"Entiendo ahora lo que mis padres sienten, por ver y hacerme feliz. Contigo igual, y si no con un beso, entonces con el monedero, y si no con ser atleta, entonces con estar siempre a tu derecha. Porque estar a tres pasos de ti, es ser el ultimo en llegar, tal como he aprendido en el deporte, cuando termino en segundo, tercer, o cuarto lugar."
"Aunque no lo creas, hoy voy vestido con disfraz de Halloween, completo con nariz roja, zapatos gigantes, y colores abundantes. El traje me queda perfecto, como si fuera uniforme, porque desde que te fuiste, juego el papel de un payaso. Que hace un caballero en el circo, que hace un hombre sin el amor de su vida?"
"Dame solo una vista, un pedazito de ti, por casualidad tropezar o de una distancia admirar. En eso veras encender mi rostro, desaparecer esta mirada sin fondo, este cuerpo gastado, y las ganas volver. Porque eres mi choque de alma, mi golpe despertador."
"Recuerdo cuando me tocaron en el hombro una vez, y que pena, ya casi se me olvida la sensacion. Pero en ese momento, bajo una torrente de alivio, senti el poder femenino, como si fuera fragmento del amor materno. Bendito sea tal sentimiento, que habiendo madurado, se muere por desemprender en llamada mujer."
"No mostrarE nuestra foto si algun dia no te encuentras. No dejarE caer lagrimas falsas si en un futuro me fallezcas. A lo contario, te quiero con un amor sincero, verbo presente, hoy y cada dia, porque lamentar lo de ayer cuando en un pasado estaba mas que dispuesto, serIa una gran hipocresIa. (Observaciones de la vida alrededor)."
No me digas que ahora estas perdido, comi si de pronto la vida le faltara su sentido. Que tu depresion no tiene explicacion, el no poder dormir, corriendo peor que nunca. No hace tanto la filosofia me servia bien. El amor me correspondia or por lo menos la esperanza existia. Por eso creo que la salida debe por algun lado estar, y cuando la encuentre todo volvera ser exitoso, profundo, y mas que nada bello al parecer.
"Ni la luna, vestida de gala y majestuosa esta noche, brillaba con el mismo resplandor que alumbra tu rostro. Es como si toda la belleza del mundo existiera solo a traves de ti, y que sin ella no hay manera de vivir, o tal vez entre memorias y recuerdos que has dejado por ahi."
"De repente se me hace urgente. Cambiar, mejorar, por un milagro rezar, para que en mi puedas encontrar, o conseguir amar, el hombre que todo te quiso dar . Espera un poquito mas, y quizas te sorprenderas, ya veras."
"Prefiero la espina a la cuchilla, lo temporal al desafio total. Porque la perfeccion no existe, y cualquier planeta donde usted no se encuentre, me sabe amargo y a pura mierda, con el agua del mar, volviendo mas salada."
"Llega un momento donde todo parece ridiculo. Yo, con una media puesta sin la otra, perdiendo la cabeza, corriendo furiosamente en la rotunda. Y a donde llegar? Para que tanta prisa, que clase de locura! Quizas para bajar la fiebre, olvidar lo que uno no se merece, por no tener lo que siempre quise, y por lo cual ni tal vez califico."
"AhI me dejE caer, en esa nube de fatiga. Desorientado, temaba que en mi prisa te habIa abandonado. Pero de pronto sentI una brisa que me fue llevando hacia ti, y desde entonces no paro de persistir si es que en la distancia ya te vi." (letras mayUsculas llevan acento)
Aunque te sembrE un jardIn de primavera, perfumado con mi amor de veras, la flor que no encontraste es la Ultima en salirse, por ser tan orgullosa e invincible. Planteado como ella me fijo porque te amo como ayer te quise. (letras mayUsculas llevan acento)
Cuando me pregunten que hice este verano, dire emocionadamente que viaje a distintos continentes. Uno repleno con jardines de flores, musica de tambores, y tu bendita residencia. El otro despoblado y marcado por tu ausencia. Por lo tanto me quedo cuidadano de la primera.
Te amo como el resplandor de un verano inclemente, que al llegar las lluvias, esas aguas refrescantes, me restituye con sus poderes. Los rayos que alumbran el cielo tempestuoso es mi corazon tronando por ti.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
At the Intersection of Sports and Real Life
Someday your name will be called, your number will be up, and the call will arrive. In that moment, everything that came before will make sense and seem like due process. Watching Greg McElroy get selected in the 7th round of the NFL draft with his family and Trey Wingo of ESPN fighting back tears, brought that home. (Inspired by the newest member of the New York Jets, at the intersection of sports and real life)
She made us cheer with her infectious smile. She made us gasp with her winning ease. Heroine, tragic figure, mother of three, and newly resurrected athlete. Marion, thank you for catapulting my own running career and to those who would have her crucified, how many of us have never lied to save our lives, with stakes no...t even close to being as high. (Inspired by M. Jones, at the intersection of sports and real Life)
In case you need confirmation that life is full of second chances, look no further than Michael Vick. I mean, where does he get that athletic ability to begin with? Once lost and now found, redemption is called turning your life around. (Inspired by the Eagles' starting QB, at the intersection of sports and real life)
An Iowa wrestler is ridiculed for defaulting at the state meet when it was revealed his next match would be against a girl. Where do we draw the line with equal rights, Title IX, and feminist propaganda? I was taught that a man should never lay his hands on a woman other than to make her feel loved. Any male athlete worth his “weight in class” would forfeit the title, especially in a sport where groping/grappling is the name of the game. (Inspired by Joel Northrup, at the Intersection of Sports and Real Life)
What's the difference between a man with nothing to lose and a well-balanced athlete with added perspective on life? The former is unbeatable, the latter is INVINCIBLE. Despite losing in a sudden death playoff on Sunday, pro golfer and family man David Toms was philosophical in defeat: "Winning here would not alter my life one way or another." (Inspired by the PGA Tour, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Let's not pretend that a man can hoist a trophy without the saving graces that accompany inspirational performances. While personifying perseverance, athletes like Bozella (the boxer) and Robles (the wrestler) were aided by the wind beneath their wings. For the latter it was the support of a mother in distress. And for the former it was the love of a woman behind bars. (Inspired by the ESPY Awards, at the intersection of sports and real life)
The character assasination of Jay Cutler reveals how public perception is fueled by appearances. Be careful you don't blink, stutter, or have a bad hair day because people will size you up in an instant, disgruntled Bears fans being just one segment of the population. (Inspired by the NFL playoffs, at the Intersection of Sports and Real Life
Now I have something in common with stalwart WR Randy Moss and it's not a big mouth or 4.2 speed. After being traded to the Vikings and later to the Titans, Moss still talks about his years in New England as if they were his best. And who knows, maybe the Patriots also miss that guy who could break open a game with one big play down the field. ( Inspired by #84, at the intersection of sports and real life)
On the eve following Andre Dawson's Hall of Fame induction speech, allow me to reverberate his scintillating words: "If you love the game of baseball, the game will love you back." Now in a world where such is seldom the case, sometimes the only way to make it through is by playing catch, putting on a uniform, or like ...me, going the distance. ( Inspired by Cooperstown 2010, at the intersection of sports and real life)
There are legends and all-time greats in every sport. And then there's Derek Jeter. Ony a demi-god could date Jessica Alba AND Jessica Biel, collect over 3,000 career hits, and still retain such poise and humility. Screw running! I want to wear #2, play shortstop for the New York Yankees, make $20 milion dollars a year, and go to work everyday to this introduction by Bob Sheppard and the crowd's ovation.
