And they say running is a metaphor...

Its these guys again.  Time send them to their next life.  They were OK.  Laces didn't seem to stay tied very well.  And they began to tear around the tops.  But I had some good memories, some great runs, and put in my fair share of miles wearing them.  

The last run tonight was good... at least now I'm ready to retire them.  I ran with my friend Kristin, who I often run with on Tuesday nights at Niketown, when I get to hear about her life and she hears all about mine.  

So when life throws in little plot twists, like a relationship ending, this is exactly why we need both girlfriends and running buddies.  When we're lucky enough that they are one in the same person, this is why running is cheap therapy.

It is ironically appropriate that I retire my shoes just as my relationship with Serge ends.  Technically I should have stopped running in them after my run Sunday morning, but I wasn't quite ready to put them to rest yet.  Actually, maybe I should have replaced them 50 miles ago, when I noticed them tearing in places they shouldn't, and I noticed my knees starting to hurt a little.  If relationships are measured in running shoes, Serge and I lasted through multiple pairs.

Maybe it is not a perfect metaphor though...running shoes are pretty easy to just replace-tomorrow I will run in a new pair and think nothing of it.  The timeline for moving on from a relationship isn't so simple.  Especially when you weren't quite ready for it to end, even if maybe part of you knows it was time.

But, like running, every time I stop running in one pair of shoes, I always know that there will be another pair.  And, as one very wise running mentor once reminded me, just keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other.  Constant Forward Motion. 

Never judge your fitness when you're running up a big hill

A few years ago I was about 2 miles into a 10 mile run in Central Park.  All of a sudden, I was overwhelmed by a feeling that I must be in horrible shape, this was too hard, maybe I should turn around and go home to try again tomorrow.  Up until this point, I thought I felt OK, but in an instant, I determined that I must be an awful runner and should probably give up the sport entirely.

Then, I happened to look up from sucking wind and feeling like a terrible runner and realized that I was running uphill.  Granted, Central Park is not exactly Colorado, but the North end of the park definitely has some inclines you can't ignore.  

The great epiphany was realizing that running felt really hard because I was running uphill.  And uphill is supposed to feel more difficult than the flats or downhills.  It takes significantly more energy and noticeably more effort.  This is according to my high school physics teacher, as well as all of the wisdom/intuition I've accumulated in my life up until this point.

Never ever judge yourself as a runner when you're running uphill.  Never ask yourself how you are feeling or in any way assess your performance.  When running up a hill, never be critical of your ability (or irrationally conclude you have none).

A hill will distort your perception.  But the reason it feels harder is because running uphill IS harder.  So wait until the top of the hill, when the terrain folds over until a nice downhill stretch, and keep going while you shake out your arms and catch your breath.  Then you can start thinking about your running.  

Obviously, this applies to much more than running, but the principal still holds:  Never judge anything based on a distorted up-hill assessment.

On a final note, I had a great high school assistant cross-country coach who has forever shaped my life with his little tidbits of simple wisdom.  For example,"if you want to win the race, all you have to do is just run faster than everybody else."  

We trained in the foothills of Boulder, Colorado, so there was not a single run we could go on that didn't include hills.  He would remind us daily, "A hill is an opportunity."  Another piece of good advice.