Only the Zen You Bring With You

Five thousand meters is a beastly race distance. Very unpleasant. Then it’s done and you can get on with your day. But for those few minutes, barf.

I posted on Threads before last weekend’s Governor’s Cup, “I am more nervous for a road 5k tomorrow than I was for a trail 30k a month ago.” It’s true, and here’s why:

Races like the nineteen-mile Don’t Fence Me In let a person fall apart and put themselves back together many times. There’s space to shake out. Room to ease in, find a rhythm, and regroup. Five-thousand meters offers no such grace.

The only Zen you find on tops of mountains is the Zen you bring there.
~ Robert M. Pirsig

5k is “run what you brung.” There’s no time out there to work through your shit. It’s all about the fitness and Zen (or lack thereof) you bring to the start line. I showed up to the GovCup tense, tight, and constricted—and raced that way.

In spite of a sticky note outlining a just-fast-enough-for-PR pace and “easy, steady, go” progression, I started too fast, never settled down, and ran out of gas in the last mile. That said, my fitness is solid for late spring, and was enough for my second fastest 5k ever and an award that says, “senior.”

First, they start sending you the AARP emails, then it’s the trophies.👴

Governor’s Cup 5k
June 8, 2024
18:51 (6:04 pace)
PR, 2010: 18:39 (6:00 pace)
Place: 9/1149 (1st in division)

Did I have the thirteen seconds in me? Maybe. It would have taken more disciplined pacing and a quieter  mind—both of which might be improved simply by racing shorter distances more often.

What helps you line up on race day calm and focused? Please share in the comments.

So, yes… I get anxious before races. And why not? It matters. I care.

Five More Ways My Running Was Human Last Week

I’d had a tough work day. A run is usually the antidote, but I was struggling to find any energy. Lisa noticed and said it was reassuring to know I’m mortal. Later, our son asked for advice (we call it “dadvice”) on navigating the self-doubt of an upcoming mountaineering adventure.

Both things got me thinking about the clashes-with-self we face as runners and humans. Here are a few that crept into my practice last week:

• It seemed selfish. I’ve written about this. It’s a constant effort to recognize when guilt is percolating to the surface and shift my attitude toward gratitude.

• I questioned the balance. Between work (eight hours), Running Lightly (two to three hours), and training (also two or three), I felt something had to give in my days. Training usually goes to the mental chopping block first.

• My motivation was low. Down days compound and I had several. I was tired, spring rains blew in sideways on thirty mile-per-hour gusts, and at times I questioned the why of it all.

• I felt lazy. Last week was a mini-taper for the 5k. Volume and intensity were lower. This brings a sneaky kind of heaviness, wherein I know rationally I’m not slacking, but my sly little pea brain tries to convince me otherwise.

• My legs were wooden. Also predictably in taper week, the slow pace and low mileage meant these fifty year-old toothpicks took longer to find their groove. Every run started with a stiff shuffle that couldn’t be willed away.

The Finish Line

As we face ourselves daily—working through fear, doubt, and occasional bouts of confidence—can we find faith in process?

Can we take counterintuitive comfort in knowing we’ll have the same questions tomorrow, and that *gasp* there are no answers?

We can’t beat ego with ego, one thought with another. So, how do we transcend thinking to inhabit a place of being?

Don’t know about you, but I show up for myself and run.

Run lightly,
-mike

Running Lightly is building a community interested in the soul beneath the surface.