2015 Year in Review

It's been quite a long time since I wrote a blog post. This past September I finished a longer writing project, and since then I've been having a bit of a writing drought. Perhaps the coming new year will be the start of some more productive writing.

These posts are fun to write for me. It's nice to look back at the year and reminisce on all the fun things I got to do--trips, races, life changes--and this year was a big one.

The winter of 2015--from January to March--was probably my best winter of training to date. I had some lofty running goals, so I wanted to start the year off with a solid base. March and April brought some solid race results including four mile, seven mile, and ten mile races.

I ran my first four mile race in March, setting a new PR by default. At the MDRA 7 mile, I took a wrong turn and ended up running over a half mile farther than seven miles, but my unofficial seven mile split was a PR. In April, I ran a 58:32 at the Fred Kurz 10 mile, missing a PR by 13 seconds.

In May, I finally broke five minutes in the road mile, running a 4:55--only three seconds slower than my indoor mile PR. It was in May, however, that I first started feeling those nagging injuries.

In retrospect, I overdid it in the winter. I peaked early, and then nagging injuries kept me from running well for the rest of the year.

I had a terrible race at the Med City 5k later that month, and failed to finish while pacing the Med City Marathon the next day. My calves and right Achilles tendon were killing me, and they would continue to bother me until almost October.

Still, in July I ran a decent race at the Afton 50k, setting a PR (though it was only my second 50k and the course was definitely easier).

Without consistent training, I decided not to race a fall marathon or half marathon. The only half I "raced" was in July where summer head cold combined with hot and humid weather kept me from running well.

Though it wasn't the year I'd hoped it'd be, I did get to pace a few new (to me) races. I had a ton of fun pacing the Fargo Marathon, the Valley Fair Run and Ride Half Marathon, and the Urban Wildland Half Marathon.

Though I had some nice races in 2015, running was only a small part of a big year of changes. The year brought a new job, and, the big one, an upcoming baby, due January 28.

Life will be interesting next year, and running will definitely have to take a bit of a backseat to parenthood. I'm hoping 2016 will be the best yet!

Happy Running!

Race Report: Shoreline Half Marathon

Until further notice, this'll be my last detailed race report for a while. They seem mostly redundant at this point, so I'll probably start using them more as reviews and less as stream-of-consciousness replays of my races.

Embedded in this race report are some clues as to what made this half marathon special. If you think you've solved the mystery, feel free to leave a comment on this blog post, but please refrain from making any comments on other social media outlets.

Way back in July, Laura and I ran the Shoreline Half Marathon. We like to run a race when we travel, and Laura's got this goal of running a half marathon in every state, so we picked this one as part of an extended road trip from Washington D.C. to Niagra Falls, Canada, over to Hamlin Beach State Park in New York, and back to D.C.

 On the shore of Lake Ontario before the race

 The marathon started on the shore of Lake Ontario. Before the race I had been dealing with a pretty miserable cold that ended up turning into an ear infection. Really, I shouldn't have been the one dealing with sickness--that should have been Laura's department.

Up until the night before the race, I was considering switching to the 5k. My last run in Niagra Falls was only two miles--I'd set out to run four or five, but my cold had me so exhausted I ended up running one and then run/walking back to the hotel.

A break during out run in Niagra Falls, ON

Fortunately, I slept really well that night in Niagra Falls, and took several naps in the hotel and in the car ride over to Hamlin State Park. That night at the state park, I slept great--despite a thunderstorm that woke us up with driving rain and lightning, I probably slept a solid nine hours. Unfortunately, Laura was a little nervous and didn't sleep as well. Besides huddling down in severe weather safety position, she also had to use the bathroom in the middle of the night--a more common occurrence lately.

The next morning I woke up feeling the best I'd felt in days. This turned out to be a mixed blessing. It was hot and humid, but my newfound feeling of well-being gave me a false confidence in my ability to run a fast race.

The first two miles of the race were by far my fastest. The rest of the race was about survival. The course was mainly through the rural area surrounding the state park, and unfortunately I was so miserable during the last two miles that I wasn't able to enjoy the section of the course along Lake Ontario.

Laura fared better than me. She ran the race for fun, taking her time and soaking up the scenery.

Since it was a small race, I somehow managed to win my age group by finishing under an hour and thirty minutes.

Although Laura didn't win an official award, she did manage to set a PR if you consider the fractional aspect of her time.

