50/50 (24 page)
As I’ve matured over the years, my preference has gravitated toward running for the adventure of it versus the racing element. Yes, I’ve certainly crossed my share of finish lines, though most of the medals and trophies I’ve received over the years are stuffed in boxes in my garage. Somewhere. I much prefer walking out my front door, setting a course north, and running for a few days with nothing more than a backpack and some provisions. To me, that is the ultimate running experience.
I always encourage runners, young and old, to do what they love. Running is as much an art form as it is a competition. Some people love to compete, to count the number of races they’ve finished, to win, to set PRs. Other people prefer to run, just to run, because it liberates their soul and makes them feel most alive. I say, do what’s in your heart. Be true to yourself.
People ask: When are you going to stop running? I like to tell them my finish line is a pine box (that is, a grave ten feet under the earth). Truth is, as long as the fire still burns within my heart, as long as the passion for running and exploration remains strong, I’ll continue running. Running is one of life’s simplest joys; why complicate matters? If I wake up one morning and no longer feel like running, then I’ll stop. It’s as simple as that.
But enough about me. I bet you’re wondering how the lads of the Endurance 50 crew were getting on. Bristol, New Hampshire, population 1,674, for instance, didn’t exactly have a raging nightclub scene, to put it mildly. So how
were
the young men faring? They were happy to report that after thirty-three days, their record was untarnished as well: thirty-three states, thirty-three phone numbers! As they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way.
Mind Over Miles
Day 34
October 20, 2006
Cleveland Marathon
Cleveland, Ohio
Elevation: 1,168'
Weather: 50 degrees; rain
Time: 4:12:34
Net calories burned: 108,358
Number of runners: 50
Y
ou can control many things
as a runner: your training, your nutrition, your shoe selection, and much more. But you can’t control the weather. Mother Nature calls her own shots. Knowing this as well as anyone, I did not expect the weather to cooperate on every single day of the Endurance 50, and I wasn’t disappointed.
We enjoyed a streak of pleasant autumn weather throughout our six-day tour of New England; that ended when we moved west to Ohio. Cold rain fell in sheets from a leaden sky and fierce winds blew those sheets sideways, straight into our faces and bodies, as our group of fifty runners shuffled along the streets of Columbus in a tight, self-protective huddle. The damp chill of the air seeped through my skin and muscles to the marrow of my bones. My legs felt cold, heavy, and stiff. Worse, my joints started to ache, and each foot strike sent a bolt of pain radiating through my system.
My mind sought refuge from my body’s misery with visions of relaxing at home with Julie and the kids—maybe fixing a hot meal together and then settling down on the sofa to watch a movie, down comforter snugly draped across us. It wasn’t just the unpleasant weather that inspired these thoughts. My mind and body were feeling the cumulative toll of running more than eight hundred miles and traveling more than fifteen thousand miles over the past thirty-four days. With only two weeks plus a day left before we rolled into New York for the grand finale of our adventure, I could now see a faint glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, and I was starting to crave that light.
Looking around, I saw that everyone else in the group was suffering as much as I was, and this observation brought me a small measure of relief. Misery truly does love company. All fifty of us shared the same goal: to reach the finish line. This common sense of purpose created a transcendental strength that each of us could draw upon to keep moving forward. The tougher the going got, the harder we struggled together, and the stronger our bond became.
After ceremoniously crossing the finish line and sharing hugs and high fives, we sought refuge in a nearby office building, where an improvised Finish Festival took place. Later, as I walked back to the bus with Robin, Garrett, and the rest of the crew, I passed a corner Chinese take-out restaurant and suddenly experienced a powerful memory from many years ago, when I cracked open a fortune cookie and read the following message:
He who suffers remembers
.
This proverb had an immediate impact on my spirit, and has remained a favorite saying ever since, because it captures one of the reasons I love running. When I push my body through running, as I did in the Ohio stop of the Endurance 50, I suffer intensely. While I can’t say I like the suffering, per se, I do like its intensity, because it fills me with an extraordinary sense of being alive that is truly unforgettable. These intense experiences never lose their immediacy; they become timeless memories, and I can remember intimate details of such events even years afterward.
More than once, I have been accused of masochism on the basis of my attitude toward the suffering of running. I am no masochist. A masochist views pain as its own reward. I do not view pain as its own reward. I merely enjoy the challenge of overcoming the pain and suffering of extreme bodily fatigue in my quest to explore how far the human body can go. The thrill I get from testing my mental toughness on the run isn’t really much different from the kick others get from testing other strengths, from the ability to shoot a perfect round of golf to the ability to express impassioned emotions through music. The harder I push myself in a run, the more satisfied I am afterward. And it’s the same for most runners. Giving a 95 percent effort in an event leaves you feeling a little hollow. But when you’re hanging out with friends or family, drinking water and stretching after finishing an event in which you know you left it all out there, the feeling of pride and accomplishment can’t be beat. You did your best; you gave it everything you had.
I believe all of us have enough mental toughness to achieve the impossible in running—in other words, to run farther and faster than we ever thought we could. Throughout the Endurance 50, I saw mental toughness in men and women, in young adults, senior citizens, and kids, in persons of every ethnicity, and in folks from all fifty states and every corner of the globe. Every runner has the potential for mental toughness somewhere inside. Whenever runners allow suffering to defeat them and consequently fail to do their best, it is not because they lack mental toughness but because, for some reason, they just didn’t have the courage that day to access it.
When you’re running, 90 percent of your conscious attention is absorbed in one thing: resisting the feelings of fatigue, suffering, and weakness that are telling you to slow down and quit. Through the act of running, we can all learn to push farther than we ever thought we could.
