Jill and her Mom started running after her  mom was diagnosed the second time with breast cancer.  They decided to run a marathon to celebrate her recovery and crossed the finish line of the 2008 PF Chang’s Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in Arizona with a hunger for more.  Since that time Jill has run other distance races and has said she’ll never stop running!  She particularly loves the “Race for the Cure” series and even got to visit Washington DC to do the Global Race for the Cure.  She’s running the 2009 Las Vegas Rock ‘n’ Roll Half Marathon to benefit the Komen Foundation, raising money via her website, Jill Will Run .  She’s asking people to donate $1 in hopes of seeing what can be raised without requesting huge contributions from everyone.  Emptying the “car ashtray change” can make a difference!

The Mindful Runner

by Jill Whitaker

Too often I feel as though I have a million thoughts rattling around in my brain.  I recently wrote about this feeling on my blog, Jill Will Run, and how it is similar to a bird trapped under a roof.  (I will admit the inspiration for that simile came from a book.  “The Thirteenth Tale” by Diane Setterfield is full of rich literary imagery.)  Running has become a very therapeutic way for me to “release the birds” and get my thoughts in order.

There is an important aspect I’ve been working on improving in my life that helps both the “birds in the brain” and my running: being more mindful. 

Instead of trying to outrun my thoughts, I use a run to observe my thoughts.  It’s a difficult task at times and I often find that I’m trying to fix the thoughts as opposed to simply noticing the different directions my brain is traveling.  When I catch myself, I try to remember to just listen and that through listening more answers can be found.

This personal observation and mindfulness is beneficial in many areas.  I think the general attitude of the world seems that we must always be on the go; planning, plotting, rushing and moving.  This constant buzz can actually prevent us from evolving as individuals. 

In January I experienced my first DNF (Did Not Finish) after tripping and falling in a marathon.  As I was trying to get medical assistance, sitting in the emergency room waiting for stitches, getting rocks dug out of my hands… all I could think was “How will I redeem myself? What’s next?”  And I think I actually delayed my recovery some by not allowing myself to focus on getting well.  I was too concerned with proving to the world that I am a tough runner and nothing can set me back.  My physical wounds healed, but my emotional well-being was damaged by not giving myself a break.

On an even more basic level, taking the time to rest mindfully can help with recovery from our everyday running and workouts.  Just sitting down and taking a moment to acknowledge that this rest is healing and is as vitally important to training as a long run or speedwork, gives the activity more focus and purpose.  (Yes, I’m going to say rest is an activity… simply because I need that label for myself.  Too often I’ve branded it as doing nothing and that just serves the purpose of making me feel down on myself.)

Mindfulness can be practiced during a run as well.  Take a moment to turn off the music and run on your own.  Notice your breathing, the world around as you run through it, the way your body moves and how it feels at that particular moment.  Do a mental scan from head to toe.  This practice can help you correct imbalances in your form, appreciate the power and grace of the human body and remember just how much you CAN do.  I have a friend who runs ultramarathons and she often reminds people that we are capable of doing so much more than we think.  When we let the negative thoughts get in the way, that’s the foundation where our limits and obstacles are built.   If you are constantly trying to block out the experience of what you are doing when running, how will you ever learn to appreciate the sport and what you are accomplishing?

Lastly, I think mindfulness can help us focus on our own abilities.  Turning our thoughts inward redirects our focus on our own skills at a personal level.  Instead of looking out at everyone else and comparing their pace and distance to our own, remember how far you have come and what changes and improvements you have made.

I challenge you to take a look inside.  Take stock of what YOU need, not what you think you NEED TO DO for everyone else.  Observe without negative judgment and remind yourself that it is okay to treat yourself kindly.  Then act upon those observations… keeping your thoughts mindful and actions purposeful.  You are worth your own attention!

Jill Whitaker writes the blog Jill Will Run.  Stop by and tell her “HI!”

Thus, I’ve spent the past week reflecting on my first Half Marathon, the Colorado Marathon in Fort Collins on May 3, 2009. I’ve come away with a few realizations. Obviously I can’t just list them; here’s the story:

When I first started training for this race I based my expected time off of my friend’s race time at a Half-Marathon in Arizona earlier this year; she finished with a 1:27:something. That calculated to roughly 6:30/mile. Back in February I figured that since we run together on Saturdays and I never get left behind that I should be able to do the same thing.

Note here that many people do this; we look at a friend’s accomplishments and assume that we have the same ability. The key word here is ASSUME.

As my training progressed and I did more tempo runs and long runs I noticed my times. A pattern emerged; I was doing 8:00/miles consistently, with some miles in the 7:00 minute range and some closer to 8:30/mile. Given the fact that I have no desire whatsoever to go out so hard that I’m puking my guts out or land in the E.R. with severe dehydration, I figured I could probably run eight minute miles over a long distance. Final analysis: Based on doing 8:00/mile I could expect to finish the race in an hour and forty five minutes.

Last week I had a great race. My body felt good, I didn’t feel like I pushed myself past all realistic limits, and afterwards I was tired but not totally wiped out. I had energy to go to my son’s flag football game in the afternoon and help out at their elementary school’s gardening day.

