The Rocket and The Ocean

Warning: may contain potentially irritating metaphysical content.

Breakthrough!

Last night I finished a 6 mile run with an average pace of 6’50”/ mile. This isn’t an earth-shattering pace, but it’s a personal best for a 5+ mile run:

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Distance: 6.01 miles

Duration: 41’11”

Pace: 6’50” / mile

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One of the advantages of setting aside a certain amount of time each day for training is that it allows one time to think (for better or worse.) So, I hope you’ll indulge me if I get a little philosophical in this entry. There are a few things that have been rattling around in my brain during my past few runs. The thoughts I’ve been mulling over are intimately connected to both the qualities required for endurance training, as well as those required to support a loved one during illness. Or, indeed, those required to endure one’s own illness. So, bear with me.

I’ve become mildly obsessed with the Apollo space program. The recent fortieth anniversary of Apollo 11 and my coincidental reading of a fantastic book by Alan Shepherd and Deke Slayton called “Moon Shot” has me pondering the nature of courage. What kind of courage does it take to climb atop a three hundred sixty foot rocket bound for another planet? What kind of courage does it take to face imminent death and persist? In a sense, I suppose, we’re all in this position from the moment we’re born, but choose not to think about it too much most of the time. The universal nature of mortality and our engagement with the concept (or lack there of) leads to other questions.

What kind of courage does it take to face an illness?

What kind of courage does it take to attempt the impossible?

What kind of courage does it take to die a good death?

In my experience, there is a direct relationship between strength and courage. One can have strength without courage, but not (I think) courage without strength. For this reason, if we are to be courageous in our lives, we must understand the nature of our own strength and how best to apply our energies.

Too often our culture glorifies one specific type of strength to the detriment of others; strength without proper direction or perspective. We glorify the strength of the explosion, the strength of warfare, the rocket, the monster-truck. This kind of strength:

The power of an eight hundred foot jet of fire pushing a rocket through the stratosphere at the speed of a rifle bullet. While this kind of energetic application of will-power certainly has its place, I think we’ve lost sight of the big picture.

One alternate mode of strength is one that allows for sustained effort over time, with a proper and intelligent application of energies. It is less exciting, but in the end it will overcome any obstacle. I’d like to propose that this basic dichotomy can be understood as “Rocket” versus “Ocean.” The Rocket blasts and rages and spews fire and “gets the job done, dammit!” The ocean endures and persists and, over time, has the strength to wear down entire mountain ranges and to change the face of the planet.

What are we missing by placing so much faith in the Rocket; this aggressive, explosive mode of facing adversity? I believe we miss the power and utility inherent in endurance and perseverance. The grandeur of an exploding firework shell may be impressive and even awesome, but it doesn’t have much staying power. We too often lose sight of the fact that many of the most difficult events in our lives are are not immediate crises in which a sudden burst of willpower will get us through, but rather circumstances in which we must call upon deep reserves of strength; reserves we may not even be aware of. So what happens when we bring the Rocket to bear on a situation that requires the Ocean?

What happens when we bring the sprinters approach to a marathon?

What happens when we bring the energy of high-explosives to the bedside of a sick loved one; or indeed to our own deathbed?

I contend that such misapplications happen all the time and the results are disastrous. When we are unable to “fix” a given situation through a blast of effort, we will inevitably feel that we have failed and we retreat into emotional isolation. We become exhausted and confused. We lose our ability to help those around us in any meaningful way.

I propose that we temper our obsession with “power” with a healthy respect for the Ocean; for endurance contains within it many invaluable qualities - humility, forbearance, tolerance, perspective, contemplativeness, determination, fidelity. I propose that we learn to glorify endurance as a quality fundamental to a fulfilling life and a good death.

A Special Five Year Anniversary... and a very long run

8/22/09

Completed a half marathon distance today!

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Distance: 13.18 miles

Duration: 1:41' 55"

Pace: 7' 43" / mile

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This the longest training run I've done yet. As it happens, today is also a very special anniversary. Today, August 22, 2009 marks five years since my mother's passing. Fortunately, these long runs offer an excellent opportunity for reflection and contemplation.

Obviously, today was a chance to consider my mother's life and the turbulent five years that have passed since her departure.

