Running Against the Wind

Ever since I could remember I've disliked the wind blowing on me, and that dislike climbs to near rage when I'm running. In fact the wind is basically the only excuse I use to head inside, opting to use a treadmill; but even then the strong fans in the gym can irk me. The constant sensation of fighting to move forward, being held back and pushed around, while my hair flies about my face and into my mouth does my head in. It seems ridiculous, but on certain days when it feels like it slows my already tortoise pace to a mere crawl, it's enough to inspire a full-on pity party and the only things that power me through are blind rage and stubbornness. It's even bad enough that I actually fear high winds on Saturday's when I do my long training runs. I do it anyway of course, but I typically need to mentally prepare myself for 'the blow.' (Pun!)

Despite hating the wind I've lived in the notoriously windy state of Kansas, Palmerston North which is likewise known for its wind and even has windmill farms to capture its energy, and now I live in Taranaki where the term 'breezy' basically means 'will turn an umbrella inside out, but won't strip someone of their clothing.' Makes me wonder if I haven't subconsciously chosen windy environments to challenge myself.....

This morning was an easy 8k recovery after yesterday's 29k long distance run, and when I left home the wind was eerily calm. Knowing that Hawera can get windy astonishingly fast, and with my route in mind, I wanted to ensure that the two longer legs would be with and not against the wind should it kick up. I did the intelligent thing and looked up the direction of the wind on my phone, 6 kmph NNE, barely a whisper. After a quick assessment in my head I decided which way to start my loop and set out. 

Guess what? My intelligent assessment turned out to be completely backwards; NNE doesn't mean it's blowing TO the north, it means it's blowing FROM the north. I would've realised this if I had bothered to step outside and actually felt which way the wind was heading instead of making my super smart decision whilst sitting in my car. When I turned to head north along my longest stretch, there it was feeling more like a roar than a whisper; the usual aggravation gaining momentum. This time I paused my reaction however and thought, 'well, I'm not going to stop so I might as well have a think about the bright side of the situation.' 

Here's what I came up with:

• My 'duh!' moment made me laugh; I frequently over-analyse situations only to find I've landed on the wrong conclusion. For a smart person, I often do phenomenally stupid shit.
• The direction I took may have put me face-first into the wind, but it also kept the sun out of my eyes so I could see the path in front of me without burning my retinas.
• It helped keep me cool on a very warm day.
• I envisioned the wind and I clashing together and combining to form a tornado as we moved in opposite directions. Creating something powerful with the energy I put into moving forward raised my spirits.
• Though it felt strong, the wind was hardly blowing at all. This lead to an overarching acknowledgement that I tend to 'blow' things out of proportion (Boom! I'm on a roll!). I hate being hindered in my efforts in general, though slowing down typically prevents me from making a fool of myself in the long run. I could go even further down that rabbit hole, but that would end up being it's own article!
• Despite the weather conditions, length of the run or how skeptical I feel about my body's ability to finish, I remember that so long as I take one step at a time I'll reach my goal. I'm grateful that I have the inner determination and drive to keep going. Sometimes it comes from self-empowerment and other times rage directed at an invisible nemesis I can't control. Either way, I keep moving forward and that inspires pride.
• I spent so much time in my head creating this inane essay that before I knew it I had run the length of the road, turning in an different direction and out of the wind. I even missed it a bit.

Oh, I do love puns!

As I faced a fairly gnarly headwind during most of my 32km run this morning, a couple of more points came to me:

• I heard the wind as soon as I awoke and the idea of attempting my longest training run ever in it did not excite me to say the least. I began to worry about my ability to complete the run, but I was determined to set a new personal record and knew I had to give it a go anyway wind or no wind. This showed me how resilient I am and helped me to realise that fear necessitates bravery, and in a similar way mistakes necessitate adventure. What would be the fun in an easy life without challenges?
• The wind reminds me to slow down and keep a sustainable pace. Instead of seeing it as impeding me, I see that it's only serving to help me in it's own annoying way.
• Take each gust as it comes; staying pissed at a gust that held me back or worrying about future gusts that will challenge me is pointless, I can't control it so I shouldn't fight it (though this is easier said than done!).
• Despite the wind, I smashed it and hit my personal best for distance ever! 

All that just to come to this point; the wind is the physical manifestation of my own emotional issues. My reaction to the wind largely depends on my inner emotional state; some days I resign myself to it, other days I fight it, or run with it in beautiful harmony, and sometimes it breaks me and I end up in tears. Though this is a true account of what happened, I see how the wind also functions as a significant metaphor in my life. As humans we often feel like we're pushing shit uphill, running against the wind; the struggle is real. We all have triggers that push our buttons, and we may or may not understand why. A simple situation, a wisp of wind, can cause a torrent of emotions to erupt. 

It seems so silly that I would be so easily enraged by an act of nature that I can't control, but that's precisely why it bugs the hell out of me. The wind pushes me around and slows me down, it controls me. Historically I've fought against being controlled with every fibre of my being, opting to vehemently fight for control. It took me years of self-development work to discover that my obsession with control was a coping mechanism for feeling insecure, as well as a lack of trust in life in general. Deep shit, wounds from my past that never fully healed. So some days my emotions are stable, the woulds have scabbed over and are partially concealed so I can cope. Other days those scabs have been ripped off for any number of reasons and I cannot; turning the wisp into a gale that knocks me for a six.

Today I proved to myself that I can change my old habit of resisting control and fighting the wind. However foreign it may feel, I can consciously choose to challenge myself, to find gratitude in a situation where I would typically feel angry or victimised by a lack of control. Life is full of such opportunities. It takes courage, but we can all run into the wind.