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Showing posts with label Motivation & Inspiration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motivation & Inspiration. Show all posts

Monday, January 1, 2018

Looking Back on 2017, and Looking Ahead


2017 was certainly a year to remember. As the year draws to a close and a new year appears on the horizon, I've been reflecting on the highs and lows of the last 365 days. The year began with tremendous optimism and excitement over the prospects of my first trip to Western States and what would become my attempt at the Grand Slam of Ultrarunning. My training was balanced and thorough, my coach was fantastic, and I began the journey physically, mentally, and spiritually whole. I don't think I could have been in a better place.

And yet, despite these efforts, things didn't come together. Not entirely, anyway. I started all 4 races but only finished 2 of them. This could be seen as a great disappointment - and I am, in a sense, disappointed - but if we gauge success by transformation and self-improvement, then it's hard to imagine any endeavor achieving so great a personal success as my attempt at the Grand Slam. Between the friendships that were formed and strengthened over the miles, hours, and days spent on rugged trails in isolated places to the immense joy I experienced in the beauty of creation, I cannot harbor any sense of regret at the attempt.




Capping off 2017 with a successful run at Brazos Bend served to dispel any latent hangovers that may have been lingering about my very long summer. While I am certainly pleased with that result,  what will stay with me about that race was, again, the fellowship out on the trails that day. The outcome was secondary.

Who knows what 2018 will bring? The new year brings a clean slate with multitudes of stories yet to be written. There are mountains to be climbed, sunrises to be experienced, songs to be sung, and the joys of God's creation to be celebrated. For my part, it is gong to continue to be the joy I feel as a part of the running community and the friendships therein that inspire me. It's the exhilaration of movement, of being alive in the moment, of moving beyond what I or anyone else believed possible - pushing through dark places and persisting with the knowledge that life, like ultrarunning, is never easy.

But from what I have seen so far, the journey is definitely worth it.

Monday, August 14, 2017

Eye of the Hurricane



With the first two of the four Grand Slam races in the books, I'm now looking ahead to the back half of this thing while holding out hope (no pun intended) that I can still come home with 3 of the 4 buckles. Vermont went well, Western States not so much. Now I am left to ponder how my previous experiences might translate up in the thin Colorado air later this week. Obviously the altitude is a concern, but that is something that everyone is going to have to deal with. The weather looks like it will be decent but things can be very unpredictable in the mountains. So who knows?

I am going to stick pretty close to my Vermont nutrition strategy and make sure I stay with the plan all the way to the finish line. The dry air at elevation will necessitate a little extra focus on hydration, but I have been dialed in on that since I have been running in the Texas summer heat. Otherwise I am not going to worry too much about factors beyond my control. I just need to make sure I have provisions for whatever might come up. From a timing standpoint, in a perfect world I would like to be at Winfield (mile 50) by 3 pm. That would give me an 11-hour first half and allow plenty of time for the return trip. I think a more likely scenario would be hitting Winfield between 4 and 5 pm, but again I will just have to see how I feel and how the day unfolds. I don't think it will a bad idea to push the envelope on the flat stretches and the more runnable sections a little bit so I might be able to make up some time. If I can keep my heart rate low and keep the stomach in check, that is.

Life has been insanely busy for the past few weeks so I haven't had a lot of time to really think this race through. A hectic schedule this week will probably mean that I won't get much time to think about the race between now and when I leave for Leadville on Thursday either. I feel pretty certain that it won't hit me that I am running the...(deep breath)..."Blueprint For Athletes Lifetime Fitness Leadville Trail 100 Presented By New Balance [TM]"...(exhale)...until I cross the starting line at 4am on Saturday. After that, it's just a matter of grinding it out. I know what to do - I just need to go out there and do it. I am certain there are dozens, if not hundreds, of other runners stressing out about the race right now. At the moment, I am not one of them.

My #1 goal is to finish. Whatever it takes, I need to get back to Leadville on my own power. That will be easier said than done. At least I won't have to do it alone, as I will have a great crew and pacer there to help. They are ultra veterans, and my pacer, Berton, was a grand slammer last year. Their experience will be a tremendous asset. 100-milers are always difficult regardless of the terrain, and having someone there who knows what you are going through is priceless.

