“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” – OneRepublic
I believe strongly in pushing yourself to your limits.
Most times we do not even know what our limits are, or what
we are capable of until we push ourselves. I have accomplished some things in
running that I never dreamed of.
Since reaching the age of 60, I have run numerous races and
ultra-marathons that I am proud of. Listing these accomplishments seems to give
them a sense of inevitability that tends to minimize their difficulty. Yet, as I was recently reminded, those
difficulties are real and there is a price to be paid for pushing yourself to
extremes.
When I talk about the “price” I am not talking about the
time put in for training or other considerations. I am talking about the price
of failure. That price can be steep--sometimes very steep. The question is
whether that price is worth it. This is something I ponder in every difficult
endeavor.
You see on every ultra-marathon, even though I am running solo, I have an unwelcome running partner who
is not very supportive. Running alongside me is the possibility of failure.
Because I am choosing to do something that is difficult for me, failure is a
stronger possibility than if I had played it safe.
I was running a rugged 50K trail race in Bear Mountain, New
York. The course was single-track, rocky, slippery, and had very few truly
runnable sections. I felt good about my pace and stayed cautious on the slick,
rocky parts. Then, while moving with the pack on a relatively flat stretch, I
relaxed for a moment, tripped, and fell hard. I threw out my arms to catch
myself, and the pain in my shoulder was immediately excruciating. With help
from other runners, I got back to my feet and knew my race was over. I have
fallen many times in trail races and am no stranger to pain. Usually, I shake
it off and keep going, even if I have to walk at first. This time, though, my
only thought was how to get medical help. I knew the injury was serious. It
turned out I had broken the humerus in my shoulder.
I couldn’t remember how far it was to the next aid station.
The other runners gave me conflicting answers from one mile to seven. While
there was an aid station in about a mile and a half it was just a table in the
woods with water. Even walking was painful as I had no use of my right arm. As
I walked I used my left hand to steady and hold up my right arm. I was extremely
lucky when two runners stopped to see if I needed help. One was trained in
first aid and said I needed to put my arm in a sling. The other runner who
didn’t know the first runner said “I have a roll of gauze.” And presto I
had a sling.
While the sling helped, I still had to walk 3.5 miles to take
a DNF (Did Not Finish). Yes, I had a solid reason for not finishing this race
but I still found it hard to accept that I failed to finish. My very reason for
running these races is to overcome difficult obstacles. As each runner passed
me the pain of the DNF was more acute. I tried to take solace in the fact that
if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I would have finished ahead of most of those runners.
Yet I was still down. There would be no finisher medal and t-shirt for me.
It’s not like I was unaware of the possibility. After all
when I registered for the race I had to sign a waiver that I was aware of the
risks of doing a race like this.
Yet it was not just the DNF and the excruciating pain that I was in that had me thinking. All of the races and runs I had planned for the next couple of months would not happen. There was also the matter of my daughter was getting married in two weeks.
It was at the wedding that I paid another price for my
injury. A couple of friends teased me about it. I had always said that
ultra-marathons were “fun” which I know most people besides ultra-runners get.
Now my friends wanted to know when the “fun” was starting. It is amazing how
the result of your performance affects people’s perception of your actions.
Last year I completed seven ultra-marathons and people complimented me and
admired my accomplishments. Now, after this injury I heard the loud whispers.
You are too old. This is too dangerous.
They obviously feel that the price I pay for pushing myself
is too high. There is no way it can be worth it.
The question is what do I think of the possible price to
attempt races that will test my limits? When I finish them, it is an easy answer.
But when I fail, take a DNF, and am seriously injured it is still an easy
answer. Yes, I would do the race again. In fact, I am scheduled to do the same
race again next year. Yes, the price was
steep for this challenge. Yet those challenges would not be so rewarding if
they were easy.
I have usually completed the hard races I’ve signed up for. That
success breeds resiliency. That resiliency is what I needed to walk out of the
forest and then drive over an hour home so my wife could get me medical care.
That may seem like a steep price for one race. Yet the price I pay is for a
lifestyle of doing hard things. When you look at all the races it is a small
price to pay. In fact, if I include the resiliency and satisfaction of
completing runs that were beyond my capabilities when I was younger, the price
is miniscule.
We should not only try things when the risk of failure is
very low. Easy victories are not life changing. Being afraid of failure will
most certainly limit your success. I will admit however that talking about
facing failure is easy when you succeed. For me now, I have to accept failure
and plan a comeback that will most definitely rely on resiliency. It will test my patience because this will be
a slow and methodical recovery.
This comeback will take more effort to get to the starting
line than most of my races took to get to the finish line. This will take more
self-motivation than normal. I do have a goal of doing an ultra-marathon in
September. It is a flat paved course so there is little risk of falling. Hey, I
may be daring, but I am not reckless,
Ironically my motivation now comes from those people who think
I should stop these races because of my age. Nothing motivates me more than
proving the doubters wrong.
So, I hope I answered the question about the price of the
challenge and whether it is worth it. Let me leave you with one final thought.
The people who tend to think that the price is too high for pushing yourself,
seem to be under the impression that there is no price or cost to bear doing
nothing and playing it safe. I believe that there is a price. A steep price in
fact. A life of wondering what if? Wondering what would have happened if you
tried. A life filled with would’ve and could’ve.
I am not willing to pay that price. As OneRepublic says “Yeah,
with every broken bone (literally in this case.) I swear I lived”.
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