Running With Blinders to Visibly Invisible People

It was unseasonably warm as I was running in the early morning on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Though it was late October I was wearing only shorts and a T-shirt. It was before the sun came up. I was hoping to see a beautiful sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean that morning as I ran along the boardwalk. I was not disappointed. I snapped a few photos from my phone every few minutes. As anyone who has watched the sunrise knows, it is an ever-changing brightness of reds, oranges, and yellows. I was not the only one mesmerized by it. Others were stopping and taking pictures of the magnificence as well.

I would post a picture of this beautiful morning. I know others would also post their pictures from the comfort of their oceanfront hotel room.  My posts and the others on social media would give an appearance of a beautiful place filled with happiness and hope, that a new day with an incredible sunrise always brings. Yet I knew that my picture would just be an illusion and incomplete. It would not include those who would start the day with little warmth, little food, and little hope.

You see, as I was running before the sun rose, I could see along the closed businesses and in the chairs and benches that are spread along the boardwalk, people bundled with blankets and tattered clothing, sleeping. They are homeless people. When the sun rose, unlike me and the other tourists who eagerly took in the rising sun with joy, they did nothing. Some were beginning to rustle, others kept sleeping.

While I am not surprised to see this. It always saddens me to witness this so close. Here in Atlantic City, in the casinos on this very boardwalk, people will be gambling hundreds and thousands of dollars. Just outside their entrance a homeless person will be begging for a dollar. These people had put all their chips on the table, gambling on the game of life and lost it all.

This is not a bashing of Atlantic City, because just this year I encountered homeless people on runs in upstate New York and rural New Hampshire. I have encountered them on the west coast as well. I have noticed that they are visibly invisible. We all see them but look past them. We avoid eye contact. Most people are bothered by the begging they do. It is uncomfortable. That day alone when I was walking on the boardwalk, I gave out a dollar to five different individuals.

Like me on social media, others will post pictures of the beautiful sunrise, beautiful landscapes, and happy people. As if life is always great. Yet we all know that is not true because those visibly invisible people are there. The camera is just not pointed in their direction. I contemplated stopping and taking a picture of a homeless person to give a complete picture of my run. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It would be using that person as a prop to show an ugliness in our society. That person is still an individual and somehow, I thought that they would not appreciate that their face would be used as a symbol of something wrong in society.

Our lives are all a journey with many forks in the road. I am not sure how their decisions led them to this life. Maybe it was addiction, maybe mental illness, maybe just plain bad luck. They were once in their life very visible to others, now they are invisible to most people. I wondered how their life’s journey brought them to this point.

I have written about tackling all different types of weather when I run, from bitter cold to heat, and in rain, snow and sleet. I do love being in elements, but that is temporary. Even if I spend hours in horrible conditions I will usually end up in a nice hot shower, with a good meal and a comfortable bed. I look at these people sleeping on the boardwalk and think how hard that is. For example, the morning before, the mist and wind made the boardwalk wet and slippery. I am sure that those people sleeping on the boardwalk had the dampness soak through to their bones.

I am not sure why this experience and encounter motivated me to write about a sadder part of our society. When I posted a picture of the sunrise, I mentioned that everything was not beautiful and that there were homeless people. One woman commented that she was glad that I had that observation. I think that she had hit on something. Too often we do not give a complete picture of life. We give what we want.

I do not have any answer for homelessness. Yet I believe we cannot solve a problem if we do not see it. In this case we often, on a personal level, do not want to see it. I myself have complained about a vacation location that there were too many homeless people. As if they came there to ruin my vacation plans. We have to see the homeless not as visibly invisible, but as people.

When I got home the next day, I took my normal morning run in my neighborhood. It is a nice area of Northern New Jersey, and I enjoyed it. There are no homeless people on this run. Yet I thought back to the other runs that I described. It is nice to pretend that something is not there. However, I don’t like lying to myself. That next day I searched the internet to see where I could help at a soup kitchen or someplace else. I can’t pretend some people are invisible anymore.

