Spring Adventures

It's been awhile. To follow up with my last post, I have in fact given into fatal hubris and decided that grad school is the right thing to do. I've committed to the European and Eurasian Studies master's program at George Washington University, which I plan to use to catapult myself into a career as an FSO (Foreign Service Officer). So yeah... that's what you do with that type of program.

But that's not really what this post was going to be about. It has more to do with the half-marathon I ran today and the Tough Mudder I did a few weeks back, and the training that led up to it. I've found that running long distances is... compelling. Each time I finish a run, I feel a strange mixture of relief and regret. Relief that the pain is over and the accomplishment is accomplished, but regret at the ending. Although the relief aspect of it doesn't apply to this simile, the regret is like when you finish a good book, or have to go home after a vacation. I ran across the finish line and was stoked to be done, but driving away from Harpers Ferry, I kinda felt this sense of disappointment that it was over.

It's weird, because in high school track, I'd get really nervous before my races. Granted, those were vastly different situations. When you're only running half a mile or a mile, you're expecting to push yourself to the limit and give it all you have for that short amount of time. There was a lot more pain and uncertainty involved-- crossing those finish lines, I never felt anything short of absolute relief to be done. It felt kind of like if you ever try to hold your breath through a really long tunnel, or swim underwater for awhile, nothing feels better than giving up and gasping for breath. I dreaded those short races.

Today was pretty different, and the Mudder was a similar situation. Rather than nervousness, I felt excitement. Maybe I'm just a different person than I was back in high school, and maybe it's because these races are more about conserving energy and just expending the right amount at the correct time rather than just giving it all you've got. But at the Mudder and today, I found myself welcoming the challenges. Late in today's course, at like mile 11 or 12, there was a beastly hill that when you approached it seemed to just lead up out of sight, it was uphill as far as the eye could see. I knew I would be going up it, because I ran down it earlier in the course. And yes, I'll admit that I was dreading it, but at the same time, I wanted it right then.

I've been experiencing that same kind of strange regret I mentioned earlier when I've finishing my longer training runs, too. Last week I went to the Civil War battle site of Manassas (Bull Run) and ran around it twice. One loop is 5.6 miles and is very pretty country, with a lot of ups and downs to help prepare me for today's run. I finished with this feeling of, "What, no more? Oh, okay...", even though I was actually really tired. More tired than I was after finishing today's race, actually. There was still that letdown, and a yearning for more.

Here's what I think it is. Running is to me now what hiking was to me in Utah. It is an escape from the petty frustrations of 40 hours a week of customer service over the phone, of day-in day-out routine, and stifling boredom. And just cities in general. See, I need a little bit more out of life than insipid money-making activities and endless driving on congested roads. Yeah, church involvement is fulfilling, but can also add to the feeling of tedium and being burnt out. I need an epic element, something to help me appreciate the rarer gifts that this world really does have to offer. Stuff like running up a hill and taking grim pride that you didn't stop to walk, stuff like knowing that your body has learned to be stronger and more efficient than it was four months ago, and stuff like being outside when it's rainy so you can smell and see the fresh green of spring without the glare of the sun dulling that special color. And stuff like running in sandals that you made yourself so that you feel the ground beneath your feet and and the water droplets falling on them.

Moral of the story? I'm going to try to see if my body can keep up with my spirit's need for more adventurous escape, and possibly set my sights on a marathon. I finished in about 2 hours flat today, which is really nothing to crow about, but I felt pretty good physically and it's really just finishing that matters.