Starting to run for all the good reasons

Why can I not resist a worthy challenge, no matter how unsure I may be of my ability to successfully complete it? First, when the goal seems worthy to me, the pain and potential “humiliation” I might have to endure in the process seem insignificant by comparison. Then, I know from experience I had always gained at least some valuable lessons. To top it all, if I do succeed, I feel exhilarated and reinforced in my determination to continue to accept good challenges. This time my challenge was indeed related to participating in a 5K “fun run”. I had good reasons to accept this challenge and to believe I had the stamina to complete it, but I did not know how to actually do it. The lessons I learned are widely transferable.

Sunrise on Lake Michigan

I was attending the annual meeting of the American Heart Association. In the spirit of the conference, the participants, professionals who work in the area of cardiovascular disease, are encouraged to “walk the talk” or rather, run it. My early career mentor, Peter, a dedicated runner, has been asking me on every eve of the run, for almost 20 yrs, if I was going to participate. I have been saying: “No, not this year… I am not a runner, I’ll need to prepare for it.” But that never happened. Not only do I not enjoy running, but by doctor’s orders after a bus accident that immobilized me for months in a hospital bed many years ago I am to avoid any physical activity pounding on my spine. Last year, my mentor finally wore me down. I thought: if I can compete in a 5K rowing race, I should have enough stamina to finish a 5K run, right? So, I ran it, felt good about finishing, but I was not sure I wanted to repeat the experience; however, it turns out that my mentor had asked the organizers to dedicate this year’s run to the memory of one of our colleagues who had been struck and killed by a car while running precisely during last year’s annual meeting. Peter enlisted all the runners who were current members or alumni of his institution, which included me, to wear a tee-shirt displaying the name of our lost colleague to honor his memory. How could I say no to running this year?

I got up really early and put on several layers as my iPhone indicated the temperature was 30 F. I was not sure what runners wear, I had put on a couple of layers, and now I got the extra tee-shirt, however while waiting for all the runners to show up, I was regretting being there so early (I was in the first bus that dropped people off at the site). In spite of the dark, we snapped pictures “before”, we heard some brief talk encouraging us to maintain healthy physical activities, then a couple of short speeches about the person we were commemorating and we held a moment of silence. We were then told to go to the start line by letting the competitive runners start first. In fact, I went around the crowd to snap some pictures of the competitive group, running in place impatient to catapult over the start line.  Only now, while writing this, did it occur to me that their puzzled looks may have been related to the fact that by walking over the start line to take the pictures, I had likely triggered my own timing device! Did I mention that I am “green?” Satisfied with the spectacle of their explosive start, I then walked to the back of the gathered crowd and started my own run from there.

So, here are the main learning points I selected from my (overall) experience of 2 x 5K runs, one year apart (with no training what so ever).

1. Accept a worthy challenge.

If the cause seems important to you, take a chance and do your very best. Worst case scenario, you will learn from it.

2. Seek and follow (some of the) advice.

I knew this would not be easy with no training, so I asked several experienced runners for some tips, “Should I try to touch down first with my toe or my heel? How should I pace a 5 K run?” Their face betrayed their amused incredulity: “You do not usually run??? Well, then… best just forget it!” Finally, Sonia, another of my mentors offered advice that unleashed for me the possibility of participating: “If you really, really want to do it, just take it easy and hang in there!” I decided to go with her advice.

3. Find a buddy (support system)

As I began to run at the end of the crowd, I was still getting passed by many! I felt very discouraged: I was slow even in the slow crowd… Judging by their toned and nice physiques, it seemed that the great majority of runners were fitter or younger, and many were both. Once more I doubted my decision to participate… Then, I finally spotted in front of me someone who was more like me, in fact she seemed heavier. I told myself, “If she can run I can run! I will just try to stick with her for as long as I can”. For a while, I only looked at her back and tried to keep up with her speed, ignoring all those passing us.

4. Enjoy your route, but don’t find excuses to give up/get off track.

The view was really amazing: the sun was beginning to rise over Lake Michigan, seemingly setting its calm waters on fire. If I did not come out here to run at this early hour, I would have not been able to see this remarkable scene from behind the tall city skyline. I kept thinking I may not be able to remember the splendid picture in its full glory. Besides, my legs were hurting, so I wanted really badly to stop, rest, and take some good pictures. I took my camera out of my pocket (I had thought I might need it), but realized that should I stop to take those good pictures, this might just turn into a photo safari. I was there for a different reason so, I stopped only long enough to snap several pictures in the low light. It turns out that many are not in focus, but I was still able to find a few that are good enough to jog my memory.

