I back-tracked my steps to Friedenstrasse, memorizing landmarks including two round pods that I imagined were drop-off points for used clothing (but I later discovered are for recycling different colours of glass) and the cross-walk with four stretches, each with separate pedestrian signals, to traverse the busy wide street with three lanes in either direction and a tram line in the middle. On the side closest to the park there was a small pink building with a counter where someone was selling snacks, by the entrance to the park.

Satisfied that I would recognize this point when I came back around to it, I set out in a clockwise direction, around what I imagined was a square park of about one city block, like I’d seen in San Francisco and Vancouver. I could see lights through the trees where I thought the edges of the park were, and estimated that one circuit of the park would take about 9 minutes. I looked at my running watch and saw that at this point I was 9 minutes into the run.

The buildings along Friedenstrasse, in East Berlin, had seemed very massive, square and heavy—bleak and menacing. There was a massive brick church at the end of the graveyard, with a huge square tower that looked like a crematorium to me, and next to it an abandoned factory with a smokestack stretching several stories into the sky. The buildings across from the park also seemed to be very big, squat, and bleak, though they were apartment buildings. There was a lot of graffiti everywhere, which Kirsten told me was a big problem in Berlin. I wondered if it was a symptom of cultural trauma from World War II and the subsequent splitting of Berlin that had never been healed.

The park on my right reminded me of the landscape I’ve seen in Poland near Auschwitz—the bare trees with tangled branches and the low clouds overhead, as well as the feeling of bleakness. The broad sidewalk I was running on had two sections of concrete paving stones set in a diamond pattern, with a reddish cobble-stone path in between them. I imagined the smooth part was reserved for cyclists, but the walk was deserted at this time of day so I ran on the smooth section.

I came to the first corner in a few minutes, and went up to the street signs to read them, so I wouldn’t get lost. To my surprise the stretch of road I was on was called Friedenstrasse—peaceful street—Kirsten’s street had bent at a sharp angle when it met the park. The new street was Friedrichshain, which I later learned is the name of that district of Berlin—a more funky, fun, artistic, part of Berlin, with many restaurants, cafes, and boutiques. Even on this quiet residential street there was a different feeling, which I didn’t notice at first because it began to rain very heavily. I ran on, into the groove now (it usually takes me about 14 minutes to warm up.) I saw a neon sign across the street, Theatre am Friedrichshain; there were two people ahead at the bus stop. I ran to the intersection and crossed at the light, running through a wide river of rain water that had collected along the edge of the street; I wanted to see what was playing! To be continued…

Wild women run

On a vision fast last year I claimed my big, wild woman self.

But desert ritual is just the beginning of integrating a new identity that goes counter to the training to be my parents’ obedient, pretty girl, smiling for the camera. And counter to our society’s messages about what women are supposed to be: compassionate, loving, quiet, small. There isn’t much room for wild women. But luckily, we have the strength and power to make room. To stand up, speak out. Anyway, I am still learning to let my wild woman run free.

I was at a half marathon on Sunday, and she ran with me. She shouted out “Woohoo, 10K!” at the half-way mark. And I heard a woman behind me tell her female friend “She’s got way too much energy.”

I know suppressive bullshit when I hear it, and this comment made me mad. Mad enough to beat my previous time by 8 minutes. Mad enough to run harder than I’ve ever run. Which is one way to use that energy.

But is this what a wild woman would do?

My wild woman shouted Replacements song lyrics when they popped into her head. At first, when these lyrics arose, she kept it to herself. But after the 10K mark, she’d had enough of suppressing her fun life energy. She shouted out “Take me down, to the hospital!” at the medics in the ambulance at the side of the road. And “Red light, red light, run it. Ain’t nobody watching, run it!”

And each time she broke the rules, stood out from the crowd, let herself express what was moving through her, a new surge of energy propelled her on. Real strength. Real expansion, right through the top of her head. Right into the quiet simplicity of nothingness.

My exploration into what it means to be a wild woman continues. For the record, she did it in 2:00:28!