There are some things in life we just can't come to terms with. Maybe because we refuse to make peace with it or maybe for lack of an ultimate justification. We may submit ourselves to treatment, it may go into remission, but the heart is all but healed. Coach George Karl below knows exactly what I'm talking about. (In...spired by personal misfortune, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Ashley Judd, in describing her husband as a "gentleman racer" had this to say about Dario Franchitti: "I know I always have a parking spot reserved for me in his heart." Very well, then, but how about we make that an all-access permit with exclusive priviledges for the women we love. (Inspired by the Indianapolis 500, at the intersection of sports and real life.)
How many climbs will it take to break you? How many surges will you counter-attack? Go for broke, gamble, bid for glory on that weary summit, lest you should find yourself cracked and half-beaten, lacking in both strength and fortitude. Let us ride, then, with the courage of men with strained faces who will live to lov...e another day. (Inspired by the Tour de France, at the intersection of sports and real life)
I was going to criticize Lebron's tweet - Now or Never - before realizing that a similar ultimatum - This or Nothing - has been endorsed by me. We mean what we say in the sincerest of ways, every ounce of its raw, unfiltered emotion. Play hard or go home. Love passionately or renounce and fold. (Inspired by the heart of a champion, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Quite often, life’s anticipated moment comes not during regulation, but after 90 minutes of heartbreakingly close calls, near misses, and a war of attrition. Prepare for overtime with bated breath and saddled loins, because the difference between winning it all or losing what matters most is far from a bygone conclusio...n. (Inspired by the World Cup, at the intersection of sports and real life)
She made us cheer with her infectious smile. She made us gasp with her winning ease. Heroine, tragic figure, mother of three, and newly resurrected athlete. Marion, thank you for catapulting my own running career and to those who would have her crucified, how many of us have never lied to save our lives, with stakes no...t even close to being as high. (Inspired by M. Jones, at the intersection of sports and real Life)
In case you need confirmation that life is full of second chances, look no further than Michael Vick. I mean, where does he get that athletic ability to begin with? Once lost and now found, redemption is called turning your life around. (Inspired by the Eagles' starting QB, at the intersection of sports and real life)
An Iowa wrestler is ridiculed for defaulting at the state meet when it was revealed his next match would be against a girl. Where do we draw the line with equal rights, Title IX, and feminist propaganda? I was taught that a man should never lay his hands on a woman other than to make her feel loved. Any male athlete worth his “weight in class” would forfeit the title, especially in a sport where groping/grappling is the name of the game. (Inspired by Joel Northrup, at the Intersection of Sports and Real Life)
What's the difference between a man with nothing to lose and a well-balanced athlete with added perspective on life? The former is unbeatable, the latter is INVINCIBLE. Despite losing in a sudden death playoff on Sunday, pro golfer and family man David Toms was philosophical in defeat: "Winning here would not alter my life one way or another." (Inspired by the PGA Tour, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Let's not pretend that a man can hoist a trophy without the saving graces that accompany inspirational performances. While personifying perseverance, athletes like Bozella (the boxer) and Robles (the wrestler) were aided by the wind beneath their wings. For the latter it was the support of a mother in distress. And for the former it was the love of a woman behind bars. (Inspired by the ESPY Awards, at the intersection of sports and real life)
The character assasination of Jay Cutler reveals how public perception is fueled by appearances. Be careful you don't blink, stutter, or have a bad hair day because people will size you up in an instant, disgruntled Bears fans being just one segment of the population. (Inspired by the NFL playoffs, at the Intersection of Sports and Real Life
Now I have something in common with stalwart WR Randy Moss and it's not a big mouth or 4.2 speed. After being traded to the Vikings and later to the Titans, Moss still talks about his years in New England as if they were his best. And who knows, maybe the Patriots also miss that guy who could break open a game with one big play down the field. ( Inspired by #84, at the intersection of sports and real life)
On the eve following Andre Dawson's Hall of Fame induction speech, allow me to reverberate his scintillating words: "If you love the game of baseball, the game will love you back." Now in a world where such is seldom the case, sometimes the only way to make it through is by playing catch, putting on a uniform, or like ...me, going the distance. ( Inspired by Cooperstown 2010, at the intersection of sports and real life)
There are legends and all-time greats in every sport. And then there's Derek Jeter. Ony a demi-god could date Jessica Alba AND Jessica Biel, collect over 3,000 career hits, and still retain such poise and humility. Screw running! I want to wear #2, play shortstop for the New York Yankees, make $20 milion dollars a year, and go to work everyday to this introduction by Bob Sheppard and the crowd's ovation.
There are some things in life we just can't come to terms with. Maybe because we refuse to make peace with it or maybe for lack of an ultimate justification. We may submit ourselves to treatment, it may go into remission, but the heart is all but healed. Coach George Karl below knows exactly what I'm talking about. (In...spired by personal misfortune, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Ashley Judd, in describing her husband as a "gentleman racer" had this to say about Dario Franchitti: "I know I always have a parking spot reserved for me in his heart." Very well, then, but how about we make that an all-access permit with exclusive priviledges for the women we love. (Inspired by the Indianapolis 500, at the intersection of sports and real life.)
How many climbs will it take to break you? How many surges will you counter-attack? Go for broke, gamble, bid for glory on that weary summit, lest you should find yourself cracked and half-beaten, lacking in both strength and fortitude. Let us ride, then, with the courage of men with strained faces who will live to lov...e another day. (Inspired by the Tour de France, at the intersection of sports and real life)
I was going to criticize Lebron's tweet - Now or Never - before realizing that a similar ultimatum - This or Nothing - has been endorsed by me. We mean what we say in the sincerest of ways, every ounce of its raw, unfiltered emotion. Play hard or go home. Love passionately or renounce and fold. (Inspired by the heart of a champion, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Quite often, life’s anticipated moment comes not during regulation, but after 90 minutes of heartbreakingly close calls, near misses, and a war of attrition. Prepare for overtime with bated breath and saddled loins, because the difference between winning it all or losing what matters most is far from a bygone conclusio...n. (Inspired by the World Cup, at the intersection of sports and real life)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Musings of the Swift-Footed Poet
"If anyone should ask why, of all trades or occupations, did I choose philosophy, there is but one reply – to better understand why our tortured lot of humanity is made to suffer – and over the years my hunch has changed from one of injustice to one of desert. Running is an anesthetic to these incongruities but more oft...en than not, if performed in a vacuum, an exacerbating factor."
"Today I celebrated a run, the last of its kind, until quite some time. A 4.5 mile loop, really just around the block, but for me, the world. Sunkissed by an effervescent glow through leafy branches, saying hello to my good boy German Shephard, and collecting peace like miles reward on this green boulevard."
"Like a phoenix from the ashes, I have risen, from the depths have I emerged. Now, the canyons are dark, and the trails are lovely, sun-baked, and deep, but I've got miles to run and promises to keep."
"As certain races get closer, there's always this feeling, this fear, that maybe it's not everything we crack it up to be. I ask, is this it, is this what I've become? And usually, if I'm being honest with myself, the truth is that I've just gotten really good at passing time."
"Allow yourself to dream, for even if you can't be one of them, as this philosopher will tell you, the spirit of running has no official proprietor. The act itself is participation in an art form whose essence touches us all."
"To thee I offer up this elegy, amidst the trials my body now endures. For years have I sojourned to that fateful site, when on the 15th of April, 2004, victory was first achieved, eclipsing, if you will, a virgin streak. A lot has changed in six years hence, but in many ways I'm still that rabid, zealous runner bidding for the lead on old Bayshore Drive. In sleep have I pictured those glory days of yonder, in training have I paid dues to its bittersweet nostalgia. Sure enough, come this Thursday the course will be decked out in its race-day best and mine the lot to envy.Twice defending champion and now broken by a wayward knee, I'll be thinking of thee, as an absentee, but somewhere down the road, behind the motorcade, on a warm, crisp spring day, the prize will I reclaim."