Goodbye My Unseen Friend

I had heard my cell phone ring in the other room but I didn’t get up. I was engrossed in a baseball game and was not expecting any calls. I would check later, probably a phone solicitation. However later in the night when I went to check I was intrigued because I saw the number was from Cincinnati and there was a message. Could it be I thought to myself my friend Richard?

I eagerly listened to the message. At first there was silence, but I knew that someone was there. It was not the delay of a phone solicitor. Then there was voice a little weak and definitely an older man.  He started off by saying “Ray this is an apologetic old guy.” Yes, it was Richard! I was so excited! It was like putting a message in a bottle and floating it out to sea and getting a reply. My excitement, however, was quickly replaced by sadness when in his short message he uttered the words “My expiration date is getting closer.”  I was saddened but not shocked about my 97-year-old friend.

The written word can have tremendous power. This is especially true when two people correspond with each other. We sometimes forget that in this digital world in which short texts and emojis are the more common forms of staying in touch with others. You see Richard and I, along with our friend Cynthia and sometimes Debby was active in a chatroom on a website about running.  For years we were the primary people posting on the website. Looking back, others probably did not post as much because it seemed like a private conversation. Our conversations went on for years. Yes, we were different ages and different runners. Richard was a master track and field star amassing more medals than you can imagine. Cynthia was also a dancer entering master competitions. Richard would share his medals from the track meets and Cynthia would share her elegant dance videos. For my part I would regale them with muddy trail races and ultra marathons. While we never met in person, we somehow really connected with each other, not just as names on chatroom but as individuals. We were very supportive of each other.

I never had a pen pal when I was a kid, but I am guessing it is almost a 21^st century version of that. When the running website went down, we were all upset on how we couldn’t stay in touch with each other. It was that important to us. Cynthia and I were on Facebook, but Richard wasn’t. I forgot how but Richard and I had each other’s email address, and we added Cynthia to our email correspondence. The gang was back together. Later Debby joined us.

Yet suddenly Richard’s correspondence stopped. He did not respond to our emails. His last one was also a mix of words and no complete sentences. I also noticed that he was a no show to the last track meet. I was worried. Richard had at one time sent me a snail mail letter with an article about his running which was amazing for someone in his 90’s. I kept his letter with the return address and decided to mail him a letter.  I was worried that he was not in good health. To be safe I also addressed the envelope with his name and his daughter’s name on it. He had at one time sent me a link to a news story about his family which was his wife and daughter. To him I expressed how much I missed his correspondence. To his daughter I tried to explain who this stranger was that was sending a letter from New Jersey.

Lo and behold the letter worked and he had called me.

What do you say to a dear friend that you had never met or even spoken to? Despite this seemingly noncontact situation he meant a lot to me. We had shared successes. We had encouraged each other, and we exchanged down times. Richard had inspired me by the way he attacked aging. He did it with joy and determination. Before this letter exchange I had even written a blog about how Richard had inspired me called Finding my Roger Bannister for Being Old.

While I was nervous dialing his number, once he answered the phone it was easy. After all we were long time friends. Unseen friends but friends none the less. He told me that he had some health issues and that he would not be running anymore. I thought of saying “yes you will.” But I knew that he was probably soft pedaling the issues and that this phone call was his way of thanking and saying goodbye to friends. He hinted at that when we spoke.

I did call him again and we had a great conversation. I also found out that while I called him Richard everyone else called him Dick. Then a few weeks later I tried calling a couple of times but got no answer. I had finished a hundred-mile trail run and was excited to share the adventure with him. Yet I couldn’t reach him.

A week later his daughter texted me and says that her father had passed. I texted and called her with my condolences. For some reason I felt an immediate connection with her. It was the shared love of her father.

I have very few regrets in my life and almost all of them are of things that I did not do. One of them was visiting Richard. Just to run or walk with him. At least I got to talk to him.

