Cursor Invictus

Random Acts of Kindness in Competition

2011-01-01T18:38:00.002-07:00

I have received many random acts of kindness in my life, but none have been more significant than when running. Distance running is a brutal sport that pushes the athlete to his very limits. Whenever I race a distance of twenty-six miles, I exhaust every ounce of energy I have. Yet, athletes face more challenges than just the extremes of a given race. To train at the level necessary to excel in this sport injures many athletes. Running mile after mile, day after day, punishes the legs and body with multiplied effects.

For years, I had attempted to train so that I could complete a marathon, but I always ended up injured. Attempt after attempt, strained hip, knee pain, tendonitis, or simple over-training would sideline me. At last, frustrated and despairing, I joined a running club and met Austin. Austin was a veteran runner who had completed numerous marathons. When I started through the club training program, just as in my attempts before, I injured myself again. This time it was a case of tendonitis in my lower legs. During one of our club training runs, Austin noticed that I was favoring the injured leg. Pulling me aside, he asked me what was wrong. After I described the injury for him, he smiled.

“A simple fix.” His easy instructions worked like a magic wand and I completed my first marathon a few weeks later.

Over a year later, I received yet another random act of kindness while competing in my third marathon. Even though I had undergone surgery just six months earlier, I wanted to run fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. The oldest and most prestigious of distance races in the world, the Boston Marathon only allows runners who have run qualifying times to participate. For me, the time to beat was 3:15. Seventeen miles into the race I felt great and thought I could easily reach my goal time. Then it happened as in nearly every marathon. I felt fatigue and doubt assail me like a wall of bricks blocking my path. My legs all of a sudden felt like lead. I couldn’t imagine running further. I turned a corner and was then running up a slight hill and into the wind. Eight more miles to go! My mind and body screamed, “No more!” I wanted to rest; lie down on the street and sleep. Then another runner came along beside me. He wasn’t alone. Though I was somewhat delirious with fatigue I could see that this group of three or four runners were in a makeshift “V” formation, breaking through the wind.

“Tuck in behind me,” he said.

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Tuck in. We will take you in,” he instructed again. I moved over within this group and the struggle disappeared. The wind no longer bothered me in the pocket they created and the fatigue and doubt went away as quickly as it had come. I now knew I just needed to stay with them. They carried me in this fashion until mile twenty-four when I could no longer stay with them. Their gift had been sufficient though. I ended up finishing with a time of 3:00:14; I had smashed the qualifying time standard by almost fifteen minutes. I never saw those guys again but I will never forget their kind act.

Far from unusual, random acts of kindness such as these take place all the time in the sport of long distance running. The most commonly heard phrases in a road race are “Good job!” or “You are doing great!”

In fact, when struggling the last couple of miles in my most recent marathon, a fellow runner next to me said, “I will struggle with you! We can do this!” These random acts of kindness from other runners make each finish and each victory possible.

The Dark, Cold Run

2009-12-07T19:32:00.002-07:00

Running in the sun, with your friends by your side, a slight breeze at your back, beauty all around you, and a feeling of being unstoppable are all moments sweet and pleasurable. Every runner who has ever laced up a pair of running shoes has experienced such breathtaking occasions. Yet, there are other periods in a runner's training.

This time of year in the Intermountain West a runner's more common experience is running alone in the cold and dark. Shorter daylight hours, long work days, and subzero temperatures limit options to run in more hospitable conditions. If the unconquerable runner wants to achieve his goals, he must go out alone into the cold and dark, make friends with his solitude, and embrace the quiet sound of his labored breath.

Like a winter season in the runner's training regimen, we live through times of isolation, with limited options. Like the unconquerable runner, we too must push through the dark and cold if we are to realize the beauty and fullness of being that can only come through consistent and steady effort. Ultimately, the key may be in embracing struggle as it comes and welcoming the embryo of strength such exertions create. After all, it is in the dark, cold run that we discover ourselves and make running in the sun even more brilliant.

