Peek into the Future with a Blast from the Past

Look what I found in my time capsule from 1995...

Motivate!

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"

- Laozi (Tao Te Ching)

Many people, myself included, engross themselves in the itty bitty details of training for a race, whether a marathon or a 5K, but the physical regimen is only half the battle. Getting out of bed at 6:30 a.m. and lacing up the trusty ol' running shoes is pretty hard too! And then in the middle of a 20-mile training run on a random Sunday, when the sun is beating down hard, body aching all over, visions of an ice-cold slush - man, oh man!

A few years ago, I was constantly battling allergies and colds. Just for kicks, I started running 3 to 3.5 miles thrice a week. By the following spring, I had a much better handle on my allergies and didn't need antihistamines as much. All for the better, since the prices for my favorite antihistamine skyrocketed. About 4 years ago, I found that I needed a challenge. My regular 3-milers were not cutting it for me and were starting to get stale. I signed up for a the local Suffolk County Half Marathon and started training in mid-January. The training was wrong, as I found out when training for my second half-marathon, but whatever. I got to end of March, woke up the day of the race, and it was raining heavily. Big damper. But I got out of bed anyways, drove to the race location, picked up my race number, and sidled up to the starting line with about 400 others, soaked to the bone, uncertain about what was going to happen. And started I did, fighting the rain, cold, and the lurking feeling that I wasn't going to finish. I could barely see ahead with the droplets pounding off my glasses, fogging up with my breath, but I pushed blindly on, passing runners, letting them pass me, passing them yet again, and finished in under 2 hours! I thought that was pretty good, but the next unsolicited thought was "but I have to do better!" And so, I took a weeklong break, then started training again new, setting my sights on the next race.

My initial training for my first few half marathons was quite mechanical, building up the miles, and just running. But when one sets the bar higher, there comes the need for a mental adjustment. What do you do when you amp up the training, but the body just doesn't want to play along? What if it is just above freezing, or when it's windy, or you are simply just sore? So how do I do it? I need a reason to run, whether it is a regular jog or a training run for a marathon. Nobody runs for no reason. I have found over the years that on days I run, I feel more confident, am more productive, and sleep much better. But that simply isn't enough. I have to set goals for myself. But even more than goals, I need a spark, a singular motivational moment that will trigger my running cycle for the next few weeks or few months. On a cool, sunny Sunday morning in November 2009, I was sitting on my couch contemplating the races I had run that year. It started with the Suffolk County Half Marathon in March, followed up with a much improved run in the Buffalo Half Marathon. Soon after, I convinced my brother to join me in the NYC Half Marathon in August 2009. The race was pure torture - it was hot, humid, crowded - and my brother and I barely slept the night before in a cramped hotel room in midtown Manhattan. After my little triumphs in the two prior half marathons, I was deflated after this one and vowed not to do another half marathon. Then I was introduced to Meb.  Despite his shorter stature and advanced age (compared to his running contemporaries), Meb Keflezighi won the New York Marathon in thrilling fashion, becoming the first American to win since 1982. I was hooked and joined the lottery for the following year's marathon the next morning, only to be disappointed when I wasn't selected as part of the lucky thousands. No matter. I had my motivation and joined the New York Road Runners, running 9 races and volunteering at one to be guaranteed entry in the 2011 NYC Marathon.

While I knew I could probably handle the physical demands of training, I had to mentally prepare myself. I started watching inspirational running videos on Youtube. I watched the documentary "Spirit of the Marathon." The sequences in 3:44-3:50 and 4:12-4:35 still give me chills every time I watch the trailer below and ALWAYS motivates me to go running. Just watch, run a race, and you'll see why.

Creating a soundtrack for my runs also help, especially on days when I am struggling to put one foot in front of the other. My theme song for the Buffalo Half Marathon was Soul Asylum's "Stand Up and Be Strong." For the New York City Marathon, it was The Killers' "All These Things That I've Done." For my early morning runs and for the Chicago Marathon, it was U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name." And for my late night runs, it was Port Royal's "Karola Bloch."  But above all that, when I need to know that I have a pulse and that I am still running, I listen to my heartbeat, hear my feet hitting the ground, and mutter "right...left...right" under my breath.

