Everything Just Happens

I don't like the saying (cliche?) "Everything happens for a reason." I don't think it does. I think life is far more random than those five words give it credit for.

In its place, I prefer this classic Zen story:

Once upon the time there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

“Maybe,” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.

The point is that stuff just happens and in a lot of cases, we can't do a darn thing about it. What we do have control over, however, is the way in which we react. In the story, the farmer doesn't get overly jazzed about good things happening or upset about bad things happening -- he just flows with the unfolding events.

Now I can say this much: I was not anywhere near as Zen while dealing with my most recent injury. I did a fair amount of whining and feeling sorry for myself.

However, part of the cross-training that I did to reduce impact on the injury was pool running. I can promise you one thing -- running in circles outside doesn't hold a candle to running back and forth in a sub-Olympic-sized swimming pool when it comes to boredom potential (in one session I ran 92 laps). But what I found is that with the water slowing your movements down to a near crawl, it provides a great way to feel, and work on, your stride.

And I'm not sure that I can emphasize enough how important good running technique is. It will help prevent injuries, help you run faster and more efficiently, and, man, it just looks darn purdy...




And it was only because of my injury that I found pool running as a great way to work on my stride and running technique.

Of course, the whole injury thing was also a great reminder to train wisely and avoid overtraining and overreaching. And since I (and I'm sure I'm not the only one!) have a serious issue with constantly pushing harder, faster, and farther, I don't think I can have too many reminders of this. Better still, this time the reminder doesn't look like it will keep me off my feet for long.

So, in the end, there were good things that came out of my injury. Was this because everything happens for a reason? Nah, I don't think so. In fact, I think that if you think that everything happens for a reason then you get lazy and expect something in the outside world will happen to make things peachy again. If, instead, you take something bad happening and find the positive and the lessons, then you can create good from the bad even if the next flop in the poker game of life doesn't turn up aces for you.

Could we say it's all about "Making lemonade from lemons?" Ugh. If you really must pin me down to a cliche then fine, go ahead.


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Hardcore or Stupid?

There's a fine line between being hardcore and just being stupid. And for much of my life I've exhibited a talent for finding that line, stomping on it, kicking it, and then boldly walking over it.

What has this meant? I'll spare you the details of my formative years, but what it means currently is that I've been battling through one injury after the next during my marathon training. Nothing's been serious, but it's been a parade of small, nagging injuries that have meant unplanned downtime during my schedule.

The reason that this is happening is simple and you'll find warnings about it in pretty much any running training book you read -- I stepped up my mileage way too quickly. During my previous half-marathon training program (can be found here, highly recommended), my peak weekly mileage was 35 miles. During my current marathon program (adapted from Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning), my peak weekly mileage jumped to 55 miles. And while there was a chance I may have been able to handle the step-up in mileage, my training also included races, serious speed work, and training on hills.

Hardcore? Possibly, I guess. Stupid? Yes, definitely.

So now, as I write this, my right foot is wrapped in an icepack as I continue to care for a tweaked Achilles -- the third injury stoppage in this training cycle. While none of the injuries held me up for long, they were over-training injuries that were very likely unnecessary. Granted, when you're pushing yourself hard enough to really improve, there's always the chance of boo-boos, but smart training means training hard enough to improve without pushing yourself into unnecessary downtime. After all, it's much tougher to improve when you can't train.

Like I said, it's a fine line. On this particular occasion, I rambled way past that line. Will it be the last stupid training mistake I make? Doubtful. But every mistake is an opportunity to learn.


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Like a Fine Wine...

This past weekend I managed to take first place in my age division at the Las Vegas Susan Komen Race for the Cure. I managed an 18:53 finish -- 45 seconds better than my previous PR. I was still a few minutes (!) off the overall leaders, but I was pretty psyched since it's the first time I've placed in any of my races.

It was interesting timing since I had just turned 30 the week before and had bumped up into the 30-34 age group. It was a fact that wasn't overlooked by many of my friends, who gave me the ol' nudge-nudge, wink-wink and said, "It's not that bad getting older after all, is it?"

The easy answer, of course, is: "Sure!" After all, if I had still been in the 25-29 age group I would have placed exactly fourth (by all of eight seconds).

