Running The B Team: The Heart Between My Shoulders

I used to think that the will to win was enough, that talent was a myth meant for books. I thought my body was capable of anything I tried. I was wrong. Sure God gave me the desire to win, but not the speed, He gave me the endurance but not the stomach, He gave me the will to press on when all roads looked gloomy, but not the talent. On some of my more upsetting runs I would scream out to Him asking why I can’t be great when I gave it all I had every time. I would hear nothing in return, just a hollow wind coming from the empty fields around me. I would reach the top of large hills and look into the distance hoping that maybe he would give me a sign of hope. I would get tired of looking and demand that he tell me in words whatever it was I wanted to hear. I knew one thing for sure, God gave every other runner two legs, two arms, one brain, and one heart. God gave more talent to some of those legs and less to others. The one thing He gave to me more than anyone else was more heart. When you have heart you think anything is possible, that mountains and storms will move from your way because you are willing to endure anything to achieve your goals. Well, they don’t move and neither do I. I’ve always heard that I had a big heart, that I was dedicated to whatever I tried, more determination than any normal man had, and I always looked at the best things in life. But none of that matters whenever you race against talent. Talent has a smug way of telling you that you aren’t the best because of the hard training or the simple things you have to give up, but because it is winning. Talent loves to be the best, to raise a finger after winning a race to say that your number one. Talent hates the runner who has none and tries anyways. Talent laughs in your face as they glide past you. Talent makes winners out of real losers. Talent makes people who otherwise wouldn’t care and beat the others who only train to win. So I guess you could say, talent hates me.
During my long runs I ran in a place I called the Pits, or to many others the river bottoms. I ran these ones alone. The worst place for me to be was alone, because I had time to think about myself other than carrying on a conversation or keeping a steady pace with others. This is what I believe every runner goes through sometime in their life. The old dirt roads always called my name as my foot grazed the ground. I always seemed to hear one thing from the road, that was “Faster.” Nothing else, just faster. So I did as I was told and ran faster. Tears rolled down my cheek as I ran as hard as my body would let me. Blood sometimes would gush from my nose as I pushed the physical construct of my body. Sweat would fly as my arms would stiffly swing. All this time wasted on a false dream, a fictitious hope, unproductive miles. All I wanted to do was give up. Sure I have given four years of my life to racing and seven years to running, but none of that mattered. I no longer wanted to known as a runner. I knew I could handle high mileage weeks and tough speed sessions, but I never seen it taking me anywhere. I was a nobody trying to act as a hero. My time was up. I was no longer a runner, just a man.
In dark times the Lord knows how to make you feel better than you started off at and, of course, I continued to run, like an idiot, and hoped for the best. The heart between my shoulders helped me run through the pain once again and for that I thank it, I thank God, and I thank my training partners. Without these I never would have continued to run.
Was I meant to go on though? All this time I had dreamed of something and pushed the other way. I never gained anymore respect than when I started. People still laughed at me when I ran, still called me names. If this was anything it was torment, I mean I had more respect when I lifted weights. At least then people knew what I was capable of, so they didn’t taunt me. Even though lifting made me feel like I was a big idiot who only knew how to lift, I was respected. But I never did need respect, at least not from others. All I needed was the feeling of completeness, the warm feeling in my heart. I only sought after respect from certain people, people I cared for. It was the only way I knew how to run my best time.