To put myself in the right frame of mind for my larger races, I took to reading. It was Amby Burfoot's "Complete Book of Running" for my first few half marathons. For the New York Marathon, I read Liz Robbin's "A Race Like No Other." When preparing for the Chicago Marathon, I was engrossed in Haruki Murakami's "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" and Christopher McDougall's "Born to Run." And when all else failed, I googled "quotes about running."

When I am actually running, I have found that visualization helps a great deal. When I first started planning my routes on MapMyRun, I used to mentally play back the route and pretend I had a bird's eye view of my entire route and pretended I could see myself running below. During early spring runs, I listen to the birds chirping on the wires and trees above me, watch the rabbits run across the street, admire the riot of color of blooming flowers and sprouting leaves. This actually is more enjoyable when running day after day, watching how rapidly the scenery changes. During my night runs, I pretend I am floating in the dark abysses of the shadows between the lighted tarmac below the overhanging lamps, the blinking red of my tail light bouncing off the pavement behind me, the white LEDs of my headlamp catching the undulations of the road ahead of me. I smell the freshly cut grass and wondrous scents of the blossoming flowers. It is amazing what your nose and ears can pick up when you cannot see where you are going. On cold days, when the wind is blowing through my hair, biting at my cheeks, I imagine I'm on a warm, sandy white beach, running through the shallows and taking a whiff at the salty breeze. On my long training runs for races, I imagine how I will be on race day, pretending there are people running besides me, cheering fans waving signs on the sides of the roads, and ahead, the "Finish Line" approaching ever so closer.

For shorter runs, I usually think of what challenges I will face that day and how to solve them. For longer runs, when the effect of visualization is wearing thin, I think of my near and dear ones - maybe things they have said to inspire me or just thinking they are besides me talking, no, urging me on. Or I might be thinking of what rewards await me. A bar of chocolate. A cup of 7-11's Slurpee after a particularly long and hot run. Or a bucket of fried chicken. I actually controlled myself for a month for the fried chicken. Needless to say, those 4 pieces fed me several times over - it was soooooo goooood!

When my run is done, I take my pulse, stretch, and pat myself on the back for finishing. And then it is off to face whatever challenges that need facing, whatever battles that need fighting. Oh, and place that order for that bucket of fried chicken.

"When you cross that finish line, it will change your life forever"

- Dick Beardsley

Gems from the past

Came across this typewritten letter from my Dadabapa (paternal grandpa) when cleaning my closet a few days ago

And the treasure inside, written this day 16 years ago

Ramadhan Diaries: Reflections on a Blessed Month

اللهم لك صمت و على رزقك أفطرت و عليك توكلت

O my God, for Thee I fast, and  with the food Thou gives me I break my fast, and I rely on Thee

-Dua (prayer) for breaking the fast

I always feel nervous and anxious when reciting the above prayer.  Is it truly time for iftaar (breaking of the fast) or are my eyes playing tricks on me?  After nearly 16 to 17 hours of shunning food and drink, I am allowed to partake of my first morsel.  My reward for my attempt to get closer to God.  While many fellow Muslims seek out their favorite type of dates or deep-fried, oily appetizers, I am partial to salt.  After all the miles I have logged in my sneakers, I know that after water, salt is the next best thing that the tongue can experience.

As this blessed month enters its final days, I can't help but contemplate what I have accomplished. Have I become a better Muslim, have a better understanding of my world, become closer to God?  More importantly, am I a better human being now than I was a month ago?  While the opportunities to socialize with distant relatives, make new friends, make the effort to go to the mosque, and realize my epicurean fantasies (Mmmm...the kachoris and kuku paka!) are some of my favorite things this month, they are not what makes this month special to me.  No, it is molding my "New Year's Resolutions" during these 29 or 30 days that I enjoy in particular, even though I am more than 7 months behind schedule.  I try to emulate qualities that I cherish in others: humility, calmness, friendliness, generosity, optimism.  Breaking bad habits and generating good ones.  While I'm still chugging up the mountain trying to achieve this distant pinnacle, I feel that I have finally made it out of the base camp established a month ago.