5. Learn, find ways to compensate for your shortcomings,adapt.

Since having my back injured in the bus accident many years ago, I have a deficit in my left leg that becomes noticeable (to me) with strenuous activity. I had learned over the years how to compensate for it while rowing: I decrease the force with which I push against the boat with my right (“good”) leg to match the weaker left leg. It is easy to tell if I am doing it right, any difference between left and right foot’s pressure makes my single boat veer… While running, I could not pound away with my left leg as vigorously as I could with my right. It took a while to figure out that I could not split differentially the gravitational pull on my two legs, so I resolved to run “softer” (and of course slower).

6. Hang in there.

 I was following the advice, running only up to where it felt hard but not uncomfortable, and keeping the hope that I will not run out of steam before the official finish line. I was making steady progress, albeit many had passed me by. At some point I began to notice people slowing down, and then I began to pass some, including the woman I had resolved to follow. A quick corner of the eye look when passing her revealed she was many years my junior.

7. Aim for a strong finish.

With the finish line in plain view, I tried to gather all my remaining energy to sprint. Someone decided that we needed encouragement and shouted in a megaphone: “Looking good! You need to smile for the finish.” I thought, how could I possibly smile, everything hurts. At the exact moment when my brain rebelled, I felt a violent cramp in my left leg. In a strange way it was reassuring as just moments ago I could not feel my leg anymore, and was wondering if it was still bending correctly or was about to buckle. I thought: “Oh no, I am not going to be able to finish!” My response was to run even faster to make sure I do make it across the finish line, so I pushed my chest forward and hoped my legs will rotate fast enough to keep up with it. I could not believe it, but here it was: the finish arch. After going under it, my first thought was: ”I did it!” Second thought: “Is this real or am I dreaming?” For one, the speakers were still blasting (appropriately?) "Forever young, I want to be forever young" as when I had started running, it felt like a "Groundhog day" type of situation. Then,  a couple of guys watching my finish exclaimed loudly: “Oh wow, that was really impressive!”

8. Pass it on: challenge/encourage someone else!

The reason I wrote about how I was able to overcome this challenge is because I hope that at least one other person will find it inspiring enough to tackle a challenge new to them (not necessarily taking up running), anything worthwhile they currently think they are not capable of achieving…

“If I can run, YOU can run!”  

Finding one's 'nook'

We all have a place where we feel on top of our game and are able to do our best, which I’ll call “the nook”.
The Potomac, my current rowing venue, offers two widely different settings. The majestically wide Potomac flowing past the Key Bridge is a mirror to several major Washington D.C. monuments. It is also the playing ground for a flurry of rowing activities starting well before dawn and lasting till dusk: mostly big but also smaller rowing boats working on their daily routines, many with launch boats in town, carrying coaches yelling their stern commands in megaphones that trigger the rhythmic powerful oar sound response from large crews. An ever changing configuration of boats chase or yield, rest or push through the start creating multiple wakes that intersect, aiming for different openings under multiple bridges creaking with trains and cars. A dynamic cacophony of images, sounds, human and mechanical power.

Then, there is the “other” Potomac – the way it looks and feels before it reaches the bridge. As the days grew longer, it finally got bright enough in the morning to be able to row the “younger-wilder” side of the Potomac. I was astonished and relieved to discover that after rowing for just a few minutes upstream, I was surrounded by natural beauty: the banks are forested, and except for that occasional docked kayak or floating fishing boat, there are not many signs of human presence. I discovered different size islands and rocks piercing the water’s surface, fortunately punctuated by blue herons suspiciously checking out my progress. Flocks of cormorants that seem to have gotten over their solitary and skittish nature were hanging out and didn’t dive as soon as I approached. I got to look at their almost rubbery looking plumage (Phelps would probably appreciate such a swimming suit), and I was close enough to notice that their beaks were slightly bent  right at the tip. They would let their heads fall backwards in a mass reaction - seemingly laughing at how much equipment I need to move through the water - or maybe they were just swallowing their earlier capture? The only disturbance was created by large fish unexpectedly jumping out of the water in their mindless pursuit of insects, occasionally startling me and disturbing the mirror-like surface of the water. How can this rather narrow and wilder-looking river so quickly become the huge river formally flowing between perfectly smooth man-made granite banks, under the several downstream but so close by bridges bustling with traffic?

