The Soft American

The following article was written by President-elect John F. Kennedy for Sports Illustrated in December of 1960. It requires no introduction or commentary, although I have underscored a few passages that I find particularly stirring. It is, quite simply, one of the most inspiring and prescient things I have ever read. 

Beginning more than 2,500 years ago, from all quarters of the Greek world men thronged every four years to the sacred grove of Olympia, under the shadow of Mount Cronus, to compete in the most famous athletic contests of history—the Olympian games.

During the contest a sacred truce was observed among all the states of Greece as the best athletes of the Western world competed in boxing and foot races, wrestling and chariot races for the wreath of wild olive which was the prize of victory. When the winners returned to their home cities to lay the Olympian crown in the chief temples they were greeted as heroes and received rich rewards. For the Greeks prized physical excellence and athletic skills among man’s greatest goals and among the prime foundations of a vigorous state.

Thus the same civilizations which produced some of our highest achievements of philosophy and drama, government and art, also gave us a belief in the importance of physical soundness which has become a part of Western tradition; from the mens sana in corpore sano of the Romans to the British belief that the playing fields of Eaton brought victory on the battlefields of Europe. This knowledge, the knowledge that the physical well-being of the citizen is an important foundation for the vigor and vitality of all the activities of the nation, is as old as Western civilization itself. But it is a knowledge which today, in American, we are in danger of forgetting.

The first indication of a decline in the physical strength and ability of young Americans became apparent among United States soldiers in the early stages of the Korean War. The second came when figures were released showing that almost one out of every two young American was being rejected by Selective Service as mentally, morally or physically unfit. But the most startling demonstration of the general physical decline of American youth came when Dr. Hans Kraus and Dr. Sonja Weber revealed the results of 15 years of research centering in the Posture Clinic of New York’s Columbia-Presbyterian Hospital—results of physical fitness tests given to 4,264 children in this country and 2,870 children in Austria, Italy and Switzerland.

The findings showed that despite our unparalleled standard of living, despite our good food and our many playgrounds, despite our emphasis on school athletics, American youth lagged far behind Europeans in physical fitness. Six tests for muscular strength and flexibility were given; 57.9% of the American children failed one or more of these tests, while only 8.7% of the European youngsters failed.

A Consistent Decline

Especially disheartening were the results of the five strength tests: 35.7% of American children failed one or more of these, while only 1.1% of the Europeans failed, and among Austrian and Swiss youth the rate of failure was as low as .5%.

As a result of the alarming Kraus-Weber findings President Eisenhower created a Council on Youth Fitness at the Cabinet level and appointed a Citizens Advisory Committee on the Fitness of American Youth, composed of prominent citizens interested in fitness. Over the past five years the physical fitness of American youth has been discussed in forums, by committees and in leading publications. A 10-point program for physical fitness has been publicized and promoted. Our schools have been urged to give increased attention to the physical well-being of their students. Yet there has been no noticeable improvement. Physical fitness tests conducted last year in Britain and Japan showed that the youth of those countries were considerably more fit than our own children. And the annual physical fitness tests for freshman at Yale University show a consistent decline in the prowess of young American; 51& of the class of 1951 passed the tests, 43% of the class of 1956 passed, and only 38%, a little more than a third, of the class of 1960 succeeded, in passing the not overly rigorous examination.

Of course, physical tests are not infallible. They can distort the true health picture. There are undoubtedly many American youths and adults whose physical fitness matches and exceeds the best of other lands.

But the harsh fact of the matter is that there is also an increasingly large number of young Americans who are neglecting their bodies—whose physical fitness is not what it should be—who are getting soft. And such softness on the part of individual citizens can help to strip and destroy the vitality of a nation.

For the physical vigor of our citizens is one of America’s most precious resources. If we waste and neglect this resource, if we allow it to dwindle and grow soft then we will destroy much of our ability to meet the great and vital challenges which confront our people. We will be unable to realize our full potential as a nation.

Throughout our history we have been challenged to armed conflict by nations which sought to destroy our independence or threatened our freedom. The young men of America have risen to those occasions, giving themselves freely to the rigors and hardships of warfare. But the stamina and strength which the defense of liberty requires are not the product of a few weeks’ basic training or a month’s conditioning. These only come from bodies which have been conditioned by a lifetime of participation in sports and interest in physical activity. Our struggles against aggressors throughout our history have been won on the playgrounds and corner lots and fields of America.