If I can make decent time heading outbound and then just keep moving when coming back I feel fairly certain that, barring injury, I can bring home a buckle. But as the saying goes, "that's why they play the game."

My next post will be my Leadville race report. Stay tuned.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Embracing the Suck


59 DAYS TO WESTERN STATES

For the past few weeks, I have been hashing and rehashing a number of possible scenarios for the 4 races of the Slam. I've been going over nutrition options, hydration options, rest, recovery, pacers, crew - you name it, I've thought of it. I've been trying to figure out how I can make this process as "painless" as possible.

Yesterday, while on a semi-long recovery run while on a business trip in Rochester, the thought came to me out on the trail that I am trying to avoid the inevitable. I am trying to make this experience "pleasant". I am hoping it will be "fun". But the bottom line is that, no matter how much I want this to NOT suck, here is the inescapable, unavoidable fact:

This is going to suck.

Sure there will be moments of ecstasy but I expect them to be interspersed between quite a bit of agony. In the words of the Angry Jogger himself, at some point (and probably at several points) along the way, things are going to go "tits up". The question I have to be able to answer is, what am I going to do then? Am I going to fight the good fight? Keep plugging along? Or allow that voice in the back of my head to talk me into dropping out, hoping that by some miracle I get another crack at this thing?

I have run several ultras now, and at some point in nearly every single one of them, things have gone terribly awry. I have powered through and finished most of them, dropped out of a few, but in every case I have looked back on the race wondering what I could have done differently to avoid the pain and the struggle. I've made a few changes here and there that have helped, but the bottom line is that the struggle is going to happen. It always has and it always will. It's coming, regardless of the level of preparation and training I put into this. So now, realizing this, what do I do?

Embrace the suck.

That's really all there is to it. The chances that I will get through one race, let alone four of them, without a mental and/or physical crash are beyond minuscule. When the darkness comes, I have to be prepared to go through it. There's a lot I could say about the redemptive power of suffering here, but I will save that for another post. Suffice it to say I should be quite redeemed by the end of this thing. Can I find joy in the difficulty? Gratefulness in the midst of darkness? Hope that I can go on when despair and doubt creep into my psyche?

There is no doubt that the physical challenges of these races will be immense, but I am beginning to realize that the real battles will be in my mind and soul. Would that I can at maintain my peace and joy while those battles rage on.


"The purest suffering bears and carries in it's train the purest understanding." 
-St. John of the Cross 







Thursday, January 19, 2017

The Mental Game


"...DETERMINATION ALONE IS NOT GOING TO GET YOU TO THE FINISH.
EVERYONE WHO STEPS TO THE GATE WILL BE DETERMINED AS HELL.
DETERMINATION IS A PRE-REQUISITE.
SUCCESS TAKES A LOT MORE THAN DETERMINATION."
 ----- LAZARUS LAKE


The iconic Lazarus Lake spoke these words when considering the guts and gumption of the few brave souls chosen to attempt his annual Barkley Marathons at Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee, widely regarded as the most difficult test of endurance running going today. So few have finished this event that some consider it nigh impossible. But some do finish Barkley. In considering the task before me, his words struck a chord as I considered the intestinal fortitude that I'll have to find to finish the Slam.

I would be lying if I didn't admit right off the bat that there are not only tiny seeds of doubt coursing through my subconscious when it comes to completing these 4 races, but fully grown fields and forests of the stuff. It's really not so much the distances involved. As Karl Meltzer famously said, "100 miles is not that far." My philosophy is pretty simple - one step at a time, one aid station at a time. Don't look too far ahead, stay in the moment, and keep moving forward. It's easy to say that now but I am all too familiar with the tendency to lose focus and start thinking about the "big picture" in the heat of the moment.

