Late last summer and early fall, as my vegetable and flower gardens produced their bounty, I worked to collect seeds. The practice of saving seeds has not been a foreign concept to me, but certainly not something that I have done before. I had the time and the process seemed closer to home and closer to nature’s way than zipping down to the local garden store for packaged seeds, so I took the time and did the work. Saving seeds from some plants took more time and effort than others, nonetheless it allowed for a further understanding of the vegetables that I was growing and a better appreciation of the distinct growth phases that occur while moving seed to maturation.
So now, despite the snow blanketing the hard ground outside my window, it is time to start this year’s cycle. I gather my collection of small 2 ½-x-3 ¼-inch manila envelopes and four-ounce mason jars that are holding the harvested seeds from last year. Just hearing their movement in their packaging elevates my excitement for this summer. I prep the seed trays with seed-starter soil and then label the rows so to not lose track of what seed was planted where. I carefully pour the seeds from the envelope labeled ‘Capsicum annuum’ into my concave hand. I can feel my eyes gleam with awe, as if I am watching little bits of gold fall directly into my hand. I mutter “Capsicum annuum” to myself. I must have been feeling scholarly last fall, I think. Luckily, I also made note that these are the seeds of my bell-pepper plants whose fruits ripen from green to brown. I count out 10 seeds and then return the remainder of my riches into the envelope. I tuck each seed into some soil and continue on with to next seed packet, “Solanum lycopersicum.” I hear the furnace kick on and automatically go to check the wood stove to make sure it doesn’t need attention. All in all, it seems counterintuitive to be planting seeds now. Questioning myself, I once again I check my math to make sure my timing for transplanting, what will be hearty seedlings in 70 days, into the outdoor soil is correct.
This counting of days and planting of seeds reminds me a lot of my training. This year, the seed that I have planted in my mind and allowed to germinate is returning to the UTMB. Over the past several months of training, I have worked on my aerobic foundation and formed the roots that I will need to be successful later on in the season. A couple weekends ago, I ran the Georgia Death Race as a training race, where I felt like I pushed through the surface and unfurled my first leaves. I am ready for further growth, yet I feel that this is a time, where like a seedling, I can be vulnerable. I need to remind myself that each phase is not mutually exclusive, especially now that the GDR race has given me a taste of the sunlight. I acknowledge that I need patience and persistence to further develop before flowering and exposing the true fruits of my labor.
Perhaps the comparison is corny, but in the moment it seems to make perfect sense to me. This activity of planting my harvested seeds has reminded me that like the growing of fruits and vegetables, my training takes time, thought, and patience. It also requires nourishment and care, and if rushed can be more susceptible to mishap. As I navigate my way through each training phase, my hope is that I can appreciate and respect the process from start to finish so that the end product is as bountiful as I envision in my mind during this early portion of the cycle.
Call for Comments (from Meghan)
- What seeds are you planting, metaphorically or literally, in your life and running right now?
- In this age where instant progress and results are rewarded, do you find particular challenge in lengthy life and running processes–like a long training bout before a goal race, navigating an extended relationship issue, or working long term toward career goals?
- How do you sort out the dueling desires of instant gratification with the rewards that take time to obtain?
Photo: Aliza Lapierre
