I stopped, and bowed to the owl, thanking it for coming to visit me again. I opened my awareness to pure consciousness, wanting to sense the field of the owl and listen for anything it might be wanting to tell me. After a few moments, I heard a sound behind me. I turned to look, and the second owl was there, on a branch about the height of my head, only about six feet away. What a gift, to have the owls trust me and come so close!

When I turned back to look at the first owl, it was gone, but suddenly it swooped over my head again. I remembered stories about great grey owls that I’ve heard from friends recently, and recalled that they can be aggressive, even knocking peoples’ hats off their head. It occurred to me that maybe the owl was telling me to hit the road, that I was too close to the nest or something. I said this to the owls, that I would continue on my way, and turned to continue running up the path. Next thing I knew, one of the owls had struck me very forcefully on the top of my head. Ouch! What a shock! It was a forceful blow, quite amazing considering these owls only weigh about four pounds.

Okay, okay, I get the message, I’m leaving! I thought. I continued to run up the path, and one of the owls swooped very close to my head again, though it didn’t strike me this time. It continued swooping in loops alongside me a few more times, until I came to the same bend in the road as the previous night. There the two owls perched, and watched as I left their territory. I paused to say goodbye, voicing the fact that I didn’t much like being struck that way, but still appreciated their presence.

As I continued up the next bit of trail, the full impact of what had happened sunk in. I began to cry as I ran. My head hurt, but what hurt more was my heart. I had been so open to the presence of the birds, feeling like it was a gift. I thought I was special, and that the encounter was proof that I have some kind of special connection with nature. I have longed for closeness with wild creatures, and the night before it had seemed this was what was happening. And also it had seemed a clear answer to a question I was holding. In previous times, when people were closer to the land, the land and her creatures were ensouled with meaning, and such encounters had significance. I had sought this significance myself, but in feeling physically hurt, it seemed all of this was wiped away. I was just a fool on a run, blundering through an owl’s territory, unwelcome. All of this wounded my pride, my identity, shook up my view of reality.

Suddenly I had more sympathy for people who feel frightened of nature. Perhaps this is what was most upsetting about the encounter (and also the gift, to understand how others feel). I have always felt nature is a friendly place, or at worst neutral. But it’s a place I have felt safe, and have trusted. This encounter shook that trust. I don’t know yet the full impact on me.

I will be running leg 4 of the race, which is 21 KM long. This leg will begin at about 1:00 AM at the Canada Customs post between Alaska and BC, and will finish at Tutshi Lake. Gordon ran this leg last year (he’s run 8 of the 10 legs so far), and said it’s mostly downhill. Uh huh! Well, sounds good to me. There’s nothing like running through the wilderness in the dark!

This relay race has been going since 1982, with a really big turnout in 1998, the centennial of the Gold Rush Stampede. In 1998 there were 161 teams. Unlike in the actual stampede, we will not be required to run with 1,000 pounds of gear on our back!

There’s 10 weeks until the race, and I’ve prepared a great training schedule for myself. My sister Kim, who is doing a master’s degree in psychology, suggested I conduct a single-subject study on endorphin release during distance running. So I will be keeping track of how happy I feel as this training progresses! Yes, running can lead to an altered state, which is why a lot of us do it. (Plus we get to eat all the chocolate we want!) I’ll keep you posted.

I wasn’t trying that hard. I started slow, trying to keep to a comfortable pace. I positioned myself up near the front, so I wouldn’t have the problem of having to pass people constantly. Instead, for the first minute or two people were passing me. But this was a totally different race than the international event of the Vancouver marathon. It had a grassroots, community feel, and the numbers of people were much lower. So I didn’t have the same issue with being crowded. Most of the course was very spacious, except for one short bit where the width was just two runners wide. Anyway, trying to go slow, I found that my time for the first 1K was 5:45. Not slow! (For someone who has a 7 minute per KM training pace, and a half-marathon pace of 6 minutes per KM.)

As the kilometres ticked out I noticed that I was sustaining a pace that was well under 6 minutes, which meant that unless something unforeseen happened, I was going to beat the 1 hour mark. I guess this kept my effort strong. I was pushing myself beyond a comfortable pace, it’s true, but also enjoying the beauty of the sunshine, the sky, and the UBC campus. I felt kindly towards my fellow runners, for the most part. Much less reactivity than in the last race. (One incident, which I will relate soon, was an exception to this!)

