"Why do we have to climb the mountain?" shouted the leader of a pack of
white-haired citizens geared-up at the Mission Peak trail head. "Because it is
there!" came the roaring answer as I passed them Sunday morning.
Since pacing L at QuickSilver, the yearning had returned and I had been coming
to Mission Peak every weekend. And what a joy to know that running hadn't
forsaken me!
Three steps for the inhale and five the exhale, I entered a meditation state,
paying attention only to matching the strides with breathing. If the lungs felt
pain, especially up steep slopes, I would shorten the steps to make myself
comfortable. As a result, I slowed down but, rather than stopping or switching
to hiking, I jogged on.
Recent education in Jiu-Jitsu raised the awareness and strengthened the idea of
force-emptying the lungs before inhaling. The undefeated champion and jiu-jitsu
master Rickson Gracie first (It is more likely he is the first master in history
to reach a wide audience, thanks to tech.) introduced methodical breathing into
fighting. It came more natural to me on the mat as I had practiced counting
breaths in running, after reading John Douillard's book. Rickson's Aug 2021
autobiography was titled "Breathe: A Life In Flow."
What I discovered on the trail was that forcefully clearing the lungs helped
running, too. Approaching the summit, I would more conciously recruit the
diaphragm and abdominal muscles to breathe. More oxygen made the pain in the legs
and the mind tolerable and kept me going.
This was easy to do until I compared with others. Often, there were a few
runners or fast hikers who started about the same time and made it feel like
racing. There was something in my (or maybe every other human's) nature to be the
first. While a distraction, it was fun to see young, athletic guys get ahead of me
at the start and to reel them in one after another before even reaching the foot
of the summit. There, as two popular trails merged, fast guys from the Standford
Ave side would join in and kick off a new undeclared race to the top. I would
ascend in tiny steps while exhaling like crazy and often take the lead somewhere
before the trail forked into half-a-dozen treacherous paths among the rocks.
It was downhill where I had to be more careful. I would still breathe
three-in-five-out, but the stress was not on the lungs anymore. The sandals
prevented me from taking big strides and I wouldn't race anybody. It was social
time as I exchanged smiles and short greetings with hikers on their way up. It
was good to feel being liked. Reaching the bottom, both the groin and the back
of the right knee felt some pain. I was so thankful, however, for still being
allowed to do it. Hallelujah!
P.S.
It was a great running up MP today (Nov 21) from Stanford Ave side. A slender
youth disappeared ahead before the first major climb and I only met him again when
he came down from the peak while I was finishing the last stretch. He was the
fastest I've seen on MP so far.
I kept my pace and caught up with a pair of husband-wife hikers and chatted with
a father-son duo. The kid was only eight and a half. Great job! Having left
these four behind, I raced no one on the last big slope.
Unlike last Sunday, my right knee didn't hurt after the run. Thank You!
