The Real Reason

Over the years I have refined my answer to the most common question when interrogated by someone who does not understand running when they ask “why do you run marathons?” My answer has ranged from a sarcastic comment to a drawn out explanation of the benefits I derive from running and how they permeate other aspects of my life. More recently I have learned that running is not a selfish decision made with my self interest in mind as i previously believed. I also run for other people.

Prior to the 2010 LA Marathon I was committed to running the full marathon but unfortunately life got in the way. As a result my training consisted primarily of quality runs and much less on mileage. I did not have the opportunity for the usual five weekly runs that I depend on when training for a full marathon and instead wound up most weeks running only three times.

Since this had never happened I had no idea what to expect for the outcome. Would the race turn into a long day of regretting my lack of preparation, or would the abbreviated weekly schedule leave me feeling fresh and strong on race day? I came to terms with this race as an experiment in training and all I could do was hope for the best.

I trained and ran the race with a friend of mine who coincidentally wore the same shirt on race day. We both had very distinctive singlets from a previous company sponsored race and we individually decided to wear them in LA. They were bright red with the company name across the back of the shirt.

To his advantage he did not experience the missing weekday runs and followed our training program to the letter. If it said “run 9 miles on Tues” he ran 9 miles. Come race day we started the race together. I intended to gage my ability to keep up as we went along since I was breaking new ground with so few hours and miles of training. Unfortunately by mile six I had to let him go as I began to fall behind. I labored to continue at what felt like the same pace we started running, only to be reminded at each mile marker I was running a little slower.

As I approached the twenty mile marker something most unexpected happened. I spotted the bright red singlet ahead of me, on the right hand side of the road, walking. Sure enough it was my training partner and friend. He proclaimed he was “done” when I caught up to him which frightened me. I had never known him to tap out in an event. Ever.

Encouragement seemed like a viable option. I said “just stick with me, we’ll get in under four hours.” He would manage to pick it up and jog a few steps, only to announce “I’m done” again and start walking shortly after. After a few more failed attempts I realized that it was my turn to leave him behind. I announced I would see him at the finish as I drudged on ahead of him.

I managed to cross the finish line in 3:48 which is not a bad time for me. The training three runs per week proved to be sufficient to finish a marathon, but it was insufficient for preparing me to run hard the entire race. Wondering how he was doing, and worried he may not have been able to complete the race, I started to make my way back upstream hoping to find him and encourage him to finish when I noticed he was already entering the finisher’s area. He managed to pull it together and ended up finishing with a 3:56 to my surprise. If I had any reason to suspect he would be able to get moving again I would have stuck with him. I would gladly give up an all out effort in a marathon for the chance to help get a friend through their first marathon.

When we reunited in the finisher’s area he began to tell me a story. Something truly wonderful and amazing. An unknown runner approached him at the finish line and asked if he was part of a race team? Confused by the question he replied that he was not, but that there were two of us wearing the same shirt. She continued, and asked him to thank me, the other runner wearing the red singlet. She then explained that she was really struggling late in the race yet noticed this person ahead of her, dressed in red, hanging on. She figured if that person can hang on, so can I. And so she did. This runner, unknown to me, was lifted just enough to remain in the race when she felt like stopping encouraged only by a stranger in a red shirt ahead of her who also refused to give up. And sometimes that is all it takes. Knowing it is possible. That we can hang on in spite of overwhelming feeling to give up.

For the first time I knew and to this day my answer no longer varies. In fact I look forward to hearing the once dreaded question from others “why do you run marathons?”

“To inspire other people” I now reply content with my answer. That is the real reason.

A Bad Race?

In my youth I used to believe that there was no such thing as bad beer. Some beer just goes down better than others. In that same spirit today I believe that there are no bad races. Some of them just go better than others.

The race that could have gone better in this case simply refers to me not meeting my goal. Finishing a race and feeling let down or disappointed afterward, instead of being overcome by the familar euphoric feeling. On some days the goal can be nothing more than not falling down (*see my "On Your Feet" blog) or not walking throughout the entire run. But for this race it meant not crossing the finish line within my predicted time.

Running for me has always been a metaphor for life. Putting in the effort is the first step. More often that not on my early morning long runs I think to myself “most of these people are still in bed” as I run past their house unnoticed. With the pristine minutes of dawn all to myself, as the silence of the day before it unfolds lifts my spirits and makes me glad I got out of bed on that day. Yes it would have been easier to stay in my warm, comfy bed. But it would also be less rewarding.

