Run Life From Your Core

Running life from your core takes practice, patience, vigor, curiosity, and the continued desire to seek and find the pieces of the puzzle hidden in plain sight.  Everyday I train: My mind. My body. My soul.  

Building up my base so that I can enjoy life and live every moment to the fullest.  It isn’t about being skinny, achieving an arbitrary number on a scale, or looking “hot”. It’s about feeling good and about breaking down the obstacles that lie in my path, and harder yet, the obstacles I have put there to slow myself down, to prevent myself from moving forward.

“Your body will argue that there is no justifiable 

reason to continue. Your only recourse is to 

call on your spirit, which fortunately functions 

independently of logic.” 

- Tim Noakes: The Lore of Running 

I train because I love the pain.The sore muscles, that spent feeling -- the temporary weakness experienced by the body, overcome by the mind.  One night in June after a particularly hard track workout I felt completely worked over and exhausted when a friend reminded me that “pain is just weakness leaving the body”. Personally, I love the feeling of weakness taking shape as beads of sweat on my skin, evaporating, then invisible, gone: only strong remains.  

I live for the feeling of exhausted muscles, shaky legs, and slipping into compression socks that hug my calves and refresh my legs, so I am ready when life comes calling. 
If you want to move forward you have to be ready.

“To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”

- Steve Prefontaine

My recovery involves sitting with my feet up, in compression socks, writing and sipping tea, listening to music and trying to make sense of my life and then share it with my small corner of the world.  Triathlon training builds the physical and mental muscle, so that when I sit down to write, the writing process heals my body by keeping me still, present, in one place; and brings fresh ideas and insights, the butterflies that follow me home on my run, and find their way onto paper, a story, a sentence.  A word. Meaning. Life. One page, one mile, one day at a time.

“Good things come slow, especially in distance running.” 

- Bill Dellinger 

They say to write well you have to write often, that it helps keep the cobwebs at bay.  I would change that and say that in order to run and write well you have to run and write often, it helps keep the cobwebs and kinks at bay.  When I run before I write my brain is stimulated in different ways and the thoughts and ideas that flow are more abstract, unexpected, and pure. I find sitting to be very difficult work and it doesn’t take long before I start to bemoan being stationary, I need to move.  Running gives me movement, it wears me out.  By the time I get to sit down and write, sipping tea, listening to music, I am ready to receive the moment for what it is: a gift.  Running makes me give thanks each and every day for movement. A body in motion.  That is a gift.  Running and writing about it is how I honor the gift of motion.

 “I write to find out what I think”

- Stephen King 

Training hard is the strategic, systematic process of breaking the things that beg to be broken, the parts of my body and mind that cry out for more, giving them what they want, what they need, burning them down to build them back up again, stronger, better, faster. Finding new ways to fix old problems, habits, and ways of knowing and doing. Training.I do not “exercise”, this isn’t about “personal fitness”, or “weight-loss”.  I train for life.  

Simple. Running is simple. And complex.  Pleasure. Pain. And all you need is a pair of running shoes. Get outside and run, let nature do the rest. 

A section of Pre's Trail in Eugene, Oregon - Jan 2013 

I run because I believe in magic and the simpleness of an ordinary run that can somehow, through perspiration, effort, and distance can transform instantly into a force of its own, allowing you to dig deep and tap into the energy of the universe, when you get “there”: you feel like you can run forever. Heart and my legs fueled by pure unadulterated bliss. Flying.

Cranking out hill repeats, digging deep, cracking myself open to peer inside and seek to find the simple answers that lie in wait at the perimeter of my mind and on the outskirts of my life. The fringe.  Feeling the burn in my legs and the oxygen flowing through my lungs, trying to keep my breath steady, form strong, until I break and start sucking wind, until the lactic acid takes over my entire body and the burning feeling becomes fire, which to my endorphin flooded brain feels like pleasure, like sweet satisfaction.  

“Dig deep into that inexhaustible well of grit, guts and determination.”