Thus, in a very real and immediate sense, our growing softness, our increasing lack of physical fitness, is a menace to our security.

However, we do not, like the ancient Spartans, wish to train the bodies of our youth to make them more effective warriors. It is our profound hope and expectation that Americans will never again have to expend their strength in armed conflict.

But physical fitness is as vital to the activities of peace as to those of war, especially when our success in those activities may well determine the future of freedom in the years to come. We face in the Soviet Union a powerful and implacable adversary determined to show the world that only the Communist system possesses the vigor and determination necessary to satisfy awakening aspirations for progress and the elimination of poverty and want. To meet the challenge of this enemy will require determination and will and effort on the part of all American. Only if our citizens are physically fit will they be fully capable of such an effort.

For physical fitness is not only one of the most important keys to a healthy body; it is the basis of dynamic and creative intellectual activity. The relationship between the soundness of the body and the activities of the mind is subtle and complex. Much is not yet understood. But we do know what the Greeks knew: that intelligence and skill can only function at the peak of their capacity when the body is healthy and strong; that hardy spirits and tough minds usually inhabit sound bodies.

In this sense, physical fitness is the basis of all the activities of our society. And if our bodies grow soft and inactive, if we fail to encourage physical development and prowess, we will undermine our capacity for thought, for work and for the use of those skills vital to an expanding and complex America.

Thus the physical fitness of our citizens is a vital prerequisite to America’s realization of its full potential as a nation, and to the opportunity of each individual citizen to make full and fruitful use of his capacities.

It is ironic that at a time when the magnitude of our dangers makes the physical fitness of our citizens a matter of increasing importance, it takes greater effort and determination than ever before to build the strength of our bodies. The age of leisure and abundance can destroy vigor and muscle tone as effortlessly as it can gain time. Today human activity, the labor of the human body, is rapidly being engineered out of working life. By the 1970’s, according to many economists, the man who works with his hands will be almost extinct.

Many of the routine physical activities which earlier Americans took for granted are no longer part of our daily life. A single look at the packed parking lot of the average high school will tell us what has happened to the traditional hike to school that helped to build young bodies. The television set, the movies and the myriad conveniences and distractions of modern life all lure our young people away from the strenuous physical activity that is the basis of fitness in youth and in later life. 

Now is the Time

 Of course, modern advances and increasing leisure can add greatly to the comfort and enjoyment of life. But they must not be confused with indolence, with, in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, “slothful-ease,” with an increasing deterioration of our physical strength. For the strength of our youth and the fitness of our adults are among our most important assets, and this growing decline is a matter of urgent concern to thoughtful Americans.

This is a national problem, and requires national action. President Eisenhower helped show the way through his own interest and by calling national attention to our deteriorating standards of physical fitness. Now it is time for the United States to move forward with a national program to improve the fitness of all Americans.

First: We must establish a White House /Committee on Health and Fitness to formulate and carry out a program to improve the physical condition of the nation. This committee will include the Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare and the Secretary of the Interior. The executive order creating this committee will clearly state its purpose, and coordinate its activities with the many federal programs which bear a direct relation to the problem of physical fitness.

Second: The physical fitness of our youth should be made a direct responsibility of the Department of Health, Education and Welfare. This department should conduct—through its Office of Education and the National Institutes of Health—research into the development of a physical fitness program for the nation’s public schools. The results of this research shall be made freely available to all who are interested. In addition, the Department of Health, Education and Welfare should use all its existing facilities to attach the lack of youth fitness as a major health problem. 

Third: The governor of each state will be invited to attend the annual National Youth Fitness Congress. This congress will examine the progress which has been made in physical fitness during the preceding year, exchange suggestions for improving existing programs and provide an opportunity to encourage the states to implement the physical fitness program drawn up by the Department of Health, Education and Welfare. Our states are anxious to participate in such programs, to make sure that their youth have the opportunity for full development of their bodies as well as their minds.

Fourth: The President and all departments of government must make it clearly understood that the promotion of sports participation and physical fitness is a basic and continuing policy of the United States. By providing such leadership, by keeping physical fitness in the forefront of the nation’s concerns, the federal government can make a substantial contribution toward improving the health and vigor of our citizens.

