It's a sad day for me because this morning I had to admit my mortality and withdrawl from the Bandera 50K race. I've been struggling with feet and ankle pains for several weeks, and although I got lucky and slipped through Sunmart, it's obvious to me now that I need some time off. I had a few mediocre runs up north during my Christmas break, mostly focusing on big hills and a slow pace, but my feet hurt after only a few miles. I did have a wonderful (yet painful) run through some back roads in Lexington Kentucky that easily ends up in my top 5 favorite runs of all time. The course I did was out and back down an empty road, along a small creek, and dodging stray dogs. The "rolling hills" were more like mountains for this Texas runner, but the views were magnificent. My feet were killing me the whole way, but I enjoyed the run and the air and the views so much that I just kept going. I only knew to turn around when a hundred-pound St. Bernard told me that I should. When I got back to my car I was limping noticably, but it was exhilarating.
How did I find this great running road? My father-in-law is a new home builder in Lexington, and he is building a new house on a 2-acre lot in a new empty neighborhood. Lexington is filled with these places, it's great! Anyways, I spent the day "volunteering" my services, painting the house for him. After a 10-hour day of hard labor, as everyone else packed up and wobbled home, I strapped on my running shoes. Your should have seen their faces.
After this, I took a few more days off and this morning decided I would go for a run and make a final decision on my readiness for Bandera. 1 mile into a St. Ed's run I had a terrible pain in my right foot. I headed down a fairly steep decline, over-focusing on my foot, and ended up twisting my ankle pretty badly. I turned around, limped home, and sent an email to Joe (the Bandera race director) that I would be volunteering for Bandera. This was the only way I knew to force myself not to run in the race. I had already paid the 50 bucks for race entry, and knew I'd show up ready to run otherwise.
I'm frustrated that the healing process has taken so long, yet grateful because I'm now realizing what a blessing it was that I was able to run Sunmart despite this nagging injury. That was my real goal this season, and I'm lucky and grateful that I was able to finish it. I spoke breifly in a previous post that running (and suffering) could teach humility. I knew it was true, yet wondered how I could explain it. It has now become clear to me. Running great distances brings the human body to great pains, and sometimes pushes it's capabilities. Many endurance runners start out thinking that they can "beat" this, that they can reach any limit. I'm not trying to take the romance out of this, I still believe the human body can acheive great things, but these things take preparation and training. There are limits, and recognizing that is very humbling. One might think that accomplishing huge goals like a marathon, 50-miler, or 100-miler would inflate the ego, but I have found it does quite the opposite. It make me recognize my limits, understand my abilities (and push to new limits), and appreciate the blessings I have with my good health and supportive family and friends. I could not acheive my goals without each of these, and during an injury like right now, I realize that any of this could be taken away from me at any moment. It is this reason that I have to get out there and take advantage of every moment, because every second counts.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Saturday, December 17, 2005
The Joy Of Suffering
"If you suffer, thank God! -- it is a sure sign that you are alive."
- Elbert Hubbard
Yesterday I went out for a 16 miler with my friend, Jim. I'd felt pretty much recovered from my 50 mile run last weekend, so I told Jim that I would go out with him for 16 miles as part of his Freescale marathon preparation. It was to be his longest run ever, although not by much. For me it would be a different challenge since I knew I couldn't be fully recovered yet from last weekend.
The run started off OK, except that my left achilles was hurting. I had faith that the pain would subside, so as usual I ran through it. I was right that the pain would subside, but I had no idea what was coming next. It began small, just a slight discomfort on the outside arch of my left foot. We got off of the roads and onto a trail, and the pain eased. But soon we were forced off of the trail again and this time the pain got much worse. Soon I couldn't run at all. I'm not exxagerating at all when I say that I could barely walk. My original intentions were to support my friend on his run, now I was just hoping not to slow him down. So I told him to go off and finish his run alone, and I would see him back at his house. I was 3 miles away from his place, and my car. So I started limping home.
An hour later, and still a half mile from my car, I began wondering why I was doing this. Not why I was struggling through this today, but why do I put myself in the position to suffer such great pain when I could easily be at home in bed, or at least sitting at home with my wife and watching SportsCenter.
It's something I come to think about a lot on long runs, especially when physical pains linger and mental challenges mount. It's a question that I need to answer before I can continue this journey.