"We all have our reasons, you know. As youngsters, we'd embark on a furious pace and throw caution to the wind, making our bed on the inside of lane one. But at some point the main hunt becomes more important than chasing the runaway rabbit, and the sun begins to rise in a not-so-Neverland. Older is better, I say, especially when you're traveling through greener pastures."
"You triumph over the adversity, that's what running is all about, and therefore you know there isn't anything in life you can't triumph over after that." K. Switzer
"Today I celebrated a run, the last of its kind, until quite some time. A 4.5 mile loop, really just around the block, but for me, the world. Sunkissed by an effervescent glow through leafy branches, saying hello to my good boy German Shephard, and collecting peace like miles reward on this green boulevard."
"Like a phoenix from the ashes, I have risen, from the depths have I emerged. Now, the canyons are dark, and the trails are lovely, sun-baked, and deep, but I've got miles to run and promises to keep."
"As certain races get closer, there's always this feeling, this fear, that maybe it's not everything we crack it up to be. I ask, is this it, is this what I've become? And usually, if I'm being honest with myself, the truth is that I've just gotten really good at passing time."
"Allow yourself to dream, for even if you can't be one of them, as this philosopher will tell you, the spirit of running has no official proprietor. The act itself is participation in an art form whose essence touches us all."
"To thee I offer up this elegy, amidst the trials my body now endures. For years have I sojourned to that fateful site, when on the 15th of April, 2004, victory was first achieved, eclipsing, if you will, a virgin streak. A lot has changed in six years hence, but in many ways I'm still that rabid, zealous runner bidding for the lead on old Bayshore Drive. In sleep have I pictured those glory days of yonder, in training have I paid dues to its bittersweet nostalgia. Sure enough, come this Thursday the course will be decked out in its race-day best and mine the lot to envy.Twice defending champion and now broken by a wayward knee, I'll be thinking of thee, as an absentee, but somewhere down the road, behind the motorcade, on a warm, crisp spring day, the prize will I reclaim."
"We all have our reasons, you know. As youngsters, we'd embark on a furious pace and throw caution to the wind, making our bed on the inside of lane one. But at some point the main hunt becomes more important than chasing the runaway rabbit, and the sun begins to rise in a not-so-Neverland. Older is better, I say, especially when you're traveling through greener pastures."
"You triumph over the adversity, that's what running is all about, and therefore you know there isn't anything in life you can't triumph over after that." K. Switzer
Monday, June 21, 2010
Never Faster than the Speed of Love
Love RUNS Deep
- Confessions of the love-struck runner
"He keeps telling himself that there's still wind in his sails, an aid station up ahead, and that winning, as in sports, will solve everything. But who's he kidding? I remember the days of rushing home from work on a Friday afternoon. Of thinking what my next surprise would be and smiling myself to sleep. This man in lo...ve is still alive and ten times greater than the man who runs."
"You can try to outrun the sun, go out on one limb, or rise defiantly after every tumble, and they'll call you a champ. But use that same stupid heroism in the name of eros and you got another thing coming. As a theologian, I should know better: "It is not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord." (Zechariah 4:6)
"I don't let myself forget how lucky I am. I get to chase a dream that invigorates me 24/7, that gives me goosebumps on weekends like this when you're so close, you can taste it. I get to put on my shoes and do what I love everyday. I get to train with good friends and race in front of thousands. And best of all, I get ...to love someone in the purest of ways, bullet to the chest, and feel loved in return."
"If life was a parade and you its star performer, I’d be that guy who, like an eager park visitor, reserves his seat in the front row and rolls out the red carpet, tossing petals as you stroll on by. All the while, thinking, lucky me to have called you mine. And so the story's told, that every day he sits on that same o...ld stretch of road, loving her THANKFULLY, until the day he can do so even more perfectly."
"In my sleep, we walked together...in my dreams, we sat and talked. It's one thing to never have seen Giza or stepped inside Europe's sacred cathedrals, but when you've been with the eighth, ninth, tenth...wonder of the world, that's when waking up just plain sucks because nothing will ever compare."
"I'm like a man who sees a door, even the writing on the wall, and stays locked like a sprinter left dead in the blocks. For how does one flee from destiny, and if not fate, then surely did I crown it thusly. Maybe I'm a coward for not stepping out into the light. Maybe I'm selfish for wanting such and such. No, I know, it's that I love her too much."
"It feels like everyone else is playing AAA, minor leaguers next to you, a big-time pro. Like Lebron on a mismatch or a perennial favorite versus a weak field, you stand so head and shoulders above the rest that there's no contest. You are a perfect ten, so beautiful it hurts, and so out of reach that I die a little more each day."
"On January 30 I’ll beat around 19,990 runners to the finish line in Downtown Miami, and yet there’s one, most elusive and desirable, that got away. I keep thinking that if I make a champion of myself I’ll reel you in, but I’m not a hero and would die to finish first . It doesn’t matter what happens on Sunday because I lost the race the moment you called off the chase. I run harder now just to flee the pain. To my girl, breathless and weary, I love thee still."
"It wasn't just the burrito or the fact that it's been months since I've indulged my palate that freely. It was the table for two in the corner, thoughts of you, thoughts of me, dipping our chips in salsa and guacamole. We would plan our day, our lives, whole moons would pass by, and soon Chipotle became a symbol for all time. One love, for here, not to go."
Most one-hit wonders become rich and famous overnight, only later to have their value drop out of sight. But you, my one-hit wonder, my fixed and brightest star, retain the highest ratings on a scale from one to thou. For after you there is no sequel in my heart, only a number that plays on as the undisputed #1 on the charts.
"Maybe the problem is that I don't know how to quit. See, I come from a land of 20mph headwinds and soft, ankle-deep sand. Where oxygen debt makes you stronger and dropping out is fuax pas. So how can I throw in the towel and accept defeat when suffering through bad patches under extreme heat is my peculiar specialty? (Inspired by seagulls and remnant thoughts of thee)
You know that feeling when someone strikes a match in a dark lit room, or beauty causes you to do a double take? All of a sudden I was like, "run, what run?" and all my questions about life and her were succinctly answered. It was as if God himself walked, spoke, and addressed me in person. Such is the power, such is t...he magnificence, of her standing in my presence.
Notice that nobody ever walks away from something you can't replace. Lost causes are abandoned and painful trips cursed, but the the real deal...the holy grail...it compels you, moves you, resucitates you. It moves the finish line closer and throws a tailwind at your back. You want to drop out, but dammit, you're in the lead and losing first, the best that ever was, is of all tragedies the worst.
"On this note I depart: One year later, under a different set of circumstances, the magic is in believing that if I somehow keep burrowing ahead in my crazed, delusional sort of way, that I’ll eventually run into some good fortune and recapture a happy thought or two. Having her by my side only increases that aura of invincibility, win or lose."
I can now safely cross out another item off my bucket list. To combat dehydration on the run, I've gulped down water from beach showers, front lawn sprinklers, and today, for the first time, like a dog face first, from an underground pothole. Now if only I can find a well to quench my soul's thirst.
Brer Rabbit, of Splash Mountain fame, once said: "You can't run away from your troubles, ain't no place that far." Funny, though, because I've never clung to any such illusion. I run "un-abaited to get-you-back" ( timely football reference ) since the only race that matters is the one returning to our designated laughi...ng place, somewhere between overhanging cliffs, knapsacks, and our old cottage shack.