It was no doubt a tough month, long hours coupled with heat and humidity.  Unlike earlier years, I felt drained at the end of the day.  And then, inspired by the Olympics, I felt like I could run a million miles, but turned back sheepishly from my front door, managing only 2 night runs in my preparation for the Chicago Marathon.  But "toughness" is all relative, and I admire my fellow Muslims living in the Middle East (temperatures approaching 120 F, sometimes without electricity and with war-like conditions!) and north of the Arctic Circle (21 hour days!).  When I was younger, going without food for hours at a time made me particularly cranky, I happy to report that I think I have a handle on that.  Listening to NPR the other day, I could only shake my head when a lady interviewed in the West Bank said that "Ramadhan Rage" was justified against Muslims who were not fasting and hanging out behind shuttered restaurants during lunchtime.  Lest we forget, Ramadhan is not only abstinence from the physical pleasures, but also distractions and indulgences of the mind.  And the latter is the hard part.

Lunch on Monday will be alien to me and just won't feel right, at least for a few days.  I will finally have a full night's sleep and not have to wake up at 3:30 AM for the ironically named "breakfast".  I will no longer have to put blinders on my eyes when approaching a water fountain.  My weight will finally remain stable. But I will miss this month like a dear departed friend.  One that allowed me to truly run a spiritual diagnostic test and set about fixing my errors.  One that made me empathize with the plight of the sick and needy.  One that showed me what was wrong and what was right with the world.  One that gave me a new found appreciation for even my daily prayers. One that pulled me down from the skies and truly made me feel human.  One that made me feel closer to God.

Peace be upon you - 

How much we craved you yesterday!

How intensely we shall yearn for you tomorrow!

- Dua for bidding farewell to Ramadhan (Sahifa al-Kamilah, Supplication 45)

  

My Journey to the Finish Line: The Day After

Finished in 4:50:11! While I work on my next blog post, enjoy the following diversion :)

Video courtesy of YouTube user ClaudeineTV, "New York Road Runners: Day After"

My Journey to the Finish Line: The Last Mile

"All endeavor calls for the ability to tramp the last mile, shape the last plan, endure the last hour's toil. The fight to the finish spirit is the one...characteristic we possess if we are to face the future as finishers."

- Henry David Thoreau

Bellwood Avenue. Almost always the start of my jogs and runs, and very often the final mile. I have run on it in nearly every condition and season I can fathom: Sun, rain, snow, wind, and darkness of the night. It was on this road that I wrapped up my marathon training three days ago. I am physically and mentally ready for the Big Day tomorrow.

Months turned into weeks, weeks into days, and now I tick off the final hours before I toe the start line at Verazzano-Narrows bridge in Staten Island. The marathon will take me through a delightful, and sometimes painful, on-the-ground sightseeing tour of NYC like never before. It will go through all five boroughs, cross 5 bridges, and end at my favorite haunt in Manhattan - Central Park.

In my mind, I am a Kenyan and Ethiopian, but I know I cannot keep up with those flighty runners from the East African highlands. My only goal is to finish, whether it takes 4 hours (my predicted time), 4 and a half hours (in order to get my name in the NY Times), or 6 hours (to get my finisher's medal). Today is the Day of Arafah (Day of Repentance) in Mecca, where nearly 2 million pilgrims are beseeching God for forgiveness for a lifetime of sins. Tomorrow they will celebrate the end of the Hajj, but my Day of Reckoning will just be starting.

I intend to enjoy the company of my 45,000+ fellow runners, buoyed by cheers from the nearly 2 million spectators lining the streets of New York, entertained by the 130 performance groups, and nourished by the volunteers at the fluid and medic stations. With these welcome distractions, I will probably ignore my iPod. But at some point, I will need motivation from within. "Run, Jawaad, Run!" will be followed by "Labayk, Allahumma, Labayk (Here I am, O Lord)", leading to "Push, push, push!" in the final miles.

I will be a Starter on Verazzano, the King of Queensboro (Bridge), a Reveler on First Avenue, and a Finisher in Central Park.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

-Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening

Random Fun Facts:
Longest distance (in training): 20.56 miles
Total training miles: 285.6 miles
Total training runs: 45
Total training time: 43 hours
Calories burned: 29600 (211 large chocolate chip cookies)

My Journey to the Finish Line: Running by Moonlight

"At night, when the sky is full of stars and the sea is still, you get the wonderful sensation that you are floating in space."

