FROWNS

Now that I’ve been writing this column for a while, more people notice me out running, or so it seems. In addition to friendly greetings, I’ve also received advice on various topics including my running style, running clothes style (or lack thereof) and my demeanor. A few folks my age or so who have seen Joan Benoit Samuelson, the renown marathoner from Maine, run, or films of her running, say I’ve got a similar form. Since the great Mrs. Samuelson (who at 50, is in my age group) is still able to rip off a sub 2:50 marathon, any resemblance between us is at best, fleeting. Her coach once described Joan as “a bowling ball with legs,” so that must be the connection.

The comment I get most often, however, has naught to do with anything even remotely flattering. No, the most-oft heard remark is in the form of a question and runs something along these lines: “Say, you write that running column? In the Journal?” I nod. “So how come when I see you running you don’t look happy? In fact, some times, you’re frowning!”

While this is true, let me hasten to point out that if you, in your travels, see me out running, do at least say hello. Whenever I see another runner or walker on the streets or bike path, I try to smile and at least wave. I love running with other people. In the last marathon I ran, I met a dermatologist from Florida who ran with me for miles. We talked about running, of course, and many other things: books, work, children, travel, etc. Please don’t be put off if I happen to be frowning and feel free to join me if you’re out running when I am, even if only for a mile or two.

In checking with some of my running friends on the frowning issue, I learned that they too have heard something similar about themselves while running. It’s caused me to spend some time contemplating why we appear to be unhappy when involved in an activity we profess to enjoy. If it’s fun, we should be grinning, right? Or does running draw the masochists among us?

One of my other leisure time passions is reading. Rather than tunes, I often listen to audio books when I run. (Now, if I could find a book club that runs, that would be truly sweet.) When I’m sacked out in my favorite seat at home, cat on my lap and immersed in a book by a favorite author, or exciting new novelist, I’m wonderfully content. And I don’t think I’m frowning.

That comparison left me wondering (just for a moment) if I really do love running as much as I think I do. While reading is a pure pleasure, running presents its challenges. There are certain days when it takes discipline to suit up, tie on my shoes, and go out for a two-hour run. One Sunday in late December the flags around town—even the huge one at Perkins—were being blown straight out by strong winds. I found myself puttering around the house doing any number of tasks (even cleaning!) instead of heading out for my run. Eventually, I got out there, but it was a tough workout and I know I wasn’t smiling until I got home.

That last line is the key. To be good at running requires a commitment to run regularly. That takes more energy than reading, even if you factor in lighting a fire in the fireplace and brewing up a nice cup of tea to go along with the book. Getting to the end of a good book is nice. Getting home after a punishing run is way beyond nice, more like exhilarating.

To be good at running often requires scheduling some runs wherein you push yourself. Runners plan speed work, where we run shorter distances with sets of fast intervals, e.g., one day, I might run 6 half-miles at my race pace, with slower half-miles in between. While they don’t have to be, these runs can be accomplished on a track. They often feel like work, not play.

Other types of workouts include hill runs, which might just be a hilly course or running up and down the same hill, as with the intervals and tempo runs. Tempo runs call for a runner to warm up for about 15 minutes, then to run fairly hard for at least 20 minutes, followed by a cool-down for the last 15 minutes. “Fairly hard” is hard to define; I’d describe it as a slower pace than what you’d run in a race, but uncomfortable enough that you’d enjoy slowing down. The overall length of a tempo run depends on the distance for which you are training. There are other types of training runs, but along with long slow distance runs for half and full marathoners, these are usually thought of as being key.

What about your other hobbies? Are they pure pleasure, as reading is for me, or do you have one that causes you to frown? My college roommate was an excellent seamstress and loved to sew. I can still recall accompanying her to the fabric store, where I’d find a secluded corner and pull out my book until hours [so it seemed] later when she was finished shopping and we could go home.

As I think back, I remember hearing her in the next room when she was embarked upon a project, e.g., she made her dad a suit coat one spring. The sewing machine would whir for a bit, then stop. “Shoot!” she’d mutter. Then I’d hear the sound I recognized as her seam ripper being used in a vigorous fashion. You can be sure her brow was furrowed and her lips set in a determined line as the coat took shape. One day, I wandered over to her at her sewing table and asked her why she was doing this if it was so frustrating.

Her immediate response was that she wanted her dad to have a coat that would fit him really well and be what he really wanted. “But in general, why do you like sewing when it’s so hard?” I pressed. She thought for a little bit, then tried to explain. She talked about the feel of the fabric, the hum of the machine, the sense of creation in your hands and finally, the thrill of accomplishment when the piece is completed.

I’m not sure I fully grasped what she meant then, but I think I do now. Most of the time, I really do love running. There are days, however, when I’m working at it. Those are the days when you probably see me frowning, as well as paying more attention to my watch than to the scenery. The payoff comes at the end of a race that’s been run well, where I’ve maintained a steady pace, not hit “the wall,” and finished within my goal time.

We all have pastimes that are pleasurable and do not require much effort from us. Reading, watching TV, playing computer games: one of these must be on almost everyone’s list. These are fun, or perhaps even soothing after a hard day. Think about the other things you love to do that require a bit more effort: gardening, playing an instrument, making or refinishing a piece of furniture. Despite your skill at and enjoyment of these activities, I’ll wager that they cause you to frown at some point while you’re involved in them. If you reflect for just a while, you probably can articulate why you continue to pursue them, just as my roommate did about her sewing.

Despite the occasional discomfort, stubborn weed, intricate rhythm or knot in the wood, we persist. Perhaps “despite” is used here incorrectly. Is the underlying explanation that it is because of the hurdles faced and cleared that we feel so bound to our passions? A bit of adversity jumpstarts our adrenalin and engages our minds. As we work through the hard bit, we learn more about the subject at hand and improve our skill level. Conquering the tough conditions or solving the puzzle brings a surge of confidence and mastery.

The next time I’m torn between getting outside for a training run in winter weather and staying inside with my book, I’m going to try to remember writing this column. Then I’ll put down the book, layer on the running clothes and head on out, reminding myself to smile as I begin my warm-up. It may not last, but it will return when I complete my scheduled miles and am jotting them into my log. And you know, the book will be right where I left it.