But no matter how vigorous the leadership of government, we can fully restore the physical soundness of our nation only if every American is willing to assume responsibility for his own fitness and the fitness of his children. We do not live in a regimented society where men are forced to live their lives in the interest of the state. We are, all of us, as free to direct the activities of our bodies as we are to pursue the objects of our thought. But if we are to retain this freedom, for ourselves and for generations to come, then we must also be willing to work for the physical toughness on which the courage and intelligence and skill of man so largely depend.

All of us must consider our own responsibilities for the physical vigor of our children and of the young men and women of our community. We do not want our children to become a generation of spectators. Rather, we want each of them to be a participant in the vigorous life.

Jonah's Call to Conversion

When God saw by their actions how they turned from their evil way,

he repented of the evil that he had threatened to do to them;

he did not carry it out. 
-JON 3:10

Yesterday's Mass readings included a story from the book of Jonah that I found particularly interesting. While most homilies undoubtedly focused on the gospel reading (the calling of Simon and Andrew from the first chapter of Mark's gospel) my eyes kept going back to this line from the Old Testament.

In context: Jonah was sent to Nineveh by God to preach about the impending destruction that God intended to lay upon the city for their transgressions. He gave them 40 days to get their act together or else. And what did the people of Nineveh do?

They listened. They acted. The repented. And they were spared. This brought a couple of thoughts to my mind on a couple of different levels. First of all, street preachers are a dime-a-dozen these days. You can't throw a rock in a big city and not hit someone incited by religious fervor announcing the end times. For the most part, we walk by with hardly a glance. What made Jonah different? What words did this itinerant street preacher use to inflame the hearts of the occupants of this large city - words that cut through the clatter, the noise, and prompted them to change their ways? It must have been a pretty rousing speech!

On a more personal level, what I took from this story is that not all outcomes are already decided. Yes, God sees all ends. And yet that does not mean that all ends are predetermined. We can turn from our own transgressions and seek God's mercy. There are many days when I feel that my own outcome is already decided, and that I am chained to the mistakes that I have made. I believe that I am unworthy of mercy. I may even see no value in repentance.

Yet Jonah's words echo through the centuries to speak to us even today. It's not so much in what he said as the fruit that his words produced. I wish there were some record of how he moved the crowds to action but the fact is they WERE moved to action. It's challenging to me to ask myself if I am capable of such changes. Letting go of my own nature is very difficult and it's a battle I fight every day. I only hope that when the times comes for my judgement that God will see fit to withhold what I deserve.

Running Stuff

So there are only a few days before I embark on the last leg of the Tejas 300 trail series and have my second go at the Rocky Raccoon 100 mile. I've had a couple very good weeks of training and am feeling pretty good at this point. I've got all of the typical paranoia going on about phantom pains, aches, and illness, so I would say that it's a normal pre-ultra type of week for me. I'll work in a low intensity run today and some short intervals on Wednesday, and that will be it. I am slightly concerned that if anything I'll be coming into Rocky a little under-trained, as my mileage over the last month or so has been down for various reasons (Bandera 100k notwithstanding). I've heard that it's preferable to enter such an event under trained and rested rather than over trained and at risk for injury, so I am going to remain optimistic and allow the events of the next few days to unfold.

To be continued!

2015 Bandera 100k Race Report

"Tough times never last, but tough people do." - Robert Schuller

As I stepped out of my motel room in Kerrville, Texas in the early morning hours of January 10, I was greeted by a blast of cold air and a surprising sight - my car, parked just outside my door, was covered in a thick shell of ice. A winter storm had passed over the area the night before the Bandera trail races in central Texas, bringing with it a sharp biting wind and an abundance of frozen precipitation. I was aware of the weather forecast for the day and had planned accordingly, but I was holding out hope that the worst of the weather would pass by and spare the region from the arctic front. It didn't. After managing to chisel my way into my vehicle, fire up the heater, and load up my gear, I set out to begin my next trail adventure. Fortunately my 30 mile drive to the Bandera State Natural Area was uneventful as the roads were relatively clear and in good shape, giving me some quiet time to prepare for the day.

I arrived an hour before the start of the race to avoid the expected traffic delays along the dirt roads that led to the start line. Rain and sleet continued to fall as I walked to the start line at the Lodge. It seemed as if I had just left this place after finishing the Cactus Rose 100 back in October. The climate was certainly very different, as the oppressive heat had given way to freezing rain and bitter cold - but the layout of the starting and finishing area was exactly the same as I had left it a few months before. I noticed that much of the grounds were quite muddy and slick. Little did I know what this would foreshadow for the rest of my day. 

