“Just promise me that you won’t die.”
“I promise! I
promise!”
When I told Julie that I wouldn’t die, I was thinking about
the physical toll that running two races in the same day could have on the
body. While I’ve not yet run a marathon,
I’ve never gotten to the end of a race at the absolute bottom of my energy
tank. It surely seems reasonable to tack
on a few extra miles after a race. I
wasn’t thinking about getting run over by a train.
~~
The joy of speed was what sent me down this path. But it’s not just that it feels good to run
fast; it feels great to run faster than somebody else. I still remember the end of that race a year
ago -- my game changer -- so well. I had
run at a moderate, even slow, pace. Of
course, those finishing with me had run at a similarly slow pace. But another runner and I decided to tear it
up at the end. I went to pass her, but
she didn’t want to be passed. I stepped
it up; I still had plenty left in my tank at the end of the “fun run.” But apparently, so did she. So, for the last quarter mile of the race,
she and I were sprinting right next to each other, neither of us wanting to
give in. I got a step on her right at
the end, and I beat her. It was exhilarating.
That race changed me.
It awakened a competitiveness in me that I had not before known in my
running.
Competitiveness is a mighty beast. I suppose the progress of the world would be
much slower without the drive that makes us want to do better than someone
else, or perhaps better for someone else.
I wasn’t sure if I would be writing this piece yesterday or today. Yesterday morning, I ran my usual morning
run. When I have specific goals for a run, I vary
my course a bit to suit it -- but generally, I run the exact same route every
time I head out. I’ve run it hundreds of
times in the last three years. It suits
my needs and I know it well. When I’m
running according to a training schedule, I generally have to pace myself to
keep my heart rate near a specific threshold.
But when I’m “off the clock,” as I have been lately, I feel free to run
it however I wish. Of the hundreds of
times that I’ve run that route, yesterday was my fastest time to date. Why?
Mostly, it’s because I keep getting faster as I run more intensely. But also, I knew that I’d be writing
this. I wanted to let you know that,
yesterday, I got my PR. Well, I didn’t
get this written yesterday. Today? A new PR -- seven seconds per mile faster
than yesterday.
My running mantra used to be, “Press on like Paul!” with
specific reference to Philippians 3:13-14: “Brothers, I do not consider that I
have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and
straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize
of the upward call of G-d in Christ Jesus.”
That’s a good verse to keep you running from an endurance
perspective. But does Paul say, “Just do
your best. Run the race for
yourself. Really, just finishing the
race is the goal. So press on!” No.
Decidedly not. Paul elsewhere says,
“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the
prize? So run that you may obtain it.” (1 Corinthians 9:24). Granted, he was using a metaphor. Still, it is hard to read that and the verses
that follow it and not stand convicted. If
you’re going to race, run to win.
I have taken a different mantra for racing: “No tomorrow.” There’s no point in holding anything back
when you are in a race for which you’ve been training. Better leave it all out there. Otherwise, regret may follow you afterwards.
As I ran the Greer Earth Day Half Marathon, I felt very good
about my progress. I had learned a
number of ways to gain or keep an advantage on other racers, and was putting my
mind and my body to good work. I’ve
learned that I tend to run faster when I’ve got headphones on. There’s something about driving beats keeping
their persistent tempo in your ears. It
keeps your pace up, and it distracts you from the other things you might hear:
heart beating, breath drawing, feet pounding.
Music changes your focus just enough to be a welcome diversion during a
hard run. I was running well. There were a number of challenging hills on
the course. Just before the 11-mile
mark, I crossed a bridge, and was running pretty hard downhill of the back side
of it. Then I noticed the arms of a
railroad crossing in front of me starting to flash their red lights.
I kept running as the arms lowered. I could see the train coming down the
track. My brain was working furiously
but it was revving in neutral. The beat of the music
kept pounding its techco “thud. thud. thud.”
A couple runners in front of me stopped in front of the almost fully
lowered arms of the track crossing. I
had to decide. Look again. There’s no time to look. Gotta stop.
Probably. “Thud. thud. thud.” I’m running too well to want to deal with a
setback like this. If I can beat the
train, I’ll get an advantage on these guys.
I can make it. “Thud. thud. thud.” I dodge underneath the railroad crossing arm,
running as fast as I can. I look briefly
to my right as I cross the tracks. Man,
that train is really hauling. It’s a lot
closer than I thought. I get to the
other side but hadn’t thought about the other arm. I make a leap to my right, move forward, and
I’m on my way.
Another hundred feet up the road and I look back. The thing was only three or four cars
long. The path is clear. The other runners continue on their course.
I didn’t get hit. But
the image of that train bearing down on me stuck with me for the remainder of
the race. Wow, that was the stupidest
thing that I’ve done in a long time.
That was really stupid. What if I’d
tripped crossing those tracks? I’m used
to running around cars, but cars can evade you by slowing down or turning a
little bit. A train can’t do that. Man, how stupid was that? Ok, I’ve got to finish this race strong. No tomorrow.
No tomorrow.
With that, I decided that I shouldn’t run the 5k that evening.
