This
past Monday was what is commonly referred to as the summer solstice. Upon looking at various Google sites, I found
that the Latin word for this is solstitium.
“Sol” means the sun, and “Stitium” means to stop. It makes sense. It is on this particular day that the sun
ceases to arc into the northern sky as it rises in the east and sets into the
west. By being in this most northerly arc,
based on our Earth’s revolution around the sun, it creates the longest day of
the year. It is opposite of the winter
solstice, and the shortest day of the year that I wrote about in December
(click here for the link to that entry: Winter Solstice). So, from this day forth, until the end of this
year, the days will now grow shorter as the rising and setting of the sun sinks
towards the southern horizon. This
solstice coincided with a full moon, something that had not happened for
seventy-some years. This month’s moon is
known as the strawberry moon, and coupled together with there being the most
amount of sunlight; it made a perfect recipe for a day-long adventure. I decided to go trout fishing on a favorite
creek two hours north, in the middle of Wisconsin.
After
Cindy and I celebrated a fine Father’s Day with our parents and family, I began
to prepare and pack. I finished early
enough that I was able to get to bed at a reasonable hour; at least it was
reasonable compared to past standards. After
sleeping for about four hours, I started to stir. I tried to lay back down, but inside I knew
it was a done deal; it was time to rise and head to the North. I got up, dressed, and packed my cooler with
food that I had gotten ready beforehand.
I was out the door by 3:15 and only stopped once to fill up with gas in
Janesville (it was cheaper there by six cents a gallon). Passing Camping World northwest of Madison,
around 4:20, I saw their huge American flag.
I wondered how much that thing weighed.
I wondered if there are bigger sized flags than that one. It certainly is patriotic, and in lieu of
some of the things going on in today’s world, I like it. I’d like to think that I recognize it for all
it stands for and represents (usflag.org).
Heading North into the Light
I
continued north and arrived in the gravel parking lot by 5:23. I was pretty sure I would have the area to
myself, and I did. I got my supplies
laid out, got into my waders and boots, and began the hike soon after. I did stop before plunging into the brush, to
apply a coating of bug spray high in DEET.
I always hate to put bug spray on, and have been known to endure (bug
spray-free) some pretty crazy situations, where the mosquitoes and deerflies
would drive most people mad, but until the wind picked up a bit I decided to be
proactive. I chose an entry point just
beyond where I’ve gotten in before; expecting that over the course of the next
few hours I would work my way upstream and back to my Jeep. I was in the water and making my first cast
by 6:15. The sun was just cresting the
tree tops, but shadows remained on the bends.
Deep,
dark bends exist in this section.
Although the water was cloudy for some reason, with patience and stamina
I made it through, and back to the bridge near where I had parked. I didn’t catch or see anything huge. I have fished a lot of little creeks and have
been surprised by the size of the fish that have come from them. For that reason I’ve convinced myself that
big trout exist in this creek, because there is a lot more water
available. What I caught were nine brown
trout. Their sizes were: 9, 14, 6, 7, 10,
11, 9, 7, and 11 inches. Nine fish for
about six hours of fishing. It was not
great, but enough to keep me going; there was always hope up around the bend. I kept the 14 inch brown and released the
rest. I was pretty whipped when I crawled
out of the water, but after eating my lunch (sandwich, yogurt, and a chunk of cheese),
and resting a bit by sitting on the back of my Jeep in the shade, I recovered
enough to have another go at it.
A Fourteen Inch Brown Trout
With
my waders still on, but pushed down to my feet, I decided to drive a few miles
northwest to a narrower, headwater section of the same creek. It was midday now, and I thought that with
the clear, sunny skies, I might have better luck in this more wooded, enclosed,
and shady section. I fished for three
more hours; rumbling, tumbling, stumbling, and bumbling in a tangle of brush. I managed three more fish; two nine inch and
an eleven inch brown trout. I released
them all. It was a lot of work and my
patience was growing thin as my fuel tank neared empty.
Coming
back through the woods to where my Jeep was parked took the last of what I
had. I took my waders off, put my stuff
away, and ate what I had brought for a dinner (brat, apple sauce, and
crackers). I then drove back to my
original spot where I had started the day, after checking out a few other spots
I may be able to fish in the future. I
needed a nap and so I parked in the gravel lot on the west side of the road. This way the towering white pines would
provide me with some shade. I rolled the
windows down, propped open the rear hatch of my Jeep, laid my sleeping bag out
at an angle in the back, and proceeded to lay face down and fall asleep to the
sound of the breeze in the pine boughs.
