Vištienos sultinio skaitiniai

rugsėjo 4, 2013 § 3 Komentaras

Ai, jo. Aš juk vegetaras. Tai tas vištienos sultinys realiai negalimas man ;). Lūkuriuodamas Vilniaus maratono, gydydamas kairę pėdą (jo, vėl kažkokia rimtesnė trauma) kojos pakėlimu virš širdies, gulimoj pozicijoj skaitinėju “Chicken soup for the soul: runners“. Nuostabi knyga. Gal ne tiek emocionaliai veikianti kaip pirmoji šios serijos knyga (be “runners“), bet gerulė.

Sužinojau, kad yra toks Hash House Harriers – pasaulinė bėgikų organizacija, kuri mėgsta alų ir bėgimą ir prisigalvoja visokių nesąmonių. Pavyzdžiui, paleidžia vieną iš narių naktį su miltų maišu, kuriuos jis turi karts nuo karto barstyti, ir po trijų minučių patys lekia jo gaudyti. Tas, kuris pirmas pagauna, perima miltų maišą ir tampa gaudomuoju. Paguglinau, pasirodo yra ir H3 (trys H raidės organizacijos pavadinime) Vilnius. Deja, bet paskutiniu metu aprimusi organizacija, iš nuotraukų daugiau užsieniečių ir tokių pagyvenusių užsieniečių tipo. Latviai turi irgi savo versiją, ten net pavadinimą mandrą susigalvojo: Beerslayers.

Dar sužinojau, kad JAV yra tokia organizacija Give Running. Kurios idėjinis vadas Greg Woodburn sugalvojo, jog visai nieko būtų padėvėtus bėgimo batelius išvalyti ir atiduoti tiems, kam jų labiau reikia. Šiai dienai jam pavyko gauti apie 15000 porų batų ir juos išdalinti. Kažką panašaus daro ir Share Your Soles, bet jie apskritai batus perdovanoja.

Na, o man rimčiausia buvo viena istorija, kurią jums perrašysiu tiesiog iš knygos. Gausis copyrighto pažeidimas, bet kad mažiau pažeisčiau, tai neskanuosiu ir nefotografuosiu, bet tiesiog perspausdinsiu savo pirštais. Kažkaip tiesiai į dešimtuką ko reikėjo.

Bumps in the Road

Vitality shows in not the ability to persist but the ability to start over. F.S.Fitzgerald

I answered the phone, lost my job, and in one swift, silver-lining moment, realized my recent string of running injuries and lay-offs had been a gift.When my boss called to say the company I’d worked at for twenty years was downsizing and my last check was in the mail, I discovered, as I stood there in the kitchen with the phone to my ear, that I was oddly and confidently prepared to handle this news and, in that instant, saw my running setbacks for what they really were – strengthening exercises. Lessons that could help me navigate the bumps in the road that is my life.
As I listened to my job evaporate, I got it. I suddenly knew what all the effort, discipline and disappointment had been about. “You’ve been an asset,“ said the telephone voice. As the platitude pile grew, so did my epiphany. Those injuries and training heartaches had made me stronger. They’d tested and toughened me, and they’d taught me how to take the long view.
I’d been running a long time. For years I’d go out and do my four miles, often feeling I could go on forever. One day I did, turning in a joy-filled, lactic acid-laden thirteen. I mentioned that outing to my son’s basketball coach, an avid runner. “So, you did a half-marathon,“ he said and, with that m-word, planted a 26-mile seed in my head. Before a week had passed, I was contemplating the possibility of going the whole distance  and visualizing myself in a marathon T-shirt.
I signed up for a fall race and trained hard. Too hard. After a month of living by the training schedule hanging on the fridge, tendinitis got me.
I found out what a physical therapist does and made a mental note to always have one on my holiday card list. I learned the art and science of proper stretching, strengthening and buildup. My therapist healed me fast and got me back out there with seven weeks to go before the race. I’d cross-trained through rehab and maintained a decent level of fitness. With work and a little luck, I could be ready.
On the first run of my resuscitated training program, I fell off a curb and suffered a third-degree ankle sprain that looked like a ripe eggplant. My family iced the elevated lump while I cried.
Before the end of this new layoff, I’d registered for a May marathon. With physical therapy, my ankle healed just in time to start training. A bitter winter set in, but I savored every crystalline run. I used an indoor track on icy days and spent one 20-miler running for three hours in a circle, direction changes the only relief.
Spring came. The long runs turned from frigid tests of will to sun-soaked communions with nature. I was mentally and physically ready. On my last truly long run, three weeks before marathon, my left leg caved in. The physical pain was intense. The emotional pain of knowing it was over, again, was unbearable. I didn’t need the official diagnosis of stress fracture to realize I wouldn’t see the starting line.
When my daughter came from school, she found me, leg propped on pillows, sobbing. Having seen variations on this theme, she knew what it meant and what it meant to me. She hugged me, took my hand, and said, “Don’t worry. There are other marathons. You’ll just try again, right Mommy?“
Perspective is a wonderful thing. My thwarted efforts to make it to a marathon had taught my daughter something about persistence, patience, focus. And faith. The busted leg didn’t hurt so much anymore, and the wounded psyche felt a little hope massaging its sore spots.
I healed and started over. Six months later, I finished my first marathon. While finishing was euphoric, just being there was life-changing.  Toeing that start line was a personal best that will never be trumped. (Paryškinta mano)
Fast forward to my kitchen. Phone in hand, I let my boss finish telling me how sorry he was about the job loss.
But I was already thinking about the future. I knew I’d land on my feet and toe the start line of some new challenge. As there are other marathons, there are other jobs.
The world brims with possibility. Once you’re confident about your potential, there’s no race you can’t run.

Lori Hein


Su bėgimu man didžiausios pamokos buvo savęs pažinimo. Kad aš darau per stipriai ir overdoinu. Ir kad pradžioj priėjimas “easy does it“ yra daug geresnis. O kita – turėti kantrybės. Kaip ir savaitgalį toks Andrius M. sakė, kad geriausią formą pasieksim 5-ais ar 7-ais (tiksliai jau nepamenu) bėgimo karjeros metais. Kiek dar kilometrų nusidriekę prieš akis iki zenito…


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