An Authentic Running Practice

7 02 2012

Recently Dosho Port invited Koun Franz, a young Soto Zen priest, to write a guest post on Dosho’s deservedly popular Wild Fox Zen blog. The post, “Authentic Practice,” discusses what, from Koun’s perspective, an authentic Zen practice should look like in this world of “mindfulness retreats” and other Zen-lite “lifestyle options.”

Koun’s post was eloquent in its simplicity and directness and got me wondering what an authentic running practice should look like. I came to the conclusion it would look a lot like what Koun described for Zen practice …

1. Authentic running is about running, period. We all come to running for different reasons: to lose weight, to blow off some steam, to seek the approval of others. All of these are valid entry points, but eventually I will be frustrated: the weight won’t come off as quickly as I would like, or stay off; when I finish an exhausting run my problems are still with me; I will never be quite as fast or as strong a runner as the runners whose approval I seek. Authentic running is about putting one foot in front of the other, step after step, mile after mile, day after day, regardless of how it makes me feel on any given day or how I feel about it. Running is not a cure-all, a social aid, or a way out of my problems. When I make my running simply about the run, I learn more about myself — and find that my life can be something richer than a continual self-improvement project.

2. Authentic running is experiencing the world fully, physically, moment by moment, rather than merely second-hand or from a safe distance. When I run authentically, I engage the world and myself first-hand: I listen to my body, follow the changing rhythms of my breathing, feel the earth passing under my feet and the wind in my ears. I notice when my effort changes, when my body starts to sputter and tire, and I also notice when the endorphins kick in and nothing seems capable of slowing me down. I take the good and the bad, the faster and the slower, and I keep putting one step in front of the other without judging my effort or myself.

Certainly I honor the competitor in me, and strive to run my best. But in authentic running practice, there are no real winners or losers, no good runs or bad runs, no starting lines or finish lines. Authentic running is simply becoming the act of running, of fully engaging in the simple but liberating practice of moving on foot as swiftly as possible over the earth’s surface, and experiencing it step by step. And when I expand the act of “simply running” into everything I do, I am really and truly running with Mu.





#solitude.com

15 12 2011

During a road race in the past year, I was startled by another runner pulling up beside me, rasping between breaths about what mile he had just passed, how he felt, when he expected to finish. Chatting me up, or maybe some sort of verbal self-motivation technique? Then I realized: he was phoning someone during his race.

That memory no longer seems startling, or even odd. On Facebook and other online venues I find myself increasingly discovering people tweeting, texting, and posting their race experiences while they’re on the run. And it’s not just running: The New York Times recently ran a story about Tommy Caldwell, one of the world’s best rock climbers, who updated fans around the world about his progress while climbing El Capitan in Yosemite Valley.

What were once solitary experiences, valuable confrontations with ourselves, are being self-published into a sort of global theater-in-the-round. One person quoted in the Times article, Katie Ives of Alpinist magazine, said that “instead of actually having the experience be the important part, it’s the representation of the experience that becomes the important part … something is lost.”

How long will it be before: “Tuff sesshin so far; enlightenment ahead #superbuddha.com”?





Through stillness and motion …

8 12 2011

… sitting, running, and life coursing through it all. Goodbye Gran, my last surviving grandparent; hello Clare Ana, our first grandchild. Sad and unexpected goodbyes to several co-workers and friends whose lives ended much too soon; hello to new friends made along the way and visits to friends from decades past. Goodbye corporate world of 30 years; hello specialty running retail store, where I now work as a running shoe specialist.

Through all of these changes, the constants are stillness (through zazen) and motion (through running). I am feeling the call to perhaps race less and simply run more, to spend more time on the cushion and explore the changes hurling their way out of the darkness.

Based on the traditional Chinese calendar, this had been described as a year of rest and relaxed activity. It has been anything but. I can give deep thanks for zazen and for running, those twin sons of different mothers. May they be with me, and I with them, as I continue sifting through the questions of 2011 and whatever lies ahead. “One inch ahead, all is darkness,” goes the Zen saying. Sitting, running, through stillness and motion, I vow not to expect answers, but to breathe with the questions. May the questions of 2012 challenge you in exciting and unexpected ways!





Getting in more than a few miles

11 07 2011

My first official long run training weekend for the 2011-2012 race season went well. Yes, it was hot, but I took my time, followed my breath, ran cautiously and logged nearly three hours on Saturday morning and nearly two more on Sunday.

Recovery was challenging but not unexpectedly so; I obviously still have some heat acclimation work to do and, given the times and temps during both runs, my energy levels were low for most of the weekend. As a result my attitude was a bit on the cranky side too, but at least I was aware of it. All in all, not a bad start to training. I am participating in a sesshin this coming weekend which will make long runs impossible, but my race training will resume in full next week.

Recently I sat immediately after a run and noticed it felt like the third or fourth sit of a zazenkai or sesshin, rather than a first sit. Usually it takes a few sits into a Zen retreat for your mind to stop churning, but I’m guessing that thanks largely to the run I was able to “go deep” pretty much right away. A lot of the mind-emptying you normally have to do in the early part of a zazenkai or sesshin is probably handled quite efficiently during a typical training run … you almost literally run your thoughts into the ground. For some reason, that realization struck me during this particular sit.

