Isn't it great being here tonight honoring the Rochester Runners of the Year?
Witnessing Bill and Carolyn's induction into the GRTC Hall of Fame? Thank you
for letting me join you. I've never spoken like this before but I feel very
comfortable. I knew I would for I am in the company of kindred spirits. Do you
recognize the feeling? Being in a room full of runners? I remember reading
something that the running philosopher George Sheehan once wrote about that
sentiment. He said that telling him someone was a runner told him more than
anything else could have about that person. Whether I know you personally, by
sight or reputation, whether we are old or not yet friends I find comfort and
validation in the fact that we share this appreciation of running, our play
involves exercise, using our bodies and minds and imagination moving towards
and doing that which we love. We have so much in common with one another,
whether we run track, on trails or road. Whether as runners we finish at the
front or back of the pack. Whether we have our efforts timed with a stopwatch
or with a calendar or not at all. Our shared experience is that we run
and recognize the value in that effort. I agree with what an ultrarunner and
zoologist from the University of Vermont, Bernd Heinrich, thinks about
running. In his book "Racing the Antelope" he explores the human
desire or need to run. He writes, "The human experience is populated by
dreams and aspirations. For me the animal totem of these dreams is the
antelope, swift, strong and elusive. We chase after the antelope and sometimes
we catch them. Often we don't. Why bother? I think it is because without
dreams antelopes to chase we become what a lapdog is to a wolf. And we are
inherently more like wolves. The communal chase is part of our biological
makeup. We are "hardwired" to run".
Through running and exercise we strengthen muscles, hearts and lungs. But
there are other exercises performed each time we practice our passion and run.
Optimism, honesty and acceptance are three that come to mind. This experience
we share involves struggle and reward and it demands that we begin believing
that we will finish. We must be honest with ourselves. A good run or race is
one in which I do the best I'm capable of, only that. Some degree of pain and
discomfort will have to be accepted. On a good day I can appreciate the
challenge. Lessons will be presented. The finish line is not a given, it's
earned. Many of you inherently know this stuff. I on the other hand am a slow
learn. I'd like to share with you how I came to understand the real value of
running in my life. Running has made my world bigger. It was Rochester runners
and members of GRTC who first planted the seeds of fruitful running in me.
I'm an accidental athlete. One lucky enough to stumble into this by running
away from a two pack a day cigarette habit. Running daily was the only way I
managed to put them down. And that's just one wonderful gift I've received.
9 1/2 years ago I stopped smoking and began running. And as soon as I was able
to run 5 miles without throwing up on my shoes I entered a local
race. Then another and another, I met some of you then at the Freezeroos, at
the Shamrock and Lilac events, at Corn Hill, at races in Irondequoit,
Fairport, Pittsford, and Rochester, in LeRoy where I live. Middle of the pack
at best was where I finished; yet I took pride in my efforts. I considered the
shirts that came with race entries to be badges of accomplishment. I read
about famous runners, about Pre and Bill Rodgers, studied the how-to books and
magazines, thrived on Sheehan's "Runner's World" column. When I ran
I felt better but never wondered why. I took it for granted. After a couple of
years of 5 and 10K's, the marathon beckoned but not before my introduction to
Bill Hearne and his posse in Bushnell's Basin. With them I was offered an up
close view of runners not intimidated by races 26 miles long. They dragged me
up and down every hill within a 12-mile radius of the Oven Door Bakery and
taught me the value of long distance and hills but more importantly lessons in
camaraderie and friendship, they showed me how to feed off of and revel in the
goodwill and energy of others engaged in like pursuits. Now it was races
beginning with the names of cities - Buffalo, Columbus, Virginia Beach that I
entered but never Boston. I worked hard but never came closer than 10 minutes
to the required qualifying time. I tried and tried yet this prize was denied
me. A valuable lesson in acceptance was being offered. But I didn't know that
then.
I continued to pursue that which I thought would certify me a real runner.
Training hard and long, truth be known I probably could have worked harder but
didn't. In the midst of frustration with the Boston chase I stepped back and
asked myself some questions requiring honest answers. I was running more and
harder but enjoying it less. The favorite part of the running week came when
doing the ritual "long run" on weekends leading up to the marathon.