It was the same breeze that had kept the bugs at bay all day. Later my wife asked me how I can sleep like
that when I’m out in an unknown area, and all by myself. I’ll admit that I’ve thought about that
before, but like the advice most parents give their kids who are afraid of
something, “They’re more afraid of you than you are of it.” I’m not sure how much that helps squelch a
child’s fear, but I guess I assume most people wouldn’t approach a Jeep parked
in a lot with the windows and backdoor open and bare feet sticking out of
it. I guess the site of what I must look
like to people who might nose around, helps ward off the riff-raff. Plus, I wake to most noises I hear. I’m usually so tired by that point, however, that
I really don’t give a rip if someone happens by; it’s exhaustion through
elation because I’ve had the chance to do what I love to do.
I
slept for an hour, and then groggily rose and started getting my gear together
for an evening outing. I texted my wife
to let her know what was going on, and that I was trying to muster the energy
to get back in the water one more time to fish the shadows of dusk. In doing so, I thought about having to drive
back in the dark verses arriving back at home as it became dark. I decided to call it a day. It was 6:30, so I’d been out for over twelve
hours that day; this longest day of the year.
I stopped for an ice cream cone before I got back on the highway, using
change from the center console of my Jeep.
I arrived home a little after 9:00.
I had started the day before the sun was up and finished after it had
gone down. It was a great day to
celebrate the stoppage of the sun in its most northerly path; the summer
solstice.
“The Old Walking Song” sang by Bilbo Baggins as he left the Shire
The Fellowship of the Ring – J.R.R. Tolkien
A
week ago right now I was feeling pretty good, and on the final push to finish
the “Ice Age Trail 50;” a fifty mile ultra marathon on the Ice Age Trail in
Wisconsin’s Southern Unit of the Kettle Moraine State Forest. The morning began at 4:00 a.m. when I got up
and went through my prerace ritual and preparation. The entire family of Cindy, Todd, Jodi, and I
left the hotel in the dark and were at the start for the race by a little after
5:00. The lot was filling steadily as
runners and their crews began filing in; just north of the corners known as La
Grange. I had picked up my registration
packet the night before, complete with a long sleeve shirt, race number, and
timing chip. Since it was my first
ultra, I had splurged and also bought a new hat with the race logo on it. The hat only cost $10 and I figured it could
become my new trout fishing hat, as my old Primo’s hat slowly disintegrates.
In
temperatures somewhere in the mid to upper 30’s, I got out and surveyed the
starting area.I used the bathroom and
then came back where the rest of the family was waiting in the Jeep trying to
stay warm.We laughed, and joked, and
although I was amped, I felt as though I was about as relaxed as I could
get.When I headed back out a second
time, I put the bags I had prepared the night before onto the tarps labeled for
drops #2 & #3.These were set
stations where they would take our bags to have ready should I need their
contents.I had filled mine with items
such as energy gel packs, a baggie filled with my homemade energy bars, and
band aids (to cover possible blisters).In addition, I threw extra socks and my newer shoes in the #2 bag.In bag #3 I added as extra shirt and
shorts.As it turned out, I only used
two items from these two bags as the aid/fuel stations they provided were
fantastic; but it was nice to know I had back-up just in case.
I didn’t prepare anything for drop site #1
because this location was at the start, after a nine mile loop, and I was going
to see my family there anyways.After
putting my bags down, I recognized and talked to someone I knew who happened to
be running the race also, and then came back to where my family was waiting at
the head of the parking lot.From the
comforts of the Jeep we watched the comings and goings of other runners as they
prepared with nervous energy.Finally,
on my last outing, I got out and stretched, used the bathroom one more time, met my family, and made my
way to the start.Runners gathered as
the race director talked from the top of a ladder.Someone who was on their way to work that
morning sang the National Anthem, strong and beautifully; so much so that the
vocal chords alone could have carried you over the first five miles.The time was 6:00 a.m. and it was time to
begin.
These
are the things I remember. These are the
things I can put into words. The next
eleven hours are a slight blur, and hard to describe. How can I give the race it’s just due? How can I pay respect to something you almost
need to experience to understand?
Suddenly
the race was on as I began a surreal journey.
I had decided to bring my phone so I could document portions of the run
and try to capture snippets of the day.
