Running For Life

One complaint people have about running is that the act of running is boring.  It is so boring that some people refuse to run or shudder at the very thought of running without music or some other auditory distraction.

At some point I made a conscious decision to drop the ear buds and embrace the mental chatter.  Whether I am out for a brisk three miler or slogging through several hours on my feet, my greatest pleasure in running is wrestling with some issue and arriving at a resolution.  Not all runs are great and not all resolutions work; however, the push to be better physically and mentally is worth whatever hurdles are encountered along the way.

On numerous occasions I lack sufficient motivation to push myself and struggle to maintain consistent effort.  Then I happen upon a person that is battling with their own demons or physical illness.  It has been a while but dedication runs have been a great motivator for focused running.  They may be low key and easy; a way to meditate on healing or peace for the person in question.  Or, I may run like a bat out of hell, pouring all my energy into the run knowing that the subject of the dedication is not able to do so.

Since the end of October I have struggled to get back in a groove with regards to running.  Many days I feel listless or else I make easy excuses to head out later.  Unfortunately later is usually after a space of two or three days.

Rather than dedicating a single workout for some individual or cause, I have decided to dedicate an entire training cycle to a single cause.  On Saturday, May 5th I will participate in 2012 Relay For Life of Georgetown, SC.  My personal goal is to run as much as possible and walk as necessary so that I may remain in motion from Noon till Midnight.

Relay For Life is a cancer charity.  I will run for three grandparents taken by cancer, as well as various aunts and uncles who did not survive their diagnoses.  I will run for my father and two of my wife's uncles who have successfully overcome prostate cancer.  I will run for my father-in-law who is only weeks into post-operative recovery for prostate cancer.  I will also from for the OB-GYN that delivered my youngest daughter ten years ago this April.  She lost her fight with cancer.

This is a very personal issue for me.

Fundraising is a component of Relay For Life.  Asking for money is not a natural talent of mine.  Should you feel compelled to contribute I shall be eternally grateful.  I may even send along a little personal gift to express my gratitude.

To up the ante, I shall also pledge to donate one dollar from each #DoEpicShit bracelet I sell between now and May 6th.

What does twelve hours on an asphalt high school track mean with regards to distance?  I expect to complete at minimum two hundred laps, or 50 miles.  If everything comes together well I hope to reach close to 80 miles.

The last few months I have felt detached, disjointed.  On a recent run I found a renewed determination that translated into an excellent eight mile run.  I think that is part of what is fueling my runs.  The push for greater pace/effort is a renewed desire to dedicate to and run for people not able to run for themselves.  I do this because they cannot.  It is scary how hard I am able to push myself; and yet some of these efforts seems so easy in the moment.  A dedication run ceases to be a trainer or merely another daily task to check of the list.  The run assumes a life of its own.  Much like The Relay for life.

It is one of the many reasons I run.


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For those not gifted with an ability to read between the lines this is a call for money.  Click either link to donate directly to Relay For LIfe or to purchase a wristband.  Do it.

Something Is Afoot

Since I returned from Texas I have not trained with any purpose.  I have yet to register for any races.  Blame it on a lack of disposable income.  Blame it on being to weak-willed to trick myself into training for the sake of training.  The problem is that when there is no race to prepare for my mind rarely allows me to run guilt-free.  If the past few years have taught me anything, it would be that I need at least 60 minutes in motion to feel the effects of a run.  Three or four miles just won't do most days.  Seven or eight is more to my liking.  Fifteen or 20 is even better.  Rather than allowing my mind to cannibalize itself with negative talk and self-doubt, my mind urges my body forward.  Sure, on occasion the mind is weak and wimps out when the body has more to give, but often times I find that I am outrunning myself.  Running from the flaws and imperfections and all the defects that mark my frail grasp on humanity.

All this is to say that some days when running for self, training plans or health is not enough, it is time to look outside one's self.  Some of my best runs have come when I've thought about others.  Dedicating a run to someone in need, whether it is a friend or stranger, often allows me to forget my own pain or frailty and push harder than I may have otherwise.  "How would that person run if they could?" is a question I will ask myself.

Which brings me to the present.  My plan is not unusual.  Many of you following this blog have done more for charity than I'll ever consider.  I am hoping this a first step.  Another test of self while contributing to a cause.

Three of my grandparents died of cancer.  My father is a survivor of prostate cancer.  My father-in-law is scheduled for surgery on Monday to remove cancerous tissue from his own prostate.  Both of my mother-in-law's brothers have survived their own battled with the disease.  Then what better way to take on the fight that by participating in the Georgetown County Relay For Life?

On Saturday May 5th, from noon till midnight, I shall attempt to circle the asphalt track at Waccamaw High School as many times as possible.  I am partnering with a team representing Waccamaw Middle School where my daughter attends.  To say I am excited by the opportunity and excited to have a training goal is to understate the obvious.

In the coming days or weeks I shall post a link to solicit donations.  To be clear - I loathe fundraising.  I hate asking for money.  However this is a different story.  If able to contribute, please know that I am forever grateful for your support.

As for a goal...  I am thinking a nice round number is appropriate.

5-0 maybe.

But if I reach that goal with time on the clock, you can be damn certain I will try to go further.