Of course it's not really true. The winner of the race was a 44-year-old with a fresh time of 15:54 (that's a 5:08 pace!). There was 40-year-old not too far behind at fourth. And while the 5k is a relatively shorter race where youth may still pay off to some extent, as you look at many of the distance runners in the world it's not college-age kids and it's certainly not anyone younger.

At the marathon distance, running great Haile Gebreselassie holds the record with a time of 2:03:59. He set that in 2008 at the age of 35. Paula Radcliffe may have been relatively young when she set the women's marathon with male pacers (29), but she set the "woman-only" record at 31. Matt Carpenter (pictured above) set the record for the brutal Leadville Trail 100 when he was 41. Scott Jurek set the U.S. 24-hour distance record at 36.

Or just take a look at the ages of the top finishers of the Badwater Ultramarathon last year: 30, 38, 35, 41, 41, 42, 36, 42, 46, 40.

Clearly, 30 isn't the end of the proverbial road when it comes to running.


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Running With Giants

Last week I was lucky enough to get to hear Chris McDougall speak in Asheville, North Carolina. For those that don't know, McDougall wrote the book Born to Run. It's kind of hard to describe Born to Run in a nutshell, but it's about humans' natural ability to run long distances, the killer races that take place in remote Mexican canyons, the amazing tribe that runs those races, and a quirky and fascinating cast of characters.

I wish I had written this all down sooner so the highlights hadn't already started fading to the abyss, but let's see what I can cobble together.

More than a talk
The event actually kicked off with a run through some pretty cool trails behind the campus of University of North Carolina Asheville. With a whole bunch of people of varying abilities along for the run, it turned into more of a trot/walk, but it was a nice little showcase of some of the trails that make Asheville such a great place for trail- and ultra-runners.

The most notable thing about the run for me though, was the fact that I was able to grab running great Scott Jurek (quick CV: 3x Spartathalon winner, 7x Western States winner, 2x Badwater winner, U.S. record holder for 24-hour race) for a second. I asked him for his thoughts on where to run my first ultra. He suggested that, particularly for my first, I choose a race on a terrain similar to what I can train on. He did, however, speak pretty highly of the Chuckanut 50K in Washington.

What really jumped out at me though, was just how down-to-earth and mellow Jurek was. He's had a ridiculous level of success in the sport and yet talking to him you'd have no idea -- he's just a cool guy.

Barefoot
A big part of Born to Run is the attack on the shoe industry and advocacy of barefoot running -- or at least more minimal footwear. So not surprisingly, this was covered during McDougall's talk. What I like about his approach (and the others echoed this) is that he stresses that you can't jump right into it. That is, you can't expect to go from a "normal" pair of shoes to the Vibrams and expect to log 50 mile weeks in them right off the bat.



Handling adversity
Jurek spent some time talking about how he handles adversity on the course. I really wish I remember this more clearly, but he basically offered a three-step process:

1. Allow the emotions: You're likely feeling frustrated, angry, or some combination of any number of other emotions. Don't try to fight them. Let them run their course then move on to...

2. Assess: Jurek gave the qualifier that he's a physical therapist and said that there are a lot of aches and pains and other problems that you can fight through and not do any lasting damage. He talked about how he sprained his ankle early on in a 100 mile race and still finished. He pointed out that the swelling provided a natural support for the ankle through the rest of the race. But basically, the idea is that it's very likely that whatever happened is something you can fight through, but in this step you figure that out.

3. Address it: Do what you have to do and fix whatever it is that's going on. Getting dehydrated? Get to some water or pop an electrolyte tab. Flagging energy? Try some food. Blister? Tape it up.

(If you're reading this Scott, I'm pretty sure I messed this up, so feel free to correct me...)

Get excited
One of the really cool things about Jurek is that you can tell how much he loves running. As part of the show he showed pictures from some of the races that he's run. They were alternately breathtaking, cool, badass, and all of the above at once... like this one of him running in Badwater.



Wrapping up his photo show, Jurek gave an impassioned pitch for running ultras, noting that it's his belief that unless you have a serious medical condition there's no reason that you can't do it. And, according to him, it's a heck of a lot of fun.