In the second half of a race I always feel more confident, as I’ve made it halfway and know I can do the same again. Since I was already running so strongly there wasn’t as much room to increase my pace in the second half, but I started using the focuses I’d learned at Angela’s ChiRunning workshop. Lifting my feet to kick them up behind, feeling a lightness and looseness in my stride (a smooth-moving organism, with no hitches or glitches, just effortless freedom of movement). I also used the eyes-ahead focus, looking on runners ahead of me rather than at the ground. And strangely enough, this drew me forward to pass the runners ahead, over and over… At one point an eagle soared overhead, and that really seemed a blessing.

After I passed the 8KM mark I decided to hold nothing back, and ran even faster. I was right at that threshold of anaerobic activity, where I was working harder and using more oxygen than my body could take in. I love playing at that edge. And I must say, race time is the only time I get the chance to do it, as I can never run this fast when I’m on my own. A gift of the race, definitely. So for the last two kilometres I was really running hard, and then, I had my little moment of reactivity. Gliding along the sidewalk in that effortless smooth way, with other runners sparsely situated ahead and behind, someone from the 5K race (identified as such by a different bib colour) was walking up the race path in the opposite direction from the race. There was plenty of room on the grass beside the sidewalk, and room all around, so why was this guy walking on the racecourse? It felt like a disruption in the flow, and a lack of respect for the racers (and me in particular!), and it pissed me off.

As I passed him I couldn’t contain myself and I said “Arrogant prick.” I heard two women nearby snicker a bit. I felt a boost of adrenaline flood my body, and I was off, running even faster than before! At this point I was only a few hundred metres from the finish line, though I didn’t know it as I had missed seeing the 9K marker. I just let the extra energy move me on, speculating as I did so whether this was a positive thing or not. In that moment it felt pretty fucking good, let me tell you!

I came around a corner and heard the announcer and saw the finish line ahead. I could hear two women coming up behind me, and I just didn’t want to let them pass me. So I ran even harder, and discovered the incredible blessing of a grassy lane as the final stretch, right through the finish line. Wow! Running on the green earth. I gave everything I had, and I could see the time on the clock at the finish line as I got closer. It was 55 something! I pushed even harder, and I couldn’t help but say “Holy Shit!” as I ran under the Finish banner and saw that my time was under 56 minutes. Oh my god!!

I almost fainted from lack of oxygen, so walked around the big green grassy field for a while, getting my breath back and feeling the euphoria of knowing I’d done something I’d never thought I could do. What a great race! I loved everyone who was in it, and all the people who volunteered and put it on.

I usually like to leave right after a race, but this time I stayed. I talked to some other runners, and did my post-race yoga in the big grassy field. Then I partook of the amazing feast that the North Shore Credit Union and race organizers had put out. Beautiful fresh strawberries and watermelon, veggies, hot dogs and burgers, chips and cookies. People sat on the grass to eat, and cheered as the announcements were made about the race results. I sat on the grass and ate the food and enjoyed the bonhomie of this celebration of running, community, and the longest day of the year. Wonderful!

One added benefit of organized road races is that they always raise money for a worthy cause. This time it was to fund research for a cure for Juvenile Diabetes. So that’s another reason to feel good about doing this crazy thing called racing. I also wanted to mention to you the innovation in timing chips. The last few half-marathons I was in, the timing chips were disposable, which meant race volunteers didn’t need to cut the chip from our shoes and put them in a bucket. This time, the timing chip was built right into the race bib! It is amazing to consider that 10,000 years ago, humans were living a hunter-gatherer-fisher lifestyle. And now, this! Isn’t this world a strange and marvellous place?