Marking Time

Twelve days till Cactus Rose.

So many details remain to be worked out.  So many thoughts to be reconciled before the signal to start is given.

I feel silly some days for how I go on and on about this event.  I know quite a few people who run ultras and barely make a peep about it.  Like Barry Sanders scoring touchdowns - act like you've been there before, and expect to get back.

However, I don't know that that feels like.

I know what it feels like to run a marathon.  I've had only two official finishes, but it seems as though I run them for breakfast.  I recall that within the first three miles of Lumberjack I was enamored with the idea of an ultra.  Until that moment I had hardcore, awake-at-night dreams of running the New York City Marathon.  Cruising into Central Park on a Sunday in November seems like the pinnacle of what I hoped to achieve in running, especially since I hoped to qualify for the even.  I don't believe in lotteries and wanted to make my own luck.

Then I set foot on the trail.  I tasted the wildness of nature; being alone with nothing but my thoughts for hours on end as if I were the only man on earth.  Then I gulped hard on the pain of stopping short.

I DNF'd my first marathon.  I had to stop due to unbearable physical pain.  I was angry at myself and angry at anyone and everything on the planet for several days though pictures from the time may show differently.  Lumberjack ended on a sour note, but it was noticeably free of anger.  There was plenty of emotion, but anger was not one of them.  I knew this was were I wanted to be.

For me the marathon was about speed and the medal.  The ultra marathon is about something different.  I know I can run a marathon with short notice.  It may take 3:30 or maybe 4:30, but I can give you the miles if I get twelve hours to be ready.  One hundred miles is different.  There is no guarantee I will finish.  Hell, with the course topography in the Texas hill country there is no guarantee I'll finish the first loop.  However, if I finish the fourth loop I may learn a few things I would never know after twenty six point two.

I may talk a lot and say some thoroughly stupid shit at time, but I'd rather let it out than keep it bottled up.

In twelve days I plan to let my legs, lungs and heart do the talking.

#DoEpicShit - Whatever you do, make your effort EPIC.

Deconstructing Me

This past three (THREE) years have been about reconstructing myself into something new.  Something better.  Something unrecognizable from my past.  I wanted to be far removed from my recollection of a fat, slow, unattractive person with flaws and faults and hang-ups and so many self-erected barricades to personal growth and success.  I assumed running would be the salvation from that past.  For the most part it has worked.

My physical being is not the same.  The scale and my clothing sizes would support that statement.  However I am plagued by the ongoing knowledge that I am still - emotionally - a shell of the person I want to be.  That change is proving to be the tougher challenge.

As I have mentioned before, this spring I became a fan of The Mental Illness Happy Hour, a podcast created by comedian Paul Gilmartin.  The amazing thing about Paul's show is how he has brought together a collection of people that all yield insights into my own life and personality.  I have been struck dumb on more than one occasion upon hearing my own words or thoughts flung back at me by a veritable stranger through the magic of the internet.  Such a thunderbolt struck on Saturday.

The last Friday's interview subject was Teresa Strasser.  You may know her from Adam Carrola's radio show or various programs on cable television.  Which stood out most about Teresa's story is the self-doubt she possesses.  She is capable and successful in her craft, yet holds on tightly to the fear that she is a disappointment to those around her.  In the past she has avoided assignments to avoid failing those whom count on her.  The ridiculous point is that avoiding the work creates the disappointment.

This is something I must deal with as well.  I am clueless as to the cause.  My childhood was not burdensome or pressurized, nor particularly stressful.  My parents were not tyrants.  They were proud of me, though I sensed that I could have always been a tiny bit better.  They saw promise.  They total me I had promise.  Promise that when realized would - should -yield success in my future, in whatever manner I chose to utilize that promise.

Yet nothing stirred me.  I did okay in school so long as I was engaged, but I rarely chose to excel.  In my professional career I set my limitations based on the expectations of others and my other perceived weaknesses. If I could not envision success I did not pursue the dream.  Just getting by was my code.  Not a great code by which to live a life.

The fear inside me was that I am truly not a capable or talented or gifted as people perceive, and that when I fail they will realize as much and either pity me or worse, realize their mistake and cast me aside as some loser not worth their time or effort.  The fear is that I am really a small person inside - mentally, intellectually, emotionally - and that everyone around me has overestimated my abilities.

Then I became a runner.  On the course is the only time I don't fear disappointing people.  Sure, the lead up to a race may be a source of nerves or jitters.  How will people respond if my time is slower than expected, if I am not able to finish the race?  The first mile is usually burdened by these stupid thoughts.  Then slowly they are supplanted by thoughts of chasing the other runners ahead of me, like a dog after the mail truck.  I forget that I am in danger of showing weakness.  I realized that I am not running for anyone but myself.  On Saturday I raced no one but my own inhibitions and the clock.  And I won.

The truth is that no one every pushed me to run.  Physical activity was not a focus as a kid.  I tried team sports but that is different.  Had I felt the true thrill of running as a kid, a teenager or even a young adult there is no telling how differently I may see myself today.  Maybe I would feel more capable, more complete.

The epiphany of Saturday is that my running is not able to disappoint anyone other than myself.  I have to live up to expectations established by me alone.

