Being Superman: Long Distance Running as a Supreme Source of Confidence
One of the myriad benefits of long distance running is being treated to the wondrous and often times flabbergasted expressions of friends and family.
You did what this morning?
I ran 30 miles.
Why?
Because it’s fun.
You’re insane. Crazy. You ran 30 miles!?! Without being forced to? That’ s some real Superman shit right there.
Maybe it is!
Running any distance mark can be impressive. I’ve enjoyed the evolution of reactions I’ve received as I’ve transitioned from half marathons to marathons to ultramarathons. People really do think I have superhuman abilities, that what I do is simply not normal and shouldn’t be possible. But the truth is: anyone can run a marathon. Anyone can run an ultramarathon. It will take some time to lead up to such an achievement, but it’s certainly not as “insane” as folks make it out to be.
Desire. Discipline. A strong will.
And the courage to get out the door to say I’M DOING THIS.
That’s all that’s required.
Everyone has Superman power. It’ s just that most people aren’t willing to work to find it. Too lazy. Too comfortable. Too risk averse.
Living life like that, to me, is boring. Luckily, I found running before complete apathy found me; and the rewards from that discovery have been so rich and so fulfilling that I can’t ever imagine living without them again.
Confidence. Purpose. Strength.
I walk with my chest out, yes. But not in a douchey way. I just know that I’m capable of doing whatever I set my mind to, and that, in my opinion, is the only way to live.
The 2012 New Leaf Ultra Runs Windburn Six in the Stix 6-Hour Run
Running around a snowy 2.28 mile loop course for six straight hours against a relentlessly swirling 30 mph wind on a Saturday in January with about 50 or so other running fanatics is truly one of the most enjoyable activities I’ve ever participated in.
And I ain’t speakin’ in absolutes just to be speakin’ in absolutes.
I mean it. I had a blast!
Chicagoland’s New Leaf Ultra Runs ultrarunning club has been a key component in my successful transition past 26.2 miles and into distances that would cause the casual 5K runner to pick his jaw up off the floor. With several 50Ks under my belt and having just set a marathon PR, my focus turns to completing my first 50 mile race, the Ice Age Trail 50 in May. So a six hour fun run couldn’t have been more timely!
The Windburn Six fat ass event — a run that I’d been gazing at on the calendar with a heightened sense of anticipation for many weeks prior — gave me a good idea of where I am physically, but, more importantly, it also gave me a good idea of where I’m about to go, how far I’ll have to dig, and a titillating glimpse at the raw me still yet to be fully discovered.
For me, that’s what running is all about: self-discovery. And during the Windburn Six I discovered the following:
- Ultrarunners are the kindest, most genuine, most non-judgmental people on the planet. Unlike the road racing community, no one is there to size you up, to “beat” you, to make you look stupid. Everyone’s on your team, raring to support you and one can never get enough of that. Your success is the community’s success. And the collective spirit generated from this worldview is as contagious as it is electrifying.
- When it comes to running for six hours, snow ain’t a thing, but sunglasses would’ve been a smart idea. I spent the rest of my day doing my best Gizmo impression: Bright Light! Bright Light!
- The joy that comes from suffering can often be the sweetest, most everlasting kind. It’s the kind that reminds you I’M ALIVE! The longer we ran in circles, the happier we all seemed. The volume and intensity of smiles and thumbs-ups and high-fives increased with each hour that passed. Sure my legs were feeling a bit heavy with only an hour to go, but I ran faster and stronger in that last hour than I did the previous five because the group mind was willing me to perform!
- After several bundled up hours of running, nothing tastes quite as good as homemade chicken noodle soup!
- Singing on the trail is not only allowed: IT’S ENCOURAGED! I got to hear a couple of sweet tunes sung by some very happy ultrarunners and they definitely served as highlights of the day.
- If you’re feeling tired but want to go as fast as possible without it feeling bad, run with Tony Cesario for a mile or so. I did towards the end of the run and boy did he bring my legs back to life! I didn’t know they could do that!
- I get sick of gels after a couple hours, so eating just a little bit of real food often seems to keep my engine running!
- When you run on an exposed, markerless and snow covered loop over and over again, it’s hard to gauge exactly where you are at any given time. The only thing I could be sure of during the run was that I was indeed running. This put my mind exactly where I wanted it to be: totally immersed in the run. When everything else (negativity, self-doubt, reservations) was put aside, true introspection began to flourish. I was pleasantly surprised at what my mind thinks I’m capable of doing and I look forward to following it further.
