is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
Postcards from Florida: The pace and the place
Monday, February 8, 2010 In a lovely overlap of vacation time and a work event, Lil E and I have joined my parents in Florida. Last year we landed here in the middle of summer weather. Save for a breeze and some blowing sand, the sun blanketed us for days, making our hours and hours on the beach feel like a million years away from the Chicago winter we'd left behind. Today, it is more like an early spring here, with the sun peeking through the chill sporadically.
Still, we made our way to the beach several times, and I am happy to feel the sand and air and just be away from our everyday lives.
My intent was to take my training runs from the treadmill to the beach.
As I began, the lapping waves and wind eased my posture. Looking at the beach stretched out ahead of me for miles, I felt like it would be an exercise in something much more than watching tenths of a mile tick off on a digital screen.
And then I broke out into a run. The surf chased me. I wove through piles of shells tracing the tide line. I passed small children in fleece jackets and sunglasses, their parents bundled in blankets and older couples combing for treasures. My body was working hard, my breath in time to the Ke$ha playing in my headphones. I ran and I ran and I ran.
For about five minutes. My left calf was throbbing, the ground was getting more and more uneven and I did something I haven't done in months -- I just stopped.
I stopped and I closed my eyes and I took a deep breath, trying not to let the feelings of guilt and failure sink in. When I opened my eyes and saw the pale blue and yellow and pink water reflecting the near-setting sun, the whole scene shifted.
I flipped my playlist over to one that keeps a furious pace to one that is meant to help me breathe deep into my center. I lowered the volume so I could hear the tide sloshing along to the rhythm of each song. Then I started to walk.
I walked and I walked and I walked. Past more babies and parents. Around more shells and water. I walked for a good while and then turned around and walked back to our temporary home.
It wasn't the run I'd hoped to have, but it was the run I had. Maybe that walk didn't contribute to my endurance or how far along I am in my training schedule. But I felt like a tab on my stress had been released, a slow leak of work and relationships and pressures and questions left behind on the beach. That half-hour deflated me in a way my brain -- and maybe my body --- needed.
A few minutes after I changed out of my running clothes, I went back down to the beach. This time, Lil E and my parents with me. He and I raced ahead, had little relays in the sand and exerted any energy we had left from the day.
He ran faster and further than I did most of the time but I was surprised that my leg stopped aching for a while so I could keep up, even beat him in a few races. I was refreshed and with him, and I know it was slowing down only minutes before that helped me have some full-force time with him.
Day one, lesson apparent. I was expecting myself to relax on vacation and still be a hard-charger at the very same time. Maybe if I really, really make time to let down, everything I need will be there when it is really, really time to ramp up. Maybe my body isn't just meant to be trained. Maybe it is to be trusted as well. And maybe this is a good week to let my mind ease, knowing the grooves of discipline will still be well-worn once I find a better setting for me to run, even if that is at home when our vacation is over.
That doesn't mean no more running, but it might mean a lot more walks.
Reader Comments (2)