The Essence of Being and Becoming a Runner

As I approached the registration tent for this 5K I could not help but notice how different it was to the race I had competed the previous weekend. That race was a 24 hour, 100 mile or 48 hour endurance race. With the 100-mile mark on almost everyone’s goal list. This was a taco themed fun 5K to raise money for a charity. At the endurance race it was a group of runners who had set up tents for their own aid stations and were serious about logging miles. At the 5k some were dressed in costume and it was more about the comradery and less about the miles. I was thinking that there were probably very few people like me who had run over 100 miles in a race and then signed up for a 5k right after it.

At the endurance race, my goal was to hit the 100-mile mark before the 30 hour mark.  That is the usual cutoff time for a 100-mile race and when you earn a buckle which is a goal of many an ultra-runners. I met my goal rather easily. My friend Dave however, wanted to go the furthest he could in 48 hours and did 135 miles which is pretty impressive. During this race since it is a loop race you talk with other runners, and we talk about strategy and other races. We talk goals and we all encourage ourselves.

At this 5K, my tactic and goal was completely different. I would not run for a good 5K time. For this race I was not competing even against myself. It was more to show my friend Crystal support. She had asked me to join her on this 5K. I had told Crystal and her friend Heather I would run with them. Afterall Crystal was only running because of me. She had heard me speak about my experience running the length of New Jersey and was inspired to begin running again.

There were frivolities all around us and we were joking and at ease ourselves before we started. Yet when the race started both Heather and Crystal became focused. We tried to settle into a nice pace that would get us to the finish line in a respectable time. They had done a 5K about a month before and they had gone out too fast. Which I explained to them is very common even among experienced runners. The adrenaline is pumping, and you see all the other runners and you naturally speed up.  One of the things you have to learn is to block out the other runners and run your own race. Try not to get caught up in the excitement. Much easier said than done. We however did settle into a steady pace for the first mile.

At that mile mark I noticed that Heather’s breathing was irregular and that she was struggling. She soon said that she needed to walk.  She told us to go on. Crystal said she might need to walk soon too so that Heather would not feel down about walking. Yet Crystal and I continued on for another mile at the same pace. In fact, it was slightly faster than the first mile but there was a downhill in this section.  But we would be returning on that same section going uphill soon.

Crystal kept plugging along and I think the uphill slowed her down. Hills not only sap your energy physically but mentally.  When she indicated that she wanted to walk I pointed out a bend in the road and said let’s run to there. It was my way of getting her to run a little more than she would normally. Which she did. We than walked the hill and talked. She had run cross-country in high school and was now just trying to start running again. Both her and Heather are young mothers so having time for themselves is a rare occurrence. I could relate since I had raised a family. I told her my runs were times I was in control of schedule when it seems like I was in control of nothing else. I think that a lot of runners like that moment to themselves running.

We were approaching the last half mile and I said at the upcoming bend we can start running again that it is always good to run to the finish line. She agreed. This last portion of the race we ran and she pushed herself. When we crossed the finish line, she was tired. Her face was red and she sat down on the curb to catch her breath and drink some water. She had pushed herself hard. After watching her I turned around because I wanted to greet Heather at the finish line. I have found that a supportive face at the finish line makes one feel happy. I almost didn’t recognize her because she had taken her jacket off and was now in a bright blue shirt. She crossed the line with a big smile on her face. I gave her a high five. She looked strong and was only a couple of minutes behind us.

It was at this moment at the end when I saw the essence of being and becoming a runner in both of them. They both talked about their improvement from their last run and they had both pushed themselves hard and challenged themselves.  While the distance was not close to the endurance run that Dave and I had done the weekend before. The two of them had pretty much done the same thing as us. They had pushed themselves to their limits. They had analyzed their performance and how they can improve.  They also had fun as we ate our tacos and enjoyed the comradery of other runners. They were now officially runners.

I thought to myself that they don’t know it yet but they will be doing longer distances. I know that both of them will say “Ray you are crazy. This 5K is enough.” I however see a half marathon in their future. They are both very determined and focused women. They will soon conquer the 5K and will push themselves again. When Crystal finishes a half marathon or dare, I say a full marathon. I don’t know whether she will thank me or curse me. Probably both.

The other thing about being a runner is the friendships you build. Dave and I usually do a few races together in the year. We are constantly scouring the internet looking for races. It is almost an addictive behavior. We see many of the same runners at the races and every race is a very supportive environment. It is nice to be around supportive people because it pushes you challenge yourself.

Shortly after the race Crystal texted me with a link to another race and asked me if I was interested. She is definitely now a runner.

Thank You Coach DG

I was a skinny high school sophomore at Boonton High School in the mid 1970’s. I decided to try out for the football team. I had always been a pretty good athlete but now the competition was different. There were so many guys on the team almost all of them bigger than me. I was not even 150 pounds at that time. Though very few were faster than me. Frankly I was a little intimidated by all this. The upperclassman seemed like men to me. I mean many of them had facial hair. While I was a bit intimidated, I was also determined to stick it out and even play some JV.

If I was smart, I would have said that with my size that I wanted to play as a defensive back but some how I was with the defensive ends, which in our high school’s scheme was like an outside linebacker. After all the general drills we broke up into our units and I was with a group of strong large players. I was one of the smallest players.

Coach Gardner (DG as we affectionately called him) selected one of the other sophomores and assigned him the task of selecting where we would practice our drills. Now at the time our fields were among the worst of all the high schools because of their overuse. The player selected a spot with some nice grass not too far from where we were standing.   The veteran players had a glint in their eyes because they knew what was going to happen. All of a sudden DG burst into a high pitched yell and bellowed “We are not going to practice on the grass! We are going to practice on the rocks, dirt and glass! We are defensive ends we are tougher!” We all then ran to the worst section of the fields with joy.

That was my first encounter with DG and that was just one lesson among many that has stayed with me.

Lesson 1 – Turning a disadvantage into an advantage. All the students at the school used to look enviously at some of the other school’s facilities. It was obvious to them that they would be better athletes because they had better facilities. Coach Gardner, however, took our disadvantage and made our unit believe we were tougher than the others because of this disadvantage.     It was brilliant and our unit was always among the best. In life we too often readily accept obstacles as an excuse for not succeeding.

DG was a master motivator and could use anything to his advantage. Frankly his pregame pep talks were legendary. They would make Knute Rockne sound like a Kindergarten teacher.

Lesson 2 – Determination and toughness can take you far. That first year I was not the best player. Not even close!  But I wanted to be on the team. The drills that we had to do were not easy. Success would be measured by just completing them. I know that nowadays these drills may seem excessively violent, but it was the way it was then and frankly I think they helped me later in life. One drill we did was that we had to go through a gauntlet of paired blockers. Not around them but through them. I remember my fear about doing this drill the first time. I was smaller than most and could not really use my greatest strength, my quickness to go around them. Yet I attacked them and made it through eventually.

In this case toughness was not physical it was more mental. Getting through this drill made me aware that I was capable of more than I thought. When I do long ultra marathons, I find that this toughness is not just physical, it’s mental grit. It’s getting through a difficult situation. In life we always encounter disappointment. Like that gauntlet we must keep moving forward with determination and toughness.

Lesson 3 – Having someone believing in you makes a huge difference. While I “survived “my sophomore year, I began to blossom my junior year. I was a little bigger and stronger. DG would coach me hard and tell me where I could improve. Previously my coaches would tell me basics and let me just use my natural athletic ability. Coach Gardner had me focus on eliminating my bad habits. Bad habits that I could get away with when I was younger but no longer could. He also made me focus on the mental aspect of the game reading the offenses and staying in my lane.

His belief in me was evident to everyone. He started calling me “JC Pinney” an obvious connection to the department store. When he yelled my name there was a hint of affection in his voice.  I heard the not so quiet whispers when I was called “Gardner’s son”. It angered me a bit because it was not like he gave me special breaks. Looking back now maybe there was a little affection on his part. For my part there was a deep need to please him and not let him down. I needed to reward his faith in me.

Having someone believe in you can make you perform better. That is true in all aspects of life not just sports.

Lesson 4 – Confidence is necessary. It is very important to have someone believe in you but that will only take you so far. What you need is to believe in yourself. In high school I had very little confidence but with some success on the football field my confidence began to grow. My junior year I was one of only four juniors to receive a letter on a senior laden team with great talent. DG’s coaching had worked. For maybe the first time in my life I felt comfortable about my ability. My senior year DG was not coaching because he wanted to have time to watch his son play his senior year of football. I really missed him, but his two years of tutelage had done its job.

It is funny, confidence is something that is not always permanent and if you start to lose it your performance suffers no matter what you are doing. My greatest successes in life always occurred because I was confident.

Confidence also comes from doing your homework, using your ability and working hard. Not just in sports but in all facets of life. I have learned that in my life but the building block for that knowledge was built on the football field with coach Gardner.

During my chat with DG at the Tourne (See previous blog about our chance meeting.) he said with joy “JC seeing you not only made my day. It made my year!” My reply which eluded me at the time is “DG having you coach me made me a better man.”

 

 

 

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.