 - Ken Chlouber, Leadville Trail 100 Founder

Satisfaction keeps me moving forward and the “feeling”, the experience of a satisfying workout an wash over you like a shower and the best part is: it lingers.  Not every run is a “good” run, but if I run long enough, any run has the potential to be an epic, mind-opening experience.  If you push yourself against your comfort zone, you’ll start to break the wall down, brick by brick.  Mile by mile.  Day by day. Page by page.  Waiting on the other side of your fears and doubt you will find possibility.  

In running and in writing, I find the more I “do”, the better I think, feel and perform.  There is of course a limit and I’m always pushing up against the limit, expanding my boundaries, refining, tweaking, breaking it down to make it whole.  Our move here was the third in “recent history” in our quest to find something we’ve both been looking for and by the time graduation came in mid-December I was exhausted.  My training slowed, but was never put on hold.  I kept at it, week after week.  Progress was slow and motivation was low, but I kept moving forward.  

“You could carry your burdens lightly or with great effort. 
You could worry about tomorrow or not. 
You could imagine horrible fates or garland-filled tomorrows. 
None of it mattered as long as you moved,
 as long as you did something. 
Asking why was fine, but it wasn’t action. 
Sometimes you just do things.” 
- Scott Jurek 

Sometimes running wins the race, sometimes it’s writing, but the important thing is they’re both in the race, working and training hard to raise the ceiling to new possibilities and to explore the limits of the body, the mind.  It’s a slow and patient process.  It develops, like fine wine and cannot be rushed. 

In Joe Friel’s The Triathlete’s Training Bible, he discusses multi-year training goals and explains how to build a plan several years out, if your goal is a serious endurance event like the 70.3 mile Half-Ironman and the 140.6 Ironman distance races.  Last fall I hoped I would be ready to take on the Half-Ironman this year, but in being patient and listening to my body I realized I have to focus on (re)building my core: fixing the kinks and twinges, before I attempt to tear it down, break it apart, peer inside, and build it back up, stronger, better.  One mile, one day at a time. 

Running is the tool I use to crack my mind open wide so that I may peer inside and watch my thoughts running wild, it’s like trying to catch butterflies without a net. This is where the mind takes over the body and the body enters a new territory where anything is possible. 

Digging deep into that place, that state of mind, the switch flips, the trick is that you never know when it is going to be flicked. One minute you’re dying and the next minute you’re at the threshold of enlightenment about to take a sip from a sacred fountain. 

This is the zone. 

It is experienced in moments which are fleeting and often hard to explain and do not abide by the rules of time in a linear fashion, moments like that make their own kind of time and leave subtle, if any, footprints behind.  Everything and nothing all at the same time.  Empty. Full.  Silence. Noise.  Sweet release. Peace. Breath. Light. Wings.  Butterflies.

“Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow...Only while we are in action is the circulation perfect.” - Henry David Thoreau 

I usually finish a run with a feeling of blank, emptiness.  What now?  Then I sit down to work and attempt to interpret “the butterflies”, the fleeting thoughts, ideas, feelings and emotion that surface when I run hard and give it everything I’ve got, as a result I end up with a good amount of random thoughts and ideas, re-reading my journals is like reliving a run, one mile at a time.  Bits and pieces.  One page at a time.

Running and writing are a harmonious union and have allowed me to find a way to put the many pieces of “the puzzle” pieces together.  I stare at the blank spaces, the missing pieces and recall Rilke (thanks again, A & M): 

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” - Rainer Maria Rilke 

This fall when I began building the blog, documenting The Experience that is The Moose Lodge, I ordered business cards for networking, to include with hard copy submissions, etc.  It wasn’t a big deal, they didn’t cost that much, but they symbolized something important: taking my writing and my experience seriously.  The business card had a line for a corporate motto or other related information.  Puzzled, I thought “what am I all about?”.  

“Isn’t a runner’s story merely a collection of experiences defined by both risk and passion?  We can define risk as a willingness to embrace the unexpected, unpleasant or downright awful in exchange for a chance to feel something strong,  pure and barely controllable.” - Rickey Gates, Trail Runner: Dirt, 2014 ed. 

