The Week Without Running

This week I took my second sick day of the year, and the third of my lifetime.  Yes, I consider myself to be indestructible, and when I do get sick I go to work anyway.

Last Saturday I woke up with burning lungs, like the feeling you get after you’ve inhaled caustic cleaner (been there, done that).  “No!” I said, “I can’t be sick.  I have a 5K.”  Cue browsing articles on ‘should you run while sick,’ of which there was no unanimous conclusion.  So, I said ‘to heck with it,’ went to the drugstore and bought the highest-powered lozenges I could find.  Back in the car, I popped one in my mouth.

My tongue went numb.

“What the heck is in these things?”  I flipped over the box.  Hmm, Benzocaine.  Isn’t that what they use to freeze your mouth at the dentist?

Well, you don’t need to feel your tongue to run.  So off I went to the race.

I almost burned out in the last mile.  My lungs hurt so bad, and I had to force my oxygen-deprived muscles to keep firing.  My time was lackluster, but I made it.

Monday, I went running again.  Tuesday I was still sick, and on Wednesday I was dragging myself around work like a zombie.  I decided to call it a day and go to the walk-in clinic.  Chest X-rays and EKG’s and blood work couldn’t tell the doctor what was wrong with me.  “You have a virus,” he said.

I could have told myself that.  At least I wasn’t dying.  I’d already been imagining the end of my running ‘career’ because I had scarring of the lungs, or a hole in my heart, or something (just making up stuff, here).

So this week has been one of extra sleep, extra writing, and extra Harry Potter watching.  After much self-lecturing, I’ve decided I’m sick.  No speed-work midweek.  No long run on the weekend.  I’m getting antsy.  Based on the way my chest feels right now, I might collapse midway.  But it’s autumn in Manitoba, and that means six months of winter are almost here, and if I don’t enjoy the snow-free roads now, I won’t get to!

Argh.

Someone tie me down, or hide my sneakers.

Not a Moment to Waste!

“I’m afraid to die before I’ve really lived,” he said.

Funny the things you talk about on late shifts.  We stood over our tank of coating suspension, the peristaltic pump chugging the soupy, white mixture from one tank to the other.  I don’t know why we were talking about death–death by drowning, death by fire.

I paused.  In my hand, the hose bucked and splattered goop on the shiny steel receiving tank.  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”  But in my head I thought, but how do you know that you’ve really lived?  As I thought over my twenty-four years, I realized that I’d packed lots into them.  I’ve travelled, I’ve graduated from college, I’ve written a book.  But had I really lived?

A couple weeks later, a school friend’s nineteen year old brother died in a drowning accident, and it brought the subject back to my mind.  My own brothers were going out to the lake, and inwardly I shouted don’t go!  I want to keep you here!

I suspect that the years we have are never enough once they’re gone.  I had twelve happy years with my Grandma (Mom’s mom) before she died of cancer.  But when I think about her I remember that, the last day I saw her healthy and alert, I spent playing video games.  Would that one more day have been enough?  No.

It annoys me that people say “Two more days until Friday.”  When I catch myself saying “My shift is half over,” I rebuke myself.  Heck, we spend tens of thousands of hours at our jobs, but we’re so eager to just get them over with.  My Grandma (Dad’s mom) told me, today, that the older you get, the faster they go.  It’s like being pinned to a railway car, flying downhill toward a brick wall (she didn’t say that–I did).  But we are unmindful.  We try to make our railcar go faster!

What are the chances we get to the end of our lives and decide we’ve ‘really lived’?

I’m realizing that I need to be a heck of a lot more deliberate with my time.  I’ve got to dream, then make goals, and then work my butt off before my railcar reaches the bottom of the hill.

Dan Waldschidmt said “We all want that extra 6.25 years of conquest.  But when we have a zillion minute by minute considerations just to decide whether to stay in bed or get up and ‘conquer,’ most of us choose comfort.  It seems small at the time–after all, it’s just one hour.  But the results are life changing.  Literally.  The decisions that you make hundreds of times a day build your future.  They all count.”