We're conditioned at an early age that happiness is good, while suffering is bad. Physical pleasures are to be strived for and rewarded, while pain is to be avoided. But why is that?
The person we become is a result of our experiences in life. Our consciousness is a combination of the joyful experiences as well as our sufferings. To avoid either one of these facets of our development is to avoid gaining true consciousness. Suffering breeds experiences that nothing else can replace. It is as essential as any other factor in our development. It teaches temperance, patience, appreciation, modesty and humility. These are attributes of my character that have never been very strong, so perhaps that's why this is so important to me. Think about these attributes... Every one of them is an enviable characteristic, and everyone of them is enhanced through suffering. I hope to have time to come back to this soon and explain my reasoning, but not tonight.
I'll touch on one of them now, appreciation. Just as a trust-fund baby will never be as rich as a man who saved every dime until his retirement, a man who never feels pain can never experience the true physical pleasures in life.
When I get home after a long day at work and a tough workout, I am physically and mentally drained. My body aches and my mind is exhausted. But I shower and lay down in bed and the greatest sensation rushes through me because I have tasted the sour, and now I get to savor the sweet.
So this is why I run, why I run farther than most people think I should, through injury, poor weather, over hills and rocky terrain. It is not a quest for suffering, rather a quest for consicousness. My goal is not to find suffering, nor to avoid it. It is to experience life, whatever that may be.
- Elbert Hubbard
Yesterday I went out for a 16 miler with my friend, Jim. I'd felt pretty much recovered from my 50 mile run last weekend, so I told Jim that I would go out with him for 16 miles as part of his Freescale marathon preparation. It was to be his longest run ever, although not by much. For me it would be a different challenge since I knew I couldn't be fully recovered yet from last weekend.
The run started off OK, except that my left achilles was hurting. I had faith that the pain would subside, so as usual I ran through it. I was right that the pain would subside, but I had no idea what was coming next. It began small, just a slight discomfort on the outside arch of my left foot. We got off of the roads and onto a trail, and the pain eased. But soon we were forced off of the trail again and this time the pain got much worse. Soon I couldn't run at all. I'm not exxagerating at all when I say that I could barely walk. My original intentions were to support my friend on his run, now I was just hoping not to slow him down. So I told him to go off and finish his run alone, and I would see him back at his house. I was 3 miles away from his place, and my car. So I started limping home.
An hour later, and still a half mile from my car, I began wondering why I was doing this. Not why I was struggling through this today, but why do I put myself in the position to suffer such great pain when I could easily be at home in bed, or at least sitting at home with my wife and watching SportsCenter.
It's something I come to think about a lot on long runs, especially when physical pains linger and mental challenges mount. It's a question that I need to answer before I can continue this journey.
We're conditioned at an early age that happiness is good, while suffering is bad. Physical pleasures are to be strived for and rewarded, while pain is to be avoided. But why is that?
The person we become is a result of our experiences in life. Our consciousness is a combination of the joyful experiences as well as our sufferings. To avoid either one of these facets of our development is to avoid gaining true consciousness. Suffering breeds experiences that nothing else can replace. It is as essential as any other factor in our development. It teaches temperance, patience, appreciation, modesty and humility. These are attributes of my character that have never been very strong, so perhaps that's why this is so important to me. Think about these attributes... Every one of them is an enviable characteristic, and everyone of them is enhanced through suffering. I hope to have time to come back to this soon and explain my reasoning, but not tonight.
I'll touch on one of them now, appreciation. Just as a trust-fund baby will never be as rich as a man who saved every dime until his retirement, a man who never feels pain can never experience the true physical pleasures in life.
When I get home after a long day at work and a tough workout, I am physically and mentally drained. My body aches and my mind is exhausted. But I shower and lay down in bed and the greatest sensation rushes through me because I have tasted the sour, and now I get to savor the sweet.
So this is why I run, why I run farther than most people think I should, through injury, poor weather, over hills and rocky terrain. It is not a quest for suffering, rather a quest for consicousness. My goal is not to find suffering, nor to avoid it. It is to experience life, whatever that may be.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
The parallels of running and life
I got a message from a running friend, Dano, who had an interesting outlook on the parallels of a good, long trail run and real life. I hope he doesn't mind me sharing this, but I thought it was great insight on trail runs, but also our journeys in life.