I’m more convinced than ever that there are millions of runners all over the world who are meditating and don’t even know it.





Changing the rules: my fall race schedule

6 07 2011

I posted recently about my body telling me it wanted to run more, and how I responded by running more, and how my body responded positively to running more. Things were taken several furlongs further this past weekend when I sat down, did some searching, and came up with a tentative fall race schedule … along with the realization I wanted/needed to start ramping up mileage now, rather than the first of August.

What can I say? My body is telling me it’s ready, and there’s no sense in holding it to a predetermined timeline. I’m starting to run longer again this week, although I’m still many weeks from peak mileage. But it’s time, and it appears racing is still something I truly want to do, rather than just another habit.

This is how a longer off-season can be very helpful: rest, recovery, and reevaluation. Not so much a conscious, thinking reevaluation, but just letting the body do most of the driving. I’ve become a pretty firm believer that your body and gut know a lot of important stuff; your mind just makes 3D movies for your ego to star in. In recent years, I have tried to never enter an off-season with the expectation that I would participate in even a 5K again. I try very hard not to think about racing again at all.

And when I give my body and gut time and space to reconsider things and go with what emerges, the right action usually will be made clear. Then it becomes a matter of aligning my mind to my body’s thinking. Which isn’t always easy, as we typically go about most things the opposite way.

So here’s my tentative race schedule until the end of 2011:

9/17 Tour des Fleurs 20K, Dallas, TX
10/9 Tyler Rose Half Marathon, Tyler, TX
10/22 24 The Hard Way (12-hour version; trail), Oklahoma City, OK
11/19 Wild Hare 50 Mile Trail Run, Warda, TX
12/3 Run Like The Wind 12-Hour (trail), Austin, TX
12/31 Across The Years 24-Hour (lottery dependent), Nardini Manor, AZ

We’ll see about Across The Years (ATY). If not ATY, I’ll find another 24-hour or 100 mile race in the same general time slot to fill the gap. So far as early 2012 goes, I’ll cross that bridge once I’ve crossed a few others.

Goals? I’d like to enjoy and be present with every step. I’d like to log 60+ miles for a 12 hour race (my best is a little over 58). I’d like to crack 100 miles for 24 hours. I’d like to end the season healthy. I’d like to really take pleasure in my training, and realize that training is of course running too. and that running is still something I enjoy and still a vital part of my Zen practice.

A lot of desires for sure. So, here we go. To quote one of guitarist and composer Robert Fripp’s many wonderfully appropriate aphorisms, “With commitment, all the rules change.”





Relationships, running, and racing

27 06 2011

Why do we race? Why do we keep lining up at starting lines, crossing “finish” lines, and starting all over again at another start line? I haven’t participated in a race since March 25, a half marathon, and I haven’t really thought about racing in the future. But there is something in me that is craving more than exercise: over the past two weeks, for no particular reason, I began running two more days per week, and have started running with significantly more intensity than in recent weeks. There was no timetable for this; my body, impatient with the current clock I had set for it, was simply telling me it wanted to run more, and faster. I responded with some caution, but given how well my body has taken to my response, I know now it was the right thing to do.

I have some vague notion of really starting to ramp up mileage again in August, for a race schedule I haven’t even begun to really think about. For me, part of taking time away from racing is to look from a distance and understand my relationship to racing. Part of it is certainly that I still enjoy pushing my body-mind to its limit, and seeing if that limit can be pushed out further somehow. There is also a lot of personal fascination in balancing nutrition, hydration, and pacing issues during a 12- or 24-hour race; it’s like playing the old classic PC game Oregon Trail, but for real.

But, if I’m really honest with myself, my ego enjoys telling people that I’m about to take part in a 50-mile trail race. And, even deeper, there is in me a desire to somehow stand outside of the herd, to find a club (paraphrasing Woody Allen) where, if I’m not the only member, I can at least be counted among the fewer … even though, paradoxically, I tend to not like the spotlight shining on me.

In short, my relationship to running and racing is complicated, because I’m a neurotic mess. But I’m really no different from anyone else; like the late Zen teacher Charlotte Joko Beck (another memorial in this year of memorials) said, we’re all a neurotic mess, really. It’s not until you take time away from something and study it carefully from a distance, the way we do our minds in zazen, that you become aware of just how messy things (and we) are.

Why take time to find out you’re a mess? It helps clarify your relationships to things and makes it easier to laugh at and live with your neuroses — and help avoid the traps, big and small, your egoistic tendencies might push you into. Should I really run two marathons a month for the next 12 months and start a website about it? Why? Am I really capable of a Boston Marathon qualifier, or do I just want to use the phrase “Boston Marathon qualifier” at parties? If you pay close attention, taking time away brings perspective and helps qualify and prioritize the hungers and desires you’re feeling.

But in the past two weeks, my body told me, “run more” and I have responded. It feels right, is the only thing I can think of. Where it will lead in the weeks and months ahead, I can’t really say. For now, I’m just trying to listen.





