A peek under the hood of an early morning long run:

Headed out wicked early this morning to get a 19 miler in with everything else I was supposed to do today. By wicked I mean 5:08. A.M. Yeah. 

Here's how I think that is probably not how most of the rest of the world thinks: 

I think, I can run a big loop for an hour and twenty minutes, pick up my running buddy who did not want to go that early or that far, loop with her to come back to my house at the end of her part of our run together so that I could pick up my dog 

so the dog could run the last hour with me. 

It worked. I made my friend's porch about three minutes late, and my dog got slightly more than an hour's run, and I made my 9:15 meeting fed and washed. Our milk was spoiled, though, so I did not get my Taza Mexican hot chocolate recovery miracle. 

And feeling pretty amazing for having trundled up and down our neighborhood hills for three hours and ten minutes. THREE HOURS AND TEN MINUTES! Booyah. 

Before I picked up my buddy or my dog, I had time to think. 

Today I thought about the memorial service many in our neighborhood attended Saturday, for a wonderful, fierce, too-young mother-artist-athlete-wife-friend (in no particular order). 

I also thought about shouting - not because I was in danger, but I wondered how loud I could shout, and knowing whose houses I was near, I wondered how many neighbors my voice would carry to. Many of these neighbors who were at yesterday's service, and the one before that, and the one before that, and the one before that...

Putting these lines of thinking together, I thought about how much generosity these neighbors have shown each other in these recent times of struggle. We have opened our pantries and cooked for one another, we have opened our wallets for donations honoring these struggles, we have given of our time whenever it was asked of us, without a moment's thought about being inconvenienced. 

I thought about how even though we'd all rather have everyone in our lives remain well, we know the way the world works and at the slightest hint of trouble there'd be an email and meals scheduled three months out, with a waiting list filled with those who got the email too late. 

I also thought about my upcoming fundraising party, and a concert I'm producing in April, and all kinds of other things. But my happiest thoughts, as I ran past street after street on which I knew so many who had given so much to others nearby, were of gratitude for the strength of these networks. 

But there's another thing, too. This network of care feels very midwestern, less of how I have lived for so long in Yankee Boston and more of how I might have grown up in Ohio. 

No one would be more surprised than my younger self to know that one day I, too, would take my part in such a community. Sort of exactly like an It Gets Better moment. It got better than I ever dared to imagine. Maybe it's a function of getting older and living in one place for a long time, but it feels like something else, too. 

I know that distance training brings up all kinds of emotion. I've written about the snowglobe effect I've experienced. And I'm sure that the folks from around here haven't given this a moment's thought, that in a slightly different time or place someone like me would think twice before attempting to participate fully in a community. 

And yeah, the world has changed in a lot of places, but not everyplace, and I am filled with gratitude to be where I am now, in this community, where I am not even the only crazy running machine, and my covered dish quietly, rightfully, takes its place in the queue of outpourings sustaining those in need. 

Cold. Windy. Hilly. Late. Do I have to?

For the first time in a long time today's run took effort to get started. Off schedule, step back week, icy cold wind. Why bother. Only 10 miles. Other things to do. 

All the advice says go out for 10 minutes. Even if it's only 10 minutes.

I've read running described as an "undifferentiated" activity - it allows one's thoughts to go wherever they want while your body does its fairly repetitive activity requiring a minimal amount of mindfulness. I consider it like Tuvan throat singing (find info here), where the singers somehow emit two notes at at same time. My body does one thing, my brain (other than making sure I don't run into traffic) another. I cannot throat sing. 

Here's the rough trajectory my brain took as I ran all ten miles the doctor ordered: 

I head out into the 24 degree wind, uphill. Remind myself why I'm doing this Marathon for Shaira and everyone else in need of an ear in a time of crisis. How fortunate I am to be able to run like I do - some people would commit crimes to be able to run like this. Ok, it's not so cold out. 

None of the miles Team Samaritans run will bring anyone back, I get that, but at least two good things result: the money we raise will make sure that Samaritans will be there for the next person who needs. That's one good thing. This hill isn't so imposing. The other good thing? Keeping the memories of those we run in honor of front and center. 

I take it back about the two things. I wasn't expecting the third set of good things happening after I committed to run this race. I get to experience an enormous amount of support from everyone who sponsors me, asks me how training is going, asks me how to donate, offers to run with me, tells me where they plan to cheer us on. 

I am so blessed. And grateful. And humbled. 

And old, which brings on the other half of my thought process this morning's solo run, the other reason I am doing this thing, this marathon, this running. 

I recently had a short conversation with a very young grandmother whose granddaughter turned 15. "When I reached 15," she said, it was the first time I was aware of growing old. It is half of 30!" Which echoes what my next birthday has me thinking (it is not a round number), that it is half of an absurdly big number. It's time to take all that public health aging stuff seriously. I'm pretty healthy, but not perfect. I'm hoping really hard that the physical challenges I put my body into will help me live healthier for longer.... 

Thinking of 15 put this song in  my head. Hmm. How old was Al Stewart when he recorded that song? Probably half the age I am now. Oh, I bet the internet will know - and because the internet will know, and because I am going to figure it out, it is what I will leave you with. 

Also, I will leave you with the suggestion that I might be convinced to do a stand up comedy set at a fundraising party I'm planning for the middle of March. Bring your phones and set them to record!

Time Passages album released 1978 (alstewart.com); Al Stewart born 1945 (wikipedia). 1978-1945 = ok, not half my age now but pretty damn young. And I am older than I look, people. Besides. What would a 33 year old singer songwriter have to be nostalgic about?? 

I wonder whether I would look older if I stopped running or younger. Which finishes my blog post, and my ten mile run. 

Group run

Yesterday I ran 5 early morning miles with a bunch of heroes. Sure they might look like a group of young healthy mild-mannered professionals but really they are heroes.

It's true that promising to meet friends to run makes it harder to skip out on a workout...Which is why on one of the shortest days of the year I was out of bed at 5:35 to meet up with a bunch of teachers and school social workers.

After the run I coul honestly say "what five miles?" And, they are not only genius at teaching our kids, but they have fundraised for Boston, know why I'm running, and have way better ideas than my own for how to get there. Stay tuned!

#feelyoungerthanIam #inspired