No Tomorrow - Part 2

“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.

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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.