As I look at the races themselves, there is one that far and away causes my stomach to tighten in knots more than the others : Leadville. Much like its famed Hope Pass, that race stands as the towering roadblock in my quest to finish the big four. The complications Leadville presents to the aspiring sea-level-living finisher include the altitude, the relatively short time limit (30 hours), the altitude, Hope Pass itself, and - did I mention the altitude? Unfortunately I do not have the luxury of being able to take a 2-week hiatus from life to gallivant through the mountains acclimating myself to the low oxygen one tends to find at 9,000' elevation, so I am already at a stark disadvantage. I am unsure of the science (and turned off to the cost) of altitude tents. So planning for that race will occupy a disproportionate share of my attention. And just to add to my anxieties, Leadville happens sport the highest drop rate of the 4 races:

From an excellent blog post by Will Cooper: http://www.willrunlonger.com/2016/07/grand-slam-drop-rates.html

Don't think the irony of my being concerned about Leadville here in January is lost on me - even now, I am looking far ahead and not staying in the moment! It's so easy to fall into that trap and I haven't even toed a starting line yet. Right now the focus must be on some solid early-season base mileage, cleaning up my nutrition, working on some race-day fueling strategies in tune-up races, and - this is important - RELAXING. I need to trust that the plan will come together and take it one day at a time.


Memes are fun.

Getting back to Lazarus Lake's quote - so if it's not just resolve that separates the finishers from the wannabes, what, then, will it take to get this done? Surely many who fell short of their goal were determined. They were prepared. Trained. They had planned. And yet....things just didn't come together.

So, what am I going to do?

Be determined. Prepare. Train. Plan. And, most importantly....RELAX. If, by God's providence, I should make it to - and then, through - this experience, it'll be something I will look back on for the rest of my life. I'd do well to make sure I savor the adventure every step of the way.


"So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Matthew 6:34

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The Slow Burn....


Ryan Hall wins the 2007 Olympic Trials (photo: Runner's World)


33-year old American marathoner Ryan Hall has been a staple on the world distance running scene for the better part of a decade. Whether he was making waves with an amazing performance (setting the American half marathon record in 2007 at 59:43 or the second fastest time for an American born runner at 2:06:17 in 2008), a disappointing showing (DNF'ing at the 2012 Olympics in London and struggling in several races thereafter), or his unusual approaches to training (often approaching 200 miles per week in peak training while foregoing a traditional coach in favor of leaning on his religious beliefs for guidance), the conversation about whether an American could compete on the world stage against the best runners in the game would often start and end with him. 

Lately, however, his career has been more disappointment than accomplishment. Injuries have taken their toll on his body and the inability to live up to lofty expectations has no doubt left him mentally burned out. To make matters worse, he admits to dealing with the dreaded over training syndrome, characterized by chronic fatigue and exhaustion. Last month, Ryan announced his retirement from competitive running, much to the dismay of those of us who hoped that he would continue to challenge the world's elite for years to come and inspire a generation of young athletes to follow in his world-class footsteps. 


(photo: New York Times)

What caught my attention was how long Ryan has been struggling with his running. For all intents and purposes, his career was over at 30. The retirement announcement was merely a formality. It isn't unusual in professional sports for athletes to realize sizable declines in performance after the age of 30, but it does make me wonder what it must feel like for an exceptional young athlete to look ahead only to realize that he or she will never be able to live up to the accomplishments of their younger days. Professional sports are riddled with athletes looking to find the elusive fountain of youth and who will go to extreme lengths (whether legal or not) to maintain that level of ability. I understand why they do it, even though I don't always agree with how they do it. It must be a difficult reality to accept. 



In my case, I have never been nor will I ever be mistaken for anything remotely approaching an elite athlete. On a good day I may be age competitive in a local race, which gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment - but for the most part I race against myself. Running, as a hobby, fills a number of needs for me - it is an outlet for my competitive drive, it satisfies my desire to remain fit and active, it provides me with the hope that I can maintain an active lifestyle as I age, and most importantly, it keeps me as far away from the medical establishment as possible - but in the end, it's just that, a hobby. As much as I enjoy it, I have to do something else to pay the bills, and as such, my ability to spend any more of my time training and racing is limited.

One thing I will say, though, is that I still operate under the belief that my best days are ahead of me. Even now in my 40's, I still have the sense that I can train smarter, eat better, and race smarter than I did in my younger days. In fact, all of my current road-running PR's (personal records) have come since I crossed the 40 year-old threshold (marathon 3:08, half marathon 1:24:08, 5k 18:40). I hope to set at least new marathon and half marathon PR's this spring. And I am not even counting ultras because I didn't start running those until I was in my 40's - so I can only imagine a world of possibilities to improve in ultra distances!

It's tempting for us mid-packers to think "I wish I was that fast" or to wonder what it's like to run a 2:10 marathon. We don't think about the consequences to our bodies and our psyches to achieve such incredible results. For my part, I think I'll take the long, slow burn of longevity in the sport, and enjoy the small milestones of shaving off a few seconds or minutes here and there.