We were sharing our war stories of the weekends trail race (like my previous post on the Sunmart 50 miler). Many people had similar stories to tell about the pain, the perserverence, and most importantly the fun we had sharing some time with other trail running friends. Here was Dano's take on the adventure:
reminded me of how it seems one of the many lessons for dano over the last year of running has been how much running parallels "real life" - whatever that means. 'specially trails. it dawned on me while reading our band's collection of stories from this weekend. no rocket science here, but it seems like in life, like on the long trail - you never know who you are going to meet up with - you never know how long the company is going to last - and you never know how either one of you is going to react to (or even make it through) what is waiting around the next bend. the best thing that you can do is to enjoy the current moment. nothing else really matters. the past, not a dang thing you can do - you can't take back a fall or an ankle roll. the future, won't come the way you expect it - it will be a surprise - no matter what. so that leaves the moment - this moment.
We were sharing our war stories of the weekends trail race (like my previous post on the Sunmart 50 miler). Many people had similar stories to tell about the pain, the perserverence, and most importantly the fun we had sharing some time with other trail running friends. Here was Dano's take on the adventure:
Monday, December 12, 2005
Sunmart - My first 50 miler
I woke up Friday morning and quickly stretched out my feet to see if they felt any better. Negative. It was the day before my first 50 mile race and my feet still hurt. I injured them 3 weeks ealier during the Warda Cardiac Run, and have been off the trails for 2 weeks trying to let them heal. Two weeks rest obviously didn't work and at that moment I realized that it didn't matter anymore. I was going to Huntville, I would toe the line, and I would run the race. The freezing weather, the aching feet, and the intense butterflies were just nuisances now, but they were not enough to stop me from acheiving what I had set out to do in August.
My wife, Kara, and I got in the car around 11am, and we drove to a friends house to drop off our dog. We dropped her off and headed out 290 to Houston for packet pick-up. I was anxious to just get through Houston before traffic picked up so that we could get to our hotel and settle down before dinner. I had this glorious plan of getting to bed early that night, which obviously was not thought out very well. Packet pickup was amazing. I couldn't believe how much stuff they gave us. But my rule for these races is that I don't look at or enjoy the gifts until after I have completed the race. There are people that will take out the free shirt and wear it that day, or during the race, but I just won't have it. The shirt and everything else stays in the bag until I finish the race. I have to feel like I earned the rewards. So Kara and I tossed the bag of goodies in the trunk and headed for Huntsville.
Once we got to the hotel we quickly unpacked and headed to Chile's for some pre-race dinner. I had the Cajun Chicken Pasta. Not because it looked good to me, or because I thought I needed to carbo-load, but because this is what I ate (at the same restaurant) the night before Rocky Raccoon. I'm very superstitious, so I didn't want to change anything. I would have asked to sit at the same table if I thought that my wife wouldn't smack me for doing so. After dinner we were walking to the car and it was so cold. The wind blew right through my jacket and I shivered. I don't know if it was because of the cold or because of my nerves, but that's when I lost all confidence. I thought about the cold weather, and my aching feet, and the 10 hours I was getting ready to run, and I told Kara, "Tomorrow is going to suck... Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life." It sounds comical and melodramatic now, but when I said it there was no doubt in my mind that I was speaking the truth. She brushed it off, knowing I was my usual nervous wreck, and we went back to the hotel for some sleep. I stayed up way too late watching re-runs of the Curb Your Enthusiasm before I finially nodded off into a shallow slumber.
The race started at 7am. I lined up in the back of the pack, heeding Sisson's advice to start slowly, and just settled into a slow waddle for the first few miles. It was really slow. I'm pretty sure I could walk faster and before too long I finally got fed up and started passing people. It didn't surpise me, this is how I do every race. There is an old buddhist saying that guides a lot of what I do. It says, "If you are going to cook, cook." It means that if you are going to do something, do it with everything you've got. Don't compromise anything. And for me, on this day, I was going to run. So I ran. I stepped out of the single file line, and I took off. I know it wasn't the most strategic move, and I probably wasted precious energy, but for me it was mental and I knew I had to feed my pride. At the long lonely out-and-back I saw JT. I was at least 10 minutes back from him and I figured the next time I saw him it would be 9 hours later and he'd be drinking a beer in the tent. I knew he had set a goal of 8 hours on this race and hoped he would make it. Next I saw Joe P and he was just like you'd expect, flying down the trail and catching up with an old friend. I waved and kept on down the trail to the turn-around. I hate that out-and-back and just tried to get through it as quickly as possible, knowing I'd do it 3 more times. The rest of the loop was uneventful. I got to the end of the first loop, waved to some spectators, chugged a Slimfast, and headed out for the next loop feeling good.
