I'm not dead yet!

I n the classic 1975 comedy Monty Python and the Holy Grail, the royal guards walk through the medieval village calling for the townsfolk to "bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" An old man being carried over the shoulder of his son is crying out quite emphatically, "I'm not dead yet!" It's a phrase that I utter to myself after almost every workout. In the first minutes of a run/walk, I do sometimes feel like I am being dragged kicking and screaming into moving, exercising. And this journey, it's goal, sometimes feels like a quest for the Holy Grail. Elusive, mythical, grand in it's implications but also personal and intimate. There's this thing that seems so unattainable, but has profound meaning. And you embark on the quest to find it knowing full well that the odds are against you and it has always eluded you before. Yet, despite these insurmountable odds, off you go on the journey, searching, pursuing.

What is interesting to me though, is that in every story telling some version of the quest for the Holy Grail (and I tend to reference films, such as Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, The Davinci Code, the aforementioned Monty Python, and my personal favorite, The Fisher King,) the actual attainment of the Grail itself is secondary. What figures most importantly is the journey. Every character starts out searching for the object, the goal. But what happens is that along the way towards that goal they learn things about themselves, and about life. They are richer because of what is gained on the journey. Indy and his dad find common ground and reaffirm the love between a father and son; Robert Langdon discovers a renewed sense of faith and balance between man and god; Jeff Bridges' character in The Fisher King learns to place the needs and well being of others above his own. What matters is the journey. The path. I may never finish a marathon (I sure intend to though!) But each step along the way yields it's own rewards. Those rewards are physical of course (losing weight, building up strength, more energy.) However, they are just as much emotional and spiritual as well. It's a journey about overall well being. You start to change your habits of mind. Things that have been "I cant's" for so long (I can't run more than 2 minutes; I can't get out of bed at the crack of dawn; I can't go more than a day without eating meat,) slowly turn into I cans. I can run 6 minutes without stopping. I can get out of bed at 5:30 and go out to walk in the snow. I can survive (and even enjoy) 2 weeks of mostly vegetables, fruits, grains, and even like it! (ASIDE: Tonight, however, is the first night of Passover. All bets are off. Matzoh ball soup and turkey here I come!) 

So, with that said, this weeks stats:

Weight Sunday 3/17   283 lbs.

Weight Sunday 3/24   281 lbs.

Total weight loss to date:  7.7 lbs.

A smaller amount, yes, but still went down. I know where I went off the rails a little bit. (It's amazing what a misplaced dinner roll or two can do to your metabolism. Course correction on tap this week!)

Mon.  3/18  run/walk 2.15 miles  31:30 min   (alternating 3 min and 5 min runs with walk time in between)

Wed. 3/20  run/walk 2.82 miles   42:00 min (upped the running portions to 4 min and 6 min ) 

Fri. 3/22   run/walk 3.15 miles    49:05 min (4 min/6 min running again)

Sat. 3/23  walk 3 miles   1 hr.

Total miles this week: 11.12 miles

Last week I mentioned briefly that I am discovering the simple joy of going out very early in the morning. Last week I did that 2 out of my 4 days. Monday was at the rec center, and Saturday was out in the neighborhood. There is something to be said for being up when no one else is. There is a quiet that we almost never get to experience in our waking, regular daytime hours. Even at the rec center (which was practically empty at 5:30 am,) the contrast between the bright florescent light of the gym and the pitch black outside the windows is striking and eerie at times. But also calming. However, the time I notice the serenity of it the most is Saturday mornings when I'm outside. In our neighborhood, the only thing you hear besides your own footsteps is the occasional cry of the coyotes in the adjacent woods. They are far off, voicing their last claims to the darkness before they drift of to sleep. I find myself listening to things more than I usually do. More than I think we all usually do. At some point I put headphones on and listen to NPR on that walk, but not until I've taken time to just listen. Last Saturday was especially interesting. Being out that early (I was on the streets at 5:40am) is a fortress of solitude. You are alone with your thoughts, your body. Nothing to keep you company but the darkness (and the fading coyotes.) There was a fresh dusting of snow on the ground. Nothing substantial, but just enough to make white all the lawns that were green and brown the day before. 

Stepping out of my house, I immediately noticed different sets of animal tracks crisscrossing my front yard. Rabbit tracks here. Deer tracks there. A cat had come right up to my front porch. These tracks were all over the neighborhood, and I began to feel like perhaps I'm not as alone as I had thought. This feeling was solidified when to my surprise about 75 yards down the street from my house progressing in the same direction I was now headed, were the footprints of not a wild animal, but another person! The shoes were significantly smaller than mine. My best guess would be a woman, size 6 or 7. Here was someone crazy like me! Actually, they were probably crazier. Their footprints were spaced farther apart than mine which meant only 1 of 2 things. They were really tall, or they were running. Due to the size of the feet, I figured it was the latter. She had been out early. And she was fast. My first reaction was "Damn it! This is my time. My route. How dare you come out here and go the same route I'm going, and be faster!" That reaction quickly faded as I watched her footsteps and began to appreciate and admire what she was doing out here in the wee pre-dawn chilly Rochester hours. I was envious (in a good way,) and even felt aspiration. To get out here and fly. God, that had to feel great! I began to listen some more and hoped I would pick up on the crunch of her footsteps. I felt like some sort of tracker scouting the frozen wilderness, scanning the footprints for a change in pace. (OK, a real tracker would have put their ear to the ground too, but shit was cold!)  Once or twice I stopped to listen, but couldn't pick her up. In the end, the only footsteps I could hear were my own. She did follow the exact same 3-neighborhood route I take though. And at one point, I came across her footsteps side by side with her own tracks as she clearly had doubled back, the same way I would be doing. She was faster, and earlier. Maybe our paths will cross some Saturday morning. Maybe by then, I can fly by her side for a little bit.

The experience of seeing her tracks was a reminder of the dual nature of this whole endeavor. Running is solitary. It can be lonely. But it's also communal. Someone is out when you are. Someone went even earlier than you because, like you, they are on a journey. They are trying to attain the unattainable. In 6 months and 17 days, I'll be adrift in a sea of humanity. Side by side with 45,000 other brave souls. Each with their own story. Their own journey. Their own reasons for doing this thing. We will all be together in our solitude. That is the paradox

So, why run a marathon?

Because I'm not dead yet!

All roads lead to Chicago!