- No one will make fun of you if you decide to FLY down the downhills like a little kid, arms waving, battle cry roaring all the way.
- At the zenith of any strenuous exercise, Oreo cookies are the bomb!!!
- Running is the perfect ice breaker. I met a bunch of cool people whom I had never met before and the communitas born of our shared experience serves as a special bond.
Most of all, I discovered what I already knew to be even more true: running long boosts my serotonin levels and fills me with satisfaction. And running long with like-minded, friendly folks sends me to the proverbial moon of happiness.
Total distance covered for the six hour run was 31.64 miles.
*Special thanks to Brian and Kelly for their impeccable organization skills and also to those who didn’t run but who were manning the aid station, eager to lend a helping hand. It’s people like you who make ours a paragon of the running community!
(Image courtesy of Kelly Gaines)
The Art of Rest
Rest. Wow. What a concept.
After months and months of solid training. With a strong base. A calculated taper.
You go out and run the race of your life.
Then you get to rest.
Rest!
I like to give myself 2 to 3 weeks of just playful recovery/rest. Go run when I feel like it. Don’t follow a plan. Leave the watch at home. I put on the shoes that look good at the time and go run wherever I feel drawn. Sometimes it’s just 5 miles around the neighborhood and sometimes it’s a nice, slow 6-hour adventure on single track.
You wanna veg out for three days and watch streaming epsiodes of Breaking Bad? Wanna stay up til midnight, Google surf and eat a bowl of cereal before you go to sleep? DO IT! You earned it!
And it feels awesome. Knowing that in a few weeks I’ll be back to the hard, disciplined grind of training for that target event makes the few weeks of active rest a damn fine prize. It refreshes me. Reminds me why I love to run. Makes me hunger and want it again.
I always do. I always want it again.
Taper Madness, Training Clarity
I once dated a girl who got real weird during her taper before the big race. As one who was already quite prone to the overly dramatic, she blamed everything on “the taper.” I’m irritable because of the taper. I can’t sleep because of the taper. Don’t talk to me because of the taper.
Jeesh.
Of course, everyone is different, but by the time I get to my typical three-week taper before race day, I’m so damn tired that I need some accumulated rest. In fact, I train to get to the taper, pushing myself hard in the weeks that lead up to it, knowing the reward will be a respite.
I welcome the shortened sessions on my feet, the dialed back tempos. Get me a foam roller, a bowl of pasta and a bottle of Two Buck Chuck and I’m good!
Only once race week comes does a hint of that taper madness anxiety slip into my conscience. I’m no psychiatrist, but I feel that most of what I feel is simply a case of the race jitters and nothing else. I mean, what good would I be doing myself by running more miles when I’m supposed to be saving my energy for the upcoming race?
Still, whenever anyone (myself included) mentions any symptom of that dreaded taper madness, my universal go-to cure is to open up that logbook and look at all the great work that’s already been done. As any seasoned runner will admit, the guts of one’s training comes before the taper, not during it.
If you’re not ready to tackle your goals three weeks out from race day, you might as well treat the race as a fun run.
So take pride in all that hard work, relax as race day approaches and tell taper madness to take a hike (preferably along the entire Appalachian Trail, so it stays away for a while).
Hitting the Wall: A Practice Reserved for Those Who Do Not Know What They Are Doing
In the February 2012 issue of Runner’s World, the featured celebrity runner on the back page is Death Cab for Cutie’s Ben Gibbard. In this brief interview, he mentions that he “hit the wall” in the L.A. Marathon and “had to walk a little.” He then offers this quip of philosophical brilliance: “How you transcend the wall, as a runner or a musician, defines who you are.”
Well, Mr. Gibbard, I hate to sound like an asshole, but if you think “how you transcend the wall, as a runner” is what “defines who you are”, then you are a complete idiot.
THE WALL IS AVOIDABLE! IT’S UNNECESSARY! PLEASE, STOP THE MADNESS!
Maybe you can tell already, but let me reiterate just how tired I am of hearing people talk about this “wall” as if it were some mystical obstacle that every runner must hurdle. It’s not! Hitting the wall is bonking, that’s all it is. It’s when glycogen stores are depleted and you don’t have any energy to continue doing rigorous exercise. And as all responsible runners know, if you bonk, it’s usually your fault!