After the race we enjoyed some post race refreshment, and I received a nice trophy-looking thing along with a jar of delicious, organic, natural peanut butter. Then we dipped our legs into the chilly Lake Ontario water.

I'm going to go have me some of that peanut butter right now. Leave a comment below (not on Facebook) if you think you've solved the embedded clue.

Run well.

Pied Beauty

On a run yesterday, a poem popped into my head. I wrote an explication of "Pied Beauty" for my capstone class for English Literature. Enjoy:

"Pied Beauty"

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; 

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; 

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                                Praise him.

by: Gerald Manley Hopkins

I love this poem. Listen to a recording at the Poetry Foundation website.

"Pied Beauty" popped into my head because of all the variance of color and diversity of life I saw as I ran along the Minnesota River.

I've been into reading and listening to poetry a lot more the past couple years, and after teaching poetry to middle and high school students for the last four years, I'm getting more confidence in sharing some poems I've written. I decided to try writing a poem similar to "Pied Beauty" in that I used a similar theme and the same meter and rhyme pattern.

"River Trail Run"

Concrete and steel arching overhead 

   below bronze and olive stained, dark flowing water

onto hard-packed paths by puddles punctuated,

           whose surfaces reflect crimson red.

All fauna and flora each Creator's daughter

    seemed by day and season elated. 

Riveted rust-stained beams, repaired, replaced,  

  joined the sound of men's work and of their laughter.

Watching workers, I hesitated 

    desiring more time, I have now raced

                          blesséd.

Obviously I'm far less talented of a poet than the late Mr. Hopkins. Still, imitation is the highest form of flattery, so I'm hoping Mr. Hopkins isn't rolling in his grave or planning on haunting me until I take this poem off my blog.

 Run well.

The Blessings of Running: Senses

Lately, I've been feeling a little down. Besides feeling an emotional ennui, I've also been dealing with a lot of aches and pains. Running has not been easy.

A couple of weeks ago, I caught part of an On Being episode on the radio as I was driving. The interview was so intriguing, I had to wait in my driveway to finish a section of the interview.

Long story short, I downloaded the podcast, "The Inner Landscape of Beauty." On that episode, Krista Tippett interviewed John O'Donohue, an Irish poet and philosopher. O'Donohue's thoughts, blessings, and poetry spoke to me. While I could write about O'Donohue, the On Being episode, and his book "Anam Cara" for much longer than you would read, I'll instead share some thoughts on one of his blessings.

Running has truly blessed me, and though it's been more painful and less fluid recently, it's still been a needed escape. Here is one of O'Donohue's blessings from his book "Anam Cara."

"A Blessing for the Senses"
 

May your body be blessed.
May you realize that your body is a faithful and beautiful 
  friend of your soul.
And may you be peaceful and joyful and recognize that your 
  senses are sacred thresholds.
May you realize that holiness is mindful, gazing, feeling, 
   hearing, and touching.
May your senses gather you and bring you home.
May your senses always enable you to celebrate the universe 
  and the mystery and possibilities in your presence here.
May the Eros of the Earth bless you.

– John O’Donohue in "Anam Cara"

Being mindful takes practice. Feeling my feet on the ground when I run, directing my gaze on a solitary spot, or allowing my thoughts and my body to be still are not easy for me.

Still. Being present is food for the body and spirit. Walking, running, or being still without the buzz of a radio, the mindlessness of a smart phone, or the intrusiveness of a television seem foreign to many people.

I'll end with a poem of my own:

"Presence"

My senses are full,

feeling 
 Minnesota summer air
 humidity and sweat clinging to my shirt.
 
 listening to 
   hum of traffic, 
   whistling of waterfowl in flight.

smelling 
   respiration of trees 
   fresh mowed grass.

seeing 
   flowing waters of the Mississippi 
   an egret creeping in the shallows.

these are enough for my senses.

Run well.

Relativity

Spending time meaningfully is a lost art. The phrase "killing time" suggest a boredom and lack of productivity, but spending time suggests presence and meaning. One of my favorite poems describes time better than I ever could:

Image credit: pilgrimtraveler.com

 A Time for Everything

 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away; 

a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace

            

                                                  ~ Ecclesiastes

The world is a strange place. When you're young, time has a way of slowing down. At age twenty, a year can seem like a long time--and it is. One year is 5% of a twenty year old's life.

When my great grandmother was spending her last days in the nursing home, she would often say, "The days go by slowly, but the years pass quickly." At the time of her death she was ninety eight years of age. She'd lived a good life, but at the end she spent her days in the routine of the nursing home, and with many of her children having died and her other children and grandchildren living far away, her visitors were few and far between.