- Natalie Wood

Two nights ago, I ran 8 miles around the neighborhoods near my house. I was afraid that I would trip over something and hurt myself, as there are several stretches along my route that do not have street lights or are overshadowed by trees. But I was greatly relieved to step out my front door and see brilliant almost full moon directly overhead. And I was off, my feet dancing in a straight line between alternating patches of jet black asphalt and the faint orangeish hues cast by the overhead sodium streetlights.

Running at night is truly a surreal experience. For one thing, it is dark. Darkness conceals my reliable frames of reference I use to judge my pace. I feel I am running faster when I am actually running a bit slower. Silly double and triple shadows! However, the beauty of running in the dark is that I cannot see - see what is up ahead. If I cannot see what challenges lie ahead, I am not afraid of them. Like the hills, my nemesis. My least favorite parts of any route are the inclines. I like going downhill, feet cycling without abandon, but what goes down must come up, right? But the night hides the hills and I don't see them - I feel them. During the day, I have to plan to adjust my speed and energy when running up hills. At night, my feet dictate the rhythm and adapt to the grade.

Running at night is like being in a cocoon - perhaps being in a plane at cruise altitude, or even being at the top of a mountain with powerful thunderstorms miles and miles away. It is quiet and you can see the flashes of lightning, but the laggard roll of thunder is muted. You can see action beyond, but for now you are just floating by, oblivious to the fray. At least, that's what's going through my head at mile number 3, as I zoom by the houses on Milburn Street, with their occupants already tucked in and departed on their nightly sojourns.

I take a swig of my energy drink around mile number 4, glancing at my watch to check my time, and turning to look behind me, perceiving the red flashes of my taillight bouncing off the sidewalk. I look ahead to focus on the darkest stretch of my run up Hawkins Avenue, shielding my eyes from the glare of the oncoming headlights. The lights eventually drop away, giving way to the dazzling moonlight reflecting off the red and yellow strips of my safety vest.

Mile number 5. I turn off Hawkins Avenue onto Ruland Drive, at the southwest corner of the Strathmore Village subdivision. Running up the winding uphill stretch, I nearly slip on a hidden pile of sand. I recover quickly, only for the muted sanctity of the night to be shattered by several dogs barking from the safety of their owners' yards. I guess it was too early for the dogs to be sleeping. A car alarm goes off as I pass another driveway, and I startle a group of friends sitting on the curb as I round the crest of the hill. But slowly I settle back into the rhythm, streetlights approaching with regularity.

Mile number 6. During the day, the flow of my runs are governed by what I see and hear, and the beat of my heart. At night, I start to appreciate the keenness of my other senses - what my feet feel along the road and how my fingers respond to the breeze. But my strengthened sense of smell is what truly amazes me. I can smell the gentle fragrance of the blooming perennials I cannot see, the welcoming musty smell of sprinkled water falling on freshly cut grass and dry earth, the wafting odor of dying charcoal embers from a recent barbecue. The night in general is more pleasing to the olfactory bulb than the day. Surprisingly overwhelmed by the cornucopia of smells, I look towards the sky to clear my nose and observe thousands of stars in the sky (millions if not for the brightness of the moon). The sight truly gives a sensation of floating in space. Suddenly, my vision is obscured by a covering of leaves and I quickly look down and turn to avoid running into a tree.

Mile number 7. Another steep hill and now I am definitely getting tired. A car is idling on a driveway, and a couple of people are standing next to it, deep in conversation, but looking at me and scratching their heads. I run by a couple of sprinklers, seeking to cool down my aching legs. Back onto Strathmore Village Drive and up one last hill, a sharp pain emanates from my left ankle. My body, specifically my Achilles tendon, is awake now and warning me that it is almost time to go home.

Mile number 8. I slow down a bit - cannot afford to have my ankles quit and leave me sidelined for a while. I exit the Strathmore Village neighborhood about 6 minutes later onto the sidewalks of Wireless Road. I pick up speed, goaded by the headlights of the cars behind me, but am still going at a comfortable pace, crossing when it is safe, I re-enter my neighborhood and sprint for the last 20 seconds, thinking of the lime- and raspberry- flavored popsicle sticks waiting for me in my freezer. My feet stop. I'm finally home.

"If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years, how man would marvel and stare."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Random Running Statistics:
Total distance run - 98 miles
Total time run - 856 minutes (14 hours 16 minutes)
Number of runs - 21
Maximum heart rate - 188 bpm
Minimum heart rate - 144 bpm