You may be thinking “Ray I think that you are over blowing this relationship with someone you never met.” The reason is simple. Richard inspired me, he encouraged me, and he made me a better person. There are many people I see in person on a regular basis who do none of that. I am a better person for knowing Richard, even if it was not in person.

Goodbye Richard and thank you.

Having Type Two Fun at the Wild Goose

It definitely had the makings of a party. The music was blaring with upbeat rock songs in which I knew all the words and like others was singing along to myself. The food would be flowing with pretty much anything you would want. It was like a New Jersey Diner under a canopy. Everyone was smiling and laughing though there were a few people deep in their own thoughts. People were reacquainting themselves and introducing themselves to friendly strangers. Some people were even dressed in costume. This party was really rocking. It would go on for 36 hours.

Yet I knew that I was going to leave the fun and vibe of this scene to be by myself for intervals of a couple of hours at a time. It may seem strange to leave the fun and frivolity of a party, but this was not just a party. It was the Wild Goose Trail Festival hosted by the Sassquad Trail Running. It was a collection of runners of all kinds, running all kinds of distances. I was seeking to run 100 miles. In which I estimated would take me about 30 hours on this course. I had run 100 miles before in 29 hours, but that course was not as technical as this one. In addition, three days before the race I had come down with a stomach virus. While I was okay for normal day to day activities, running 100 miles is not normal and I wasn’t sure how my body would react. So the 36 hour cutoff made my decision easy.

I should correct myself I was not really leaving the fun, but I was switching my fun. I was going from Type One fun to Type Two fun. For those of you not familiar with the Fun Scale it states that there are three types of fun. Type One Fun, is fun in the moment like a birthday party, wedding or picnic. Type Two Fun is difficult and maybe even miserable at the time but afterwards when reminiscing about it is great. Type Three Fun is actually miserable both in the moment and even looking back. I like to specialize in Type Two Fun and this 100 mile run was definitely Type Two Fun. I suspect that most of the runners are like me at this race even if they are unfamiliar with the Fun Scale.

If I had ordered any weather for this race, it couldn’t have been any better than it was that day, sixties and sunny at its peak and the overnight low maybe high forties. While I have often had to deal with the weather it is always nice when that is not a concern.  There is enough thinking and mental games that go on in one’s head during an ultra-marathon. So that eliminating one thing to think about is always nice.

The race consisted of three different loops, a pink (7.75 miles), checkered (4.75 miles) and a blue (6 miles) I was to complete 5 sets of each, plus a bonus pink loop. I had done a couple of races before at Wawayanda State Park and knew some trails could be very rocky, possibly wet as well, not to mention hilly. My first trek across all three I usually push myself but try and find the right pace which is hard when you do not know the course. I usually will walk the steep hills because after all it is 100 miles and it is not a sprint. It isn’t even a marathon actually it is like four marathons.

After completing the set of loops, I knew a couple of things. First the trails were in great shape. Yes, they were rocky but for the most part dry. No need for some of the extra shoes and socks I had packed. I also noticed that my watch indicated that my run would be longer than 100 miles. Doing this run I would  finish closer to 104 miles than 100 miles. Which meant more than an additional hour on my total time.

I also now had a feel for my pace and set my goals.  I wanted to complete two full sets plus the pink loop before darkness set in. I did not want to do the longest loop more than once in the dark. I was talking to another runner Craig and he had the same goal though we both knew it would be close. Luckily for me my friend Dan would come and pace me for the late afternoon. (Sassquad Trail Running has a nice policy in that older runners over 60 that you can get a pacer at any time on the ultra. Most pacers are for the end only.) Dan’s presence lifted my spirits and we reached my goal.

As the night and darkness set in, it was time for some Type Two fun! One enters running at night in the forest with some trepidation when one knows that bear and coyotes live there. Even though I knew that with so many people an encounter was unlikely, it still is something that lurks in the back of your mind as you traverse the sometimes narrow trails with your only visibility that which is visible by your headlamp. At one point there was a woman behind me and I was going to let her pass because she seemed faster. She, however, was more than content to follow along as we both heard animals in the woods and it seemed safer to run with someone else. That was the only time I ran with someone that night. All the other loops were solo just me, the darkness, and my bear bells.

