My meditation this morning was a meditation in motion. The Cherry Blossom 10 miler launched at 7:30am, which I began chilled from an underdressed bike ride through the nation's capital. The course was packed with people who spilled over onto grassy berms and sidewalks trying to maneuver through the masses of bodies to find their own cruising altitude. This was my third longer race this year, and I have experienced the mental tenacity required to get through the 3/4 mark and finish strong. I have developed a system of positive self talk through this time, which seemed totally unremarkable until I shared it with my running partner, who found the idea completely hilarious. "What does that even sound like?" she asked.
"You know, like, mantras 'You are strong. You can do it.' or phrases like, 'Keep at your cruising altitude until the last 2 miles and then really let loose. Just keep cruising for now.'" She laughed.
"Cruising altitude, huh? I would like to be in your head for these races."
"Maybe not," I replied. I had earlier shared with her that I play a game I have dubbed "predator-prey," in which I "hunt down" other runners who seem like they are struggling and race past them. I even like to start slower so that I can do the second half of the race that way. This also amused her to no end.
The power of the mind is rarely so clear to me as when I am physically challenging myself. I know those last few miles are not even about my physical capacity, but my mental clarity. If I start telling myself I'm too tired, or I can't do it, I falter...my legs respond in kind and believe they surely cannot take another step. If I start thinking about the finish line when there's still distance between me and it, my legs become leaden and unresponsive. But if I stay present in the moment and take in what is around me. If I get single minded in my belief that I feel strong and am strong. If I open up to what is, rather than what I think might be- a torturous finish predicated on a pace that might be too fast, for instance- then I perform.
My meditation was gliding around Haine's Point this morning at mile 8. When some man next to me swore, "Where the fuck is mile 9 marker? It can't be this far," his breath ragged, I was able to trot by, knowing that it didn't really matter. We were where we were in that moment, and so we better make it the best it could be. This clarity was not constant, but emerged in between my own angsty moments about the surely unevenly spaced mile markers 'cause seriously, yo, where the f*** were they??? My meditation was in my self-promoting mantra that really should never be shared with anyone else, but manages to be so core to enduring through the challenge of such races.
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Gratitudes for the weekend: Running twins, early mornings on the Tidal Basin, A's kindness holding our stuff while we ran, bike parking, out of town friend visits, freshly baked bread, help putting dishes away, new glasses, dentist-fresh teeth, friends' parents, uke shopping, cuddlefests, open doors and windows, breakfast, breakfast II, brunch, brunch II, moving fast
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