Hard Runs

Sometimes you get stuck doing something you know you need to do but avoid doing because of circumstances that you pile in front of the door till you have to use a crowbar to get yourself out of the predicament that you built for yourself. Making things harder for yourself is a self-inflicted wound that you could have avoided altogether by just gutting it out and doing what you were supposed to do.

Running is like that. If you are training for something then you commit to the moving towards the goal. If you avoid the commitment then it just waits for you. You know it is there - it is patient. Eventually you have to sit down with yourself and make amends for your poor decisions.

I have had some hard runs of late because of choices I made. I really cannot blame anyone but myself for the stress or the result of the runs that I have to do. Is it easier to run when it is 60◦ rather than in 92◦. Resounding yes. Is it harder to run up a mountain and down the mountain to get your miles in – yes. What you get for your reward is just what you get to put into it. I have not seen a single runner who gets to have someone pitch-hit for him to finish the run. You get to do it yourself – it is an individual sport – which individuals compete against themselves. Worse than golf or baseball. The only way to cut time off of your run is to push yourself. Pushing yourself is the only way to get any better at what you are doing.

Today I went for a 5 mile run in West Valley. My employer luckily has a shower at work – so when I am a mess as I usually become after a run I can become presentable again. This run was tough. I know I can run faster than I did. I blamed the environment – 88 some degrees outside along with a blazing sun outside. That can make a run slightly more difficult. It can be even more difficult when you have the opportunity to go in the morning and you stay in bed. Self-inflicted wound.

So what do you do? Man can either do what has been done in the past and continue suffering because of his own actions. OR the other less travelled path is the one that leads through the forest of planning, sacrifice, and hard work.

The choice to go the road of suffering and pain is one that you can make easily take. It is the one more travelled. It is the one that most people will take because they don’t want do try something different. As my wife would say – to prepare themselves for success. 15 miles in the middle of the day 91 degrees. 8 miles in 91 degrees. 5 miles full of pain and no satisfaction. Your own choice to go that road.

I think that less travelled road is the one I will take. It is the one that has the better reward – your own cup of satisfaction. Brewed with your own hands. Ground out by the runs at night and the pain of the daylight run. Oh you can look for an easier path. There of course are the paths that are made of broken promises to yourself. But you can take control of your own direction. Do you go the easy road that is paved with quitting, stopping, gasping, and hot dilerium? Or is the road you take paved with your own satisfaction that you put in the time and effort to be successful?

As Dr. Seuss would say – “Oh the places we’ll go”

When Fat Flies

So - philosophically why does a man run? I started out with small distances. A couple of miles here. A few miles there. I started to like it. Which for most people you would equate with the first blush of insanity. Why go running when the Hostess Fruit Pies are so close at hand?

I am not sure if anyone of you that read this blog run. I think that some of you do and might identify with me at some primal level. But most - if not runners - won't understand what transformation happens as one begins to accumulate more and more miles.

I will try to explain it a little bit. I was a fat man. To be honest 265 pounds does not look good on my nubby little frame. It is something you don't want to cram into a Sunday suit - much less begin to buy those elastic pants. I also have genetic demons that haunt me from both sides of the family. Type 2 Diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and probably mild amounts of insanity. Mix that with the realization that goes something like this: I am a fat man. If fat causes premature death - and it does - do I want to die early and spare the earth or begin to run/exercise/swim/walk/eat right/watch what I eat/actually look at food labels/change my habits/quit eating so much food based on butter?

So it began - I began to run small distances. Mostly to prove to myself that I would not die if I ran those distances. I ran in the following races:

Big Sur Marathon 2010: Finished 5:03:46

Riverton 1/2 Marathon 2010: Finished 2:11:30.8

Top of Utah Marathon 2010: Finished 4:58:51

Ogden Marathon 2011: 5:16:48

Salt Lake Marathon 2011: 5:14:37

Ragnar Relay 2011: Baby Got Swack 30 Hours (18 Miles for me)

Freedom 1/2 Marathon 2011: 2:09:54

So what do you see above? What I see is a lot of room for me to improve. My wife - Mollee - gave me some wisdom. She summarized my training and my drive. To get ready for the Big Sur Marathon I believed that I had to go longer and faster and train harder than I had ever done before because I believed in my mind that it was going to kill me. I believed that I had to somehow cheat death or some such nonsense and that I had to go that distance. Guess what. I went that distance. I cracked the 5 hour mark for a marathon. And since then it has become routine for me to come in over the 5 hours mark. I was reading a book "Once A Runner" which I might add is an easy read which also entertains. But in that book they talk about the numbers. How you are known by the numerals after your name. Well I am know in my mind as someone that can run in a marathon - go for over five hours of strenuous exercises and not die.