Though my mom is no longer with us physically, I know that those of us who loved her feel her presence daily. As her son, I am very lucky; lucky to have been loved and shaped by such an extraordinary woman.

She was always awake, alive, striving and giving of herself to others. My deepest hope is that I will be able to, in some small way, carry on her legacy of determination, integrity, fearlessness and compassion.

That would be a most fitting tribute to my mom.

International Installment: Part Trois

Post for 8/11/09

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Distance: 5.54 miles

Duration: 42' 19"

Pace: 7'38"/ mile

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I hit the trail runner’s jackpot today! Another session of exploration along the coast yielded the best loop yet. If the Tour du Golf heads northeast away from the Village of St. Briac, then the trail through the nature preserve of La Garde Guerin runs in exactly the opposite direction, towards the town of St. Lunaire.

Watch out for the nettles.

This is one of the most satisfying train runs I’ve had since Annadale back in July. Mostly single-track, this path is almost exactly 2.5 miles from start to finish; making for a very convenient 5 mile loop. The scenery is astonishing, in part because the trail makes a steep ascent along a bluff that looks out over the Channel. The ascent is steep and it’s just long enough to get a nice burn going in the quads. Long enough to put a dent in your pace, but not quite long enough to break your spirit. Just at the top of the climb, there’s an old gun emplacement of some kind. I didn’t see any signage explaining the history of the place.

Maybe it's a strategic defensive position against the invasion of sun-burned English tourists. I'll have to ask a local.

An astonishing view at the top leads the way over the ridge to a steady, but not precipitous, drop on the other side, which brings you down to a wide beach full of unsuspecting bathers. There’s a wide paved causeway between the beach and the road which is home to a little seaside bar, what appear to be trampolines-for-hire and (most incongruously) a circus at the far side. Don’t ask me what it’s doing there, because I have absolutely no idea. I have to admit, I felt a little gauche bursting through all these well-tanned vacationers with their enormous sun glasses and chilled bottles of Heineken, but I was pleased to see that I wasn’t the only runner. The Fellowship of the Sweaty is truly international.

On the way back, I tried dropping down to the beach to run on the firm sand. This surface is much easier on the joints, but the amount of effort it takes to slog through the dry sand makes it more trouble than it’s worth. Next time, I’ll stay on the pavement.

International Installment: Part Deux

Post for 8/8/09

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Distance: 8.48 miles

Duration: 1:05'35"

Pace: 7'43"/ mile

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I went exploring today to see if I could piece together a longer run. It seems a shame to keep doing the same four mile route when there must be other beautiful spots to train. The trouble is that most of the main roads between villages don’t have sidewalks. There’s usually a three or four foot grassy margin between the edge of the pavement and the hedgerow, but the surface is uneven and I would hate to twist an ankle eleven weeks before race day. That would be a stupid reason to miss the marathon. An even worse fate would be to get squished by some guy driving a Renault Twingo who’s not paying attention to the road!

So, I headed away from the house and towards the sea... and I got lucky! Yesterday I saw, from the bedroom window, a man running along a track between the ocean and the golf course just behind the house. He must have been about a half mile away, so I couldn’t see what trail he was following, or how he got there. But seeing that there must be a trail of some kind along the water, I decided to try and find my way down. Lo and behold!

This trail is called the Tour du Golf and it consists of a gently rolling 1.5 mile path that connects the residential areas of Saint Briac with the beaches. Each beach is connected to the Tour by a steep, rocky little descending path, along which families with their dogs and inflatable beach toys struggle down to the water. The only disadvantage to running on the Tour seems to be the amount of foot traffic. That and the fact that the loop is only 1.5 miles long. I can connect this loop with my 4 miler from earlier and build a respectable distance, but I’ll have to figure out when the foot traffic along the Tour is least dense.

Such beautiful country!

