Life was always a challenge to me, whether it was school work or physical effort I would try the best I could. I guess that is what made me, well, me. I started out running not as a means to become better than anyone else, I started running because I was doing just that, running away. Not really running away physically, but rather running from my fears, from my problems, and from myself. Each run was, in a since, a challenge to me. It made me feel better about my faults as a person after I was done. It didn’t matter that my stride was short and awkward, it didn’t matter my arms looked stiff and elbows flew, and it didn’t matter that I would stare at the ground when I needed to push forward, I still was running.
I ran because I wanted time to think more than any other reason. I ran because it cleared my mind and I could clearly think about where I wanted to go in life. When I would run for long distances I would rarely get tired because of the run, I had a way of breaking myself down on those longer runs. My thoughts were not as clear as they once were when running was pure, more than the machine like movements my body adapted to. Running was a way of life. I would let all my pain, all my sorrows, and all my hatred out on a run. I wasn’t like the occasional jogger, I enjoyed the pain. I, in a sense, was a little sadistic. I would sometimes run until tears rolled down my cheeks, till blood ran out of my nose, until the inflammation of my knees would give away, I would run until I was physically drained. I liked the feeling that muscle fatigue gave me. I never had to fight against that feeling of heaviness in the legs. The feeling of my body telling to stop was something I craved all my life.
Racing was something that made me feel awful about myself. I never really had a good race. Just races were I would fall apart and run horribly, slower than some practices. It made me angry because I knew I had all these people judging me as I would finish behind the best. Most of them probably thinking that I didn’t train hard. They knew nothing of my training, they knew nothing of the intensity of my runs, and they knew nothing of my heart. Sure, I had the heart of an Olympian, but the talent of a nobody. But that never stopped me, I never used it as an excuse for my poor racing. There was no excuse. All I knew was that I had to keep on trying to prove everyone wrong and show them that I could become the great runner I knew I could be. All I ever wanted to hear was the sound of the bell lap as I crossed into the final lap of the ten thousand and begin my sprint, leaving the other runners behind. But that’s a dream and this is a reality.
My running wasn’t about getting me anywhere. I was lost in my mind most of the time, not caring about people around. I would be so focused that the sound of people talking to me while running was drained from the environment. I guess you could say I was running in the wind, running blind. And that focus is what made me a great runner, because I was always waiting for the next run, the next practice, the next race, and the next opportunity to become better than I already was. I knew I could become the runner I knew I was at heart, but what would be the costs?
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Stained Underwear
When I started running it was merely a means of putting painful memories out of my mind. The constant pain that it put me through made me forget her face… at times. When you spend enough time out on the road and trail then you see enough crazy stuff that most people wouldn’t believe.
My first story was when I was out of a run with my buddy, trying to stay in shape for a half marathon. We hit the two mile mark we had an old van come up from behind us and passed us up and went another 40 feet or so. The next thing I saw shock me internally. An old man, he looked almost homeless, got out of the driver’s seat and went to the back of the van. He opened the back door and forced two dogs out of the van. He then took off and left the dogs behind. We saw the dogs out there for the next week before animal shelter was called and they were picked up.
Next story, I was on a long run out in the pits and running down a long forested road. I saw ten turkeys in the road. I started to laugh as I a thought came into my mind. I ran full speed at them screaming and scaring them all off. They flew, or should I say glided, down into a gully on the left side of the road. All of a sudden I heard noises to my right. I looked up the hill on my right and saw fifteen or more turkeys flying right at me. I continued to run down the road as the turkeys chased me. It took a couple of minutes but then they decided I wasn’t worth the effort.
A later run on the same road brought me to see something dangerous. First a little more detail is needed to be known about where I’m from. My county had the highest rate of meth users in the US. The surrounding counties were pretty high too. Where I run at is out in the river bottoms. I can run for hours and not see a vehicle. As I ran down the road I kept a constant pace of about 6:00 minute mile pace. It was my first long run in a couple weeks so I wanted to hit it hard. On this road you would have small hills and at the crest of each hill you could see the next crest. The road was surrounded by a dense forest. I finally made it to about fifty minutes out, ten more minutes and I can start my way back. As I hit the next crest o stopped dead in my tracks. There, 200 meters away, was two men talking to each other. One wore a black shirt the other a white shirt. I was stunned. There wasn’t any vehicle in sight, at least not on this side of the crest. I have ran this road for years and never saw anyone else on foot and only a few vehicles. Then the men shook hands. That is when I said enough is enough and I turned around and started back. When I did this one of the men took off and started running towards me. There wasn’t going to be any way he was going to catch me. There was about two miles of road that I had to travel to hit a four way intersection. I thought that if I made it to there then I would be able to lose who ever was chasing me. I ran fast, probably 5:30 pace or faster. I was about 100 meters away from the intersection when I heard it. It was an old white trash car, think old Ford LTD style. The car was barreling down the road in my direction and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to lose him now. I prepared myself to be in a fight as I hit the intersection and turned left up a large hill. He then slowed down and stared at me as he passed. I did the country thing and waved hello as he passed. He returned it and took off. The thing that scared me the most was that when I looked into the back seat of his car he had a humungous rotweiler there. I think I saw a drug deal go down and luckily I decided not to go any further than what I did, people have been killed for seeing stuff like that.
Turkeys weren’t the only animals I came into contact with on a run out in the pits. I remember one run when I saw an entire pack of coyotes in a field. Now it isn’t too strange to see coyotes out here but an entire pack moving across an open field at 3:00 in the afternoon was pretty strange. They were yelping and barking as they crossed the field. There must have been 10 or 15 of them. I also came across two different cats. The first one was a bobcat. Now any cat like this is hard to come by were I’m from and when I saw it I only could stop and take in the beauty of it. He stood there very casually and looked at me for a couple of minutes and then took off. The next cat was a cougar. I was running hard up a hill and heard something moving in the woods next to the road. I stopped and saw a tail and back end of a cougar. A little freaked out, I stopped turned around and started walking back towards my truck. My truck was about three miles away. I walked for a good quarter mile and then started running when I was surrounded by open fields.
About four years after this first encounter with a cougar I came back to my hometown for a few weeks. I went out for a run. I wasn't in the same shape that I was back then but just trying to enjoy the little time of being back home that I had. The location of this run was probably a good 5 or 6 miles away from my original location. I was a few miles into the run and seen something crossing the road. I picked it up because I thought it was a deer. As I got closer I then realized that it wasn't a deer as it wasn't tall enough and way too big to be a deer. I got even closer, I seen it wasn't alone. There it was, about 100 meters away, a cougar and her cub crossing the road. I waited a few minutes before running forward to the place where she crossed the road. I wasn't worried about being attacked; there was a open field on one side of the road that went for a half mile and a little field about 100 meters and then the treeline of the forest. I stopped looked around to see if I could see them, no luck. I did see some pretty nice sized tracks crossing the road.
My first story was when I was out of a run with my buddy, trying to stay in shape for a half marathon. We hit the two mile mark we had an old van come up from behind us and passed us up and went another 40 feet or so. The next thing I saw shock me internally. An old man, he looked almost homeless, got out of the driver’s seat and went to the back of the van. He opened the back door and forced two dogs out of the van. He then took off and left the dogs behind. We saw the dogs out there for the next week before animal shelter was called and they were picked up.
Next story, I was on a long run out in the pits and running down a long forested road. I saw ten turkeys in the road. I started to laugh as I a thought came into my mind. I ran full speed at them screaming and scaring them all off. They flew, or should I say glided, down into a gully on the left side of the road. All of a sudden I heard noises to my right. I looked up the hill on my right and saw fifteen or more turkeys flying right at me. I continued to run down the road as the turkeys chased me. It took a couple of minutes but then they decided I wasn’t worth the effort.
A later run on the same road brought me to see something dangerous. First a little more detail is needed to be known about where I’m from. My county had the highest rate of meth users in the US. The surrounding counties were pretty high too. Where I run at is out in the river bottoms. I can run for hours and not see a vehicle. As I ran down the road I kept a constant pace of about 6:00 minute mile pace. It was my first long run in a couple weeks so I wanted to hit it hard. On this road you would have small hills and at the crest of each hill you could see the next crest. The road was surrounded by a dense forest. I finally made it to about fifty minutes out, ten more minutes and I can start my way back. As I hit the next crest o stopped dead in my tracks. There, 200 meters away, was two men talking to each other. One wore a black shirt the other a white shirt. I was stunned. There wasn’t any vehicle in sight, at least not on this side of the crest. I have ran this road for years and never saw anyone else on foot and only a few vehicles. Then the men shook hands. That is when I said enough is enough and I turned around and started back. When I did this one of the men took off and started running towards me. There wasn’t going to be any way he was going to catch me. There was about two miles of road that I had to travel to hit a four way intersection. I thought that if I made it to there then I would be able to lose who ever was chasing me. I ran fast, probably 5:30 pace or faster. I was about 100 meters away from the intersection when I heard it. It was an old white trash car, think old Ford LTD style. The car was barreling down the road in my direction and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to lose him now. I prepared myself to be in a fight as I hit the intersection and turned left up a large hill. He then slowed down and stared at me as he passed. I did the country thing and waved hello as he passed. He returned it and took off. The thing that scared me the most was that when I looked into the back seat of his car he had a humungous rotweiler there. I think I saw a drug deal go down and luckily I decided not to go any further than what I did, people have been killed for seeing stuff like that.
Turkeys weren’t the only animals I came into contact with on a run out in the pits. I remember one run when I saw an entire pack of coyotes in a field. Now it isn’t too strange to see coyotes out here but an entire pack moving across an open field at 3:00 in the afternoon was pretty strange. They were yelping and barking as they crossed the field. There must have been 10 or 15 of them. I also came across two different cats. The first one was a bobcat. Now any cat like this is hard to come by were I’m from and when I saw it I only could stop and take in the beauty of it. He stood there very casually and looked at me for a couple of minutes and then took off. The next cat was a cougar. I was running hard up a hill and heard something moving in the woods next to the road. I stopped and saw a tail and back end of a cougar. A little freaked out, I stopped turned around and started walking back towards my truck. My truck was about three miles away. I walked for a good quarter mile and then started running when I was surrounded by open fields.
About four years after this first encounter with a cougar I came back to my hometown for a few weeks. I went out for a run. I wasn't in the same shape that I was back then but just trying to enjoy the little time of being back home that I had. The location of this run was probably a good 5 or 6 miles away from my original location. I was a few miles into the run and seen something crossing the road. I picked it up because I thought it was a deer. As I got closer I then realized that it wasn't a deer as it wasn't tall enough and way too big to be a deer. I got even closer, I seen it wasn't alone. There it was, about 100 meters away, a cougar and her cub crossing the road. I waited a few minutes before running forward to the place where she crossed the road. I wasn't worried about being attacked; there was a open field on one side of the road that went for a half mile and a little field about 100 meters and then the treeline of the forest. I stopped looked around to see if I could see them, no luck. I did see some pretty nice sized tracks crossing the road.
The Road with a Broken Heart
Years ago I was a real runner. A man who wanted to train for ultra marathons and other hardcore races. I had no fear of not finishing, I was young, I was stupid. All of my “running” life I ignored the obvious truth behind my limitations, I knew what my body could do and what it couldn’t do, but I kept pushing it, trying to break it during every run. I fully understood that I am no longer that guy with the full beard and long hair who ran only to run, I am no longer the kid in college trying to prove to the world that I am not worthless. I understand these things. But it is hard to let go of that mindset. It was a way of life for me, I craved the run… I needed the run. It was how I expressed myself, like an artist painting on a canvas, a writer starting on a blank tablet. It was who I was, who I am.
Years before the present, I was a hardcore runner. I ran 90 or more miles a week. My track event was the 10,000 meter. I lived for it. I wasn’t the best, but not the worst. I was in the middle somewhere. I tried to train harder so that I could taste victory, to feel what a winner felt like… my day never came. To truly understand who I was back then you would have to know how I trained. I ran two a days 5 times a week and two long runs on the weekends. I ran 5 miles in the morning and anywhere between 7 to 12 miles at night. I ran all my runs as hard as I could. Some said that I ran too hard for too long and that I was going to get burnt out. I ran my “long runs” at seven minute mile pace and ran upwards of 18 to 20 miles. I trained hard and ate only healthy foods and got eight hours of sleep a night. My resting heart rate was under 42 beats per minute and my VO2 Max was near 65. Some would say that I was addicted to running, I wasn’t though. I was addicted to what running made me feel like. Nothing felt better than the feeling of full muscle failure, knowing that your body is getting ready to shut down and all you can do is continue to run. I was obsessed with it.
My obsession turned to ultra marathons. The idea sprang into my head when I was having a discussion with a former coach. He said that I probably would be pretty good at them. He said I had the right build and the right muscle fibers. I was an long distance runner already I just needed to make the transitions to longer long runs on trails. After training for a couple months I was running two super long runs on the weekends with a healthy base during the week. On Saturday after work I would run 20 to 25 miles, and on Sunday afternoon I ran 30 or more miles. The first time I hit 30 miles I felt the run pulsate through my body after I finished… this was going to be fun. I was probably running over 100 miles some weeks but I didn’t really keep track of my runs that well. Most trail runs were from experience of what pace I was running at and for how long, sometimes I had a GPS watch on.
Years before the present, I was a hardcore runner. I ran 90 or more miles a week. My track event was the 10,000 meter. I lived for it. I wasn’t the best, but not the worst. I was in the middle somewhere. I tried to train harder so that I could taste victory, to feel what a winner felt like… my day never came. To truly understand who I was back then you would have to know how I trained. I ran two a days 5 times a week and two long runs on the weekends. I ran 5 miles in the morning and anywhere between 7 to 12 miles at night. I ran all my runs as hard as I could. Some said that I ran too hard for too long and that I was going to get burnt out. I ran my “long runs” at seven minute mile pace and ran upwards of 18 to 20 miles. I trained hard and ate only healthy foods and got eight hours of sleep a night. My resting heart rate was under 42 beats per minute and my VO2 Max was near 65. Some would say that I was addicted to running, I wasn’t though. I was addicted to what running made me feel like. Nothing felt better than the feeling of full muscle failure, knowing that your body is getting ready to shut down and all you can do is continue to run. I was obsessed with it.
My obsession turned to ultra marathons. The idea sprang into my head when I was having a discussion with a former coach. He said that I probably would be pretty good at them. He said I had the right build and the right muscle fibers. I was an long distance runner already I just needed to make the transitions to longer long runs on trails. After training for a couple months I was running two super long runs on the weekends with a healthy base during the week. On Saturday after work I would run 20 to 25 miles, and on Sunday afternoon I ran 30 or more miles. The first time I hit 30 miles I felt the run pulsate through my body after I finished… this was going to be fun. I was probably running over 100 miles some weeks but I didn’t really keep track of my runs that well. Most trail runs were from experience of what pace I was running at and for how long, sometimes I had a GPS watch on.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Back on Track; Random Thoughts
Well I have been off the road for quite some time. I am getting really out of shape to what I was just a year ago. One year ago I was training for an ultra marathon. I had my weekend runs up to 25 miles on Saturday and 35 miles on Sunday both around seven minute per mile pace. I set some goals for myself; one is to run a sub 60 minute 10 miler and the other is to be able to go at least 25 miles again.
Well, after many months of not running like I should’ve I’ve decided to start the training once again. I’m kind of nervous to see exactly where my body’s current fitness level is at, but in the end I knew I had to start this again. It is kind of strange to think that a year ago I was training for a 50 mile ultra marathon and that two and three years ago I was in the best shape of my running life, running 90 mile weeks and surviving cruel speed workout sessions. I will finally see what my body is capable of after putting up with so much punishment. I can hardly wait…
Thoughts of my old college cross country t-shirt comes to mind when I think of the state of my running condition is in; “Seven days without running makes one weak,” Oh crap this is going to hurt.
I fully understand that I am no longer that guy with the full beard and long hair who ran only to run, I am no longer the kid in college trying to prove to the world that I am not worthless. I understand these things. But it is hard to let go of that mindset. It was a way of life for me, I craved the run… I needed the run. It was how I expressed myself, like an artist painting on a canvas, a writer starting on a blank tablet. It was who I was, who I am. If they where to write the story of my life a large chapter would be on my realizations while running. I screamed out to God asking Him for answers of things I didn’t understand why. Not running, pardon my language, made me feel like a worthless piece of shit. Sure people where impressed with what I did, but it wasn’t about what I did, but rather what I could do. After running I felt more intelligent because my thoughts where clear and not all cluttered around in my brain. It made me feel like a normal person.
Well, after many months of not running like I should’ve I’ve decided to start the training once again. I’m kind of nervous to see exactly where my body’s current fitness level is at, but in the end I knew I had to start this again. It is kind of strange to think that a year ago I was training for a 50 mile ultra marathon and that two and three years ago I was in the best shape of my running life, running 90 mile weeks and surviving cruel speed workout sessions. I will finally see what my body is capable of after putting up with so much punishment. I can hardly wait…
Thoughts of my old college cross country t-shirt comes to mind when I think of the state of my running condition is in; “Seven days without running makes one weak,” Oh crap this is going to hurt.
I fully understand that I am no longer that guy with the full beard and long hair who ran only to run, I am no longer the kid in college trying to prove to the world that I am not worthless. I understand these things. But it is hard to let go of that mindset. It was a way of life for me, I craved the run… I needed the run. It was how I expressed myself, like an artist painting on a canvas, a writer starting on a blank tablet. It was who I was, who I am. If they where to write the story of my life a large chapter would be on my realizations while running. I screamed out to God asking Him for answers of things I didn’t understand why. Not running, pardon my language, made me feel like a worthless piece of shit. Sure people where impressed with what I did, but it wasn’t about what I did, but rather what I could do. After running I felt more intelligent because my thoughts where clear and not all cluttered around in my brain. It made me feel like a normal person.
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