I bonked once. And it was my fault! That day was hot and humid and the idea of putting any sort of food product in my mouth made me want to hurl, so I didn’t, and I paid the price. Thing is, I knew it was coming. Instead of slowing down or stopping, I braced myself for the experience and dealt with it the best I could.
It sucked.
I learned a lesson that day: if I can’t get gels down — if I can’t get ANY carbohydrates in my system — then I need to stop (or at least sloooow down considerably), or be ready for the consequences. Nowadays, I make sure I’m regularly taking in gels, drinking Gatorade and, in ultra races, taking the time to eat real food (cookies, bananas, whatever looks good) to avoid the unpleasant bonk experience.
I weigh 148 pounds and I know that if I’m running for more than an hour, then I need to be taking in 50-75 grams of carbohydrate every hour after that to ensure glycogen stores do not reach depletion level. Individual rates vary, but that’s what my body needs.
Every single marathon training book I’ve ever seen provides ample information on this valuable precaution, yet it seems that “hitting the wall” remains as some valiant badge of honor among those in the running community.
I see it as just being stupid.
*For more information on how to avoid hitting the wall, see Sunny Blende’s masterpiece from Ultrarunning Magazine.
Reverse That Rut: Go from Routine to Adventure with Just One Open Mind
No matter how fanatical the runner, there are going to be days when getting out and logging the long miles seems to be a daunting and taxing task. Like today.
Having stayed out late (it was New Year’s after all), I didn’t roll out of bed until 11 a.m. — it happens like once a year, I swear — and a quick look out the window revealed a dreary, gray sky with trees bent sideways from 40 mph hour winds. Ugh. Not only that, but the temperature was 32 degrees, so the signature Chicago whirlwinds would only make it feel colder.
Did I mention I was out late?
Two weeks away from the Houston Marathon, I had to get out and get 16 miles on the books, no matter how shitty the weather. But it was going to take some creativity to make it fun. So I decided to make it… AN ADVENTURE RUN!
For me, the adventure run is a cure-all for the doldrums of routine. And it can be done anywhere: on trails, in the city, on a country road. The only requirement is that you open your mind.
Let go of split times. Forget that headwind. Embrace your chaffed nipples.
Just get out there and run!
When I decide to go on an adventure run, I disassociate myself from all the “business” of running. I leave the watch at home. I go only by feel. I run in whatever direction pulls me at any given time. I turn when I feel like turning and I stop if I feel like stopping. I allow curiosity and exploration to motivate my legs and forget about everything else.
Most of all, I connect with that innate love I have for just RUNNING. I focus on that childlike playfulness, to go out and discover new worlds, new people, new things.
And today was quite the adventure. Sure it was windy. And cold. And dreary. But I had the time of my life, discovering new neighborhoods I’d never seen before while running from Sox Park to Wrigley Field and all the way back, turning on whims and smelling all the proverbial roses I wanted, when I wanted.
Having done all that, I now have my feet kicked up with a smile on my face. I feel fresh. Recharged. Fulfilled.
I went on an adventure run today. And I had a helluva time.
To Tune or Not to Tune, That Is the Question
Nothing polarizes a roomful of otherwise friendly runners more than the listening to music while running debate. Take a side. Fine. Someone will still always be pissed off.
Whether ’tis Nobler in the mind to suffer
The Pains and Sorrows of outrageous Monotony,
Or to take Arms against a Sea of boredom,
And by opposing with Music end them…
I have been on both sides of the debate, so I feel like I can offer a bit of rationality, a trickling of reason, LOGIC. When I first took up the sport, it was in order to get fit. I had no other reason. I was tired of the frumpy, lethargic piece of apathetic crap I had become, and the quickest way to turn my physique was through running. I had dabbled in it during my youth. My father was a runner. I knew it was possible.
But as much as I looked forward to change, I was equally terrified of the actual work I knew it would require. From what I could remember of my adolescent/teenage running days, I knew that, for me, running was a) boring b) painful c) BORINGPAINFUL.
So from the beginning, I used music to get me out the door, to keep me going. And it worked.
But a funny thing happened on the way to getting fit: I FELL IN LOVE WITH RUNNING.
Hooked. Addicted. I couldn’t get enough.