Every step is important

14 06 2011

“Anything within a performance is significant, whether intentional or not,” says composer, guitarist and composer Robert Fripp. This is certainly true of racing. Just a few seconds’ slip of awareness can lead to bypassing a crucial refueling stop, missing a trail marker and getting lost, or absently tipping any one of another thousand dominoes, toppling over the best laid race plans. Part of a runner’s training is to constantly practice staying with the breath and maintain awareness with every step, always being present in the here and now despite pain and fatigue, despite the ego urging us to go faster, faster. Stay with your breath and body, and continually adjust your race based on their constant feedback. Your mind and emotions make stuff up; your breath and body are what they are, and they never lie. Stay with them, relax in their unerring guidance, and understand every step is important, another few inches closer to your goal. Don’t let one go by unnoticed.





Arrivals, departures

13 06 2011

I wrote about memorials in my last post, and the memorials continue. My 93 year-old grandmother (and last surviving grandparent) died last week, and we attended her service this past weekend. A young mother of two surrendered to cancer after a long struggle, and her funeral is today. All in all, seven deaths since January that have personally touched our family’s lives in one way or another.

This week, I’m running to remember. This coming weekend, I’ll be participating in a sesshin, and with all of the memorials visited so far this year, it will be interesting to see where my thoughts go. Last night I dreamed my wife was starting to tell our two daughters what she had just heard about the death of a 12 year-old they seemingly both knew, but she dissolved into grief without me ever hearing the name. I woke up soon after, the sound of her vividly imagined weeping still in my ear. Deaths both real and fantastic, reality and dream.

At the same time we attend memorials to those gone, we anticipate an arrival: our older daughter will soon give birth to our first grandchild, a girl. How will this emerging life influence our advancing lives, our waking and dreaming? Impossible to predict. But in this year of departure, I know we’ll be grateful for her bright new presence.





The riches of recovery

20 05 2011

The Athlete’s Guide to Recovery: Rest, Relax & Restore for Peak Performance by Sage Rountree (VeloPress)

“No one is going to get rich writing a triathlon book about rest,” Tom Rogers wrote in The Perfect Distance, and quoted in Sage Rountree’s new book. Sad but true. Most hardcore runners and triathletes don’t want to hear about having to rest or recover from anything. You could look at it as one-thirds ego, fear, and delusion: there’s an ego-fed image of indestructibility that many athletes feel they must maintain in order to perform, there’s a fear of taking a fitness hit if you skip a week or even a day of training, and there’s the delusion that rest is somewhat unnecessary and perhaps even detrimental.

Rountree quite clearly and sensibly deflates all of these assumptions and shows how rest, when properly measured and managed, can actually boost peak performance. Her book is a treasure trove of recovery information, with 20 chapters, 2 appendices and references for further reading. No topic is left uncovered: qualitative and quantitative measurements for recovery, active recovery, recovering from injury and illness, nutrition, hydration, meditation, cold and heat, supplements, stress reduction, restorative yoga, massage, self massage … it’s all there, and more. Marathoners, ultramarathoners, triathletes and even just plain stressed out average folk will find a wealth of useful information in The Athlete’s Guide to Recovery.

At times it seems like almost too much information, on too many different (albeit related) subjects. There is simply not enough space and too many relevant topics to delve deeply on any specific aspect of recovery. Personally I felt the all-too-brief chapter on sleep was tantalizing more than satisfying and could easily be expanded into a book of its own, as could the chapter on meditation and breathing. It’s also a little regrettable that a few current “high tech” tools are described and pictured in the book instead of discussed in a more general fashion, since the devices shown will probably date the book within five years. (And as anyone knows who visits here on occasion, I don’t have a lot of faith in high tech solutions to organic problems anyway.) And knowing her deserved reputation as an expert on yoga for athletes, the chapter on restorative yoga was probably a given, although it seems a little cursory given her other yoga books.

But to say there’s not a lot of valuable information here would be very wrong. As a runner in distances up to 50K and a short-course triathlon competitor for the U.S national team, Rountree definitely knows her stuff, and she’s an excellent writer and organizer of information. There are just so many relevant topics covered that at times it feels like drinking from a fire hose. But hey, at least someone finally turned the spigot on. Rest and recovery have been almost taboo subjects in the racing community, something best avoided by popping a few tablets of “Vitamin I” (Ibuprofen) and getting on with more and more training until the wheels finally come off. Unfortunately, hobbling around in a leg cast equals “rest” for many runners. It’s to Rountree’s deep credit that she not only understood the necessity of dealing with this subject seriously, but to leave no stone unturned. And if you’re really interested in delving deeper, she lists a ton of supplemental reference material to get you going. Recommended.





Training Break #196

13 05 2011

One of my teacher friends cautions his students, “When you do zazen, try ‘A’ way. If ‘A’ way doesn’t work, try ‘B’ way.” I bow to the wisdom of his words. I am not really your teacher. You must teach yourself. As far as practice goes, you are not your neighbor. What works for her might not work for you. What works for you now might not work for you next year. Keep it open.

– Robert Aitken, Miniatures of a Zen Master








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