I’m not doing well in this area right now.  After the release of We are the Living, I hit a big-time slump.  I’ve yet to pull out entirely.  My blogging has been sporadic.  I have little interest in social networking.  I don’t feel like writing.  My new project has been neglected for days at a time.

It’s time to kick my own butt.  If I can make myself go running after an exhausting workday, when my knees hurt, or when it’s cold and raining, I guess I can make myself write (do what I love!).

There isn’t a moment to waste, is there?

 

Running Childhood Roads

Last night I ran around a section near my childhood home (a section being a square mile of land).  I parked my car at my former church and warmed up in the silent parking lot.  The sun blazed in my eyes as I huffed and puffed the first mile.  As usual, I wondered why I was torturing myself again.  But I settled into a nice, easy rhythm, and turned the corner onto the next mile road and into the shade.  The humid air sunk in around me, redolent with sweet poplar sap.

How many times have I driven these roads?  First, in the back of Mom’s minivan to and from Grandma’s house, and church.  Then, I’d drive myself to youth group and early morning music practices.  I know them so well, but on foot they are unfamiliar.  Which houses have dogs that might chase?  The roads are silent, and I can hear the slightest crash in the bush.  Probably a deer, or a bird, but what else?

“I’ve become such a city girl,” I lament.

Runkeeper tells me I’ve travelled two miles.  I begin the third side of my square.  The sun has sunk behind the trees, still sweat trickles from the knot of hair on the back of my head.  I look up as I pass by the faded red barn, and the complacent cattle on the corner.  Three miles.  I turn the corner, and can see the ancient evergreens by the church, one mile away.  There are dead garter snakes on the road, and I imagine that they raise their heads and nip at my heels as I go past.  I close the square, and walk back to my car.

As I showered off at Mom and Dad’s place, I realized just how absurd this seemed.  Never, in my childhood years, would I have dreamt about running those gravel paths.  They seemed too far to go, even on a bicycle.

Times, they are a changing.  I contemplate which miles to combine to run a 10K, or even a half marathon, and I smile.  Maybe that is not so impossible after all.

10 Things I’m Thankful For

In a few hours it will be my birthday.

I’ve been absent from the blogosphere this week, due to the pendulum swing of my schedule.  While on day shifts, I try to make up for the lack of social life while I’m working evenings.  My brain has been packed, and much of what I’ve come up with to write is so snarky I don’t dare infect you with it.

So, in hopes of soothing my soul and inspiring you, I’d like to share ten things I’m thankful for–at the dawn of my 24th year.

In no particular order…

1. Strawberry the Car

This week I’ve logged a lot of miles in my magic carpet.  I picked up the print edition of We are the Living from the courier (an hour and fifteen minutes away), I went to dinner with two college friends, and before the week is out, Strawberry’s little wheels will take me to my second 5K race.  Since I got my own car (after 5 years of waiting) I’ve been granted a whole new level of freedom.  I’m grateful for that.

2. A job that challenges me.

I’ve worked at the pharmaceutical plant for a year and a half now, and the job has yet to get easy.  That’s perfect, even if it is frustrating at times (like today).  As long as it keeps me learning I won’t get bored or stagnate.

3. I work in pyjamas all day!

Scrubs, actually, but they’re just as comfortable.  Some people don’t like wearing a uniform, but I wouldn’t change it.  They’re loose, modest, and save on laundry.

4. Coffee

Mmm… coffee.

5. Autumn is coming

Now, this also means that winter is coming, which in Manitoba is a six-month affair… but let’s not think that far.  I look forward to the crisp air, the falling leaves, and pumpkin everything–except those fake pumpkin syrup things every coffee shop hawks at us.  Ew!  Pumpkin cheesecake (sugar free, low carb) is on the birthday menu tomorrow.

6. Stevia

The secret to healthy living, as far as I’m concerned.

7. Coworkers who are also friends.

I’ve had some excellent coworkers over the last three years, and I’m pleased to still call many of them friends.  Work is so much better with them!

8. WiFi at home

Wow, what a relief to not have to drive, walk or bike to find WiFi!  As a blogger, it was getting a bit ridiculous.  I was single-handedly supporting every coffee shop in town, I think.

