Tomorrow will mark my 3rd official half-marathon, added to the one full marathon I ran last fall. A bit of me is sad that I am not running another full tomorrow as I had originally planned. But most of me is just happy to be running.
It’s hard to believe it, but I’ve been a ‘runner’ for more than half of my life now. But it’s only been in the last 5 or so years that I have run in races to speak of. I’ve had my share of injuries, most from overuse or bad technique or posture. But I’ve always managed to get back on my feet and on the pavement.
Finishing the Governor’s Cup Marathon, Sept. 2009. I ‘hit the wall’
around mile 18 and had to run/walk for about 3 miles before
regaining the necessary calories (energy) to run the remaining 5 miles.
To run a marathon is an amazing feat. According to Wikianswers, only 1 person in 1000 runs a marathon in any given year. And that assumes no repeat-runners, which probably means the number is more like 1 person in 3000 or 5000. Either way, doing so puts you in a very special class of people. Likewise for those who run a half. In my tiny bit of experience, though, I would say that running a full is about 4 times as difficult as the half, because of the lengthened time needed for training and what happens to the muscles in the body between 17 and 22 miles as energy reserves become depleted and the body switches to ‘eating’ protein and fat from within. This is know, appropriately, as ‘hitting the wall’. It can bring feelings of:
- pain
- exhaustion
- nausea
- despair
- confusion
- and more
For those who are under-trained, this can happen on the half-marathon as well, or even in shorter races. It’s amazing how what is essentially a physical breakdown in the body becomes and overwhelming mental/emotional event. What is actually happening is not nearly as horrible as it feels.
A not very funny video depicting what can happen when athletes hit the wall.
What it feels like is a full-body shut down. Like it’s time to curl up in the fetal position and take a lonnngg nap. What it actually is is a switch in the body from burning the readily available carbs; either stored in the muscles or in the bloodstream. At this point, as I mentioned, your body has to consume the fat and/or muscle energy from within. This isn’t as horrible as it sounds. Your muscles repair themselves pretty well afterward, becoming leaner and stronger in the process. But it hurts like hell nonetheless.
This is where meditation comes in. Meditation forces us to simply ‘sit with’ whatever is coming up. Sometimes we do breathing meditations or Loving-kindness, which provide a sort of anchor to keep us in place. But even then, many mental and physical distractions arise that need to be noted and (usually) just let go of. Meditation trains you to slow down – mentally – and watch each arising feeling. I used this last fall during a minor, but still painful, surgery on my leg. I used this last month when ‘runners-knee’ crept into my leg and wouldn’t let go. Being with the pain, seeing it for what it was, allowed me to respond skillfully and stop, walk, feel. Same goes for ‘hitting the wall’. With an inquisitive mind that doesn’t get sucked into the pain itself and the dizzying array of emotions that oddly accompany it, one can walk/run right through it.
Following a 1/2 marathon last September, one week before
my full. I ran fast, winning 3rd place in my age group, but I
aggravated my knee.
In essence, one has the (physical) pain, but one does not suffer due to it. Adam Miller, a new contributor over at Progressive Buddhism, has a post that is relevant to this. In it he states, “Here,
dukkha, in its broadest sense, is the condition of possibility for experience itself. It cannot be expunged.” While I don’t agree with this, it’s a good post and worth a read and your comments if you have them.
After my first half marathon in 2007. I read the book “Mind, Body, and Sport
“
which advocated nose-only breathing, which I managed to do up until the last
sprint of the race.
Another aspect of mindful running is being attuned to one’s body. This is especially key when injuries pop up. I don’t know any runners who have managed to be completely injury-free. But some have managed to catch injuries early and respond to them, keeping them from becoming chronic. I’m on the fence about running with music. I do it sometimes, but I know I’m less in tune with things when I do. I also know that studies have shown it to make runners go faster. But does it also make them more injury-prone? Or more likely to develop long-term injuries?
Anywho… I’m getting sleepy and the race starts in about 7 and a half hours… To bed with me. Wish me luck!
Update on finishing time/place/pace: My time was 145.54, place 241 out of 2361 runners, pace of 8:06/mile.
I was off to a fun, fast start for about 30 minutes before outside-knee pain (return of my runner’s knee inflammation) kicked in. I slowed a bit and it subsided by around 50 minutes, but I could not get back to full speed without the pain – and potential long-term injury – returning, so I kept it slow. I only pushed it in the last 1/4 mile, hammering my leg muscles a bit and my foot, but my knees seem to have held up admirably. The place puts me nearly in the top 10%, which is great. I decided I like the smaller races because of the slim chance I might win a medal (ego); but this one was certainly a pleasure. The pace was great; faster than my training runs -as it should be- but not quite my racing speed due to the nagging knee irritation. But thankfully that didn’t flare up fully, bringing me to a halt and walk. So I’m very thankful for my knees.
American Buddhist Perspectives
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