"AhI me dejE caer, en esa nube de fatiga. Desorientado, temaba que en mi prisa te habIa abandonado. Pero de pronto sentI una brisa que me fue llevando hacia ti, y desde entonces no paro de persistir si es que en la distancia ya te vi." (letras mayUsculas llevan acento)
"Cuando me pregunten que hice este verano, dire emocionadamente que viaje a distintos continentes. Uno repleno con jardines de flores, musica de tambores, y tu bendita residencia. El otro despoblado y marcado por tu ausencia. Por lo tanto me quedo cuidadano de la primera."
"The track calls, it beckons me by name, and I respond. Around the bend and up the straight, the body into symphony breaks. The mind races, roaring with excitement, and the heart erupts, teeming with the lover's passion. My soul fixed steadfastly on thee."
"There are world-class times, like the 18:12 I ran today for 5K (tongue in cheek), and then there are solar-eclipsing "times", like those I spend with you."
"What if I told you I'm still on fresh legs? What if I told you that speed is my old friend? And what if I told you that the rest of the best lies just around the bend, with you and me coming out on the winning end." (Inspired by ESPN's 30 for 30 series)
"I want to ride the wind on a spring breeze, turn the corner and always see you there. I want to go faster and further than I've ever gone before, starting and finishing right outside your front door. I want to pump my arms in victory and falling into your arms, say, "you're the only one for me."I want to catch my breath over the long haul, and lose it every time I see you pass by. I want to break the tape and remain unbroken in my devotion to you, as unwavering as the seconds that tick by with precision."
"Maybe I keep running because someday I'll come over the crest of that hill, reach the other side of the rainbow, and find that everything I've ever loved has come to stay in perfect, uninterrupted, and unblemished form."
"Men's Overall CHAMPION of the final edition race - Tower of Terror 13K. A day which seemingly materialized from a long line of miles, trials, and even the best of times. Run with your heart near your ankles and love will see you through."
"Imagine me, and the shock waves I must be feeling, when the regular and preferred course of training is during the midday solar crunch. But despite the disarray, I am not deterred. For you I'll build snow angels on the turf and pick winter evergreens en route for your treasured keepsake."
"For every outward movement, ideally speaking, a return investment is forthcoming. As thou drawest near, I draw still nigher unto thee, unfettered, for complementary are we. In every way, plus one, it is you completing me."
"Lord, make me swift and agile for the task at hand, in gliding over tis' wondrous land. Remembering days of glory past, I sequel to a storybook place, notwithstanding time or pace."
"We all have our reasons, you know. As youngsters, we'd embark on a furious pace and throw caution to the wind, making our bed on the inside of lane one. But at some point the main hunt becomes more important than chasing the runaway rabbit, and the sun begins to rise in a not-so-Neverland. Older is better, I say, especially when you've come here to stay."
"Three things I can't live without: Your garden-variety barnburner of a 5K, a sporting interest, and a love that's divine, in ascending order. Compliments to the Server upstairs for the gift of that irreplaceable one."
"As I stood there, long after the hype had lived up to its billing, in reverence over a finish line that now lay abandoned, this song was heard playing over the soothing night air, and all I could think of was how much I cherished a life of second chances. I might have just as easily been forced to sit this out...I might have just as easily missed out on loving you."
"Coming off a sweet ride, of prayers unforsaken, and perspective weighs in, sending me into a lovely tailspin. Because there's never been a mile to keep me from getting to you."
"It was a podium finish and my girl was there to glorify the bronze with her heart of gold."
"Whether tis nobler, nay, more prudent, to suffer in the unperturbed solitary shades or take upon another whose blade cuts deep and is yet, oh so bittersweet. Therein lies the question, in my best Shakespearean imitation."
"I'd wander breathless through the last desert on Earth just to see you, hear you, and feel you against my skin. The sandy dunes of lost time would soon become an ocean-view paradise."
"This year I’ll be home for Christmas, pretending that 2010 is just the new 2009. The tree is where we left it, the gifts are all I have to give. Because I’m dreaming of a you-and-me Christmas, waking up to find that what I couldn’t, still can’t, but hope to offer you someday, is checked off Santa’s list, dispatched from the workshop, stewing in the kitchen, and well on its way."
The only times I've come dangerously close to breaking the Decalogue's first commandment have been when you are in near proximity. During this season of celebrating the divine incarnate and adoring the baby Jesus, what better time to say, I love you babe, beauty descended and in the flesh.
Like Eugene, I also have a thing for brunettes. This one in particular has me all “Tangled” up, without whom life is a tower-dwelling, light-escaping, hair-pulling fiasco. I’ll be that runaway thief who comes up with an unexpected catch like you, even if it’s all just a fairy tale, even if it’s all just in my head........HAPPY BIRTHDAY!I really miss my best friend. No one says it better than the artist Marco Antonio Solis:“Voy a hacer de cuenta que nunca te fuiste, que has ido de viaje y nada más. Quiero que mi ausencia,sean las grandes alas, con las que tú puedas emprender ese vuelo largo, de tantas escalas...y encontrar yo mi modo de continuar.” I see myself as the spoon that tried to be part of a beautifully matching set. The sweeteners in my life just happen to be the ones inside your kettle. Don’t be mad at me. I understand your code of silence and only did this because June 3 comes just once a year, similar to how a girl like you comes around only once a lifetime.
If life was a parade and you its star performer, I’d be that guy who, like an eager park visitor, reserves his seat in the front row and rolls out the red carpet, tossing petals as you stroll on by. All the while, thinking, lucky me to have called you mine. And so the story's told, that every day he sits on that same old stretch of road, loving her THANKFULLY, until the day he can do so even more perfectly.
If I were to walk away prematurely like a man with little patience and frivolous attachment, the guilt would last a lifetime. But that is not the case. I have taken a heroic stance and raised a glass of good will, for which even the most well-cultivated faith demands a bit of sanctuary. Which is why I've never been so afraid of quitting and yet so reluctant to keep going down this path.
- Confessions of the love-struck runner
"He keeps telling himself that there's still wind in his sails, an aid station up ahead, and that winning, as in sports, will solve everything. But who's he kidding? I remember the days of rushing home from work on a Friday afternoon. Of thinking what my next surprise would be and smiling myself to sleep. This man in lo...ve is still alive and ten times greater than the man who runs."
"You can try to outrun the sun, go out on one limb, or rise defiantly after every tumble, and they'll call you a champ. But use that same stupid heroism in the name of eros and you got another thing coming. As a theologian, I should know better: "It is not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord." (Zechariah 4:6)
"I don't let myself forget how lucky I am. I get to chase a dream that invigorates me 24/7, that gives me goosebumps on weekends like this when you're so close, you can taste it. I get to put on my shoes and do what I love everyday. I get to train with good friends and race in front of thousands. And best of all, I get ...to love someone in the purest of ways, bullet to the chest, and feel loved in return."
"If life was a parade and you its star performer, I’d be that guy who, like an eager park visitor, reserves his seat in the front row and rolls out the red carpet, tossing petals as you stroll on by. All the while, thinking, lucky me to have called you mine. And so the story's told, that every day he sits on that same o...ld stretch of road, loving her THANKFULLY, until the day he can do so even more perfectly."
"In my sleep, we walked together...in my dreams, we sat and talked. It's one thing to never have seen Giza or stepped inside Europe's sacred cathedrals, but when you've been with the eighth, ninth, tenth...wonder of the world, that's when waking up just plain sucks because nothing will ever compare."
"I'm like a man who sees a door, even the writing on the wall, and stays locked like a sprinter left dead in the blocks. For how does one flee from destiny, and if not fate, then surely did I crown it thusly. Maybe I'm a coward for not stepping out into the light. Maybe I'm selfish for wanting such and such. No, I know, it's that I love her too much."
