When I was starting my blog and I was trying to come up with a name the first one that came to my mind was "run for your life". Unfortunately, it was taken, so I came up with the cuckoo one...
I came across the original "Run for your life" blog a few hours ago. It's being written by a guy who just turned 80 and started running in his 50's.
This is his blog, and there are some pretty cool photos in there, too... Run For your Life
This is one that I stole from his blog:
Yesterday, it was probably my worst run ever. I wanted to do my last long run before the race and I decided to go for an hour. Again, I wanted to quit after the first 15', my chest started hurting after 30' and I was thinking that if I had a heart attack it wouldn't be such a bad way to die...
(Note that when I decided to start training for real I had a full check, so I have neither any heart issues that I know of, nor a heart-disease family record.)
I thought that if I don't do this last long run I will be very stressed at my race day, although I'm pretty sure I can run the 10K anyway...
Papi C. told me: "you're just before the race. Go for it, and you can reconsider the whole running thing later.".
But, there is this photo...
I feel so lucky to be able to run in the first place. I don't take things like that for granted anymore.
Don't take for granted that you'll always be strong, be able to run, or enjoy life.
Don't take for granted that you'll live to see another day, that your loved ones will always be there, that you'll always be healthy.
Races are a good way to help you train better for a specific goal. I don't know how my first one will be but I remember how excited I was when I ran my first 5K and then my first 10K.
I remember the late evenings when I was running under the moonlight at a dirt road and I didn't need any artificial light because the moon was so bright. I remember that I did my personal 10K record after I've had a great night at the beach with great company and a bottle of wine. I remember how proud my co-runner and I were when we where finishing another training and that the sweet pain in your muscles after you take a shower reminds you that you've won another race.
Home-made paper lantern at the beach. Worked pretty well :)
So, I guess I'm not stopping after September 2nd...
It's just the end of a 10K and the beginning of a half-marathon :)
Race sign photos from Jill' s blog:
http://bestracesigns.wordpress.com/
When I was a small kung-fu warrior student, my style was the Eagle Claw.
Now that I'm old and I started running I found another bird to inspire me: The road runner.
The road runner is actually a cuckoo and it's the fastest one of the flying birds.
Proud Eagle Claw Warrior
Cuckoo Road Runner
Yep, you got the picture...
When I'm about to go running some people look at me as if I'm cuckoo and they ask me: "Why are you running? Do you want to lose weight?", and then I try to explain that I'm not trying to lose weight (because then I'll disappear) and that it's good for my health. In most cases they avoid any other comment, they just give me this look:
A month ago when I was about to start my afternoon run a middle aged woman who was feeding her goats (yes, goats...I'm in a village, got a problem with that?) told me after we said hello:
"I've seen you doing that. Why are you doing this? Do you want to lose weight?"
I patiently said that it's good for you and she asked me again :
"Is it good for the legs?". I said yes, not wanting to end up in a pointless conversation and then she asked me how much I run.
"Now I'm running for half an hour but you start slowly, first walking, then running"
And the old lady answers:
"Maybe I should do it, too"
I said, sure, why not, have a good afternoon and started running.
A couple of days later I saw the goat lady with a pair of running shoes on and her normal clothes-skirt above the knee and all- walking at the same path I was running. I passed her by, I waved hello, she gave me a big smile...
Last week for the first time I went for an hour long run. I started my run with a song I love:
"They tell me if I leave the circle I'll get lost, in it's boundaries I should only wander, and the world is a wild beast and when it bites I'd better be quiet. And when they worry I might go crazy they tell me to hide somewhere and cry and to remember that I'm way too small to change anything. But I, with a wild proud dance, I'll fly like an eagle above the sorrow I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to get scared... They tell me that if I go high I'll get dizzy, I'd better crawl with them in the mud and if I want to see more I can just stare at a mirror... I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to get scared..."(sounds way better in Greek, but you get the picture)
My first one hour run went great. I ran a total of 11K.
Don't miss that video. You'll watch the Bald Eagle's ritual courtship:
The two eagles lock their claws at high altitudes and tumble in a free fall to break apart just before they hit the ground. They mate for life.
Yesterday, I went for another hour-long run. It was a really bad one... While I was dragging my feet, my legs hurting and my chest pounding I was wondering why the hell am I doing this to myself and I just wanted to stop. Then I remembered all the advice from real and virtual runners: All runners have bad days, don't make this stop you, the next one will be better.
