St Sebastian - Patron Saint of Runners & Athletes

Boston Bound

The Boston Marathon, circa 1938.

When I began my running journey back in the fall of 1999 at the Tennessean 5k in Brentwood, Tennessee, I think it is safe to say that I really had no idea what I was doing. I had only recently started to run and train regularly, having been inspired by watching several episodes of the Eco-Challenge Adventure Races on television, and feeling certain that it was my calling in life to do something like that. I showed up at the race adorned with a multi-bottle hydration belt, plenty of extra food for my 3.1 mile journey around the block, and the hope that I might be tough enough to finish the event. 

25 minutes later I crossed the finish line feeling triumphant. As my thoughts typically do, they quickly turned to "what's next". After I wrapped my mind around the idea that people could and do actually run farther than 3.1 miles - a concept that until recently had completely escaped my notice or care - I began to consider the idea of running a marathon. 26.2 miles - that magical distance inspires such reverence from the running community. It is universally appreciated by the fastest runners, who crowd the front of a race trying to get everything they can from their bodies, to the "back-of-the-packers," who are trying to overcome whatever mental or physical obstacle that would deter them from their goal. They're all living a dream in one way or another. Few events can equal the history and pageantry of the marathon. Finishing that 5k was satisfying in and of itself but what it primarily accomplished was to whet my appetite for bigger and better things. The 5k's became 10k's, then half marathons, and finally my first marathon in 2001. And after that, it wasn't long before I fixed my gaze to the northeast, to a town called Hopkinton and the prestigious Boston Marathon.

Several months and years worth of work, coaching, planning, and preparation produced a qualifying race last year. And so, 15 years after running that first timed race back in Tennessee, I have finally received the letter that I have long hoped would be in my future. It's the prized notification from the Boston Athletic Association that my application to the famed Boston Marathon has been accepted.

Due to a large number of applications this year there was no guarantee that I would get in, even though I had eclipsed my qualifying standard by almost 5 minutes. I was preparing mentally to have to go through the process of requalifying again should I not make the cut, even asking myself whether or not I would try given that my attention has turned almost exclusively toward ultramarathons. Yet Boston holds a level of mystique that is unmatched in the running world. The ultrarunner may look unfavorably at such a race, with its large crowds and over-the-top spectacle, preferring instead the long solitude of the trails. The beginning runner may look at Boston as being an unattainable pipe dream, with its stringent time standards and daunting course profile. Yet every runner must appreciate the history that this race embodies. It is one of the few races that occupies such a large place the public consciousness even outside of the running community.

This is indeed exciting news. I had thought in some of my races earlier this year that running Boston at this point in my life, after having completed several marathons and ultras over the years, might feel anticlimactic. I am pleased to report that this is not the case. 157 days from today, if all goes according to plan, I'll have the chance to live this dream and experience all that Boston has to offer. If that doesn't excite you as a runner, I don't know what will.

Since I have become indoctrinated in the culture of ultrarunning, I have heard a phrase bandied about that has given me pause. The phrase in question is "living authentically" - a concept which, at its core, basically means making choices in our everyday lives that reflect our "true" selves rather than doing things that are intended to satisfy some external end - impressing others, living up to another's expectations, etc. It is a far-reaching concept and one that I have been trying to incorporate into my own life for a while now; however, it has only been recently that I have come to discover a more complete, well-defined portrait of what this this idea actually represents. 

What is living authentically? Well when one searches the almighty Google, they are quick to discover a great multitude of psychoanalysis, bullet lists, and various other sites and blogs that offer a wide variety of answers to this question. They cut across the social spectrum and include the deeply religious, the minimalist, the educator, those conscious of race (and the place that the history of their race plays in their daily lives), the outdoorsman, and on and on. There are as many ways to live authentically as there are people on this planet and reading about some of these experiences (for those who choose to share) is very enlightening.

When I apply the question to myself, am I living authentically - that is, according to my core beliefs? I think in some areas yes, but in others no. I still have a lot of work to do on my part - don't we all? - but in asking the question I have discovered a number of ways in which I am NOT living according to the principles that I like to think are important to me. There are some obvious limits to the extent to which I can take this (the likelihood of me quitting my job and becoming a mountain dwelling, ultrarunning, organic gardener who plays various musical instruments, speaks several languages, and is a gourmet chef who travels the world is pretty small) but I think that authentic living can and should be a part of our lives as they are. 

What this means to me is that the direction of my life is far from set. It's both an exciting and somewhat disconcerting idea - while I am certainly an optimist, I have to wonder what if I am not able to bring about the positive changes in my life that bring me closer to these beliefs? What if I allow myself to continue to be driven by forces external to those that I would assign the highest importance? Can I allow myself to let go of the past and be present in the moment?

At the risk of sounding like a Steven Covey disciple, these things are important and require daily attention. I may not get there quickly, if ever, on some of my more ambitious objectives. But I can start the journey and see where it leads me. 

Hike to Isinlivi by Alex Vermeer

One step at a time.