So now what do you do with yourself? You have found that you can run for a prolonged period of time. But are you still pushing yourself? Are you still grasping at the last ticking numbers and pushing yourself to beat your last effort? If you think about it - that is what running is. It is you against you. Golf is you against a ball armed with a stick. But Running is you versus yourself. I find that I am my harshest critic when it comes to me.

This last weekend - I decided to run the Freedom Half Marathon - it runs from Emigration Canyon - to the Utah State Capital Building. Very scenic. But in the middle of the race I figured something out. I could be faster if I wanted to be. I could push myself to really go the distance faster. To push myself and get to the end quicker. I don't know if you know this but if you don't run the whole race or you walk and then run and then walk and then run your grandchildren will overtake you and smoke you. SO - I figured out that I can be faster than I have been. I know now that inside I have the ability to push myself harder and farther. Mollee asked me what my Beats Per Minute on my GPS watch was. I did not know - so she told me that I needed to push myself to find the limits to where I could go. 150 BPM. Not bad - 165 BPM equate to a 7 minute mile for me. That is pretty fast.

So what is the point of my rambling. I will put it into a succinct phrase. "It is you against yourself." I was reading Michael Bloomberg and his outlook on the future. He said "You can't change the past - you can learn from it but you can only look forward to the future and work to change your outcome."

Therein lies the lesson. I cannot go back and break off the numbers from my last distance run. I cannot shave minutes off of what has already been done. BUT. I can work harder right now - push myself harder - faster - and with more momentum so that the numbers associated with my name change in the future. I know I can run 8 minute miles - but can I do that for 26.2 or 13.1? How fast can I go? The numbers don't lie and neither does the effort to get you to the next race and obliterate your own records.

Don't walk, run. Don't run. Sprint. Push it up to the next level and what reward is there? You, but an improved you. With no regrets because you left it all out there on the course. You pushed it and you worked on it and your result is something to be proud of.

Reach for the Hostess Pies? Sorry I am going a little bit higher than that.

What does one think after a marathon....?

Since Blogger is down I was going to put this in a better form and then you could judge for yourself whether it was good or not. Blogger however is not cooperating with my quest to share my brain with you - so thus I get to put it in one long post here on Facebook and then hope that my identity does not get stolen by terrorists.

So I was cleaning out my brain during a three mile run today and wanted to share with you the thoughts I had in retrospect after the Salt Lake Marathon that I ran on a whim in April.

So to give you some back story on how I came to run a marathon when I did not plan on it and did not really have it in mind to do it. I am in the middle of training for the Ogden Marathon and the week of the Salt Lake Marathon I was supposed to run 20 miles. So in my mind I thought - "Dave why don't you pay the 100 dollars, have people to cheer you along the way and if you need some water it will be provided all along the path. And you get a medal at the end." The last part really is what kicked my thoughts into high gear. I can get some hardware to take home after the race and something to hang on the Christmas Tree at the end of the year. I don't really do events that don't give medals to the finishers - I think it is dumb to go out and get a t-shirt and not any hardware. But I digress.

So, on Friday - I go and register for the race - pay up my money - and Mollee registers for the 5K race that runs way before all the other things that day. Start the insanity right there. 20 miles can definitely hurt a bit less than 26.2.

But I began the race and was able to do pretty well until mile 22 when the bottom of my desire to run all the way sort of petered out and I was left to my own devices and had to walk and run the last four miles.

