Running Through the Hills of Jerusalem - written on Thursday, 27 March
I finally ran a race in Israel. I'm not sure I was the smartest in picking one, but I figure it actually picked me, so I'm not taking any responsibility for the bad parts... only the good.
Way back in November, I was still planning on running this race today, but then I let myself get out of training mode, and I gave up on the idea.
One day, about four weeks ago, I was running on the dreadmill at work next to a work friend of mine. Afterward, she mentioned she was training for the Jerusalem Half Marathon. I was worried for her, as it didn't seem that she'd be trained in time for it. On the way home that night, my mind couldn't stop calculating.
Could I do it? Could I train safely, without worrying that I was going to injure myself? It's not a good idea to increase mileage more than 10%/week, but when I did the math, I realized it was theoretically possible.
To test my ability to go from dreadmill to blacktop, I ran outside that week for my long run. Sure enough, I was able to do it.
When I wasn't more sore than usual two days later, I registered for the race. To make it even more fun, I decided to raise awareness and money on behalf of the heroic residents of Sderot - those people who live constantly under the fire of rockets.I couldn't participate in the group runs for the charity, because they started before I even finished work... but when I was putting in my mileage, I had the team and the heroes in my mind when things got tough.
I practiced hills -- or so I thought -- on my Friday morning long runs.I'm thinking it's not actually possible to practice these kinds of hills enough to be truly prepared.
They were vicious.
There were looooooong downhills, and then, of course, the uphills seemed three or four times as long as the downs.
But wow. What an amazing, inspiring, and yes, exhausting, day.At the start, I was with my friend. We looked around and were awed by the fact that there were representatives of every kind of Jew, and we were all going to run this race together.
Shortly after the start, my friend took off at her own pace, and I settled into my groove.
The path took us near the Knesset, the Supreme Court, and headed out toward areas I hadn't run before.
As I am not a fast runner, I seemingly had the course to myself for long stretches of time.On one of those stretches, about 1/3 of the way along, I found myself running downhill through the Jerusalem Forest. It was an easy slope, and the view was incredible. There were trees and parks, and I could see the residential areas not far away.
And it suddenly hit me that I was running a race in Eretz Yisrael. I was running on land that G-d gave my people thousands of years ago.
My run took on a serious spiritual aspect at that point. I looked around and was incredibly grateful to Hashem for bringing me to this place, at this time.
I was, to be perfectly honest, a little less grateful when the run started going up hill... and up hill... and up hill... and just when I was thinking it couldn't possibly go up hill any more, I saw words chalked in Hebrew on the road: "Warning: More uphill to come."
Oy.
Step by step, breath by breath, I moved forward. And as I plodded along, wondering about the lack of wisdom I had in deciding to do this silly race, I looked up and realized I was right beneath Yad Vashem.
Yad Vashem - our national museum dedicated to remembering the Shoah (Holocaust) in which more than 6,000,000 of our people were brutally murdered by the Amalek of the time.
And I was upset about running up hills for a little while?
Gee, G-d, nothing like a subtle reminder of the blessings I have, eh?
From that area, the race path started heading through residential areas to the southern end of the city.
The race volunteers and police were AMAZING about stopping traffic for us. Not once did I have to slow down my pace to wait for traffic to stop.There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people whose daily commutes were messed up because of the race. Buses were stopped for long periods of time. People gave up on waiting inside their cars and got out. Some people, understandably, were pretty ticked off at having their schedules thrown off.
Others, amazingly enough, were incredibly supportive. I must have had 100 people, at least, shouting encouragement my way, smiling and cheering me on.
As I was walking along at one point eating my gummies and chocolate, someone I had passed caught up with me and asked if I had extra -- of course I had extra! I gave her some lite salt, too (for the sodium and potassium), and as she was out of water, I gave her the bottle I was carrying (I had another in my fanny pack).
She was really struggling at that point, but within a couple of minutes she took off ahead of me.
The southern end of Jerusalem is where our big mall is, along with our train station.