To be perfectly honest with myself I enjoyed this long time on my feet much
more than the marathon itself or it's aftermath. What to do with this
realization? On a summer's day and night I watched our own Greg Brooks perform
what I thought magic as he ran over 100 miles in 24 hours on a 400 meter track
at a U of R during a fundraising event. How odd I at first thought. The more I
watched the more intrigued I became. I wanted to know how the world looked
through his eyes during and after something like that. Seems that I was hooked
on ultrarunning before I even began.
I took the lessons learned on the roads around Rochester, your examples in
optimism with me as I ventured into this foreign world of the ultramarathon. I
began to enter races where the distance began where the marathon stopped. Now
the rewards that came with my running where found in the woods and along the
banks of the Potomac River and on the Civil War "killing fields" in
Virginia, near Manassas and Antineim. There was plenty of time during these
races for making new friends; they showed me what they thought distance was.
They exemplified perseverance, strength and determination. Their distance
allowed for time spent inside my own head. I began not to be afraid of going
there. As one hour added on to the other during these long races I was
introduced to the man I was and to the man I was becoming and I began to like
him. More reasons to feel comfortable in the presence of runners. I was being
shown the value of hours spent chasing the sort of spiritual food that the
ultramarathon offers. I found the glow that meal provided sustaining, more
than worth the effort. At 40 years of age this was nourishment I desperately
needed.
Just as there is often a progression once a runner from the 5k races to the
marathon, in the world of ultramarathon it's the move from 50k to 50 miles
then 100 miles. Why 100 miles? It is a really nice round number. Maybe it was
just an attempt to know what Brooks knew. Woodstock, Vermont is where I lost
my 100-mile virginity. On a July day and night in 1998 at the Vermont 100 Mile
Trail Run I used 29 of the allotted 30 hours running and walking the course
containing over 14,000 ft of climb and an equal amount of descent. The world I
saw that day, night and next morning was one full of wonder. I met and ran
with men and women aged 19 to 75, some from as far away as Japan, Germany and
France. Yes, there were wonders to be seen and felt. Like the tuxedoed pianist
to playing his instrument under a canopy 1/2 hour before the race. What an odd
contrast that was to the smell of Ben-Gay in the air and the eccentric and
eclectic group of runners waiting at 4 a.m. for their journey to begin. Once
again optimistically I had entered an event. It was faith more than any
training that would assist me most. Faith in my Higher Power and in the good
will of others. A friend of a friend would meet me just before nightfall, at
the 68-mile mark and act as guide and pacer throughout the night. This
gentleman, Dan Wittemore has become a mentor and friend but before that July
evening all I knew of him was that he was a runner. That was all I needed to
know. In his care I moved forward when it seemed more logical to stop. His
gentle coaxing and honest assessment of my performance and chances of
finishing helped me find the required inner strength. This was the man who
showed me the importance of looking about at the world through which I was
traveling that night. He taught me to appreciate that altered state I found
myself in and when the second dawn of the race greeted us he had me stop and
witness that sunrise and remember it. I did and I do. 50 yards before the
finish line my new friend stepped aside, off the trail and bellowed to those
waiting, "Look! Here comes a 100-mile runner!" The people there,
many of them runners finishing hours before had waited and they acknowledged
my effort. Stepping across that finish line 100 miles from where I'd started,
wiping tears from my eyes I thought..."Peace." It felt so very good
and right.
That was the first time that I was lapped by the sun, but not the last. I
liked these ultrarunners. Although their practice of running might seem odd,
I realized that they were not foolish; they were aware of how tired and cold
and hungry and frightened and discouraged and disorientated and how possibly
injured they might become. They knew that they would face great physical,
mental, emotional and possibly spiritual challenges as they made their way to
the finish. That was what they were racing against. That was their challenge.
That was what I admired in them.
Running has helped me reeducate my mind and spirit and helped ease my way into
middle age. As I mentioned earlier I am a slow learn and it took lots of time
and distance for me to begin to see some of what Sheehan meant when he wrote
that, " the runner need not break four minutes in the mile or four hours
in the marathon. It is only necessary that he runs and runs and sometimes
suffers. Then one day he will wake up and discover that somewhere along the way
he has begun to the see the order and law and love and truth that makes men
free." Soon after that first long race I began trying to apply some of what
I learned on the trail to my real life.