The buzz around the starting line of an ultra is something special. Everyone knows it's going to be a long day. Everyone knows it's going to hurt. Odds are that only about half of the folks who stood at the starting line of this race would actually finish it. Words of encouragement and good luck were exchanged, some eyes were closed in a last minute attempt to focus and prepare the mind, and perhaps a prayer or two were offered up. The tension was certainly palpable as 7:30 approached. In his typically understated fashion, race director Joe Prusaitis counted down from 10 to 1 and sent us off into the cold morning mist.

Loop 1 - 6 hr :10 min 

Bandera 100k is run for the most part on the same trails that Cactus Rose 100 utilized through the heart of Bandera State Natural Area. There are a few slight changes that are made to accommodate this race; namely, a few of the climbs are arranged differently and there are some longer, flat stretches that are somewhat more runnable. But for the most part I would be scrambling up and down many of the same rocks and hills that I "enjoyed" so much back in October. Most of the runners who have run or who want to run are very familiar with the course profile chart:

The famous Bandera course profile

I was off and running. While I was proud of my planning and preparation for the weather, the several layers that I had employed to fight the morning chill quickly became cumbersome and uncomfortable. I had picked up a poncho to wear over my jackets to keep the rain and sleet at bay, but within a couple of miles, the sotol had sliced it to ribbons. While I did not find the early climbs over Sky Island and Ice Cream Hill to be particularly difficult in terms of footing, I had worked up quite a sweat and was eager to make a wardrobe correction at the first opportunity. I cruised into Nachos, the first aid station, ready to begin removing layers. Despite some lost time in rearranging my gear and ditching the shredded poncho, I was actually glad to feel some of the cooler air hit me. I left the first aid station with my music going, my load lessened, and feeling ready to attack the day.

The only problem was that I was soon going to find myself the one under attack. Leaving Nachos, the course turns to what should be the flatter, less technical stretches of trail that would allow for some easier running. Rocky climbs and descents gave way to fields and valleys that had, unfortunately, become the final resting place for much of the rain and ice that had fallen over the previous day and night. The dirt had become transformed into a muddy morass. 

Every report from this year's race will refer to the mud. It made this race very frustrating for me. There were actually even several different types of mud on the trail - thick, sticky mud that cake your shoes and add weight to each step, wet mud that would slosh underfoot, mud that I would refer to as "axle grease" that coated the rocks later in the race on climbs and descents...it was all in play, all day long. For the first few miles it wasn't a problem, but with each passing mile my frustration would grow as I found myself completely unable to find any running rhythm at all. 

Not fun.

The time goals that I had hoped to achieve on this day quickly evaporated. It did not take long before I had to reassess what I hoped to accomplish out there. As the weight of the mud would build on my shoes and my foot strikes became more and more awkward with each step, I could feel the added stresses being placed on my hips, my hamstrings, and most importantly, my back. My focus soon changed to injury avoidance as I tried to hold onto a hope that I could make it out of here in one piece.

On a positive note, the chilly air was a very pleasant break from the usual heat that had been a part of every other ultra that I have run. During most of the day, temperatures were hovering around the freezing mark with some occasional mist, light rain and sleet. I wasn't that worried about dehydration and was able to easily stay on top of my nutrition through a blend of Tailwind powder, Stinger waffles, and the occasional light snack at an aid station. I stayed away from heavy foods and benefited  from this strategy. I cruised through the next 2 aid stations, Chapas and Cross Roads 1, feeling good but knowing that the tightness and fatigue that had begun to creep into my legs and back were not a good sign.

Trying to stay positive!

Not long after the "Three "Sisters" hills I heard a familiar voice behind me call out my name as my friend Josh came bounding down the trail. He appeared to be having a great day and was absolutely buoyant. (If he wasn't, he certainly had me fooled.) It was an emotional lift for me to see him out there, and while we ran together for only a few miles - into and out of Cross Roads 2 - I was glad to have the company. Most of my first loop was run in solitude so I was grateful for the conversation and his positive outlook. (He went on to have a great race, finishing in just over 13 hours.) The good feelings would carry me for a few more miles until I hit what would be the most difficult stretch of trail I had yet experienced - about a 3/4 mile stretch of dense, sticky, soul-sucking mud that would lead into the Last Chance aid station at mile 26. 

