I was on the verge of turning 33. Too young for a mid-life crisis or deep existential awakening but having been married for 3 years I came to the realization that I desperately needed a hobby, preferably one that got me out of the house for hours at a time. It was at this point that I took up long distance running.
I’m not sure exactly why I turned to distance running besides the fact that it fit my two criteria, get me out of the house and it took lots of time. Whenever I would see people running down the road it seemed like an activity that they didn’t seem to be enjoying. Runners always appeared to have a pained look on their face that seemed to ask “why am I really doing this ?” Perhaps the real reason, if they were being truthful, was that they needed a hobby that got them out of the house for hours at a time.
Admittedly my journey to distance running does seem a bit strange in retrospect. I had never run on the track or cross country team in high school and although I worked out and was in relatively good shape, running wasn’t something I did consistently, but I had always been intrigued by distance running and the ability to train to endure pain and discomfort that seemed to accompany distance running. And quite frankly it fit my personality of enjoying solitary pursuits in some grand quixotic activity. I had always been amazed at the story of the first marathon runner, a messenger in an ancient war who ran 26 miles from the plains of Marathon to deliver the news of a great victory…..he collapsed and died soon after, a Homeric death if there ever was one.
Initially I told no one of my new passion besides my wife. Partly because I wasn’t really sure how long I would commit to it and partly because I knew people would become puzzled and confused about my desire to do an activity that left me exhausted and uncomfortable. Eventually I did begin telling people of my plans to run a marathon. People I told would be silent for a moment with a confused and puzzled look on their faces, before eventually saying something like “now why would you do that ?”
But once I started doing it, I loved it. I bought magazines, yes magazines, that were devoted solely to distance running and all aspects of training. I studied training programs, experimented with different workouts, trained before work then switched and tried training after work to see what was more effective, before work was way more easier to accomplish effective or not. I bought running shoes and then more shoes. My wife stopped accompanying me to the shoe store knowing I would be there for at least an hour trying on shoes and talking training, despite my obvious bribe of taking her to dinner afterwards.
Running became who I was and what I did… it defined me in ways I was sure non runners could never understand. And when I lined up at the starting line of my first marathon with 20,000 other runners I knew I had found my people and my passion.
One marathon led to another and then another, even traveling out of state and meeting up with an old college buddy who had also discovered distance running. And of course there were shorter races almost every weekend in my area. I started noticing the same familiar faces at each starting line, and I soon began to realize who was fast and who I could realistically beat.
When my wife became pregnant one of the baby shower gifts was a running stroller so I could keep running and take my son with me, perhaps my first bit of parental multitasking it accomplished two very important tasks, giving my wife a break and getting my son a nap as he soon fell asleep in the motion of the rolling stroller.
I soon began going to races pushing him in the stroller, no longer preoccupied with being fast, I took great joy in passing as many other runners as possible while pushing a stroller. After a couple of years my son outgrew the stroller, his legs were dangling over the edges. It was at about this time I tried to get back to marathon training. Perhaps it was fate or simply trying to do too much too soon but I quickly developed a stress fracture in my foot which was misdiagnosed initially and when finally properly diagnosed set my recovery back months. Unwilling to have surgery to remove the small offending bone, I began to realize my days of running marathons had suddenly ended.
I turned to other activities, activities that also took hours and required I vacate the premises. Hiking and biking soon replaced running but although each was satisfying they pale in comparison to distance running. I admit part of the allure of running marathons was telling people I ran marathons, and then seeing their bewildered looks. Running defined me in ways that no other activity ever has, no matter how many miles I ride my bike and although my creaky knees are probably partially attributed to running I wish I could still do it.
Peace and love,
John
John's Blog 