9. The Electric Donkey

Also known as my next 5K race, and what has been motivating me for the last month.  I’m so excited!

10. My family

We’ve had some wonderful visits lately.  Our bonfire pit has added another six inches of ash to its layers, I think.  They’re the best people to hang out and drink coffee with on a Saturday evening, and I look forward to celebrating my birthday with them tomorrow.  I’ll bring the cheesecake!

So tell me?  What are you thankful for?  Feel free to comment with your own lists.

 

 

My First 5K Race… Is it even called a race?

There was never a less epic race, but in my head it was a huge deal.

I’m still not sure a 5K is called a race, but friends have called it a marathon to which I would always say “It’s not a marathon!”

“So what do you call it?” they’d ask.

“I dunno. A race?”

The night before I watched Inception, and then tried to go to bed early. I couldn’t sleep—first because I was thinking and rethinking through the complicated storyline of Inception, and then because I was so dang amped up about the ‘race’ the next day. I got up before my six o’clock alarm and put on my gear.  In 45 minutes, I was driving Strawberry down the deserted road to the rural village where the 5K would take place.  My coffee churned in my stomach.

I got there far too early, but Grandpa was already there. If you’ve read my other posts about running, you might remember that Grandpa was the original runner in the family. He ran several full marathons, even in his sixties, and ran competitively into his seventies. He is highly active in the Manitoba Runners’ Association. So he’s pretty pleased that I’ve taken up the sport, to say the least.

He started advising me almost as soon as I stepped out of the car. “People are going to take off like a shot,” he said, “You just start out at a reasonable pace. You can pick them off later when they’re tired.”

I’d be lucky to, I thought.

Verna, who’d been my training partner by correspondence, showed up and we expressed our collective nervousness. I went through my usual stretching routine. There was still twenty minutes until the race began. I shivered from the cool morning breeze, and buckets of nervous energy.

Then, they called for us to come to the start. I shoved my headphone in my ear and began my tailored ‘Race Day’ playlist. They shouted out instructions for the course, but I couldn’t hear them. Then an air horn went off.

Oh! They’re starting? Okay. Off I go!

I set off at a lope, my heart pounding. People were passing me. I was panting in a hundred yards, bursting with adrenaline. Oh no, Oh no! went off in my head.

Easy. Settle down. Settle down. It’s okay. It’s just another run. Just another run. I settled into ‘cruising speed’ and found a rhythm.

One kilometre in, I could hear someone gasping for air behind me. I felt good—no fatigue, no burning in the lungs. Two kilometres, I passed someone who was walking. Just like Grandpa said, I picked off a couple of runners—and got picked off by a couple of runners. I was feeling really good.

Am I running too fast? Should I slow down? No, I can slow down later!

Around 3K, I passed a chick who was walking. As soon as I passed, she started running and passed me. A minute later, she was walking again. I passed her and never saw her again.

I turned the corner at the 4K sign and decided to pick up the pace just a little. Then, suddenly, I felt tired. Was there nothing left in the tank? Darn it!

But then I saw the corner before the finish, a turn into the school yard. Beyond it was the parking lot, and there was my family’s SUV. They were there to see me finish! I made the corner and sped up. There was the finish. I saw my family. I saw the clock. It was under my goal time. I broke into a dead run, ran past my family, and pumped my fist as I crossed the line.

And now it’s over.

I realize that ‘real’ runners can do so much more. There are people out there who can run 5K in half the time I did. When I realized this, I felt a bit depressed. I remind myself I’m a writer, ultimately, not a runner. That’s my call, as best I know it. But if I think that at the beginning of the summer I would have laughed at the thought of running 5K, or that six weeks ago I thought ten minutes was a long stretch to run, well… I’m floored.  Honestly, I still feel like a poser.

I started a new running program today, and I have another 5K in three weeks.  I’m not sure where this is taking me, but I’m excited to find out!

I Did It! I Completed Couch to 5K.

I ran 5 kilometres for the first time this week.

