So, I will confess that until recently I never understood the allure of running. Sure its faster than walking, but much slower than driving. However, tipping the scales at near the 2nd century mark and having great suits hanging in the closet collecting dust, has a way of focusing one's mind on possible alternatives to a sedentary (think Jabba The Hutt) lifestyle.
I spent several weeks mentally preparing for my introduction to running, bought all the right gear, had a full physical, loaded up the ipod with my favorite tunes and I was ready to roll. Whitney was home for the summer and I knew that he regularly worked out by running, so I asked and he graciously agreed to join me for my first foray at the high school track. Logan came along too - I'm sure only for the comic relief.
June 9th - I look back now and think how pathetic I must have looked. Middle-aged, overweight guy, mostly walking 1/4 miles, running on occasion, feeling the burn in my lungs as I expended too much energy and wondering why anyone would knowingly engage in such an obviously self-defeating endeavor. My ipod and nike+ chip in my shoe registered my "run" as 2.16 miles covered in just over 34 minutes. Oy.
The encouragement of my family and friends, (runners and non-runners), despite my seeming lack of success at such a simple activity kept me going back, pushing myself to do a little better each time. Trust me, early on, it wouldn't have taken much to discourage me back to my previous status of complete lethargy.
The next big step; Our family all signed up to run a mini-marathon (2.6 miles) on the 4th of July in Monmouth. A mixture of young and old, male and female, brothers, sisters, cousins - you get the picture. Fourteen family members in all. My goal was simply not to finish last. I didn't.
Something wonderful happened that day - I missed the time goal I had set for myself by about 11 seconds. That may not sound like much, but it seriously bothered me. I kept thinking "if I hadn't walked that stretch" or "I could have pushed myself a little more" and that would have led to a minor victory in a somewhat inconsequential event. I determined that from that moment on, each time I went for a run/walk I would push myself to go beyond that which I thought I was able to do.
Tomorrow I will register my 300th mile since June 9th. Since that time I have run the deck of a Cruise Ship, the streets of Skagway, Alaska, and the Hills of Neskowin. After living here my whole life, I have discovered the serenity of Minto Brown Island and its miles of trails and paths. I have run when its hot, I have run when its cold. I have run at daybreak and past sundown. I have conquered the West Salem Hills and the headwinds at the Oregon Coast. I have run on sore knees, a bad back, and various aches and pains attendant to my age, but I have never felt better.
I am officially addicted. I regularly check weather forecasts to know what part of the day will be optimal. I schedule my day to make sure I have time for my run (and the icing of knees afterward). I find myself in extended conversations, with others who run, about - running.
Walking has not been a part of my workout since July. I have run 42 of the last 59 days (I don't do Sundays). All 21 August workouts have been in excess of 6 miles, (longest was a 8.75 miler). the last seven in excess of 7 miles. As I have pushed myself, my times have also dramatically improved. The 9:06 mile I logged earlier this week, as part of my 29:02 5K, 61:46 10K, and "7 miles in 70 minutes" run, may not seem like great times to serious runners, but to me they are markers of how far I've come since the 9th of June.
It has added balance to my life. I think more clearly. I generally have a better attitude. It has allowed me to connect with my children in an area of common interest. It is an activity that my wife and I enjoy together. I am definitely more organized and am generally at peace with the tumult that can sometimes surround me by having that time of solitude where its just me with my mind trying to overcome what my body thinks it's limits are. Oh, and the 27 lbs. I've lost doesn't include the dust now gone from my suits . . .