A while ago on a vision fast in Colorado, Ann Debaldo, a student of the Diamond Approach and apprentice on that vision fast, told me that focusing on the kath would help my feet find their way in the dark. I have certainly found this to be true on night runs when I can’t see the path. But yesterday I tried it in broad daylight, and what a revelation! First, I could see so much more of my surroundings by looking straight ahead rather than at the path. My eyes and soul could take in the magnificent greenness of the forest and the purity and freshness of the snowy mountain peaks ahead. Also, by focusing on the kath, my mind was much more still, which meant I could absorb the impact of the surroundings more. This is what I long for when I run in the forest; to be impacted by the beauty of nature, and have that freshness enliven the dead, stale spaces of my soul that get trapped in endless dry thought patterns. It was so refreshing!

And finally, I find it very difficult to rest in the kath centre when I do my sitting meditation each morning. But resting in the kath while running was very easy! I felt a fullness there, like a thick liquid, resilient and substantial. It actually seemed motionless, though my body was in movement. It was a wonderful way to experience the kath. And my feet did indeed find their way, over stones and sticks, potholes and lumps, with speed and agility. I recommend that you try this the next time you go for a run. Just bring your awareness into your belly, below the belly button. And keep bringing it back there when the mind wanders away. I’d love to hear about your experience after you’ve tried it!

By the way, the other thing that I did was to keep my eyes focused straight ahead or looking around at the mountains, trees, and river, rather than on the path. Keeping the eyes focused straight ahead is one of the techniques of ChiRunning. Angela James told me that she had one of her best race times ever when she focused on this technique. If you are interested in learning more about ChiRunning, check out the ChiRunning and yoga retreat at Monkey Valley in July!

And finally, I want to mention an interesting idea I came across in the Winter 2009 issue of Circles on the Mountain, the publication of the Wilderness Guides Council. The Hawaiian Maoli people have an ideal of Mihikala—the act of giving and receiving forgiveness before it is needed. Imagine the freedom of being able to forgive someone, rather than get upset, even before they do the thing that would upset you! The longing for freedom from reactivity is very strong in me these days, so this idea has much appeal. I will try to practice it on the other drivers during the drive in to work this morning!

But I learned today that the sun runs faster than I do. For as I got closer, and I could see I’d already passed the landmark that the rainbow had landed on earlier, the rainbow kept moving away from me. Then the shoreline swung south, and suddenly the whole rainbow was on the left of the path. Then it was shining over Capital Hill in Burnaby. But I swear at first it was right over the path in front of me, and I was going to run through it!

I’m not sure how it kept moving farther away. I guess as the ball of the sun sinks it changes the angle and the light refracts through more distant clouds, just like the sunset colours in the clouds can move across the sky.

Ah well, it was a mystic run, and I am just about ready to take the plunge and sign up for the full marathon. Woohoo!! (Sorry, carryover from the Olympics!)

last chance to get my act together for the Vancouver marathon 2010

This run was roughly 33 KM (probably a little under, but it was trail running, so the actual time to run 33 KM on roads would be less than the time I ran today). So I am back on track with the training schedule, and I’m aiming to tackle my first ever marathon on Sunday, May 2.

Today’s run was 35 minutes longer than I have ever run before! For the last part of the run I kept saying to myself, every step I take is farther than I’ve ever run before. It was really exciting! My last long run was 3 hours and 16 minutes. Today I got to feeling really tired after about 2 hours and 20 minutes, which makes sense because that’s about what my previous limit was over the past 3 years. So it was a real slog for quite a while, and I was very conscious of the fact that trail shoes would be better than the street shoes I was wearing. Every rock under my feet became painful after a few hours. (I noted to myself several times that I must get some trail shoes, but that’s also what I noted to myself on my last long run…)

As I was running along, feeling like I was barely moving, constantly on the lookout for lumps in the lumpy gravel, it occurred to me that I’d probably used up all the energy that was readily accessible. So I wondered how long it would take for my body to figure out how to get at the more deeply stored energy (that is, the fat deposits in my thighs and belly)! Now I was getting to the nitty gritty! I sensed these areas, trying to discover whether I could feel the fat being sucked out to be used as energy, but I couldn’t. I did have flashes of euphoric energy running up my back and into my head now and then. But for a very long time I was slogging, and feeling the assault on my feet.