"It feels like everyone else is playing AAA, minor leaguers next to you, a big-time pro. Like Lebron on a mismatch or a perennial favorite versus a weak field, you stand so head and shoulders above the rest that there's no contest. You are a perfect ten, so beautiful it hurts, and so out of reach that I die a little more each day."
"On January 30 I’ll beat around 19,990 runners to the finish line in Downtown Miami, and yet there’s one, most elusive and desirable, that got away. I keep thinking that if I make a champion of myself I’ll reel you in, but I’m not a hero and would die to finish first . It doesn’t matter what happens on Sunday because I lost the race the moment you called off the chase. I run harder now just to flee the pain. To my girl, breathless and weary, I love thee still."
"It wasn't just the burrito or the fact that it's been months since I've indulged my palate that freely. It was the table for two in the corner, thoughts of you, thoughts of me, dipping our chips in salsa and guacamole. We would plan our day, our lives, whole moons would pass by, and soon Chipotle became a symbol for all time. One love, for here, not to go."
Most one-hit wonders become rich and famous overnight, only later to have their value drop out of sight. But you, my one-hit wonder, my fixed and brightest star, retain the highest ratings on a scale from one to thou. For after you there is no sequel in my heart, only a number that plays on as the undisputed #1 on the charts.
"Maybe the problem is that I don't know how to quit. See, I come from a land of 20mph headwinds and soft, ankle-deep sand. Where oxygen debt makes you stronger and dropping out is fuax pas. So how can I throw in the towel and accept defeat when suffering through bad patches under extreme heat is my peculiar specialty? (Inspired by seagulls and remnant thoughts of thee)
You know that feeling when someone strikes a match in a dark lit room, or beauty causes you to do a double take? All of a sudden I was like, "run, what run?" and all my questions about life and her were succinctly answered. It was as if God himself walked, spoke, and addressed me in person. Such is the power, such is t...he magnificence, of her standing in my presence.
Notice that nobody ever walks away from something you can't replace. Lost causes are abandoned and painful trips cursed, but the the real deal...the holy grail...it compels you, moves you, resucitates you. It moves the finish line closer and throws a tailwind at your back. You want to drop out, but dammit, you're in the lead and losing first, the best that ever was, is of all tragedies the worst.
"On this note I depart: One year later, under a different set of circumstances, the magic is in believing that if I somehow keep burrowing ahead in my crazed, delusional sort of way, that I’ll eventually run into some good fortune and recapture a happy thought or two. Having her by my side only increases that aura of invincibility, win or lose."
I can now safely cross out another item off my bucket list. To combat dehydration on the run, I've gulped down water from beach showers, front lawn sprinklers, and today, for the first time, like a dog face first, from an underground pothole. Now if only I can find a well to quench my soul's thirst.
Brer Rabbit, of Splash Mountain fame, once said: "You can't run away from your troubles, ain't no place that far." Funny, though, because I've never clung to any such illusion. I run "un-abaited to get-you-back" ( timely football reference ) since the only race that matters is the one returning to our designated laughi...ng place, somewhere between overhanging cliffs, knapsacks, and our old cottage shack.
"AhI me dejE caer, en esa nube de fatiga. Desorientado, temaba que en mi prisa te habIa abandonado. Pero de pronto sentI una brisa que me fue llevando hacia ti, y desde entonces no paro de persistir si es que en la distancia ya te vi." (letras mayUsculas llevan acento)
"Cuando me pregunten que hice este verano, dire emocionadamente que viaje a distintos continentes. Uno repleno con jardines de flores, musica de tambores, y tu bendita residencia. El otro despoblado y marcado por tu ausencia. Por lo tanto me quedo cuidadano de la primera."
"The track calls, it beckons me by name, and I respond. Around the bend and up the straight, the body into symphony breaks. The mind races, roaring with excitement, and the heart erupts, teeming with the lover's passion. My soul fixed steadfastly on thee."
"There are world-class times, like the 18:12 I ran today for 5K (tongue in cheek), and then there are solar-eclipsing "times", like those I spend with you."
"What if I told you I'm still on fresh legs? What if I told you that speed is my old friend? And what if I told you that the rest of the best lies just around the bend, with you and me coming out on the winning end." (Inspired by ESPN's 30 for 30 series)
"I want to ride the wind on a spring breeze, turn the corner and always see you there. I want to go faster and further than I've ever gone before, starting and finishing right outside your front door. I want to pump my arms in victory and falling into your arms, say, "you're the only one for me."I want to catch my breath over the long haul, and lose it every time I see you pass by. I want to break the tape and remain unbroken in my devotion to you, as unwavering as the seconds that tick by with precision."
"Maybe I keep running because someday I'll come over the crest of that hill, reach the other side of the rainbow, and find that everything I've ever loved has come to stay in perfect, uninterrupted, and unblemished form."
"Men's Overall CHAMPION of the final edition race - Tower of Terror 13K. A day which seemingly materialized from a long line of miles, trials, and even the best of times. Run with your heart near your ankles and love will see you through."
"Imagine me, and the shock waves I must be feeling, when the regular and preferred course of training is during the midday solar crunch. But despite the disarray, I am not deterred. For you I'll build snow angels on the turf and pick winter evergreens en route for your treasured keepsake."
"For every outward movement, ideally speaking, a return investment is forthcoming. As thou drawest near, I draw still nigher unto thee, unfettered, for complementary are we. In every way, plus one, it is you completing me."
"Lord, make me swift and agile for the task at hand, in gliding over tis' wondrous land. Remembering days of glory past, I sequel to a storybook place, notwithstanding time or pace."
"We all have our reasons, you know. As youngsters, we'd embark on a furious pace and throw caution to the wind, making our bed on the inside of lane one. But at some point the main hunt becomes more important than chasing the runaway rabbit, and the sun begins to rise in a not-so-Neverland. Older is better, I say, especially when you've come here to stay."
"Three things I can't live without: Your garden-variety barnburner of a 5K, a sporting interest, and a love that's divine, in ascending order. Compliments to the Server upstairs for the gift of that irreplaceable one."
"As I stood there, long after the hype had lived up to its billing, in reverence over a finish line that now lay abandoned, this song was heard playing over the soothing night air, and all I could think of was how much I cherished a life of second chances. I might have just as easily been forced to sit this out...I might have just as easily missed out on loving you."
"Coming off a sweet ride, of prayers unforsaken, and perspective weighs in, sending me into a lovely tailspin. Because there's never been a mile to keep me from getting to you."
"It was a podium finish and my girl was there to glorify the bronze with her heart of gold."
"Whether tis nobler, nay, more prudent, to suffer in the unperturbed solitary shades or take upon another whose blade cuts deep and is yet, oh so bittersweet. Therein lies the question, in my best Shakespearean imitation."
"I'd wander breathless through the last desert on Earth just to see you, hear you, and feel you against my skin. The sandy dunes of lost time would soon become an ocean-view paradise."
"This year I’ll be home for Christmas, pretending that 2010 is just the new 2009. The tree is where we left it, the gifts are all I have to give. Because I’m dreaming of a you-and-me Christmas, waking up to find that what I couldn’t, still can’t, but hope to offer you someday, is checked off Santa’s list, dispatched from the workshop, stewing in the kitchen, and well on its way."
The only times I've come dangerously close to breaking the Decalogue's first commandment have been when you are in near proximity. During this season of celebrating the divine incarnate and adoring the baby Jesus, what better time to say, I love you babe, beauty descended and in the flesh.
