Winter running woes

I've always had a love-hate relationship with running during winter. Some days, there will be runs on fresh coats of snow, no wind, and if you're lucky, the sun is out. It's one of those pretty runs. Other days, there will be runs that also have a fresh coat of snow, snow that your shoes get constantly stuck in, along with wind in the face, and no sun. Last winter, I did a lot of running at night and dreaded it. This year, I've tried to mentally prepare myself for the crappiest of runs every time I head out the door. I know it's going to be cold, probably windy, and depressing (at first). With that mind set, it's a lot easier to run in the winter (so far). So when things that usually bother me aren't so much, it only makes sense for other challenges to arise, like today.

I headed out for a seven mile run that would start at my old apartment and take me out to my soon to be new place of residence, a blue carriage house in Akron's Highland Square. I would stop there and check on things and then head back to my old apartment, running a slightly different route back. Despite lots of wind on the way back, it went by fast and was an energizing run. When I was done, I went to the mailbox. My right thumb was cold and was struggling to turn the key to open the box. I started to freak, just a little, thinking I had frostbite. Eventually the key turned but when I got up to gather the mail, the mailbox key and my apartment key fell off one of the packages, disappearing into the snow. I searched for about five minutes until it got dark and more panic set in. I then felt the urgency to get somewhere warm. The only thing I could think of was running some 600 meters back down the hill to CVS. Luckily, I had my phone on me. Before the run I had thought it was a good idea to take it with me...

I dialed nearby friends to try and "rescue" me but what we really ended up doing was figuring out the number to my apartment complex. I would have to cave in and get charged a fee to open my door. Unfortunately that meant I had to go back outside and run or walk up that darn hill, with wet clothes and lips that now had a purple hue. With the "this is going to suck" attitude, I braved the cold once more and then remembered that I could stay warm (and wait the twenty minutes for maintenance) in the laundry room. The run/walk back wasn't so bad and three dryers were running, keeping the room extra toasty. Maintenance finally arrived and I also realized I had the original key at the apartment, so I was not charged a fee. Now an hour or so after my hour or so run, I was home. Still cold, shivering, and a little shaken. A hot shower and soup never felt so good.

The vacation that was Peru

The day before it was time to go back home, I was ready. I was ready to get back to Ohio and finish out the fall semester. I was ready to leave a country whose language I could hardily speak. When it finally happened, and I did my presentations and handed in papers, I was ready to go back to that country. I found myself missing the pace of life, its inhabitants who would greet you on the street asking to buy a massage or a picture with a Llama. I missed not having a car and walking the streets or riding with an unpredictable and erratic taxi driver. To me, though adventurous and busy, this vacation was an escape from my American reality. And that's what I missed the most.

The trip turned out to be more challenging than I thought, which was a good thing as it put me in my place as far as progress. One thing I've learned is that next time I should go into things blind and learn as I go because expectations of success or failure leave you fooled. Before the trip, I heavily researched altitude sickness in an effort to be fully prepared for its symptoms. The only thing that did was cause me to constantly look for its symptoms upon arrival. Thus, after the first day there, I over analyzed every step and breath taken. It was hard to relax.

Staying at altitude was a valuable experience on the fitness end of things. Yes, it did increase my anxiety during the first few days, making the source of nausea seem indistinguishable. And as scary as that was, I found it fascinating to be out of breath after combing my hair, sitting up in bed, or slowly walking up a few stairs. Now, whenever I run, I imagine that breathless feeling from such minimal activities and to not feel that breathless when I run makes me feel in amazing shape. I hope that when I begin speed work that this awareness can still apply.

Another experience that stood out for me, and one in which I can apply to both running and adversity, was hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. This was an instance where I did go into something blind. I had no idea that the section of the trail we hiked was only some three feet wide. This brought out a latent fear of heights. But even more challenging was going into the hike feeling slightly hungry, tired from a 3:30am wake up call, and carrying about 20lbs on my back, not to mention altitude, although it was lower here. I honestly felt as if the effort I was putting in was comparable to when I jogged a marathon, and not necessarily from the physical demands but rather, the mental demands. In all, it was about a total of four hours hiking. And with all the variables that could make my mind think negative, I survived and felt a sense of achievement.

The next day, we also hiked another mountain, Huayna Picchu, which overlooks the ruins of Machu Picchu. I was excited for this hike and felt fully capable after the previous day's success. However, this trail was more difficult and all up hill. My friend Emily and I were carrying a good pace but once we reached the top, not only was the fog still there (preventing us from seeing an amazing view) but I also noticed my hands swelling up. This freaked me out, not enough for a full on panic attack but enough to want to get the F outta there. The only problem was that it was just as dangerous going down as it was going up. Focusing on my breathing and taking careful steps, I calmed down and so did my hands, giving me another experience to draw on and take back with me, especially in those times when I get into "baby" mode.

Looking happy, with Emily, almost to the top

Just a glimpse of the minimalist trail

At the top, pissed off, crabby, swollen, want to get down.

I think that look is at James!

In all, the biggest lesson learned from the entire trip is that if I'm still breathing and conscious, I'm alive. You're probably thinking, "duh", but for someone like me, it was a huge wake up call. You see, I always assume the worst is going to happen, quite a common symptom of generalized anxiety. This trip was my first international travel experience and it included altitude, lots of transportation, and was two weeks long. James had to remind me of these out of character challenges quite often when I would get negative and irritable. Since being back, however, I've noticed more mental strength, even if I have to remind myself of it at times. There was a bit of a struggle to get back into a routine when I got back but it was helpful to let my body rest and control what it wanted to do, which was sleep and use the bathroom, a lot.

Generally speaking, I still think it is fascinating that you can be in a major city one moment and in an hour, be in another via the airplane. Traveling reminds me that there are so many different ways to live life. Our emotions may all be the same but the experiences, different. I look forward to seeing and living more of these experiences.