When she did have visitors, they cared for her very much. My parents would sneak her beer and pizza. She winced the first time they had her try Diet Coke.

My Aunt Anita, a major in the Air Force and a nurse, dressed down the nursing home staff when she found out Grandma Lohmen was no longer getting dessert for dietary reasons.  My Uncle Mark, a pastor, let another Lutheran pastor experience a righteous rebuke when he found out Grandma Lohmen wasn't receiving regular pastoral visits and communion.

Time is a funny thing. In our modern world, it has become the enemy. People rush from task to task, fighting the hectic demands of work and constant communication with people in far away places. How many times do we see a group of friends sitting together, checking Facebook or sending text messages to people who aren't there?

Others who are sick, in the hospital, or passing days in an empty house or the room of a nursing home experience time at a much slower pace. Time can make one downright depressed.

When running, loneliness rarely creeps into my mind. I can be content with my inner world as I experience the movement of the outer world around me. I can run with a group of people as we share stories, laugh, and exert ourselves together.

Time is a strange thing, but it's not the enemy. Time is a gift. Spend it wisely.

Run well.

Jeff the Cyclist, Poetry and Art

Jeff the Cyclist is either Lance Armstrong, Bill Watterson, or a combination of the two.

Image Credit at: Go Comics

Ponder this as you read my bicycling poem:

I wrote the first draft of this poem in April of 2014 as I was biking to work:

"Splattering"

The splattering, gritty muck,
that flings from my tires
as I pedal down the street
     goes unnoticed.

I push the pedals
down, standing occasionally
to drive the gear at a high RPM
to drive the cogs on the back.

As the chain revolves
around the gear in
a faster circle,
my thoughts follow suit.

Around they go--
approaching my problem from
every possible angle until
      my thoughts are exhausted.

Which is fortunate--
my mind is tired now,
and the exhaust from the cars
fills my lungs so I
slow down.

I am home now.
Street dirt coats my bike
my legs
my lungs.

My thoughts, however
have stopped spinning and
my problem is exhausted.

Run another one of my poems in Run Minnesota, the July/August issue. You can pick them up from a variety of running stores in the Twin Cities area.

Read more about Bill Watterson here in Mental Floss:
TEAM ‘CUL DE SAC’ AUCTION: Rare Watterson painting sells for $13K.

Time to Think

During the school year, I generally enjoy running by myself. Although I draw a lot of my energy from being around other people, running alone gives me some much needed time for solitude and reflection.

Sitting still and relaxing during times of stress have never been easy for me. The motion of a bike ride or a run helps me work out my frustrations and anxiety while I think about my "problems." I often decide that certain things are not worth the emotional energy I spend as I push my body through a training run.

Backwaters of the Minnesota River near a trail through Fort Snelling State Park

Besides dealing with stressful situations, I also have time for contemplation. Running through wooded areas, along water, or, near other athletes give me energy for becoming a better friend, family member, and resident of earth.

Intrinsically I know I'm no better than any other human being, and I try to live by the verse, "in humility, consider others better than yourself." Often it is easy for me to become self-righteous, questioning others' motivations and actions. On a run I can think about the good qualities of people I'm having a hard time with, and I can realize that I have no idea what their motivations are or why they act the way they do.

Riding my bike to work, I'm often remind how much easier life is than I make it out to be in my mind. I have food, clean water, shelter, and more possessions than any human could possibly need. I don't have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. Loving family, friends, and a community of believers at my church are thinking of me, praying for me, and offering me support--especially in times of stress.

And you, readers of this blog, have offered me a forum where I can share some of my inner thoughts, free from judgment. Admitting weakness, failure, anxiety, and insecurity is not easy for me to do. Too often I've been told, "You're overreacting," or, worse, "What you need to do is..."

Listening is a lost art. I'm not the world's best listener--I'm often thinking of what I want to say rather than really hearing the words of the people around me.

Although listening doesn't always come naturally to me, reading does. Reading an e-mail, Facebook post, or text message is easy for me. Responding to a difficult situation through those mediums is not.

Those who have helped me through difficult situations in life haven't always been those who have given me advice. Rather, they have been the ones who have said, "I don't know what to tell you, but I'm sorry you're going through this," or, "what can I do to help?" or, "I'll keep you in my thoughts."

So, to all of you, thanks for listening.

Run well.