Monday, September 8, 2014
Resonance
Recently one of my best marathon finishes was on one of the hilliest courses. It was a run in New Hampshire around Newfound Lake. I was either running uphill or down and the hills were longish and steep. But it was just right for me. I could gain momentum on the downhill and gauge the uphill ahead, plot the distance that the momentum could take me and attack the next uphill plotting the point where I would either need to walk or switch to a lower gear.
I thought about this race last weekend in Jackson, Wyoming as I plodded up the seemingly endless bike paths with maybe a 5% elevation gain. It was one of those courses where you doubt your training and stamina until later you review the course and notice that indeed it was not flat but climbed ever so slowly. After the long gradual stretches there were these little hills up to roads that crossed the bike paths. I normally love little hills, I used them to get my heart beating a little faster then pick up the pace on the inevitable down hill that follows. It felt like every little pop up hill was followed by more 5% grade. This is where I began thinking about resonance frequency. I just couldn't get into a rhythm. The sections where we were out on a road the shoulder was too narrow to trust and the paved part of the road was crowned so that the footing was never dependable.
The high altitude, 6243 feet was enough to make breathing strenuous, but not impossible. Just enough to again make you doubt yourself. I love chatting with people while running marathons. The friendships that I have formed in this journey are so priceless. I was not able to do this at first. Throughout the race I kept leapfrogging with a woman with a matching marathon maniac shirt. Hers had short sleeves and mine was a singlet. She seemed strong and was doing the Jeff Galloway run 3 minutes walk 1 minute strategy. I try to get to mile 16 then walk 100 four beats 20 four beats. On a good day this takes me one mile. Last week I started feeling week at mile 9. There were run/walkers all around me so I started my "survival shuffle" way early. The weather forecast was 47 at the start and rain by 9 am. I have gone to races when the rain picks up and soaks you to the bone. Any exposed skin gets numb with the energy required to evaporate the rain. I decided to wear my tights and my arm sleeves. The tights are very thin and I thought that even if it was warm my sweat would cool the thin fabric. Well it never rained (until 5 minutes after I finished). So I was very warm. Maybe I should have stopped and taken my tights off. In my bedraggled mind I figured that if I had to stop at a porta-pot again ( I had stopped three times already when I started feeling warm) I would take them off and tie them around my waist.
By mile 20 I was plodding along trying to just break up the last 6.2 miles in my head into doable chunks. The cut-off for the race was 6 hours and I was a little worried that I wouldn't make it. I went by the aid station and my twin (younger looking and stronger) but in the pink marathon maniac shirt was sitting on a park bench. She invited me to join them and I said that I wouldn't be able to get back up. Soon she caught up to me and we started talking. Resonance, it is so interesting how when you find someone at your own pace it seems that you were destined to meet and how often you have shared such similar backgrounds that your parallel lives were destined to intersect. We talked about jobs and family. We told each other about our sons. Her's was born with cerebral palsy and she shared her guilt at leaving him. I told her about losing Brian and how the guilt of leaving him and Stacy to move to Manistique still haunts me. We talked about our supportive husbands and our running friends. We crossed the finish line together and shared Facebook contact information. Cory Hove took our picture and the sky opened up and it poured.
The next day she posted the awesome picture that Cory took.... Two days later she posted that her son had passed away. Lovely lady, how hard it is to lose a baby. We try to make them whole and make their lives perfect. They bless us in an infinite number of ways. Our lives are so full through them and with them. When they are gone....
We both have other children to brag about and dote on. The wound will heal but the void will always be there. My son's voice resonates in my memory "Take better care of yourself Mom." How can I do that when the very soul of me was gutted? I run. I fill that void, incompletely with amazing people. My Stacy has grown to be an amazing woman. She has blossomed in ways that fills those empty areas with joy. Katie, Brian's wife is still finding her way. Longing for the love that she lost.
Thank you Denise Carter for finishing the race with me. May your pain be eased with peace and love.
I thought about this race last weekend in Jackson, Wyoming as I plodded up the seemingly endless bike paths with maybe a 5% elevation gain. It was one of those courses where you doubt your training and stamina until later you review the course and notice that indeed it was not flat but climbed ever so slowly. After the long gradual stretches there were these little hills up to roads that crossed the bike paths. I normally love little hills, I used them to get my heart beating a little faster then pick up the pace on the inevitable down hill that follows. It felt like every little pop up hill was followed by more 5% grade. This is where I began thinking about resonance frequency. I just couldn't get into a rhythm. The sections where we were out on a road the shoulder was too narrow to trust and the paved part of the road was crowned so that the footing was never dependable.
The high altitude, 6243 feet was enough to make breathing strenuous, but not impossible. Just enough to again make you doubt yourself. I love chatting with people while running marathons. The friendships that I have formed in this journey are so priceless. I was not able to do this at first. Throughout the race I kept leapfrogging with a woman with a matching marathon maniac shirt. Hers had short sleeves and mine was a singlet. She seemed strong and was doing the Jeff Galloway run 3 minutes walk 1 minute strategy. I try to get to mile 16 then walk 100 four beats 20 four beats. On a good day this takes me one mile. Last week I started feeling week at mile 9. There were run/walkers all around me so I started my "survival shuffle" way early. The weather forecast was 47 at the start and rain by 9 am. I have gone to races when the rain picks up and soaks you to the bone. Any exposed skin gets numb with the energy required to evaporate the rain. I decided to wear my tights and my arm sleeves. The tights are very thin and I thought that even if it was warm my sweat would cool the thin fabric. Well it never rained (until 5 minutes after I finished). So I was very warm. Maybe I should have stopped and taken my tights off. In my bedraggled mind I figured that if I had to stop at a porta-pot again ( I had stopped three times already when I started feeling warm) I would take them off and tie them around my waist.
By mile 20 I was plodding along trying to just break up the last 6.2 miles in my head into doable chunks. The cut-off for the race was 6 hours and I was a little worried that I wouldn't make it. I went by the aid station and my twin (younger looking and stronger) but in the pink marathon maniac shirt was sitting on a park bench. She invited me to join them and I said that I wouldn't be able to get back up. Soon she caught up to me and we started talking. Resonance, it is so interesting how when you find someone at your own pace it seems that you were destined to meet and how often you have shared such similar backgrounds that your parallel lives were destined to intersect. We talked about jobs and family. We told each other about our sons. Her's was born with cerebral palsy and she shared her guilt at leaving him. I told her about losing Brian and how the guilt of leaving him and Stacy to move to Manistique still haunts me. We talked about our supportive husbands and our running friends. We crossed the finish line together and shared Facebook contact information. Cory Hove took our picture and the sky opened up and it poured.
The next day she posted the awesome picture that Cory took.... Two days later she posted that her son had passed away. Lovely lady, how hard it is to lose a baby. We try to make them whole and make their lives perfect. They bless us in an infinite number of ways. Our lives are so full through them and with them. When they are gone....
We both have other children to brag about and dote on. The wound will heal but the void will always be there. My son's voice resonates in my memory "Take better care of yourself Mom." How can I do that when the very soul of me was gutted? I run. I fill that void, incompletely with amazing people. My Stacy has grown to be an amazing woman. She has blossomed in ways that fills those empty areas with joy. Katie, Brian's wife is still finding her way. Longing for the love that she lost.
Thank you Denise Carter for finishing the race with me. May your pain be eased with peace and love.
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