It was awful.  But I’m so proud.  I began running eight weeks ago.  That day I ran 6, 1 minute intervals.  I had such an intense stitch in my side that I thought I was going to keel over.  That whole week I wobbled around the factory on rubber legs.  By the next week, I was running 2.5 minute intervals and feeling stronger.  Three weeks ago, I ran my first mile.

As I walked home from my run that day,  I reflected on why I was doing this.

When I was in my early teens, I was at a youth conference with members of my church.  One of the chaperones met a friend there, and they planned to go for a run.  One of my friends was tagging along and I, desperate to be accepted, said “Sure.  I’ll come too.”  How hard could it be?  I was left behind in less than a minute, humiliated and unable to continue.

That Saturday, my first mile run behind me, I said “This mile’s for you,” to my friend and my chaperone.  I could keep up with them, but it was too late.

I said “this mile’s for you,” to my peers who were always faster and more athletic than me, who I couldn’t keep up with and finally gave up on.

I said “this mile’s for you,” to my Grandpa, who ran competitively well into his seventies, until an injury took him out of the sport. He now organizes races with the Manitoba Runners’ Association, and coached me through my training.

I run my first 5K race on August 17th.  My Grandpa and my family will be there to cheer me on as I cross the finish line.  Today, in the last half-kilometre of my run, I pictured their faces and heard them yelling “Go Geralyn.”  I imagined getting a surge of energy, and picking up speed as I crossed the finish.  I almost began to cry.

Running on my parents’ acreage

I’ve learned this over the past months: the power of seeing the end at the beginning.  “Greater things are yet to come,” I’d say to myself on one of my three-minute runs.  Running, which is truly only a small thing, became a romantic battle, a fight between myself and my tired legs, my burning lungs, and the lure of the couch after a long day of work.

If I can do this, I can do so much more.

Right I don’t plan on increasing the distance of my runs.  I’d rather run 5K a little faster than run 10K.  5K is still too painful to want to run twice as long!  But I’ll never say never.  These two months have also taught me that.  Because I shouldn’t be doing this.  I’m built like a Clydesdale, not built a gazelle.  I’m artsy, not athletic.  I’ve never played sports.  But here I am.  I probably won’t ever win a race, but I hope that others will look at my tiny example and be inspired to try something that, by rights, they shouldn’t be able to do.

 

Must We All Grow Up to be Humbugs? 5 Fun Things Challenge Wrap-Up.

Will I eventually become a boring adult?

I fear it is inevitable.

You know the ones.  They spend 80% of their lives on their butts.  The other 20% is spent shopping or mowing their front lawn.  They go to work via the Tim Horton’s drive through, and then come home through the same coffee-filled avenue.  They spend the evening in front of the TV, or on better days, at their son’s hockey game.  They’d never lift a finger to play a game.  They’d rather die than run.

They probably would die if they tried to run.

They talk about their deteriorating health and bash their bosses, and they think Tim Horton’s makes good coffee because they haven’t had anything else in two years.

I’m painting with a brush as wide as a football field.  I know.  But that is who I fear becoming.

When I was a kid, it bewildered me why the adults I knew only wanted to sit around and visit with each other.  Why would they never, ever participate in the fun game that we had going?  I realize now that adults are tired folk.  And why not?  Many work a minimum of forty hours a week and then come home, cook dinner, and do laundry.  Most of them eat absolute garbage, and don’t have time to exercise, and can’t sleep because they’ve had too much Tim Horton’s.  They spend every evening taxiing their kids to soccer and ballet and piano lessons.  I know this is because they want to give their kids the best shot at life, but I fear they’re living their lives vicariously through their kids because they gave up on their dreams long ago.

If that’s what it means to grow up, I don’t want to do it.

I’ve come to the end of my 5 Fun Things Challenge.  I ended the challenge on an 11 hour work day, which admittedly makes fun a little more difficult.  It’s fitting.  Most of my days are work days, so I need to learn to make them fun.  I’m a grown-up now.