Last January I opened a new chapter in my fitness and embarked on my “Bad Ass Mother Runner” fitness routine (“BAMR” for short), modeled after an idea for a strength training circuit in Train Like a Mother and Run Like a Mother by Dimity McDowell and Sarah Bowen Shea.  I incorporated an easy warm-up and cool-down, with varied sets of weights and body weight exercises using the bosu, yoga ball, blocks, resistance bands, and gravity.  

What I learned after finishing the Big Wild Life Marathon in 2012 was that my core wasn’t as strong as my thirst for running craved.  I set to work and did daily planks in addition to the BAMR routine and regular triathlon training. Why?  Because if you want to run well your core has to be strong, if you want to live well your core (values) have to be strong. Run Life From Your Core became my personal “mantra”, the fuel that keeps the engine running smooth.  My core. The foundation.  Building it up, to tear it down and start all over again. Training brings you to your knees, if you work hard enough and remain consistent training will grant you your wings.  

One page, one mile, one plank, one day at a time.

Follow This Mother! Another Mother Runner Feature - April 2014

Follow This Mother! By Heather D. on Apr 14, 2014 11:45 pm H.M. Wild with her two kids after a 2K race. Mother runner Krista, who goes by H.M. Wild (Honey Mama Runs Wild is her blog name), made a big life change in 2013—the 30-year-old mom of Maya, 6, and George, 5, and her husband moved their family from Anchorage to a more remote area of the state to live in a log cabin and “live life to the fullest.” She hits the trails whenever she can, and a favorite running event is fast approaching: next month’s Skinny Raven Twilight 12K in Anchorage. My first race ever: Twilight 12K Anchorage, AK, 2011. The path less traveled: After helping my BRF nail a PR in the 2013 Alaska Run for Women, I hopped in my Subaru and headed north with my family, on a whim, to meet with a real estate agent who showed us four remote cabin properties. I felt like I was in an episode of “Buying Wild Alaska.” One place piqued our interest: an unfinished log cabin on the northern edge of the largest National Park and Preserve. We put together the best offer we were capable of and agreed that if it were meant to be, it would be. Running skirt or shorts: I go both ways! Morning, midday or night: 6 a.m. My favorite mile in a race: Mile 10 in a half-marathon—only 3.10 miles to go! I eat 5Ks for breakfast. Me and My Sole Sister, Sara. Coolest thing I’ve seen on a run in Alaska: I was on an orienteering trail run with Run Exceed, a women’s running team that welcomes women of all ages and abilities in Anchorage. Me and another mother runner were in the zone, so we broke free from the group and raced each other up and down the rolling terrain of Kincaid Park to the next orienteering checkpoint. Down the trail another 10 feet rested a mama moose and her young baby. I quickly glanced over at the noise of snapping twigs and rustling leaves when the mama appeared—ears flat, hair raised, legs stomping wildly, moving forward. Everything went blank. When I regained awareness I was hugging a birch tree for dear life, standing next to my running buddy, safe. The rest of our team had caught up and were at a safe distance … It was one of the most exhilarating and terrifying moments of my life. What I thought about during today’s run: Moving forward. One day. One page. One mile at a time. Best way to cross-train: Mix it up! Hit the trails for a hike, swim to my heart’s content, and ride free. I also regularly practice yoga and meditation. ‘Running from my core’: I consulted my Mother Runner bibles: Run Like a Mother and Train Like a Mother to build a core-focused training program to strengthen the weakness in me. I coined it my “Bad Ass Mother Runner Routine.” It involved running as a warm-up, followed by intense body weight exercises (and yes, even the inverted push-up), free weights, leg weights, and resistance bands. Within a few months I felt invincible. This mother runner is living and running happy. Words to live by: When I decided to adopt my mantra, “Run Life From Your Core,” I set about retracing my steps and found that the way to my core can be found along the river, through the woods, across endless wide open spaces, on a  stretch of single-track game trail. Mountains. Water. Sky. All you need is trail shoes. I had to walk the talk. I’d been focusing on the physical aspect of “running life from my core,” but on a personal level I knew that I wasn’t fully living my core values. On Conquering Hills: Prior to moving to the wilds of Wrangell I found I could avoid major hills if I chose to, but since moving here my times have slowed considerably and I’ve been left sucking wind more than I care to admit. The hills are no longer something I can sidestep, in favor of an easier path. I’m either charging up hill, or floating down hill (or falling flat on my face to take a dirt nap). There is no avoidance of the hard, the cold, the hill. I don’t try and conquer it, but rather give thanks for the opportunity to be stronger, better—and faster. My running, in three words: Action Gets Results. Follow This Mother on Facebook and at her blog Honey Mama Runs Wild. Read in browser »

