Runner's Will, Runners Will

I’m going to try my best to shy away from the clichéd, “YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO!” posts that we see all over the runner's portion of the blogosphere.  While I do enjoy them and find them necessary in our times of weakness and doubt, I sometimes find them repetitive.  I may fail, but I will make a valiant effort anyway. 

Some days I hate running.

Saturday was one of those days.

Five miles was all I had to get through that day.  Just an easy 33 minutes or so (that’s runner’s precision for you).  The day before I ran 12 miles and the next day called for a 16-mile long run, so it was my short day for the week.  Yet, those 5 miles saw proverbial cinderblocks tied to my back and calves; I couldn’t get into a rhythm.  My breathing wasn’t even normal and I have never had a problem with my breathing.  Sunshine and its usual summer accomplice, humidity, infiltrated my skin and left me shower-drenched.  My right shin engendered just enough foreign feeling to it to leave me frightened it was the onset of shin splints. Or even worse, its merciless twin brother, the stress fracture.  I even stopped, turned around to head back home and then turned around again to finish the run.  To put it kindly, I was miserable.  There were countless activities I would have much preferred that Saturday than running, and yes, getting my teeth cleaned were one of them. 

Even mentally I was gassed from the five miles.  It was totally unlike me.  Even worse was the thought of running 16 miles the next day.  I labored over skipping it, thinking I needed to rest my shin and my mind from the physically and mental demand of running 75 miles a week.  I chalked it up as a bad day, as all runners have them reluctantly, and decided to see what Sunday brought to the table.

Sunday, well, was no Saturday.

Usually Saturdays are better than Sundays.  You can sleep in on Sunday.  It’s the official weekend day where you don’t have to work the next day.  You can catch up on errands, sleep, your favorite TV shows, and just relax.

But this Sunday left me fresh and ready to go.  The short day rested my legs big time.  The shin felt fine.  The weather was significantly cooler and there was cloud cover, which led to perfect summertime conditions for a 16-mile long run.  And, to boot, I finished the meandering hilly 16 miles in 1:43, a respectable 6:27 pace per mile.   Even better was that I preferred the run over the teeth cleaning this time.

So what happened?

Well, I have a theory.

This has been preached countless times, but runners are truly a unique breed of human being.  Their dedication to their sport and overall health is unequivocal.  When the loud majority roars about the banality of running, the damage it does to your knees and the waste of time such a hobby can be, the runner politely nods his head, and goes out for 8 more miles.  They don’t typically miss days for 100-degree weather, or 10-degree weather, or pouring rain, or sleet.  Hence, the origin of the title for this post.

The runner’s will is an intangible trait that I argue is only attained by runners themselves.  It’s a screaming voice in their brain, stomach, soul or wherever inside of them that beckons an unrequited commitment to getting out on the trail, roads and track.  Even at the lowest of points (in my case, Saturday) they do not falter.  Instead, they come back stronger, ready to efface their doubts from the previous day.  There’s no lack of fight in the runner’s will.

Runners will persevere, and they’ll have it no other way.  Be it by accomplishing a lifetime goal, beating cancer, losing weight or rebounding from bad days, runners will not ever, EVER take no for an answer or give up.  Even if they’re old and slow, they’ll still be out there, enjoying the time out for a jog.

I have that runner’s will.  I started out from nothing as a runner. As a shy, unconfident, kid who always had to buy the husky jeans as a young child, then ballooning to a 5’5”, 170-pound freshman in high school, I transformed myself into a 5-time marathon runner and member of a venerable Division I cross-country program.  Sure, I’m at the bottom of the depth chart and I’m a walk-on, but I still earned that spot on the team.   I write it to accentuate how the runner’s will can captivate and transform and do wondrous things, even making miracles.   If it can transform me, it can do the same to anyone.

Being that I am a runner, I will persevere.  I’ve had plenty of bad days this summer.  I’m not a heat guy.  Heat is my Kryptonite when I run.  I’ll take extreme cold over extreme heat for a run almost any day.  Yet, even with all those bad days I’ve had this summer, and ones previous, I have bounced back and returned, usually stronger.  Knowing the goals I’ve set out for myself this fall and spring, it’s not going to be easy.   No, not easy at all.  In fact, it’s going to require a full-time, 100% commitment to those goals if I even have a chance of achieve them.  Running a 27:30 8K and 2:40 marathon?  Without an unshakable work ethic and dedication, there’s no chance of me getting anywhere close. 

Thankfully, I learned something about myself this Saturday that should help.

Runner’s Will, Runners Will. 

Pensive about preseason

There are few things that are simultaneously invigorating and horrifying. Preseason is one of them. 

On the 21^st of this month, I’ll be driving back down to the pristine and unmatched campus of Marist College and checking into Champagnat Hall with the rest of my teammates.  It’s something I’ve looked forward to ever since I left school in the middle of May.

August 22^nd is the start of preseason for the Marist College men’s cross country team, of which I’m a proud member.  Every year going into preseason has been a wildly different experience for me.  Sophomore year saw me delve into the world of competitive running for the first time.  To say that preseason then was overwhelming is a severely drastic understatement that doesn’t begin to do my fear justice.  I survived, but barely; here was a kid (yours truly) who was overweight for 17 of 19 years of his life at that point running daily with high school state champions, Junior Nationals participants and even a national high school champion.  Let’s just say that first month was not the smoothest of transitions.

Junior year saw me out of shape compared to everyone again. I had a rough summer of training for personal reasons and only had one 60-mile week in me before I started.  Through a miracle, I survived and performed well in preseason and throughout the entire cross-country season, adding a fancy 2-minute PR to my 8K time, which now stands at 28:29.

My plan this summer was to put in the heavy mileage early and be strong and ready to roll once late August came around.  Strides were finally going to be a daily thing (as were drills), my long runs would be shorter but faster (in relation to my marathon training, of which I am most accustomed to), my workouts would be more intensive, and I’d be an unstoppable machine.  And why wouldn’t I?  After three-and-a-half months of marathon training, then getting an extra month to build up for summer compared to last year, there was no reason why I shouldn’t just be rolling through right now.

Well, it’s now August 3rd.  My mileage has been significantly higher in relation to other summers.  I’m already at 70 miles per week and didn’t hit that number until late September last year.  I’m doing strides and drills when I can.  My workouts are incomparable to those last summer. All should be great.  If anything, I should be in the best shape of my life, or close to it.

Except that I’m still petrified of preseason.

Three years in a row, around this time, I begin to grow more and more anxious.  I know I just wrote about how training by myself will eventually pay off for me this cross-countryseason, but that same fear of being good enough, doing enough, working hard enough is inescapable with preseason coming so soon. 

The bitter, biting, inconvenient, name-your-cliché-here truth is this: I’m not a good cross country runner.  In fact, I’m actually a pretty bad cross country runner, especially if you compare my times to those of myteammates. 

Running with my teammates is a privilege because of their supreme talent.  I’m thankful for the camaraderie, support and opportunity they give me to become better every day.  Yet, being around such talented runners, and being a part of a Division I program and ascertaining the demands it brings, engenders its personal doubts.  It’s no different than training for a marathon, half-marathon or any race you’re training for.  The same mitigating questions linger in our brains and fester and pick at us menacingly as we get closer and closer to what we're training for.  Is it overwhelming? You bet.

For preseason, I question whether I’m ready.  Whether or not I’ve finally put in the requisite work to be a solid cross country runner and no longer be at the bottom of the pack during workouts and races remains a mystery. 

I guess I’ll find out during preseason, impatiently waiting until then.