If I had but one desire in life to be fulfilled, it would be to walk as tall today as I did Saturday.  To be as fast and determined and dedicated in my non-running life as I am when barreling toward that finish line.  To know that I am what other people see when they look at me.

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I do fear that I am becoming redundant in my writing of late.  I may have trouble recalling the subject and tone of previous posts and am probably repeating the same tired drivel.  In truth I rarely read (i.e. proofread) my posts once they are published.  Call it a shotgun approach.  Double barreled buckshot.  Sawed off.

There is a lot of good anxiety at the moment in my life.  I have been working with clients and making a little money.  I am selling stuff only and emboldening people to tear down self-imposed obstacles.  I have been communicating with friends and family on a somewhat better level, really getting to the root of matters and trying earnestly to learn where I became the me that struggles to be anything other than me.

Cactus Rose is drawing close.  Beyond that I do not know for certain.  The road is twisted and I do not see clear of the bend.

Finally! The #DoEpicShit Technical Tee Shirts Are Here!

Here they are!  Two quality tech tees with a truly epic statement to live by in all that we do.  The shirts are available in men's and women's sizes.  Please note the alternate spelling on the second layout.  I have offered two versions to appeal to those of you that believe in the sentiment but do not want to present such an in your face statement.  Some people may still be offended.  But they need to get over themselves.

Click here to visit the order page and secure your #DoEpicShit (in either version) today!!!  Free shipping also.

My Craziest Idea Yet!

The last thirty-six hours have been pretty dark.  Lots of bad thoughts have rattled around my brain and left me feeling rather shitty.  But as these things usually go, I eventually settle back, evaluate the situation and begin to isolate the reasons for the fog.  Sometimes there is no identifiable reason.  This time there is.

As part of training for Cactus Rose I was planning to participate in the Woods Ferry 24 hour trail run.  I have not run a timed event and really need to practice for running through sunrise since I flamed out at Lumberjack.  However, finances being what they aren't, I cannot make the trip to Chester, SC for Woods Ferry.  

When the realization hit that I could not make the trip I went into a spiral.  Did not understand why till this afternoon during my ten miler.  A twenty-four hour run is not a 5k nor a marathon.  An entirely different level of epic shit.

Like a bolt of lightning from the heavens, a flash of inspiration hit.  A dear friend willing to listen and commiserate suggested I do my own 24 hour run around town.  What the Hell?  Why the Hell not?  I think I shall!

The details have yet to be worked out.  I still have to obtain final approval from the Home Office.  On Saturday, September 3rd I hope to run a solo 24.  I'll do what I can, as my body and weather permit, taking breaks when necessary.  Click the link below for the challenge on Dailymile should anyone want to join me virtually.

Does this dance have a name?  Of course...

The Do Epic Shit 24 Hour Non Jog


**UPDATE**


The top male and female finishers, on foot and/or wheeled, will receive a Do Epic Shit tee.  Quantities are limited so winners will receive what I send them and like it!

The Evolution of My Running Via Social Media

This is the presentation as written for my visit with Google's Chicago offices on Monday, August 15th.  I was invited to dicuss running and the impact social media had on my goals, namely deciding to pursue ultramarathons.  My impressions of the day will be revealed at a later time.


Final warning - this post is longer than most blogs.  It is the complete version of the presentation, so if you don't like long reads you may either take breaks or not read it.  Good luck.


Intro...

Did you see someone grossly under dressed at the supermarket last night?

What did you eat for breakfast this morning?

Have you related some horribly mundane aspect of your life yet today?

Does anyone even care?

     Once upon a time these questions are what I thought social media was all about.  I assumed social media was the nature preserve of the narcissistic, attention-starved and self-absorbed. The potential of sites such as Twitter eluded me.  Even Facebook seemed superficial and largely voyeuristic.  I cannot say that my experience is true for everyone.  I can say that my experience is beyond anything I could have ever hoped for in life.

     My story is about transformation. Though not in the obvious sense.  The physical changes are apparent, but I don't blog health and wellness in a direct sense.  Being healthy in mind and body is only a fraction of my tale. The way you see me may be influenced by outward appearances – a fit guy, a strong runner, maybe even a decent writer. This gives no indication of how I see myself.  My life had been a study in self-loathing.  I never felt that I measured up.  Hell, I never even tried.  When things got tough I usually gave up.
     I am guessing you are scoffing now, saying “what the Hell is so easy about running?”  You may have tried running – through a park or on a gym treadmill.  Isn't a marathon difficult?  Yes, running is difficult.  But it is also easy.  Running boils down to foot placement and transfer.  Just maintain forward progress.

Discovering the potential of social media and the relationships that it can bring about is what led to me becoming an ultramarathoner.  I am sure you are now asking how in the hell that happens; but to understand this, you must first understand my background.

Back story...

     I lived a sedentary childhood – television & junk food.  No “active” role models and my parents did not push me.  One year of Little League Baseball marred by bad eyes and worse coordination.  I love baseball but I did not enjoy playing due to my lack of any physical skills.  The worst of it was that I was just not body-aware.  Once I was hit by a pitch squarely in the back.  The umpire tried to help me out and said to raise my arms up and down to work the soreness out of my shoulder blades. He then  ordered me to take first base.  The scene that followed was etched in my mind like an out-of-body experience.  I can still see myself trotting down the first base line with my arms flapping as if some great bird were struggling to take flight.  Laughter erupted in the stands.

