A Run that Led me Back in Time to a Turning Point in my Life

As I started on my trail run, I was no more than a tenth of a mile into the woods when there was a loud clap of thunder. I paused but continued. Then there was another clap followed by some light rain. I paused again and started to turn around, but the rain then stopped. I was not worried about getting rained on and wet, though I probably should have been better prepared and brought my poncho. I was more concerned about my phones. I convinced myself that since I had them safely in a plastic bag within my running vest, that they should be okay and if it came down too hard, I could just cut my run short. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the thunder was a signal from the trail running gods that I was going to experience one of my most memorable moments on any run. I would meet up with someone who had a major impact on my life.

At the time I was oblivious to all this and was just trying to get in a good eight or nine mile run. On the run I saw three older gentlemen walking around the lake in which I also circled around. I actually saw them twice and they waved and encouraged me on. All three had the same T-shirt on with the emblem of a wildcat on it. I left the lake for another loop and would eventually return back to the lake and loop it again before traversing other parts of the Tourne County Park.

As I returned back to the lake loop I saw two of the same three gentlemen. I was not sure what had happened to the other man. They stopped and indicated that they wanted to talk. I find this happens often especially with people more elderly, they wonder who this gray-haired man is running for a long time. So we chatted a bit. They asked me how far I was running and were impressed that at the time I was on mile five but wanted to do eight or nine. Then they asked me where I live and somehow during my reply, I mentioned that I went to Boonton High School. The one gentleman then quickly pounced on that and asked “What is your name?” When I replied “Ray Pinney” His eyes lit up with joy. “I was your teacher!” I looked at him and realized that it was my old football coach Dave Gardner or DG as we used to call him.  “DG!” I shouted. “JC Pinney” He replied, using my old high school nickname which he had bestowed upon me during football practice.

Now I have not been coached by DG in forty-eight years but that does not mean I do not think of him. Outside of my parents and family I am hard pressed to think of anyone else who had more of an impact on me than DG. I was so elated to see him but what made me even happier was that he was just as excited as I was. We just hugged each other with pure joy.

I wish that I was more prepared to meet him because I would have waxed poetically about him, but it was such a surprise I was almost speechless. Our affection and respect for each other was obvious and the forty-eight years did nothing to lessen it. In fact, for my part it enhanced it, because now with some of the wisdom I have gained over my sixty-four years of living, I realized how fortunate I was to have DG coach me.  

While I was completely surprised, the lessons of our football drills came to me immediately. I didn’t have to go back far in the rolodex of my mind to find them because I had always kept them in the front of my mind. I did not keep them there to relive the glory days of my youth but more as lessons to help me navigate the present. I told him that I think of him often as well as the drills he lead on the football field. I wanted him to know that he impacted me greatly. Yet I was not sure it came across. You see I still consider myself an athlete, always competing.

His friend whose sons also went to Boonton High and played football though a couple of years ahead of and behind me, remarked to DG. “You seem to remember everyone!” Then DG said something that almost made me cry. “No, I don’t remember everyone just the special ones and Ray is very special.”

He even said I read about you a while back. I said, “My running the length of New Jersey?” He replied “Yeah that was amazing.”

The three of us chatted a while laughing and enjoying ourselves. We took a picture of DG and me.  Then there was a loud clap of thunder, and it seemed that the heavens were going to open up. I was a mile and a half away from my car, so we said our good byes.

As I headed down the trail, I felt so strong and light on my feet. Soon the thunder got louder and more frequent. Yet there was no rain. It was then that I realized that it was the trail gods again admonishing me. Though they did not want to spoil everyone else’s day since it was my mistake that they were upset about.  They were upset for me not saying one thing to DG: “Thank You!” He really helped make me a better man. To make matters worse I didn’t even have his cellphone number to send him the picture.

I relived those times with him and how they are still with me all these years later. When I got home, I told my wife about my encounter.  She really knew nothing about his impact but when I told her the story she said “This was no coincidence. The universe was trying to tell you something.” She was right, I had to do something.

Hopefully he reads this somehow. But maybe more importantly he will read the next blog in which I describe his impact. Thank You Coach

Running in Strange Places

I was a bit nervous and excited as I put on my running shoes to head out for my morning run. Some things were exactly the same as any other day. I had my coffee and scrolled through the internet and social media. I told my wife “I will be back soon.” (Which is not always the truth on my runs.) We were on a vacation in Litchfield County, Connecticut and I had no idea what my route would be or what the distance would be. I would just go out and run until I got to a place that seemed to be a good place to turn around and head back.

