Moving Slowly
It’s been a bit of a strange but overall good month. I was firing on all cylinders at the beginning of July, feeling psyched about everything ahead (and I still am), and feeling momentum continuing to build since my 100K in Japan. I surprised myself with a speed workout on the track with a new running buddy. My speed workouts are generally solo, but I think running with another person flipped some kind of switch in me. I thought a reasonable goal for some 1K reps might be around four minutes flat, or 6:26/mile. I ended up going by feel and chasing my fast friend, finishing the reps in 3:40, 3:41, 3:35 (finishing 5:46/mile pace!). I wrote in my training journal, “didn’t know I had that in me!”
The very next day I had a fantastic run in the Fells Reservation, skipping and dancing over rocks and roots, feeling like my foot-eye coordination was completely in sync, and running the Skyline loop in my fastest time yet without even really trying, but just because I felt great.
Maybe part of it was that I knew I had an intentional break coming up. I wanted to squeeze out a couple fantastic runs before taking some down time to prioritize some health stuff. With the Virginia and Japan trips under my belt, and with the Kungsleden in Sweden a month out, this was the best time. As an athlete it can feel like there is never a good time to take a break, planned or no. Running and moving is how I feel like myself to the fullest extent. In the span of less than two weeks, I went from feeling like my best self to feeling like a blob. Rationally I know this is not true; the fitness I had literally thirteen days ago hasn’t gone anywhere. And being my “best self” can’t simply mean being in my best shape, because it’s such a fleeting thing to begin with. Our bodies are always in flux.
It all seems to come down to what parts of my life I’m nurturing, and how those parts all connect with each other. One of my greatest personal challenges is aiming to be multi-dimensional while also being excellent in all areas, which at times feels impossible, but I refuse to believe it can’t be done. I thought without the element of grad school in the mix this summer, I’d have all this free time to do all the other things I want. But it turns out, all the other things I want are also very time consuming. Let’s see…
Composing the music for my second (and final) graduating recital (M.M. Composition)
Writing a memoir centered around the AT, which I’d nearly given up on, but have actually been making progress on!
Learning a bunch of new piano rep for upcoming recitals
Planning for my Kungsleden FKT attempt in August
Organizing the stuff in my “junk room” (the project that never ends)
Spending quality time with loved ones and not being a complete curmudgeon
Managing the many side hustles
I mean, if this is what my life is, I am one lucky person. What I’m coming to realize is that there really is no finish line with any of my various pursuits, and that’s not really the point; they’ll always be there in some form. I might finish grad school, but music will always be there. I’ll finish one outdoor adventure then get excited about the next one. A day might come where I can no longer run, but I’ll never stop moving. The end is the beginning. It makes the everyday feel less about getting to the finish line, and more about embracing the process and growing a little bit at a time. Any kind of result is just the sum of a bunch of small experiences along the way, and a glimpse of potential for what could be ahead.
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