on the iPod: "chicken friend" -- zac brown band
There are myriad ways to measure success. The classic American definition includes a white picket fence and raising a few kids. My students would say that it equals the first letter of the alphabet. Used car salesman will point to getting rid of the lemon on the lot. Razorback fans might equate it with a blow-out tailgate party followed by an even bigger blow-out win. And runners that are training for a marathon have multiple ways to measure success as well. Obviously, crossing the finish line is the ultimate yardstick for success, but there are other indicators along the way: officially registering for the race, the first long run, getting through the first two months of training, and maybe even looking in the mirror and noticing a few pounds gone from the midsection. But one of my favorite measures of success is waking up in the morning after a particularly brutal long run and being completely sore, head to toe, for the first time. As I inch closer and closer to running the New York City Marathon, I can officially mark that one off my list. Dang it hurts, but it feels so good.
Mrs. Murie and I knew that we were in for a pretty epic training run yesterday morning, as Northwest Arkansas has stubbornly held on to morning temps in the 70's and humidity levels even higher than that. But this isn't the first rodeo for either of us, as we've trained together for three fall marathons now, and we both know what to expect: getting up extremely early, starting to sweat extremely fast, and slogging it out for 3+ hours until we cover the distance. And as miserable as it sounds, I don't think either of us would have it any other way. As I've said many times before, the Saturday morning long run is, unequivocally, my favorite part of the week. It seems as though our friendship has been cemented in this singular event over the past four years, and I can't imagine my life without it now.
It was with compassion in my heart, but mostly guilt, that I got up even earlier to drop frozen water bottles on the trail in an effort to stay hydrated, which is critical in the August heat. Guilt, I say, because i'm usually the slacker that depends on Mrs. Murie to figure out the logistics of how to get the needed mileage. I'll admit it: I don't even know how far we're supposed to go until Friday afternoon when she lets me know via text message. As hard as I try, I just can't get it together enough to think of running as anything other than a fluid, organic experience that makes me feel alive. I'll leave the logistics of it all to somebody else. So I was proud of myself when I volunteered to map the course and drop water, choosing a tree somewhere around mile seven, that would easily house our accoutrements. I was so proud, in fact, that I took a quick picture in the artsy darkness of early morning. I've entitled it Water In Tree and will soon be selling signed copies, as the original has already been acquired by Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. Notice the contrasting colors and brooding overtones. So mysteriously understated. Don and Cynthia Puckett are incredibly proud.
As the morning progressed and the sun rose quietly over corn fields at the University's farm, we kept a fairly steady pace toward the Washington County Fair Grounds, where the annual carnival and livestock show was temporarily in place for the weekend. Of course at 7:30 in the morning there's not much going on, as the animals were preoccupied with swatting flies and the carnies were nowhere to be found, probably all sleeping it off. We saw Marta Kiser out logging miles of her own and made a few wisecracks about stopping for funnel cakes and a ride on the tilt-a-whirl. Her pace is impressive and only matches a great personality.
We made it back to the Skull Creek trail unscathed, heading south toward campus and Razorback Stadium, arriving just in time to see the most die-hard fans setting up their elaborate, if temporary, parking lot living rooms and preparing to cheer on their beloved Arkansas Razorbacks. I have so many memories of tailgating over the years, most recently with my amazing friends the Hottingers, Uncle Lewis, Randy and Melissa, and am excited that football season is back. I'll definitely make a game or two this year, but couldn't imagine bearing yesterday's heat inside the stadium. Beaver Lake sounded like a much more pleasant option to spend the day, and I can report that all good time was had by all.
My friend Heather, who will also be running New York City, and I talked shop while floating in the cool water of the lake. I think I can speak for her as well when I say that there's nothing better for legs that have just run 18 miles than aimless floating and good conversation.
The only thing that might be better is chocolate milk. Ask any distance running expert and they'll all agree that chocolate milk has the perfect combination for recovery after a long run. Mrs. Murie and I both took said advice as we decompressed on the patio at Starbucks, exhausted but happy, already talking about next week's long run and two races right around the corner: the Winslow Half Marathon and the Tour De Fleur 20K in Dallas. I can't say it enough: there's nothing in the world that makes me happier than an early morning long run that tests my drive and determination, my will and perseverance. For whatever reason, it's what I'm supposed to do.
Lastly, I'm excited, proud, and a little bit nervous to announce that for the next four months i'll be writing a feature column about distance running in Celebrate Arkansas magazine. This is something that's been in the works all summer and is finally coming to fruition, as my first article is available now. The editors at Celebrate have been great collaborators and I hope many people pick up a copy and give it a read. It would mean a lot to me.
Wholeheartedly, I can say that it's very humbling to know that anybody would want to read my thoughts, and i'm so grateful that there are people who do each week. Particularly, there are two people, Sharon Lilly and Tambie Kilp, who fairly early on found my blog and suggested that I should try to do something more with it. I'm the luckiest guy on the planet to have the friends and family that I do, and dearly love each and every one of them. My friends and family are with me every single time that I lace up, in every run that I take, whether it's an afternoon on the Mud Creek Trail or a downtown race course in a city far way. They are with me.
Run.
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