Like Eugene, I also have a thing for brunettes. This one in particular has me all “Tangled” up, without whom life is a tower-dwelling, light-escaping, hair-pulling fiasco. I’ll be that runaway thief who comes up with an unexpected catch like you, even if it’s all just a fairy tale, even if it’s all just in my head........HAPPY BIRTHDAY!I really miss my best friend. No one says it better than the artist Marco Antonio Solis:“Voy a hacer de cuenta que nunca te fuiste, que has ido de viaje y nada más. Quiero que mi ausencia,sean las grandes alas, con las que tú puedas emprender ese vuelo largo, de tantas escalas...y encontrar yo mi modo de continuar.” I see myself as the spoon that tried to be part of a beautifully matching set. The sweeteners in my life just happen to be the ones inside your kettle. Don’t be mad at me. I understand your code of silence and only did this because June 3 comes just once a year, similar to how a girl like you comes around only once a lifetime.
If life was a parade and you its star performer, I’d be that guy who, like an eager park visitor, reserves his seat in the front row and rolls out the red carpet, tossing petals as you stroll on by. All the while, thinking, lucky me to have called you mine. And so the story's told, that every day he sits on that same old stretch of road, loving her THANKFULLY, until the day he can do so even more perfectly.
If I were to walk away prematurely like a man with little patience and frivolous attachment, the guilt would last a lifetime. But that is not the case. I have taken a heroic stance and raised a glass of good will, for which even the most well-cultivated faith demands a bit of sanctuary. Which is why I've never been so afraid of quitting and yet so reluctant to keep going down this path.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Fulfill your Running Potential
Run like an animal.
It’s a slogan, injected into popular running jargon by Pearl Izumi, which calls for careful unpacking. Perhaps the cavemen from those witty Geico commercials would be the first to object. But a deeper inspection may come to reveal why so many others actually swear by its living credo.
So what are we to make of this unconventional, old school, yet mostly revered mentality? Does running, by nature, entail sacrifice, pain, and a side order of pure guts? And if indeed we can agree that our paradigm is a noble one, how many modern-day plodders take seriously what Pheidippides took with him to the grave?
The point was driven home to me not too long ago on one of those casual encounters during a family barbecue. As the conversation somehow drifted towards weight loss, I posited that despite a lean runner’s frame, I could still benefit from being 15 pounds lighter. Instantly, it was as if the weirdo detection system was turned on inside the room as my non-runner friends surveyed me from head to toe in disbelief: “If you get any skinnier you’ll be anorexic,” one of them clamored. “Plus, runners are like pathetic little twigs, one push and they come tumbling down.” Now, of course, I wasn’t about to explain what raw athleticism lay disguised behind our deceptively frail outlines, nor could I hope to transmit the glorious sensation of beating thousands of eager runners to a coveted finish line tape. So, instead, it festers now as food for thought.
Needless to say, our sport is vastly misunderstood by the general public. But more recently, the hoards of newbies lacing up a pair of running shoes are falling dangerously off the mark as well. We are living, and running, during an age of mass participation in our sport. Despite a sagging economy, road race registration is showing no signs of decay. The number of people taking to the streets, including first-timers, is at an all-time high, reminiscent of the 1970’s fitness boom. As an outdoor enthusiast and strong advocate of cardiovascular health, the situation seems to me to be entirely fortuitous. After all, an active lifestyle can only help to reverse our current obesity epidemic, and may even provide an over-worked, over-stressed, generation with a positive and cathartic outlet for physical rejuvenation and social enrichment.
The unfortunate casualty in this great uproar of enthusiasm is the increasing acceptance of mediocre standards. Races, especially big city marathons where quantity trumps quality, have become more like rolling parades of block party runners. The caravan of Gallo walkers stretches impressively far back, with many an expeditionary expecting to cross the finish line in 5 hours plus. We’ve come a long way from the early 20th century when these same races were viewed as freak shows for eccentric types running a bit too fast for their own good.
To minimize the risk of being misinterpreted and labeled an elitist prick, allow me to make a few rational disclaimers. Running, pure and simple, is what we’re all born to do. McDougal, in his best-selling book “Born to Run” avowed just as much, hitting the nail right on its head. The fact that our bodies were engineered to run, going back to our most primitive ancestors, makes genetic and perhaps even intuitive sense. There’s something quite natural about the bandwagon phenomenon being perceived in our ranks, and God forbid I should say or do anything to discourage that magnificent trend. Let it ring from Mt. Sac to the Potomac that our sport is one “of the people” in the everyman, plebeian sense of the phrase.
But every once in a while, the guardians of sacred tradition must sound the trumpet call and motion us back to authenticity. Like prophets, our goal is to cure the deprivation of untapped potential, which has many a runner forfeiting the single greatest prize our craft provides. But what should the standard be? Olympic gold? Some arbitrary, universal benchmark, like the minutes and seconds on a stopwatch? Certainly not. The mark of excellence has more to do with a frame of mind than any measurable set of observations.
Run like an animal.
It means leaving everything out on the race course. Giving nothing less than your best. Striving, with maximal exertion, to beat your opponent or improve upon a previous condition. In other words, don’t be afraid to break a sweat, go for broke, or dig deep. That’s how you arrive at a truly rewarding and breakthrough performance in the first place. Best of all, you might even learn something valuable about yourself and what you never thought possible.
One of the things that attracted me as a young man in my late teens to the world of distance running was the sheer honesty of its output. I became part of a cultural legacy that our forefathers created with their own blood, sweat, and tears. Frank Shorter once responded to a reporter that the reason he ran so hard was because running fast was much more fun than running slow. Steve Prefontaine, the tragic hero of three decades ago and pioneer of this diehard, take no prisoners, sort of attitude once said: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.” Heck, even a non-runner in the likes of poet and philosopher Ralf Waldo Emerson chimes in concurringly: “The only thing that matters is the integrity of our own minds.”
Granted, the path to self-transcendence is not for the timid of heart. And since none of us is likely aiming for smallness of spirit, we would do well to partake, and furthermore, to partake well. Contrary to the media’s bias, the lead pack is not where it’s at, for in every race there’s a contest within a contest, invested with just as much soul-piercing drama.
So my fellow American runners, ask not what running can do for you, ask what you can bring to the startling line.
Or else, we’ll have to stop calling ourselves weekend warriors and be forced to adopt the much less flattering title of weekend push-overs.
It’s a slogan, injected into popular running jargon by Pearl Izumi, which calls for careful unpacking. Perhaps the cavemen from those witty Geico commercials would be the first to object. But a deeper inspection may come to reveal why so many others actually swear by its living credo.
So what are we to make of this unconventional, old school, yet mostly revered mentality? Does running, by nature, entail sacrifice, pain, and a side order of pure guts? And if indeed we can agree that our paradigm is a noble one, how many modern-day plodders take seriously what Pheidippides took with him to the grave?
The point was driven home to me not too long ago on one of those casual encounters during a family barbecue. As the conversation somehow drifted towards weight loss, I posited that despite a lean runner’s frame, I could still benefit from being 15 pounds lighter. Instantly, it was as if the weirdo detection system was turned on inside the room as my non-runner friends surveyed me from head to toe in disbelief: “If you get any skinnier you’ll be anorexic,” one of them clamored. “Plus, runners are like pathetic little twigs, one push and they come tumbling down.” Now, of course, I wasn’t about to explain what raw athleticism lay disguised behind our deceptively frail outlines, nor could I hope to transmit the glorious sensation of beating thousands of eager runners to a coveted finish line tape. So, instead, it festers now as food for thought.
