As I've been hit by a bad sore throat and not been energetic enough to do any running, I thought this old written piece will be appropriate once again.  Not for racing, but just for getting back on my feet.  Originally written on May 23, 2000, with a nod toward Pere Ubu lyrics throughout

TIME AWAY

The month of May rolled in like soft burning waves of lit gasoline, bringing with it a chance to re-enter the world of trail-racing.  Time away from running had me straddling the fence between a newfound excitement for the activity, and being in the poorest condition of the past ten years.  The decision of entering 7 Sisters or sitting it out was easy.  I had finished the prior eight years, I would attempt a ninth.  Not being in the best form would allow me to go back in time when I constantly faced the reality of just finishing.  

I often think back to those early days, when each course was new and unexplored, and the outcome was unknown.  Crossing the finish line was a moment of joy, unmatched by any other athletic achievement.  Time wore on and my placement rose, but nothing ever matched the fascination of running those courses the first time.  There is something unique and exciting about not knowing.  I started to consider myself lucky to have fallen out of shape, to again have the chance to feel unsure of finishing.

This isn't a choice I would have voluntarily made.  Not with the hardest race first up on my platter, and brutal heat closing in.  Seven Sisters would become my mirror.  I would see my true self reflected or be forced to look away.  Regardless of that outcome, I hoped that I would be taking more out of this event than it would me.

I made a simple decision to move slowly and take a sitting rest whenever needed.  Not a strategy that would normally be used for a race of any type, but it would allow me the best chance of completing the miles.  It would also allow me time to search out the details that so often get overlooked during a trail race.  I would be able to huddle with, and against, the emptiness of that time.  I hoped I would find courage where once none was needed.

Conversation rolls from the tongue of those behind the leaders.  Everyone back in the pack has his or her own idea of victory.  As the sun beat down like a hammer upon us, one by one we mention freely to each other what it is exactly we are hoping to discover about ourselves.  Honesty while this exhausted isn't questioned; anything but the truth would be too much work.  Our dreams not once fall upon deaf ears.  Our secrets don’t slip into the cracks of stones, and our hope isn't lost to the seams of the world.  For each other, we are a good audience.

I hear the desperate collective moan when passing the empty water jugs thrown about the forest floor.  It's possible to actually feel the heartache of the last bunch of people traveling past.  We have all been exposed on this day, we indeed are seeing what we have been meant to.  Last drops of water are shared, freely.  Help is everywhere among the competitors.  It ended being not a race among individuals, but one entire group joined together to merely finish.

In the end, I saw what I needed.  I managed to keep my faith in the forest and with those who enjoy it.  I understood that sometime the apparent small victories are really the big ones.  For this lesson, all the suffering was worth it.