     In high school I hatched a plan to get girls.  Football players get girls and I figured I could make the team and see what would happen.  Thinking my plan all the way through would have been a good idea.  I went to the first morning of summer practice but the heat and running scared me to death.  We ran wind sprints and laps in full pads.  We performed various drills and never really stopped moving.  The air was dead and water breaks infrequent.  One day of practice cured me of any illusions I may have had about being a football star and dating the head cheerleader.  I survived the first morning of two-a-days.  But as the hours and minutes ticked off the clock till the afternoon session I knew I could not go through that hell again.  I rode my bike over to the head coach's house to return my gear, rather than quit at practice.  I could not bring myself to face my peers.  Tears streamed down my face as I handed the equipment to the coach.  The sense of failing myself and others stung for a long time.

     In college, club rugby and drinking were my only physical activities until my PE credit in spring of senior year.  Long Distance Running was three mornings a week at eight o'clock.  Who the hell does that?  The course was pass/fail with a final exam consisting of running six miles in under one hour.  I did it to graduate.  Running for enjoyment was not a course requirement.

     I did try to make running a part of my life as I transitioned out of college.  There were valiant efforts, separated by long pauses and stretches of rather sedentary existence.  I ran occasionally during the years following graduation.  Working late, drinking and traveling from North Carolina to see my girlfriend in Myrtle Beach gave me plentiful excuses to not run.  Then as my girlfriend and I were married and started a family running often took a backseat.  Running was never fun.  Breaking through that mental barrier seemed impossible.  The physical hurdles were difficult enough.  Around the birth of my second daughter, in 2002, I was diagnosed with degenerative cartilage in my knees and advised not to run.  I would lay awake at night from the pain.  As I recall, the doctor did not have to tell me twice.  Running was a means to an end, a way to lose excess weight.  Because of the physical and mental difficulties it never occurred to me that running should be fun.

A story has no beginning or end, arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead.

Graham Greene, opening line from The End of the Affair (1951)

     The demarcation line between the old me and the new me as a runner came in November 2008. I had been reading a blog focused on self-improvement and lifestyle changes.  The writer posted extensively on fitness, diet, scheduling and accountability.  During this time an old goal list resurfaced where I had once written that I'd like to run a marathon.  Run a marathon.  That was it.  No expected finishing time. No age I'd like to complete the run by.  Just run a marathon.  I was not happy with my physical condition at the time and was frustrated with previous attempts at weight loss.  It was time to make a concerted effort and be bold.

     The book Marathon Training For Non-Runners was my guide.  After the sixteen week program I ran a close approximation of twenty six point two miles through my neighborhood.  No starting line with party music, bull horns or starter's pistol.  No road barricades or police redirecting traffic.  No water stations manned by cheerful volunteers, just me running laps through my neighborhood and tossing empty water bottles in the yard and picking up full replacements as I shuffled past my house.  My wife did manage to ride a bike alongside me for the final eight miles.  To say that either one of us enjoyed the day would be an overstatement.  Four and a half hours after I started I collapsed in my front yard.  The only certainties were a) I was done b) I was not dead... yet, and c) I would have to be an idiot to ever try that again. Every part of my body hurt.

     An interesting thing occurred over the course of the next several days.  The aches and pains subsided.  I longed for the emotional peace that came with sustained physical effort.  I missed the comfort I found on the road.  Gradually I recanted my previous declaration against repeating such a feat and began in earnest to mold myself into a runner.  I longed to call myself a marathoner.

Social Media...

     By the summer of 2010 my marathon record was two entries with no finishes.  One DNF, or Did Not Finish, due to injury at Chickamauga [in 2009] and one DNS, or Did Not Start, due to inclement weather in Myrtle Beach the following February.  Little did I know my running experience was about to be altered dramatically.

     The facts are a little fuzzy now but I either initiated or responded to a message board post looking for a running partner in my little community of Murrells Inlet, approximately fifteen miles south of Myrtle Beach.  The message post turned out to be from a 24-year-old woman whose boyfriend ran occasionally but not for the distances that Julie was hoping to reach.  The result was an early morning meet up one summer Saturday.  Needless to say, my wife was not comfortable with that situation.  Meeting a stranger of the opposite sex for a dawn run would seem like a hook up to most people.  I only wanted a running partner; I never entertained the thought of replacing my wife.  However, if you repeat this story as my mother might, leaving out the pertinent facts such as looking for a running partner, it would be easy to get the wrong idea.  For me running with a partner was an awakening.  I was gradually beginning to enjoy the act of running.  Slowly I had chipped away at the physical and emotional obstacles to going long.  Whereas running for thirty minutes seemed like torture then, now running for an hour is merely a warm up.  But that morning run with Julie introduced me to the joy of running with a group.  I still run mostly solo, and sometimes prefer it, but running as a group affords a different dynamic.
     The North Myrtle Beach Running Group deserves credit for christening me as The UnaRunner.  I was still new to the group and during this time began growing my winter running beard [in August I believe, but why delay] and with my longish, uncombed hair and scraggly beard there was a vague physical resemblance to the mugshot of Ted Kacynski of UNABomber infamy.  