When I am away, the running is different. I almost feel like I am cheating on my normal running routine. While I love my regular runs there is something different when you are running in a strange place. On my usual runs I have several routes. They vary in length and terrain but every tree, house, and hill, is familiar. I even see the same people on the run. It screams home with every step.

When I am away it is different. It’s a flirtatious relationship, running somewhere else. With every step it screams a new land. It is hard to explain, but while I traverse the area on my two feet, away from the souvenir shops and tourist traps, I feel I understand and am connected to the area. I seem to understand its uniqueness a little better.

There was the time when I was running on a trail near Santa Cruz, California and it was beautiful. I can still remember a cow mooing, which seemed just around the corner but was actually across the valley below about a half mile away. When I returned back to the hotel I couldn’t help but notice the large amount of dry dirt in my shoes and realized that despite the vegetation around me this was a relatively dry place. When I hear about their difficulty with wildfires I understand.

On a trip to Ireland I got out and ran on a country road which eventually became narrower and narrower. The flowers along the roadside encroaching closer to me with every step, along with the sound of the buzzing bees. In the background the bleating of the sheep in the pasture grew louder. A few days later I am running along the coast and the wind is howling and a light rain starts to fall but the wind makes it feel heavy, making every simple step difficult. This is a land of beauty but is also not a place for the meek.

On my current run in Litchfield County, CT with every step I can feel the Yankee roots of New England. The country road I am on seems to be one large house after another on huge plots of land. It also seems to shout wealth, old money, New England aristocracy. The houses definitely have the architecture of Saltbox Cape Cods and British Colonials which harken back to our nations beginning. Some buildings have been there for over 200 years. There are many stone walls dating back to previous generations. The stone walls are clues that years ago this was mostly farmland. Yet as the farms moved out and houses moved in, the rock walls remained. Mother Nature with her trees began to reclaim some of the land.

The current residents of New England still seem to still hold on to their farming heritage and embrace the history of their land even if they are not farming it. It is like those stone walls even though the world has changed around them, the New Englander’s heritage remains.

The road is narrow, winding, and is on rolling hills. There is very little flat ground. When I enter the forest the next day the trails are much like my New Jersey trails, rocky and hilly. If you placed me there blindfolded I could not name the state I was in. It does not scream New England but does scream that it is definitely a Northeastern part of the country.

Sometimes I feel like a strange runner in a familiar place. I just take off!  I may be running down roads that do not regularly have people running on them. The reactions of people driving their cars indicate they are surprised to see a runner here.  I can tell by the look of the people as I run by their house that they are wondering who that is. They know I am no threat though. Afterall, whoever thinks of runners as dangerous? Odd yes. Dangerous never.

Though I will say runners can be a danger to themselves. This is especially true if we do not know where we are going.  On this trip I took a turn and the road just kept going and going, downhill for two miles. This is not really a bad thing till you realize on your way back you will be running uphill those same two miles. On another occasion I was in a state park in California and the trails looked easy enough from the park map at the trailhead as well as my online map. It was just a few trails. Yet when I started running all of a sudden, there were trails and intersections not on the map and no trails were marked. Not only that but there was no internet connection so my online map was useless. I did make it back to the lot by asking for directions from a local hiker. (My excuse was “I am from New Jersey and don’t understand your trails.” Which I am sure convinced him that all runners from New Jersey are dolts.)

Yet even my mistakes on these runs are memorable. They are part of my travel log.  I will snap pictures of historic sites and reminisce about the cuisine or beautiful parks. I also store all these runs in my memory.

These are not runs with a fitness goal in mind.  I slow down to take in everything around me. It is a very personal experience and one that ties me to the location. Much more than a car drive to a spot that helped make the location a vacation destination. It is also just my solitary experience. It is my feet, my legs, and all my senses, taking in the location.

I remember the views of the runs. I remember times when I entered a normally busy tourist town early in the morning before all the businesses opened and the streets were empty. “It is my town now.” I thought to myself. These runs are also usually early morning so I get to watch a location wake up to a new day.