It wasn’t boring, it was exciting! It wasn’t monotonous, it was exhilarating! And sure, sometimes it was painful, but most of the time it left me feeling FANTASTIC.
For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.
Before I knew it, the music I used as a crutch to get me going in the morning became unnecessary. It became an obstacle to my complete running experience. I found that as I grew as a runner, the music became a distraction from the constant mind/body checking-in I felt was necessary for my own well being. I began leaving the iPod home on my easy recovery days.
Those easy, music-less recovery days morphed into days of great discovery. Without the Rocky theme setting the cadence or the trance melodies keeping me company, I found myself noticing interesting things along my route: the old lady watering her flowers, the taxi driver setting off for a long day’s work, the air temperature relative to the humidity. Not to mention the countless injuries/wrecks/collisions I avoided with traffic, people and dogs.
That was just the start.
Nowadays, I don’t run with headphones on at all. To be honest, the idea repulses me, but only because I enjoy experiencing the run with all my senses. Having lived most of my life previous being completely unaware of all that surrounds me, I don’t ever want to live like that again.
But that’s just me. That’s my opinion.
I will never chastise those who prefer the music-aided run, just like I will never chastise those who prefer minimalist shoes, or shin sleeves, or pink shorts. Do what ya gotta do to experience the run as best you can.
And thus the Native hue of Resolution
Is sicklied o’er, with the pale cast of Thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their Currents turn awry,
And lose the name of Action. Soft you now,
The fair iPod? Nymph, in thy tunes
Be all my sins remembered.
The run is what is important. The run is above all else.
*Footnote*
In racing situations, I will say that being aware is a responsibility that falls upon all of us — the music-aided and the music-less. If one can be aware of his/her surroundings during a race while wearing headphones, then that’s great. But if someone spits on me one more time having no idea I AM RIGHT BEHIND HIM because he is zoned out to Led Zeppelin, then I’m gonna go all Zapotek and stomp on his ass.
Going the Distance: Hypersensitivity As Injury Prevention
As a 32-year-old runner, if I’m going to go long and far often, I need to be in tune with my body. It’s important that I understand and know its capabilities and its limits. I don’t have much room for error. I can’t screw this up because I’m one of those runners — the addicted type who has to do it to survive. You know, the runner you know whose sanity CANNOT AFFORD injury.
Serious injury means serious time not running.
And that is unacceptable!
I know because I’ve been there.
This past spring, after a few months of careless overtraining and a blatant disregard for my body for the sake of doing something I probably wasn’t ready to do anyway, I had to sit my running addicted ass down.
For six weeks.
No running. For six weeks.
I swam. Hated it. I biked. Hated it. Oh, and I pouted too.
The problem is: NO ONE LIKES A POUTY, INJURED RUNNER.
After that, I made it my mission to stay healthy first, consider performance second. And it’s working.
In fact, I am recognizing twinges and pulls and knots — all possible warnings of injuries that could come without immediate action. I am understanding my body in innate, primordial ways. It’s like being aware. I’m becoming conscious of what is going on.
Also, the following:
I avoid NSAIDS except for after really hard races where I’m expecting 3-4 days off from running for recovery.
I ice everything. If it even HINTS at aching I ice it.
I massage. Foam roller. The Stick. My own two damn hands. I’m working out knots like a boss.
I eat well. Whole foods. None of that corn syrup shit. No fast food. Just healthy and DELICIOUS stuff. Fish. Rice. Fruits. Vegetables.
I sleep. A lot. 7-8 hours every school night and 8-10 hours per night on the weekends.
And of course, if there’s ever a question that something will get worse if I run on it, I give it a day off. Yes. And I don’t get all pissy about it and act like a goddamn baby anymore.
I finally realized that one or two days off in a row isn’t going to hurt me. And if I think I might need to take a day off, then I just take a day off. I mean, if I even have to consider it then I just do it.
No questions.
I’m doing all this and I’m also getting faster, stronger and more confident about where I can take myself. It’s hard to complain about that.
Running Saves
Running saved my life.
At a time when I really didn’t know how to be happy with myself, I looked to exercise to help me manage my stress, to temper my depression. My dad had always been a runner, so I thought I would give it a shot.
It was my very last hope.
I started out slow. But determined. And it didn’t take long for the depression to disappear, for the stress to never be an issue, for me to know joy and peace for the very first times. Before you could spit, running became synonymous with me.
I am running.
Running is me.