My epiphany came well after my wife and son scraped me back together at the finish line. It came to me while I was thinking about the race and how it was run. It came to me when I looked at the overall life journey that we are all on and how well we do while we are here. For those that are not of a religious nature you can stop reading here and skip to the end.

The real race was run by Jesus Christ - and it was not easy. Just as a marathon is laid out and the course known ahead of time by all participants, so was the life of Jesus. His first 3/4 of His life was not easy - but it was building up to where it was going to be very hard and excruciating. So is a marathon. The first 15 or 17 miles are not bad. Sometimes the pace is not exactly what you want it to be. Sometimes you wish the miles would tick faster but you get what you get and your speed is set by yourself. Jesus was much like a marathon. He was able to get the first 20 out of the way and then it was a battle for the last 6.2. He pushed and He labored for all of us. He took great burdens upon Himself for all of us. He gave everything He had for those around Him. He muscled through the difficult portions of His last hours and pushed through to grasp and claw to the end. He knew that the price and the reward were not in the moment but in the final destination. He did not stop - He did not give in - He did not succumb to pain, anguish, or temptation. When the race became hard - He did not take a shortcut or wait for the paramedics to diagnose His condition. He put His body and His flesh and blood all on the line. For the last few miles - where it hurt the most - for me it was the last 4, for Him it was the people turning on Him, the Romans casting lots on His Raiment, Barabas released, the long trek to Golgotha, the spikes driven home in his wrists and hands, and thieves to be His companions. That sort of puts all that I have and all that I do into perspective.

Is my road too tough? Is my trial too sore? Have I the strength to put all the pain and weakness away and power up the last few steps to the finish line? Is it enough for me? Is there something else I can do? What can I do better in my life to live to be like Him? Where is my drive and what am I heading for? Am I doing all that I can do to warrant Him as my Saviour and Redeemer?

In the Marathon, towards the very end, a friend came to me. An angel in running shoes. She was able to be my companion to see me through those last few miles. Am I am angel to others? Do I put on my shoes and lift those that are falling short and help them to their goal? When the road begins to steepen and the incline begins - am I the one to push along and assist those that need?

My race is not just for the short marathon - but for the rest of my life and if it is for the rest of my life then I have much to do to measure up to the Savior - who pushed it all to the limit and beyond.

Beginnings - Middles - and Me

Where to begin? I was off on a side-track of life when running beckoned me. I think it was more like a taunt. You see I don't see myself as a runner - I see myself as someone who just goes out and covers ground - and the end result is that I wear out several pairs of running shoes in the process. Before I began wearing out shoes I had never quite connected the fact that shoes have mileage limits and that at some point in time you have to throw them out. Ask my wife about the box of shoes I have in the garage that are from my sixth grade year. Great for roofing or taking the trash out - but not near as usable when it comes to going 10 miles.

So the reason that I took some time off was because directly after the Top of Utah Marathon - of which I was able to finish in 5 hours - Mollee and I took an interesting exit off of the main thoroughfare of normal life and welcomed David Henry Lamb into our lives. He was supposed to come along in November - but in a hurried state his advent was moved up from November to September and voila we have a cute little boy - now 24 pounds of smiles and happy thoughts.

His advent slowed my running to a blip of two runs in four months. But he was worth every minute and he is currently passed out after gorging himself on fruits, vegetables, and milk. Mollee does a great job of helping him to realize how much food can fit in hollow legs.

In January I was itching to run. Some people don't itch in January to run at all. But, I did. So I was thinking that I should plan to run another marathon. Now you would at this time lay me down on a long leather couch and ask "Dave - when did your body and brain separate and become so estranged?"

I thought that I should do the Ogden Marathon - but that race was closed - so I began to go short distances with the goal to be ready for the Spudman in July. BUT the gods of running smiled on this poor demented fool of a man and thus I am now entered into the Ogden, and the St. George Marathons. Sometimes the leather couch would do someone good.

I was asked at church once "Why do you run?" I cannot definitively give you an answer to that question. Is it the challenge - is it the grind - is it the drive and the accomplishment? I cannot give you one answer to it. It seems to be something within the psyche that yearns ever so slightly to push the fibers that wrap the muscles and see how fast and how far they can go - and not die.