I trudged on through the night with only one break I took thirty minutes out to take a nap and recharge my watch. It was a new watch and while it was good for thirty hours I knew I would be over that time.

My favorite part of running through the night is the dawn. There is something that is truly magical about watching a new day begin. You can hear the birds and at least for me you truly appreciate the sunrise. I always feel stronger I guess because I know that I came through a challenge. I also was on pace to finish in 31 hours. I had a marathon left.

It was funny as I headed out after running for twenty-four hours I could see some runners who were lining up for the 50k.  I decided to walk a bit more so that they could all pass me. I didn’t want to be on the single track pulling off to the side to let them pass me. It would be discouraging. Better that they pass me on the road part. I was amazed at how fast they were all moving. Their legs were so fresh. You could say a lot of things about my legs but fresh was not one of them.

I was moving fairly steady a little slower but I knew I had time. That is until I hit a wall. All of a sudden on the next to the last loop the blue one, I was struggling. Not only were my legs like lead but my head was out of sorts. I had taken my foot off the gas pedal and couldn’t get the fire back. I tried doing the math of when I would finish and I was going to be a lot longer than I thought because of this loop. I also said to myself that I will never do this race again.

After finishing the blue loop, I only had one loop left, the pink one. I rested just a bit got some nutrition and decided to attack this last loop with everything I had.  I was moving again and was surprisingly passing some other runners. I thought that I would be one of the last finishers. When I got to the point when I was only a little over a mile from finishing all of a sudden, my stomach turned and I vomited. I kept moving, however, between incidents. I recovered enough to run that last mile. I was certain that only a few people were behind me. I was disappointed that I was at the back of the pack.

At first I was not happy with my finish of 33:07:51. It was two hours longer than I expected. Then I looked at the race results and saw that I came in 30th place out of 41 finishers. Thirty runners, however, did not even finish the race.

When I got home I was dirty, sore and unable to unload my gear from my car. My wife asked me how was the race I said “hard but fun!”. Type two fun. Will have to sign up for it again next year.

The Equalizer - Grit and Determination

I was walking in the field where all the runners were setting up their personal camps for a 30-hour 100 miles or more race, and taking in the scene with my wife. When these two women walking in the opposite direction are walking towards me and I can’t help but check them out. Even though my wife was right next to me. After they pass, I turned to my wife who also saw them, and we shook our heads. They looked like Amazon warriors. They were so fit and strong. I was checking them out as my competitors, and I obviously did not match up with their fitness. We looked around and most of the runners were incredibly fit.

You see all these other runners were for the most part younger, stronger, and more agile than me. I have to admit when I saw the other runners I was intimidated. I was sixty-two and attempting to run a hundred miles for the first time. While many of the runners like those women had bodies that turned heads. I did not. I was thinking to myself, that maybe I had gotten myself in over my head.

I had learned over time though that this was not a race, I was not racing the other runners. I had to ignore the competition and just go at my pace. I was racing against myself. I had my goal and a plan to get to it. Where I placed, was of little concern to me. Finishing however was. I was confident that even though I was older and slower than most of the others I was just as determined, maybe even more so. I was sixty-two years of age and not getting any faster, so I had limited opportunities left to do these races. They had the luxury of many future runs. I had fewer opportunities to fail. While it was my first attempt at 100 miles, I had endured many Tough Mudders, Spartan Races, and several 50 milers. So, I was used to tough challenges. Maybe I was naïve, but I was confident.

As the seventy-plus runners started, I felt good and was going strong. Since this was a loop race you saw the other runners often and I knew the strong ones. They would lap me once and a while. I confess that it is a bit deflating to get passed but I kept trudging on. While I was moving good there was something looming that worried me. That would be the necessity of running through the night. I will admit I was a bit fearful of running through the forest at night. It was the one thing I had never really done before but in order to reach my goal I had to confront that fear.