Then comes learning your limitations. You can always choose to accept or not accept them, it’s completely up to you. Determination and perseverance go a long way in altering your course here. I often wonder what if Danny DeVito thought to himself "I’m not the Hollywood type?" and as such never pursued what turned out to be a remarkable career in Tinsel Town.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there is learning from your mistakes. Every long distance effort should teach you something. What to wear, how to train, what to eat or not eat, and most importantly what you will do when faced with adversity. This is where effort, limitations, and knowledge converge.

Falling nearly a minute per mile off the desired pace in this last half marathon could be interpreted many ways. I am getting older and slower. In this example time will always win. We do all get slower as we age, there is no denying it. But I don’t believe that was problem. In fact I am willing to wager my best runs are yet to come.

So what happened? Maybe I didn’t choose the right plan to prepare me for my goal. Or perhaps I didn’t follow it as closely as I should have. It is possible that throwing a race in the middle of a marathon training plan isn’t a good idea. Of this I can’t yet be sure. But I do know that missing my goal was very humbling, and also very inspiring at the same time. Like those long, lonely miles often late in the run when your mind is telling you to stop, now is the time to decide what you’re willing to accept – in the next race or your life – and refocus on how you can obtain your desired goal.

Racing and Placing

As I reflect back 2008 proved to be an interesting year. The election of an African American president, the near collapse of the financial system, five dollar plus per gallon fuel just to name a few. In my mind it became the “the year of firsts.” The year also brought many firsts on a personal level. Increased professional responsibility, my youngest daughter started kindergarten, and in spite of my better judgment, my commitment to return to the marathon.

My plan was very simple: to run a 1:30 half marathon. I thought a series of races would be necessary to achieve my then lofty goal, so I intended to knock them out as a 1:50, 1:40, and finally the 90 minute half. After proving to myself that I could run a respectable half marathon I would begin my assault on the full. The way I figured it, it would take me well into 2009.

As fate would have it I missed my initial 1:50 attempt in February by less than one minute (refer to my “Running in the Rain” post). I met the first goal a few months later on a tougher course, a personal best and redemption on my first attempt. In my third half marathon still in the first half of the year with a goal of 1:40 I tried a different strategy. Instead of getting beat-up on a hilly course I would run a fast course and take advantage of the downhill portions. At each mile marker I ran my personal best and held the sub 7 minute pace the entire race. I knocked off my fastest 5K, 10K and crossed the finish line with a 1:30. With this premature triumph and all three goals met, do I take off the rest of the year or do I do something I hadn’t done for quite some time - run for fun?

I decided to try and continue training hard without a specific race in mind. No set distance, no race date. Just two or three quality runs a week along with a few base runs. On a whim at the last minute I entered a 5k and to my surprise I managed to take 4th. More of a surprise was that the race gave awards five deep. My first time on the podium is one I’ll never forget. As others callously accepted their award I let out a burst of excitement and my best triumphant pose after receiving my award. The crowd loved it. I raced another last minute 5k in late summer, a small local benefit race and placed second. For the first time I began to think about placing, and also possibly winning a race.

Hitting an annual goal in the first half of the year and making the decision to “run for fun” the rest of the year opened the door to things I had not yet imagined. I would not have found these experiences if I was still focused the entire year on running a half marathon. That first seemingly insignificant and unexpected 5K that put me on the stage has forever changed my running. And I realize, isn’t that how life works? Our best thought out plans and goals are necessary tools, but not an end point. Instead of taking us where we think we need to go, sometimes they take us in the direction we should be heading. Without our contrived, yet well-intentioned goals, we may not create the opportunity to find out where we need to be.

So now the real question remains: should I succumb to shorter distances and admit that perhaps the marathon is not my forte or continue to wage my personal war with the full marathon again? I don’t yet know. But rest assured I’ll be pondering that concept on my next long run...

Being is Believing

This time of year we tend to reflect inward. A self-assessment to gain understanding and insight into who we are and more importantly who we want to be. I realize January has almost passed and I have yet to formalize my goals. Maybe it is not the most interesting task on my to-do list, yet perhaps it is the most necessary.