So, Come along with me - as we ride the school bus of running - and make sure to bring your crayons and something to read because along this path all it is is the man, the shoes, and the drive to fly.

Mountains, Finishing, and Little Round Top

I was out for a short run this morning. 3 miles was all of it. Chat (the dog) wondered what ever happened to the 12 mile odyssey that happened last week. He really thinks that their were some chipmunks and ground squirrels that could be fomenting a rebellion. And of course he is the only one that can deal with those little creatures.

So I read about "visualization" in a book somewhere. It helps you to put yourself in the place and in the time for an event. I think that this is helpful because then you can see yourself lying in a hospital bed 30 years from now and in my case dying from nothing.

"Nurse, what do you mean he is dying of nothing?" Doctor Bob says.

"Well Doc it seems that he ran a lot, swam sparingly, gave away all the fat he could to others, and is just dying of nothing. You should go visit his next door neighbor - he has got at least ten names to what he is going to kick out for..."

The other more pressing thing is the whole marathon "thing." I mean it is 26.2 miles. That does not trouble me. It is only 26.2 miles and most of it is downhill. What is troubling is that I might not have enough oatmeal to power the engine. I might not beat the Africans that are in the race. I might not really have the solution to world peace and the worst thing is is that I might have crappy music on my pod that could slow me down. Oh the horror and the agony of listening to the "best of michael jackson" and having not put in any songs by Ozzy Ozbourne.

But, the past 15 weeks have been spent building the engine that could. The past 15 weeks have been gathering the sharpening the shovel and building up my coal pile to drive the locomotive that is me. I visualize at times my body. The feet and legs are the drive wheels of a great locomotive. The torso is the furnace that burns the fuel to power the legs. The arms pump and move to get the rest of it going. The head is where it all happens. Thinking of what is going on and what needs to happen. Guaging the distance and relaying to the rest of the body what needs to be done. Pinching off the thoughts of agony and defeat and replacing them with images of power and resolve.

I draw an image from from the Civil War. Joshua Chamberlain was a General commanding his troops from 20th Maine at Gettysburg. He was in charge of holding the end of the line. If he did not hold the end of the line the Confederates would flank the Union and collapse the line. At the very last moment he recognized that the Confederates were coming up the hill - and he ordered his men to "fix bayonets." Joshua and his men saved the union that day as numbers were against them and through the smoke and haze of battle he saw an opening and took it.

I am not yet as brave as General Chamberlain. Not by a long shot. But during this training stint I have seen the goal through the pain, fog, and uncertainty. Taking the opportunity and seizing it gives me the drive to see past mile 20 and see that there is only 6.2 left and even the most mentally unstable person would be able to get his butt in gear and go for it. If men with bayonets fixed can charge down the hill and secure the victory, then even I, Fat Man, can withstand 26.2.

The Taper Weeks....

On Saturday I ran for 12 miles.

Monday I ran for 3.

Wedensday I did 4.

Thursday I did 3.

The only thought that really stuck out to me was: Was that all?

All of them were short compared with the 20 miles I did two weeks ago and the 18 before that. Dinky little runs that get you ready for the monster run that happens two Saturdays from now.

I think it is a bit like the lull before the battle begins.

There is quiet - relatively.

Whispers of impending trauma and destruction filter among the crowd.

And then it begins.

Running, walking, moving, going.

All the preparation and the buildup is coming to a resolution. What happens is the end result is that we have run this far together and then we really get to go and do what we have prepared to do. All of the pounding, grunting, sweating, hills, turns, and twists of the run have been in prep for doing something bigger. I don't think you go out with no goals. People just don't run somewhere because they want to smell new trees.

People do things for a purpose. Sometimes the purpose is a shallow and despicably selfish one. Mine is because I like to eat food and food likes me and likes to stay in the form of fat. Another reason would be the genetics of the whole thing. I want to run further than anyone has in my family. (Save my wife). I want to become a conquerer of myself. The doughnuts help that drive.

There is a science to it. Fat = Fuel. Fuel = burnable. Burnable = not needed. It is time to figure out that the fuel I give myself is not to be horded. It is to be spilt upon the road of tribulation. Death to the fat. Fuel to the fire. Fat men store no doughnuts.