I began by taking a video while running under the start banner. At the same time I was trying to start my
watch. The first nine mile loop we ran
clockwise on the cross country ski trail.
It’s a bit wider of a trail and the land was beautiful with continuous
hills and vistas. I eventually hooked up
with a guy named Dan Haight from the Cincinnati area. We talked and visited as we ran the 2nd
half of that loop. He had run a few of
these types of races before and does triathlons as well. At one point some sun screen I was carrying,
worked its way up and popped out of the back of my pack. I wouldn’t need it on this day, but a lady ran
it up to me none-the-less.
After
looping back to the original start, Dan and I said good-bye and parted
ways. I decided to peel some layers now
that I was warmed up. I took my shoes
off and removed my running tights. I
kept on my calf sleeves as I retied my shoes.
I also removed one of my long sleeve shirts. The articles that I removed, I gave to my
family. At the same time Dan Sears, a
friend from church who was running the 50K that was soon to start, said I was
doing great and that his son Tyler was just ahead of me. I said my good-byes and took off again. There was something much more relaxing about
this process. There was still a feeling
of needing to move along, but I didn’t feel frantic. I
ran on for roughly another mile and a half until I arrived at “Confusion
Corner.” I turned left and made my way
down and onto the Ice Age Trail; a single track path, winding gradually to the
southwest. As I passed through the
groves of white and red pines I filmed myself again; so far, so good.
I eventually caught up to Tyler and we talked
for a while before I moved on. He was
nursing an IT band along as he recovers from a different 50 mile run that he
had completed a few weeks ago; all in preparation for a 100 mile race in the
fall with his Dad.
My
family met me at the next station/road crossing near mile 13. I waved, talked briefly, grabbed some food,
and had the workers add some water and HEED to my bottle (I always mixed it ½
and ½ when I needed it refilled). The
foods I tended to grab probably sound slightly bizarre as I list them
separately, but it’s what I craved. I
usually ate a few chocolate chip cookies, maybe an Oreo, one or two squares of
a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (cut into quarters just like Mom did back in
the day). For salt I always had a dill
pickle (I loved those!), and a handful of pretzels on my way out.
Soon
after that I caught up and talked to Jason whom I knew and had talked to just
before the start. I moved ahead after a
few miles and ran with a group along the ridge above Lake La Grange. Two people were in a canoe fishing the
shoreline. It looked peaceful and I
could only hope they were catching something, for although I was comfortable,
they had to be chilled. It was there,
around the fifteen mile mark, that the lead guy went zipping by us like a deer;
having already reached the end of this section and turned around. It was pretty incredible. Most of us ran the straight-a-ways and downhills
while walking the uphills; he wasn’t. It
was about 2 hours and 45 minutes into the race and he was already at about the
27 or 28 mile mark! Unlike a road
marathon, the terrain was crazy cool, and full of roots, rocks, and ruts; plus
he had to dodge all of us. I will say
that almost everyone was cordial and we’d have a quick word of encouragement
for each other as we passed other runners.
At this same point the inside of my left knee began to hurt. I tried stretching out my left leg when I
took a break, and pulled my calf sleeve up as far as I could to try to support
it. I began running in front of a guy
who lived near Milwaukee and worked at a recycling company south of the city. I told him about our environmental club at
school and some of the things we’ve done.
Unfortunately I didn’t get his name, and I don’t think I’d recognize him
as I only caught glimpses of him while he was behind me. Our conversation helped distract me from my knee
however.
I
passed the drop bag site#2 at aid station #5.
I was 17 miles in and doing ok.
My family was back at the hotel getting breakfast at this point, but
would rejoin me at this station when I returned.
My Beloved Crew
I grabbed some food and continued on. I believe I had one of my energy bars and a
Hammer gel through this stretch. I also
referred to my bib several different times.
I had my two preset mantras written on it; plus a third I had added from
my friend Scott Rogers (with an adverb as to how I would meet that
struggle). I also added the verses from
Isaiah 40:29-31. It was perfect. I had written it upside down so all I had to
do was flip it up to read it right side up.
Those words kept me going through that next stretch until the turn
around; that and the occasional texts that came through. I never responded to them, but I’d read them
when I could; when I was walking the hills and not as likely to trip, stumble,
or fall. Just before the turnaround I
saw Dan, who I had run with on the first loop, and gave him a shout out. At the turn around itself (a little after
10:00 a.m.), I grabbed some food and sent a text to Cindy to let her know where
I was. At the same time she told me they
were waiting for me back at aid station#5 on Highway#12 where my drop bag
was. I was struggling a little still,
anticipating my knee continuing to be sore.