So, I kept going and to my surprise I was dragging my feet faster than I thought.
Every time I'm about to go running I'm thinking that I'm training for my race day in Chios. While I run, though, I'm thinking "this is your race day" and I just run like there is no tomorrow.
When I told some guy that I'm training for a race he asked me "are you good enough to win?". I tried to explain than it's my first one, so I'm just running for the experience. In fact, I don't think I'll ever win a race. He asked me "why would you do it, then?".
My new awesome personal trainer taught me that there are good carbs and bad carbs. Carbs are our "Body fuel", and it's good to know whether the fuel we take from food will last long or not. It's valuable knowledge if you're an athlete- especially a long distance runner- or if you just want to eat healthy.
Carbohydrates are a chemical compound, so they're not good or bad by nature...
The foods containing them, though, can be classified as "good" or "bad" according to if they contain a lot of fiber or not, if they have been heavily processed or not, etc.
The whole good carb/bad carb debate sounds to me almost like "good cop/bad cop". "Good cop/ Bad cop" is a very widely used method of interrogation.
The bad cop is abusive, insulting, aggressive, the good cop is there to help you, he's your only friend in there, the "fatherly figure", someone you can trust. You don't do the talking? Good cop leaves, bad cop comes. Still not talking? Good cop comes again. "Come on son, it breaks my heart to see you like that, I know you're a good kid, release your soul from this weight, talk to me". After hours in the interrogation room reality gets distorted, primitive feelings rise up and you just want the bad cop to go away and the good cop to take care of you and make him stop.
What you should never forget is that none of them is a good cop. None of them is your friend, none of them is "on your side". Their job is to make you confess. Carbs will do their job and fuel your body; if they're "good" they'll be nice to it and make it healthier, if they're bad you'll end up with cellulite and a heart disease. I must confess that I love both; the carbs, that is...
GOOD COP
+BAD COP
= CONFESSION
My cousin finally left home after her husband has been abusing her for years. She has been to the hospital more than once with broken bones and dripping in blood.
An abusive partner is a master at the "good cop/bad cop" technique.
He'll seclude you from your friends so you'll loose the sense of reality. If you don't have people around you to shake you up and remind you that you're in an anomalous situation you'll be so deep inside the situation you won't be able to even see it.
He'll get under your skin and make you believe he's the only one in your life. Then, comes the terror. More subtle at first, some insults, him being angry at you when you felt you did nothing wrong. You need to keep in mind that it never gets better; it can only get worse.
I used to live with a guy that I had to run away from. We weren't even a couple, not that it really matters. We started sharing an apartment, then we became "close friends", eating together, going out together. At some point he developed a crash on me, but I thought that letting him know that I had a long-distance relationship and I didn't see him that way was enough. He was super nice until the time I started going out with guys he perceived as a "threat". He started by saying he doesn't approve of them, by being sad and not talking the day after so I'd try to make him feel better. After all, he was my friend, right? more important than a just guy I'd went out with, right?
Τhen, the fights started, where he became really aggressive (verbally) and insulting. This is when I realized that I was not dealing with an argument with a roommate, but with an unstable and abusive person and I had to leave as soon as possible. He would throw irrational accusations on my face, he would tell me that my mom was lucky to be dead not to see what has become of me. He would come the day after, apologizing, being the best guy ever, begging me to give him a smile and go back to "our happiness". Some other days he wouldn't talk to me at all and when I asked him why he would say "you're not worth it".
I remember spending the last night at the apartment in bed, crying, miles away from home, being afraid he would come into my room and start shouting at me again. All night long, I had my mother's voice in my head, telling me "Don't ever let any man degrade you". The next day, the guy had made me a nice breakfast to apologize and "make friends". I packed a small bag and left.
The next day I asked him to meet in order to break the rental contract for the apartment. I was prepared with the voice recorder of my cell phone ready. What followed was a totally irrational conversation with him telling me that he didn't agree to break the contract, that I had to go back to my senses and return to our happiness, or else... I remembered my kung-fu master saying "never let your opponent see the fear and the pain on your face". I played it cool till the end but I was sitting closer to the kitchen door and I was ready to storm out in case he'd try to grab me. I was thinking "you know some kung-fu moves, this is the time to see if it really works..."