Experience has taught me that it is very difficult to achieve goals that I have not defined. And I’ve also learned that almost all aspects in our life that are significant require goals. I remember when a previous employer asked me what was my five year goal? At that very moment I realized from his reaction that my standby answer “to make more money and have a better position” sounded as absurd to hear as it felt to say. In a same way “to run faster and farther this year” as my running goal sounds equally absurd.

I have come to realize the significance and importance of having clearly defined goals. How aggressively you set them should depend on how you feel about both meeting – and not meeting them. Personally I feel better when I set realistic goals that are aggressive and not met, than setting goals that are more practical and often too easily met. We all need to decide how we feel about our personal successes and failures prior to formalizing our goals.

With all that said my running goal for 2009 is simple: qualify for Boston. I realize that it will require first and foremost a serious commitment. Building the kind of mileage I need to log to handle a full marathon at essentially a tempo run pace will not only require my time, but it will effect other people in my life as well. Out of fairness I should at least give them a head’s up and ask for their support prior to making my commitment.

It will also require that I remain injury free. Much of that comes down to hard, intelligent training, and possibly a little bit of luck.

But most of all it will involve the determination to push hard late in the race. Not giving in to those fleeting moments of sel-doubt when the thought of giving in to the pain of pushing the pace sets in. Or the running rationalization that occurs on most twenty mile training runs that tempts me to head back at sixteen miles, or whatever mile marker the running begins to really get interesting, with the promise to myself of “making it up next week.”

Of all the potential obstacles, this is the one that concerns me the most. The one that only exists in my mind. Not the time needed to get in the miles, or the strain it may put on my personal relationships. And forget for a moment that dropping an additional 35 minutes off my marathon personal best may not even be physically possible. It is not a question of commitment, or how much I want it, but a question of what am I willing to endure to in order to reach my goal.

Somewhere down deep inside, I believe I can. I feel it. And believing you can accomplish your goal is the most important step toward achieving it.

Running with Bliss

When a friend of mine gave me an audio recording of the late Joseph Campbell this past year I had no idea at the time how much it would profoundly affect my life. The weeks became months as I left the CD in my player of my vehicle during my daily commute. At first I thought it would be a viable option whenever I could not find some music that suits my mood. Seemed like a reasonable alternative to the limitless audio choices and a definite alternative to countless commercials that plague the morning commute hours on the airwaves.

What I quickly discovered was that this Joseph Campbell recording became my first choice when in transport, not just an alternate to advertising.

The recording is composed of various sessions and interviews that took place over a period of years during Joseph’s lifetime. The subject matter ranges from his more well known admonition “follow your bliss” which speaks to the importance of doing what we are passionate about, to the origin and significance of myth in various cultures and the joy one can experience with the fullness of age.

One thought in particular that stuck with me was his idea, which was really more of a warning to those who consider themselves spiritual teachers is the danger of pride. According to Joseph one may begin to believe that they are in fact a spiritual teacher to which he responds "Well you’re not. All you can do is offer people clues."

The implications of this concept found their way into my personal life when I realized that perhaps his idea had even a broader context than Joseph himself intended. As I pondered the idea over countless miles of my daily mobile meditation (yes, running) I began to wonder if a running teacher could exist? If so, who would it be? The fastest runner? Not likely. The most successful runner? Nope. The winner of the last big race? No. None of it made any more sense than the spiritual teaching concept. The problem being there is no one pathh to find one’s spiritual bliss or running your personal best.

If there was such a program everyone would follow it. All people can do is offer clues. Hints. Pieces of advice that worked for them, or perhaps, for others. But the path that we all must follow can only be the one that we create. We must constantly refine our plan, adjusting to life changes. Our situation is constantly evolving and as such our goals must evolve as well.

I think most importantly the best we can hope for is to find pointers and advice at times when we need input during our lifetime. A subtle hint redirecting us when we feel lost and overwhelmed, or perhaps just the acknowledgement by another individual that we have accomplished something.

Follow your own path, wherever it leads you. And if that path involves running 26.2 miles at a time, do it according to your own plan. Thats the only plan that will work for you.

It's Supposed to Hurt

“It is always by way of pain that one arrives at pleasure.” - the Marquis De Sade

What better way to describe long distance running? The reason we push ourselves. The justification for engaging in the sport in the first place. No, not to intentionally get hurt running. That’s an unfortunate side effect most likely to occur when you’re over reaching a goal, or not running smart. But to find the point when running begins to hurt, and how you handle that pain.

