This week I spent a lot of time with the cats, thinking about posture and trying to figure out whether it was warm and dry enough to go outside. I've read a lot of things that say that running in the cold and rain is good for you because it prepares you for bad conditions you might encounter in races and maybe in life, too. I think this might be true, but I also think that I've reached a point when I would rather not prepare for future trauma and instead just enjoy the good weather I've been offered.
Sometimes I look out the window at the sideways sleet and think, 'Ugh, nasty. But I can do this -- after all, I've run so much farther in much worse conditions.' But lately, I tend to reconsider and think, 'those past experiences have actually made me less excited about ever running in the rain again -- do I really need to torture myself?' Sometimes I think that we, as a culture, focus too much on the 'value' and 'lessons' of painful experiences, the ways we can 'grow' or improve instead of acknowledging that some things don't have silver linings or make us more capable to deal with the future. This dynamic is especially frustrating when, as so often happens, we focus on lessons but don't actually do anything to change, which means we ignore both the pain and the potential. At times, my running has followed this pattern.
Over the past few years, I've gone through many cycles of running and injury. My resolution this year was to break the pattern by trying something different, and to not just pretend or pay lip service to the idea. (Even if it meant going very slowly and not very far.) Using my understanding of Feldenkrais as a guide, my goal is to be more 'relaxed' with my stride by not engaging 'parasitic' muscles and by not manipulating or twisting my frame in ways that lead to pulled groins and strained hamstrings and whatever else I've had to deal with (it's a long list). For me, this means hitting the ground on the outside edges of my feet before rolling up to push off closer to the toes, along with a bunch of other adjustments related to the angle of the pelvis, the coordination of the ankles and the knees, and the swinging of the arms that I also try to consider. All of these ideas apply to walking, too, and sometimes sitting.
By the way, living with cats helps with any assessment of form and posture. I think it's fair to say that cats never engage a muscle if they don't need to.
When I started using this new stride in January and February, I was still getting over the worst of a groin injury and my legs seemed very confused. Even running a few hundred yards felt awkward and left me sore in places I haven't felt in a long time. I'm trying to be patient though, and remind myself that there's no rush or pressure. The objective is to run in a way that's enjoyable and sustainable. And this month, even though I'm still running very slowly, I can feel my body acclimating. I'm regaining some of the distance. I haven't tried any intervals yet, but there are moments when I can feel the speed lurking.
As always, it helps to know that the cats are watching.
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