The nickname was based soley on my outward appearance, though it does harken to a feeling of separation from the world at times.  I had yet to define my personality.  My voice was as yet unrealized. Interestingly technology opened that partition between the loner and a greater community of people and personalities.  That opening – or awakening rather – allowed me be find a place in the world and dear friends to share it.  I can meet new people or catch up with old friends; learn about others' experiences and expectations.  I learned some things about myself in the process – I am a stronger runner that I thought and not bound by self-imposed limitations with regards to my running.  A mantra I began to develop during this time was any distance, anytime, anywhere.

     The chance meeting with Julie, my young running friend, also led me to a fairly new website for social athletes. Dailymile is often reluctantly described as the Facebook of athletic training.  Members may log various workouts with all sorts of detail, post notes, photos or video, and create relationships through friend connections similar to Facebook.  One difference is that dailymile is an open community. Anyone may view any other members’ complete profiles. While the developers have recently built in a layer of security features, the original intent was to foster an environment of sharing and nurturing.  One fun effect of dailymile is meet-ups in various cities hosting races, including marathons.  A dailymile meet up is akin to a mini college reunion.  

As I ran through the streets of Myrtle Beach, in both the October half marathon and February full marathon, I often heard my name, whether it was Logan or The UnaRunner, called from the crowd by unfamiliar voices.  I also saw the signs cheering on “dailymile” runners.  An unexpected consequence of joining dailymile was the realization of how much it would add to my enjoyment of running.

     Reluctantly I waded into the Twitter pond, unsure of how it worked.  The whole thing seemed complicated and intimidating.  As I built my friends list on dailymile I began to follow many of them on Twitter as well.  That sparked short conversations and enhanced connections.  My wife realized the power of Twitter when I decided to have my oldest daughter tweet my pace times during the Myrtle Beach Marathon.  I passed my family at two separate points on the course as well as the finish line.  While I focused on running my race, through a set of hand gestures Lochlyn was able to update my feed.  My goal was to use this race to qualify for either the New York City Marathon or Boston.  Boston qualifying had been a much talked about quest among many of my online buddies so I knew they would be waiting to hear the results.  Having the capability for my daughter to upload my pace status in real time brought a whole new element to racing.  It helped provide that push I needed to achieve one of my goals.  Later, after the race, as I was reading the phenomenal number of responses on dailymile, Facebook and Twitter, I was blown away by this show of support from people I only knew in the virtual world.

     These new connections led me to create Why Logan Runs – The UnaRunner's Manifesto about my experiences not only in running, but in life.  It was about finding my voice.  Being honest.  Being exposed and revealing my inner self.  Aside from writing expanded race reports to link on dailymile and Facebook, I chose to write about deeply personal issues.  I evolved to more abstract concepts.  I had an opportunity to flesh out ideas and find answers.  The realization came that I could speak from my heart and mind, and that people would respond favorably.
     For me blogging has not been about hit counts but personal connections.  Real relationships.  Talking about things some folks cannot or will not understand.  Presenting various facets of my life reminded some readers of themselves.  Recently a friend named Melissa, who will be hosting me at my next ultra in October, said “what you have is a gift, you share gifts, you don't lock them in a room and covet them and brag about them to the world.”  Her words reminded me that people are looking for reasons to fail.  Through my experience they can find hope to succeed.  Rather than boast of what my talents are, I illuminate the aspects of my personality and life that people can associate with regardless of their own innate physical abilities.  People want to know that in some basic way we are not much different.  On some level we all share the struggle.

Impact...

     When people ask the age old question - What is the meaning of life? - it is usually a query as to one's place or purpose in the world.  Human beings in general want to leave this world knowing they made an impact, that they mattered, that they made a difference, that they will be remembered fondly. Rare is the culture that eschews legacy beyond existence in this plane.  The Tarahumara Indians of Mexico are one such example.  They believed one's spirit did not proceed to the afterlife till all traces of their existence were erased from this world.

     I believe that to discuss my own impact in cyberspace would smack of conceit, pride and foolish arrogance.  Rather than blow my own horn my preference is for other people to spread the word.  Not that I want to hear myself eulogized or need my ego stroked.  Rather I feel that how people talk about you when you are not around is a true measure of self.  The most telling statements on your character are those which you never hear.
     Impact is a curious idea.  Impact may refer to any number of experiences great or small.  Think globally, act locally speaks to improving the world through direct action.  We may not always have that option, or know where to even begin.  It is possible though that by focusing on self we can improve our relationship with others and create a more positive experience in the world.  Rather than pontificate or suppose how I have made an impact on the world of social media or on people in general, I would prefer to relate how my interactions on sites such as dailymile and twitter have enriched my life, presenting new opportunities that I considered improbable as recently as eight months ago.  It was these connections, the support, and encouragement that the various social media outlets provided that enabled me to elevate my running to an entirely different level.