A guy was dressed in an overcoat and a squid hat with a fake beard and
mustache; yelling at us from up in a tree.
It was pretty funny and I laughed before continuing on.
At The Rice Lake Turnaround
Along this return route I could see the
people behind me, and so I focused on encouraging them. I also made the decision to change out my
socks and shoes when I got to the 26 mile mark and the station where my family
was. It spurred me on. My newer shoes were the exact same make, and model,
and colors. The silver and blue Brooks
Ghost (8th edition) from the good ole Runner’s Image store in
Rockford. I really like the shoe. I only had about 14 miles on the newer ones,
plus one day of teaching on my hard-tiled science room floor. They were broke in. I likened it in my mind to Jesus changing water
into wine. In John 2, after Jesus did
this miracle, the master of the wedding said to the bridegroom that at most
banquets they start with the choice wine first, and then bring out the cheaper
wine later. But he saved the best until
last. I don’t drink alcohol or wine
myself, but I was looking forward to finishing in my “choice shoes,” and see if
that would help.
The
sun was out a bit, and the temperatures edged up into the 40’s as I came out to
Highway#12.
I waited with the volunteers
for the traffic to clear and made my way over to my family. I grabbed my drop bag, took my shoes and
socks off, put on some fresh Vaseline between my toes and then put on my newer
socks and shoes. It made all of the
difference.
I felt better right away, and ran great on my way back to Confusion Corner. I also got some Ibuprofen from a girl I
happened to pass. I decided to take it
and see if that would help too. I loved
the views on the ridge above Lake LaGrange again, and while running by myself I
sent a few videos to some guys I went to college with, some guys I’ve run with
on Sundays, and one to my friend and roommate from college, Tim Johnson.
It’s a surreal feeling
when you reach these higher miles, as they kind of melt away one after the
other. Although not perfect, it was a
utopia, like living through a vision quest on my feet. I tried focusing on the pathway, the journey,
the scenery, and my motivation written on the back of my bib number. I believe it was in this section that I ran
in front of a girl from the Duluth area.
I joked that if this race was up where she lived, we could ice afterwards in
sacred Lake Superior. We ran and talked
together a little for a couple of miles.
I wouldn’t recognize her though, as I never really saw her. It’s funny how you can share time together
and then move on. Eventually I did move
ahead and she disappeared. I was by
myself again for a while. It was at
these times that I prayed my way through my family and friends; naming each one
individually with specific requests. My
focus would go in and out, but the miles marched onward as I progressed through
those I knew.
I saw my family off
Bluff Rd at about mile #31 or #32. Once
I again crossed Confusion Corner, I ran and eased my way around the side of a
hill before walking up “Bald Bluff.”
That was a crazy hill but it offered a great view. My hamstrings felt a little quivery after
that climb, and the couple of inclines after that. I needed those muscles to stay with me a
little longer. Unbeknownst to me, the
lead guy was finishing at about that same time.
I had just missed seeing him before he turned off this new section I was
on that was heading to the northeast. I
started slowing down in this section of mileage in the mid to late 30’s. My right knee started bothering me as well,
in the same spot it had on my left knee earlier in the morning. I stopped and stretched my legs a little.
I needed to get to aid station #10 and the
turnaround at the Emma Carlin Trailhead.
The skies occasionally spit bb’s of ice pellets as I pressed on. At the Horserider’s Camp (aid station#9 and
mile#37) I sent a text to Cindy and said I was struggling and perhaps needed
some more Ibuprofen or something like that for my knee. They said they were waiting for me. I saw Dan from Cincy as he was heading back
to the finish, and so I called out his name again as we ran by each other. About a half mile from the turnaround I
tripped and almost fell on some gravel.
I grabbed my left hamstring to keep it from cramping, because it felt
like it almost did from the sudden jump to keep my balance. As I neared the turnaround station, the music
they were jamming drew me in. These
people were pumped and I needed that!
As
I came near, my family came into focus; Todd, Jodi, and Cindy. But wait, there was more! Two of my cousins, Brad and Sean, were
standing there grinning too. I could
hardly wrap my brain around the picture I was seeing. I was trying to keep my emotions together as
I still had 10 more miles to run.