Needless to say, our sport is vastly misunderstood by the general public. But more recently, the hoards of newbies lacing up a pair of running shoes are falling dangerously off the mark as well. We are living, and running, during an age of mass participation in our sport. Despite a sagging economy, road race registration is showing no signs of decay. The number of people taking to the streets, including first-timers, is at an all-time high, reminiscent of the 1970’s fitness boom. As an outdoor enthusiast and strong advocate of cardiovascular health, the situation seems to me to be entirely fortuitous. After all, an active lifestyle can only help to reverse our current obesity epidemic, and may even provide an over-worked, over-stressed, generation with a positive and cathartic outlet for physical rejuvenation and social enrichment.
The unfortunate casualty in this great uproar of enthusiasm is the increasing acceptance of mediocre standards. Races, especially big city marathons where quantity trumps quality, have become more like rolling parades of block party runners. The caravan of Gallo walkers stretches impressively far back, with many an expeditionary expecting to cross the finish line in 5 hours plus. We’ve come a long way from the early 20th century when these same races were viewed as freak shows for eccentric types running a bit too fast for their own good.
To minimize the risk of being misinterpreted and labeled an elitist prick, allow me to make a few rational disclaimers. Running, pure and simple, is what we’re all born to do. McDougal, in his best-selling book “Born to Run” avowed just as much, hitting the nail right on its head. The fact that our bodies were engineered to run, going back to our most primitive ancestors, makes genetic and perhaps even intuitive sense. There’s something quite natural about the bandwagon phenomenon being perceived in our ranks, and God forbid I should say or do anything to discourage that magnificent trend. Let it ring from Mt. Sac to the Potomac that our sport is one “of the people” in the everyman, plebeian sense of the phrase.
But every once in a while, the guardians of sacred tradition must sound the trumpet call and motion us back to authenticity. Like prophets, our goal is to cure the deprivation of untapped potential, which has many a runner forfeiting the single greatest prize our craft provides. But what should the standard be? Olympic gold? Some arbitrary, universal benchmark, like the minutes and seconds on a stopwatch? Certainly not. The mark of excellence has more to do with a frame of mind than any measurable set of observations.
Run like an animal.
It means leaving everything out on the race course. Giving nothing less than your best. Striving, with maximal exertion, to beat your opponent or improve upon a previous condition. In other words, don’t be afraid to break a sweat, go for broke, or dig deep. That’s how you arrive at a truly rewarding and breakthrough performance in the first place. Best of all, you might even learn something valuable about yourself and what you never thought possible.
One of the things that attracted me as a young man in my late teens to the world of distance running was the sheer honesty of its output. I became part of a cultural legacy that our forefathers created with their own blood, sweat, and tears. Frank Shorter once responded to a reporter that the reason he ran so hard was because running fast was much more fun than running slow. Steve Prefontaine, the tragic hero of three decades ago and pioneer of this diehard, take no prisoners, sort of attitude once said: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.” Heck, even a non-runner in the likes of poet and philosopher Ralf Waldo Emerson chimes in concurringly: “The only thing that matters is the integrity of our own minds.”
Granted, the path to self-transcendence is not for the timid of heart. And since none of us is likely aiming for smallness of spirit, we would do well to partake, and furthermore, to partake well. Contrary to the media’s bias, the lead pack is not where it’s at, for in every race there’s a contest within a contest, invested with just as much soul-piercing drama.
So my fellow American runners, ask not what running can do for you, ask what you can bring to the startling line.
Or else, we’ll have to stop calling ourselves weekend warriors and be forced to adopt the much less flattering title of weekend push-overs.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Coming Back to Yourself
It was the 2007 ING Miami Half-Marathon and the start of something new, or so I hoped. “I’ve run enough miles in my day to know that the answers just aren’t out here,” I said to the girl running next to me as we turned side-by-side onto decked out Ocean Drive. “Running, for me, has lost its meaning.”
Just two years earlier my name could have been featured in the “who’s-who” of South Florida running. The local 5K’s were my legitimate stomping grounds and I had the race times to back it up, too. I took pride in my craft, the same way a working professional might soak in the well-deserved respect of his/her colleagues. Running was the vehicle through which I proved to myself and others that I was worth more than the average Joe. If I won enough races, I thought, and became truly invincible, then the pursuit of excellence would have been well worth all the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get me there. Then it started happening. All of a sudden, I was the guy with the bull’s-eye on his back, the one everybody looks at as though he had a touch of the supernatural.
Amidst this unprecedented rise in the ranks, I got blindsided with a competing interest that made me re-assess my true priorities. It questioned my loyalties, confronted me with all the big questions, and forced me to grow up in more ways than one. The emptiness I had felt throughout my previous campaigning for greatness was now being replaced by a fulfilled sense of purpose. All indications were that I was headed in the right direction, leaving behind a selfish quest in favor of a higher cause. The person I had been before, or at least the habits and routines which I had grown accustomed to, were being relegated to an article of distant memory. I was convinced, and still am, that this was a major step in my maturation as a more complete and balanced individual, but I still had one more lesson to learn.
So here I was, after a leave of absence and in depreciated form, taking a crash course on humility and the plight of the average runner. I couldn’t be sure if that nauseous feeling pervading my system was reactive disgust at my sluggish pace or if indeed, I was on the border of metabolic breakdown. The first four miles alongside Miami’s beautiful cruise ships were supposed to be an appetizer, only this time the distance felt like a full course meal. My competitive personality, however, would not allow me to shift down gears even if my motors were letting out some serious exhaust fumes. Somewhere around mile 10, my partner turned to me and said, “Hey, don’t hold yourself back for me” but the truth was I had nothing left and the trudge was underway.
During my recent hiatus, I had, as St. Augustine once famously asserted, “become a vast problem unto myself.” The consequences of my desertion led to an estrangement from friends I once considered to be brothers-at-arms, and the ghosts of my past left impressions on me like Hell-bent phantom memories. These friends of mine, however, refused to give in to my apparent identity crisis. Their insistence kept me hanging on to the slightest glimmer of hope that the glory days of yesterday could be recaptured once more.
But being the philosopher that I am, coming up with rationalizations for a radical, if not round-a-about, change of lifestyle had not been difficult to come by. Designing shrewd arguments and making them stand up to a host of objections was part of my job and daily study. After all, I reasoned, aren’t we defined by who we are and not necessarily by what we do? Taking off the runner’s mantle did not seem like a betrayal of self, especially since my reasons were completely others-centered. I was trying to give more of myself to others who I had singled out for special importance in my life, including all the free time I used to devote to maniacal training regimens. That sounds like a humanitarian pledge, doesn’t it? The idea that the athlete’s road to glory was nothing but the disguised mark of vanity on the human heart seemed to align itself with a certain kind of gut instinct. If running is just about being the best, then how does that fit into the overall scheme of things and worst of all, what does that say about the state of my soul?
But although it made intuitive sense, there was still an element of unfinished business that wouldn’t loosen its grip on my tormented consciousness. If I had to describe it, I’d compare it to an itch one feels the urge to scratch, only it was an existential itch and not a physical one. I’m reminded of the old adage that says if you love something, let it go and if it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be.” It must be true that some dreams die hard, others not without a fight, and still a few not at all.
One hour and 37 minutes after the gun went off that morning, I turned to the same girl who had been my shadow the entire race and said, “I was wrong earlier, the answer was next to me the whole time.” Sometimes all it takes is a group of loyal friends that keep believing even when you’ve lost all faith. The truth is that a faster version of myself might not be a “better” me but it’s a happier me, even if that means being the big fish in a small pond. We all have to take our victories wherever they can be won, and to our surprise, those around us will thank us for it.
So for all of you runners in hiding or potential retirees, think twice before you commit bipedal suicide. Since we know we can’t hide, we might as well start running…fast.