By the time I reached Last Chance, I was mentally and physically spent again. I needed another boost. Luckily for me, this aid station is known for being one of the best at providing such a lift. They had some great music playing, great people who jumped into action, and best of all, whiskey! So after a water bottle refill, a hug from the volunteers, a pat on the back, and a shot of whiskey, I was jubilant again - and ready to tackle the last 2 big hills on this loop, Cairn's Climb and Boyles Bump.

The last 5 miles of my first loop were technical, muddy, and slow, but I felt like I was making decent progress over many a rock and root. Much of the mud here was of the slick variety so the concern became staying upright as my feet could easily slide out from under me at any moment. A recurring thought throughout my day was my amazement at the runners who could negotiate this terrain successfully, and my ongoing frustration at my own complete inability to do so. I plugged along however, and emerged from the trail and back into the Lodge in a little over 6 hours. I had no intention of dropping out. Yet I knew I still had a long way to go. Little did I know how much longer it would be.

Loop 2 - 9 hr


I tried not to spend too much time at Lodge, but I did allow myself a few minutes for a snack, a quick chat with friends, and even a few sips of an Amber IPA. I almost ran back out without my headlamp, but caught myself before I made it too far down the trail and came back to grab my light. I knew I had no chance of finishing before nightfall, and without a headlamp, I would be in a tough spot when darkness came. Now that I was properly geared up and refueled, it was time to go.

The climbs back up and over Sky Island and Ice Cream Hill were a bit more challenging the second time around. The trail showed the obvious wear and tear of a few hundred runners who had charged up and over it for the past several hours. The accumulated fatigue was still an issue for me, as I struggled particularly in my descents on the back sides of these hills. Company was sparse, but when I did meet up with other runners for short periods of time, I would enjoy a few minutes of conversation until ultimately our paths would separate for one reason or another. I spent some time with another local friend of mine, Reece, who passed me at around mile 36. He was making short work of the more technical stretches of trail. Before long, I could not maintain his pace on the hills and he pushed on ahead, looking strong.

Reece presses on...

"People are always good company when they are doing what they really enjoy."   -Samuel Butler

Not much farther up the trail, I came upon a couple of guys who seemed to be in lock-step with each other. I assumed that they were a runner/pacer tandem given the ease with which they conversed and the similarity in their gait and pace, but this was far from the truth; in fact, Wes and Luis had only met at the halfway mark and had been running together since that point. 

What followed was what was easily my favorite stretch of running for the day. Not only was Luis an excellent runner, smooth and steady, but his positivity was infectious. Wes and I talked about our up and down day, but Luis kept pulling the best out of us. We ran when we didn't think we could, fought through the mud with a smile, and high-fived after every tough stretch of trail we overcame. [Luis was a film maker from San Francisco, whose love letter to the Marin Headlands entitled "For The Love" brings back wonderful memories of my race there last May.] We talked about forests, trails, Yellowstone, San Francisco, and so many other wonderful subjects that the time seemed to pass by effortlessly. One of our conversations centered around food (it usually comes back around to that at some point during a race like this) and we shared our desire for a hot quesadilla at the next aid station, Cross Roads 1, in a mile or so. I hadn't had any cooked food outside of some broth all day, so something warm and substantial sounded like a nice break from my cold bottle of Tailwind and frozen Stinger waffles.

We cruised into Cross Roads 1 (mile 47) elated, having run much of the preceding 2-3 miles into the aid station together. We checked in, grabbed some of the warm food we had been dreaming about earlier, and took stock of our current situation. Luis was thrilled to see his brother working at Cross Roads. He committed to run the final 10 miles with Luis when he came back around through here later, which served to put an extra spring in his step. Darkness had begun to fall as we jogged out into the night.

It did not take long for me to realize that my snack at the aid station was a very bad decision. My stomach turned on me within a mile or 2 of leaving Cross Roads, and despite Luis and Wes's accommodating attitudes, I was finding it hard to keep up. I would fall back, catch up, then fall back again. As we approached Cross Roads 2 I realized I hadn't taken in ANY calories since my previous stop at this aid station. I had to stop here and get myself settled. Luis was jubilant as he and his brother prepared to head out. I really regret not being able to run it in with them. I had a great time with those guys and was looking forward to continuing on with them, but I needed to collect myself for a few minutes and try to eat something. Luis gave me an encouraging word and they set off. After some ginger ale and papaya enzymes (thanks again Aaron) I finally managed to get up and get moving. I was shivering as I headed off into the night alone. I had 10 miles to go.