The second loop was more of the same. I saw a few people I knew, said hello and kept running at a solid 10:30 pace. When I reached the halfway point, I was right on pace for a 9 hour finish time. I was running great, but knew I wouldn't finish this strong. But my pace felt calibrated now, and figured I could venture a guess of 9:30 for a finish time. I was at 4:30, so I could run the second half 30 minutes slower. I told Kara that I was gonna slow down the third loop and save some energy for my "finishing kick." By this time I had a blister on my right foot that was starting to really hurt, but I didn't want to take off my shoe and treat it. Partially because I didn't want to sit around taking care of it, but mostly because I didn't want to know how bad it was. So I slammed another Slimfast and headed out for the second half.
I was right about slowing down for the third loop. At first I was taking scheduled walking breaks every 10 minutes (or when I reached some of the bigger hills), but soon my walking breaks became more frequent. I'd catch myself walking when I didn't even realize that I had stopped running. When I did start running, it was little more than a waddle. All this training, all the advice from Steve, Joe and the other veterans, and now it was out the window. Now I just needed to suck it up and run. I ate where I could, but the only thing I could take down was boiled potatoes. So I ate a lot of them. At the out-and-back I saw Jennifer and then Dano. They both looked tired, but healthy. I knew they were going to finish and I was happy for them. It gave me a little energy to see some familar faces and I probably got a good 15 minute jog in before I was tired again. Around mile 35 my blister became unbearable. I found a park bench and sat down. I quickly took off my shoe and sock, popped the blister with my fingernail, cleaned off some of the sand from my foot, and laced back up. Believe it or not, the blister never bothered me again. I stumbled to the end of the third loop, and past the HCTR tent trying to look better than I felt. I saw Joe there getting ready to head out for his last loop. I saw Claire and found out she took second in her age group which is great! And I saw my poor wife still sitting in the cold weather, out there to support me like always.
I sat down for a second and drank my last Slimfast for the day. Just then I heard Joe ask me if I'm gonna head out. He's ready to go and I'm not sure whether I am or not. But this was my chance to run with a legend and so I didn't waste any time. I jumped out of my seat, said goodbye to Kara, and I took off behind Joe. He was running a solid pace out of the starting gate and I quickly decided I wouldn't stay with him for very long. It was nice to run with him, he had taught me so much in the past few months whether he realized it or not, but it would be dumb to try to keep up with him. But I hung with him for awhile and struck up some conversation. We walked the uphills, but ran a good pace on the flats and downhills. We talked about some runs and nutrition and some other things, and the next thing I knew we were 5 miles into the loop and I felt better at that moment than I did during the first loop. My blood was pumping, the adreneline was flowing, I was a well-oiled machine after 42 miles. Before long I was confident again and I realized for the first time that I was going to make it to the finish line. There was nothing now that could stop me. Joe kept saying that I should go ahead without him if I was ready but I knew I wasn't yet. The time would come where I would give it that "finishing kick" I referred to earlier, but it wasn't time yet. Around 45 miles Joe told me that I was transforming from a trail running rookie to a veteran. Normally I would take this as a small congratulatory expression, but at this moment, with the emotions of finishing the race starting to kick in, and the gratitude I felt towards him and the rest of the Rogue group that I had the privilege to train with and learn from, it meant everything to me. I was now ready to go hard. I decided that the last aid station around mile 47 would be my starting line. When we got there, I had some Dr. Pepper and a Gu, said thank you to Joe, and I took off. I took off on my personal 5K race with no limits. As far as I was concerned, I was going for a world record at my astonishing 9:30/mile pace. I ran the uphills and "sprinted" the downhills. I saw a woman that had passed us earlier and it fueled me to continue on. I passed her and thought about the next victim. There was no stopping me now...