I gave
hugs all around, took my Ibuprofen, we posed for pictures, and then I grabbed
some food. At a few of the stops I had
ginger ale. I usually don’t drink pop,
but that seemed to hit the spot. I think
I had it 2 or 3 times, and one of those times may have been at that
station. My family and cousins all said
they would see me at the finish. I took
off feeling renewed, and refreshed like I was at the beginning of the race
again; with no pain in my right knee.
As I passed people
still running into the turnaround, I tried to encourage them and let them know
that the station they needed for energy was just up ahead. I took a few more videos and sent them out;
one to Scott Rogers, one to my teaching team, one to my parents , and one in
general as an encouragement to all who persevere in life; for in life, the
struggle in real. These videos took a
bit of time, but I just wanted to send a few out, and so I did.
With about 5 miles
left, two guys joined up behind me. I
was running fairly strong and consistent at that point. I was literally being drawn to the
finish. I could feel the pull and felt
good. They told me they would just follow
because I had a good pace going. We
walked the hills fairly quickly, and ran the flats and downhills strong;
clicking off one at a time. I stumbled
once more in this stretch, and almost kissed the rocks at my feet, but somehow
held on and grabbed my hamstring again to keep it together. I regained my wits and balance and we continued
talking as we ran. One of the two guys
was concerned about the mileage, and where he was at, because his watch was off
track. Mine had quit completely about 2
hours before that. The other guy and I
assured him that we still had some miles to go, but that we were close. We went up and over Bald Bluff with much less
fan-fair than what it took me to get over it the first time. I made one more video for my friend Tim with
about 3 miles to go, before coming down to Young Road at aid station#8. At that point the two guys I had been running
with said to go ahead, and that they were going to rest and fuel up a bit
longer. I told them I’d see them at the finish
and took off. I knew I was close to
finishing in eleven hours. If I could, I
wanted to try to be under that time.
This section was familiar to me because I had run it a few weeks before
on a practice run. I wanted to run the
hills now too, but still slowed enough to walk the bigger ones and take my
time. I reminded myself that I wanted to
finish. I stuck to the game plan. I passed some people walking who encouraged
me on.
As the finish neared, nobody else
was around me. I saw the crowd, my
family, the mats I needed to cross for my chip time (I almost stopped too
soon), and the finisher arch. I finished
in 10:58:29. They handed me my finisher’s
belt buckle and then I met my family.
My first thought was, “Wow,
I thought I’d be more emotional than this!”
I think some of the edge was taken off when my school had given me a
send off assembly two days prior to the race. The rest of my
emotions were left on the course itself and while seeing my family throughout
the race. That changed, however, when I
suddenly focused in and realized that my Mom and Dad were a part of the crowd
at the finish line. I lost it a bit at
that point. They had seen and been a
part of me accomplishing my goal.
Apparently when they got my video with about 6 miles left, they realized
they could get up to the race from their house before I finished. So they put our dogs (who they were watching
for us) into their kennel cage, and headed up to the Kettle Moraine.
We talked, and
celebrated, and took pictures. We
cheered on a few other finishers, including the two guys I had run with towards
the end. My parents then left. I got some food; a brat with sauerkraut, some
fruit and a scoop of some sort of casserole.
It all tasted delicious. My
cousins then left to head back home. I
was getting chilled, but we waited for a bit with Dan Sears to see his son
Tyler finish. While Cindy was cheering
me on at the 40 mile turnaround earlier, Tyler’s wife and family noticed her
wearing her classic Prairie Hill School jacket (from back in the day). It turned out that I had had Tyler’s wife in
class, and I remembered her family well; a small world indeed.
Out of 372 people who
started the 50 mile race, 296 finished.
I placed 186th, with a little over a 13 minute/mile
pace. Those are the stats, but more
importantly I enjoyed the adventure, I finished the goal and race, and I met
the struggle. I’d like to think I met
the struggle in a valiant way. As I said
in many of the video snippets I took along the raceway, the struggle was real
as life can be for anyone. My struggle
happened to be by choice, but it was a choice made after a lot of heartache,
and training (that I mentioned in my last blog-entry).
People have asked me to
describe the race, or have asked me how it went. Amazingly, some of the details only started
coming back to me as I wrote it out for this blog. I suppose in that way, the writing has been
therapeutic. I liken the decision
making, training, support from family and friends and the many volunteers,
along with the run itself, to something the American runner, Ryan Hall once
talked about in a video I can no longer find.