One thing I am sure of is that once I discovered the “other” Potomac, I knew I will truly enjoy my morning rows. The ample segment of the Potomac is great for rowing large boats – in fact those boats don’t dear thread the narrow and shallower waters upstream. Rowing upstream requires a lot of maneuvering – a finesse of technique that interferes with the pure adrenaline-driven type of performance so familiar to the large crew rowing boats. But my kind of rowing is powerful yet mindful, I don’t mind steering a less than straight course. Moreover, I like the peaceful surroundings that allow me to have both a physical and meditative experience in the same time.

If the connection I made this morning with a life/business learning is still obscure to the reader, I would refer to an earlier post “Going solo: small boats and big boats”. This morning I further felt that beyond the choice of medium (equipment!), the choice of environment is also essential for optimal personal performance. We all have to find our “nook,” a place to feel empowered: we have diverse ways of replenishing or generating our energy, which naturally happens in a place that satisfies our individual passions.

I learned that I can row the big Potomac pretty well - I was told (and proven by my survival of the ‘hazing party’ (“ A view to live for”), yet I felt more like I was measuring against Potomac, while this morning rowing upstream in my boat I felt I was Potomac.

A toast to things forgotten

Yes, the times might have been tougher for many this past year, but joy can still be found everywhere. Eternally busy with our daily grind, we might miss a lot of it! Hopefully we did not forget to appreciate the joy of having people we care about and who care about us: family, friends, and others. BTW, did any of you see the movie “Up in the air”? Do we take enough time to realize the joy of meeting new people and ideas, of being able to do some of things each of us are passionate about, or just briefly enjoying the giggle of a child, a beautiful sunset, or a good book or glass of wine? Do we take the time to do the simple things in our power to enhance and prolong the joy of others?

As the end of the year approached, I took again my tally… Among my “joy list,” something stood out. I realized I had consistently forgotten to acknowledge an important contributor to my joy during the past decade… my rowing boat! One could argue: “But, it’s an object!” Yes, but it has been a real partner and its true value well surpasses its monetary value, although it is still the most expensive thing I bought for myself (even if not much compared to other possessions people normally acquire in their life times). Also, unlike my house or car, I have been the only user of my single scull!

A few years back I had made the decision to own a boat to further reinforce my commitment to taking the time to stay healthy through rowing. While I have been the raw force behind our rowing sessions, my boat has been our… Zen! At some point I discovered that my work on the water only paid off when I could truly become one with my boat. Rowers will understand this is not merely a metaphor, this is… mechanics! In my eagerness to “row hard,” I used to overdo it:, my movement effectively working against the boat’s effortless gliding. However, once the two of us completely cooperate, I can hear the gurgle of bubbles as we glide together through the water. My boat’s unofficial name is “Champagne”. It’s what came to my mind when I was looking for one word that could simultaneously invoke white, light, bubbles, and last but not least, the giddiness that rowing gave me so many times naturally - something that might otherwise require drinking good champagne! I think my boat fully deserves an ode as it has been a real partner that enabled me to stay physically and mentally healthy so that I could take care of all the people I care about and to do many other things that I am passionate about. So, while it’s currently parked on high dry ground, and spent the holidays alone, outside in the cold, it will be forgotten no more. This one is to you, Champagne!

What/who brings you joy?

Never too late...

I was recently prompted to consider what might have been one of my own most valuable lesson about learning at any age after watching a TED talk given by Tim Ferris recommended by my friend Vic. I agree: the talk is inspiring. Tim Ferris delivers with flair a message that rings true beyond whatever his own facts might be (I understand some people had questioned them). In addition, an interesting coincidence brought back memories of my own trials and tribulations, small victories and lessons about learning. In the video Ferris credits his swimming achievements to a new method called "Total Immersion" pioneered by Terry Laughlin. I had personally met Terry several years ago during one of my own most significant learning journeys while we both had attended the same… rowing camp. The participants, a group of like-minded adults of different ages and skill levels, came from all over US to improve upon their rowing. I was a true beginner and had signed up for the chance to dedicate one week to “crash learn” how to row a skinny scull (competition-style boat). I had previously rowed a few months in a recreational boat (those of you who row, please be tolerant, I was so “green” I didn’t even know what I didn’t know…). The rowing camp turned out to be one of my most telling experiences about learning as an adult.