Once again, I found myself thinking about what a miracle this country is. We're this teensy, tinsy little sliver of land, surrounded by armed enemies... and we have a big o'l, American-style mall in our holiest city.
By this time, I was around 3/4 of the way done with the race physically, and mentally I was 150% done.
I came across the runner I'd given candy to a few kilometers back, and she looked through... done... kaput. I was torn between wanting to stop and walk with her, and needing to keep going so as not to lose my entire rhythm.I admit, I took the low road on that one and just tried to give her a few words of encouragement before going on ahead.
Eventually, I found myself in a familiar area, and I knew I was nearly done. I was hot. I was tired. I was sore. And I was grateful.
I was grateful for having had the courage to do this. I was grateful for my friend mentioning it at just the right time, when I could still decide to do the race. I was grateful to Hashem for allowing me to first visit Israel seven years ago and fall in love with this country. I was grateful to Hashem for surrounding me with family and friends who encouraged me along the way. I was grateful to be running in the holiest city on the planet.
Mostly, though, I was grateful to be almost done. Heh.The sadistic race planners chose a path that was UP HILL for oh, the last mile and a half or so. Even the track itself wasn't flat.
I couldn't summon enough extra energy to sprint the last bit in, but I squared my shoulders, put a smile on my face, and finished at a strong, steady pace.
Then I immediately slowed to a barely-moving-forward walk and tried to get my lungs functioning normally again.
I found my friend -- she'd finished five minutes ahead of me -- and eventually the woman I'd run into on the path wandered over as she finished the race.Somewhere in there, I took the timing chip off my shoe and went to get my medal -- which is on a keychain. Guess which keychain I'll be using from now on?
And after stretching some, and drinking some water, we finally headed for home. I walked slowly, limping occasionally, and I enjoyed the looks I got from people who saw my race number pinned to my shirt.
I think around 10 people finished the race after me, according to the official results. But I was still ahead of the hundreds of thousands of people in Jerusalem who didn't participate at all, so I figure I finished in the top 1%.
It was a very long day... incredibly challenging... incredibly inspiring... but very long.
Yet I'm sort of sad it's almost over.
Thank G-d tomorrow's Shabbos. :)
Way back in November, I was still planning on running this race today, but then I let myself get out of training mode, and I gave up on the idea.
One day, about four weeks ago, I was running on the dreadmill at work next to a work friend of mine. Afterward, she mentioned she was training for the Jerusalem Half Marathon. I was worried for her, as it didn't seem that she'd be trained in time for it. On the way home that night, my mind couldn't stop calculating.
Could I do it? Could I train safely, without worrying that I was going to injure myself? It's not a good idea to increase mileage more than 10%/week, but when I did the math, I realized it was theoretically possible.
To test my ability to go from dreadmill to blacktop, I ran outside that week for my long run. Sure enough, I was able to do it.
When I wasn't more sore than usual two days later, I registered for the race. To make it even more fun, I decided to raise awareness and money on behalf of the heroic residents of Sderot - those people who live constantly under the fire of rockets.I couldn't participate in the group runs for the charity, because they started before I even finished work... but when I was putting in my mileage, I had the team and the heroes in my mind when things got tough.
I practiced hills -- or so I thought -- on my Friday morning long runs.I'm thinking it's not actually possible to practice these kinds of hills enough to be truly prepared.
They were vicious.
There were looooooong downhills, and then, of course, the uphills seemed three or four times as long as the downs.
But wow. What an amazing, inspiring, and yes, exhausting, day.At the start, I was with my friend. We looked around and were awed by the fact that there were representatives of every kind of Jew, and we were all going to run this race together.
Shortly after the start, my friend took off at her own pace, and I settled into my groove.
The path took us near the Knesset, the Supreme Court, and headed out toward areas I hadn't run before.
As I am not a fast runner, I seemingly had the course to myself for long stretches of time.On one of those stretches, about 1/3 of the way along, I found myself running downhill through the Jerusalem Forest. It was an easy slope, and the view was incredible. There were trees and parks, and I could see the residential areas not far away.