On second thought, there was something that could stop me. I turned the final corner and saw the finish line in sight. That was the only thing that could stop me now. The music was going, people were cheering. I ran past some Roguers and waved. I waved to my wife and ran hard to the finish line. Crossing the line I felt a wave of emotions that I hadn't felt before. It was excitement and disbelief, acomplishment, and even a little sadness that it was all over. Not the run, but the journey of getting there. I had so much fun during this adventure.
And here's the real kicker. When I cheked the results (mostly to see how others had fared) I saw my name with a '1' next to it. Can you believe it, I actually won my age group? Man, this was a pleasant surprise. There were only a couple of us in the age group, but it still felt great. Sunmart was giving out these great little "horse" trophies that I had admired before the race, and now I was actually going to get one.
My wife, Kara, and I got in the car around 11am, and we drove to a friends house to drop off our dog. We dropped her off and headed out 290 to Houston for packet pick-up. I was anxious to just get through Houston before traffic picked up so that we could get to our hotel and settle down before dinner. I had this glorious plan of getting to bed early that night, which obviously was not thought out very well. Packet pickup was amazing. I couldn't believe how much stuff they gave us. But my rule for these races is that I don't look at or enjoy the gifts until after I have completed the race. There are people that will take out the free shirt and wear it that day, or during the race, but I just won't have it. The shirt and everything else stays in the bag until I finish the race. I have to feel like I earned the rewards. So Kara and I tossed the bag of goodies in the trunk and headed for Huntsville.
Once we got to the hotel we quickly unpacked and headed to Chile's for some pre-race dinner. I had the Cajun Chicken Pasta. Not because it looked good to me, or because I thought I needed to carbo-load, but because this is what I ate (at the same restaurant) the night before Rocky Raccoon. I'm very superstitious, so I didn't want to change anything. I would have asked to sit at the same table if I thought that my wife wouldn't smack me for doing so. After dinner we were walking to the car and it was so cold. The wind blew right through my jacket and I shivered. I don't know if it was because of the cold or because of my nerves, but that's when I lost all confidence. I thought about the cold weather, and my aching feet, and the 10 hours I was getting ready to run, and I told Kara, "Tomorrow is going to suck... Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life." It sounds comical and melodramatic now, but when I said it there was no doubt in my mind that I was speaking the truth. She brushed it off, knowing I was my usual nervous wreck, and we went back to the hotel for some sleep. I stayed up way too late watching re-runs of the Curb Your Enthusiasm before I finially nodded off into a shallow slumber.
The race started at 7am. I lined up in the back of the pack, heeding Sisson's advice to start slowly, and just settled into a slow waddle for the first few miles. It was really slow. I'm pretty sure I could walk faster and before too long I finally got fed up and started passing people. It didn't surpise me, this is how I do every race. There is an old buddhist saying that guides a lot of what I do. It says, "If you are going to cook, cook." It means that if you are going to do something, do it with everything you've got. Don't compromise anything. And for me, on this day, I was going to run. So I ran. I stepped out of the single file line, and I took off. I know it wasn't the most strategic move, and I probably wasted precious energy, but for me it was mental and I knew I had to feed my pride. At the long lonely out-and-back I saw JT. I was at least 10 minutes back from him and I figured the next time I saw him it would be 9 hours later and he'd be drinking a beer in the tent. I knew he had set a goal of 8 hours on this race and hoped he would make it. Next I saw Joe P and he was just like you'd expect, flying down the trail and catching up with an old friend. I waved and kept on down the trail to the turn-around. I hate that out-and-back and just tried to get through it as quickly as possible, knowing I'd do it 3 more times. The rest of the loop was uneventful. I got to the end of the first loop, waved to some spectators, chugged a Slimfast, and headed out for the next loop feeling good.
The second loop was more of the same. I saw a few people I knew, said hello and kept running at a solid 10:30 pace. When I reached the halfway point, I was right on pace for a 9 hour finish time. I was running great, but knew I wouldn't finish this strong. But my pace felt calibrated now, and figured I could venture a guess of 9:30 for a finish time. I was at 4:30, so I could run the second half 30 minutes slower. I told Kara that I was gonna slow down the third loop and save some energy for my "finishing kick." By this time I had a blister on my right foot that was starting to really hurt, but I didn't want to take off my shoe and treat it. Partially because I didn't want to sit around taking care of it, but mostly because I didn't want to know how bad it was. So I slammed another Slimfast and headed out for the second half.