Honey Mama's Homemade Yogurt

Culinary arts is the process of breaking prepared food down to its most basic components, down to the science of food, in order to learn how to master the preparation of a dish from the core ingredients up.  

I was drawn to culinary arts as a profession while sitting under a canopy of birch trees at our family cabin, nestled in a tiny “home” between the roots of the old birch tree tire swing that still stands, swing in tact, at our family cabin. I had a kitchen and prepared meals for my invisible restaurant patrons.  Drawn outside and drawn within, surrounded by the protected land of Denali State Park, learning how to be outside.  

Maya Summer 2013: The Cabin Tire Swing 

An only child wandering and exploring in nature I approached the woods as though they were my culinary canvas.  I used to create “food” masterpieces using a small hibachi grill my dad would fill with hot coals from the fire and my mishmash mess kit: a coffee can to boil water, an old cast iron skillet to fry things in, and a small sauce pot.  My mom would save random things, left over breadcrumbs, old flour, etc. and she gave them to me, to use outside in my culinary creations.  The rest of the ingredients came from the land.  Local. Organic. Wild. Simple. Nature.

February 2007: Denali from The Cabin

Being here has given me time to slow down and appreciate the simple in life.  Lured by the promises of simplicity I set out to learn how to make my own yogurt at home which I thought had to be more complicated than it seemed with a high risk of failure, otherwise why wouldn’t everyone make yogurt at home?

I set about researching the numerous ways one can go about preparing homemade yogurt.  Hot pad. Wood stove. Gas oven, left with the light on.  An $89 cuisinart automatic yogurt maker.  A $40 insulated cooler peddled as a yogurt maker.  Skeptical, I continued with my research and tested various appliances (oven and hot pad) for warmth and regularity. In the end the solution turned out to be a picnic sized ice chest which didn’t cost a penny, and the jars actually came with the house.  Win.

Supply list - Check:

• Three quart sized canning jars with lids
• Ice Chest
• Candy Thermometer
• Instaread Thermometer
• Pot
• Water
• Milk, whole or 2% 
• Yogurt Starter or Yogurt  

The convenience of food in our modern age makes us forget the simple process of fermentation and the impact it has on a wide variety of foods we enjoy and the digestion process.  Slow food.  Good food takes time and cannot be hurried along. Making homemade yogurt reminds you of this and rewards you in the end.  

Using a spoon or spatula mix yogurt and milk, then:

From start to finish the process took 27 hours, plus an additional 6 hours to chill the yogurt; about a day and a half of minimal supervision and low-effort (the ability to use and read a thermometer and change water over).  

The method I followed was in line with the “Specific Carbohydrate Diet” recipe for homemade yogurt which takes 24 hours of fermentation vs. 6 hours and reduces the amount of remaining lactose in the yogurt making it easier for digestion.  Anything beyond 6 hours is a matter of personal preference.  

My homemade yogurt turned out thick, rich, and creamy.  I made two separated batches (6 quarts) over the course of a week experimenting with 2% and whole milk, and Mountain High plain yogurt and Nancy’s honey whole milk yogurt as starters while I wait for my SCD “legal” cultures to arrive in the mail from Cultures for Health.  

