Runner Insight

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Growing up in Montana afforded me many opportunities to engage my adventurous side.  We had a place my family called “Our River.”  Five or six times a year, we would all pile into the old blue Rambler, Mom, Dad, two brothers, two sisters and myself, and be off to that magical spot.  Now this river of ours was only 30 miles or so down the interstate. I guess it was the drama and anticipation of exploring the wide shore of the river and the surrounding cliffs that made the trip there seem longer than it actually was. It felt like it took forever.   

It would be an all day event.  Mom would pack a picnic lunch and bring along 2 or 3 empty ice cream buckets so she could collect river rocks.  She would spend hour after hour on the bank of the river, searching, and picking out special rocks, each with their own unique stripe or sparkle to it.  Some rocks had faces, while others were in the shape of a shoe, or something else wildly unique and interesting to her. On the way back home, she would pass them around, and we would, “ooh” and “ah” over them. Well at least I did, most of my siblings were asleep on the way back to town! :) 

Once we got there and mom was busy hunting for rocks, my younger brother and I were off to do our own exploring.  There was one particular rock cliff that I was drawn to. The cliff had a nice, easy path that led to the top. Once you got to the top, it overlooked the river far below. The water would be rushing fast through the narrowing of the cliffs, creating white-capped rapids: an awesome sight that would send your imagination racing through all kinds of wonderful places and curious stories. While my brother was content to walk the path to the top, I was compelled to climb  straight up the face of the cliff. Of course, my parents had no idea that’s what I was doing.

Years later as an adult, I went back to that same river. Strolling along the shore, I came to the foot of that cliff face I had climbed 20 some years before. I was appalled. What the hell had I been doing?! This was not some small rock. It was an actual cliff, with loose crumbly gravel where you could lose your foot or hand hold, twisted trees and treacherous jagged boulders to crash onto below. I couldn’t imagine myself climbing that cliff. What was I thinking? Or obviously Not Thinking. I was very parental, admonishing my 10 year old self. 

When I was 10 years old and approached that rock cliff, the only thing I had on my mind was to get to the top.  I simply knew I could do it, as sure as my next breath would be there. Neither fear nor the concept of failure ever entered into my thinking. I saw it as just another way up to the top. 

Recently, as I considered it, I began to admire and respect my 10 year old self. Wouldn’t that be nice? To not be so limited by our doubt and fears. I thought about why it was so hard for me to even fathom the idea of climbing that cliff as an adult. Obviously, as adults we grow into our fears. We call it reason, but a lot of times, it has nothing to do with rationality; it stems from fear. For the most part, we are not served by our fear. Sometimes, sure: when we’re being hunted by the wicked witch, fear and adrenaline kick in and tell us to run and hide from her crazy, flying monkeys. Fear can serve a purpose sometimes. But most of the time, it holds us back. We withdraw. It keeps us from our full expression of all the great, magical and successful things that we are meant to be.

That got me thinking about how RP and fear had affected my running. As my eyesight has diminished over the years, and even more significantly the past two years, it has become harder and harder for me to see the paths that I run on. Since I can’t see detail and definition, each day I go out for my run, I am confronted with that seemingly insurmountable rock cliff.  

Before I was diagnosed with this eye disease, it was easy to go for a run. In fact it took no thought at all, except for what to wear.  It was like when I was 10 and just climbed the cliff because it was there. Now the cliff face seems harder to scale and much scarier, when in reality it’s the same rock cliff.

I love running so much and am determined to do what it takes to keep doing it, so I find ways to break through the barriers that seem to want to hold me back. I had to find ways to overcome the fears. For me, the passion for running helps tremendously, but it also takes some positive self-talk.

Some days I go out for a run, and almost turn back. Because of my vision issues, when the lighting is flat, everything around looks like I am in a fog.  It feels like it’s too hard, so I stop and almost go home.  Ultimately, though, I usually keep running.  Something in me is determined to keep going forward.  Like I said, some of it is the pure passion and enjoyment I get. But from another perspective, for the most part, I’ve pretty much made up my mind that fear isn’t going to keep me from doing what I love to do. I’m the one in control. I’m not giving that up to the fear.

To keep control, I do things to help me be as prepared and safe as possible. I am now using my white cane while running.  I don’t have to use it the entire time, but it allows me to run faster, whereas before I really had to slow down my pace to make sure I was not going to run off the edge of the path. I wear lots of flashing lights and blinkers; if I can’t see cars and bikes, I want to make sure they see me. I also take my cell phone and wear my RoadID. 

www.RoadID.com

By doing all these things, going for my runs is not such a scary thought. I can scale that metaphorical cliff now, with the right equipment: the white cane, RoadID, flashers and cell phone. 

So what fears are standing in your way?

Keeping you from scaling your cliffs? 

How ‘bout it? 

Vision Runner

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Or… 

My Obsession with Running Clothes

I absolutely love living in Montana.  One of the best things about being here is the change of seasons.  As summer gives way to fall, I just love the vibrant gold and red leaves against the deep blue sky. Well I used to anyway, and to some extent I can still see that, or at least my memory sight does. It’s not only the subdued lighting and dynamic colors that I love, but the air feels different. It has a crisp, fresh feel to it…sweater weather. 

