I’m not a fast runner. I’ll never win a major race, and I’m not particularly interested in going after a big marathon. I just like to run. Similarly, I’m kind of a lousy reader— slow, prone to mixing up letters and words, easily distracted. Yet, I love to read, and I love to run. I also love to read about running. And I’m in luck: there is lots of great writing on the subject, from technical manuals to memoirs to novels to philosophy. While I love a good geek-out, it’s these latter categories that really grab me. Maybe because running can be so solitary and long miles give us time to think, writing on running is often perceptive and introspective. In fact, much of this writing is really more about living in the world than it is about putting on foot in front of the other.
I certainly haven’t read every book about running (yet). But I find myself coming back to some favorites. The books I return to share a theme of running not just as a sport, but as a conduit for humanity. The first one that pulled me in was Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Fans of Murakami’s fiction will recognize his voice: keen observation, simple description, slightly magical air. He writes about the routines of running, the suffering, the odd sense of comfort, and how these mirror the writing life. Reading it was meditative for me. Another classic, Running & Being, from the so-called “philosopher king” of running George Sheehan, delighted me in a different way. The chapters are titled things like “Living”, “Discovering”, “Learning”, “Racing”, and “Meditating”. Sheehan, like Murakami, is preoccupied with the suffering of running. Is this the secret sauce? Suffering? I don’t know, but there’s something about it that compels runners and writers alike.
Since my recent relocation to Portland, my commute has changed. A lot. Instead of a mile to campus for teaching, or driving to different neighborhoods in Tucson for the mobile clinic, now I’m heading from NE Portland to Marquam hill most days. It’s no fun to drive, and parking is a non-starter. And I hate spending a lot of time driving in the city anyway. The trip takes a while, either way, so I have to make my commuting time count for more than just transportation. Those two-ish hours every day count against the 24 I’m allotted, no matter how you slice it. Is it coming out of my exercise time? My professional reading time? My sleep?!? So I’ve been testing out my commute options! So far, I’ve been. . . Continue reading
It’s January, and I just moved from Tucson to Portland, OR. Winter is peak running weather in Tucson— sunny in the daytime, and cool in the mornings and evenings. In Portland, it’s. . . dark. From 4:30 PM until 7:30 AM. And wet. I’ll treadmill it if necessary, but it sucks the joy from my life. So what’s a girl to do? Adapt. Here’s what I’ve tried so far:
- Gear. Since Ragnar last year, I haven’t had much use for my reflective vest but now I do. I also needed a better headlamp. Now I’m visible, and I can see. Safety? Check. Add that to toasty tops and tights and something to keep my ears warm, and I’m feeling pretty good. I’m still figuring out which shoes are best for slick sidewalks (any advice??), but I’ve got muddy trails covered.
- Adjust expectations. Yes, I can run in the dark. In the rain. I won’t melt. The rain is often kind of misty and drizzly— almost pleasant, in a way. Portlanders aren’t phased the way Tucsonans are— I used to joke that people stayed home if it looked a little cloudy. Here? Bring it on. People are out there. I also thought it would suck running before it’s light out, remembering pre-dawn runs of yore before early hospital shifts. But 6 AM is way better than 4:45, even if it’s dark.
- Learn to love the mud. Pippi, Max and I ran on some Forrest Park trails last weekend and we had a blast— it was sloppy, but who cares? There’s a distinct joy in getting dirty. Own it.
- Back up plans and cross-training. Some days it’s too nasty. A gym membership was in order— so I got one. I can use the treadmill, sure, but maybe a functional training class (kettlebells! boxes! bodyweight!), a rowing workout, or some cycling, too. Cross-training has its own set of benefits that I’m starting to enjoy, like feeling stronger on hills.
What other tips to you have for me to help me run all winter long?
There are lots of tips out there for how to surive running in the heat— basically, go early or late, hydrate appropriately, wear light clothing, run slower. But if you’re not training for a hot race (Badwater? what are you, nuts?), why bother?
Well, there are likely physiological benefits, so if you care about that sort of thing, or you’re looking for a performance goal, keep reading. Training in the heat can potentially improve VO2 max, blood plasma volume, sweat rate, and skeletal muscle force— and this translates into cooler conditions. Neat!