.4

Shan, Mark and I had a really good run this morning at LBL.  We changed up the routine and started at the 1st street parking, ran to Lamar and then looped around the dam at Pleasant Valley and back for 7.4 mile total.  I thought it was an even 7 so I was pretty disappointed when I looked at my watch and it said 1:18.  That's when Shan told me about the .4!!  It was still a bit slow but I'll take it.

What it means to be a runner

This was the Tue 4/16 post on No Meat Athlete

What It Means to Be a Runner

 

Plenty of people who run, marathoners even, will tell you they’re not really runners.

There’s no shortage of posts from running bloggers claiming they don’t deserve the title, despite logging 30 or 50 or more miles every week. (Here’s mine, from over three years ago.)

For me, it took six marathons and a Boston qualification before I began to think of myself as a runner. But now that I’m comfortable with the name, I understand that being a runner has absolutely nothing to do with achievement.

Rather, it’s a mindset, a sense of connection with other runners … something that you just feel.

You feel it when you pass the same runner, day in and day out on your little neighborhood loop, and exchange that almost imperceptible nod that says, I understand.

You feel it when you’re in the car and you drive by a runner laboring to get her day’s miles in, and you wish that your little tap on the horn and thumbs-up could somehow express to her, I know exactly what you’re feeling, I’ve been there; come on, you can get through it.

And you felt it yesterday — Patriots’ Day, Marathon Monday, our sport’s proudest day – when you heard that something had gone horribly wrong at the Boston Marathon.

I think you become a runner when you recognize, in your own running, the essential kernel that motivates you and every other runner to get out there and log in the miles at the expense of so much else. Some runners do it for the medals and the t-shirts. Some run just to stay in shape. And others do it because, as they say, running is cheaper than therapy. But I think that at the most basic level, every one of us who runs does so because, deep down, we crave that little daily battle — against busyness, distraction, adversity, self-doubt — that every time we lace up our shoes, push ourselves out the door, and run, we win.

And when you reach the point when you look at another runner and sense that he understands the ins and outs of the very same struggle you do — and that, whatever his method, he manages to win it, over and over, just like you — you feel the connection.

To me, that’s what it means to be a runner.

When I got the text message yesterday saying there had been explosions at the Boston Marathon finish line, it was just about time for my scheduled five-miler. But as I watched the news with my wife (also a runner) and it steadily became apparent that this tragedy was no accident, I lost any motivation I had to run.

Something about running felt selfish … or maybe I just understood that, no matter how well I ran, there would be no win today.

For most of the afternoon, I just wanted to forget. To forget that no big city marathon, especially not our beloved Boston Marathon, would ever be the same. To forget that the very phrase “Boston Marathon,” with all the majesty and history and charm that are inextricably wrapped up within it, would be for many years supplanted by “Boston Marathon bombing,” words that would recall the images of the bloody sidewalk and the videos of flashing light, smoke, and panic.

And for a few minutes, I wanted to forget that I was a runner at all. As if distancing myself from it all would help to numb the pain.

But as the evening wore on and tragic details continued to trickle in, I felt something I’ve never felt before in my years as a runner: I sensed that I had to run … not for myself, but for someone — or something — else.

To say that I ran to honor the victims would feel a bit phony — when I headed out to run, there wasn’t any information about who they were or how old they were. All we could really guess was that each of yesterday’s victims was either a runner, or someone who loved a runner. And while it didn’t feel like it was my place to say that I was running for people I didn’t know, as I ran during the last hour of daylight last night, I got the distinct sense that I was running for something I did know — deeply, and personally.

I was running, really, for running.

I longed to see just one other runner, someone with whom to share that familiar, subtle nod that would say I understand, but mean so much more this time.

In the whole hour, I didn’t see a single other runner. But I knew they were out there, and that any who were would be thinking and feeling the same things I was.

And that, of course, is again what it means to be a runner.

