What I Talk About When I Talk About Running; or, Suffering is Optional

I have a love/hate relationship with running. 
Actually, it's more of a hate/hate relationship. 

I have a hard time with pacing myself---I almost always, without fail, start out way too fast and end up having to catch my breath (asthma doesn't help). I'm slow. I'm lazy. I have old lady bunions that hurt. 

But I also like to do nothing but think about my (mildly asthmatic) breathing, and count steps, and check my time as I go. It's sort of like meditation. 

I see how people are addicted to it. 

And that's why I also love it, although I really hate it, too. It's so hard. How can a sport requiring nothing more than 2 feet and a good pair of lungs be so difficult??? 

I have finally done a first here---I've joined a runner's group of sorts. If you like running, Gitmo is the place to be---I counted 26 people running in the few miles to and from the NEX one day. It can be 6 am or 11 pm and you'll see five or more people running on base. My "runner's group" is actually just a group of ladies from my neighborhood, and when motivated to keep up with the leader of the pack, I have managed to run faster the last 2 nights than most of the 2-3 years I've been running. 

"Pain in inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say you're running and you think, 'Man this hurts, I can't take it anymore. The 'hurt' part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself." ---Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

So I am a big---huge, actually---fan of books with non-linear timelines, quirky characters, multiple storylines, and exotic locations. My favorite book is One Hundred Years of Solitude. I have recommended it to dozens of people. I can count on 2 fingers the number of people who liked it---but those two people felt like I did when I finished it the first time---it was a spiritual experience and the final scene delivered a full blow to the gut. I also feel this way about most of Japanese writer Haruki Murakami's books, especially my favorite, The Wind-up Bird Chronicles. Man, it blew me away. 

So when I heard he had written a book about his experiences as a marathoner---he's a hard core runner---and it owes much of its title to yet another book I love by the late, great Raymond Carver, I had to get it. 

Except, I haven't gotten it yet. It's not at the library here, so I'm mulling over getting it to read on the iPad or bringing yet another paper book into the house. (The floor boards are straining. The bookshelves are crammed. Confession---I have at least one---maybe more, but I ain't telling---boxes of books in storage. STILL. I know, I need help). 

But that quote---"pain in inevitable. Suffering is optional"---it's so true. It's the first Noble Truth of Buddhism. The way he applies it to the act of running makes so much sense, and I get it---I wish my mind-over-matter just worked a little more efficiently. And so it goes with life, too. 

It is hard not to wallow in self-pity when things aren't going my way. 

I've stayed in jobs (and probably relationships) waaaay longer than I should because I was paralyzed by despair AND too afraid that change would make things even worse. 

I have learned through running that I am not as stubborn as I thought. I really want to go up a hill, but I can't make my legs keep going some of the time. It's frustrating. Why do I start walking? What switches in my brain to make me stop? 

I also found that if I chew gum, put my hair in a bun (ponytail swinging really messes up my groove), and never, ever look down, I do better. 

And it's the silly things that get you through life, too. 

My heart really hurts today because my former school lost a precious kid. He was a senior, with a great smile and a mature way about him. He was a regular in the library, and it was very easy to fall into conversation with him and forget that he was just a kid. He loved books---especially zombie books. What's not to love about a kid who loves zombies? 

Last night he took his life, and I'm sad to think that he didn't learn the lesson that "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." 

So it goes. 

Well, this is the most depressing thing I've written in a while. It started with running and ended with an unrelated tragedy. Talk about a strange tangent. 

So here are some Gitmo firsts from the last week plus, and small reasons to celebrate: 

1)I did finally get to see the Bay from a boat this week. The oldest kid and his English class took a boat cruise to a cay while wearing togas, read letters they wrote in character, enjoyed Greek food, and after putting their letters in bottles, threw them out at Romance Cove. The book was The Odyssey, of course! This was their class odyssey, and quite a brilliant plan. He'll remember That Time I Wore a Toga on a Boat in Cuba for the rest of his life. 

2) The youngest and I have become regulars at the Arts and Crafts Shop---we are now masters of ceramic painting (and hopefully, I'll learn some pottery while I'm here---there are wheels, an extruder, that thing that rolls clay out, and something that looks like an air brush machine for painting pottery. In case you haven't guessed, no, I have no clue how to actually use any of that equipment to throw a pot). And you know just what we need---more (ceramic) trinkets for the house! I'm still purging! I promise! The boy actually said, "You know mom, we can always sell this stuff in a yard sale." That's my child! 

3)Ummm, we sorta had a small earthquake Friday. Or maybe just aftershocks from elsewhere. Two of the four of us felt it (I didn't), and there is absolutely nothing in the news about it, but we know enough people to verify that 50% of our household is not completely delusional and insane. Nobody and nothing was hurt so---another reason to celebrate! 

4) FIRST DIVE IN NINE YEARS! It went well, despite some lingering asthma (yes, that again) causing me to have problems at first. I rarely get asthma, and only when my allergies turn into a severe upper respiratory infection---but when I do get it, it is hell to shake off. It will be a few more months before I'm breathing normally again---and yes, I am taking medicine for it every single day. 

I love my dive buddy---he's been with me for over 20 years. I'm so happy that the fun (and funny) guy I took lessons with as a grad student is still by my side. I am thankful that he is still a wanderer and traveler and adventurer. We didn't take Cheese Wiz and hot dogs to feed the eels like we did on one of our first dives together, but we did manage to see some amazing corals and fish. The comments in the dive logs from our '92-93, '04, and now Cuban experiences are hilarious to read. I guess we are on a 9 year cycle---wonder  where we'll be diving together in 2022? 

post script: There is a possibility that Todd's death was an accident (and what a horrendous accident it was). My understanding is that the evidence is inconclusive. I would like to think that he had a change of heart and it was an accident; whatever happens does not stop that an incredible, bright young man has been taken from this world. See? I'm a downer again. Sorry about that.