Portland, in Focus

I told myself I would just post here occasionally.  It didn't need to be perfect. It didn't have to be long.  I didn't have to talk about every detail of everything… I needed focus.

It's really all about focus.

So my post about a recent trip to Portland isn't going to be everything I want it to be.  I could talk about all the food (especially Petunia's Pies and Pastries - gluten free and vegan! I ate way too many donuts...), or the beer and cider, which I could actually drink.  I could talk about exploring a new city that felt way more comfortable than most cities I visit. I could talk about friends (it was so great to see Ryan!) And family (I'm so lucky to get to travel with Holly, John, and Shane. AND to see a great aunt who I hadn’t seen in twenty years.)

But words are hard.  Conveying emotion and communicating experiences is hard.  I'm tired of hard. So you get two short stories that don't really have a lot to do with Portland, or the people I traveled with for that matter (sorry, they are all great!) 

The Marathon

I chose to race in the Portland Marathon in lieu of any other city, in part, because of Ryan, a good friend who Kit and I had been wanting to visit.  This scenario had the added advantage of allowing Kit and Ryan to hang out together while I ran for 5 hours straight. I am aware that running is not exactly the most exciting spectator sport. 

Holly decided to run the Portland half marathon, and it was really nice having my sister there at the race with me.  She had already run a marathon and I am not sure that she has the desire to ever run a second. Plus, with a baby under two, who has time to train?  So, she selected the half marathon distance. I asked Holly if she had a time goal for the half, and she said “over two hours”. Upon clarification, this meant she assumed she’d be well over two hours and wasn’t going to stress about it.  While that is a good mindset to have, this woman ran it in 1 hour and 56 minutes, which I couldn’t do if I trained my ass off. I know this because I trained my ass off for a half marathon four months ago, and I did not run it that fast. But I did fall in love with running in the process!

I didn't expect that to happen.  I definitely did not expect to run a marathon this year, or ever. I had tried many times previously to get into running but it never stuck.  I had enjoyed running well enough, but it was generally something I did because it was accessible, and because it was necessary for triathlons.  But this year, I ran. A lot. I got hooked, for a variety of reasons that I will happily unpack another time, but it all culminates here, at the marathon. 

Before

After

Races and similar physically challenging feats never quite go as planned: I was really stressed about what to wear, since Portland weather is not the same as Colorado; I didn't have my normal diet since I was travelling, so my stomach was off; getting pre-race coffee turned into a fiasco; my Bluetooth headphones died halfway in.  Nothing major went wrong, though. At least nothing like The Great Boulder Ironman 70.3 Debacle of 2017.  

And I didn't hit a wall. I slowed down, yes, around mile 21, because my legs were feeling a bit collapse-y and I wanted to make sure I could finish.  I never wanted to give up though, not once. I never thought that I couldn't do it. I finished with my fastest mile of the race, drawn forward by the knowledge that I am capable of pushing my boundaries. 

Of course, crossing the finish line also meant I could, for the love of god, stop running, which was pretty compelling too.

Best Spectator (just kidding, he had no idea what was going on.)

Portland Half and Full Marathons Finished!

The Coast

The day after the race, we didn’t fly out until 8:00 PM, due to a 60 dollar flight available on Southwest.  When Ryan mentioned the beach as an activity, I immediately expressed interest.  So, he drove Kit and I out there for the day.  It was almost exactly as I remembered it. It’s not precisely…pleasant. One can’t exactly settle down and relax, at least not on a chilly October day. And yet there is something very peaceful and perfect about the coast. The sound of seagulls and waves dampens the noise of people, and one is left surrounded by thick, foggy air.

I used to be enamored of this place; some of my favorite memories of my youth were family vacations to the Oregon coast. The dense misty air, the sound of waves shattering against the smooth sheet of sand, the bone-chilling wind flecked with salt and sand....(what’s not to love?) I thought that maybe the allure would be lost on me now, but I was wrong. My memories, whether true or not, are too strong to be overcome by the bitterness of adulthood. 

I also think the only fitting way to capture my short return to the coast is with this photo. While I was standing in front of the waves, tightening my hood around my ears, I see this little girl sprinting, ecstatic, into the surf. Her parents call her back, but she’s staying put, gleefully splashing her toes into the frigid water as her hair whips around her face. I want to be this girl again, drawn to the waves despite the cold.

In fact, I did let the waves wash over my Chaco’d toes, though I was questioning my decision afterwards as I sloshed back up the beachfront roads to lunch. But I love the water; I always have, and I always will. I don’t know why. I hate being cold and wet; I get motion sick, so floating on top isn’t often great for me either; The ocean is vast and unknown, two words that twist at my anxious little mind. But here I am, waxing poetic about it all the same.

I guess I just like pushing my boundaries sometimes.

Love,

April

Song of the Day: The Living by San Fermin