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.