Trail Runner at Night.

My last leg of the race seemed to take an eternity to complete. The rains had come again during my delay at Cross Roads 2, so now every inch of the trail was drenched. There were several stretches that actually had streams of water running down them, and those that didn't were nonetheless caked and chewed up by the passing of dozens of runners throughout the day. It was tough sledding. I wished again that I had foregone that accursed quesadilla so I could have kept pace with Luis, his brother, and Wes, whose company I would have very much appreciated during this last long march to the finish. My stomach had settled somewhat but I was still having difficulty taking in enough calories to keep me energized. 

When I finally reached the last aid station at mile 57, I thought I had seen the worst that the course had to offer. I had fought mud, cold, hunger, solitude, wardrobe malfunctions, rain, loneliness, sleet, and more mud. I had a couple of rocky climbs left to go and could sense the finish line nearby. I knew that I was going to make it, thinking that there wasn't anything else that I could see that I hadn't seen yet. Sadly, this was not the case.

The fog rolled in as I climbed Cairn's, the first of the 2 big hills on the final section of the course. It was so dense that my visibility was reduced to maybe 10-15 feet. Beyond that, all I could make out was a solid wall of white mist. I could not see the trail or trail markers until I was right in front of them. I navigated the trail by looking straight down into the mud to follow the footprints left by runners who had already passed that way. I tried to pick up the pace to a slow run on more than one occasion, only to run nearly headlong into a low-hung tree branch that was hidden in the haze or lose my balance on a slick rock buried in front of me.

"Relentless Forward Progress." This was my mantra as I pressed on, and finally found my way back to the home stretch. I ran the last mile or so with a fellow from Virginia. We lamented our day and our current physical state but eagerly anticipated the approaching finish line. We were euphoric as we entered the staging area near Lodge, and late into the night, we finally crossed the finish line. I was elated to receive my finisher's buckle from Joe Prusaitis himself. My day was done and now it was time to find my friends and savor the moment.

Reece, Josh, and the author.

Bandera 100k Buckle.

My initial concerns about daily writing have unfortunately borne themselves out, as unfortunately the time available to write has not been as abundant as previously hoped. Given that I spend much of my day plugged in to computer screens and the various other implements of the information age it has been hard for me to rationalize spending my "free" time staring into my computer as well. There is a balance to be struck and over time I am sure that I'll figure it out. But for now, I will not be able to uphold my end of the bargain in the January write and run challenge. 

Incidentally, my aggressive racing schedule this month has also necessitated frequent rest days, meaning that outside of some occasional easy recovery runs and one or two training runs, I will be taking it easy to rest and recover in advance of Rocky Raccoon 100 at the end of the month. Saturday's effort was much more taxing than I had thought it would have been. I need to rest. And so, rest I shall.

My next post will be my race recap from the Bandera 100k. To be continued....

1-10-2015

Life events are going to keep me from providing much in the way of a decent post today. The bottom line is that after spending all day looking at a computer screen at work, I am not inclined to spend much time looking at one this evening! 

Today's run was a series of taper intervals on the treadmill. Just a 5 mile interval session to get the legs moving and work on my turnover. I am feeling quite good, and I am excited by the weather forecast for Saturday's race. Cloudy and cold....and it looks like any precipitation will be sporadic at best. Great conditions for Bandera.

Not too much longer now...

Bandera 100k Race Prep, Day 1

Local Roads & Trails, 8.34 mi, 1:10:44

Today I began the task of laying out and checking my gear for Bandera 100k next weekend. I am by nature an "over-packer", often displaying a tendency to overload myself in an attempt to prepare for every possible situation. For this one I am going to ease up a little bit. I know what works for me, what has worked in training, what I have and have not used in past races, and I am going to try to streamline things a little bit.

