Friday training break #121

Silence is a bridge between worlds.

– Robert Fripp

Finding the words

I’ve been somewhat short of words lately. Not exactly sure why, but sometimes the words just aren’t there. I’m assuming, however, there are enough other words out there that my current lack of verbage isn’t all that noticeable.

Things are quietly moving forward, without fanfare. Running-wise it was a good week, a solid week, a week without many miles that does not really give evidence of the progress I feel I’m making. Endurance-wise, I feel I’m in surprisingly above-average shape; aerobic-wise, I may be in one of my best cycles of the past few years. The prospect of an approaching 35-40 mile weekend does not, strangely, hold any terrors for me. I feel capable; I am ready. I had no idea I would be attempting that kind of weekend mileage this soon in this year’s training cycle, but the weather is helpful and I feel good, so what the hey.

My Tuesday tempo run is now 4 miles, up from 3.5. I have changed my Thursday hill repeats workout a bit; roughly halving the incline in exchange for a longer “hill.” This seems to be working well.

I’ll take my experience from the last day of my recent sesshin, the experience that involved my father, to dokusan this week. All I can do is present it to my teacher just as I remember it happened. It is still very fresh with me. Reading through several commentaries on the koan “Mu” in four different translations of the Mumonkan or The Gateless Gate, the classic collection of Zen koans, I have felt random, brief reverberations of understanding and empathy, each radiating somehow from my sesshin experience. This is progress of a different sort, something of which I feel very certain and mystified at the same time. That’s why Zen teachers are helpful – a good Zen teacher can be one of the best bullshit detectors around. I’m looking forward to sharing this; I have carried it inside myself long enough.

And even as I read the words of experienced masters commenting on the Mumonkan, and find faint, random echoes of myself in what I read, the words on the pages are only gaudy approximations of my own experience at the sesshin. Somehow when I go to dokusan I’ll have to find my own words, even though I really don’t trust words to relate what happened. Words are often just darts we throw at a dartboard, and yet all too often, they are all we seem to have.

Still, progress in minor steps and random, bewildering increments is still progress. I feel good about running at the moment, hopeful. Where I am in my running and my Zen practice seem to be helpful places at the moment. I’ll take it.

5/5 Rest
5/6 LFC, treadmill, noon. 4-mile tempo @ 7:45 average pace. 6 miles
5/7 LFC, treadmill, noon. Easy does it. 6 miles
5/8 LFC, treadmill, noon. 6 x hill repeats, 6%-7% grade at 7:50 pace for 1:45. 5 miles
5/9 Rest
5/10 Home-White Rock Lake loop, a.m. 14.3 miles
5/11 Neighborhood, a.m. Very easy. Beautiful day. 4.5 miles

Total: 35.8 miles
YTD: 562.1

Friday training break #120

Once when I lost a friend, I realized that I was weeping since my eyes were wet. I was giving a talk at the time, being wise and all that, and it was a revelation — I couldn’t trust myself not to weep in public. I also couldn’t trust myself to sleep at night, either. At a time like that we have to surrender. We are facing something vast and really, we have always known that we would have to face it. It is an enormous, shaggy beast blocking the way. And there is something exhilerating about the inevitable when at last it arrives, awakening is not a choice or a matter of technique anymore; it’s the only place left. The huge animal rolls over us, and suddenly we find that we are riding on its back. It has become a vehicle. The obstacles really have become gates.

– John Tarrant, “Surprises on the Way,” Shambhala Sun May 2008

Back from Austin

For me, the sesshin last week was transformative. I just don’t know exactly how yet.

Nearly 60 Soto Zen practitioners of the Sanbo-Kyodan School, some from as far away as Montreal and Germany, met at The Crossings in Austin, Texas last week for a week-long sesshin, an intensive Zen meditation retreat. Over 40 hours of zazen. Strict silence and avoiding eye contact were observed; if you had an urgent question, you could whisper it to a monitor during a break. The food was very good. The silence was immense. The experience was, in many small and perhaps a few larger ways, life-changing.

I’ve never done a Zen ultra before, unless you count weekend sesshins. And a weekend sesshin is hardly a warm-up for nearly five full days of intense Zen practice. While I was sitting on the morning of the first full day, a bird chirped loudly outside our meditation hall — a bird I normally don’t hear in Dallas. It startled me out of a sullen coma into awareness, and my immediate thought was: Why am I trying so hard? My thumbs were in the mudra position, digging hard into each other, my back and legs were tense to the point of rigidity. And it was then I realized how much I was resenting the sesshin: the rules, the long hours (5:30 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. every day, albeit with a few breaks), not being able to talk or look at other people.