Limits

2009-11-22T18:17:00.004-07:00

Most runners in general and the unconquerable runner in particular face the limits of possibility in a very real and embodied way from time to time. Each race run takes everything. It is at the extreme of what the human body can accomplish over a given distance where we discover the best of ourselves. This revelation has proved to be the most rewarding and pleasurable part running. So much so, that even when I have races planned where I do not have any particular stake in my performance, I will still put everything out on the course.

Coming this week is a Thanksgiving Turkey Trot in Hailey, Idaho. I will be running this race. I was thinking during my run this morning how it would be nice to just run the 5k with a relaxed training pace. I chuckled a little at the thought. I knew then as I know now that I will run that race as hard and as fast as my body and mind are capable of. Of course, I am not training or making any special preparations. I am, as they say, running right through the race (meaning I am not altering my training plan...I have an 11 mile run the day before the scheduled race). Still, the pain and fear that comes from being at the edge of existence will be there.

It goes without saying, but the act of confronting our limitations and potential does not take place exclusively in running or racing. A good friend of mine has recently had to undergo surgery and have a pace maker placed in his chest. While this is a source of significant discomfort, as soon as he was able (and got his doctor's approval) he started to run again. Just running a couple of miles at a given time brings him right up to his limits. It is inspiring to see his courage and diligence manifest in such efforts.

Bottom line is that if we never reach our limits we never really live and never truly know the extent of who we are and what we are capable of in the face of such challenges. So it goes for the unconquerable runner to periodically push right up against these limits, to bleed a little.

New Beginnings

2009-10-18T15:02:00.003-06:00

I recently completed the St. George marathon and ran a new personal record. It was a very satisfying and enjoyable experience. A couple of weeks have passed and now I am contemplating my next training plan.

The most effective training approaches in running involve periodization. The beautiful part of breaking your training into periods is that your training focus changes like the seasons. Like the change from Summer to Fall, a liminal space is created that offers a moment to reflect on where you have been and where you would like to be.

I am very satisfied with how St. George went but part of me is not satisfied. I believe that there is more. I will run the Boston marathon next April and want to set a personal record there as well. Boston is a more difficult course with well known challenges. I believe that such an accomplishment is possible and within my ability to reach but only after the trial of miles and miles of trials.

The training that will get me to that level of fitness will involve running distances right up to the ceiling of what my schedule and commitments will allow. Part of me is very excited to take on the challenge; another part feels anxious and a little scared.

I have to simply remind myself that the ideal of the unconquerable runner is made real in the effort and struggle, in stepping up to the line each day. There are no compromises in the pursuit of excellence.

The Place For Community

2008-02-19T20:44:00.005-07:00

Running of the type the unconquerable runner engages in does not take place in a vacuum but within an identifiable community. From a first glance, running may appear to be one of the most individualistic participatory sports out there. But if we reflect for a moment we soon realize that no race takes place without a community of other runners with whom we can test and measure our performance. Furthermore, beyond this minimalist appraisal there are actually a number of ways in which a running community can and does make the unconquerable runner an ideal more attainable.

One of the more subtle ways a running community sustains a runner is in motivation. Of course if one asks any runner why he runs there are a number of answers he may give but the drive of an upcoming race or commitment to a daily running partner cannot be ignored. My involvement with running clubs in the past has gotten me out of bed at five on Saturday mornings largely because I committed to be there with my friends and running peers. The expectations of members in a shared community can be powerful motivation as well as a source of great support during difficult times in one's life as a runner.

A running community also provides some of the most meaningful celebratory congratulations a runner can receive because other runners know the challenges and difficulties before the accomplishment. Whether a 5k or a marathon, every runner knows that just competing and finishing takes hours of training and sweat. This shared recognition seems to be the fact behind the most common words between runners on a race course: "good job"! I recently reached a long sought after goal of running a marathon under three hours. My running friends emailed me or called to express their heartfelt congratulations on the milestone accomplishment. When I shared the news with a brother (a non-runner) he simply asked, "Is that fast?"

Another of the many benefits of involvement in a running club has been the pooling of training and injury experience. When our running club gets together each week, we have the opportunity to talk and discuss our successes and challenges. Unfortunately, overuse injuries in their many varieties often come up. Fortunately, our group is large enough and diverse enough that someone either has had firsthand experience with the problem or knows of some simple strategies that can help alleviate or eliminate the issue.

Lastly, being a runner is an identity and often when one is with other runners there is an immediate sense of solidarity and belonging. I have never felt more at home and with my own people than standing in a crowd of runners at the start of race. We have all put in miles on pavement through all sorts of weather conditions. We are runners! More than that, we are runners striving to realize the ideal of being unconquerable runners. Continually striving for excellence and our very best, we come closer to being unconquerable because we are all members of a shared community.

Of Human Bondage: The Burden of Contingency

2008-01-14T19:42:00.000-07:00

A simple truth of being human is that we all share a condition of bondage. This bondage is not to some evil empire or totalitarian dictator but the circumstance of our existence: contingency. We depend on the particular alignment of numerous accidents in order to sustain our lives and civilization. Our daily sustenance requires external resources such as food and water--not to mention air-- just to stay alive. Even our mental well being necessitates positive interaction with other human beings.

Given the insurmountable nature of this state of being, the challenge lies in our engagement with these contingencies. We have a choice: either we can consciously struggle against these limitations or passively play the role of a victim. The victim feels the buffets of these barriers without expectation or understanding. The unconquerable runner on the other hand knows, explores, and engages every boundary in order to understand and intelligibly interact with such barriers. It is by coming up against such limits that he overcomes and pushes them back. Faster times over greater distances are achieved through attending to physical conditioning, diet, and mental stamina.

The key to successfully accomplishing such feats lies in careful cultivation and patient persistence. A good diet only has positive effects on a marathoner's performance after weeks and even months of eating appropriate combinations of proteins and carbohydrates. Endurance follows weeks and weeks of consistent running. Avoidance of injury relies heavily on routine stretching and strength condition. Time spent running on the road and track provides a runner with the mental stamina and confidence necessary to face the race. Improvement is seen only after a runner puts in much time and careful attention to such details over extended periods of time.

Here, once again, the utility of running as a life metaphor comes clear in how the unconquerable runner engages the limitations. Dependence on daily nutrition becomes an asset by selecting the types of foods that maximize running performance. By completing daily distance runs the runner activates the body's ability to increase its capacity to metabolize oxygen and glycogen efficiently. In this way, barriers come to provide a means for overcoming and pushing beyond them. In an ironic turn, we as humans possess the surprising quality of surpassing our contingencies by wisely and carefully engaging them. Running from them, seeking to find escape from these restraints actually leads to debilitation and weakness.

Thus the unconquerable runner embraces and engages his limits and, by so doing, rises above the status of victimhood.

Post Race: A Time for Reflection and Second Guessing

2007-12-05T20:09:00.000-07:00

A week has now passed since the Las Vegas marathon. I have spent this week recovering and reflecting on the race and my experience there. This was the first marathon in which I accomplished all three of the goals I set before me: I finished, qualified for the Boston Marathon, and ran it in 2:59:09. I knew in the first two miles that I would be able to finish under three hours. I felt so good and strong for the first 24 miles. It was exhilarating! The last two miles were a different story. I suffered a painful exhaustion that hurt throughout my entire body. Fortunately, I did not slow down more than a minute per mile during that phase.

Post race reflection is a critical part of a runner's life and necessary if he hopes to improve upon his performance in later races. As a marathon is an exceptional event that punctuates the staid quality of day to day living, it illuminates and reveals much. The revelatory material, however, cannot be obtained except through conscious reflection and musing.

As with any great accomplishment, I have felt many congratulations from friends and even myself. This fruit should be savored and enjoyed for all that it is but I find it can be a dangerous trap too. Indulgence in too many feelings of a self-congratulatory nature leaves out the less pleasant but necessary questions of a more critical kind. Did I put everything out on the course? When I hit the wall, did I give in to the desire to slow, stop, or do anything less than my all? What aspects of my performance could be improved by modifying my training? How will my experience in this last race inform my preparations for the next one?

I think that post race feelings have some similarities to survivor's guilt. Just as the survivor questions whether he truly did everything he could have done to save those who did not make it out of whatever disaster they shared, I find that I must find specific bits of the evidence that I did indeed do my best. In this race I simply have to remember the last quarter of a mile when I was starting to make audible sounds as I rasped for air. All I wanted to do was stop. My body ached all over. Instead I picked up speed and actually regained my earlier pace. This incredible exertion took its toll as I was as emotionally taxed as I was physically. In an uncontrollable moment, my emotions took over and I began to sob between breaths. The tears coursed down my cheeks as I found the finish line in sight. I finished having given my all.

With respect to my training, I know that I need to increase my overall mileage from week to week. My speed was fine but my endurance needs some work if I am to avoid such levels of exhaustion (though I have never successfully avoided such a feelings in a marathon). The Las Vegas marathon was also relatively flat, the Boston marathon is not. I must prepare for my next marathon by including hill work (repeated runs up steep hills). I have put together my new training plan and have included such hill climbs.

I am always impressed by the lack of energy I feel in this recovery period but such feelings give me the opportunity to slow down and assess where I have been and now where I am going. Such a valuable gift is made possible by the total exertion of the unconquerable runner.

Training and Preparation

2007-11-27T19:14:00.000-07:00

"I don't train. I just run my 3 to 15 miles a day."

-Jack Foster

Most accomplishments in life require training and preparation. Those feats that appear in headlines or history books come about as a result of much unseen effort. Like an iceberg, the more substantial part of the story often remains unseen. Running exemplifies this characteristic of life with unusual accuracy.

The longer the distance, the greater the need for conditioning. Even shorter runs bring with them an exponential increase in risk of injury if the runner's mind and body have not been prepared properly. A baseline of fitness must be built incrementally, one run at a time.

As I reflect on my upcoming marathon, I remind myself of each component of my training. I have built a baseline of endurance through gradually running greater distances from week to week. Saturday long runs were critical in cultivating the mental and physical stamina for a marathon. At their longest, twenty miles and further, my joints and muscle systems developed in ways that will withstand the prolonged use and abuse of the race.

My preparations have also included weekly quality workouts. The cardiovascular system requires more than simple endurance but also strength and efficiency. By running at a tempo pace for twenty minutes or more at a time, my muscles developed more effective ways to utilize glycogen and anaerobic sources of energy as well as raw strength. Through interval training (where I ran repeated short distances of 800 meters to a mile with brief recovery periods between bursts) I have augmented my cardiovascular system's capacity to get oxygen to exhausted muscle cells.

I have also been mindful that in the end it is in the recovery from these runs that true conditioning takes place. Only by eating a good diet and allowing plenty of time for the body to rebuild from the rigors of training have I been able to cultivate a level of fitness that will enable me to improve upon my last race performance.

In the final two to three weeks before the race, I have enjoyed the fruits of the training by tapering the number of miles I run. In the taper, I run less and take time to build up stores for the actual race. The challenge of the taper lies in an increased desire to run: I find myself craving the distance and the speed. As I get closer and closer to the starting line I begin to feel like a race horse at the gate, yearning to put it all on the track.

Because of these unseen and quiet preparations, come Sunday morning, I will be at the starting line on the Las Vegas Strip, up to the challenge of the race. In light of the many training runs, the race will be a reward, a gift to myself, and a celebration of the journey to compete. The culmination of numerous runs and countless hours, this contest will reveal a bit of the unconquerable runner within me.

Affirmation of Life

2007-11-24T20:31:00.000-07:00

The temptation to deny or runaway from pain, though a very natural and understandable impulse, can lead to an impoverished and empty life. Pain does more than simply warn us of damaged joints or torn muscles, it provides a necessary contrast for sensations of wholeness and wellbeing. I submit that life, in its totality, cannot be affirmed without embracing pain.

An affirmation of life makes fulfilled living possible in the here and now of our world. Its antithesis, life denial, requires a retreat from everyday living and a concomitant fixation on an otherworldly vision. Most importantly, when we affirm life, we accept the interrelated and dialectical character of being human in a limited existence. Once we embrace such an understanding, the good and the bad of life can be navigated more effectively and appreciated more fully.

The ancient Greeks seemed to grasp this concept as indicated in their dramatic works. Greek tragedy has been interpreted most famously as a means of channeling off negative feelings and resentments within the community and its members (a process known as catharsis). Another interpretation offered by Friedrich Nietzsche is that in such dramatic productions, the community affirmed life and celebrated the painful struggle against the limitations of human effort on the stage of religious festivals. The benefits of such engagement included a renewed respect for their community and the roles each of them played in the ongoing struggles of life.

While I enjoy a good Greek tragedy as well as the next person, I am currently reflecting on a more visceral, life-affirming encounter with pain. I will be running in the New Las Vegas Marathon this coming Sunday, December 2. This race in particular inspires a number of thoughts on the pain and challenges intrinsic to running a marathon as well as the opportunities to come away with a renewed appreciation and greater understanding for life in its totality.

It is not my first marathon, so I have a general idea of what the encounter will be like. Yet, I have not run this particular race and every course possesses its own characteristics and particular challenges. Furthermore, there are so many variables within such a long and protracted race I know that I will meet new challenges. But there is one feature I am confident will be consistent with other marathons I have run: the pain.

I run every marathon with a hope of out performing previous races. This may mean a personal record or only a personal best for the type of course (if it is particularly mountainous, for example). I usually set three goals in the face of each marathon. Accomplishment of any one of these goals means that I encountered and overcame discomfiting forms of pain. Failure means that I reached the limit of possibility and arrived at the breaking point in my pain threshold. Such meaning, of course, presumes that I will invest everything that I have to attaining these goals.

The three goals I have set for this marathon are: first, to complete the race; second, to qualify for the Boston Marathon again (3:15); third, to finish with a time under three hours. I feel pretty confident about the first two goals but am not sure about the third. The fastest time I have run is 3:00:14. This course appears to be more difficult but I have been training at a higher altitude so I could be in a better position than might be thought. Either way, the challenge is there.

Over the remaining days between now and the race, I will visualize my participation, the pain, and accomplishment. I focus on steeling myself for the encounter and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that awaits me in the upcoming days. My past experience and training inspire me with a curious confidence that I will prevail and realize further the unconquerable runner in me. I also know that I will return from Las Vegas revitalized and possessing an embodied affirmation of life in its totality.

Glenn Cunningham put it best: "In running it is man against himself, the cruelest of opponents. The other runners are not the real enemies. His adversary lies within him, in his ability with brain and heart to master himself and his emotions."

The Ideal of the Unconquerable Runner

2007-11-15T21:27:00.000-07:00

One of the most demeaning things one can experience is any event that renders him a victim. I have been bullied before and experienced the shame and degredation of not being able to do anything about it. The sickening sense of helplessness and the realization of the futility of trying to do anything only made my humiliation more acute.

I have also had moments of despair at feeling blocked from pursuing dreams or achieving particular goals. Life is full of complexities and hierarchies of needs that often relegate some of the most sought after features of life unattainable. Such "realities" have been especially frustrating, more so when life demands appear so uncompromising.

Victimized, undermined, and circumvented: all three words describe some form of conquest, or rather the condition of being conquered. In a very real sense the nature of living in a finite and limited world necessitates that we all will experience victimhood at some point. Our peers and fellow human beings share in this struggle and seek to maximize their own power and influence, to secure their own well-being and that of their friends and family, even at our expense.

Given this struggle in conditions made up of necessity and scarce resources, where does an ideal such as the unconquerable runner fit in? Runners race competitively against each other with clear winners and losers, victors and vanquished. Every runner, no matter how fast, at some point in some race will fall short of first place.

I find this ideal most fitting within the framework of my life struggle, not the specifics of any one race. As long as I continue to run, drive myself and strive to improve upon my earlier accomplishments. As long as I seek out excellence in the struggle for faster times and listen carefully to my body and its warning signals. As long as I honestly put my all into every race and hold back no reserves. As long as I embrace pain as the indelicate schoolmaster who must be accepted and yet never ignored. As long as I step up to the line with my peers, rubbing shoulders with others who invest hours on black asphalt, I will always stand unconquerable.

Running is one of the few dimensions of life where I can truly envision a state of invincibility. This unassailable condition does not describe the body or heart but an orientation towards life and the world. By striving to become the unconquerable runner, I accept the limitations of a finite existence wherein only so much oxygen can be carried by my lungs and heart. I accept that my legs can only turn over so fast. I accept that muscles will break down and that joints can and do fail. But, I refuse to stop pushing those boundaries. The unconquerable runner draws upon every resource available at his disposal to face those limitations with each race. Such invincibility laces up the shoes at ungodly hours in order to condition, train and cultivate the capacity to smash yet another barrier, to realize the ultimate victory of becoming more than he was the day before, to come one step closer to embodying the higher man.

The unconquerable runner never truly knows defeat because he never surrenders his cause and untiring efforts to overcome himself. As I struggle to realize this ideal I am surprised to find the vicissitudes of other aspects of life swallowed up and rendered powerless. I am no longer held hostage and overcome but stand unbowed. The unconquerable runner is now little more than an abstract ideal, but with each stride under the blistering sun he becomes as real as the sweat that trickles down my temples.

Running as a Metaphor

2007-11-09T21:02:00.000-07:00

Life presents many exhilarating highs and devastating lows. It is because of this feature of life that many of us strive to secure an existence void of these exhausting extremes. We seek out careers with medical benefits and secure retirement packages. Despite these careful precautions life has a way of undoing plans in surprising ways. Part of what can prove to be so devastating at these moments is the unanticipated nature of such interruptions.

Believing the self-help gurus and purchasing their many wares, we can come to accept a presentation of a world where a positive mental attitude and systematic planning can prepare for every eventuality. A little life experience and honest reflection belies the sales pitch of such noisy peddlers. Life presents a multitude of unforeseeable and uncontrollable hurdles.

But we need space and means to reflect honestly and accurately on the nature of being human, along with all of its challenges and opportunities. I suggest here that the act of running, particularly the marathon, provides a poignant metaphor and occasion to engage life in meaningful ways. Sometimes described as the distance to hell and back, the marathon (actually 26.2 miles) possesses particular qualities due to this substantial distance. The length of this race entails significant risks of injury, including dehydration, heat exhaustion, and even sudden heart failure. Yet, the sense of exhilaration and accomplishment at the end of such an endeavor is hard to describe. Most important of all, running pits us against the limits of our existence in very real, physical and mental ways that allow us to reflect on how we can and ought to engage the constraints that we all feel in various forms.

The best example of such an engagement that I have experienced took place in my first marathon. I had trained well and thought I might be able to run my first marathon with a time of 3:15. The race went very well until mile eighteen at which time a debilitating fatigue overtook me (sometimes referred to as the "wall"). I pushed through this combination of mental and physiological weariness until mile 20 when my legs simply refused to run at the pace I had been maintaining up to that point. I learned later that my muscles had reached their lactate threshold, which is the point at which the lactic acid is produced in the muscles faster than it can be removed. By mile 22 I could hardly move my legs beyond much more than a slow jog. I stopped and walked at times but found that starting to run again too painful, so I just kept on running (or rather hobbling). I eventually finished and felt the thrill of prevailing in spite of the failure of my leg muscles.

At the time, no amount of positive thinking or self talk could have taken away the lactic acid in my legs. All that was left for me was the grim and painful push through the obstacle. The magic bullet for this particular issue came about from research into specific training techniques that condition the body to produce less lactic acid during a race (for information on the biochemical physiology of the lactate threshold, here is a good webpage). Forms of speedwork (fast paced runs at tempo speeds or sprints at relatively short intervals) have proven very effective and I have never experienced such muscle failure in a marathon since.

Like my experience in that first marathon, we do and will continue to encounter impediments and challenges that are very real and cannot be wished away. They will be more or less debilitating but can all be embraced and engaged. At times, the best that we can hope to do is endure and continue. At other times, careful study and proactive responses can enable us to overcome the challenges. As subsequent posts and discussions on this blog will demonstrate, running as a metaphor and practice provides numerous opportunities for reflection and insight into living a meaningful and vibrant life.