In it he mentioned this idea called, “Transcendental Performance.” It’s when you do something that enters a
spiritual realm. I like that phrase
because it helps make sense of what I experienced, witnessed, and accomplished. If I had to describe how I felt leading up to
the Ice Age Trail 50 I would say, excited, panic-stricken, painful, sore,
adventurous, emotional, strong, and satisfied.
I put my hope in the Lord, and he put people and experiences in my life
to spur me on. I ran, and although I was
tired, I did not grow weary and want to stop.
I walked but was not faint. He
gave me strength and power on this day to help me finish this section of the
race; this section of my life. If I had
to sum up the experience in one word, I would easily respond, “REDEMPTIVE!” Thank you all; thank you dear God.
See you along The Way…
A great song with great lyrics captures the feelings:
I’ve
written this entry within my mind a million times. Each time it’s a little different, but each
time the theme remains the same. When I
picture what I’ll write I have excellent descriptions, the relevance is clear
and the application is adaptable. My
fear is that I’ll remember none of that once I actually hold my pen to the
paper; when I reflect on the purpose, however, I find the motivation to venture
forth and make the attempt. Each of us
has been given a gift from God. That
gift is a part of who we are, and a facet on the life we’ve been granted, the
life we live, and the life we share. Our
job, our role, and our niche is to do the best we can to live that out. It’s like a seed placed in the soil and
nurtured to be the plant it was destined to be.
On
the brink of turning 50 years old this summer, I have stepped out of the safe,
known and predictable and into something extreme. I wouldn’t call it a midlife crisis. For me personally, I think I’m probably
beyond most of those years; and I’m not sure what that entails anyway. I’d rather call it a way to reflect and
relate to all that I’ve lived and experienced to this point. Some might argue that there are better ways
to do that, but for some time now I’ve been planning to run 50 at 50; to run 50
miles at the age of 50. It’s known as
an ultra marathon; anything over the 26.2 mile standard marathon distance.
After a 6.5 mile run (Sun: 1-17-16) when it felt like -20 degrees
I once heard someone speak on dreams, and while doing so, mentioned the word "Kintsugi." The word Kintsugi refers to
the Japanese art form of repairing broken pottery with gold or silver
“filler.” In the midst of brokenness,
the pottery becomes more beautiful and valuable. God can restore a person in the same way; not
perfect, but healed and renewed.
Running
is one of the gifts I’ve been granted.
It’s a dream that has had its share of achievements and
disappointments. I’ve been warned that I
shouldn’t put all of the aspects of those dreams into the basket of this 50
mile run, as it adds a lot of extra pressure.
That could be true, but I’m looking at this race as an adventure, and
anything that happens through this process will most likely add to the already
growing story.
On an 18 mile run on February 20th
Twenty-five
years ago my friend Rick Sager talked me into running my first marathon;
Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota.
Since that time I have run 14 marathons, and about a dozen 25K (15.5
miles) & half marathons (13.1 miles); not to mention a host of road races ranging
from 5K’s (3.1 miles) to 10 miles. Each
one is worthy of a story and explanation, although I can’t guarantee how
exciting they would be. I will say that
I’ve run close to 20,000 miles since my very first road race back in 1979 (see
my previous blog entry). I’ve run with a
lot of different people at a lot of different places, parks, and paths. When I first started running marathons and
training with Rick, I was just trying to finish and sometimes just complete it
while nursing a nagging injury. By my
fifth marathon I thought I might be able to qualify for the Boston Marathon
(running a certain time based on your age).
The year my son was born I ran Grandma’s Marathon again, on an unusually
warm day along Lake Superior. I missed
the needed time by 7 minutes finishing in 3:17; and that with a major hamstring
cramp and having to walk the last half mile or so into the finish. “Woulda, coulda, shoulda.” I’ve tried since then numerous times and have
either come up short, bonked, cramped, or got injured just prior to the
race. During some of those years of
training I would turn superhuman, and crank out interval runs over miles and
miles with only a couple of a second difference. I was the product of consistency. It was in that vanity that something goofy
would happen though, and I would be reduced to humble nothingness. I always ran the marathons I was training for
anyway, albeit injured and simply trying to finish; a far cry from my original
goal. When talking to other runners, if
I mentioned my half marathon times, they would usually comment by saying, “Oh, you
should have no problem qualifying for Boston.”
Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.
After
Rick moved out of our neighborhood to a nearby town, a new teacher at our
school moved in. It was bizarre that I
learned a lot from Rick who was 13 years older than me, and here was Scott
Rogers, 13 years younger than me and now positioned as a willing running
partner. Gone were the years of a single
ring on our home phone early in the morning as Rick let me know he was on his
way to our house (it gave me 10 minutes to get dressed quick and get down to
the corner). Now we were entering the
era of cell phones and Scott and I would call or text each other to set up our
time to meet and run. We too have run,
trained, and raced off and on together for the last 10 years or so.
Scott & I after running Chicago 2008 together.
I
mention some of these things to say that throughout the process of running
there have been ups and downs and yet I haven’t given up on it. I have been frustrated and angry and
mad. May God bless my wife who has seen
a not so pretty picture of me in those situations; and my Dad, who would let me vent
on the way to some secret fishing spot where I could drown my sorrows in a
creek. I have also been surprised,
encouraged, and excited by the way my running has gone. I’d like to think, in retrospect, that God
has taught me something, and that perhaps I’ve learned. I’ve learned about goals and disappointments,
and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps with God’s grace and mercy, and
starting again by simply putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes that’s all you can seem to muster
while carrying on with life. In case you
care, the history of those marathons look a little like this:
*1992 Grandma’s: Pulled achilles
tendon in training – 3:57
*1993 Grandma’s: Pulled the other
Achilles tendon in training – 3:59
*1995 Grandma’s: Ran a great race
with Rick Sager – 3:29
*1996 Grandma’s: Ran well again, this
time on my own– 3:20
*1997 Grandma’s: On track for
Boston-Hamstring the last mile+ Missed it by 7 minutes – 3:17
*1999 Quad Cities: Ran well w/ Tim
Johnson (cramped @ the end) – 3:36
*2000 Chicago: Bonked and cramped –
4:41
*2002 Milwaukee Lakefront: Ran well,
just came up 11 minutes short of Boston– 3:26
*2005 Milwaukee Lakefront: Started
well & struggled at the end – 3:52
*2008 Chicago: Injured in training
& ran it with Scott Rogers– 4:21
*2009 Chicago: Injured my lower calf
in training & ran it anyways – 4:35
*2010 Quad Cities: Hamstring cramp
after a great start (dehydrated) – 3:42
*2010 Rails to Trails: Ran w/ Brian
Huels-thought I’d bounce back after just a month (I didn’t) – 3:53
Cindy
asked me if I was sure I wanted to wade back through those races and their memories. I said I did.
I felt like I had to confront the disappointments, celebrate the
victories, and see a bigger picture of where it’s brought me to in this present
day. To most people, those races and
times are great. They are, but I also
see some time, and effort, and pain mixed in there. The pressure we put on ourselves, and the way
it affects us, is an interesting phenomena.
If anything, that list shows ebbs, and flows, and a history intertwined
within.
Since
my last full marathon, I’ve continued to run and occasionally race; but no
further than a half marathon. I’ve
instead focused on other things, namely watching and cheering on my own kids
and their running. They’ve had great
coaches that have both encouraged them and challenged them. There is nothing quite like waking up early
on a Saturday morning in the fall, before the sun is up, when we would drop the
kids off at the high school (often at slightly different times) and then come
back home to gather necessary items before heading to a cross country race in a
park an hour or so away. Cindy and I,
after enjoying time together riding in our vehicle, split up along the course
to cheer them on at different points.
Holding Todd after a personal best 17:03
Jodi with Cindy after a race.
It’s cool that although individuals push to run in cross country, they score and support
each other as a team. Everyone
participates at their level and ability, and is an important part of the
group. It doesn’t just happen; the
coaches have done a good job of creating and instilling that climate into their
runners. It’s something Cindy and I have
appreciated. Last season Jodi struggled
through some injuries that held her back; something that I could relate to and
tried to help her with. Todd finished
high school on a good note and ran this past season at college. Although he isn’t going to do that again his
sophomore year, and Jodi still has one more year left in high school, they both
have developed a life-long interest in running.
In fact, Todd and I trained together a majority of last year and ran 3
different races together (an 8K, 12K and half marathon).