I've been shown so much while long distance trail running, How can I adequately
describe watching two sunrises, of twice seeing morning's fog lifting from the
Shenandoah River Valley, later a sunset, and a moonrise all during one race?
Throughout the night lovesick whippoorwills serenaded from both sides of the
rocky single-track trail. Night running in the northern Ontario forests wolves
were heard off in the distance howling at the full moon, calling to one
another. Other running memories include sights of meteors raining down towards
earth, and of bats darting in front of my face, feasting on moths and other
insects drawn to the lights I wore. I was in Ohio, under a cloudless star
filled sky last June when the space station was seen moving across the Little
Dipper. In the Haliburton Forest we were issued bear bells and asked to wear
them so as not to surprise and startle large forest residents. I find nature's
experiences like these meaningful and humbling. I believe there's great
strength in humility.
The ultramarathon showed me that there is no magic without honesty. I took a
case of plantar fascisitis with me to a race in Texas and was consigned to the
role of non-finisher and spectator after 60 miles. There's no room for BS on
these trails, in reality much less room for it in my real life, sometimes I
recognize this character flaw in me when it surfaces, others times I don't.
But I never used to see it at all.
Through running I've learned to laugh at myself and see value there. I got off
trail one night during a race and found myself standing, then sinking into a
very large mound of cow manure. I'd pull one foot up and the other would go
down, only deeper. As I tried to tread cow-pies I wondered just how deep this
pile of crap was and whether my obituary the next day would read,
"Western New Yorker drowns in manure".
One afternoon I ran along a stream leading to a gorge cut eons ago by
retreating glaciers. 10 hours into this race I was engrossed in the beauty
around me. These trails were so secluded, so enchanting that I expected to
stumble across leprechauns or fairies playing on the slippery banks next to
the meandering streams. I had just climbed the Wall, an embankment made of wet
sandstone and interwoven with the roots of an ancient hemlock tree. The soil
surrounding the root system of this old tree had been washed away leaving 15
foot of exposed roots that was used as a ladder while climbing out of this
magical little valley. So hypnotized by the sheer majesty of the scenery that
I didn't notice the half dozen teenagers playing in the water. As I approached
one asked if I would take their photograph while they waved from behind the
waterfalls. What? Didn't they realize I was engaged in a race? Couldn't they
see the spirit-filled man I was busy talking to my God? No they didn't. They
were kids busy celebrating life in their own way. And I could help them by
being a little less selfish and self-absorbed, by just changing my point of
view. It only took a couple of minutes for them to pose and smile pretty then
I was on my way, much more richer for the experience of the valley because of
them.
Watching an ultramarathon has got to be as exciting as watching paint dry.
It's hard for my wife Lisa to see what I look like coming back after a day and
a night in the woods. While alone on the trails I think about those I love
most. Have any of you ever experienced running on a cool day then passing
through a spot of warm air? Feels nice doesn't it? A much more spiritual
experience than passing through warm spots in a swimming pool. One autumn
afternoon during a race I was treated to that phenomenon. It was chilly and
we ran deep in the forest and at one point streams trickled down the mountain
on both sides of the trail filling my world with stereo effects. It was a
bright and cloudless day and that sunlight danced in through the trees
painting the landscape with patterns of gold, yellow and orange. At one point
I ran from the chill of that day into a warm spot. That envelope of warmth
reminded me of hugs and kisses from my beloved. And I smiled then as I do now.
What an unexpected reminder of love. So even when my loved ones aren't there,
they are. At one race just before nightfall my family surprised me as I came
from the woods into an aid station. Imagine my joy seeing them, my daughters
munching on aid station M & M's and drinking flat Coca-Cola. I put on my
headlamp and jacket, filled water bottles and readied for the night. There was
time enough for quick hugs and kisses, gently and gingerly offered and
received, a function of my aroma and overall appearance and then I was gone.
The kids aged 7 and 9 at the time thought nothing unusual about that. That was
just something that their Dad did. Their acceptance of what I do is so cool. A
gift. I believe it's the same gift of example you all offer your loved ones.
They watch you go out and play, using your bodies, celebrating life,
practicing being good animals. That is what you do. And they know that that is
a good thing.
Trail running is better than a lot of stuff. But sex? Not completely but here
are ten reasons why trail running is better than sex. They are more than a
little bit true.
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Relentless forward motion...just relentless forward motion...
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