Day 3, Monday:

I went to Folklorama and visited the Chilean pavilion.  I enjoyed lively music, sublime singing, and dancing that was a mix of courtly and all-out love for life.  The empanadas and drinks were good too. 🙂

Day 4, Tuesday:

I had to wear a respirator to spray caustic cleaner, so I breathed like Darth Vader.  Disclaimer: laughing under a half-mask respirator may break the seal.

I caught a ride on a pallet as it went by.  Then I got scared and jumped off.

I watched this video and giggled like a maniac in McDonalds.  If you don’t have time to watch the whole thing, skip to about 5 minutes in and see Seth McFarlane do Liam Neeson’s Taken phone call in Kermit the Frog’s voice!

To sum up the experience…

Why end now?  Tomorrow I’m going to try to make it a fun day.  I know that tomorrow will have just as many adult experiences–a work day, important business stuff, cooking dinner, and going for a run.  But I’m grown-up, not dead.

And I’ve got a dream, and thus, a lot to live for.  Why not have fun–BE fun while doing it?

5 Fun Things Challenge: Day 3 Proof of Life

Hello Friends,

Three days I embarked on the ‘5 Fun Things’ challenge, a contest with myself to do a minimum of one thing every day–just for the heck of it.  This is an attempt to lighten up, enjoy life, and rest more.

So, what have I done so far?

As much as I liked OutstandingBachelor’s idea to page myself at work without disguising my voice, I work in a factory and I was afraid the supervisor would give me the gears if I called “Geralyn to Geralyn” over the two-way radio.  I can’t afford to get on her bad side right now. 🙂

Instead…

Day 1: Friday

1. I drew ‘Crash Test Dougie’ in the dust on the encapsulator machine.  Crash Test Dougie is a stick man with buckteeth and a big hat, whom I used to scrawl over my physics homework in high school.  Instead of being filled in with dust, Dougie became more and more distinct as the day went on.

2. Canceled the supper menu, which was tomato soup (who eats tomato soup on Friday night?  Boring!) and made pizza instead.

3. Invented a Pumpkin Spice Latte Frappe/Protein Shake.  It’s more intense than Starbucks and without the high-fructose corn syrup!

4. Watched three episodes of The Mentalist with my sister.

Day 2: Saturday

1. Rerouted my run through a park so I could look at the flowers.  I discovered ornamental cabbages.

2. Went to a fireworks show.  They shot the fireworks off to Disney tunes!

Day 3: Sunday

1. Shot guns with my brother.

2. Went on an ‘adventure run’.  I ran through my parents’ acreage–terrain composed of knee high grass, wildflowers, and the occasional ‘cow pie.’

Not my usual stomping grounds.

Am I accomplishing the point?

I’m learning to keep my eyes open for fun, and then seize the opportunity when it comes.  I hope to make this a habit.

It reminds me of Jim Carey’s ‘Yes Man,’ where he says ‘yes’ to everything people ask him to do.

I’d  say to myself, “Run through the park and look at the flowers.”

“No, I’m tired.”

(Weedling, now) “It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, okay.”

Or, Jon says, “Do you want to come shoot with me?”

(Internally) “But I have stuff to do!”

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun.”

(Externally) “Oh, okay.”

I used to live by the philosophy that to refuse adventure was to impeach my courage and honour.  Maybe this challenge will restore some of my former spirit.  Two days to go.  Will you join me?

Doritos and the Disciplined Life: Guest Post by Malcolm Munroe

Socrates is credited as saying “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

True words, yet I’d like to expand on that and say “The undisciplined life is one barely lived.”

It is very important that we examine ourselves and come to understand who we are. It is crucial that we understand our lives and our character, our flaws and our virtues, our behaviors and motivations. If we are honest in our self-assessment, we will realize which of these things are good for us, and which of those things are bad for us. We will know what things we need to continue in, what things we need to improve upon, and what things we need to cut out completely. The need to examine oneself and arrive at this kind of self-understanding is urgent upon every person. It can be a daunting task, but it is one of the most worthwhile things that we can do for ourselves. A person is mature and wise who understands who they are and why they do the things that they do.

Self-realization is only the starting point.