It also smells different. With a hint of wood smoke and apples, it brings back sweet memories of raking the yard to jump in the leaves, school days, and the anticipation of Halloween.  

As much as I love the change of seasons, I must admit, my running always suffers a bit. The problem lies with my running apparel.  Okay I know it sounds silly, but it’s all about transitioning.  One day I’m wearing my shorts and a tank top, and then, poof, the next day I’m not sure what to wear. My routine is disrupted.  I usually lay out what I will wear for my run the next day as I’m getting ready for bed. This preparation the night before nearly always ensures that I will actually get my butt out of bed to run.

I have a large selection of running shorts and shirts to choose from. Oops, did I say “large” selection? Perhaps the fact that I own over 50 running tops and probably a slightly smaller quantity of running shorts and tights, qualifies me for the “extra-extra-large” category regarding my selection and variety of running clothes.  Magnificent Abundance – Gotta love that.

A Rainbow In My Closet

I do have a rainbow in my closet. It’s this need to be color coordinated; I don’t know where that stems from. Okay, yes I do. I get it from my mother, who has to be matched and coordinated right down to her shoe laces.  But besides my color coordination fixation, having a wide selection of colors to choose from is the way I keep myself energized and excited to get up and run. The concept of a new pair of running shorts or shirt can keep me going for a week. Sometimes months, if I really like them. 

Yes, you could say it is an obsession of sorts. My friends and family used to give me a hard time about how much running apparel I had, wondering why I needed more. Once I explained that new running clothes keep me motivated, I don’t get nearly as much grief about it. So the downside of my treasure trove of choices is that I have a harder time deciding what to wear. Not truly a downside, but a consideration, nonetheless.

Eventually I get the hang of the transition from summer to the fall season, and how to dress for it.  More layering is required.  I don’t like to be too hot while running, but it’s better to be able to take something off than to get too cold. Getting chilled causes problems like injuries or illness, not to mention, having to cut my run short due to inadequate forethought and preparation. 

Now, after writing this blog post, I’m thinking it’s time for a trip to my favorite local running store for some socks or a new running top maybe? I’m going to need to transition to long sleeves here soon. Or maybe a lightweight jacket? I’m thinking a new one in red would be a good choice.  

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner

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Probably a year ago or so, T and I went to the grocery store. We were in a hurry and only needed to pick up a couple of things. So as we entered the store, she suggested I go get the olive oil, and she would go get the milk and yogurt. She’d be right back.

As I got to the aisle where I needed to go, I noticed someone had broken a bottle. Not wanting to get in the way, and trying to stay out of the glass and oil mess, I went down another aisle.

On her way back to find me, T was considering how it had probably been a bad idea, sending me for olive oil, when I couldn’t see to read the bottles. Arriving at the aisle where I was supposed to be, presuming I would still be there, struggling to pick out a bottle of olive oil, and instead, finding a store employee cleaning up the broken bottle of oil and another guy grumbling and mumbling and generally throwing a fit, she was alarmed. As she heard the cranky man saying “What’s the problem? It’s not that difficult to pick a bottle of olive oil. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal. It shouldn’t take that long. Just pick one and get going,” she immediately assumed that I had been the one to break the bottle of olive oil. After all, that is where I had been heading when she left me, and the fact that I can’t see that well, and she’d just been contemplating that it would be hard for me to do and….here’s a broken mess, and … I’m nowhere around and …here’s an irritable guy… well, it just made sense…Right?

So T, her feathers ruffled like a mama bird, and feeling protective, confronts the guy: “She’s blind!”

Perplexed, he says “Who? What are you talking about?”

Ready to take him on, she’s immediately vigilant and aggressive. “She’s legally blind; she can’t see very well! She didn’t do it on purpose.”

The man of course is confused, and is just staring at her. Defensively he asks “Who?”

“It’s hard for her. She’s blind. You don’t have to be so rude!”

He defiantly protests, “What? I’m talking about myself! I can’t figure out which olive oil I was supposed to get.”

Now realizing that she had been a bit hasty in her presumption, but too pumped up with adrenaline to let it go and be embarrassed yet, why not dig the hole deeper? She wonders should she get olive oil while she’s there in that aisle, or not? So she asks the guy, “So did she pick up any?”

You can imagine this poor man’s head exploding, never having seen me, let alone known of my existence, peeved at being yelled at and falsely accused, and most likely still confused as to why and about what. From his perspective, the whole encounter was ludicrous, and undoubtedly an exercise in insanity. I’m sure he thought he was dealing with a crazy lady who was coming at him from some other landscape, cause he didn’t have any frame of reference for this conversation. Incredulous, he said, “Pick up what?!!”

Calming a bit, and realizing that she’d unfairly and unintentionally pushed him right to the edge, she withdrew. “Never mind,” she said turning around to go search the store for me….

Hey, everyone needs a champion! Right?

How ‘bout it?

Vision Runner

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