Running the Sahara

My friend Andrea, whom I was lucky enough to meet through Trifuel, has been a role model since meeting her a year and a half ago. Not only is she chasing her third Ironman, but she's taken up ultra-running and makes it seem so alluring. She also is constantly taunting/daring/ encouraging me to try one with her some day, but so far I've demurred. But, I've constantly been leery, boy is that a LOT of running, and especially with the tendonitis I've been battling since 2007, even a once-simple marathon seems out of my reach.

Tonight was my standard Thursday night women's run with Potomac River Running, and for the first time in a while I was the slowest one there. Granted, I've missed the last two weeks between Granni's funeral and just emotional/physical exhaustion. So maybe I haven't put in a really hard run since January. But also just that the women there tonite were good, including the newcomer who explained that her slow pace was a 9:30 mile. Amy (the store caboose) stood me up, so I was in for some work to make sure that I wasn't the one who got dropped. Long story short -- thank God for a few traffic lights and the headwinds which had us change our route, I managed to hang on. Accounting for stops at lights, I ended up averaging about a 9:13 pace for the 4.5miles. Dang fast for me!!! I came home frozen, and spent a good twenty minutes in a hot shower trying to thaw out.

Surfing channels with Dan (that's him in the middle between my two nephews in a photo from his visit last May) I saw that Showtime was showing "Running the Sahara", which I'd heard about but never seen. I didn't think we got that channel,but Daniel clicked it just to check, and sure enough, we came in about halfway through the movie. I was instantly entranced. Obviously we missed the beginning where they likely described their motivations and purpose, but instead were thrust right into the middle of the expedition. Watching the emotional peaks and valleys, trying to understand even a fraction of what their minds and bodies were experiencing, the aches from my run just an hour earlier suddenly seemed less acute.

I finished watching with tears rolling down my cheeks, moved by the same emotions I feel watching anything from the Tour de France, to Ironman races, to any demonstration of man pushing the limits of his abilities. A thread on Trifuel the last day or two is questioning triathlon as art. While I don't think of my own training as art (more like plodding along!), I do find beauty in images (whether still or live) of athletes in motion. Is beauty art? If so, the power I find in these images is, to me, art as powerful as the most beautiful scenes in the museums and cathedrals of Europe.

And suddenly, motivation I'd been seeking has presented itself. The power of the spirit to reach beyond the possible. Suddenly, a simple little 60min workout seems like nothing. As I continue to put out there my desire to push my own limits - an Ironman, maybe an ultra run - draw strength from the achievements of others. Why am I seeking these metaphorical mountain tops? What draws me?

Maybe it's the idea that I will someday see my own journey as art. That, in the words of Christina Aguilera, "I am beautiful in every single way". For now, watching others and gaining faith in my own possibilities is enough. And Andrea, don't think that part of that dream doesn't involve joining you at a starting line somewhere and someday!