EDITORS NOTE: This month, Climb For Kids is heading to China to participate in the Great Wall Marathon. One of the participants, Jessie Alan, was kind enough to put together a bunch of thoughts on the event, her preparation and what the run means to her.
As the day we depart draws nearer (we’re less than a week, eek!), I’m still finding it difficult to beat back the winter doldrums and get out to pound the pavement.
I tried, Hal Higdon – I really tried. Your novice training schedule seems reasonable enough, but it doesn’t account for the crushing effects of one of the longest, coldest, crappiest, most depressing springs Seattle has ever seen.
The main thing I took away from your training schedule – which came highly recommended from a good friend and talented marathoner, and really it really is fabulous – is the resting part. Don’t want to overdo it.
So, because I’m desperate for inspiration to run and one of the things I love most about running is how I take in my surroundings, I decided to go on a field trip to Conway, Washington last weekend. Exit 221!
This is where I lived more than (eek again!) ten years ago, when I worked for the National Outdoor Leadership School. NOLS has the most amazing little compound here, less than a mile off of Interstate 5, and I made it my harbor after graduating from Michigan (if you took physics and organic chemistry in your last quarter like I did, then you know how ready I was for a break). I learned to climb a little better, practiced my z-pulleys and prusiks, learned to roll a kayak (very well in flat water) and juggle (badly), and nearly every day I ran in the flat, fertile and endless Skagit Valley.
Cross the highway, turn left at the whitewashed Lutheran church. Grassy berm holding back the Skagit river along one side of the road, and acres of farmland stretching away from the other. It goes on forever, interrupted only by the occasional passing pickup truck or mean farm dog. Running in such vastness lets your mind slow down and wander; you feel like you could run forever, until your ankles, knees and hips remind you that you can’t.
For more than ten years I’ve remembered what it feels like to run this road, and maybe I was a little heavier on my feet this time but it was truly an inspiration to be back there. When I got home to Seattle and went running the next day, there in my hip belt were the two huge rocks I’d picked up and carried, to protect myself from getting bitten in the ass again – something I’d learned from my dad, but failed to do one fateful day when a farm dog left its property to literally chew me out. This time, I hadn’t needed it. Wish I hadn’t carried that extra weight.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Jessie – this is a really lovely blog post. I love the voice of your writing; it sounds like you.
Do you still climb at all? Want to go climbing (when you get back, of course!) with me?
Hi Corey – thanks so much for reading, it means a LOT to have Projectline’s blog maven checking out my writing. So glad to hear my voice is coming through well.
I love climbing and I need new partners actually. I can probably lead a 5.8 sport route at Vantage right now or an easy 5.9 at North Bend, and that’s where I max out. I’ve been climbing for years but pretty much as a follower…can you take me up Liberty Bell or Snow Creek Wall?
J