     The transition beyond my ordinary came with the decision to forgo marathoning in favor of an ulramarathon.  Without that I would be just another dude jogging around town.  An occasional racer.  One of the guys, so to speak.  Like many people who take running somewhat seriously and enjoy a good yarn, I read Born To Run by Chris MacDougall.  Okay, I read it three times.  The last time I read it was during a camping trip last summer [2010] in the Smoky Mountains, in the midst of running and hiking thirty-five miles over three days.  Some of that time was spent hiking with my wife and my two daughters.  I also retreated into the woods alone, scrambling across and around the granite dome of Stone Mountain, NC.  I was hooked on the idea of trail running.  It was a totally invigorating experience.

     As I read the story of prehistoric and professional ultrarunners racing through the Copper Canyons of Mexico, the idea of running further than twenty-six point two miles intrigued me, even if it seemed a distant possibility at best.  At this point I had not yet earned my first official marathon medal, though I had run a marathon distance twice previously.  No doubt stumbling into ultra territory was intimidating yet alluring all the same; however, the story of the Tarahumara Indians and their legacy of ultrarunning inspired me to reach for higher goals.

     To train for and participate in an ultramarathon you have to draw on many sources of strength and motivation.  It may not be entirely within you.  At least not from the beginning.  I suppose no one is born an ultrarunner.  I still would not be an ultrarunner, nor consider making successive forays into such events without the impact of other people on my life.  My running led me to social media and an understanding of how strangers with unrelated backgrounds or interests can find a thread of common interest to spark true friendship.

     Many of the people on my various friends lists are little more than acquaintances.  Then there are the friends that merit frequent look-ins, but do not develop any sort of relationship beyond the superficial.  We may share a sense of humor or common purpose, but even then a separation exists.  Finally, there is that small group of people, without whom the course of one's life would be remarkably different.  These are the stream diverters, the course changers.  These individuals are people I would not know without running, and most certainly would not be tackling the physical and emotional hurdles in my life in the manner to which I am today.

Farra...

     We can spend time reading and watching, studying and learning, but until we test ourselves it is all a waste of time.  In spite of reading books and magazine articles about ultra events, the act of running farther than a marathon was still abstract.  It was a distant objective, something I'd dream about but assumed I would never realize.  Through dailymile I met Farra, a multiple marathon finisher and, at the time of our encounter, a recent finisher of a 100 mile trail race near her home in Michigan.  Chatting with Farra, learning of how she decided to participate in such an event, and how it affected her physically and emotionally, led me to consider entering an ultra of my own.  Discovering real people do these things was incredibly moving.  She was the first person I ever spoke with that had completed such an achievement.  We have tons of marathoners and triathletes in Myrtle Beach, but deciding to extend my distance goal certainly made me something of an oddity in my running group.

     Running an ultramarathon is about testing one's limits of physical endurance.  There is also the mental endurance, the ability to see a situation clearly and rationally and make decisions that will allow one to either finish the race safely, or to get out before serious injury occurs.  Through her own set of personal circumstances Farra and I talked about clarity; removing the veil and seeing a situation or oneself as it really is.  No delusion.  For her it meant sobriety from alcohol.  At the time I needed clarity in my life as well. Following her example awakened me to consider how my decisions impacted my self, my family and my life in total.  While I may not be in complete control I am more aware.

Jessica...

     If you spend any time running you may have experienced the endorphin rush associated with long bouts of physical exertion.  The feel-good hormones can be fleeting, seemingly never quite within reach, but the allure of another fix is a powerful and compelling reason to hit the street or trail.  Run long enough and what you find is more than the way home.  Running long distances has afforded me the opportunity to think, to reflect, to reason and to rebuild myself in a manner not possible through any sedentary means.
     For me long distance running has served to replace chemical dependency.  Six years ago I was diagnosed with some sort of chemical imbalance.  I suspect a mild form of bipolar-ism, but I do recall the physician being reluctant to pinpoint my particular brand of crazy.  I followed up a rather untidy public emotional fracture with a round of Lexapro and several months of therapy.  But I never broke through.
     Running, sans iPod, has afforded me the time to think.  I have been accused of over-thinking and believe that listening to the voices in my head is part of my manic/depressive nature.  This is one reason why I turned to blogging, to get the thoughts out.  I needed to pour out the negative and sift through the positive.  One benefit to blogging about my struggle with mental illness is connecting with people in similar situations.  My friend Jessica has not only been through similar battles; she makes and sells the tee shirts.  

Jessica suffers from diagnosed bipolar-ism, has insane family issues, but is fortunate to be comfortable in her own skin and buffered by a wonderful husband and beautiful children.  She has been very open about her situation and has offered sage advice on dealing with all that mental illness brings to the table.  Also, she is a believer in the healing power of running.  When the weather is awful or the distance just too much to bear on a given day, that is the time to reflect on why I run.  Not some weight control regimen or circled race date on the calendar.  The greater benefit of ultratraining has been my metamorphosis into a clearer mind and cleaner body.  This effect was not something I was able to achieve till I made the conscious decision to go farther.

Debbie...

      The manner in which I arrived at my first ultra is something that may not be altogether unusual, but was certainly curious in how it unfolded.  Debbie, a runner from Portland, Oregon was preparing for her first one hundred miler eight weeks after my second marathon in Myrtle Beach.  She knew from my posts on dailymile that I was considering an ultra.  So she did what any married mother of three would do in a similar situation – extend an invitation to host a total stranger from across the country on a trip through 400 acres of forest land in Washington state, just west of Seattle.

