12 miles in Paradise

Today I ran the farthest I've ever run in my life -- 12 miles. I'd like to report that it was all fun and games, a total breeze, a walk in the park! Unfortunately, it was none of the above.

In an earlier post, I claimed that running gets so much easier with time. I stated that, once in shape, running “is like as watching a beautiful sunset on a beach." I thought of this today, as I trudged along the evanescent white sands beach of Siesta Key, Florida.

Planning my trip to Florida for the holidays, I was beyond excited that one of my long distance runs coincided with this vacation. My current hometown of Washington DC was recently creamed by a monster snowstorm (the biggest storm to ever hit our nation's capital in the month of December).

Although DC is a very clean city, snow clean-up is not its specialty. Leaving DC a few days ago, half the streets appeared never to have been touched by a plow -- nevermind the sidewalk situation. Thus, with my usual stomping grounds in treacherous condition, a mild Florida afternoon in the low-70’s never felt so good.

Siesta Key Beach is almost exactly three miles long, thus two round-trips made for 12 miles even. There was an over-eager bounce in my step as I took off down the beach; the initial thrill of training for my first marathon definitely hasn’t worn off yet. I’m scheduled to run a long distance once every two weeks and I look forward to each like its Christmas. Starting today, every long run will continue to be “the farthest I’ve ever run.” Thus, I treat these longer distances as minor lifetime-achievements and license to eat whatever I want.

When I run outdoors, I tend to keep my eyes on the ground. The beach was very peaceful today -- the pearly sand interwoven with an assortment of broken shells and sea-sponges. I tried to remember to look up more and take in my spectacular surroundings. I played my music at half-volume so as to simultaneously hear the waves crashing at my side. I watched pelicans perched on the water, quickly swooping up and then back down again, hoping to catch a pray.

A large majority of the other beachcombers meant nothing to me, only obstacles to navigate around. However, a few miles in, I happened to notice a girl in a skimpy sundress running a few feet in front of me. She was barefoot and wearing a bikini under her dress. We were practically going the same pace, yet, given her lack of proper athletic gear, I felt compelled to leave her in the dust. This childish feat bumped the middle-section of my run into a respectable pace.

However, towards the end of my run, things got fuzzy. My knees ached and streams of salty sweat stung in my eyes. I slowly became aware that people were standing at the edge of the shore, pointing and taking pictures. My eyes glazed over the tops of the waves, wondering what was everyone looking at? And then I saw it – a dolphin fin rising out of the turquoise water, not 20 feet from the shore. In my last mile and a half, I saw three different dolphins. With dolphins diving along my side as I finished my run, this truly was paradise.

Yet, it didn’t feel like paradise at all. I gasped for air, counting down high-rise hotels and lifeguard stands until reaching my final resting spot.

Now, I’m not so sure that running will ever be the sunset on the beach that I once predicted. Yet, crazy as it sounds, I’m already looking forward to the next "longest run" of my lifetime, a 14-miler, to be run in the new year in frosty Washington DC.

Happy Holidays from Florida!

R.E.M. -- the dream sleep, not the band.

Although I am very fond of the song, “Night Swimming,” the title of my blog is by no means a dedication to R.E.M., the band. Sorry for any confusion. So, if you want to know what R.E.M. stands for in the title of my blog, this is the post for you! However, if you’re curious why the alternative-rock band chose this name, well... what the heck, I'll answer that question as well. 

Both are a reference to R.E.M. sleep, the rapid eye movement phase of the sleep cycle. REM sleep is the unique period of sleep when we dream. You dream, I dream, we all dream. Although you may not remember your dreams, rest assure, it’s happening… Every night. Multiple times. In fact, over the course of an average lifetime, one will spend a total of five years dreaming.

For people with narcolepsy, this dream phase of sleep takes on particular significance. It is believed that some, if not all, of the symptoms of narcolepsy are caused by a disassociation of this REM/dream sleep. In other words, for people with narcolepsy, aspects of REM sleep are triggered at inappropriate times during the sleep/wake cycle. For now, I will leave it at that. However, I promise to provide a more in-depth description of the fascinating connection between narcolepsy and dreaming in a later blog post.

Second, R.E.M., the band. According to good authority (Wikipedia), after considering such names as “Twisted Kites” and “Cans of Piss,” the lead singer chose “R.E.M.” at random out of a dictionary. Although the symbolism behind this decision is slightly disappointing, I appreciate the honesty.

Also, in the spirit of honesty, I must admit that I did not come up with “REM Runner” on my own either. Big thanks to one of my best friends, Julia, for helping me come up with this witty name for my blog!