When night came, I was very tentative. I was going to walk not run since even with a headlamp it was hard to see the details of the trail. Yet I felt strong and running seemed better. So, after less than a mile I was inpatient, and I began to run. Running at night in a forest is strange. While I had run this loop many times before in the daylight it was not the same trail at night. The stumps, trees, and rock formations took on eerie shapes. Seeing some eyes watching me from the forest did nothing to ease my nervousness even if only was a deer. (I hoped!)

I was moving slower than during the day but I was still moving when I began to notice something. There were fewer runners on the trail. Many runners had decided to take a longer nap during the night. Running at night in the forest is not for everyone. Yet if you wanted to get to 100 miles you had to do it. I was planning on taking a short nap but otherwise just to keep moving.

Even among the strong athletes, there were fewer. There were only one or two who passed me at night. Apparently, some of them had burned themselves out by going out too fast or had some other issue with their food or injuries.  I know when I stopped at my tent, I heard some people moaning in pain. Others were completely asleep. While everyone else slept I kept moving steadily. I did have to take a short nap but felt rejuvenated and reenergized.

When morning broke, I realized that there were fewer runners. Some had apparently pushed themselves to their limit. What surprised me was that a couple were strong runners. One had at one point been leading the race. A couple of the other young athletes had trouble maintaining their pace.

I realized that I may have one attribute in greater abundance than some of the younger runners. I probably had more grit and determination. In fact, the next morning when my wife returned one of the “Amazon” women said to my wife “Your husband is amazing he never stops!” My wife told me this after the race.

I remember that all my focus when the sun came up was getting to that 100-mile mark. During each loop I would think of what food I would eat when and make sure I had enough fluids. It looked like I would be cutting it close to that 30-hour limit. The only thing that seemed to be draining my energy was my ability to do math. I was trying to calculate my pace and the time limit but for some reason I couldn’t. A lesson I learned is that after running over 90 miles and with no sleep for twenty-seven hours doing even simple math becomes difficult.

As the time ticked away and I was just over 29 hours I had only two miles left and had reached my goal of 100 miles. Out of the seventy-five runners only eleven had surpassed the 100-mile mark. Even some of the athletes whose bodies I was envious of had not reached that goal. I was the last one to get to that goal.

It was at this race that it was solidified in my mind that ultra-running is not only a physical challenge but also a mental challenge. As a runner you need to prepare not just physically but mentally for the race. Those other runners may have better physical assets than me, but I compensated with my grit and determination. It is something that I work on now as much as my physical training is my mental training and mindset.

Finally, sometimes when we start to compare ourselves to others all we see is how we don’t measure up. It is better to just be the best version of ourselves that we can be. Not everything is a competition – not even a race.

 

Connecting to the Land on a New England Country Run

My head was pounding a bit, and the idea of running was being rejected by almost every fiber in my body. I had had a great time at a family get together the night before. (Maybe even too good.) So, the overindulgence of food and drink was telling me “Enjoy life. You are on vacation. Relax and take a day off from running”. I compromised and slept an extra twenty minutes. Then, as I am apt to do especially on vacation, I donned my running gear and headed out for my run. My body, however, was not cooperating. Though this is common for me, the first couple of miles anywhere I run. That first mile or so, seems to be a struggle.

I came to a “T” and the road and made a right but soon saw that lead to a highway, so I immediately turned around and headed the other way. Soon I began a steady climb. This meant I had to work a little harder to go slower. I ran by an old cemetery which is common on these roads in New England. For some reason I find these cemeteries quite enchanting. There are headstones going back to the colonial era plus some in the twentieth century. It is a local history in one spot. I always look at these places and it is a collection of life stories that I will never know but somehow treasure. This cemetery lifted my spirits, and I took a mental note to take a picture of it on my way back.