Still nearly four full days to go, and I was already grinding myself into exhaustion through my resentment. I’m just going to sit with you and the wind, I said silently to the bird, and from that moment forward I relaxed a bit and found sitting and listening much easier. Although still, at times, physically very painful.

We went to dokusan (a one-on-one interview) with a honest-to-goodness Japanese Zen Master: Ryoun Yamada Roshi, abbot of the Sanbo Kyodan school and coincidentally head of the Itoki Corporation. I had never thought of a corporate chairman as a Zen Master and head of my Zen school, and yet here he was, quietly inquiring how my practice was going. Sitting with him, I felt as if I were in the presence of someone immensely powerful, yet very gentle at the same time. Just meeting him felt like a life lesson of some sort.

As with an ultramarathon, there were a few dark moments during the sesshin when I really didn’t think I wanted to sit anymore, ever, and there were moments of exhilaration where I seemed to be sitting on a cushion of air and wanted to go on sitting for the rest of my life, rejoicing in the occasional sigh or stomach gurgle or hard swallow. And then on Friday morning, during the very last sit of the entire week, I had a very sudden and powerful experience centered around my father, who died last June. This happened after the last dokusan with Yamada Roshi had been scheduled, so I will have to take the experience back to my teacher in Dallas. There were aftershocks from the experience for the rest of the day Friday, during my run on Saturday morning, and additional milder ripples during my Sunday run. I am still working through it, is all I can say at the moment. We’ll see what my teacher says this Wednesday.

I was able to run during the sesshin – three loops of a forest trail next to the retreat center, Monday-Thursday during the noon lunch break — about four miles daily. It was a perfect little trail: just technical enough to hold your interest, and yet suitably fast enough that you could work up a pretty good head of steam on it. I was grateful to have the additional opportunity to practice each day through a short trail run.

Due to my experience while sitting on Friday morning, I felt somewhat disconnected from the rest of the world on the drive back to Dallas, and an additional experience on my Saturday morning run (related to what had happened on Friday) left me pretty drained by Saturday afternoon. I still had to coordinate our church’s Feed The Homeless ministry Saturday night. Thirty minutes into Sunday morning’s run, I knew my scheduled 26- miler was simply not going to happen. I focused on finishing a solid 16 miles rather than a very ragged 26, had a additional mild aftershock from Friday and Saturday’s meditation experiences during the last part of the run, and dragged myself back home.

I did sit at home on Saturday morning, and I was surprised at how much less effort sitting seemed to take, and how much quicker the time seemed to go. After Sunday’s run, I tried to sit, but kept falling asleep. Finally, I just listened to my body and went to bed.

Quite a week. I feel fortunate to have experienced it.

4/27 – to Austin for sesshin, p.m.
4/28 – Mesa trail, 3 loops. 4 miles.
4/29 – Mesa trail, 3 loops. 4 miles
4/30 – Mesa trail, 3 loops. 4 miles
5/1 – Mesa trail, 3 loops. 4 miles
5/2 – return home from sesshin, pm.
5/3 – cross-country/trails, Norbuck Park, a.m. 8 miles
5/4 – Norbuck Park/White Rock Lake, a.m. 16.7 miles

Total: 40.7 miles
YTD: 526.3

Friday training break #119

It’s all been done. We have marathoners running a marathon in every state, marathoners running a marathon every day for a week, a month, a year. Ultramarathoners running for days or weeks at a time, running across continents and across the poles, people even running marathons in space stations orbiting the earth. Nothing is new under the sun. Except what I’m thinking of doing, because I’m pretty sure not even Dean Karnazes has thought of this. I’m going to run forever.

I don’t mean start running now and not stop forever. That would be impossible. I’m talking about running a little bit today and every day after that, forever. Some people might think this will be impossible, too, but it’s less impossible than whatever the first thing I said is. So I’m going to run every day forever.

I admit it: I don’t have a lot of the logistics worked out yet. The human mortality thing is going to be tough, although I’m cutting out all refined sugars and am standing a little farther away from people who happen to be smoking. I figure that’s going to help, but I’m not so naïve as to think that alone is going to make me live forever. So that will need some extra thought. But back in the Middle Ages, most people were only able to live until their 30s or early 40s. Logically this would tell you that, basically, anything is possible.

Still, every time I start to plan this out, another potential issue comes up. It’s part of what makes running forever so challenging. For instance, I just now thought: running clothes. Is anyone still going to be running even 20 years from now, much less 500,000 or eight million? Will the companies who make running clothes still be in business? Maybe in the next 200 or 2,000 years nudity will become the norm, and people won’t wear clothes at all anymore. Well, except maybe for places that are really cold. I’m not going naked in Wisconsin in the middle of winter, but then I’ve never been to Wisconsin anyway, so not a problem. Can I really run in cotton clothes, or like the guy I see running near my office every morning in a button-down shirt and jeans, pumping his arms up and down like a robot? I really don’t want to look like that, not even in the 30th or 31st century when everyone who knows me will probably be dead.

And when I say, “I’m running forever,” what is “forever”? Is existence finite or infinite? It would be kind of pointless to think, millions of years from now as I’m running through my neighborhood, “Hey, look at me, I’m running forever,” and then the sun and all of the stars explode at once and the universe starts whirling around and gets sucked into some big hole like water going down a drain, and then the hole folds in on itself and there’s nothing left. That would make me feel pretty stupid. All of that running, and it wasn’t even forever. Or was it? Does “forever” end when the universe stops, or does time continue after that? I’m going to need to do some more reading.

How much to run each day? I suppose I could just circle my block and fill the requirement, but that sounds a little like cheating to me. So I’m going to need to come up with some sort of running schedule and stick to it. I can’t run a whole lot in any one day, because then I might be too tired to run the next day. Obviously that would blow the whole deal. And some centuries I’m sure I’ll have to ease up a bit, just to make it to the next century. In fact, as the millenniums go by on the running schedule, I’m going to have to be really careful with the mileage or I’ll wind up being wheeled around on a gurney, which wouldn’t really count in my book. I mean, I want to run forever, but I have to be honest about it or I may as well not do it.

Anyway, I know I need to think about this some more. But with advances in organ and limb transplants and getting the carb-protein balance in my diet worked out, who’s to say I can’t run forever? There is nothing left to do to get attention if you run but that, so it’s probably my only shot at fame. I figure even the fact I’m contemplating doing it is going to get me some notoriety. Running forever, people will say. Wow. And you know, I kind of have to agree with them.

Zen ultra

I just received the schedule for next week’s North American Sanbo Kyodan Sesshin in Austin:

April 27, Sunday
4:00 – 6:00 p.m. Arrival/Registration
6:00 -7:30 Supper
7:30 – 8:00 Welcome/Orientation
8:00 – 9:30 Zazen/Chanting

April 28 – May 1, Monday to Thursday
5:00 a.m. Rise
5:30 – 7:00 Zazen
7:00 – 7:25 Morning Chanting
7:30 – 8:30 Breakfast
8:30 – 9:30 Walk/Break
9:30 – 10:00 Zazen
10:00 – 10:30 Teisho (Talk by Yamada Ryoun Roshi)
10:30 – 12:00 Zazen
12:00 – 1:00 Lunch
1:00 – 2:30 Rest/Walk
2:30 – 3:00 Tea
3:00 – 4:30 Zazen
4:30 – 5:00 Walk
5:00 – 6:00 Zazen
6:00 – 7:30 Supper/Break
7:30 – 9:00 Zazen
9:00 – 9:30 Evening Chanting

May 2, Friday
5:00 a.m. Rise
5:30 – 7:00 Zazen
7:00 – 7:25 Morning Chanting
7:30 – 8:00 Breakfast
8:00 – 9:00 Break/Check out (Bring luggage to Pavilion/ Welcome Center)
9:00 – 9:30 Zazen
9:30 – 10:00 Teisho
10:00 – 11:30 Zazen
11:30 – 12:00 Closing
12:00 – 2:00 Lunch/Breaking the silence

That’s a very tight schedule, but not without rest periods. I expect during the longer rest periods after lunch or supper is when I will attempt to get some running in. If I eat light, I should be able to do it. There are apparently trails on the property; I don’t know about treadmills.

I’ve done a weekend sesshin before, but I’ve never sat for this long in my life, or been silent for this long. This is a bonafide Zen ultra, and I’m feeling out of shape and woefully undertrained. But I’m really looking forward to it. If you happen to check in the week of 4/28, you can look at the schedule above and know exactly what I’m up to (CST).

A 25-mile run on the schedule the morning after I get back — it’s going to be an interesting week. But at least I don’t have to wear the funky Zen pajamas, like the people in the photo above. I’m not a Funky Zen Pajama Guy yet.

Mood swinging

I am really enjoying running lately. I don’t know why it should feel like a chore sometimes, and then be such a joy at others, and then feel as routine as brushing my teeth at still others. But I do try to remember that running is always just that – running. And having run with my moods and sat with them in meditation for years now, perhaps I’m finally beginning to glimpse my moods for what they are: fleeting shadows, phantoms. The moods aren’t real; running and sitting are. And realizing that makes it a little easier to get up on the days I don’t think I feel at all like running or sitting, and makes the days when I can’t wait to lace up my running shoes or sit on my cushion a true gift.

I won’t always have this vaguely dissatisfied feeling, this boredom, this rage, this grief, this joy. But, for now, I can always run, or sit. And as I practice those simple, neutral acts of physical presence, my perspective is realigned and my moods quietly migrate into a smaller, more clearly temporary space in my life. Which is exactly where they were all along. It just took being present with them to realize how small and transitory they really are.

Tuesday Click Pick

Arve Henriksen is a trumpet player from Norway and one of the most original players and composers on the instrument since Miles Davis. His stark playing, often sounding more like a shakuhachi flute than a trumpet, and his eerily beautiful wordless singing, are often combined in minimalist arrangements of unique emotive power. I would suggest starting with Chiaroscuro, his second solo record, and backtrack from there to Sakuteiki, then on to his latest, Strjon. All three are, wonder of wonders, available on iTunes. Henriksen inhabits quieter, darker spaces, and there is a strong meditative quality to nearly all of his solo work.

He also plays with the Norwegian post-jazz improvisational ensemble Supersilent, another strong favorite of mine in recent years. In either context, he is most definitely worth your time. But for a more consistently contemplative side of Henriksen, the three solo works mentioned above are very deep listening indeed.

(photo by Arve Henriksen)

Happy 30th to the odd couple

Last week was a step-back week for my training, which mainly meant a reduced mileage run for Saturday. I had the most wonderful run yesterday at Norbuck Park, the compact slice of nature near our house. I decided to make it a “healing run,” meaning to remain in low gear the entire time, not worry about the stopwatch, and just enjoy myself.

The sky overhead continually surfed from cloudy, to partly cloudy, to mostly clear, with light and shadow rapidly changing as I made my way over the grass and on the trails. Blue periwinkles, buttercups, and a few scattered Indian Paintbrushes and Bluebonnets dotted the green. The sharp ping of baseballs hitting bats and the satisfying thwack of balls hitting mitts echoed from the baseball parks lying just below the hills where I was running. People were walking dogs; two women were riding horses. The air was slightly heavy with impending rain, a promise that looks like it might be kept today. I rested in the slow, steady pacing of my body, the feel of my feet on the trail, as I moved slowly, rhythmically through space.

I remember nearly every step of that six miles — a gift I was ready to receive. And it’s through those runs I am able to reconnect with what drew me to running in the beginning, almost exactly thirty years ago this month.

Happy 30th anniversary to a happy and fulfulling relationship.

I am taking the best of what I feel is in this blog, as well as the best from here and here, and trying to edit and organize it all into a book project on my experiences with running and with Zen, and how each informs the other. I have meant to start this project for a long time, and have had to abandon it twice, but last week I finally decided to dive in with both feet. I’ve been surprised at how quickly it is coming together — in just a week, I’ve managed to edit and organize nearly 40,000 words into something that could be read either as a narrative, or as a sort of brief daily reflections/meditations type of book. 40,000 words is probably pretty short for a book manuscript, but additional editing and organizing will continue this week.

I’m not sure what the market would be for this, or even if there is a market, but I was mostly surprised at how much writing I have squirreled away in the past few years, just writing a blog post every so often. I’ve decided blogs are a very good tool for book projects. Or, even if you don’t get published, I’ve always said writing is cheaper and more fun than therapy.

I don’t know what I’ll do with the manuscript once I’ve completed it. I don’t really have any publishing connections, and I’m well aware of the fate of most book projects. There may be too much Zen for running publishers, and too much running for Zen publishers. I don’t know. I’m not in the business of selling books. But I’m going to try to feel my way with it and just see what, if anything, might happen.

4/14 - Rest
4/15 - LHHS track, a.m. 3 mile tempo run. Strength training, noon. 5 miles
4/16 - UTD campus loop x 2, noon. 6.5 miles
4/17 - Treadmill, noon. Strength training. 6 x “hill” repeats. 4.5 miles
4/18 - Rest
4/19 - Home-White Rock Lake loop, a.m. 14.3 miles
4/20 - Norbuck Park, late p.m. Healing run. 6 miles

Total: 36.3 miles
YTD: 440.6 miles

Friday training break #118

It is said of the bodhisattvas, the liberative saints of Buddhsim, that they could wander around hell as if it were a fairground.

–Ken Jones, The New Social Face of Buddhism