How I Became A Runner - Ch. 2 - The Question of "Why?" Part II

The relationship of man's mind to his body is a real mystery. Both work together for the body to function properly, constantly sending signals back and forth for internal and external homeostasis. When it comes to sensation and the feelings that result, we naturally tend towards those which  bring us enjoyment and pleasure. We eat good food, drink good libation, travel, laugh, relax etc. On the flip side, we tend to deter from things that cause pain and strain on the mind/body complex, things both physical and emotional. This subconscious polarization of the person towards pleasure and away from pain seems to be a default many of us learn in our childhood and in the culture we live in.

So when I'm climbing a long chunk of pavement in cold rain and close-to-freezing temperatures, I ask myself why the hell I am out there. My quads are burning and my heart feels as if it's going to burst out of my chest. I keep my eyes fixed on the apex of the hill, thinking "reach the top and recover". The anticipation of finishing the climb then striding a bit to get my breath back is consoling - as much as that thought can be. Instead of lounging at home with a cup of tea and a good read, I've chosen to spend my Sunday afternoon suffering through rain, hills and long miles. This act defies my innate tendency towards comfort and pleasure and I am definitely not enjoying myself at that moment. Better yet, my mind is telling my body to stop. There is pleasure in the sport though. It is more of a pleasure "after the fact" rather than the typical pleasure you experience during  an act. Most endurance sports maintain this "post activity" pleasure, especially in the training. They are unique in this way and have many humans addicted. Despite this, I am still inclined to ask the question, especially to the die-hards out there - the triathletes, ultrarunners and touring cyclists.

I guess I began to piece this answer together when the miles started increasing and I kept on running. There was never some complicated decision whether to continue on or not; it just happened. One of the biggest factors in my development as a half-marathoner is my friendship with a guy by the name of Jon Moen. I met Jon back in November at a Thanksgiving dinner. I was reading Born to Run by Chris McDougall at the time and was beginning to become fascinated with running. When I found out Jon was a triathlete, I felt inclined to pick his brain. As a consequence, Jon and I started to run together on Sundays starting back in December. Braving the elements, we covered many miles together running intervals and mile repeats. Before this I was training by myself on every jaunt, accompanied only by my thoughts and the occasional iPod muse. 

Though I enjoy mile after mile of solitude, running with a partner or group of people adds a communal dynamic to training. Those around you become a source of motivation and encouragement. There is comradery in having someone else on your shoulder, suffering along with you. Knowing that I am not in it alone is the fuel that allows me to drive harder and dig deeper. Having a road buddy keeps you committed, keeps you honest about the effort and work you put in. Sometimes it boils down to the simple fact that you shared in a solid workout together. From this comes understanding, even empathy, from the other. Finding community and friendship on the road is a pleasant additive to the sport, something I have come to appreciate very much so. I can say that Jon is one of my mentors; he possesses a tenacity that I strive to emulate, and a will to push on through pain. In my eyes, he's pretty much a machine. When all is said in done, I am grateful to have someone to share a workout with, converse on the road and become a better runner in the process.

So the winter months wore on, wearing out my Nike Free 7.0s and taking a tole on my psyche. March was looming ahead, and I felt I was going to be ready for Snake River. I came to a point where I needed some new sneaks so I picked up a pair of Nike Free Run + which turned out to be an excellent choice. Since January I've been sporting the same pair, treading over 300 miles in them. There minimalist transition design allowed my Achilles and calf muscles to expand and strengthen. Struggling with ankle injuries picked up on the soccer pitch in college, I initially feared that running would reek havoc on my those joints and tendons. Yet, the range of motion the Frees allow enabled my ankles to strengthen, much to my content. I'll save minimalist running topics for another day, but in the meantime, check out Runblogger. This blog was created by my former research professor at Saint Anselm College, Dr. Peter Larson. He provides a great source for literature on running science, minimalist running and all the stops in between.

Finish - how sweet hardware tastes

Anyways, back on topic. March came and I found myself standing at the starting line of the Snake River Canyon Half Marathon. I had been through months of training leading up to this point but wasn't turned off by one bit of it. I was relaxed, excited, ready to embark on a new adventure. The course was flat as a pancake so I new it would be pretty straightforward - good for a newbie. The Snake River Canyon itself is a beautiful area. Down near Pullman, WA, the drive takes you 5 miles  into the canyon where the river sits clear as a mirror with the surrounding buttes reflecting off of it. The scenery became a topic of conversation at the start of the race, but many soon turned their focus to racing.

Throughout the race, I found other runners that helped me pace through the first 10 miles of the trek. I reached the halfway point at 45:16 so I got ambitious and thought I'd try to run sub 1:30. Well, that didn't happen. I lost my pacer at mile 11 and really struggled through the last 5k of the race. My legs felt like bricks; I had no pop whatsoever and craved for food and the finish line. This is "The Wall" endurance athletes talk about, a thing I had never experienced before. Well, I definitely hit that wall, and found some will from the external ether to get me over it. I came in at 1:30:33, a super race in my book. I  had set a reasonable go of coming in  under 1:35 but surprised myself by doing it much faster. The post race picture pretty much sums up the race - I was ecstatic that I had actually finished a half-marathon, something that was a daunting task back in January. From that point on, I can tell you that I was bitten by the running bug, still have a scar, and continue to be addicted to its venom. Psyched at a new found hobby, I continued training with Jon and jumped on board with a small running club in Spokane.

Continuing to put on the miles after the Snake River HM, I set new goals for myself to become fitter and break my previous race time. Right of the bat, I fell into the mental trap of having my sole focus be on an improvement of fitness. For a time before the Coeur d'Alene HM, I became hypersensitive to my workouts, constantly scrutinizing them. I fell off from the joy of running that I had acquired from months previous and beat myself up mentally when I missed a workout or had one that did not meet my expectations. This did not bode well with having to deal with life at work and home. Though running was a positive outlet, I began to obsess over it. The physical pain was easier to handle at that point, but the mental battle that ensued was a bit more formidable. In time I would be brought back down to Earth, but not until I learned some lessons about myself as a runner.