International Installment, Part Un

Post for 8/7/09

On the advice of my team of internationally renowned endurance training coaches, I’ve decided to spend two weeks at the Breton Center for the Study of High Altitude Physiology and Athletic Training (BCSHAPAT) in the picturesque village of Saint Briac Sur Mere (elevation 23.67 feet). In an effort to throw off the competition, I’ve decided to make this trip under cover of “going on vacation.” Thus far, my rigorous schedule has consisted of sitting on the beach (to counter vitamin D deficiency), riding around on boats (for improved equilibrium), fishing (honing the “killer instinct”) and attempting to impress my hosts with my rather lame command of the French language. On the advice of local experts, I’ve also developed a strict dietary regimen to maximize the impact of my training. This includes: seafood of all types, amazing baguettes with that perfect crunchy crust, immodest amounts of fatty cheese, red wine (to improve carbohydrate uptake efficiency) and a beverage locally known as “Tiponche”, which consists of rum, cane sugar, lime and nothing else. Generally served with a smile and a knowing look that says, “Be careful, American!”

And it’s hard to imagine a more beautiful setting for running. The days have been sunny or slightly overcast with high temperatures in the mid 70s. Generally, there’s a steady breeze and the sea air is enormously refreshing. It’s funny. I often think about the effects of NYC pollution on my running, but I don’t really FEEL the pollution until I leave it behind. It’s also nice to run in low humidity with cooler temperatures.

On our second day here, Marie’s dad, Benoit, took us by car to survey a potential four mile loop. The route follows along the seawall from just outside of town, along the main road leading out of town to the west, across a long bridge and into the next village. The halfway point is a boat ramp that leads directly into the water. (At left.) So. Beautiful.

There do seem to be quite a few runners here, but most of them don’t seem to be enjoying it much. For many, it looks like they’re doing penance of some kind; pounding out a few miles to make up for some transgression. With this weather and this scenery, it’s hard to imagine not loving your daily run!

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Distance: 4.33 miles

Duration: 32' 11"

Pace: 7' 25"

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A Damp 10 Miles

Post for 8/2/09

Ten miles today. And it was hot. Brutal.

This summer the weather in NYC has been strange, to say the least. I suppose we’re lucky in a way. It hasn’t been as hot as it usually is in August, but we’ve had tons of rain.

This dampens the motivation for outdoor training. In addition, it creates lakes where lakes there should not be. I’ve come across unexpected bodies of water on both my standard 4/5 mile route along the East River and, most recently, came across entire paths in Central Park that have been closed due to flooding. (See photo at left.)

It’s almost enough to make you want to do your civic duty by donning a pair of municipal waders and climbing down there to muck out the drains. Almost. Anyway, I sure hope NYC uses some of the much touted “stimulus funding” to fix the sewers. If this summer is any indication, we’re really going to be in trouble when the polar ice caps melt.

The sun did finally come out, though... There are moments when this City can stun you with her beauty. An unexpected vista can leap up and bite you like a stray dog. The very best kind of biting stray dog.

By the way, I’ve come to love the community of crazy New York City runners. To be clear, I’ve never spoken to anybody running in the Park, but I do see the same faces over and over. There seems to be a core of dedicated endurance runners that flock to Central Park on Sunday for training and they come in all shapes and sizes. That’s one of the beauties of running: it is all about function. It doesn’t matter what body type you’ve got, if you have the motivation to put one foot in front of the other for extended periods of time, then you have the raw materials for endurance training. There’s a guy I see on Sunday, usually along “Heartbreak Hill” up at the northern edge of the park. He runs with, what appears to be, a fully loaded weight vest. Not just a belt, mind you; an entire vest. My hat is off to this cat, even if I think he’s totally insane.

I find one of the best motivators to push myself is to run in the company of people who are vastly more fit than myself. There’s one guy to whom I owe special thanks to in this regard. Again, this is a man I know only by sight. And he’s hard to miss. He’s probably 6’5” and he runs wearing nothing but a pair of Nikes, teeny tiny 70’s-style running shorts and a very short mohawk. Nothing ostentatious, mind you. Just a close-cropped, self-respecting hipster mohawk. On a normal Sunday, I’ll be hard-driving at a 7’30”/ mile pace, or something similar, and Mohawk just breezes past me. He must be doing a 6’00”/ mile at least. Probably faster. I made the mistake of trying to match his pace once... at a discreet distance, of course. I lasted about three quarters of a mile before I had to concede: This guy’s got mad VDOT. (More on this later...)

But I did log my ten, and for this Sunday, my modest 7’ 48”/ mile is going to have to suffice.

I wonder if there’s a relation between “runner’s high” and the “nitrogen narcosis” experienced by divers. This picture makes me think there is: