I've been running since late January training for the Warrior Dash, which is exactly 10 days away. Over that time, I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing whatsoever that I like about running. Well, nothing except the feeling I have when I'm done. The rest of it I find boring and repetitive. Also, I'm not very good at it anymore. And that's hard to swallow. There was a time when I was a good runner, and there was a time when it did come easy. But those days are over, and now living with that fact it's a big, fat, nasty tasting pill to swallow.
I started running long distance in eighth grade. I tried the hurdles initially, but it took exactly one time of tripping and falling to convince me that wasn't a wise choice for me. Also, I was slow. Really slow. Getting from point A to point B when the distance in between was relatively short wasn't my specialty. So on to the longer runs I ventured. I settled on the 800 and the mile. At age 14, I came within seconds of breaking 5 minutes in the mile at the last meet. My coach convinced me to train and run all that summer because he evidently saw potential in me. So, that summer I did just that, running about six miles every night--twice around the Ashland town square. My freshmen year, the training paid off. I dipped well below 5 minutes in the mile, and I was on top of the world. Better, when I ran, it felt as if I was floating most of the time. It wasn't work. I didn't strain. I didn't tire. It didn't feel hard or exhausting. Some nights I felt like I could run forever. Some summer nights, when it was so quiet and warm and all that I could hear was my footsteps and the crickets singing and playing their music, I felt as if I was the only person alive. My favorite movie soon became "The Jericho Mile" and I found myself daydreaming about Peter Strauss and picturing myself running with him around that prison yard. Running was really the first thing that I felt like I was good at and that I could become very good out. And then, as happened with a lot of kids in a small town, I found beer. I still managed to run sub 5-minute miles my remaining years of high school, but running took a back seat in the spring time to socializing and staying out late. Looking back, I think what a shame it was. Who knows what could have happened if I would have had my head on straight?
I never ran with as much conviction and joy after those early years. Between 14 and 44, I've barely ran at all. Since January, though, I've run three times a week every week, and although I take pride in that, I haven't really enjoyed it much. The only aspect I do find rewarding is bettering a previous personal best time. In my case, that doesn't take much because my personal bests are pretty pathetic. In fact, they're embarrassing. But I'm persevering and hitting the trail every other day. Today, I ran the longest distance and time since I started running again, and I have to admit, it felt good. It didn't change the fact that my brain constantly taunted me by strongly suggesting "quit, man, quit," but I endured. On the big scale of running accomplishments, I realize mine rank well near the bottom compared to others, but I'm progressing, and who knows, maybe one day running will transform from something I have to grind through each time into something I look forward to. I'd really like to feel like I did back in my Peter Strauss days, sprinting 400s, having a kick, and my lungs full of life. For now, I'll settle for being a 44-year-old man getting back into the game, slowly and surely.
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