Some essentials will include:

• Battery powered USB recharger for my headlamp and phone
• Batteries for flashlight (backup)
• First aid kit (including band aids, vaseline, super glue, etc)
• Tailwind nutrition powder
• Scratch nutrition powder
• Nuun tablets
• Papaya enzymes (essential after my experience at Cactus Rose!)
• 2 Toms blister prevention powder
• Stinger waffles, and a few other assorted small snacks
• Endurolyte tablets

And that's pretty much it. I will carry most of my nutrition with me in an attempt to minimize aid station stops. I will limit drop bags to the Crossroads aid station, which we will pass through 4 times during the race, and Lodge, which will serve as our staging area. From a gear standpoint, I am considering my approach in the event of rain next weekend (currently standing at a 50/50 chance). My only concern here are my shoes. I do not have a pair that have significant tread on the bottom. If I am forced to navigate up and down steep, wet slopes, it could get interesting. Yet I am not inclined to don a brand new pair of shoes for an event of this duration. So I am going to go with my trusted Hokas and see what the day brings.

My race plan is pretty simple - 5 minutes max in the aid stations. That's it. In past events I have lost huge chunks of time to being parked in aid stations, whether as a result of dehydration, a poor nutrition plan, or some combination of the two. My thinking is that if I remain on top of my nutrition (~250 cal/hour) and continue to monitor my water and electrolytes I should be OK. I have an added advantage in that heat is not going to be a factor in this race. If I can do this, my finishing time should take care of itself.

I'll continue to review my plan and allow it to evolve as the week passes. It is not my intent to run this as a target race; instead, I am looking at this one as a supported long training exercise in preparation for Rocky Raccoon 100 later this month. Pacing, breathing, and hopefully a lot of smiling will be the order of the day. That's the idea, anyway.

“Smile, breathe and go slowly.” 

― Thích Nhất Hạnh

Today's run was a chilly 1 hour recovery run around town. A strong, bitter cold wind from the north made this one a bit uncomfortable, particularly when running north! Yet I felt good today and am pleased to head into my taper week with no physical issues or concerns. I think I may finally be nearing the end of the respiratory junk and am looking forward to many restful hours of sleep this week. 

Chance Encounters

Local roads and trails, 14.3 miles, 1:55:35

Trail running has introduced me to a number of things, from minimal drop shoes to gels to hydration packs. I've run in some pretty cool places and have had the good fortune to have enjoyed some incredible experiences. I've learned a lot about myself, my limits, and what it really means to push through tough times and dark places. These lessons have carried over into my daily life, as I have my own share of dark days and idiosyncrasies that I am trying to overcome. But by far, the most cherished part of trail running that I have enjoyed are the chance encounters with people out on the trail. 

Whether it's a passing conversation along some single track, a long hike on a tough day, or a training run with new people, I have learned that the trails are truly a special place populated by special people. It's funny how shared experiences can bring people together. There's a saying that what's said on the trail stays on the trail. Deeply personal conversations can be shared between people who may have just met a few hours (or miles) before. Some lifelong friendships are born and others are renewed. I have had the good fortune to share much with these good people, who have in turn taught me and strengthened me in ways that I cannot begin to recount.

2014 was indeed a blessing for me as I have experienced the gift of such friendship in many different ways. There are those with whom I shared one day, one run, one race. Our paths crossed that day, we experienced that moment together, then we moved on. Others have become very close friends of mine, with whom I have come to know on a much more personal level. But one thing that I have noticed is that our trail and ultra running community is a close-knit group, and it is much smaller than one would think.

I heard someone refer to our community of trail runners as "our little tribe". I liked the sound of that. Regardless of where we came from our how we got here, we all share a love of our trails, a love of the outdoors, and love the community that has grown around this crazy sport. We give a knowing nod when someone laments a certain injury and offer support when another is going through a tough time. We know, because we've all been there. 

Without a doubt, the one thing to which I look forward most in 2015 is the chance to share these moments on the trail again. To cross paths with new people. To share our stories. To laugh a little, to curse a difficult stretch of trail, and to carry each other when we think we can't go on by ourselves. It is a wonderful thing to experience. It is far more valuable to me than race outcomes, finish times, medals, or buckles. It is the joy of a shared moment that, were you to try to explain to someone outside of the tribe, would be impossible to articulate. 

Calvin and Hobbes, by Bill Watterson

Today's run was a chance to get some endurance work in, a 2 hour run with some easy surges. I kept the effort level on the down-low as I (hopefully) finish off this respiratory junk that has plagued me for the past couple weeks. I felt quite good, better than I expected, perhaps buoyed by the extra rest I have taken over the last couple weeks. As race week begins my runs will ease up dramatically over the next few days as my priority becomes recovery. More about my race planning tomorrow.

Breath

Treadmill, 2 miles, 16:01, followed by strength training

“Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor.” 

