Failure?...or this is where two dimensional reasoning gets you.

I was thinking about a high school geometry class earlier today. I spend a lot of time thinking about triangles. More specifically, I was thinking about points.

One point is a point in time/space. 
Two points make a line.
Three points create (potentially) a three-dimensional plane - although the math guru I spawned  would say: "but do not necessarily define a line -- they may not be collinear."
To summarize:  You need three points, at least if you are going to watch Avatar in 3D. You'll probably also need those geeky glasses too, though.

So after I sat down and let the blood rush back to my brain after these esoteric thoughts mathematical , I started to put into perspective a half marathon I ran on the weekend.  My goal was to finish in under two hours. I finished in 2 hours, 3 minutes and change. My personal best for that course is 1:58:48, my first ever run at that distance - and that course was 2:40 and change.

Ignoring the fact that I have been training for my first Marathon (two Ironman finishes don't count) at the end of May and am not completely focused on speed, I initially felt like I failed.

Of course I failed. All the other cool kids are running 1:40s or 1:50s...So what if I'm "big boned" and still running heavy and asthmatic and not very fast over long distances.  I still wanted to get from point A to point B in less than two hours, and I failed. didn't I?

Well. This is why I started thinking about geometry and Euclid, or was that Pythagoras - some Greek in any case. I became aware that my goals have been too two dimensional. I've been thinking about two points, when I should be thinking about three, or four or more.

My goals, as obtuse as they may sometimes seem, are so much more than point A to point B. They involve so many more dimensions, including time - but not necessarily finish time. They include building a healthy life, growing with my family, shrinking girth, and genuinely learning from the journey.

When I crossed the finish line,  I was disappointed. But I have to look at all the individual segments or points of the run  including the points that I was running a 4 minute/km pace; the preparation for it;  the ongoing prep for the full marathon in May and the sprint triathlon in two weeks. Oh and the rest of life that never goes on pause.

I realize that this triangle may not be as easily defined as  a2 + b2 = c2, but it has more relevance to what I'm doing than I first assumed. 

For those of you that are mathematically inclined, you will recall that a sum of a triangle's angles add up to 180 degrees. As I was running 21.1k, preparing to run 42.2k, it became acutely obvious to me that I would be seeing that 180 number before the run...180k bike ride in late August. Coincidence? Hmmm.There are no coincidences!

It is time to pull up my big boy tri shorts and HTFU. I started this journey because I grew tired of looking like a cuddly rhombus. It is not individual races or goals of finish times that motivate me. It is doing the training and building structures, physical, intellectual and emotional where none previously existed. And learning as much about myself in the process as I can.

No, not failure. Eureka!
I'd better get out of the bathtub now.

Finding my euphoria.

There's some words that we use around here. I can't remember who was the first to use them, but they are nonsensical to some and perfectly clear to others.

"If you want to go fast...you have to go fast".

I've been in the doldrums for a few months now. Working through various colds and the flu, struggling with a baffling calf injury, dealing with sick family and now the cold. -42 cold that grips me by the throat and doesn't let go. Even when summer finally slips in unannounced, the cold always lingers...everytime I see see gloves or balaclava or asthma medication...I remember the season that will always return.

This was the season I was going to become a marathon runner. The year that I would increase my mileage and finally consider myself a runner - as a opposed to an Ironman who's managed to get through the run.

Lots of excuses went into this abdication. But most of all, what went into it was the forgetting. The forgetting of how good, how euphoric this exercise stuff is.

Last night I remembered.

Running indoors, I did my usual 30 minutes at an unremarkable pace.
Then I stretched. 40 minutes getting out every last bit of pent up tightness in that damned calf.

I decided to remember what it felt like to go fast. Getting back on the track I did a lap, then took a deep, tentative breath and did 100 metres faster than I have run since last summer. Rounding the turn I ramped it up.

I ran faster than I've run in years. I could feel myself loosing peripheral vision...I wondered about what was deciding where my feet were landing. I saw these odd shadows where my arms should be moving to a long forgotten rhythm. There was music in my ears, but I'm not sure if it was from my ipod's playlist or not.

I ran fast, really fast for 100 metres. And nothing could wipe the smile from my face.

I'm starting to climb up from where I was.

I've found my runphoria!