Fear feeds the abusive person, whether it's your boss, your partner or
your husband. They are very weak and insecure people and feel strong
only if they can control and abuse someone weaker.
We are weaker only if they make us believe that. I never showed him how much I was afraid of him.
The next day I took the recordings and reported him. I was lucky enough to live in a country where they take things like that very seriously, so they strongly advised me that I should leave immediately, they even offered me a guard to come with me while I was picking my stuff, and a place to stay.
Many women (or men; I'm referring to women because they are the vast majority of the abused)don't do that. They are not stupid, they are not weak, they don't "enjoy suffering". Actually, the mentality of a Masochist personality type makes the person believe that by making the "sacrifice"of putting up with this behavior he/she prevents another greater "disaster" from happening.
I was lucky enough to have been raised by a wonderful strong woman and a kind and respectful man. Her voice is always in my head.
My cousin calls the parents of her husband, asking if he's "eating properly" and if they're taking care of him. If she goes back, it may be the last time.
My depression didn't start because of this, but it was definitely a catalyst. I spend a month sleeping on a friend's couch. When I came back home for Christmas I had lost so much weight that none of my clothes fit and I couldn't recognize my body in the mirror. Now I don't care if I have a round belly, or if I gain a couple of kilos during holidays.
It doesn't matter if the abuse is verbal or physical, although, physical abuse can- literally- kill you. If you feel scared, if you feel threatened or insulted, run.
You only need your legs, your lungs and your heart; you can even run barefoot. Run for your life.
Tonight, I'm running for an hour.
This is the new song in my mp3 player. Because tonight, tonight, I'm a CARB KILLER!
... a 10K at the 1st Chios race!
All registered and (not so) ready to go yet. I've covered a 8.5K so far and on Sunday I have a 60' run. Let's see how far that' ll take me...
Click here to check out some photos of the 10K trail!
My camera broke down, so I'll try to borrow one and give a full report when I come back. From what I've seen so far the trail through the old villages looks amazing!
But the road I must travel, its end I cannot see...
I once read in a book about analysis that depression is anger turned towards oneself.
I thought "that's one thing that doesn't apply to me!"; and then it hit me: for years I did not express almost any anger at all.
I realized I was getting better when I started getting angry, even at the smallest things: my dad's loud chewing- well, that's not small, I tell you. My dad's also known as "The Man Who eats Everything as if it Were Spaghetti..".- my friend who's playing constantly with her hair, the lady who's walking in front of me as if she's going on a stroll. Blind anger, rising in huge waves, a car's turbo engine- that's the sound in my head. My shrink said it's a great sign of progress, my obsessive-compulsive ex-boyfriend did not appreciate it at all that for the first time I could actually argue. - Obsessive-compulsive personalities are terrified by anger, because they' re afraid it will unleash the dark part of themselves that they're so afraid of. They can only accept anger if it's rationally justified, a contradiction that I don't need to analyze more...-
Ever since, I've started learning how to live with this ugly and deformed part of me. Sometimes it's blind, sometimes it's furious, sometimes it carries a lot of wisdom. If you learn to read your anger it can teach you a lot about yourself. I'm angry with my dad -apart from him being a really noisy chewer- because his presence reminds me that I still haven't gained my full independence. I'm angry at weak and sad people because I'm so strict with myself and I wouldn't allow any weakness for me. Whenever I think about someone else: "man up, you whining sissy, it's a tough world out there!", I remember that this mantra didn't let me take a break when life really stroke hard, and I kept going and going, until I there was really no more power left in me.
"Before you marry a guy you should see him angry and drunk" -said the pregnant girl who was at my age. Her husband bore an uncanny resemblance to a guy I dated for two months. He was like dr. Jekyll and mr. Hyde; the most sensitive and caring guy for an hour and then the macho monster would wake up; the kind of guy who thinks that a woman shouldn't drive if there's a man in the car, the guy who'd swear at me for no reason at all and then beg for forgiveness. My guy picked the wrong girl -I'm a schizoid feminist, dude, not a masochist! - and I hope the pregnant girl really did see her guy angry...
"Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put
water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it
becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now,
water can flow or it can crash. Be water my friend." ~ Bruce Lee.