However, self-realization is only the starting point.  It is one thing for me to realize that my habit of eating entire bags of Doritos is very bad for my health. It is one thing to realize that I have been justifying it by telling myself “I regularly jog. I probably just burn those extra calories off anyways.” (Both of these things are true, but I must admit that I have been slack in my jogging lately, but as steady as ever with the Doritos). What must happen now is that I must discipline myself and start getting into actually doing something about it. Self-examination will only take you so far. What’s needed afterwards is the steady step of discipline.

No builder supposes the work to be done when only the plans and blueprint have been laid out. I realize that my Doritos habit is incredibly unhealthy, and I realize they need to be either dramatically cut back or cut out entirely. I understand that I must start telling myself when enough is enough and stop taking that ever-so alluring second helping (Or better yet, to refrain from eating Doritos entirely). The same applies with jogging. I know that I have gotten a bit out of shape, and that my running times have been 1-2 minutes off their usual mark. If I want to get back to the pace where I was before I started getting lazy, I simply must get out and start running again. It may be a while before my times get back to where they were, and it may be even longer until I get strong and fast enough to surpass my personal bests, but in order to do so, I must get out and run step-by-sweaty-step.

Discipline doesn’t procrastinate

Thus self-examination is merely the place where we begin. The real value begins when we take that first step. Discipline does not put things off for “tomorrow”. Once we’ve understood what it is we must do, the time to begin doing it is now. Want to get more exercise? Start now. Want to read more regularly? Start now. We want to be less self-centered? Resolve to do more for others and by all means start now. For me to get back into running and stop eating junk, I must start now. The walk will be hard, and the way will be difficult, but if we are to truly make the most of our lives, there is not a moment to waste.

 

Malcolm Roulette (Malcolm Munroe) is an aspiring Actor and Hip-Hop musician. He currently resides in Steinbach, Manitoba. Originally from Split Lake, Manitoba, he is a recent graduate of Steinbach Bible College, and is currently Co-Chair of the Board for Mid-way Christian Leadership based in Thompson, Manitoba. You can check out his music at “HipHopGeronimo” on Soundcloud, or search up “Geronimo (Rapper)” on Facebook.

There Are Always More Dishes

Life is like the dishes. There are always more dishes. Not half an hour ago I washed the last container and miscellaneous spoon (there are always an abundance of dirty spoons in my kitchen), and then I emptied my lunch kit and found two more containers. So it goes. I paid my telephone bill just now, but there is a credit card bill waiting in the wings. There is always another bill. There is always another dish. Don’t get me started on laundry.

I’m in a slump. I have a slump every six to eight weeks, so I’m no longer alarmed by them. I know I will rise like the phoenix and become my usual, optimistic self. But that person is unlikely to return today. I’m consumed my merry-go-round life, and trying to reconcile how hard I’m working with my meagre results. When will I catch up to my dreams? It’s like the final lines of The Great Gatsby , in which Nick Carraway likens us to ‘boats against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past.”

I remind myself that I’m only twenty-three, and can hardly be expected to have it together. I also remind myself that part of the issue is that keep myself in a constant state of tension between my current life and my dreams.

But when I’m in a slump, these don’t seem to matter. My best bet is to keep the motions going, so that when Geralyn the Optimist returns, she doesn’t have too big of a mess to deal with.

My pastor said that hopelessness indicates we’ve reached our personal limit. Hopelessness is us ‘redlining’–a warning that we dare not stay here too long or we may get hurt.

But he also said that hopelessness was his favourite ‘difficult emotion.’

What?

He insisted it was true because, when hopelessness, he turned to Jesus. In fact, hopelessness was what brought him to Christ in the first place.

So in these moments when I can’t seem to keep my head up and life seems like an ever accelerating treadmill, I’ve been thinking about that a lot. It’s true, I guess. During my slumps, I listen to more sermons, more hymns and Christian music. I pray more, even though it’s mostly “Help!”

I wish I could instantly be rid of this blend of weariness, discouragement and uncertainty but if I can’t, I guess I can ‘glory in my weakness’ in which God’s power can be perfected.