I finished the race in one hour, forty five minutes, and forty nine seconds, which means I ran an average of 8:04 per mile. Emotionally I am not so much happy, or proud of myself; rather, I am content to the very core. I trained for the race and examined my potential realistically. I saw myself as the athlete that I AM, not based on another person’s performance, athletic ability, or my own mocked-up version of who I should be. I did something that four years ago I couldn’t imagine ever doing, and I did it based on the person that I’ve grown into. During the race I didn’t let myself get pulled into running a pace that was unrealistic for me, and I enjoyed every minute of running on a beautiful spring morning in Colorado. There were no rose-colored glasses on this sweaty face.

A few days ago an acquaintance I know from my kids’ school asked me about my race.

Me: It was a lot of fun! It was such a beautiful day up there, perfect for running.

Her: I have a friend who was there, she qualified for Boston.

Me: Wow. Good for her. I didn’t have any illusions that I would qualify, I just wanted to see what I could do.

Her: Yeah. She races a lot. That’s the point of racing though, isn’t it? Why race if you’re not trying to get faster?

At this point I gracefully exited the conversation in favor of taking a wheel-barrow full of mulch for a ride. I respectfully disagree with her rhetorical question on so many levels. “Why race if you’re not trying to get faster?”

Why indeed? And this seems to be the million-dollar question. I race to push myself out of my comfort zone, to show myself that I can set a goal and get there, that I have the tenacity to follow through with things that might seem insurmountable, that I can create balance in my life, that I can see myself realistically and know what my boundaries are. That’s why I race. Running is a part of my life, but it’s not my WHOLE life. It’s an aspect that has taught me so much over the many months and seasons that I’ve cruised the streets and trails of Boulder County. Focus, determination, cross-training, balance, tenacity and rest; these are areas that I work on as an athlete and these same skills are slowly, incessantly, seeping into the rest of my life.

Holy cow, there’s hope for me yet!

I have a half-marathon race coming up in two weeks and my training is on hold.  I’ve wanted to run a half-marathon for three years now and have been sidelined because of injury.  Now, only four weeks before this third attempt at the half-marathon, I fell hard on a patch of ice.  My first thought as I lay on the ice was not “Is anything broken?”, but “Awww, not again”.  I have a nagging suspicion that I am sub-consciously sabotaging myself.

So that’s the big question; why am I doing this to myself?  I know I can run thirteen miles.  I could do that any day of the week and it wouldn’t be a stretch.  Somehow, the difference seems to be in my ability to run the distance any time I want, and doing it in the confines of a race surrounded by hundreds of other people.  Some of the people will undoubtedly be faster than me, and some will be slower.

I don’t harbor any illusions that I’ll be winning anything in this race.  I could easily be called an “above average” runner, but I’m not the faster girl on the block or even in my age group.  Therefore, I can safely cross “fear of losing” off my list of possible reasons my body is holding back.

Something about the idea of being able to run thirteen miles in the privacy of my own life, and then doing it in a race is striking a chord.  I adore the freedom of choosing when and where to run.  But when the ante is upped, I’m left wondering if I can rise to the occasion.  I’ve found plenty of reasons in the past to NOT do the things I’ve yearned to do (travel, a career, becoming a master gardener).  And yet, when I’ve really and truly wanted something, like obtain a Master’s degree, I’ve found support and the means that I needed to succeed.  I’m left with the nagging question; do I have an unrequited fear of success, of being seen as a person who is accomplished and capable?

To break it down even further, I have to go back to a recurring theme in my life; a fear of being seen.  As a high school student I loved theater but fought tooth-and-nail against being on stage, even when it became clear that I had strong potential as an actor.  I became a stagehand, so that I could participate in the darkness, undercover, incognito.  I resisted being in high-profile classes, being on a team of any sort, dressing or even talking in a way that would cause me to be noticed.  As it was, loads of unwanted attention came my way anyway, and I was often flustered and uncomfortable.

Fast forward to the present.  I’m more comfortable in my skin and have lost many of the inhibitions of speaking in public, wearing pretty colors, and generally being noticed.  I earned my Master’s degree in Environmental Policy and Management and have started a part-time job where I meet people and interact with them on a daily basis.  I’m comfortable saying what I think and standing up for my self, kids, morals, ethics, etcetera.

What does this have to do with a half-marathon?  It hasn’t escaped me that running a race is a metaphor for many aspects of my life.  For some reason I’ve created a “mock-up” of what this race is supposed to be and how I fit into the picture, just as I’ve created pictures of what my life should look like.  I’ve toyed with the idea of dropping out of the race and using the excuse of injury.  Certainly an injury is a valid excuse, except that I’m not severely injured and I know for a fact that it would be a major cop-out.

I’m venturing into uncharted territory.  I’m stretching my current mold and I have no idea what I’m going to look like when all this transformation is finished.  A few months ago Karley made a very astute comment about the past four years.  “You’ve gone to great lengths to transform yourself and re-make yourself into the woman you want to be.”  This is true.  It’s a scary process but I’m coming out the other side stronger, wiser and more confident.  The depths that I’m traveling are hard and scary, but it’s work that I have to do.  Therefore, I think that I have to go forward with this race and come out at the finish line.  Something about the process of racing and stepping up to the plate to play holds a key to some intensely uncomfortable personal growth.