I was right about slowing down for the third loop. At first I was taking scheduled walking breaks every 10 minutes (or when I reached some of the bigger hills), but soon my walking breaks became more frequent. I'd catch myself walking when I didn't even realize that I had stopped running. When I did start running, it was little more than a waddle. All this training, all the advice from Steve, Joe and the other veterans, and now it was out the window. Now I just needed to suck it up and run. I ate where I could, but the only thing I could take down was boiled potatoes. So I ate a lot of them. At the out-and-back I saw Jennifer and then Dano. They both looked tired, but healthy. I knew they were going to finish and I was happy for them. It gave me a little energy to see some familar faces and I probably got a good 15 minute jog in before I was tired again. Around mile 35 my blister became unbearable. I found a park bench and sat down. I quickly took off my shoe and sock, popped the blister with my fingernail, cleaned off some of the sand from my foot, and laced back up. Believe it or not, the blister never bothered me again. I stumbled to the end of the third loop, and past the HCTR tent trying to look better than I felt. I saw Joe there getting ready to head out for his last loop. I saw Claire and found out she took second in her age group which is great! And I saw my poor wife still sitting in the cold weather, out there to support me like always.
I sat down for a second and drank my last Slimfast for the day. Just then I heard Joe ask me if I'm gonna head out. He's ready to go and I'm not sure whether I am or not. But this was my chance to run with a legend and so I didn't waste any time. I jumped out of my seat, said goodbye to Kara, and I took off behind Joe. He was running a solid pace out of the starting gate and I quickly decided I wouldn't stay with him for very long. It was nice to run with him, he had taught me so much in the past few months whether he realized it or not, but it would be dumb to try to keep up with him. But I hung with him for awhile and struck up some conversation. We walked the uphills, but ran a good pace on the flats and downhills. We talked about some runs and nutrition and some other things, and the next thing I knew we were 5 miles into the loop and I felt better at that moment than I did during the first loop. My blood was pumping, the adreneline was flowing, I was a well-oiled machine after 42 miles. Before long I was confident again and I realized for the first time that I was going to make it to the finish line. There was nothing now that could stop me. Joe kept saying that I should go ahead without him if I was ready but I knew I wasn't yet. The time would come where I would give it that "finishing kick" I referred to earlier, but it wasn't time yet. Around 45 miles Joe told me that I was transforming from a trail running rookie to a veteran. Normally I would take this as a small congratulatory expression, but at this moment, with the emotions of finishing the race starting to kick in, and the gratitude I felt towards him and the rest of the Rogue group that I had the privilege to train with and learn from, it meant everything to me. I was now ready to go hard. I decided that the last aid station around mile 47 would be my starting line. When we got there, I had some Dr. Pepper and a Gu, said thank you to Joe, and I took off. I took off on my personal 5K race with no limits. As far as I was concerned, I was going for a world record at my astonishing 9:30/mile pace. I ran the uphills and "sprinted" the downhills. I saw a woman that had passed us earlier and it fueled me to continue on. I passed her and thought about the next victim. There was no stopping me now...
On second thought, there was something that could stop me. I turned the final corner and saw the finish line in sight. That was the only thing that could stop me now. The music was going, people were cheering. I ran past some Roguers and waved. I waved to my wife and ran hard to the finish line. Crossing the line I felt a wave of emotions that I hadn't felt before. It was excitement and disbelief, acomplishment, and even a little sadness that it was all over. Not the run, but the journey of getting there. I had so much fun during this adventure.
And here's the real kicker. When I cheked the results (mostly to see how others had fared) I saw my name with a '1' next to it. Can you believe it, I actually won my age group? Man, this was a pleasant surprise. There were only a couple of us in the age group, but it still felt great. Sunmart was giving out these great little "horse" trophies that I had admired before the race, and now I was actually going to get one.
After this I headed back to the tent and said goodbye to my new running friends. It was so great to get to see them all after their own great accomplishments. I could not have trained for and finished this race without this great group of runners. Congratulations to all that had the courage to get out there and run this weekend. I can't wait to see you on the trails again soon. I guess now it's time to sing up for Bandera.
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