The whole milk yogurt would be perfect for making homemade frozen yogurt and as a substitute for sour cream and could be turned into a yogurt cheese.  The 2% is a good eating yogurt and can be used in smoothies.  I strain off the excess liquid when I open a container of liquid and reserve it to be blended later into my (new) favorite recovery smoothie:

Honey Mama’s Tropical Recovery Smoothie

Combine the following in a blender:

1/2 C  yogurt liquid and/or yogurt
1/2 C  coconut water 
1/2 C  fresh squeezed orange juice (cara cara)
1 ea    banana 
Dash  Redmond Real Salt 

Blend until smooth.  I like to serve it over a few frozen yogurt cubes I make in ice cube trays in the freezer. I use plain yogurt and as the drink thaws it becomes a soft-serve like cream blended with the sweetness of the smoothie it creates the perfect balance of sweet and tart, naturally.

Enjoy!

July 2013: Under a canopy of birch trees at The Cabin.

 "Real culture is here to be found. First of all, we can begin by cultivating taste, rather than impoverishing it, by stimulating progress, by encouraging international exchange programs, by endorsing worthwhile projects, by advocating historical food culture and by

 defending old-fashioned food traditions." - Excerpt Slow Food Manifesto 

Born to Run

"We’re told of the importance of listening to our body and the messages it sends us, and it’s true—the answers present themselves if you dedicate yourself to seeking them out, but sometimes you have to play the role of firm and loving parent and tell your body to suck it up, stop whining, and keep moving. My heart was racing, my lungs ached as I sucked in the frozen night air, my legs were on fire, all of my body’s internal alarms were going off simultaneously and for the first time in my life I dismissed them. As I ran the streets that night I realized if this was going to kill me, so be it, I would die trying to feel; to feel something real, to experience the pain I’d silenced, to meet my deepest fears head on and to grieve the losses I held tightly within the chambers of my heart. I would do it one step at a time, one mile at a time, one day at a time. Moving forward." 

- HM Wild 

To read the full essay, go to Alaska Pacific University: Turnagain Currents, Spring 2014:

http://turnagain.alaskapacific.edu/born-to-run/?fb_action_ids=10201570274966587&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=feed_opengraph&action_object_map=%7B%2210201570274966587%22%3A644050545663004%7D&action_type_map=%7B%2210201570274966587%22%3A%22og.likes%22%7D&action_ref_map=%5B%5D

"You could carry your burdens lightly or with great effort.  You could imagine horrible fates or garland filled tomorrows.  None of it mattered as long as you moved, as long as you did something. Asking why was fine, but it wasn't action. Sometimes you just do things." 

- Scott Jurek 

Howl: Running with the Wolves

<howl> 

I roll over in bed, adjusting my eyes to the darkness and the contrast of silvery moonbeams that dance across the OSB plywood floor, lying under my dense Unique quilt, 20 or so bandanas sewn together, memories that keep me warm in the darkness. 2:36 AM. 

<howl>

Nudging my husband laying in bed next to me, another <howl> followed by the sounds of footsteps in the snow on the back porch.  “What’s that noise?” I whisper with a shaky, uncertain, half-awake voice, to my mostly asleep husband. 

<howl>

The last howl sent chills down my spine and I suddenly find myself on my feet. Horizontal to vertical in about a second flat.  By the time my feet hit the floor Parke was already halfway downstairs to explore the source of the howling and shuffling footsteps in the snow.  

“We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be –the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer – which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.” 

― Farley Mowat, Never Cry Wolf

I ran to the bathroom window that looks out toward the barn and in the darkness I see two pointy ears, a big bushy tail, and thick dark coat saunter across the open field in front of the barn with the light of the moon illuminating the path.  

Wolf?  

Blinking a few times to put the scene in perspective, as the creature made its way past a burn barrel I realized this animal is too big to be a wolf. Too big to be a wolf.  Then feelings of relief surface when I connect the dots in my sleepy brain. 

Cody.