I continued and the landscape began to open up. There was a large field and in the background behind it I could see Mount Belknap which is not yet part of the famed White Mountains, yet it stands out. I peered to the side of the road and saw rock walls that were beginning to be overtaken by Mother Nature and partially hidden, but I knew that they would be there because this is New England and like the headstones in the cemetery they date back to the birth of this nation.

There was little traffic on this road, but it seemed that half the cars that passed by were not cars but pickup trucks. A sign that I was in a rural area. There were more fields and views, and I was taking it all in. I spotted a flock of turkeys in one field. The houses were far apart, islands set in a sea of fields and forests. I started curiously peering into the yards to see what clues it gave to the type of life that was being lived there. It felt wrong like I was a Peeping Tom but I was beginning to take in all my surroundings not just the natural landscape but the people. What was that house doing with all the firewood strewn on the side of the house? Those three sets of children’s water shoes on the front steps meant that there was a swimming hole nearby I deduced. While this was at one time all farmland, I did not see anyone now growing crops or for that matter any farm animals. They were not toiling the land to make a living though in a twenty-first century way they were just as attached to the land.

At one house in the back was a barn with a huge American flag hanging on the outside wall. If you were going to film a scene for a commercial that screamed America that would be it. I could see the commercial now with someone parking their pickup truck under the flag and their trusty dog scampering out behind them. That is rural America.

Unlike when I am training for a race when I regularly check my watch for my distance and pace, this run was not just about the running. I was running, but my pace meant nothing. The distance meant very little as well, except to let me know how far I had to get back to my starting point. This run was more mindful and was about taking in my surroundings.

All runs for me are good. Yet not all runs are created equal. On a walk, my sister-in-law asked me my favorite run. I was surprised by the question and asked her “Do you mean a race?” Because most of my runs are not races. They are just my daily run, whether I am at home or like I am now, away.  I couldn’t really come up with an answer. First of all, I really do not have many favorites. I don’t have a favorite meal or dessert.  No favorite movie, TV show, or musical entertainer. I began by rattling off a couple of scenic races but knew that on the spur of the moment I couldn’t answer that question.

Looking back, however, there are two types of runs that standout. One will be a challenging race in which I am pushed to my limits but still finish. I love those runs. I feel a sense of accomplishment, satisfaction, and glee at the end of those races.

The other is a different kind of run. It is like the one I was on in this New Hampshire country road. These runs are not about the distance, pace, or difficulty. It is about enjoying being alive and able to move. Being in touch with your surroundings. I described this once before in a previous blog – Running in Strange Places, But it bears repeating. You understand an area much better when you traverse it on your own two feet. You will not get this same sensation driving at 50mph or even slowly at 25mph.  On your own two feet it is an experience that engages all your senses not just the sense of sight.

As I headed back, I stopped at the cemetery and took a quick photo. I pondered the history and stories of the people and the land. For a short time on the run, I felt a personal connection to this land. I know that is not possible, since I am a stranger here. Yet somehow it was. I was seeing this land not just through my own eyes but through the generations that lived here.

New England is a land steeped in history and tradition. All you need to do is take steps with your two feet and use all your senses and you will appreciate it.

 

 

Pain is Evidence of Living a Full Life

I owned every second that this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
Yeah, with every broken bone
I swear I lived

One Republic

As I sit at the keyboard, I am having a hard time because my upper arm is in pain and when I move it, I can’t help but wince in pain. The Ibuprofen I took, having very little effect in minimizing my pain.  I look down at my feet and my one toe is all black and blue and another is missing a toenail. On the plus side the scabs from a recent fall on a trail run are almost gone and the blackeye from taking a header on another trail race is just a post on Facebook now. These injuries are the courtesy of an above average active lifestyle of running and, in the summer playing volleyball.

While I do my best to avoid injuries, I am not always very successful. They happen fairly often though they are usually just small things that just slow me down and do not stop me. It happens often enough that on my way out of the house for trail race or volleyball game my wife’s loving words of encouragement are not “Good luck. I know you will crush it!” oh no. It is the words “Don’t come home hurt.” Which she says in the same tone as when she would lecture our kids when they were five years old about negative behavior.

So obviously the hardest part about these injuries is telling my wife. Because I know she will not be sympathetic. No because as she says “No sympathy for stupidity!” It is her time to be a bit smug and without saying the words but letting me know “I told you so.”

I am sure you are wondering why a man now in his sixties would still do activities that have a high probability of causing injury or some type of pain? While also to make matters worse, will get no sympathy from his family.

Sometimes I ask myself the same question but in a different way. What I will ask myself is “Are you still up to this challenge? and “Are you too old for the challenge?” Finally, “Is it worth the risk?” Obviously, the answer so far is to keep pushing myself.

When you are pushing yourself as much as you can injuries and pain are inevitable. They are small obstacles put in your path to challenge you. They can also make you smarter because they are learning opportunities, the more I run the more I try and avoid injuries learning from past mistakes. I obviously am a slow learner as my missing toenails, swollen feet, and black eyes attest to.

Yet I don’t believe that you can live life fully unless you are fully engaged. Often that means a rugged trail race or ultra marathon. Yet it does not have to be an athletic or physical activity. It could be professional or personal. Think about a promotion that you did not get that you tried for. Think about when you were younger (Actually any age.) and you said “I love you.” And it was not reciprocated. I have experienced those bruises too. Frankly they hurt more than a missing toenail or blackeye.

When I was in the last few miles of running almost two-hundred miles from the top of New Jersey to the bottom, my friend Kevin who was running alongside me and was playing music to keep us motivated and inspired asked what song would I like? I asked for an usual song that was not “Eye of the Tiger” or “We are the Champions!” or any other traditional hard driving song. No, I asked for “I Lived” by One Republic. This is not their biggest hit, but it speaks to me. The lines “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” Is how I look at not just attacking my running, but attacking life itself. You go all out. You push yourself.

That is because you do not know what you are capable of unless you try. Inevitably you will fall or get hurt either physically or emotionally. It is not pleasant but at least it is a sign that you are giving it your all.

On my most recent trail race I took five falls. A personal high. On the last one it was a complete header. I face-planted and my glasses were hanging on one ear the water bladders flew from my vest. I slowly got up and tried to regain my composure. Another runner came up behind me and she had witnessed my ungraceful display of agility. She helps me gather my stuff up and offered me some sympathy. Obviously, the runner was not my wife.

I continued on, slightly in pain and with the beginning of a blackeye. Several miles from the finish I passed another runner who was now walking. I asked how he was doing. He said “I fell three times and decided to walk it in because it was not worth an injury.” I remained quiet and did not tell him my haphazard running experience. I know that if my wife heard that two struggling runners met and one played it safe and walked it in and one disregarded the obstacles and pain and pushed on quickly. She would know which one was her husband. The stupid one.

Yet when I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted and almost immediately my body stiffened up. All the adrenaline was gone and walking to the car I looked like an eighty-year-old man. My muscles cramped slightly as I slowly eased my way into my car. I was exhausted and in pain. A common occurrence after a race like this. Yet despite all that I felt so alive. The song started playing in my head “Yeah, with every broken bone -I Swear I Lived.” I have the scars to prove it.

 

 

 

 

Finding my Roger Bannister for Being Old

Roger Banister is famous for breaking the four-minute mile mark. It was a record that runners had chased for decades to no avail. It was thought by many that it was impossible for a human to run a mile that fast. It was also thought that if it was somehow accomplished that the running conditions would have to be perfect. Yet when he broke the record it was a cold wet day. Yet on the day he did it more than a record was broken. He showed the world what was possible. A month and half later John Landry broke the four-minute mile and then thirteen months later three runners in the same race no less broke the four minute mile. Now-a-days even high schoolers run sub four-minute miles.  It was Roger Bannister, however, who showed us all a new possibility. A physical activity went from impossible to possible for all who followed. It is sometimes called the “Bannister Effect”.