I had arrived at the camp with so much enthusiasm that the first day I took advantage of all three extended rowing sessions (one was optional). This was way more than three times I had ever rowed in any single day…. yet, I felt no fatigue. However, within minutes I was made painfully aware of how much I needed to improve upon. Each of the many trainers stationed every 200 yds. on the lake pointed out yet another major issue with my technique. I would barely start working on something only to hear the next coach yelling about another huge mistake or simply making fun of my “style”. They made sure to leave me with no doubts: I was at the very bottom of the skill ladder. I was once again re-experiencing all of the frustrations and humility that come from being a complete novice critically assessed by experts, not an easy feeling for someone who had become accustomed to operate with great ease in her professional and everyday life.

They finally broke me down by the middle of the second day: "how could I ever possibly fix so many major things terribly wrong with my rowing technique???" So instead of the additional rowing session that day, I opted for the trip to the nearby ice cream factory. As I was drowning my sorrow in the biggest possible cone I was able to get, I was struck by a thought: “So what if my rowing ‘looked funny’ or I was possibly doing everything totally wrong?” Being out in the boat, pulling the oars through the crystal clear water in the middle of the woods gave me tremendous energy and joy! Who was going to watch me once I finished camp? And, if they did, should I worry about what they thought of my style? In that second I decided that I will not let the way my rowing looked prevent me from experiencing the happiness it was giving me. Thus I would go back on the water the next day and try my best to correct whatever possible (maybe not at the pace they wanted me to!) but I would not give up on rowing. The rest of the camp days continued pretty much the same: I rowed every single session, worked hard to correct various things, put up with a lot of criticism, including a lot of ridicule, and asked a lot of clarifying questions undaunted by the fun they seemed to engender. The coaches got to expect me to raise my hand at every Q&A session.

The camp’s final row was a “head race” in which all students, starting one by one like beads on a string, had to row the full length of the lake against the clock. The rowers were started in the reverse rank of their skill to give enough head start to the slow ones. I was called to start second, being assessed by coaches to only be possibly better than one other student from the group of 20+ with various skill levels. By this time it did not bother me (I knew how much I had to work on), I was just so happy I was still rowing in my white skinny scull! We then all gathered in the camp cafeteria where the head coach read in decreasing order our times, slowest first, regardless of student’s gender, age, or skill level, a nerve wrecking exercise… My heart jumped with anticipation every time they were about to call another name, but once they called out most students, my heart really started racing again! Soon I noticed that the only few not called yet were all guys, and the best rowers. I started to wonder if the coaches would play some last prank on me, they seemed to have particularly enjoyed making fun of my technique and even more so of my eagerness. With somewhat of a sheepish laugh the head coach called: “…and finally, the 'Fastest Woman on the Lake'...” It turned out to be… me!?! I was totally stunned (apparently they were too) and really happy - then, as I am now! -that I did not give up that second day. More, that small victory against great odds taught me that my enthusiasm could overcome my inexperience, and how “funny” I looked while I was learning it. I got a distinct feeling that the coaches also experienced some eye-opener that day…

I am now convinced that the ability to learn anything at any age depends in no small measure on our capacity to conquer our own fear of ridicule. Since my rowing camp days whenever I am confronted with the challenge of learning or trying something new, I have started asking myself the question: so what's the worst that could happen if I ’looked stupid?’ If the only danger is that others might think I looked goofy– then I’ll go ahead, it is well worth it! And I can have a good laugh about it too. As young children we learn new things while we are still not self-conscientious. Later, as the fear of peer judgment intensifies, we avoid trying things that might make us look ridiculous. Then, with age comes the wisdom that the “sacrifice” of looking funny is well worth the learning and we can return to being the child freely and fully embracing the fun of learning and experiencing new things that truly matter to us. At that point we become free to make choices based on gaining value, rather than on losing appearances. As a teacher of adults I try to encourage my students to fearlessly pursue their passions, even when they lay well beyond their previous/formal training. There is no substitute for really wanting to learn or do something. I don't care how "off" you might start at it! And, I make sure to reassure the first time I meet my students, and then remind them frequently, that "stupid question" is a misnomer. If someone can formulate a question about anything, than obviously there is something that needs clarification - which is the purpose of a question - thus asking any question simply can not be stupid. I learned from asking lots of "stupid" questions: if one is ever told or made feel that had just asked a "stupid question" is because the receiver had a hard time answering it and was ashamed to acknowledge it. Voila, the secret is out!

