Run With Mu

A slow n’ easy four miles today at Norbuck Park, with C. tagging along for part of it. Fun, and the butterflies were out in bright squadrons. But my body is jonesing for more work — I can actually feel its impatience and skittishness with my reduced mileage over the past month. I think it’s time to get back on some sort of intensified off-season training plan, and I started scouring the training books on my bookshelves tonight looking for ideas.

As a runner, I find one of the most attractive things about Zen Buddhism as a spiritual practice is being able to call it a “practice,” and trying to live it as one. I like that word “practice” because it means something active and alive, something you need to work at. And like running, Zen requires training, persistence, and discipline. It’s a progression, something you’re constantly in training for.

When I first started meditating, I could barely sit still for five minutes, and that five minutes seemed like an eternity. I’ve graduated to longer meditation periods, up to 30-40 minutes at a time, and while some days it doesn’t seem any easier than that first time I fidgeted and stared at a wall, it is something I had to get “in shape” to do. I slowly progressed from five minutes to 15 to 20, then to an all-day “Zazenkai,” then to weekend sesshins (the 50K ultra of Zen) and week-long sesshins (the Badwater 135 of Zen).

Probably the two hardest physical and mental things I’ve ever done, and I don’t know which would rank higher, were my first week-long sesshin and my first 100-mile finish. And that’s the other part of Zen that holds my interest as a runner: it’s intensely physical. The body, especially your posture and breathing, play key roles in the quality of your Zen practice.

Tricycle Magazine recently began their “Big Sit,” a 90-day meditation training program that, like many running programs, starts small and works toward longer and more involved sessions. It’s sort of the equivalent of a first marathon training guide. This companion book serves as a great meditation “training manual,” if you’re at all interested. Being a born list maker, I enjoy reading books with pages and pages of training schedules, and I was delighted to learn one had been produced for meditation. It’s on my shelf, next to several well-thumbed books of running training plans.

Now to cobble together an off-season running program that’s more intense, yet stops short of a full-blown race training plan. What to do?

My first run above single digits since the Rocky Raccoon 100, today at White Rock Lake – 10.4 miles. The weather was terrific.

Our younger daughter was home for spring break recently, and at mealtime I said this blessing: “We’re grateful to those who helped bring this food to our table. May it nourish our bodies and give us energy to serve others, as others have served us.”

“Are you praying to God, or to Buddha, or to what?” she said when I was done, a mischievous smile on her face. She enjoys teasing about my ”weirdo Zen stuff.”

But it’s a challenging question – after all, no deity in particular is mentioned in that blessing. And Buddhists don’t pray to Buddha – nothing is worshipped in Zen Buddhism. (Which opens the door for an increasing number of practitioners of what’s called “Christian Zen” – in fact, my Zen teacher is a former Jesuit priest. Although I wouldn’t paint myself in the Christian Zen corner, either.) So is it “God,” or “Buddha”? What a great little koan from my daughter!

The more I practice Zen, the harder I find it is to draw the boundaries. After all, many things came together to make that mealtime happen: the sun, the rain, the farmers, the farmers’ hired help, the companies and their workers who boxed it all up, the truck drivers who shipped it, my wife who helped chop the onion and garlic … a lot of work from a lot of sources, and that short blessing is a way of thanking them all and renewing a vow to return the favor each day, in some small way.

And who successfully completes a 100-mile ultra, really? Is it the runner? The good weather? The person who wrote the perfect training plan the runner found on a website? The Internet, who made finding that training plan quick and easy? (Thanks Al Gore!) The aid station worker who cheerfully grilled the runner a cheese quesadilla at mile 74, just when the runner was fading a bit? The race director and his helpers who took extra time to mark the course so carefully that no one could possibly get lost? When I consider my life like this, most traditional human conceptions of “God” or “Buddha” start to seem pretty small and limiting.

Just four miles cross-country and on trails through the park tomorrow. Looking forward to it. And thanks to everyone and everything making that little Sunday afternoon run possible.

Following my first 100 mile race, I decided to take an extended break from racing and training. I won’t participate in a race again until sometime in fall 2009.

I really don’t know what the plan for the fall will be, but it could involve a return trip here and possibly another go at 24 hours here, if they decide to hold Ultracentric again and a few fundamental changes are made. Since my summer plans focus on traveling to Death Valley and helping my friend Nattu notch his third Badwater finish, I’ll have fewer options for travel this fall — which is fine with me. I’m excited about helping Nattu and experiencing my first Badwater.

So far as Zen practice goes, the tentatively planned full-week sesshin in San Francisco during August is no longer a possibility. I’ll have to settle for a weekend retreat in nearby Chico, Texas in May.

On many levels, 2009 increasingly seems to be about reverting to the tried and true. But Badwater will be a whole new experience, and an interesting one at that. And I’ve had very helpful experiences at a weekend sesshin held no more than a 20-minute drive from my house.

In Zen and running, it’s not so much about how many races, how exotic the location or how long the sesshin, but more about my openness toward the experience that I can actually have. I’m looking forward to the rest of the year.