on the iPod: "give me everything" -- pitbull
The New York City Marathon is less than a month away, but it still seems like an untouchable run that somehow i've found myself registered for. I'm not for sure when it's going to sink in that i'm actually running the largest marathon in the world, but for now the idea is still too large to think about without getting anxious. Even though I might have missed a few midweek runs to let my knees take a break, I think i'll be ready physically when the time comes to lace up and hit the streets of Manhattan. If not, i'll try my best to make it look like I am.
The mileage has been high lately and we've been putting in lots of time on the trails. There'll be no complaints from me, however, as I can't think of any other place that i'd prefer to spend my free time than running along Skull Creek or through Compton Gardens. Running is my cold beer with good friends, it's my sleeping in, my four-course meal, my last-minute road trip, my poker night all rolled into one. It's simply what i'm supposed to do.
So with the 25th anniversary of the Chile Pepper Cross Country Festival on the slate for the weekend, my good running friend Mrs. Murie and I had to get creative on how to run the 10K and get in the needed training mileage. We surmised the best option would be to get in 12 miles Friday afternoon, leaving six on the docket for Saturday morning. Afternoon long runs have always been difficult for me because of a low energy level after work, but i've tried to think of them as similar to the final miles in a race, so with that in mind they serve some utility and hopefully make me a stronger runner. This Friday's lived up to it's billing, as leaving out from Dickson Street and heading north I was already worn out by the time we hit North Street about a mile later. This was going to be a tough one.
Graciously, Mrs. Murie shared her Gu Chomps that were leftover from Dallas two weekends ago, and those gave me a substantial boost that I hadn't felt in quite some time. So much so, in fact, that i'm considering ditching my gel packs and going to chomps, which I used to use years ago. We both finished strong with plenty of time to stop by the Chile Pepper expo to pick up our bibs and get a final weather report that looked less than promising: a storm was scheduled to start moving through overnight but the timing wasn't exact, which meant we could be running in the rain or on muddy, wet grass, which is nobody's idea of a good time.
Waking up Saturday morning to dry pavement in my neighborhood seemed promising, but it only took one look toward the skies to see what we were up against. Thick, dark clouds and the occasional lightning burst in the distance meant it was only a matter of time before the rain began. We prepped for the worst and hoped for the best, waiting in the parking lot across the street and ready to run. Then those clouds got active. Really active. About 30 minutes before the gun was scheduled to fire, the rain pounded down. Taking shelter in the car, we laughed and talked about all the great runs we've had over the years as delay after delay was announced via social media. First it was 8:30, then 9:00, then 9:30, at which point we both decided to call it a day and run twice as fast next year, but not before we jumped out for a quick picture when the rain lightened up for a minute or two. And then it started dumping buckets. Word got out that the course was a dang mess and that the rain wasn't supposed to stop, but that they were going to run the race at 10:00 no matter what.
It couldn't have been more than an hour after getting home that I felt it, very slight and brief, but then I got distracted by a salty snack and it went away. I took a shower and changed into dry clothes, then while making a bowl of cereal I felt it again, this time a bit more pronounced and lingering a little bit longer. Sitting down on the couch to watch the SEC Game of the Week, I noticed my running shoes sitting neatly next to the coffee table. They looked so clean, as if to say "what the heck?" At that moment I knew what I was feeling -- the shame of having bailed on a race just because of rain. I was that guy. Yep, as soon as there were a few dumb little delays and the chance of having to run in the rain, I took my ball and went home. This was not good.
The rest of the day was great with cool temperatures and overcast skies finally welcoming fall to Northwest Arkansas, and we went to two parties where we got to see lots of great friends. Oftentimes, even though I don't bring it up, the conversation will eventually make it's way to running. I'm always reticent to talk about the sport that I love so much, because I never want people to get annoyed. But nonetheless, when people ask I'm always willing to talk. Yesterday, though, there was absolutely nothing that I wanted to talk about less than running, because the truth was that I didn't run, I pouted like a baby and went home because it rained. Dangit.
Waking up this morning was even worse. I put on my clothes for church, reminding myself that I had turned in to a fair weather runner. Real runners run in the rain, not-real runners go home and watch football and eat snacks. Even Big Gabe, who was wearing the Cone of Shame because he won't stop chewing on his butt, looked at me with disappointment and disgust while he laid on the rug.
And again, there were my running shoes, sitting quietly, almost reveling in their cleanness and taunting me with a flippant attitude. It was too much to bear, and I knew what had to be done. I had to go run the Chile Pepper. So I did, just one day late. I had to roll out and show myself that I could run the course no matter what shape it was in.
Even though the morning had been enveloped in abundant sunshine and crystal clear skies, the course still resembled a pig sty. There was mud everywhere, but I was hell-bent on going out and getting the miles done. I successfully dodged puddles for the first quarter-mile, but quickly realized that doing so was going to add substantial stress to running the course, so I gave in and started running a straight line no matter what. And then I got to mile two. It looked like a war zone. For at least 50 yards ahead of me, all I could see and smell was thick, stagnant, slippery, ripped up, funky terrain. I decided to go full throttle and give it my best, knowing that it would most likely mean trashing my shoes, but I didn't care. Wow! It turned out to be so much fun that I did a complete 180 and ran it back again. I was so happy that I stopped to take a picture.
In that moment, like so many times before, I fell in love with running all over again. There wasn't a single person around as I stood there in the middle of the Agri Park, surrounded by running trails that have so many stories to tell, so many triumphs to remember, so many races to run. I had shown up and ran my hardest. Redemption was mine.
On a final note, I'm so happy that my second writing piece for Celebrate Arkansas Magazine is now available. Pick up a copy and give it a read, it means more to me than anybody knows that my writing is valued. I've grown to love writing almost as much as I do running, and I couldn't be luckier to be doing both. So, thank you, in advance for stumbling across this blog or the article.
Next weekend is the last 20 miler in preparation for the New York City Marathon, and hopefully my running shoes will have dried out and forgiven me for the stunt I pulled. But it was what I needed to do, and I haven't stopped smiling while thinking about it. And my promise is this: I'll never bail on a race because of rain ever again. And if I break that promise, I'll know exactly what i've got to do to make everything better again.
Run.
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