And it suddenly hit me that I was running a race in Eretz Yisrael. I was running on land that G-d gave my people thousands of years ago.
My run took on a serious spiritual aspect at that point. I looked around and was incredibly grateful to Hashem for bringing me to this place, at this time.
I was, to be perfectly honest, a little less grateful when the run started going up hill... and up hill... and up hill... and just when I was thinking it couldn't possibly go up hill any more, I saw words chalked in Hebrew on the road: "Warning: More uphill to come."
Oy.
Step by step, breath by breath, I moved forward. And as I plodded along, wondering about the lack of wisdom I had in deciding to do this silly race, I looked up and realized I was right beneath Yad Vashem.
Yad Vashem - our national museum dedicated to remembering the Shoah (Holocaust) in which more than 6,000,000 of our people were brutally murdered by the Amalek of the time.
And I was upset about running up hills for a little while?
Gee, G-d, nothing like a subtle reminder of the blessings I have, eh?
From that area, the race path started heading through residential areas to the southern end of the city.
The race volunteers and police were AMAZING about stopping traffic for us. Not once did I have to slow down my pace to wait for traffic to stop.There were hundreds, if not thousands, of people whose daily commutes were messed up because of the race. Buses were stopped for long periods of time. People gave up on waiting inside their cars and got out. Some people, understandably, were pretty ticked off at having their schedules thrown off.
Others, amazingly enough, were incredibly supportive. I must have had 100 people, at least, shouting encouragement my way, smiling and cheering me on.
As I was walking along at one point eating my gummies and chocolate, someone I had passed caught up with me and asked if I had extra -- of course I had extra! I gave her some lite salt, too (for the sodium and potassium), and as she was out of water, I gave her the bottle I was carrying (I had another in my fanny pack).
She was really struggling at that point, but within a couple of minutes she took off ahead of me.
The southern end of Jerusalem is where our big mall is, along with our train station.
Once again, I found myself thinking about what a miracle this country is. We're this teensy, tinsy little sliver of land, surrounded by armed enemies... and we have a big o'l, American-style mall in our holiest city.
By this time, I was around 3/4 of the way done with the race physically, and mentally I was 150% done.
I came across the runner I'd given candy to a few kilometers back, and she looked through... done... kaput. I was torn between wanting to stop and walk with her, and needing to keep going so as not to lose my entire rhythm.I admit, I took the low road on that one and just tried to give her a few words of encouragement before going on ahead.
Eventually, I found myself in a familiar area, and I knew I was nearly done. I was hot. I was tired. I was sore. And I was grateful.
I was grateful for having had the courage to do this. I was grateful for my friend mentioning it at just the right time, when I could still decide to do the race. I was grateful to Hashem for allowing me to first visit Israel seven years ago and fall in love with this country. I was grateful to Hashem for surrounding me with family and friends who encouraged me along the way. I was grateful to be running in the holiest city on the planet.
Mostly, though, I was grateful to be almost done. Heh.The sadistic race planners chose a path that was UP HILL for oh, the last mile and a half or so. Even the track itself wasn't flat.
I couldn't summon enough extra energy to sprint the last bit in, but I squared my shoulders, put a smile on my face, and finished at a strong, steady pace.
Then I immediately slowed to a barely-moving-forward walk and tried to get my lungs functioning normally again.
I found my friend -- she'd finished five minutes ahead of me -- and eventually the woman I'd run into on the path wandered over as she finished the race.Somewhere in there, I took the timing chip off my shoe and went to get my medal -- which is on a keychain. Guess which keychain I'll be using from now on?
And after stretching some, and drinking some water, we finally headed for home. I walked slowly, limping occasionally, and I enjoyed the looks I got from people who saw my race number pinned to my shirt.
I think around 10 people finished the race after me, according to the official results. But I was still ahead of the hundreds of thousands of people in Jerusalem who didn't participate at all, so I figure I finished in the top 1%.
It was a very long day... incredibly challenging... incredibly inspiring... but very long.
Yet I'm sort of sad it's almost over.
Thank G-d tomorrow's Shabbos. :)
posted by M at 07:26
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