This trip is coming to an end. Just a few more runs. I will try a different turn today and see where it takes me. Yet like someone who looks forward to sleeping in their own bed after a trip. I am looking forward to running my regular runs again. There is also something comforting about every twist and turn of a route being familiar. It will feel like home.

Setbacks are Part of Comebacks and Life

I was making good time as I ran this rugged trail and was feeling good about my first trail race in six months. I had suffered a stress fracture on my knee and had methodically been rehabbing my training and I was confident that my knee would be able to stand up to the rigors of a rocky and rugged trail race of seventeen miles in the beautiful Stokes State Forest Park. It had been almost six months since I had run a trail race because of the stress fracture in my knee. I had done a 5k road race as a trial and all that did was show me how far that I had to go, to get back in shape. Yet I felt that a couple of months later I was in good enough shape to do this race.

This was my comeback run. My return to running races on a regular basis. It was great to be in the running scene again. Especially trail running. You cannot meet a greater group of people.

It was a perfect day for trail running. In the morning in the high 60’s and while it was August the temperature would stay in the 70’s. I was a few miles in and had just settled into a good pace. I was feeling good when I felt a sharp pain in my right leg and I knew exactly what it was. The good news was that it was not my knee. The bad news was that I was just stung by a hornet and it hurt. This was immediately followed by another bite. I spent the next quarter mile swatting my legs at imaginary hornets without losing my stride. A couple of miles later I was running just behind another runner when she stopped and yelled in pain “What was that?” I could see the hornets buzzing around her and I yelled “Keep going bees. We can’t stay here!” we moved quickly slapping ourselves to no avail. I was stung a couple of more times this time on my left leg.

I continued on to the first aid station at mile 7.5 and was feeling pretty good. I was in a group of four runners who were at the same pace. This was a trail race and it was a rocky course and as I was running I slightly twisted my left ankle a few times. Yet I was feeling good but at mile nine I started to notice a slight pain in my left ankle and foot. I slowed down hoping that would give my body time to recover. Yet every time I stepped on a rock or uneven part of the trail (Which was basically every other step.) the pain would shoot up.

I had been worried about my right knee so much that it never even occurred to me that I could injure anything else. By mile ten I was walking and running and the running was very slow. I kept pushing on because basically I had no choice. I knew that the next aid station was at mile 13.5 but that was just water and that there would likely be no one there to help me.  So I kept telling myself I just need to move one mile at a time, first eleven than twelve miles. It was slow and painful. At one point I saw a large rock that I could sit on and plopped down. I tried to straighten out and take the weight off of my left ankle when all of a sudden my whole left leg from ankle to my hip went into a spasm and I loudly winced in pain as well as shock. I have never felt anything like this before. I have cramped up but that was usually in an isolated spot like my calf or quad. This was my entire leg. I stopped resting.

I continued on but was pretty much just walking now. I came upon a downed tree on the trail and was forced to go almost on all fours to get under it. When I was almost clear of the tree the pain reappeared and I yelled with the pain. It just so happens that another runner was coming upon me and asked worriedly “Are you alright?”  I replied “I will just have to keep moving.”  That shooting pain that froze me in my tracks occurred one more time, I was thinking that at the aid station maybe I could lie down and wait for a volunteer who was refilling the water to come and hitch a ride back. I hated quitting but I was in pain and did not want to make my injury worse.

When I came upon the aid station I contemplated my options. Maybe lay down and wait or limp for 3.5 miles.  I decided to limp the rest of the way. Mainly because I was afraid if I laid down that pain would come back. I was wondering if the bee stings were somehow connected to this pain.

I trudged on slowly being passed by so many runners that it was deflating. I also noticed that my right knee was starting to ache. This concerned me since if this injury came back, I would be sidelined for months. This was my comeback run and it was going horribly bad. This limping and favoring my right leg may have been causing the pain.

The last two miles a couple of runners stopped to see how I was doing. First was Maria a woman that I had seen at numerous races over the years. She said “What are you doing back here? You are normally closer to the front.” It was nice to hear that but I explained my injury. She had one Ibuprofen which I gladly accepted though I knew one was not enough.

A short time later another woman stopped. She had parked next to me at the parking lot and we had chatted. She too offered to help but I told her to go on.

Finally in the last mile my friend Dave came up and said he would stay with me but I told him to go on.

As I came to the last third of a mile I was really not looking forward to it. It was a slightly technical descent and I knew that it would be painful. As I started down the trail there was my friend Dave with his trekking poles. Which were a lifesaver. Even with them it hurt with every step going down. He said that there was a woman who was also going to come with poles until she realized that they were both helping the same person. That is what I love about trail runners, they are so supportive.

I finished the race but I was in pain. I took some ibuprofen and drove home. My ankle throbbing the entire forty-minute ride home.

My comeback was a setback. One of my worst outings as a runner. While the physical pain bothered me it was the mental aspect of falling short which really bothered me. I was thinking that maybe I was getting too old. While walking I noticed some beautiful landscapes along the trail but my sour mood prevented me from going to my cellphone to take pictures.

Yet setbacks are just that setbacks, they are not endings. (Unless you decide it is an ending.) I have suffered many setbacks in my life not just in my running challenges but in my professional life as well. In all cases setbacks are a time to pause and reflect as to what went wrong and how you can do things better. I find setbacks are great motivators. When I pulled a hamstring on my first Tough Mudder or when I got lost on my first ultra marathon. I was down but looked at my effort and returned the following year and did much better. At work I was not promoted when I thought I should have been, but I reflected on my skills and stayed with it and eventually got promoted.

Too often when things go wrong, we say never again. We don’t reflect on it and look at what we can do differently to achieve our goal.  In this case even before my ankle had healed I had figured out my mistake.

When I posted about my tough race on Facebook. Someone posted “That I should listen to my body.” Actually I was thinking I should have listened to my wife. She had said that I should have done more trail runs before this race and she was right. I had not trained right. So, after my ankle healed. I have adjusted my training program. I also carry bug repellant.

 

 

Don’t Take the Easy Path

A few years back I was walking along the path for the tour of the High Falls Gorge in the Adirondacks and there was a fork on the trail.  There in front of me, was a huge sign with an arrow and big bold letters that said “EASY PATH”! It was basically shouting at me and others “Don’t be a dolt and risk the other path.” Interestingly enough the other path had no sign but it was tacitly saying “Difficult Path”. I looked at the “non-easy path” and yes it was steep and wet but hardly treacherous and it gave you better views of the powerful waterfalls and gorge, yes you may get wet from the mist but there was a fence guard rail and other safety features and as I stated earlier it was hardly treacherous. 

The “easy path” was very nice and eventually led you to a distance view of the gorge and waterfalls but there was no mist of water on your face, no peeking over a steep cliff, and no steep climb, it was like viewing the waterfall on a high definition TV. 

It struck me that this fork in the road happens all the time in life. We are confronted with choices. While there may not be the big sign telling us the “Easy Path” we really don’t need it. We intrinsically know it. The “Easy Path” is safer with less risks and challenges. It is almost certain that the “Difficult Path” will entertain more risks and challenges. It is also certain that one of those risks - is failure.

While I have always gravitated towards the more “difficult path” in my life. With raising a family and trying to create a career, the “easy path” sometimes seem to be the only option. Then I began to take up running and things began to change.

Once I started running, I found out one thing more obvious about the difficult path – it leads to more and more paths. You start out and you can barely finish a 5K but something inside of you tells you yes I could have done better.  If I work a little harder, I can do it quicker and if I try a little harder, I can run farther.  Before you know it you are signing up for a 10K, or maybe even a half marathon.

At least that is what happened to me. I ran to get in shape for a Warriors Dash but after completing the race I realized that if I did not sign up for another race I may fall prey to the “easy path” so I quickly signed up for a Tough Mudder.  This kept me focused on running and training. One difficult path lead to another difficult path.  Soon there were Spartan Races and grueling trail races.  The “difficult path” kept presenting me with choices that were much more  interesting. Before I knew it. I signed up for a fifty-mile trail run and that lead to a series of ultra-marathons including a 100 mile run.

I realized soon that the reason I was avoiding the “Easy Path” was not that I was being a contrarian (Okay I will admit that I am a bit of a contrarian.) but that I was seeking challenges. It is one reason I love the running community, people are always seeking out challenges.  You see it posted all the time, runners all the time asking for advice as they attempt their first half, full, or ultra-marathon.  It is hard to describe the feeling of conquering such challenges but there is a sense of accomplishment and pride that permeates every molecule in your body. That includes the sore ones and maybe they feel it the most because those are your souvenirs of your accomplishment.