Clark Lake 12K (7.5 miles) - 2015 - 53:23
"Last Call 1/2 Marathon 2015" - 1 hr 37 min
It’s surreal when your own kids are suddenly
your equal or beyond; when running or otherwise. Those miles throughout last year propelled me
into this year and were my base for the training I needed for this 50 mile
race. Although running schedules are
available in books and/or online, I find that I do better with more “rest days”
built in amongst my runs. I recover
better, it allows me to adapt to life’s calendar, and it helps prevent injuries
(or gives me time to heal).
Single Track at Rock Cut
Throughout
my base last year, I ran about 650 miles and have about 350 miles in so far
this year. I’ve enjoyed the weekend long
runs on the trails of Hononegah Forest Preserve, Sugar River Forest Preserve,
and Rock Cut State Park. I ran in snow,
on ice, during rain, and on warm spring days.
I sprained my foot several different times (chunks of ice or roots) and
strained my Extensor Hallucis Longus tendon on the top of my left foot. Just when I though I wasn’t going to be able
to run the race, our chiropractor, Rhett Gunderson, adjusted me twice and got
me “back in the game.” I literally went
from not being able to run without pain, to completing a 44 mile week that
included a 27 mile long run on the hills in Rock Cut. That was a huge confidence booster.
After a 27 miler at Rock Cut on 4-9-16
I have other “shout outs” as well, that have
provided good support for me this past winter and spring. I’ve run a few times, and talked a lot, with a new friend, Dan Sears. He
has completed several ultra marathons, and has given me good advice. He’s on his way to running a 100 miler this
fall with his son Tyler. I also get
great service and attention from the gang down at Runner’s Image in Rockford
(Steve, Anthony & Skip), as they keep me in good running shoes. Where else can you “test drive” what fits
best? There’s also the Sunday morning
running crew, who weirdly enough run my old routes in downtown Rockford that
Rick and Scott and I used to log many hundreds of miles on. That Sunday crew is still going to be there
training this summer when I’m on the “flip side” of this race. My family’s support goes without saying, but
I will. It’s a mix of excitement and
concern for me. Luckily my runs have
been able to come at times that haven’t taken away from our family times.
And
so it comes to this. I’ve learned how to
make my own energy bars.
I have now
purchased an “Orange Mud” running vest to carry water and other foods and
nutrients. I’ve run sections of the race
course to familiarize myself with the trails and turns.
A "Trial Run" to test out the course in the Kettle Moraine.
I’ve tried not to think about the run too
in-depth, only because I begin to feel myself getting really emotional when I
do. I’m days away now, but I still have
homework to correct at school and “to-dos” I need to attend to; in addition to
completing this blog entry beforehand.
Once I’m past those things, I’ll be able to immerse myself a bit more.
I’m willingly subjecting myself to this goal
of running, but it’s a goal no longer tied to the expectations of a Boston
Marathon qualifying time (although there is a 12 hour cut-off time). I am running simply to run. I want to enjoy the trails, the woods, the
event, the people, and the experience.
This 50 mile race represents 50 years of my life; many of those years
spent running. The Ice Age 50 Website
A
race is a metaphor for life; you feel amped and sore, strong and weak. Throughout it you do what you have to do to
finish. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27) The race
has its purpose, as running is one of my passions, but it’s so much more when I
think of the people, and events, and experiences that have gotten me here. It is these things that have cultivated me
and prepared the soil for me to plant this idea; this seed of completing a 50
mile race. It’s a gift I’ve been given
from God that includes the ability, the base work, and the desire to step
forward. “The seed I’ve received I will sow.”
(Hillsong United-“Desert Song”)
See you along The Way…
-----
PS-Today the Students
& Staff at Willowbrook Middle School surprised me with an end of the day
assembly on “Perseverance.” It was a send
off for this Saturday’s run; complete with a motivational video and my whole
family in attendance (Cindy & Jodi had both gone to pick up Todd from
college today, as he’s now home for the summer). I was emotional from the start. Luckily I had my back to the bleachers while
I watched the video on a large screen, as I was a blubbering mess. All I could muster afterwards was a raised
hand to say “Thank You.” I wouldn’t have
been able to talk without breaking down.
I still have to run the race, but as I look forward I feel
refreshed. I'm back at my purest form; by that I mean I'm simply enjoying the ability to run. My mantra will be, “Enjoy the
Adventure” and, “Just Finish.” Thank you
all again; it will be a lasting memory.