As Ken Chlouber, race director of the Leadville Trail 100, is fond of saying: “You’re better than you think you are.”
On the drive to Michigan, my thoughts turned to Julie. I missed her deeply. So I picked up the phone and called her at work, something I rarely do. She’s built an incredibly busy and thriving dental practice, and I don’t like to interrupt her when she’s seeing patients.
Just One More
Personal trainers, coaches, and drill sergeants sometimes practice an effective technique to help their clients access their mental toughness that I call “just one more.” (In the movie
Animal House,
they called it “Thank you, sir! May I have another?”) It works like this. Suppose a trainer is counting a client’s push-ups. When the client begins to tire, the trainer says, “Do five more.” The client struggles increasingly through the next five, barely completing the last one, only to be told, “Just one more.” More often than not, the client is able to do it. I mean, it’s just one more!
You can do the same thing in some of your workouts. If you set out to do six hard hill repetitions, put everything you have into those six. Then challenge yourself to do “just one more.” Or try running as far as you can
out
in one direction, with no way back other than by foot, and when you’re thinking about turning around and heading
back
, force yourself to run “just one more mile” farther (which actually adds two more miles to the total run). This type of mental training builds both toughness and character. The next time Mr. Drill Sergeant pulls a “just one more” on you, hail its completion with a “Thank you, sir! May I have another?”
They got her on the line.
“Hey, Doctor K,” I said, using the colloquial name her staff and patients sometimes refer to her by.
“Hi, sweetie,” she answered. “What a pleasant surprise!”
I proceeded to thank her for all her sacrifices and hard work in making the Endurance 50 a reality. She really had poured her heart into it, not to mention her endless hours of planning and preparing. I was very worried about the health of her practice, given that she had been so distracted with helping me, and I expressed this concern to her.
“Are you kidding?” she said. “All of the staff and most of my patients are following your progress. Everything’s great!”
I’ve sometimes described Julie as part saint, part angel. Now you can see where I get that description.
Day 35
October 21, 2006
Grand Rapids Marathon
Grand Rapids, Michigan
Elevation: 748’
Weather: 51 degrees; cloudy
Time: 4:06:03
Net calories burned: 111,545
Number of runners: 50
Among the fifty runners who ran with me in the Grand Rapids Marathon was the first challenged athlete to participate in an Endurance 50 event. Her left leg had been amputated at the knee, and she ran with a prosthetic lower leg. Not only did this young woman cover the same distance as the rest of us, but she did so with fewer muscles available to propel her forward. I could see determination written all over her face and was awestruck by the relentless consistency and indefatigable strength of her pace throughout the entire 26.2 miles.
I am fascinated by how many challenged athletes get back into sports or become athletes for the first time only
after
suffering an accident. You wouldn’t necessarily expect so many people to respond to setbacks that reduce their physical capabilities by demanding more from their bodies than they ever did before, yet they do, and they are rewarded for it in the same way every athlete is rewarded for exercising mental toughness against physical challenges: with feelings of accomplishment, pride, and great triumph.
Challenged athletes set a great example that reveals the true secret of accessing mental toughness, which is this: You have to want it. The determination we see in these athletes comes from the importance they place on squeezing every last drop of potential out of their bodies. If they are more mentally tough than the average able-bodied runner, it’s because they’ve had to work harder to get there, and they want it more. For them, pushing through fear, discomfort, and limitations in running is really about choosing to live wholly instead of halfway.
Tough Guys (and Gals)
Some runners are especially known for being mentally tough. Three-time New York City Marathon winner Alberto Salazar was legendary for being able to push himself harder than any of his rivals. Current women’s marathon world-record holder Paula Radcliffe of Great Britain has a similar reputation. What makes such runners mentally tougher than the rest? Sports psychologists believe there are many ingredients, including genes and impactful childhood experiences.
I believe that mental toughness also comes from your conscious willingness to push aside pain. You can’t change your genes or your childhood experiences, but you can control your ability to tolerate increasing discomfort and pain when running hard. Building mental toughness really comes down to saying yes with your heart when your body says no, and getting the job done despite the pain.
And there is a lesson here for every runner. After all, running is a microcosm of life. The lessons you learn and the breakthroughs you make as a runner have a way of affecting your whole person. By challenging yourself to overcome your limitations as a runner, you will cultivate inner qualities of determination, focus, and perseverance that will help you overcome limitations in every part of your life. Live as though every step, every breath, is a precious gift. Push yourself relentlessly and learn to tolerate untold amounts of pain. Die trying. It is worth the price.
As one first-time marathoner succulently put it: “I wasn’t sure if I could make it. But then I realized the only way I could fail was if I didn’t try.”
Running Green
Day 36
October 22, 2006
Chicago Marathon
Chicago, Illinois
Elevation: 620'
Weather: 44 degrees; cloudy and windy
Time: 3:28:19
Net calories burned: 114,732
Number of runners: 42,000
O
ne of the most hazardous places
to run is near heavy automobile traffic, not just because of the risk of being struck by a vehicle, but also because of the air pollution emitted by gas-burning vehicles. The main ingredient in smog is ground-level ozone, which is produced when natural ozone reacts with sunlight and human-made chemicals (especially hydrocarbons, a major component of vehicle exhaust). Even more dangerous than ozone is the slew of fine particulates that are also released into the atmosphere in automobile exhaust and are toxic to the human body. Ozone damages lung tissue, causing it to age at an accelerated rate. Pollution particulates find their way into the blood vessels, causing oxidation (free radical damage) and inflammation. Over time, frequent exposure to polluted air during exercise can cause the arteries to harden, predisposing the individual to heart attacks and strokes, just as smoking cigarettes does.