Special guest
Asheville native Will Harlan was brought into the mix by McDougall. Fortunately I don't have to challenge my memory to recount his contribution. I'll just share the video that he showed:




Surprise!
One of the coolest parts of the evening was completely off the schedule. It just so happened that sitting right in front of me were ultrarunners Mark and Anne Lundblad. Among Mark's big wins are the high-profile JFK 50-miler in Maryland and the 40-mile Mt. Mitchell Challenge. Anne, meanwhile, has also notched wins at JFK (course record) and Mt. Mitchell as well as Mountain Masochist. She was also named Western North Carolina's outdoor athlete of the decade.

Like Jurek, both of the Lundblads were really laid back, very cool, and very helpful. As far as breaking into ultras, Mark suggested that I start with a 50K rather than a 50-miler and echoed Jurek's view that I should pick a race with terrain similar to what I can train on. They both also gave me their email addresses and encouraged me to email them if I had any other questions.

Famous last words...

Since then I've already emailed them, asking about their views on low-profile (barefootish) shoes and using a Garmin watch while running. Mark got back to me quickly and said that they're big on the lower profile shoes, but emphasized that it's important to ease into them. I had been checking out the trailrunners from inov-8 (Mark and Anne are both part of Team inov-8) and Mark recommended that I check out Roclite 295 for a good transition shoe.

As far as using a Garmin, Mark was pretty practical about it -- he said that he used one for a bit, but had trouble getting and keeping a signal in the WNC trails and so abandoned it. His view was that if it seems like it's something that's helpful, use it; otherwise, chuck it.

And lastly...
Since I don't want to make this already-long post too much longer, I'll leave you with this. You may not be on the list of places where McDougall and crew are going to touch down, but fortunately you can still catch him on TED:





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Running in Circles

I was at my sister's house today. Her neighborhood isn't an ideal for running. It's a small neighborhood and it dumps out onto a two-lane country road that locals drive about 80 on. But a rain storm was moving in, which meant I didn't want to take the time to drive somewhere to run.

So I did the only thing I could: I started running in circles. Or, to be more precise, I started running in a sort of crazy y-pattern that got me to one mile per lap. And I ran that path over and over and over again.

I ran up the surprisingly steep little hill right in front of her house. I ran through the straightaway that blasted me with the storm winds that were coming in. I ran by the guy cutting his lawn and endured the sneezing attack that came with each inhale as I passed. I ran past the dogs that were sure I was up to no good. And I ran around the stink of the jenky garbage truck as it slowly made its rounds.

And I did that all over, and over, and over again.

But as the laps wore on, all of that began to fade away and I hit that comfortable zone that I love so much. It didn't matter that I was just running in circles, I still got what I wanted -- I got in eight miles from a training perspective and I hit the zone. 

That zone is one of the primary reasons that I love running. Why? I'd be lying if I didn't say it's an escape. But it's also more than that, it's an access point to the present moment. Thinking shuts off, worrying ceases, evaluating and judging cease, heck, even enjoyment ceases -- you're just there. Of course it only lasts as long as the run lasts (if that long), and then all of the thinking and other crap come bounding back.

It reminds me of one of my favorite movies. In I Heart Huckabees they find the same sort of thing except that they're getting to that place by whacking themselves in the face with a big rubber ball.





Unfortunately it's futile -- as Caterine Vauban points out, even with "the ball thing" you're inevitably drawn back into human drama and suffering. So you get to hang out in that place of a bit, but it doesn't prevent the whole thing from starting over again.

We could drag meditation in here too, because the place you're shooting for there is basically the same. And, just like the running zone and just like the ball thing, you can't hold onto the peaceful place you reach in meditation.

So then what's the point of any of it? Is it just escape? I don't think so. I think by finding that place, no matter how you find it, you gain perspective in your day-to-day life simply knowing that that's there, knowing what it feels like, and knowing that thoughts and worries don't last. Being caught in feeling like thoughts are real and tangible and you and your thoughts are one gives them far more power to overwhelm you. Knowing that they're ephemeral and can disappear completely gives you more power to look through them.

Or so I'd like to believe. Sometimes that's easier than other times. My life, like the run at my sister's, seems to take place in a continuous loop -- peace and simplicity lead the way to worry and complication, which push me towards happiness on the way to disappointment and discontentment, which, of course, leads me right back to the beginning.

What's great about it all is that when you know you're running in a circle you at least have a pretty good idea what's around the corner -- like it or not.


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