Think about his impact of changing the mindset and creating a new possibility for all runners to follow. Think about the impact if something that seemed far flung or even impossible now becomes very possible to you personally. That happened to me with my friend Richard. He gave me a new vision about being older. I never really thought about what it would be like to be in my 60’s. 70’s, 80’s or even my 90’s.

Being old just happens. You don’t really plan for it even though it is inevitable. You work until you retire. Then you do what retired people do. You look around and see what people who are older are doing. That seems to be the only options available to you. They seem to have fun as long as they have a nest egg and good health (Though all seem to have some medical issue.). Active ones play golf, swim, walk, play cards, join a book club or senior citizens organization. I was fearing getting old because I couldn’t picture myself having a more sedentary lifestyle. My father was always working in his yard or the garage doing physical labor until cancer took him in his eighties. My mother is very spry and alert at 96. So maybe genetically sitting around is not for me. Yet the options did not inspire me to look forward to retirement.

I did begin to think about being in my 70’s when I turned fifty. I was in fairly good shape but not great shape. I decided I wanted to hike mountains when I retire and not just look at them or drive up to the top. So, I began training to be 75.

I began running and doing various races from Tough Mudder’s and Spartan to trail races. I knew however I had a limited time to do this, that Father Time (If you want to read about my battles with  Father Time read this blog.)would one day put a stop to my fun. As part of my fitness training, I joined an online group that set a goal of running and/or walking 1,000 miles in a year. Something that is very doable. The site had a few articles and a leaderboard and also a discussion page.

In the discussion page there was not a ton of posts, but I enjoyed it and after a while there were a few of us that were regulars. I enjoyed my online banter with Cynthia, Debby, and Richard. We always stayed positive and encouraged each other to reach our goals. In the years we were doing this Richard always amazed me.  You see Richard was in his 90’s. I remember at the end of February I was doing about 100 miles per month and was feeling pretty impressed with myself, until I looked up and Richard was ahead of me!

Richard not only walked and ran a lot, but he also competed in master track events. Usually placing in the various events whether it be a 100 meter dash, long jump, or 200 meter race. He was still an athlete.

That is why Richard changed me. He showed me that he was an athlete even after the age of 90. That was not something I thought was an option or even possible. Sure, I had seen YouTube clips of 80- and 90-year-olds finishing a race but this was different. Richard and I regularly communicated with each other. Even after the website went defunct, we stayed in contact. As Richard would say “We were unseen friends.” We had a connection, so his feats really hit home and had an impact.

I now decided that I was an athlete but that was not a temporary label but a permanent self-image of myself. I finally knew what I would do when or if I retire. I would still enter races and compete. I would run till I couldn’t anymore. I now knew what was possible not for others but for me. Like those runners pursuing the sub four-minute mile after Roger Bannister They knew that their dream was attainable. That gives you confidence to strive for your goal. Richard did that for me.

So I may retire from work but not from competing. I don’t expect to win many if any events, but I can still compete. Like the runners who followed Roger Bannister they had a different mindset I had new mindset about getting old. From my way of thinking getting old is all about your mindset.

One of the things I pride myself on in my races is that I always like to finish strong. Running the last mile or so with whatever energy I have left. I don’t want to walk or just slowly trod across the finish line. This even though it will not change my place in the standings. There is a high at the finish line when you know that you have given it your all. I know that this sounds trite, but I want to end my life the same way. I don’t want my final years being sedentary and slow moving. I want it to end like the race. Me always pushing my body and mind to do more.

Now Richard was impressed with my tough trail races and ultra-marathons but what I never told him was his impact on me. I recently finished first in my age group in a tough trail marathon. (Actually, it was 28 miles.) That was not because I was particularly fast but because I was the only one in that age group. I hope that maybe, just maybe, in the future one or two people who are younger than me will see a man in his 60’s running in these races and say hey I was going to stop but if this old guy can do so can I – after all it is possible. Sometimes all we need to push ourselves is to know that something is possible. Thank you, Richard.