     Russ McGarry, the host of the Three Non Joggers podcast, put it best when describing my visit to his home while I was in Portland that weekend – saying I am an ultra marathoner is like the secret handshake.  He could have assumed I was some deranged stalker or worse, yet knowing I was crazy enough to actually run an ultra calmed any fears of what personal danger I may pose.  The ultra running community is so small in relation to the millions that participate in distances from 5k to marathon every year, that earning the label ultrarunner made me family.  In that way Debbie felt safe when letting a relative stranger into her van outside a public transit station on a cold rainy day in April.

     Without Debbie’s invitation I would still be in the what if stage.  Debbie offered me an opportunity without to become an ultramarathoner reservation.

Sara...
     People run for various reasons.  Whether it is weight loss or general health, self-esteem or self-fulfillment, or just to cross an item off a bucket list, all the possible reasons to run [or exercise] boil down to one thing – being better today than I was yesterday.  Being stronger this year than I was last year.  The spark to your better self is hardly planned.  However there are days when my own personal goals do not matter.  When the heat or cold or damp creeps in, the last thing I want to do is run.  If my stomach is out of sorts or I'm achy from previous workouts the last thing I care to do is train.  Even when I have a date on the calendar and a schedule to maintain I often lack for motivation to make the effort.  Therefore it becomes imperative to find other sources of inspiration outside myself.  I try to follow the efforts of great ultrarunners.  The likes of Scott Jurek, Anton Krupicka, Geoff Roes, and others are legendary and I love to relive their exploits through race reports and articles in running publications.  

However, an elite ultrarunner I am not.  Following the elites is like perusing the Sears Wish Book as a kid.  I coveted all the toys I saw inside yet knew I would never get to play with them.  I may never be that guy to charge hard over the peaks and passes of Western States, Hardrock or Leadville.  Where I do find inspiration is in the stories of the little people, the unknowns, the people for whom exercise is an avenue to a better life.   Sara and her niece Caylee are two such people.

     In less than four years Sara has refashioned herself in mind and body.  I cannot retell her story and do justice to the struggles she has endured.  While in the midst of a last minute two hundred mile bicycle ride Sara sent a text saying I was an inspiration to her.  I have not ridden a total of two hundred miles on a bicycle in the span of my life.
     As for Caylee, this beautiful little girl is suffering a fatal illness.  Her life will not be long or boundless.  The dreams of her parents may not be realized in the life of this child.  As a father of two daughters myself, thinking about the troubles Caylee has experienced and still faces in the future is overwhelming.  This little girl is never far from my thoughts because she has the desire but not the ability.  She demands that all that she can from life and is fighting everyday to be a child.  In February I ran a local 10k with her name written on my chest.  I finished in second place by a mere seven seconds and set my personal record for the distance.  Some days are easy, other days are when you need to run for something greater than yourself.  Tapping into that emotion can produce amazing results.

Andrea...

     When runners tackle an ultramarathon, at some point they will bring a pacer onto the course.  A pacer is a person responsible for holding the runner's hand through the late stages of a race.  Trees have a habit of jumping into one's way in the wee hours of the night, so the pacer keeps the runner on the course.  The pacer is charged with the inglorious tasks of keeping the runner moving, fed, hydrated, motivated and out of trouble.  Often the pacer performs all these tasks without any recognition outside of the gratitude of their own runner.  But for many runners there is no chance of reaching the finish line without the selfless unheralded efforts of the pacer.
     Throughout the process of preparing for this talk I have experienced numerous ups and downs. I often questioned why I should be here, what I have to offer, and why anyone would care.  Before I knew this opportunity would present itself I unwittingly acquired a pacer.  Andrea was a cheerleader when my drive failed me.  She was an amateur therapist when my sense of self-worth took a nose dive.  She applauded my good days and consoled me on the tough days when I did not care to run or write or even move from the couch.  It was not till I began my preparations for this presentation that I realized the importance, or true value, of this friend.  It was only a few weeks ago that I even acknowledged to myself her role as a pacer.  She kept me going when I did not want to, because while I did want this opportunity I let the voices in my head try to convince me otherwise.  She performed this task for no other reason than she believed it was the right thing to do.

Conclusion...

     What can I say that you may not already know or understand?  Even for the strongest and most fit people running may not be easy, or fun.  You have to choose to make it an enjoyable activity.  As it is with the tools you create and implement here at Google or elsewhere in cyberspace, there is no value without the human element.  If the content or applied use does not add to the quality of my life I shall not give it a second glance.  I began my blog not with hopes of one day speaking before an audience as I am today, but with the desire to pour out my emotions in some meaningful way.  It is a fortunate circumstance that I found an audience.  

     On occasion members of my family and friends have sought to remind me that this online family I have developed is not real in a flesh and blood sense.  I may share stories and pictures via the web, we may commiserate via text or Facebook chat, but I defy anyone to disprove the reality of today.  As I stand here I see the faces of a few of the people responsible for the day – Andrea, Sara, Erin – I recall the conversations that cemented our friendships.  