Kids, do try this at home: if you see older people, friends, parents or grandparents learning something new, do not laugh, but rather plan to continue to have the same curious and adventurous attitude… Truly, it’s never too late to learn new things!

p.s. My rowing technique has gotten better after all these years of learning, but I am still working on improving many things. Also, I still have to follow-up on my plan to someday (soon!) learn Terry’s "Total Immersion" fast, ultra-efficient swimming style. As for that rowing race, well, yes, my time was faster than Terry’s ;-)

In memoriam: Armin’s wish was granted

And so it goes, and so it goes… life is short, but if we get lucky we get to live it at its fullest and leave the way we wish.

This past week we got the sad news that one of our fellows rower died. Armin passed away while rowing in a double with his rowing buddy, Ed. It was of great comfort to all of us to learn about those last moments. Thank you, Ed, for writing such an inspiring message in spite of your own pain to make it widely available to those who knew Armin, or at least could relate to his love of rowing.

Ed described Armin as being “among other things anti-establishment, a romantic, poet, artisan, father, brother and friend. He knew the value of friendship and once befriended he never abandoned the 'ship'." Indeed, Armin did not abandon their ship, he simply stayed the course until his wish was granted… This sad event allowed all to learn more about Armin than they had a chance to learn under normal circumstances. We learned that while Armin and Ed were planning to row together into their 80s, Armin’s personal wish was to pass away while rowing. Many of us who spend significant time on the water have similar “exit plans." A few years back, based on her wishes, I myself had spread the ashes of a previous rowing partner from a boat. It was sad but comforting for us to watch the white petals spread in the same time being slowly washed away. We toasted to her life with champagne and rowed back in silence. I do not know of what comes next or where she might be now, but I do think of her every time I row by the site. I am hoping that she has found peace.

Ed also told us about his last row with Armin that he felt “privileged to have shared his last moments and close his eyes” and he then spoke directly to Armin: “You will be missed my good friend, you will be missed. Thank you for being a part of my life. You are and always will be a part of my heart. You have finally found peace. Watch over us. You were never religious. I bet you were surprised to find the afterlife. You became a believer Friday night for I was present when you experienced in the words of the poet, Thomas Ady, 'the four angels round your head, one to watch , and one to pray, and two to bear your soul away'. How would I know, I saw the peace on your face.”

Tomorrow, June 14, 2009, rowers, family and other friends will hold a memorial service on the banks of the Chattahoochee river to celebrate Armin’s life.

Inspire others, make dreams come true

I was casually talking with someone who was nearing a "significant" birthday that year. She said one of the things she had always dreamed about was to… row. It made me so happy: here was a dream I could help make happen! To this day I get a smile when the e-mail she sent me a few months later flashes in front of my eyes. The message had one line only – written in one inch high letters: "I ROWED!!!"

If you've always wanted to learn to do something, no need to postpone. As the Nike slogan says: "Just do it!" There are many formal or informal ways to learn anything. It is important to know there will always be people not only willing, but actually really happy to help you get started – just like me. Many of those who are already driven by a passion not only “infect” others naturally, but actually have a vocation to engage novices. This is true not only for athletics, but for any other endeavors people have a real passion for. Specifically, if experiencing rowing is your dream, know that many enthusiastic rowers happily get involved in the annual "National Learn to Row Day", usually in early June (Goggle it for identifying local opportunities or contact USRowing at 1-800-314-4769 or members@usrowing.org).

If, on the other hand, you are the one who could help someone finally experience a dream by sharing your passion and knowledge, get involved and make it happen! You will enjoy it every time. Pass it on!