While I am painting a very positive picture of seeking out challenges and conquering them and basking in your success. There are two things that you should know about seeking challenges.

First, you will suffer setbacks and failure.  My first ultra-marathon, which was a fifty-mile race, was not very pretty. While I finished, it took me almost seventeen hours as I made a wrong turn and ended up walking the last twenty miles or so. My first Tough Mudder, I also finished but I was literally limping to the finish line. These setbacks however motivated me that I could do them even better the second time if I avoided my mistakes. Which I did.

Second, this feeling of searching for challenges to take on and conquer - is very addicting. As I described earlier I came to running ultra-marathons, because I kept seeking challenges.  I believe other ultra-runners took similar journeys. The problem is that the feeling doesn’t last forever and before you know it you need your race-fix again.

Actually, I made a mistake. There is a third thing that you should know. That is unless you decide to take the “difficult path”, you will never know what you are capable of. The “easy path” is one that maintains limits while the difficult path pushes the limits.

This is true in life as well as running. You probably see it at work. People who are very good at doing the bare minimum. We sometimes have to push and challenge ourselves. Our greatest achievements in life were almost always, a time we conquered a difficult challenge. Easy paths do not provide that same sense of accomplishment.

I am not saying we have to push ourselves to our limits every day. In fact, most of my runs are “easy” runs not pushing myself to the limits but preparing myself for the next major challenge.  Yet I am always on the lookout and preparing for a challenge because those options pop up often.

When the opportunity arises, and you are confronted with a choice of two paths. Which will you select?

Shaking Hands with Father Time

I have been in many competitions over the course of my life and I know what it feels like to win and what it feels like to lose.  Unfortunately, I have definitely been on the losing side more often than the winning side.  In every competition there comes a point when you know that you or your team cannot win. It is at that time when you are being tested the most. It is easy to coast and go through the motions when you know that you are overmatched or cannot win.  I am in that situation now.  I am in a battle I know that I cannot win.  I am in a battle with Father Time. As we all know Father Time is undefeated as even Tom Brady found out.

What started out as a mild and fun skirmish with Father Time is now growing more intense with haymakers being thrown and the battle now more personal than ever before. When I first started to battle Father Time I was turning fifty and had realized that while I was in rather good shape if I continued on my somewhat sedentary life I would age rather fast. I originally wanted to just be fit enough to walk and hike miles in the woods. Nothing special much like a man wanting to play golf on a regular basis when he retires. Father Times likes it that way. You are conceding the battle early because he has convinced you, that in your mind, you are old.

Somewhere along the line I stopped thinking I was getting old. That I still had something left in my tank. I started doing Tough Mudders, Spartans and tough trail races. Each year while I was aging I was also pushing myself to do even harder and tougher events. I will let you know that Father Time does not like that and there is a reason he is undefeated.  He fights dirty. He will pull a muscle here, sprain and ankle there, and take away a little agility. All reminders that you are getting old. Just relax and all those aches and pains will go away he is telling you.

All those little injuries hit me, but they did not deter me. They actually inspired me, to not only continue but to be smarter about my fitness. Soon in my sixties I was able attain my greatest athletic achievements of my life, running a 100 miles twice not to mention almost a two hundred mile trek across the length of New Jersey. I was feeling great about my health and fitness and definitely not feeling old.

Father Time was not amused and decided to remind me who the champion was by landing a couple of haymakers. First, he hit me below the belt with a punch to my knee and I suffered a stress fracture on my right knee sidelining me for a few months from any running. Then people I know around my age started suffering serious health and physical injuries. As I said Father Time does not fight fair attacking not only you but the ones around you. He is intent on breaking your spirit and having you concede that you are old.

I have to admit, I was reeling with my injury. The more I did nothing, the harder it was to regain the fitness intensity I had. Yet when I had first suffered my injury I had confidently and with a little cockiness told my doctor I would do another ultra-marathon and send him the picture so that others would know it was possible. I also pushed for physical therapy so I could focus on my comeback.

Despite my bravado it is not easy because my confidence has been sapped. However, with every run it starts to grow. I not only need to build up my physical strength but more importantly my mental strength. That will really piss off Father Time. That is what he wants to do. He wants to break your spirit.

Obviously, Father Time is the toughest competitor I have ever faced. I have a strange dream and goal pertaining to Father Time. At the end of a tough race or any sporting contest the competitors shake hands at the end acknowledging each other’s efforts.

When my time comes on Earth, and I hopefully ascend to the pearly gates. The first face I want to see is not any deceased family or friends. I know that sounds wrong but there will be eternity for that. I want to be greeted by Father Time.

I want to shake hands with Father Time. I am hoping that he says “Pinney you really were one of the hardest people I had to fight.” I would then reply “Thank you Father Time our battle made me a better man.”  Then I would kick him in the knee with all my strength and say “Two can play at that game!” Look I said I lost a lot I never said I liked it.

A Comeback Needing to Blend the Body and the Mind and Confronting Fear

I have given a few presentations to groups based on my ultra running adventures and why I do ultra marathons. One of my main points that I usually say is that I have eliminated the word later from my vocabulary. If I am thinking I want to do something I need to do it now and not put it off to later. We tend to always wait for the “right time” to do things. So later is too often the easy choice. I would argue (quite convincingly I might add.) that later is the wrong choice during my presentations. Now I feel somewhat like a hypocrite in that all I can think of is what I will be doing later!

That is because I am recovering from a stress fracture and that takes time. If you look at me you would not know that I am injured. I can walk easily, do yard work, go up stairs easily, and even go into a short run easily. Probably that would be enough for most men in their sixties but not me. I want to not just run again but run long distances like ultra-marathons. The motto that hangs on the wall at the Jag One Physical Therapy is Get Back the Life you Love! That means for me rehabbing for later.

I have always believed and chronicled it in previous blogs that the mental game is a key component of completing any grueling race. Staying focused on the goal and not letting obstacles stop you. I have found that is not only true on a race but also on a comeback. It is a combination of mental grit and physical training. A complete blend of body and mind.

I always thought I had a good blend of body and mind when I ran grueling trail races or ultra-marathons but I am finding getting that right blend on a comeback much more difficult. That is because this mental game is different. It is also because I am distracted by fear. Fear that the injury will return. Fear that I may never be able to go back to that life I love. It is hard to have a strong mind when you are filled with fear. Fear also saps your self-confidence. The reason I could complete so many runs was that I had no fear. I could confront any challenge whether it was weather, terrain, or pain and just keep moving forward with confidence. But now fear has me stuck in the same place..

It was time to confront my fear. I had to try and run again. My fear however, is well founded. Because if I come back too soon I could suffer a relapse and then I am starting all over again.

I step out of my car take a few steps and look around the park. It is a beautiful day and a great one for a run. Yet I am nervous. This will be my first run in over three months. Well technically I did run before but that was on an anti-gravity treadmill so I was not at full weight.

I start exceedingly slowly on this completely flat and soft cinder path. Perfect for my first run. As I run I can’t help but concentrate on how my right knee feels. Something I have been doing for months. Every twinge and ache I notice. With every twinge I wonder if the injury has not healed. Then as I run something happens. I can’t recall when it occurred because it is that I realized that I had forgotten about my knee. I was just running and not thinking about my knee. That is a great sign. It is funny but that was when I first started thinking of running again. When I would go through the day and completely forget I was injured.

With every step I took I could feel the fear start to leave my body and my confidence grow. It wasn’t completely gone because I still have to be careful on this recovery. This is the difficult part for me. Normally I push through difficult moments but with this injury I have to also take my foot off the gas pedal and slow down not rev the engine to get through.

That run, was only part one. I had to see how my knee felt that night and the next day. You would think that that would be easy but when you focus on one part every twitch seems serious. Several times I would be walking or even laying down and I would say that pain is not good only to realize it was my left knee that was hurting which was my good knee!  In addition, the ache and pain had to be the same as it was when I had the stress fracture and to be honest, I was having a hard time remembering how the pain felt. Afterall not all pain is the same.

Despite my rather poor self-diagnostic skills my knee seemed okay and I ran again. I should note that these were not straight runs but I would run for ten minutes and the walk for five, The next two times increasing the times of running while decreasing the time of walking. I also never ran back-to-back days.

Even running gently at this public park my mind gets in the way. I am running this flat easy track when I was known for rugged terrain and long distances. I feel like a major league ballplayer now back playing the minor leagues. One time when I stopped running to go into my walk cycle, a runner was coming the opposite way and he tried to be encouraging yelled “Don’t stop keep going!” I was embarrassed that to him I looked like an old man who couldn’t keep up the pace. I yelled back “I have an interval plan.” I felt like stopping him and telling him my whole story.  That way he wouldn’t think that I was just another pathetic old man trying to run. Yet doing that would have been even more pathetic.

Those interval runs had been six or seven miles in length each. While it was obvious I was out of shape because my leg muscles ached much more than my knee after the runs.  I knew if I was careful things should be okay. While the fear is not completely gone, and I will do my comeback slowly, I was confident enough to sign up for a short 5K. Obviously later was not an option.

Behind Every Badass is a Mom Who is Badder

I sometimes kinda picture myself as an AARP badass. I am in my sixties running ultra-marathons and rugged trail races. Not something that many people do my age or even at any age. I have run through snow, rain, and mud so sloppy that I can’t see my feet. I love it. Because when I am doing these things I feel so alive.

I believe that to do these things you have to have an inner grit and toughness. Obstacles appear on a regular basis testing your will to go on. The ability to overcome the obstacles makes me feel like a so called “badass”. I thought that it was completely an inner will power that I had nurtured completely on my own. I was pretty impressed with myself until the moment occurred when I realized that I was full of shit! That occurred in a hospital emergency room. It was then I realized that maybe genetics may have played a role in my badassiness.

I was in the emergency room with my 95 year old mother. Waiting patiently for all her test results to come in and tell us what was wrong. It was over six hours and her patience with the wait had reached its limit. When the doctor came in to discuss her condition. At one point the doctor asked her “How was your walking right before you came here?”

My mother quickly responded “Fine no problem. No cane, no problem.”

The doctor was pleased with her answer and then was going to make plans to discharge her.

After the doctor left I said “Mom that does not jive with what Denise (my sister) told me.”

She looked at me and said “I know but I wasn’t going to tell her that!”

She wanted to get discharged and she knew what to say.

That wasn’t the first time I had blatantly observed my mother lie to a medical doctor over her condition. On another time after she had been hospitalized she was seeing her general practitioner. The doctor asked her “How is your appetite? Are you eating enough?” She responded in the positive “Yes I am eating normally.” Now I knew at the time, that this was not true at all. I interjected “Mom that’s not true! You are not eating.” She responded by kicking me in front of the doctor for tattling on her. She was 92 years old at the time.

The point is not that my mom is a bad patient. In fact later in the emergency room we came clear with the doctor and she was admitted as a patient.

No, it is that I just realized how she is always pushing forward thinking that she will persevere. A positive outlook that she will get through some tough things. Believe me that later in life she has had some tough times with her health but she always pushes forward. She is amazingly very alert and with it, particularly at 95.

Maybe it is that generation. She was part of the “Greatest Generation” that lived and grew up in the Great Depression and World War II. My father was also that way. Always pushing forward and never giving in, until cancer took him at age 84.

This is not a happy go lucky type of optimism that ignores the obstacles but focuses on overcoming the obstacles. Looking back I noticed that they both employed this attitude in all aspects of their life not just their health. Both working hard to raise a family while high incomes were not easy to come by.

It is funny I did not really dwell on my mom’s toughness and dogged determination until I began reflecting on how I get through some tough runs. Some of my fellow runners were always impressed not with my speed, gait, gear, or my strength. I really do not stand out in any of these areas. What they would complement me on, was my determination. Many others would stop running and not push themselves when the weather or terrain got bad. I just took the obstacles as a challenge to overcome, just like my parents persevered through life.

Now I know that my greatest athletic asset is this dogged determination, which is not completely of my own making but comes from my mother. Someone who you would not be associated with rigorous physical activity. She is well under five feet tall and all of 90 pounds. Yet she is the toughest person I know.

While I am very happy and proud that I have inherited my mother’s toughness for my runs I am even happier that these traits are even more valuable in everyday life. That is because everyday life sometimes throws obstacles at you that are tougher than any trail race. 

As I write this I am once again in a medical facility waiting for my wife to come out from a routine medical procedure. On the television in the waiting room is some morning talk show that I have never heard of, but then again most week day mornings I work and if I am off, either running or doing a chore.  Ironically the guest who comes on is the author of the book You are a Badass, Jen Sincero. I am too far away to follow the conversation closely but then again I don’t need to. I don’t need to read a book to learn how to be a badass. I have my mother.