Just two years earlier my name could have been featured in the “who’s-who” of South Florida running. The local 5K’s were my legitimate stomping grounds and I had the race times to back it up, too. I took pride in my craft, the same way a working professional might soak in the well-deserved respect of his/her colleagues. Running was the vehicle through which I proved to myself and others that I was worth more than the average Joe. If I won enough races, I thought, and became truly invincible, then the pursuit of excellence would have been well worth all the blood, sweat, and tears it took to get me there. Then it started happening. All of a sudden, I was the guy with the bull’s-eye on his back, the one everybody looks at as though he had a touch of the supernatural.
Amidst this unprecedented rise in the ranks, I got blindsided with a competing interest that made me re-assess my true priorities. It questioned my loyalties, confronted me with all the big questions, and forced me to grow up in more ways than one. The emptiness I had felt throughout my previous campaigning for greatness was now being replaced by a fulfilled sense of purpose. All indications were that I was headed in the right direction, leaving behind a selfish quest in favor of a higher cause. The person I had been before, or at least the habits and routines which I had grown accustomed to, were being relegated to an article of distant memory. I was convinced, and still am, that this was a major step in my maturation as a more complete and balanced individual, but I still had one more lesson to learn.
So here I was, after a leave of absence and in depreciated form, taking a crash course on humility and the plight of the average runner. I couldn’t be sure if that nauseous feeling pervading my system was reactive disgust at my sluggish pace or if indeed, I was on the border of metabolic breakdown. The first four miles alongside Miami’s beautiful cruise ships were supposed to be an appetizer, only this time the distance felt like a full course meal. My competitive personality, however, would not allow me to shift down gears even if my motors were letting out some serious exhaust fumes. Somewhere around mile 10, my partner turned to me and said, “Hey, don’t hold yourself back for me” but the truth was I had nothing left and the trudge was underway.
During my recent hiatus, I had, as St. Augustine once famously asserted, “become a vast problem unto myself.” The consequences of my desertion led to an estrangement from friends I once considered to be brothers-at-arms, and the ghosts of my past left impressions on me like Hell-bent phantom memories. These friends of mine, however, refused to give in to my apparent identity crisis. Their insistence kept me hanging on to the slightest glimmer of hope that the glory days of yesterday could be recaptured once more.
But being the philosopher that I am, coming up with rationalizations for a radical, if not round-a-about, change of lifestyle had not been difficult to come by. Designing shrewd arguments and making them stand up to a host of objections was part of my job and daily study. After all, I reasoned, aren’t we defined by who we are and not necessarily by what we do? Taking off the runner’s mantle did not seem like a betrayal of self, especially since my reasons were completely others-centered. I was trying to give more of myself to others who I had singled out for special importance in my life, including all the free time I used to devote to maniacal training regimens. That sounds like a humanitarian pledge, doesn’t it? The idea that the athlete’s road to glory was nothing but the disguised mark of vanity on the human heart seemed to align itself with a certain kind of gut instinct. If running is just about being the best, then how does that fit into the overall scheme of things and worst of all, what does that say about the state of my soul?
But although it made intuitive sense, there was still an element of unfinished business that wouldn’t loosen its grip on my tormented consciousness. If I had to describe it, I’d compare it to an itch one feels the urge to scratch, only it was an existential itch and not a physical one. I’m reminded of the old adage that says if you love something, let it go and if it comes back to you, it’s yours forever. If it doesn’t, then it was never meant to be.” It must be true that some dreams die hard, others not without a fight, and still a few not at all.
One hour and 37 minutes after the gun went off that morning, I turned to the same girl who had been my shadow the entire race and said, “I was wrong earlier, the answer was next to me the whole time.” Sometimes all it takes is a group of loyal friends that keep believing even when you’ve lost all faith. The truth is that a faster version of myself might not be a “better” me but it’s a happier me, even if that means being the big fish in a small pond. We all have to take our victories wherever they can be won, and to our surprise, those around us will thank us for it.
So for all of you runners in hiding or potential retirees, think twice before you commit bipedal suicide. Since we know we can’t hide, we might as well start running…fast.
O Defeat, where is thy sting?
Those who claim there is nothing agonizing about failure are either hopelessly deluded or, worst yet, have never tried to surpass themselves and thus not courted the bitter pangs of defeat. Crushed under the weight of misfortune, sometimes we are forced to come to grips with an inescapable reality for which no excuses can be drawn or rationalizations be offered. No, I’m not referring to personal tragedies or painful circumstances in life, although those, too, would most certainly qualify. You see, for some of us, running is more than just a convenient pastime or a means by which to procure desired ends. As the 19th century German philosopher, Martin Heidegger, once put it: Running can be a “ way of being at the world” for it makes us who we are and gives meaning to an otherwise absurd existence.
If we were to go back in time some 2500 years ago to the ancient plains of the Greek peninsula, we would no doubt find ourselves in the midst of the tumultuous Persian Wars. In one of the finest moments ever captured in recorded history, 300 Spartan soldiers held off 70,000 Persian infantrymen at the narrow pass at Thermopylae in order to salvage a Greek victory. They fought to the very last man, knowing from the outset that their fates were sealed, and when the Persians threatened to darken the skies with their piercing arrows, Leonidas, king of Sparta, spoke defiantly: “Then we will fight in the shade.”
While the Spartans may have been the most militaristic society the world has ever seen, it is clear that 21st century man is not likely to find himself wielding an axe across the blood-soaked terrain of massive human graves. But that’s just the point. This barbaric heroism of a bygone era has metamorphosed into modern man’s warring with the self and all that is rotten in the world. As runners, we of all people should be most familiar with battles that are fought on invisible fronts. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against an inherent weakness of purpose, a tendency towards accepting defeat rather than merely tolerating it. Though not a runner himself, Theodore Roosevelt came very close to defining the essence of the true road warrior: “ The credit belongs to the man who is in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at worst if he fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
When we speak of defeat in terms of dreams that were dashed, hopes that came to naught, and goals that we failed to meet, we ought to remember the Spartans who, though certain of defeat, rose to glory in a falling state instead of giving in to the inevitable. You have two choices really. You can either throw in the towel or, as I would say, use it to wipe the sweat off your face. Do you have what it takes?
If we were to go back in time some 2500 years ago to the ancient plains of the Greek peninsula, we would no doubt find ourselves in the midst of the tumultuous Persian Wars. In one of the finest moments ever captured in recorded history, 300 Spartan soldiers held off 70,000 Persian infantrymen at the narrow pass at Thermopylae in order to salvage a Greek victory. They fought to the very last man, knowing from the outset that their fates were sealed, and when the Persians threatened to darken the skies with their piercing arrows, Leonidas, king of Sparta, spoke defiantly: “Then we will fight in the shade.”
While the Spartans may have been the most militaristic society the world has ever seen, it is clear that 21st century man is not likely to find himself wielding an axe across the blood-soaked terrain of massive human graves. But that’s just the point. This barbaric heroism of a bygone era has metamorphosed into modern man’s warring with the self and all that is rotten in the world. As runners, we of all people should be most familiar with battles that are fought on invisible fronts. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against an inherent weakness of purpose, a tendency towards accepting defeat rather than merely tolerating it. Though not a runner himself, Theodore Roosevelt came very close to defining the essence of the true road warrior: “ The credit belongs to the man who is in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at worst if he fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”
When we speak of defeat in terms of dreams that were dashed, hopes that came to naught, and goals that we failed to meet, we ought to remember the Spartans who, though certain of defeat, rose to glory in a falling state instead of giving in to the inevitable. You have two choices really. You can either throw in the towel or, as I would say, use it to wipe the sweat off your face. Do you have what it takes?
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