Rocky Ridge

Today and yesterday were 4 mile days. Today was supposed to be a 6 mile day but life did not start out normally and I lost some time and thus my long run is tomorrow. Chat, the dog, did not know the difference. He was just as happy to go out and run as he was to chase squirrels and hunt for deer.

Epiphany #1: Nothing is as hard as it would seem. Running up hill is never as easy as going downhill. Making the uphills hard is the job of yourself. I make it hard because of what I eat and how I train. The harder I train the easier the run gets.

Epiphany #2: This came to me while I was running up City Creek Canyon.

"This road is paved."

"Rocky Ridge was not."

"What I have now is a lot easier than what those handcart pioneers had to do."

"What is my personal 'Rocky Ridge?'"

Two years ago - or so - our church decided to truck all the youth out to Martin's Cove, Rocky Ridge, 1st Crossing, and other highlights of the Mormon Handcart Pioneer Trail. I was not involved in the pulling of the handcarts. I was on the luggage crew. Which entailed throwing bags and hauling tents. Fairly easy duty compared to pulling a heavy cart up and down hills, blisters, snakes, BLM officials, and unlimited supplies of Gatorade.

I was at the time training for a Triathlon with my sister Anamarie. She wanted to have me along for some suffering so I wanted to assist. I had brought my running shoes and had vowed that over the couple of days that I was out there that I would run a bit to get some conditioning in. Needless to say - Mike Bennetts "power beans," Blaine Overson's cooking (excellent), and the fact that I was out by my lonesome did not contribute a whole lot to getting my shoes on.

The last day of the trek is possibly the hardest one. For the youth. For the leaders it was a lot of driving and chucking bags, and driving, and chucking bags. But on the last day of the Trek I got my butt out of my tent. Strapped on my shoes and went for a run. The location of the run was along the trail of the Handcart Pioneers, Martin and Willy, respectively. I ran along a dirty, dusty, rocky trail. It was up and down and straight along a mesa/mountain/large hill. It wound all the way down to the base of the hill. And then it took a 90 degree angle. And then you headed up the hill to Rocky Ridge.

At the base of the hill is a grave. It has several names enshrined in metal of those that did not make it and perished at the base of the hill. It has a little fence that surrounds it. It is hallowed ground. Those that sacrificed everything to come to that point and much more to assist those to go beyond that point. They had fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, and those that depended on them. They had hauled their handcarts further than humanly possible. Their spirits were undaunted - but the tabernacle of clay could go no further.

I took the 90 degree angle. And began my ascent of Rocky Ridge. I did not have to far before I realized that I would not be able to make it all the way up the hill before everyone else needed me to help pack up camp and move along for the day. So I turned around and came back down to the cemetery at the bottom of the hill. I paused again.

At the bottom of the hill, facing east. I witnessed a spectacular sight. It was a sunrise. It was not the normal "hey planet how are you." It was a glorious witness of God and His love for me. I understood at that point why these poor wretched souls had struggled up to that point in their lives. It was because they believed that God loved them. That the Creator loved them and that He, had helped them all the way along the plains until that point when He wanted them to come home.

I share this, because during life, my life in particular. I have found my own "Rocky Ridge." I find it at times when I don't expect it. Those pioneers did not expect to be faced with one more trial. But they persevered and took the next step. I don't know if I have the mettle that they had. The iron in the soul that is a witness of their close communing with the Almighty. All I have is myself to conquer. Shoes on my feet. A heart full of desire.

I need to remind myself of what matters. When I get all wrapped up on my menial existence. When I think my burden is too heavy. I think back to that day of the Sunrise at the Foot of Rocky Ridge. I think of the burdens so heavy, feet wrapped in rags, hands gripping the cart, wind blowing cold, snow so deep, the trail outstretched in front. I wonder what really matters. I wonder if I have the juice to keep it going. Stripping away the layers of doubt and finding out what really lies beneath.

I am not sure I know the answer to those questions. But I can take the lesson of those at Rocky Ridge. Just keep moving Dave, Just keep going.