Neil Young once said "It's better to burn out than it is to rust." Maybe for some people, that's true, but in my case, a little rust (in the way of a gray hair here and there) looks just fine. 


40-year old Meb Keflezighi sets the standard for the rest of us master's runners to follow. (photo:www.aol.com) 

39-year old Rob Krar is setting the Ultra world on fire. (@RobKrar)
Run strong!

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Things are looking up!



I've got to admit it's getting better,
A little better all the time....
-The Beatles


I'm pleased to report that things are healing up nicely after the tough race of a couple weeks ago. The scratches and scrapes have almost disappeared, the aches and pains suffered at the hands of the rocks at Reveille Peak Ranch are healing up, and I've been able to resume challenging workouts again. This week saw most of my efforts focused on the treadmill as I have been working on climbing - incline workouts at 12% and higher, mainly hiking, but with a little running thrown in. I've been able to top 3,000' of climbing with each workout which has helped me from a mental standpoint in that I feel a little more prepared for the long climbs I'll face in Virginia. 

While my logistical preparations for the race are still in the early stages - I still have not decided on a nutrition plan, I am still collecting information about the aid stations, and as of now I do not have a pacer - I am at least starting to feel like I will at least approach the starting line rested and healthy. I'll pick up the mileage a bit this week and next, aiming for the 60 mile range before easing off on race week. There's not much I can do now except maintain my current level of fitness. There's no reason to risk getting injured or over trained while trying to cram in too many miles in advance of race day.

I made a comment to close my race recap at Reveille Peak Ranch that may have given the impression that I may not be completely confident in my abilities to rise to the occasion and meet this upcoming challenge. While I thought about editing it, I let it stand; the fact is, I don't exactly know how I am going to get there and back again. But I am working on it. Physically, I can do it. Mentally, I can do it. What it will come down to is a matter of working through the plan and showing up ready to let my body do what it knows how to do. To relax, remain in the moment, and grind it out. 

I've been reading over a few race reports and trail recon posts that go into some detail about the technicality of the course and the challenges of the frequent climbs and descents. I'll begin my preparations accordingly. I borrowed a couple of trail pics to add below. I look forward to taking some of my own pictures to tell the story of this amazing event. 

I'm excited about getting this process started! Or as Sherlock Holmes would say, "The game is afoot!!"

Wild Oak Trail. (valhallase.com)

Reddish Knob. (iseetrails.wordpress.com)

A breathtaking view of the Virginia mountains. (http://changultraadventures.blogspot.com/2014/10/grindstone-100-race-report-2014.html)





Friday, August 28, 2015

Climbing the Mountain

Digging deep. (www.mattmahoney.net)
A while back I offered a few thoughts on motivation - specifically, what is it that drives me and other like-minded idiots who seem to enjoy spending their free time running for hours and days upon end over mountains and through seemingly endless woods? Are we driven by recognition from others for our efforts? The thrill of it all? The swag? Or simply the personal satisfaction of pushing our own boundaries and accomplishing things that we once thought to be impossible?

