Long run = hills = fun (OK, fun AND sore legs)

I decided that this summer I would challenge myself with long runs packed with hills, weekly speed workouts, and cross-training on my bike and in the pool. From June 1st through at least September 30th I want to push myself a bit harder just to see what happens. Maybe I'll get faster in the next marathon, the Top of Utah in September. Perhaps I'll finish higher up in a sprint triathlon this summer. I'd love to nail the hills in the 100 on 100 relay.

Ghandi's thoughts are driving me this summer:

“Your beliefs become your thoughts,
Your thoughts become your words,
Your words become your actions,
Your actions become your habits,
Your habits become your values,
Your values become your destiny.”
― Mahatma Gandhi

 

I want my destiny this summer to be strength, confidence, and courage. To start that process, I'm focusing on positive thoughts when I'm running. Instead of telling myself the hill is too steep, the weather too hot, my legs too tired - I'm barking out motivation that my drill sergeant at Ft. Bragg would have loved (but without as many expletives).

Long runs this summer include hills, lots of hills. Today's run starts downhill on East Manchester Road, which of course means I have to run UP this hill on the way back home. That's the plan, right? Center Hill waits just after mile 2. Piece of cake.

A gradual uphill on 7A, until a steeper section before the left turn onto North Road. Lots of positive thoughts and old Army chants gear me up for the assault on Overlook, a 1.3 mile steady climb to Morse Hill. My quads get an even better workout running downhill on Wind Hill, then another right turn back onto North Road for two more hills before Route 30.

Manchester West Road is a series of three fairly steep hills followed by a long, more gentle decline into the Village. I navigate the steep downhill section on Union Street by running on the golf cart path instead of the road. There aren't many golfers out this morning, and no one seems to notice as I lean into the downhill and promise my quads I'll reward them with a cold shower.

2.5 miles to go as I turn onto Richville Road. There are two more hills before I reach home, and I fortify myself with the last of my Gatorade and start chanting as I head up the first, steeper hill. Ghandi echoes in my mind:  beliefs - thoughts - words - actions - habits - values - destiny. I believe I will run without walking up this hill. I AM running up this hill. Running up hills with a light, springy step is my destiny - fueled by a whole bunch of hilly, determined miles.

I sprint down the last 1/3 mile of our dirt road toward home, willing my legs to turnover faster. The cold shower I promised my quads feels great. Another hard run completed. More hills conquered.

Tomorrow I plan to ride my bike UP Union Street, something I usually dread. The first trail run of the Pine Hill Park Summer Sunset Series is tomorrow night, and of course that means lots of hills. No dread allowed this summer; Ghandi's thoughts are going to push me up Union Street in the morning and the mountain bike trails at sunset. Bring it!

Running alone or in a group?

Which do you prefer:  running alone, or running with a group?

I first started running by myself, as a way to create a quiet space, free of telephones and demands on my time. I never run with music, prefering to listen for the birds in the trees, the wind blowing through my hair, or even the thread of a song I heard on the radio earlier in the day that endlessly repeats in my mind.

Five years ago I started running with a group of women, and the dynamics of running were turned upside down. We rarely run in silence, instead talking over the latest news headlines or updating each other on our family's busy lives. We fall into a comfortable pace and instead of noticing the clouds racing across the sky in front of the wind we share thoughts on the best new restaurants in town.

Tonight I enjoyed both types of running, starting out on my own as daylight turned into darkness. As I headed up steep Center Hill Road, I paced my breath with my stride, focusing on the top of the hill, concentrating on maintaining a steady, even pace. Running down the sidewalks in front of the stores just closing for the evening, I thought about the way Manchester has changed over the past year. It seems like every month another store or restaurant closes, and the state of the economy is on everyone's mind.  My pace quickened as I turned the last corner onto Richville Road, watching my headlamp light the sidewalk and enjoying the quiet darkness.

20 minutes later I headed out on the same route, this time with 9 women from my running group. Wendy, Patty, Laurie and talked about triathlons and the lack of an indoor pool in Manchester. We ran up Center Hill together, my thoughts not on my breath or pace but on the group conversation. I looked back down the hill, seeing the string of headlamps and high-vis yellow running gear stretching out behind us. At one point our route circles back, and the faster runners kept going toward the finish. I kept pace with Audrey, right behind Michelle and Morgan with Linda and Liz close behind us. We talked about the best meals for a slow cooker, the pricing of the newest restaurants, and the amount of snow in the mountains. As we turned the last corner onto Richville Road, instead of running by myself in the quiet darkness I was surrounded by women talking about the 7 mile run we have planned for this weekend.

I love the independence of running by myself and the opportunity to let my thoughts wander. I love running with other women, learning about their lives and finding common ground. Our ages tonight span 40 years, from 14 to 54. We live in 7 different towns within a 25 mile radius. We have young children, teenagers, college-age kids and grown-up children out on their own. This is the first year with the group for 4 of the women, and 2 started with the very first group 5 years ago. The running group brings us together, allowing us to match our pace and our breath as we run in the dark, conversation carrying us along.

I don't prefer one type of running over the other. Instead, I'm thankful I have the opportunity for both the silence and the talk, solitude and company.