I get the sense that, with time, we’ll come to view yesterday’s bombing as an attack on our country. But in the moment, it felt like it was an attack on the much smaller community surrounding our sport. After I got home and my wife and I hugged our son extra tightly before putting him down to bed, I signed onto Twitter, to connect with the community of runners I am lucky to have there.

I was unprepared for what awaited. There were hundreds of uplifting messages — quotes like Katherine Switzer’s, “If you are losing faith in humanity, go out and watch a marathon.” Posts from runners who said that earlier in the day they had questioned their goal to one day run a marathon, but now felt more strongly than ever that they had to make it happen. News that everyone would be wearing a running shirt today, Boston gear if they had it, in a show of unity. And of course, the outpouring of support for the victims and their loved ones, the city of Boston, and the runners, many of whom were still in their running clothes and without a place to stay, their flights cancelled and their bags lost in the commotion. Without a place to say, that is, until others stepped up and offered to help.

And when I went to bed, after a day that lasted far too long, I felt something I didn’t expect to feel.

Comfort. I was proud — and above all, grateful — to call myself a runner.

To the victims of the Boston Marathon tragedy and the people who love them, we at No Meat Athlete extend our sincere condolences. The running community is our family, and a tragedy like this one makes our hearts hurt.

'hood

Ran 6 miles in the 'hood Saturday morning before we headed to Bulverde for birthday parties and major liver soakage.

smell the roses

I got in a super easy 7 miles this morning.  The original plan was to start at 530 and do the 10 mile loop but I  had a crap nights sleep and just didn't have any zip.  I did have a good mileage week last week and may be recovering from that.  Historically 34 miles in a week isn't a big deal for me (in '00 I averaged 33 miles a week for the year) but it was my highest mileage week in 6 months.  So, I had a nice easy slow down, do some thinking, smell the roses kind of morning.

jets

This past weekend was my best running weekend in a while.  7 miles at Lady Bird Saturday morning and 10 miles yesterday that included my very first Cap 10k.  That was also my first road 10k since the Runtex series during the fall of '98 when I was getting ready for my first marathon.

I almost didn't run yesterday though.  My boss paid for and planned to run the 10k but something came up and he wasn't going to be able to do it so he asked if I'd like to do it.  I though about it for a few minutes and thought that it might be fun and I could be a freak and add some mileage onto it by running from our office.  I  knew I could avoid a bunch of parking issues by running from the office.

However, Saturday evening we joined some friends at the Iron Cactus for a birthday dinner and along with a few beers didn't get home till pretty late.  As we were going to bed I was rationalizing and justifying not running the next morning.  We are way behind on interior paint, mostly due to not being happy with paint samples, so I was using that as justification for not running.  I wouldn't feel much like doing anything until at least noon or 1 after resting a while.  So, I went to bed planning on not running.  I woke up at 615 after some pretty solid sleep and realized if I got up right now I could still make the run.  So I quickly got busy gathering everything and made it down to the sea of people in plenty of time.

I was lined up about midway in the throng of 17,500 runners.  It took me 7:15 to reach the start after the gun sounded.  I started off easy not really caring about my time but after I got warmed up breaking the 60 minute mark did enter my mind a bit.  In the 2nd mile I walked a bit up Enfield and then the Aggie Corps running in formation caught me.  As it turned out I stayed close to them for most of the rest of the race.  With less than half a mile to go the Aggies past me again.  I decided I couldn't let the Aggies finish ahead of me so I turned on the jets and finished ahead of them!!

diligent

7 miles at LBL with Diana this morning in 1:13.  I think it's only been she and I once before on the Thursday morning run.  She's super easy to be around and we had a some great conversation.

I'm off to a positive start with my running so far this month.  We've got 2 weekends out of town this month so I'll have to be diligent with my weekday miles.

positive

Started the month of April off in a positive way with a 10 mile run this morning with Shan.  We had a good run with several walk breaks finishing with a cool down walk in 1:50.