They
dance best who dance with desire.
Irving
Layton
I usually begin
a new year not by loading myself down with plans and resolutions but by trying
to find a simple word or phrase that will help with the plans and resolutions I
am sure to dream up over the next 12 months.
This year my
phrase is going to be “Getting There.” As with last year’s choice, “Higher,” I
chose it because it has several possible meanings and senses.
It can be a
reassurance – almost a mantra – we offer ourselves out at mile 80 of Ironman
that we are, in spite of all indications, slightly closer to the end than to
the beginning. It is a calming understatement, no giver of false hope; it can
be infinitely more useful than those well-meaning-but-misguided cheers of the
marathon spectators who call out “You’re almost there!” when we still have 8
miles left to run.
My phrase can
also be inspired by a larger thought: that getting there is half the fun. And
this is actually the way I want to try to slant this. I have always been a
setter of goals, and goal setting has been responsible for most of the athletic
adventures that have enriched my life and kept me sane over the past 30 years.
But I believe it is also possible that in keeping my eyes on the forest, I sometimes
lose sight of the trees.
When I was
running in Death Valley last fall (pictured above), I had no idea whether I
would be able to survive in the unforgiving desert for ten minutes or three
hours. My only real goal was … well … to run in Death Valley. And run I did; I
found myself cherishing every stride. I let the stark landscape and the silent distant mountains surround me, and the hot dry air infuse me, and I was truly sorry when I got to
the end of my planned 18 miles.
Afterwards it
occurred to me that I could do with a bit more Zen and fewer long-term goals in
my outings. To run as though each step is the only one that exists. To enjoy the synergy of working muscles and joints; of
watching the road pass under me; of moving myself across the earth.
My chosen phrase this year means that I
will look at a run or a ride not just as a path to a goal but as an end in
itself. A training run will not just be hay in the barn for some future event;
it will be a chance to remind myself of why I love what I am doing. Or for that
matter, why I hate it, if that’s what I’m feeling at the time. This will be
work for me, as living in the moment is not my natural style. I am a planner, a
breaker of projects into phases and tasks and subtasks. I am always looking towards the goal.
I need to remind myself that finishing a
race may start with a dream, but there is a whole lot of running or
cycling between the dream and the finish line. If I don’t take time to notice the experience while I'm experiencing it, what on earth am I doing out there?
 |
| There are many paths. Choose one. |
I haven’t set
a lot of athletic goals for the coming year. Rather I am going to choose some paths
and see where they lead. I am going to let my training drive my events rather
than the other way around. If I feel up to running an ultra by the fall, I’ll
do one. If not, I will have had a lot of good long runs in the meantime.
I will search
for sensual and mindful value in the doing as well as in the achieving. I will
make the journey my goal. The end of the journey will be the dividend.