Our neighbor’s 150# Alaskan Malamute Mix Husky dog, Cody.  He’s a social guy who likes to come by and say hello from time to time.  The next morning at the end of our driveway at the bus stop I chatted with the bus driver, Cody’s owner, about our nighttime visitor.  Later that day a dozen beautiful mixed chicken eggs were delivered on the afternoon bus, and that is how we started to get fresh, as local as it gets, eggs delivered to our house on the school bus.  An introduction to rural life, one night, one day, one moment at a time. 

“A man might befriend a wolf, even break a wolf, but no man could truly tame a wolf.” 

― George R.R. Martin, A Dance with Dragons

One morning a few weeks after we first saw The Moose Lodge, my mom called me first thing in the morning, frantic over a dream she had about me the night before. Me and The Wolves.  I’d been run down in the driveway by a pack of wolves, dressed in my running gear that was torn and bloody.  Dead.  That night my best friend had a similar dream. Each called me and told me their dream.  Both dreams hit me hard and deep; I didn’t know how to interpret them.  Literal death? Figurative death?  A sign?  A reflection? A warning about running with the wolves?

“To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one's place in the world. To say 'I am here.' To say 'I am.” 

― O.R. Melling

Friday night found me and Parke out on our back porch gazing at the moon, watching the wisps of clouds float effortlessly across the face of the moon, filtering out the light, creating a hazy glow in the darkness.  I whisper to Parke “It just makes me want to howl at the moon!”, then he howled, a long, lone wolf howl that punctuated the darkness and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The Wolfman. My husband.  

“Those are the voices of my brothers, darling; I love the company of wolves.” 

― Angela Carter

<howl> 

A lone call of a wolf replies to my husband’s call, we both erupt in smiles and laughter at the awesomeness of living here, at The Moose Lodge, talking to the wolves.  Then the sled dogs chimed in, followed by a pack of yipping coyotes, and then the wolf.  In our cul-de-sac bound life in Los Anchorage standing on your porch in Labrador Circleville, howling at the moon while standing on your back porch simply would not be tolerated. Period.  The polarity of life at Labrador Circle and life here at The Moose Lodge is still hard to comprehend. Each place a chapter in our lives, but each chapter so completely different. Defining the journey we are on here in The Wild isn’t easy and as the months go on the questions mount and the answers lie in wait.  They will only be uncovered one piece at a time.  Until then, I’m just living the questions and finding my way in this wild, unexpected chapter of our lives.  

“That we can never know," answered the wolf angrily. "That's for the future. But what we can know is the importance of what we owe to the present. Here and now, and nowhere else. For nothing else exists, except in our minds. What we owe to ourselves, and to those we're bound to. And we can at least hope to make a better future, for everything.” 

― David Clement-Davies

Seven months ago today we left Anchorage behind, headed North, then East, deep into the interior to the edge of a wide, winding river, framed in by mountains in every direction and sunsets that slip across the sky, stretching rays of golden light out across the tips of the dense taiga forest, kissing the wide open spaces with light, tantalizing and teasing the eyes with sheer light as it dances across the mountaintops bringing light to the dark corners of the landscape, before extinguishing giving way to the darkness, the quiet, the night. 

<howl>.  

“There is no better way to know us than as two wolves, come separately to a wood.” 

― Ted Hughes

Cloud Cult: Running With The Wolves

Running with the wolves.
It's time for us to go.
Left all our clothes.
With the car left by the road.

And we were running.
For a reason.
For the burning, in our veins.
And we were running.
For a reason.
We just need to get away.

Running with the wolves.
We're screaming at the stars.
Left all we own.
In a hole in our backyard.

And we were running.
For a reason.
Left our cubicles in little flaming piles.
And we were running.
For a reason.

I need to feel something different for just a little while.

I'm not coming home.
I'm staying with the wolves.
They can burn all my mail.
And disconnect my phone.

Tell my mom I'm sorry, sorry for leaving.
But I'm staying.
Now we're running to find meaning.
We're gone, and we're never coming back.

“Sometimes the one who is running from the Life/Death/Life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only. Yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is chased away and surfaces another time. To love means to embrace and at the same time to withstand many endings, and many many beginnings- all in the same relationship.” 

― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype