on the iPod: "lights" -- ellie goulding
I was sitting in church this morning, spaced out during the sermon -- something that I don't normally do -- and thinking about running. Imagine that. My favorite part of the Episcopal service is the gospel reading, which takes place in the middle of the congregation as opposed to the pulpit. I love that the teachings of an amazingly compassionate man are recited with the congregation on all sides, and imagine that it was similarly done thousands of years ago. I enjoy the sermon as well, particularly because the Fathers at St. Paul's are wildly intelligent and tend to see Christianity from a non-literal perspective. That resonates with me. But for whatever reason today, I was checked out. That happens from time to time. Jesus probably checked out on conversations every once in a while, too. I'd like to think that he was a runner as well, so if that's the case I must be in good company.
I was thinking about how much running has become a part of my life. I've essentially been doing long runs every weekend since January of 2010, when I began training for my very first half-marathon with Mrs. Pugh and Mrs. Murie. In these almost-three short years, nothing has become more important to me. Interestingly, I didn't completely buy in to the whole idea until March of that same year when I crossed a finish line and wanted to go farther. Up until then, my cognition around distance running was something to check off, as something that I'd agreed to do. But that finish line changed everything and the stakes have only gotten higher with every registration, every training plan, every race. I've loved them all for different reasons and am so very much looking forward to running the largest marathon in the world in three short weeks. To say that I'm constantly thinking about it would be an understatement.
We were supposed to complete our final long run this weekend, a 20 miler, but i've never known Mrs. Murie and myself to stick exactly to what the training plan says. We're both too fluid to allow a piece of paper hanging on the refrigerator to dictate what happens. (Life is about the ice cream inside the fridge, isn't it??) So over happy hour beers we surveyed the weekend and decided to go short this weekend and hold off on the long run. We were also both registered to run a 10K at the Chile Pepper Cross Country Festival and didn't want to go further after that, so additional mileage would have to be beforehand. With that in mind, we decided to start at 5:45 midway on the Skull Creek trail to get in 10 miles before the race.
Of course we were both running late and that turned in to leaving out at 6:00 and only going 8 miles, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Saturday morning distance runs with Mrs. Murie have become the favorite part of my entire week, and I look forward to them starting on Wednesday night.
The training run was sluggish for me, probably because I didn't eat anything before leaving the house, so by the time the gun went off for the Chile Pepper, my energy level was low. It's a huge event in the Northwest Arkansas running community, founded 24 years ago by a local restauranteur with a passion for cross country running and fund raising. Proceeds always benefit local programs, including the Bentonville High School Tigers. The event is still going strong today, with an open 10K followed by elite-level collegiate and high school races. The list of winning teams over the years is a veritable who's who of running programs from all over the nation, with the University of Arkansas' storied program faring well annually. It truly is a festival atmosphere with the different school erecting mini-camps all over the grounds of the park, flying banners with their mascot, setting up stretching tables, and wearing crisp track pants and singlets emblazoned with team mascots.
The course is well-maintained and groomed, but difficult for me as a guy who prefers pavement over grass. I'm a great big oversized clumsy mess, so rolling greens and undulations scare the hell out of me. And that's exactly what the Chile Pepper course is -- wide open expanses of agriculture land that turns and changes frequently. It's as smooth as large farm acreage can be, which is not smooth at all. Add a few spots of full-blown muddy terrain courtesy of a solid rain the night before and I didn't turn in my best 10K time. In fact with the clock ticked exactly two seconds past one hour when I crossed the finish line, my time was really slow.
But all that was quickly forgotten after I found Mrs. Murie, who'd finished some five minutes ahead of me, and we made our way across the festival grounds to the hospitality tent for the absolutely best part of the Chile Pepper Cross Country Festival: tacos for breakfast. Yep!
So there we were, at 8:45 in the morning, after running 8 training miles and a 10K back-to-back, in line for what is, hands down, one of the best post-race parties at any race in the country. I don't know how long the Chile Pepper has thrown a taco party for the runners, but it's freakin' amazing. My feet were covered in gravel, mowed grass, and mud. My wicking tee had wicked at least a pint of sweat from my torso. My thighs were sore from the course. But nothing could have tasted better than spiced ground beef topped with shredded lettuce and cheese. It was a mouthful of heaven right there in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Mrs. Murie was responsible and only had one, but I showed true fat boy behavior and polished off three, reminding myself not to go back for another plate like i'd done the year before and then paid the price for it when I couldn't find a port-a-potty soon enough. It wasn't pretty. As we exited the tent to watch the start of the collegiate races, that taco buffet was calling my name like a culinary temptress. Mrs. Murie had to keep me moving forward. She's such a good friend like that.
The New York City Marathon is three weeks away. We're planning to do one more long run next weekend and then a short run the following Saturday. Everything is coming together for the greatest race i've ever run, and I feel like I'm watching it unfold from the eye of a spectator. I know that it will be me riding a ferry past the Statue of Liberty on the way to the start, it will be me running into Manhattan on the Queensboro Bridge, and it will be me crossing the finish line in Central Park, but i've yet to attach myself to the event. I can't do it right now. It's hard for me to think of myself as being destined to be a part of something so large and monumental, but I suppose I am. I suppose i'm finding my place in this world, and it's laced up running. And on November 4th, i'll find even a little bit more of where i'm supposed to be.
Run.
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