I’m not speaking of the general discomfort most people would associate with running for exercise, or even for health or fitness. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that approach, but I’ve never known an “exerciser” to run more than a few miles. A 5k or 10k at best. I’m talking about a half marathon minimum, or of course a full 26.2 miles. Something happens out there. You’re testing yourself. Your limits. Your spirit. And the reward is proportional to the sacrifice.

It’s supposed to hurt. It’s a marathon. The intent is to get you to run further than your body will want to run. How you engage in the physiological war that your body wages is entirely up to you. You can always stop. Take walk breaks. Or even drop out all together. But for those who choose to stay and fight, subjecting themselves to the pain, pushing through every mile, and eventually every step, the accomplishment of completing the race is all yours. The feeling of making a commitment to yourself and keeping it. Honoring yourself.

So enjoy your pain. Define your limits. What better why to get acquainted with your true character?

What an Ass

Almost three months to the day after incurring a stress fractured tibia I was about to make my second attempt to run. My first endeavor two days earlier ended in a complete disaster as I ran, jogged, walked and almost crawled my way back from what should have been an easy five miler. Apparently my diligent efforts to cross train failed to keep me conditioned, or more accurately failed to keep me conditioned for running. The fact that I can swim a thirty-six minute mile was inconsequential when my running shoes are laced up and I am unable to complete a routine five miler.

Today I felt a little better out of the gate. I set out on my run a little more cautiously, lowering the bar slightly. Instead of trying to determine how much conditioning I had lost, my goal simply became to finish the run sans walk breaks. A very modest goal for someone who runs twenty-five miles a week consistently when healthy, but I admit, I was seriously rattled by my first attempt.

The reduced pace made this the type of run I would have been bored with pre-injury, but much like during a marathon I was intentionally holding on to precious strength from my very first steps. Immediately I noticed my legs felt fresher than when I ran regularly, with the exception of a subtle twinge where my fracture had been. Just past the first mile mark I began to feel more optimistic. In the past I’d learned not to evaluate a run prior to running, or even within the first few miles. They often felt bad. Sometimes they felt really bad. There were times when I had contemplated writing the whole thing off as “not my day” initially only to tough out a mile or two and then go on to set my own course record for that route. On those days in spite of my perceived high effort level at what felt like an excruciating slow pace, to my surprise the finish time was lower than expected.

As I got further along in the run and deeper into thought I was starting to feel the noose loosen, releasing me from the feeling of hating every step. “Hating” might be a little strong, yet “not enjoying” seems inadequate. I have never been able to incorporate a mantra into a training run for more than a few minutes as I’m normally unable to keep my mind focused on a single thought or theme amidst so much stimulation, from both my environment and from within. I found myself subconsciously repeating “just get through the run” in my head when I was distracted by the sound of an approaching automobile from behind me, causing my train of thought to shift and I lost my focus as it approached on the isolated stretch of road.

Out of my peripheral vision I see the car as it slows down beside me. A red flag for most runners. Definitely a significant enough distraction to cause me to lose focus on my "get through the run" mantra. Typically it is just someone new to the overwhelming metropolis known as Los Angeles slowing to ask for directions, but on occasion the intent turns out to be a little more devious. In fact during my three years of road running in the city I’ve been approached by prostitutes, both male and female, inadvertently interrupted drug deals, and I’ve been chased and bitten my more dogs than most postal carriers. Any slowing car warrants my immediate and full attention.
Anything less would be irresponsible on my part.

A quick glance over my shoulder and I realize it’s not just a car, it’s a police car. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m immediately thankful because I’m not sure I have the energy to deal with any serious situations today. Nonchalantly I look behind me to see if some homicidal maniac is in the vicinity only to find I’m all alone on my favorite work route along the train tracks, with the sole exception of the police car.

“What are you doing?” is yelled through the speaker system on the vehicle. Now I’m convinced someone I didn’t notice is nearby, perhaps a homeless person doing god knows what on the train tracks. Obviously someone was doing something they shouldn’t be doing, but who? So I continue plodding along, ignoring the officer. I figure it’s better to just mind my own business at this point and not interfere. Automatically my pace increases due to adrenaline, not a conscious decision, as I attempt to put some distance between me and this potential situation.

Abruptly the car speeds ahead of me before coming to a complete stop and this time the officer yells “What do you think you’re doing?” while looking directly at me. What do you think you’re doing is a completely different question to someone that holds a bachelor’s degree in philosophy. I thought I was improving my fitness, although given the level of effort I was putting into what was essentially a recovery run, even that was debatable. Confused, I stopped running and walked toward the patrol car to see if maybe I can be of assistance.

“What are you doing?” he repeats for the third time, although he did not use the audio system this time, instead opting to bark at me through the open passenger window. Not intending to be a wise ass I replied “uh, running?” as I struggled to catch my breath. I’m thinking “is this some sort of trick question?” I mean isn’t it fairly obvious? I’m wearing running shoes, shorts and a tee shirt. I must be missing something here. Obviously he’s not a detective, this much is obvious, but even a street cop should recognize an honest attempt at fitness. He didn’t respond verbally and his glare intensified. Wrong answer, I could tell. In an attempt to diffuse his mounting frustration I offer “I guess I don’t understand your question.” Again maybe that’s not what he wanted to hear, but it was absolutely true.

“Can’t you see the sign?” he continues, managing to sound both aggressive and condescending at the same time. Quickly I glance up. I had run this route more times than I can recall, and yet I’ve never noticed a sign prohibiting running. The closest sign to us is a street sign.

“San Fernando?” I reply with a compliant tone and confused look on my face.

“No, the other sign” he snaps back. Apparently he felt I was toying with him or just playing stupid. So now I play along and look up again. There are only two signs directly visible; the aforementioned street sign and a speed limit sign. Sure on a good day I might actually exceed a 15 mph speed limit, but that would of course be during short intervals while running downhill with a tailwind. This definitely wasn’t the case today. Besides the posted speed limit was 45 mph. He must mean something other than the street sign and the speed limit sign, but what?

I responded apologetically “I’m sorry, but I don’t see it.” My only other option was to say “45 mph”, but I’m afraid at this time that answer might be misinterpreted and I will be beaten down and probably left for dead. Sadly in my weakened post injury state of conditioning I knew I was probably too tired to out run him. I decide I had better hold off on the genuine wise crack.

“Up by the tracks” he exclaims, this time nodding his head in the general direction of the train tracks. So I move a few feet toward the street to get closer to his vantage point and look in the direction he appeared to nod. There it was:

NO TRESSPASSING

It’s written in bold red letters on a sign with a black and white image of a figure crossing the train tracks. Why had I never noticed this sign before I wondered? I guess I’m normally too concerned with my footing along the rocks that often accompany the tracks, and the unstable terrain to look up and read the nearby road signs.

“There’s no running here!” he barks, obviously angry for some reason in spite of my compliance.

“I’ve never noticed that sign” I reply. Whether he believed me or not, I have no idea. “So I can’t run here, anywhere?” I’m at least 30 feet away from the train tracks. I’m astounded that I’ve traveled down this trail so many times without incident that this entire side of the road is off limits.

He reluctantly concedes “just stay close to the road” in a tone consistent with the entire dialog, as if I had angered him by intentionally doing something wrong. He gives me one last look of disgust and then begins to drive away.

Slowly I begin to make my way again, this time staying within a few feet of the road. The terrain is much rockier near the road, and there are no level areas that are easy to follow. As I continue balancing on the uneven terrain and jumping between rocks and stones I begin to notice that the sensation I previously felt in my tibia was gone. I no longer felt short of breath like I did prior to being lectured by the officer. In fact, I began to feel as if I could start running instead of jogging. As I continue to run my mind is replaying the incident, and with each stride I get more angry.

What was he trying to prove? Badgering someone who obviously had no criminal intent in an area with more than a fair share of those who, shall I say not so morally minded, makes no sense. It was like a good cop/bad cop scene in a movie minus the good cop. As I effortlessly approach the four mile mark I realize I’ve covered more ground than I was aware of and was using a mantra effectively for the first time. Although it wasn’t encouraging me to continue, as I had intended earlier, but it was powerful enough to over shadow any further distractions.

As I accelerated my last half mile to complete my five mile run, and more significantly my second run after nearly three months off, all the thoughts of my injury and my failed attempt to maintain my conditioning via cross training become the furthest thing from my mind. Instead a single phrase seemed to stick with me the entire last three miles, and even stayed with me post run.

“What an ass” officially became my first running mantra.