At about the 3 hour mark I gave myself a nice pep-talk. I had run up to the Seymour Dam, and now was back at the northern end of Fisherman’s Trail. From here it was easy-peasy. A softer trail, mostly downhill (until I hit the Homestead Trail), and best of all, it was MY trail. I’d been on this stretch of the river trail many, many times. So even though I was soon going to go past my limit, since I was on the home stretch of familiar trails it seemed like it would be easy. I KNEW I could make it back. And believe it or not, it seemed like the trees and river along this stretch knew me too, and were sending me friendly energy.

A little later, I glanced at my watch and noticed it was 3:16—the time of my previous longest run. Slog, slog. But it was a bit easier because the trail wasn’t as rocky as the Spur 4 gravel road. Then suddenly, at 3:20, I was infused with energy. Without trying to, I was back to my normal running speed. Aha! So this is how long it took for those fat deposits to give it up! (About an hour.) Or maybe this is just what happens when I boldly go where I’ve never gone before!

In any case, this re-energization lasted for the remainder of my run. My legs felt a bit strange, to be sure, like they were in shock, but the speed was there. Even on the Homestead Trail—1 KM of pure uphill, with very steep sections—I kept up the new pace. In fact, I ran it faster than I usually do! This was from 3:26 to 3:37. And from here it was totally smooth sailing. The little leg of trail over to Lynn Valley Road seemed to vanish under my feet much more quickly than ever before. Across Lynn Creek, and up the road to the cul-de-sac where I’d parked, with the last three minutes on the flat road inside the gate to Lynn Headwaters Park. And I was done!

I let out a whoohoo and a few yeahs with arm punches. But that didn’t truly express the wonder of the moment. Only a coyote howl would do! AAOOOOOOO!! That shut up the little yappy dog nearby!

So I am going to put in my registration for the full marathon. I just have two more runs that are longer than today’s, and I am feeling confident that I can do it. No serious pain in the run or after. I’ll adapt my training a bit to fit with my new work schedule, probably cutting out the 13 KM runs on Wednesdays. That’s the plan, and I hope to see you there!

P.S. If you want to be notified when I make a post on this blog, there is an RSS feed in the footer at the very bottom of this page. Click the blue link that says Entries (RSS).

If you’ve never felt your chi and wonder what it is, try this simple exercise. Rub your hands together in a circular motion until you feel a lot of heat in your palms from the friction. Then hold your hands about an inch apart and sense the space between them. (You might want to close your eyes to allow your other senses to become more sensitive.) You might notice a “cushion” of air, which feels like a slight resistance if you bring your hands slightly closer to each other. Then gradually bring your hands further apart, feeling the energy between them, until they are so far apart that you no longer feel the energy. Then slowly bring your hands together and see what happens as they get closer. It might feel like the space between your hands gets denser as the energy concentrates when your hands come closer together. The energy between your hands is your chi, or life energy. Chi is also all around us, available for us to gather from the air, ground, and living plants.

With chi running, we can gather this chi while running to help energize us on long runs. I noticed I could do this while running through Stanley Park in the Vancouver half marathon—the trees definitely gave me energy in a way that concrete buildings on other parts of the route did not. And we can also replenish ourselves with chi at any time during the day (not just when running). T’ai Chi and another practice called Qigong teach ways for gathering and working with the energy, and opening the channels in our body to help it flow more freely. It is subtle energy, and you might not believe it even exists if you’ve never felt it, but hopefully the simple exercise I showed you will help you to feel it.

I first read the ChiRunning book about four years ago, and practicing the method helped me increase my capacity from the 10K distance to the half-marathon. The techniques show us how to run using the body mechanics most efficiently and effortlessly, allowing us to run long distances injury-free. Previously, pain where the IT band attaches to my left knee prevented me from running long distances. But using the chi running technique, in combination with my yoga practice, I was able to gradually and gently increase my distance from 10K to 21.2K!

So as you can imagine, I was very excited about going to the workshop and learning about the technique from an expert. The workshop was terrific, and I highly recommend it. Angela is a very supportive, skilled teacher. A few students she has coached were also there, offering their insights from the perspective of people who are still learning the techniques. We learned some of the “focuses”—specific techniques—indoors, and then went out on a track to practice them. I was amazed at how using these simple techniques really increased my speed. It was almost scary!