― Thích Nhất Hạnh, Stepping into Freedom: Rules of Monastic Practice for Novices

Breath.

It's something we all take for granted. The average person will take over 672,000,000 breaths in their lifetime. I doubt most of us give our breath much thought - our body does it without our paying attention to it. In fact most of us are only concerned about 2 breaths in particular - our first, and our last. (The fact that so many people willingly poison their precious breath dismays me - but I digress.)

I would like to say that I am a person who is conscious of my breath - that, in practicing my own brand of mindfulness, I often return to my breath and use it as a centering force in my life. Sadly, this is not the case. (Resolution??) Yet dealing with a minor chest illness has caused me to consider the importance of my breath. When a bout of coughing that is associated with this illness strikes, every breath becomes uncomfortable. This becomes especially unpleasant at the end of the day, when it's time to begin a time of rest and relaxation!

It seems that we often do not notice things about ourselves until they are taken away from us. Perhaps it's as simple as a sore hand or foot, causing difficulty in handwriting or walking. It may be more complex, in the case of an internal injury or illness that make anything painful. My discomfort is minor, but it illustrates an important point - nothing in life can be taken for granted because it is very easy to lose it, especially something so precious as one's health.

I'll venture more into this topic as my thoughts evolve, as it certainly deserves more consideration when I have a little more time. My run was short today, a simple 2 mile recovery on a treadmill followed by weighted chest and back exercises. 

New Year's Day and the Run That Shouldn't Have Been

Local Trail, 12.2 miles, 1:43:21

2015 was welcomed in North Texas with a wet, cold, gray morning that covered tree and trail in a thin, glass-like coating of shimmering ice. Each breath revealed a puff of vapor as I began an easy run down the street and out of my neighborhood. A local paved running trail is not far from my house, and within a few miles I was running alone on quiet paths as the rain fell quietly. My thoughts today fluctuated between the year that was and the year that was to come. I was not exactly living "in the moment," but New Year's Day certainly offers one a chance for some reflection.

The year that has passed saw many comings and goings, as it were. New friends and new experiences filled my heart with joy, as life continued to inspire and amaze at every turn - sometimes in very unexpected ways. And yet my heart remains heavy at the loss of family and friends, particularly relatives who passed away last year. Life is short, and while there are days that may seem to stretch forever, none of them should be taken for granted. Neither should the ones we care about. Today they are here, and tomorrow, they are gone. The passing of time only serves to remind me of this reality.

"Pal", 1930-2014.

And so with a mind swirling with images, emotions, and reflections, I trudged along, feeling the drops of cold rain and sleet against my cheeks. Needless to say, on more than one occasion I wondered why I wasn't curled up in front of a fire with my thoughts and a cup of hot lemon tea!

From a running and standpoint, the last few days haven't exactly been stellar for me. I've been fighting the affects of a respiratory illness that has slowed my training to a crawl. I have been able to get a few shorter runs in over the last week but my overall confidence in advance of the Bandera 100k has been on thin ice (so to speak). I had hoped to get another decent run in over the next few days, and hoped today that I could get a decent hour in - if nothing else, just to get myself moving again. But by all rights, I probably should not have been out running today. I was pleased that I felt better than I expected - my persistent cough had subsided, my legs felt much better than they did a couple days ago, and the cold, wet weather did not bother me as much as I had anticipated. 

My 8 mile run turned into 10, then 12 as my mind continued to sift through the memories of the past year. My breathing was easy, my pace comfortable, and with a grateful spirit I soon rounded back toward my home. Despite the adverse conditions it was a great way to kick off the year. There is much that I am looking forward to in 2015 as well - but that will be the subject of a future post. For now, I need to make that cup of lemon tea and head for the fireplace.


NOTE. I have accepted a January challenge to run and write every day, called the Write And Run 31 challenge. I'm looking forward to it! It'll be an added bonus as I track my preparation for Bandera 100k and Rocky Raccoon 100 later this month.

I am adding an element to this as well, and that is to spend a few minutes each day with God. Interestingly, as far as discipline in my diet and training routine are concerned, I seem to be pretty solid. Yet I tend to neglect other critical areas of my life, and none is this more evident than in nourishing my soul. I may comment on this in future posts, but for now, safe to say it is a third element of my January commitment. I hesitate to say "resolution," because right now I am just taking it one day at a time. Perhaps with some divine intervention it might actually stick this time!