I feel that most of my motivation is still extrinsic. As much as I hate to admit it, I am definitely an ego-driven individual. I consider internalizing my motivations to be an important step in my desire to let go of my own ego but it is certainly a journey that I am still on and seemingly far from completing. I recently came across a passage in the book "Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert Pirsig that struck me in which the narrator describes an experience involving a pilgrimage to a holy mountain in India. The subject of the story was in the company of devout pilgrims who were there to climb this mountain out of religious devotion, which he contrasted with his subject's own egocentric motivations:
"He never reached the mountain. After the third day he gave up, exhausted, and the pilgrimage went on without him. He said he had the physical strength but that physical strength wasn't enough. He had the intellectual motivation but that wasn't enough either. He didn't think he had been arrogant but thought that he was undertaking the pilgrimage to broaden his experience, to gain understanding for himself. He was trying to use the mountain for his own purposes and the pilgrimage too. He regarded himself as the fixed entity, not the pilgrimage or the mountain, and thus wasn't ready for it. He speculated that the other pilgrims, the ones who reached the mountain, probably sensed the holiness of the mountain so intensely that each footstep was an act of devotion,an act of submission to this holiness. The holiness of the mountain infused into their own spirits enabled them to endure far more than anything he, with his greater physical strength, could take.
To the untrained eye, ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical. Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other. Both breathe in and out at the same rate. Both stop when tired. Both go forward when rested. But what a difference! The ego-climber is like an instrument that is out of adjustment. He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late. He's likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees. He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he is tired. He rests at odd times. He looks up the trail to see what's ahead even though he knows what's ahead because he just looked a second before. He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else. He's here but he's not here. He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be further up the trail but when he gets there he will be just as unhappy because then it will be 'here'. What he's looking for, what he wants, is all around him, but he doesn't want that because it is all around him. Every step is an effort, both physically and spiritually, because he imagines his goal to be external and distant."
There is so much in this passage that I can identify with, both on the trail and, in a larger sense, my daily life. I have a feeling I am going to spend a good bit of time trying to unpack this passage for myself. I can appreciate its reinforcement of the idea of truly being "in the moment." As it relates specifically to my running experiences, I have noticed a marked difference between the days when I am running for glory and gusto versus the days when I am content to embrace the experience itself without expectation, accepting whatever lessons the day might bring. The former tends to be both physically and mentally exhausting, while the latter is actually invigorating and can even be restorative. 

Like I said, I could go on about the implications for this reflection in my "day-to-day" but I think I'll leave that for another post. I have trail races over the next 2 weekends that I am using as training runs for October's main event. Perhaps I can use these runs as preparation for the mind as well as for the body - as opportunities to work on releasing my ego, becoming more like those selfless climbers described above. 

I think I'll close with a thought from Thich Nhat Hanh, one of my favorite writers whom I have referenced many times before in my blog:



Cheers, and happy trails!

Sunday, August 2, 2015

8 Weeks to Grindstone


Tonight I clicked over to my training schedule for the week and my attention was immediately drawn to the header: "8 weeks to Grindstone."

To quote from the event's website: "Grit, endurance, temporary loss of sanity. You might need all of these if you want to attempt Grindstone. If you want to finish, well, just keep in mind this is, without a doubt, the hardest 100 miler east of the 100th meridian. Now that you’re hooked, Grindstone is going to be an incredible adventure for each and every entrant. From the beautiful start/finish location at Camp Shenandoah to the monster climbs and the solitude of single track ridge running, you just can’t beat Grindstone… but you can try!"

Gulp. I am happy to say that my training has been progressing quite well - I feel good, my weekly mileage has gradually increased over the past couple months from 40, to 50, 60, and now 70 mpw. I'll step it back this week to rest, then push on toward 80 and maybe even get to 90 before the tapering starts. And yet the voice in the back of my head is asking, "Is it enough?"

The challenge in preparing for this race is that, well, there really is no way for me to adequately prepare for this race. I can work on long slow climbs using a treadmill, but that won't simulate the extreme technicality of the course. I can get on some local fire roads that are steep and rocky, but they are very short and don't offer sustained climbs that will remotely resemble what I'll face on race day. 

All I can do in this case is prepare in the best way that I am able and bring whatever game I have to the race. It'll be an exercise in grit and determination, with a pinch or 2 of positive thinking thrown in for good measure. I'll have to remember the mantras: "Trust your training." "Have a plan and work your plan." "One step at a time." "Run your own race." 

They say the race itself is simply the end of a very long road that began with the start of this training cycle a few months ago. All the miles on the roads and trails, all the hours in the weight room, they all will bring me to that final 100 miles. It's just up to me to finish it. Would that I have the strength and perseverance to do so. 

Monday, July 20, 2015

A Story From The Sidelines at Muleshoe Bend - Drawing Inspiration, part II

This weekend I had the pleasure of working an aid station through the night at Captain Karl's 60k at Muleshoe Bend State Park in the Texas Hill Country outside of Austin. It's a night race in the same series as Pedernales Falls 60k (my personal racing nemesis) that kicks off just as twilight rolls in and the cicadas are at full volume. I have found that it's always a pleasure to give some of my time back to the sport because I always receive so much in return - as far as finding inspiration as a trail runner, there's no better place than an aid station in the middle of the night.

Case in point: a lady came through in the early morning hours roughly 27 miles into her 38 mile adventure. She wasn't moving quickly but her determination caught my attention. After filling her water bottles and helping her find some food, we found a quiet minute to talk about how her day (or rather, her night) was going. She talked about the stifling heat, how the rocks that had beaten her feet to pieces, and how a couple falls that had left her scraped and bruised. Her pace had slowed to little more than a brisk walk. And yet, her constant refrain was "But I'm not going to stop." She had made her mind up that be it a run, walk, or crawl, she was going to persevere. She would enjoy the starry sky, the calls of the animals in the forest, enjoy running along the lakeside at night, and take in the beauty that surrounded her. It was a gritty optimism that was shared by many a runner who passed through our little outpost that night, but somehow my chat with her struck a chord with me.

Trail runs of whatever distance are filled with rugged people and stories like hers, which is why being around them is so good for my soul. I have a tendency to rate an event by how I placed, or how I felt, or whether I hit this or that goal time. I do not often allow myself the chance to step back and look at the bigger picture. 

Being in amazing landscapes away from the bustle of urban and suburban life is a treat that comes along all to rarely in our lives these days. We're often plugged in, logged on, harried, trying to put out fires and meet our obligations. I'm certainly no different. I even commented to one of my friends at the aid station that I often forget how a sky blanketed in stars looks because I so rarely see it anymore. I need to remember that plugging in to nature and enjoying the company of like minded people is the real goal here. Perhaps I could even consider - perish the thought - slowing down to savor a moment on the trail rather than speeding up and worrying about a finishing time. 

I think the lady I met may have let me in on a little secret: that there is joy to be found in the good days and the bad days if you only know where to look. I think that if I can keep this in mind, I can learn to find even more enjoyment from these crazy little adventures on hill and trail.... 



Sunday, July 12, 2015

Hard Rock 100 - Drawing Inspiration, part I






This weekend saw the annual mountain race du-jour once again take center stage in the ultrarunning community, as the lucky few selected to compete in the Hard Rock 100 made their way through the San Juan Mountains of southern Colorado. I've been very fortunate to have had the opportunity to volunteer at this magnificent event for the past couple of years, and while it is my dream to one day toe the line myself, there are many days when such a dream seems almost impossible to imagine. Having been there, I have seen first-hand the ruggedness of those mountains. I've heard the stories of hypothermia, lightning strikes, animal attacks, sudden rock slides, frostbite, torrential rains, and altitude sickness that have befallen runners from the front of the race to the back. 

I wasn't able to be there in person this year but I was no less captivated by the stories that came out of Lake City, Ouray, Telluride, and Silverton. It seemed that this year, mother nature was more kind to the runners than she has been in the past - there was snow on many of the mountain passes, but otherwise the weather seemed cooperative. Course records fell, and whether it was the front of the pack or the back, we watched as one after another, athletes made their way around the 100 mile loop.

Whether I get my chance to step up in this event or not, simply the strength and resolve of each of these amazing people sets an example for the rest of us wannabe trail runners to follow. I tend to sell myself short, believing that I am not capable of stretching my limits. I listen to the voices in my head that tell me I'm not good enough, strong enough, fast enough. After years of being kicked to the curb by those who were better, stronger, and faster, the lingering doubts about my own abilities is a plague that eats away at my confidence - a plague that I have to confront each and every day.  

And then there are the Hard Rockers. Running 100 miles through the mountains is not for everyone, to be sure. But seeing these individuals - most of them men and women with families, jobs, lives outside of running - who have come to the mountains to test themselves reminds me that we can be more than the voices in our heads sometimes seem to allow. I could never possibly imagine myself to be capable of such a feat on my own, but seeing them makes me believe. It makes me want to take that step, to put myself on the line, and chase away the chorus of voices telling me "you can't do it."





Run Stuff
A solid weekend of running saw me clock some decent mileage on the roads, and even spend a few hours on a trail again! My mileage remains in the "intermediate" zone right now, as I continue to develop the solid base I'll need as my summer training progresses. I feel very good and seem to be adapting to the new diet rather well. I'll post more about that this week as I enjoy a lower-mileage schedule that will allow for some rest and recovery, before pushing ahead again with some more rigorous work later in the month.






Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Motivation



I've been pondering the idea of motivation lately - in particular, the distinction between extrinsic motivation (that which comes from an outside source) and intrinsic motivation (that which is derived from within one's self) and how it relates to the runner. A frequent refrain among those who don't share my particular tastes for physical activity is, "Why do you DO all that?" It's a perfectly logical question. On the surface, the training and preparation needed to run a half marathon, a marathon, or an ultra take time, energy, and patience....things that in our modern world do not exactly come in abundance. It really doesn't make sense to run for hours (and sometimes days) on end for little more than a little piece of metal and a pat on the back. It takes a lot of work. It's time away from my family and, by most measures, is pretty selfish if you think about it. But I stay at it, seeking that thrill of accomplishment and the commendations that accompany it.

But is there more to it than that? Should there be? When I began this journey as a runner many years ago, it was extremely gratifying to receive the accolades that would come with each successive achievement. It still is. Even as recently as my run in Boston a couple of weeks ago, I took great pride not only in the achievement but in the resulting praise that came with it. There was a great deal of pride in my hard work, to be sure, but make no mistake - the satisfaction that came from the recognition of others was also very important.

What I have been considering, though, is how important such recognition should be to me. There has to be more to it than that....at some point, the intrinsic must replace the extrinsic. When the applause dies down, when others aren't around to offer the back slaps....when I am alone on the trail with my own thoughts, what will be my fuel? What will give me the drive to continue? Then, what will be the point?

In my time of rest and recovery here over the past couple weeks I have given this question much thought. I'm already the guy who can run marathons....the guy who runs 100 milers....at some point the newness wears off and people aren't surprised or amazed any more. Appreciative, sure, but you can only go to that well so many times. And that's OK. I think that is a natural progression. 

And that is where the intrinsic comes in. I harbor an unending fascination and undying respect for runners of road and trail who toil and triumph in the background - who do not feel the need to post training run recaps to social media, who don't need to share their latest exploits among dozens of running communities, and who do not write overly long race recaps (yes, I'm looking at myself here!). I applaud those who DO - if not for those who have the courage to share their successes and failures, I might not have found my way to this sport that I love so much, after all - but I still look at those who keep going without the bright lights and the big groups with an eye of appreciation. 

It's hard for me sometimes to not feel like I am a self-promoter. I guess we all are in some ways, but I hope that as my running evolves, I learn to express the same level of humility and grace that I have seen from so many who have determined that the path for them is one of quiet, many times unacknowledged perseverance. I turned 42 a few days ago and I guess midlife birthdays warrant some introspection! Thus, this post. I hope to continue to enjoy the great friends and meaningful relationships that running has brought me though various media, electronic and otherwise, as I soldier on through my 40's. Yet I do believe that as I continue to engage in this amazing sport I will need to continue to look deeper, lest the waters that feed my desire to run long dry up.  

To be continued......

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Rest & Recovery Thoughts



After a pretty grueling few months of training and racing, I am in the process of enjoying (or trying to enjoy) some well-earned downtime. I didn't do anything last week at all running-wise, choosing to let my body completely rest and hopefully resolve some of the aches and pains I earned out on the trails in Huntsville and Bandera. I'm still pretty worn out and need to respect my recovery. While I have started to run again this week, albeit gingerly, I am keeping things slow with an emphasis on "easy". There's a reason why my motto is "Run. Rest. Repeat."

While in dry dock, I've given more thought to the idea of trying to live an uncluttered life. I believe in order to lead an uncluttered life, one must first be committed to the idea of having an uncluttered mind. In this day and age, and given my place in this world, it sometimes seems that is virtually impossible. I can't say it is certainly impossible because I have not really tried yet - but it does seem with the endless distractions that constantly clamor for my attention, be they work related, home/life related, or in social settings (real world and virtual, so to speak), learning to keep the mind quiet and at peace is fighting quite an uphill battle.

As my recovery continues and as Lent approaches, I am considering how I can do some mental and spiritual spring-cleaning. Perhaps wean myself off of social media for a time? Make time in the mornings and evenings for just a few minutes of stillness? Reduce the amount of negative noise that I allow into my consciousness, whether through music, radio, or other such media? I enjoy listening to music when I run, but is that a luxury I can do without for a while to further reduce the "voices in my head"? Can I allow myself to shut off the cell phone - the apparent nexus of 21st century social activity - for a few weeks when not in necessary situations?

Any and all of these ideas are on the table, along with a few others. There's just so much noise in the world today - endless advertisements, mindless talking, and constant stimulation all vie for our attention. Before long we'll have televisions strapped to our heads. (No joke - this technology is not far away.) How can I carve out some sort of an oasis in the midst of the chaos?

It's coming! (www.pbs.org)
I know there's a simpler way. I know it exists, and that many people, whether in the midst of a bustling city or out in a quiet country town, are living a life of quiet, conscious mindfulness and detachment. I've read about them, read their works, and even met some of them. Not all of it is genuine, but when something genuine is found, it is easy to recognize. Would anyone question the clarity of mind, purity of heart, and singleness of purpose of Mother Teresa of Calcutta? Her ministry took her to the darkest places of the busiest cities of the world. It was only through a clear, uncluttered, prayerful mind that she was able to reach into the depths of that darkness and remain clean herself - bringing, in fact, light to all of those around her.


I have so much to learn on this subject. It would seem that learning to untangle from the daily twists and turns of daily life would be relatively easy. For some, I'm sure it is. But for me it's truly an art form as complicated as, say, learning to paint or play a musical instrument. It requires daily refreshment and practice. All too often I seem to lose my momentum and end up back at square one. In such times, I can turn to God for healing and peace. I can look to the examples of the saints who fell like the rest of us but continued to get up and press on with their heavenly commission.  And I will recall my love of running. I'll remember the simple act of allowing myself to simply move and to breathe. Hopefully in those times I will have the mental clarity to recall this journey that I am on, to appreciate the simple beauty and joy around me, and turn the volume down on everything else.

Monday, February 2, 2015

RWB


For as long as I can remember I have had a deep seated admiration for the servicemen and servicewomen in our Armed Forces. While I have always been fascinated by anything involving the military, I have always favored military aviation in particular. When I was a kid, I had posters of fighter jets and helicopters on my walls and in my school notebooks. As soon as I was able to do so I joined the Civil Air Patrol. We would attend local airshows and I would watch in awe as the Thunderbirds or the Blue Angels would rocket overhead. When I was in my early teens I can recall trips to visit my aunt and uncle in Washington D.C. During the day while they worked in the city, I would be released on my own recognizance to see the sights of our nation's capital. I would invariably spend most of my days in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum researching fighter craft, pouring over the specifications of aircraft carriers, and reading about the history of military aviation. Whenever I could find a documentary on television about anything from air power in World War II, the building of the first nuclear submarines for the US Navy, or anything involving the Special Forces, my world would stop for hours. My favorite fighter plane was the Grumman F-14 Tomcat. My favorite helicopter was the Boeing AH-64 Apache. I just couldn't get enough.


Grumman F-14 Tomcat


Boeing AH-64 Apache

When I went off to college at Texas A&M, I was recruited to join the Corps of Cadets. As an incoming freshman it was my dream to advance into the Navy or the Air Force and pursue a career as a military officer. While that dream never came to fruition - my time in the Aggie Cadet Corps was certainly complicated, to say the least - I do not look back with regret. My life took me in a different direction and I left college to pursue a life and raise a family in the private sector. I have been blessed beyond measure and am exceedingly happy with the life God has given me. Yet I continued to hold a deep seated respect for those who pursued their dreams of service to our country.

I've recently been kicking around the idea of somehow tying in my respect for the military with my running. I hadn't really come up with anything that had any traction until I went up to Leadville to crew for and pace my friend, where I saw a large contingent of crew from Team RWB. It certainly caught my attention and I looked into it briefly, and while the camaraderie of their team made an impression on me, I didn't really do anything about it. 

I was moved to action with the passing of my father-in-law this past November. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force from 1954 to 1975. I wanted to act in his honor, so I made contact with the local team representative to learn more. Since then I've been collecting information and deciding how to proceed next.




This past weekend at Rocky Raccoon, I was supremely fortunate to have as a pacer a young man currently serving in the Marine Corps who is also a member of Team RWB. This effectively sealed the deal for me. I'll talk a little more about my experiences with him when I finish my race report for Rocky Raccoon, but our 6 hours together crystallized my thoughts on moving forward with this plan. I've still got a few bugs to work out but within the next few weeks I intend to be a fully participating member of Team RWB.

I'm very excited and look forward to exploring new frontiers with the group!

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

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.