Run, Running, Ran, Going

An email I sent to friends and family.

***

There were points when I seriously considered not running.

(More on that later).

I've been working at Monkey Business Camp again this summer and the past couple of weeks were super stressful as we had a drama and performing arts session. The play and variety show always require tons of work and energy, and are just generally exhausting. I think Tuesday of this past week I realized that the stress and anxiety just weren't worth it - I could only do what I could, and no it wouldn't be perfect, but my campers would still be fabulous. It's more important to enjoy the process than freak out about the goal. This is always hard for me to keep in perspective. It was, however, this same mentality that allowed me to decide to run the half. Just because I had originally decided to run the half-marathon out of this twisted need to set a challenge for myself didn't mean that I couldn't change my reasoning. SO many folks supported me through financial donations and words of support, which was nearly reason enough to run - not because I felt I "owed it" or was "obligated" to those of you who donated, I really wanted to avoid doing it because "I had to" because people donated and I didn't wanna let them down, but more the fact that the $1,716.68 I raised with my friends and family is almost 10% of the total funds raised for YouthRun4Fun through the San Francisco Marathon is really meaningful. I helped make a difference, but it was because I have a community, I have people in my life who are there to support me. And so I suppose it was more to honor that beautiful thing - anyway... it was this mentality shift that ultimately allowed me to run: I just decided that running wouldn't be a challenge, it wouldn't be a race, it wouldn't be something that I had to do. No, it would simply be a 13.1 mile run that I was going on.

And so Sunday morning I was a little nervous. Although I went to bed early the previous two nights I didn't sleep well. I pulled myself out of bed in the morning darkness (5:45, crazy, that means that summer is winding down, which is a whole 'nother issue I have). Laced up my shoes. Drove into the city with my cousin and her friend. Arrived too late for the shuttle bus and so took a cab to Golden Gate Park. Ten blocks and ten minutes away from our start line and start time we were stuck in traffic due to the full-marathon runners. 8:28, 2 minutes to start time, we finally gave up and ran to the start. Quick bathroom break, bag dropped at the bag drop, and into the flow of bodies, somewhere between 8 to 10 minutes late. But it didn't matter. I was just going for a run, remember? 6 overcast and winding miles through Golden Gate Park, a light mist on my shouldertops. Don't believe that's a word. Clanging cowbells and rockbands inspiring the thousands of runners. Cytomax, water, green portapotties. Play 25-minute meditation song from the "Relax" playlist on the Monkey Biz iPod. Finally ascend onto Haight. My favorite stretch of the run. Running as a mode of transportation, running as adventure, running as a different pace. Running with thousands of people, being cheered on by bystanders, as a form of exploring, seeing a city... and feeling like a rockstar. Fog has totally burnt off. Beautiful n sunny Sunday. Bicyclists blasting Bohemian Rhapsody, heh, it was epic when that came on during the 6-or-so-person funktastacious dance party the other night. Surroundings change as streets become Missippi, Missouri (one r? two rs?). Warehouses. Oh, that's where the Bottom of the Hill is - good to know for when I finally manage to go see a show there, after all it's all ages. Shorts chafing the soft inner thigh area. iPod. Hit water, the Embarcadero! Leaden legs and burning sensation from the chafing shorts. Man at aid station recommends that I smear vaseline on the chafed skin. It only causes my shorts to stick to my legs, and now the oil of the vaseline has darkened that area of my shorts so it looks like I peed myself. Last two miles. Can. Hardly. Move. Legs. Manage to jog like an old woman. Pacbell Park. Whoops, AT&T Park. .2 miles left! I can see the finish line! Faster. Passing fools right and left. FASTER! FAST!!! Speed through finish line. Immediately soak feet in ice.

So I did it! And you know what...? It was fun!

Thank you all so, so much for your support and inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you.

And the latest update on A Lost Soul Running Home?

Well, as I said, pre-mentality shift I was considering not running. It was too much. I couldn't do it. I hadn't been training enough. So I stepped back and looked at this trend of failing to performing, not living up to expectations, falling short, and realized these were effects (affects?) caused by a pressure I created: "Running a (1/2) marathon is a challenge akin to writing that A-paper (on a small scale) or the college process (on a larger scale), but it's a challenge that I am choosing to take on rather than a paper that has simply been assigned to me. It gives me a chance to push myself physically and even more so mentally." Why did I have to create a challenge? What was I trying to prove myself? I am not and never have been a runner so why was I trying to make myself one? My mom has often called me a perfectionist, but I'm not. While I do like things being executed fabulously and beautifully and I appreciate a job well done, the issue is more that I get stuck in a goal-oriented rut. So the play was stressing me out, and now its over. And my half was stressing me out, and now it's over, too. Done. Fin. Aaaand that's all folks. As soon as something's over it's really over, and that's why it doesn't matter that the oh-so-cliché saying "the journey is the destination" is oh-so-cliché. Cuz it's true. No more of this sadomasochistic $%@@!*&^, If you're not enjoying the process then crossing the finish line is not more worth it. It just means that it was more painful. At least in my world.

And I was kinda hoping that running the half would be, what's the word, cataclysmic, evolutionarily unfolding and birthing, simply releasing. I was kinda hoping that being 13.1 miles lighter would also mean world-heavy, shoulder-drooping, life-confusion lighter. I was kinda hoping that crossing the finish line would be akin to crossing this metaphorical barrier within myself. And I've known the whole time that that's a lot to expect and that it's not very likely. After all it was just a run, right? And so...?

The thing about being able to simply release is that I simply need to learn how to fully integrate.

...And maybe think about it a lil less. Remain aware but a lil less concerned. Let it all happen. Wu wei, baby. And the beautiful thing is that it is all happening. Things are different. I'm putting in major work and sometimes it's frustrating, sometimes I feel stagnant and stuck, but it's all paying off. I'm growing, making changes happen in my life, and that's a beautiful thing. So to make this whole thang neat and tidy: I may feel lost but I'm already home. I'm just running, skipping, dancing, smiling, leaping, sometimes crying, hopping, inching, whirling my way along.

And with that one more quote, from the great Sufi poet, Rumi:

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I will meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about
language, ideas, even the phrase each other
doesn't make any sense."


Onwards,
Samra