But afterwards, something funny happened. I didn’t want to go running. Hmm, what was going on? The next day was supposed to be my Sunday long run, but I didn’t go. I planned to do it Monday instead, but Monday came and went without a run. In the training program I am following to prepare for the Vancouver marathon this May (which will be my first full marathon!), it says never try to make up a missed run. So Tuesday I did a shorter run, just 56 minutes. And I realized I didn’t want to use what I had learned at the workshop. I didn’t want to mess with my comfortable, slow, plodding running style. I like to just go out and not think about running. I don’t want to go faster! I don’t want to change! Don’t harsh my mellow!

I had my worst running week ever, totally blowing off the training schedule. I only ran three times, though I did do a long run of 2 hours and 40 minutes on Wednesday. But I still didn’t want to try the new techniques.

This experience taught me something about learning, and about the ego. The ego does not want to change, not really, even though we might think we want to change. There are calcified structures within us that keep us going in a familiar groove, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, feeling the same feelings. It takes a huge amount of effort to carve new neural pathways in the brain, which is part of the process of learning a new behaviour. We have to have a lot of motivation and focus in order to persist with this. It is hard to go out of our comfort zones and into new unknown territory. Why, even getting up early on a Saturday and going to the workshop was hard to do, and created an irritable resistance within me that I had to overcome!

So I’m going to give myself a break with the running. I intend to practice what I’ve learned for short periods during a run now and then, but most of the time I will just let myself be. And I think that when things start to get hard in the marathon, that occasional practice of new techniques will pay off. I’ll have some new things to try, to keep myself interested during the 4+ hours of the run. But more importantly, running with the new methods will use my muscles slightly differently, giving me a rest and allowing me to go beyond the limits that my comfortable old style has.

#1 tip from the workshop

Chi running uses the principle of “cotton and steel.” Imagine a needle in a ball of cotton wool. This is what our body can be like when we’re running. The needle is the spine and the core abdominal muscles of our body. The cotton is everything else: our legs, butt, lower back, arms, hands, feet.

Steel: To embody this while running, draw your spine up really long, lifting your head up off your neck (keeping the back of your neck long and tall). Draw your belly in ever so slightly. This engages the core muscles. The long spine and resilient, engaged core muscles provide the steel—the support the body needs to glide effortlessly along, hour after hour.

Cotton: Now let the rest of your body totally relax. I love the feeling of letting go and noticing the muscles in my back loosen and let go like a liquid, from the waist and butt down all the way through my legs to my feet. It feels amazing to let all these muscles totally relax, and to trust that they know what to do in response to the changes of the terrain—I don’t have to do anything. Try this the first time when going downhill, and you will be amazed at the feeling of lightness and freedom!

• And if you listen very hard
• The tune will come to you at last
• When all are one and one is all, yeah
• To be a rock, and not to roll, and not to roll, don’t make me roll…

Oh wait, that’s the live version off The Song Remains the Same. I often insert the live bits when I belt out the lyrics in the privacy of my own car. And I was really getting into it tonight!

Anyway, just as I was reflecting that the answer to the mystery of the universe was to be a rock and not to roll, I saw the most amazing thing. A red wheel was rolling along in my lane. It must have been doing about 70. I was doing about 80 and passed it. It was about 6″ high, and rolling right down the lane! And it was red! And it was rolling!

What does this mean? Could Led Zeppelin have been wrong after all? Is this a sign that the key to the universe is to roll, not to be a rock?!! And if so, how do I do that? Turn cart wheels? Roll in the hay? Play roulette? Rolling actually sounds a lot more fun than being a rock, which doesn’t get to do much but sit there and wait for a glacier to come along!

The absolute best thing about Monkey Valley is running with the bears.

I went for a nice, long Sunday run, heading out along the old dirt road, overgrown with grass, on the other side of the creek. I forded the swollen springtime creek by climbing along an old fence that has half fallen over, and followed the road up to the gate at the south-east edge of my property—a 20-minute run from the house to the gate, all on my own land!

This is one of the things that drew me to look for a remote property—the desire to run on trails where no cars were—breathing exhaust fumes while out for a run is the worst!

I climbed through the wooden rails of the gate, and followed the track up to Galena Creek Road. Along this stretch I thought about bears, wondering if they were finished hibernating. I realized it was a very warm May day—surely they were out of hibernation, and had been for a while!

