I am a runner.
First I was a kid. I
still act like one sometimes. Then I became
a husband. Marriage is easy compared to
what came next. Parenting. As rewarding as it is, being a parent feels
like a crapshoot – we never know how our actions will affect our children. Somewhere in there I went to school and
became a lawyer. My dad always told me that
“the law is a jealous mistress.” I find
it to be a means to an end. My mistress
is the trail. She is the one who lures
me away from my family. She is my
weakness. I am a kid, a husband, and a
dad – but without knowing the trail, it is not possible to truly know me.
I am not that good at running. I used to be a heel-striker. Now, I am mostly a mid-foot striker. Rarely am I a forefoot striker, but I like to
read about those who can do it for effortless, endless miles. When I get tired, which is often, I go back
to heel-striking. I do not run fast, and
will never win a race, but I have never dropped. I am a “middle of the pack” runner. It’s okay with me.
When I first started to buy shoes for running I was
intimidated, and always asked the assistant what he or she thought about the
different shoes. Now, I find that their
comments show a lack of knowledge about ultra running. Most shoe companies don’t even make a 2E or 4E
trail shoe, so it doesn’t matter. I blow
out the side of the “extra-wide toebox” in the first few hundred miles of use,
or I cut the shoe open and put tape over it to accommodate my feet. I recently found the perfect shoes –
let’s hope they do not modify them anytime soon.
Once I started running Ultras, I learned that walking is
acceptable – now I walk too much. It is
pretty stupid to walk during a 10-mile training run when I don’t have to, but I
like it. I do it because I get to appreciate
the trail I am on and stay outside for an extra 5 minutes. I get crabby when I do not run for more than a
day or two, unless I am in the middle of nowhere, with my family, enjoying
nature. Even then, on vacation, my
family notices a difference. They tell
me to take a run. So I do.
My left pinky toe is totally inadequate for running. It likes to slide underneath the next toe
over, cycling through blisters all year long. The only time I do not get the blister is when I have a callus
formed from a previous blister . . . drained, refilled, and slowly formed over
the past week’s runs. Sometimes
blood wells up underneath the gummy callus, and I get a new blister, but
a clean sewing needle can fix anything. As long as I can run the next day, I
feel right by my treatment. After I
run in the pouring rain or through a stream, my callus sloughs off, and the
process begins again.
Running in the Midwest is like raising children – I am
fascinated by the current stage of Nature, but am always ready to see what’s in store
next. Of course I enjoy Fall. It offers crisp, clean air and the turning of
the leaves. It is when the Midwest
really shines. Winter here, while
difficult to come to grips with, is a quiet meditative time. Seeing hoarfrost envelope dead leaves still
clinging to prairie grass is a gift not many receive. And never do I feel as resilient as I do during
the post-run thaw. The Spring brings new smells,
vibrant colors, and the shedding of layers. That leaves the summer humidity, and it . . . . well, it helps me relish
the other three seasons.
I live for the long run. It is an opportunity to experience a full range of emotion in a 5 or 6
hour outing. I am invincible yet
downtrodden. I experience moments of
genius tempered by stupidity. I am the meaningless
game changer. Running is more than a bit
of a head game. Anyone who tells you
differently has never run outside their comfort zone. It is good for my head.
When I feel like I can run no more, I gather strength from
almost everything around me. I store power
from those who doubt the sanity of the long run, the stranger who gives me a
thumbs-up, and the couple who, although they have seen me many times throughout
the years, still will not wave back or say hello. I collect energy from the man who smokes on
the trail and the older gals who ask me to slow down so they can run
with me. I really get a charge when
people tell me it is unhealthy – it makes me want to run even farther.
After a really long run I occasionally need to curl up in
the fetal position and lie on the floor. My legs ache, my blisters throb, and my stomach churns. Every part of my body is alive. I make childish jokes about how dumb I have
been to think I could run so far and not feel pain. My wife offers no sympathy. My kids bring me water, poke fun at me, and fill
me with love to get me back on my feet again. Each of them truly knows me. They approve of my mistress.
They know I need to run – it is what I am.
I am a runner.