     Social media fosters a vulnerability when hiding behind the avatar or screen name.  Most runners or amateur athletes strive for self-improvement and self-discovery.  Becoming better than they are, or better than they thought possible.  Building up ourselves and others.  Therefore I reveal my faults, my weaknesses, my shortcomings, my fears.  With that vulnerability comes a certain amount of empathy from peers and the general public.

Social media opens all those normally closed doors. Part of the allure of your blog is how wide open the doors are.

Nathan Moore, local runner

     Just write and something will happen.  Put it out there and let people find it.  Be honest, genuine, truthful.  I am not compelled to reveal every secret plumbed from the depths, but the readers have to know they are getting something real.  This shit is not fiction.  

     Before I wandered into the blogosphere I rarely if ever wrote.  Most of my deep thoughts floated around in the quiet swirls or angst-filled torrents of my mind.  Then they were gone, like a flash flood through a parched desert.  Now I am able to capture those thoughts, let them coalesce and mesh into something coherent.  The product is a salve that moves me closer to healing.  Posting my essays to the world allows others the same opportunity.

     I have had people share with me their experiences in addiction, loss, mental illness and self-discovery. Funny how the progression of sharing flows.  Run – Learn - Write – Share – Receive  When I initially shared my story of depression and mental illness I received a tweet from a friend on dailymile about Mentalpod.  Paul Gilmartin, a stand-up comic, created this podcast as an outlet to discuss the various aspects of mental illness and how people deal with their particular demons.  His usual guests are other comics, writers and entertainers.  At the time it was a relatively new podcast.  I wasted little time catching up on old episodes.  One I remember in particular was an interview with stand-up comic Marc Maron, who hosts his own podcast WTF.  Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I listened to Maron's interview with Paul Reiser – Diner, My Two Dads, Mad About You, etc. They mused about the time a young Maron approached Reiser after a stand-up set.  Maron was a college freshman and yet to embark on his own comedy career and wanted to ask Reiser how to get started in the business.  You've got to just do it was the response.  That sentiment may be applied to other aspects of life – just run, just love, just live, just be.

     I choose to run.  I choose to write.  I choose to allow people to enter my life and welcome the impression upon me from these chance encounters.  Life comes down to a series of decisions and interactions.  At every turn there is an impression left or impact felt.  Each of us has the power to write our own story, whatever that may be.  No matter how you choose to write it, make your story worthwhile.  Be epic.

The Week in Preview

The next seven days will be a whirlwind of activity.  I am preparing for a trip to Chicago on Saturday.  There will be time to meet numerous dailymile members.  There is even the small matter of a half marathon on Sunday.  However, the real purpose of this trip takes place one week from today (Monday the 15th).  I will make a presentation in the Chicago offices of Google on running and social media, chiefly how running led me to social media and how that in turn affected my running life.  After I return home I'll serialize the text of my presentation for the blog and include a link to the video recording.

To say I'm nervous is an understatement.  I do not want to embarrass myself or the people that are responsible for this opportunity.  The approach to take may be that it is another race.  Nerves are to be expected, but only the pistol fires the beast will rise up and own the room.  lol

At any rate, good luck to all the dailymilers participating in the Rock 'N Roll Half Marathon.  Should be a blast.

Punch-drunk

This morning I participated in the running "group" therapy session with a fellow runner.  To compare my situation with hers is laughable.  I am continually shocked with the stories she shares, yet am honored to know someone so at ease with herself and willing to listen to my troubles.  For what its worth we are able to bounce ideas back and forth about running, child rearing and dealing with the varied aspects of mental illness.

We often discuss the fog, that sense of a heavy shroud falling over one's eyes, clouding our vision and obscuring the positive, happy things in our lives.  The fog can roll in light and quick, or slow and heavy.  In whatever manner the fog settles it sucks all the same.

My friend said her fog rolled in overnight.  Exhaustion and overwrought emotion set her on the edge of tears.  Raising a young family has a way of sucking all the energy out of you.  The worst part of dealing with the fog is listening to the voices that, like the siren's song, seek to pull you onto the rocks.  Listen too intently and proceed at your own risk.  Just know these voices are not friendly.

Even though we know the voices are internal and imaginary, she wondered why it is that she forgets how to lift the fog on her own - it is possible if you can suppress the voices and actively seek the light.  Not easy but possible.  

It occurred to me that battling the fog is much like a bare-knuckled brawl.  The fighters know to keep their hands up to guard against the flurry of jabs and hooks from the opponent.  As the fight progresses to the later rounds the fighters don't simply forget to maintain their guard, one of the fighters may simply get too tired to keep hands raised.  Suddenly fist meets face.  Head snaps back.  With enough force the body is off its heels and sent flying.  If the fighter is dazed enough he may not get up off the mat.

That is how it how it is with mental illness.  The voices inside my head are tireless.  They are constantly on the offensive.  I try to maintain my guard but sometimes I just get too damn tired to keep fighting.  That is when the sledgehammer connects.

The caveat is, that unlike our hero in the above clip, internal struggle is impossible to completely defeat.  There is no knock out punch.

* I make no claim to represent either player in the clip attached to this post.  That may incite future to debate as to whether each combatant is the self or the voices.  Feel free to comment in this regard.