At Galena Creek Road I headed north-east, going uphill past the 14K marker, and decided to go as far as the 15K marker. At that point I greeted the trees, offered Reiki to the land and all her creatures (as I usually do at the turn-around point of a run in the woods), and headed back.

On the way back I was watching out for a marshy section, which has been a breeding ground for mosquitoes. I’d found it on a medicine walk a few years ago, which had begun with a moose sighting, followed by a remarkable, magical encounter with a bear. So bear was really on my mind today, and looking ahead from the top of a hill, I saw a bear friend looking for greens in the clearing that led to my land!

I immediately stopped at the crest of the hill, and sat down in the middle of the road to watch the bear. He was some distance away—probably about 200 yards—but I had a good view from the top of the hill. I don’t think the bear noticed me. The wind was blowing from Missezula Lake to the bear and then to me. I could smell the lake smell, and I heard grouse drumming out their spring mating dance. In fact, I accidentally ran one off the road during this same run.

But now I was competely absorbed and fascinated by the bear. He was black, and looked quite small, perhaps because of the distance. I wondered if he might be a cub, but there didn’t seem to be any other bears around. He was browsing for new grass to eat—still a sparse commodity in this neck of the woods in May. After a minute or two he ambled east, crossing the road well ahead of me. He looked very thin in profile, and seemed to have a long tail. But what struck me the most was he looked like a human in a bear suit. The way he walked, with purpose and a sense of direction, conveyed the sense of him as an entity with his own business to attend to. Usually when I’ve seen bears they have been running away from me, which is very different from this one who was simply going about his business.

I watched until he was out of sight, and stayed there for a minute or two more, hoping he might wander back into view. How I longed for more time with the bear!

When he didn’t reappear I resumed my homeward run, looking for tracks or scat when I got to where the bear had been. I couldn’t see any signs, though my own tracks from running were plainly visible in the gravel of the logging road. The poor thing must have lost a lot of weight over the winter, to step so lightly that he left no tracks. I climbed a nearby hill on the side of the road where he’d disappeared, hoping for another glimpse, but didn’t see him. So I offered him some Reiki for protection, and the prayer that he would find lots to eat this spring.

Then I headed home, feeling blessed by this encounter with wildness.

We evolved together with the wild animals of the world, and I believe we need their company to feel complete. We are lonely without them.

There are so few of our wild friends left. Don’t hurt them! Stop hunting bears. Stop hunting the wild creatures.

A segment of the wall has been retained as a memorial, and many artists have created idealistic artwork to commerate the opening of the wall, creating a living piece of artwork called the East Side Gallery. As usual, it was already dark out when I set out on my run. Yet there were quite a few people strolling along looking at the artwork, and some were taking group and individual photos of each other against the wall. It was very moving, to see this 10-foot high edifice that had broken hearts and families. It seemed so strange to imagine it. What is the point!? Some people on one side of the wall, some people on the other side. It is only 10 feet high so it’s possible to see over the wall in many areas. They could wave at each other.

One side must have been grey and bleak, and the other side full of colour and shiny bright commercial baubles. But frankly, in light of the environmental devastation caused by the western consumer culture, I found myself favouring the Communist idealism, as I ran along beside the wall, looking at the graffiti-covered artwork. Then I remembered that Communist Russia also has created a huge amount of pollution, especially with nuclear waste from their abandoned atomic submarines. Communist or Capitalist, we all bear responsibility for the shape the earth is in today.

I ran for quite a while, following the wall, dodging around the photo-takers, looking at the art both old and new, hoping to see the famous image of fellow communists Erich Honecker and Leonid Brezhnev kissing each other on the mouth, when suddenly there was a break in the wall, showing the no-man’s land between the wall and the Spree River. And what do you think I saw there? A gigantic flat-screen TV billboard displaying a picture of Lionel Ritchie! What a shock! Across the road I saw a gigantic bubble-shaped building, called O2 World. I learned it is an entertainment complex, and Lionel will be playing there in April. This is the fruits of the wall coming down. East Berlin gets to see Lionel Ritchie. And, in June, the Eagles! May all Berliners experience a peaceful, easy feeling. Ich bin ein Berliner, ja!