Finding The Pace at a New Distance

Running a few races at a much slower pace than I’m used to.

For the likely small group of folks that will end up at this page, I appreciate your taking a moment to consider my thoughts. As often happens to people as they reach a different stage of life, waking up one day disoriented by the current state of affairs has been my experience for most of the last two years. If there are a small number of eyes that will see this page, there’s an even smaller number who will have any concern for the minutia that created that sensation so I we’ll just move along to the hopeful reason I’ve decided to revive an archaic medium and post on my dormant blog. It’s time to learn how to run again.

In the largest portion of the last 20 years I worked as a head cross country and/or lead distance event track & field coach, mostly in the NCAA Division III level. It was a life I greatly enjoyed and the rhythm of a college or high school competition season was the sundial that oriented my annual calendar. For the sake of brevity, all that is necessary to state here is, my leaving that world was not my choice and I fought to stay with all I had left in a very tired soul. Nothing illegal or otherwise immoral happened. One day, I answered a phone call and was informed I did not have a job. No situation is ever as simple as the likely millions of others who have experienced that type of scenario would confirm. This isn’t a tragedy, it’s merely a harsh reality that crushed a part of me that I’m not sure will ever fully recover.

Life moves on. Things evolve. Your place in the world changes. You are, for how ever long you are. Then you are not.

Except, that’s not true for me. I will always be.

Coach.

A group of really kind people that care deeply about my alma mater put me in their hall of fame for being a coach. (You can read about that elsewhere on this site) The relationships and experiences required to accomplish the kinds things that qualify a person for that type of honor impact you for your entire life. A phone call cannot change that about life.

For a solid year I stumbled around, disoriented with no practice times on my schedule. No recruiting calls. No conference or national honor rolls to sift through on long Saturday night bus rides or over Sunday morning coffee. Pockets devoid of receipts for travel expenses. A job where no one knew what a shoe being “super” means. Over 12 months of realizing I lived in a niche world for almost two decades that no longer had a place for me.

Then it happened that an old friend and former colleague reached out about a job opportunity for which I may be qualified. 20 days later I had a new job making significantly more than I ever had in my life. It is very much not a coaching position. The work is good and meaningful and it does help student athletes.

Within a few months after that a few former college runners I’d worked with asked about marathon training and I’ve set out working with them to improve their experience in that endeavor…We message several times a week…A former coaching colleague new to being a high school AD reached out to see if I could help her very overworked cross country coach with their growing program…I was back at cross country practice as if it was my freshman year all over again.

So what then…when you continue existing after something very powerful in your life goes away? Well for me I do what I’ve always done since I found running 25 years ago, I went for a run.

I’m training, now. For a 33 mile fundraiser run you can learn more about in my social media accounts.

This is life in a new stage. I’m still a bit disoriented but I’m figuring out how to dream while also being present-tense. So there is learning the tactics of a new race, a new pacing, a new venue. There is strength in learning to hope again. My new hope is I can encourage you, a coach in your corner of sorts.

I did not start running to win a conference title. I did not start coaching to win an NCAA title. But I’m unwilling to forgo my naïve belief that the best path to achieve those goals is focusing on the quality of the path itself. The work is purifying and holy. It’s worth every step if motives are right. Holding on to that thought, I’m running again to see what’s possible, as George Sheehan once said, on the other side of sweat.

The Right Run for the Wrong Reasons

It would be dishonest to say I love running every time I go out. Some days I flat out don’t want to run and for no other reason, I do not run. And a lot of the time my runs suck. They start feeling awful, get slightly less crappy, but nonetheless, wrap up lousy. But I hit some post run routine stuff and move on. Having run for over 20 years you learn to absorb the ups and downs of running.

Then one day, it happened. I can’t tell you the day or the time or the run. But it happened.

I was out of gas. Like a driver stranded on the side of the road in the dark.

My shoes still got laced up. I was still out on my favorite paths, still running. Yet for the first time in my life, it felt like I was getting dragged behind an invisible tow truck to a destination I had not picked out.

I wasn’t running because I really wanted to or because I had some big training goal that required me to push through the monotony sometimes associated with ambition. The best way it could be described is an analogy from my time as a less than mediocre 1500m runner in college.

Some days, in a big meet, you get put in a heat that is above your pay grade. The whole time you warm up, the final run outs on the back stretch, you know ahead of time. This is going to be bad. If you were to PR by 5 seconds maybe you will be off the back by 2-3 seconds.

The front runners are going to run my 800 race pace the entire “metric mile”. Most of the runners will go out with them. If I go too, i’ll be toast with 500 to go. Truthfully, if my mind reflected the imaginary blue-collar I pretended to wear, it would be a great opportunity to ride that tow truck as long as possible and be proud of where ever that ended up. Likely a good result I could be proud of in the end.

But when you don’t want to be there, the race is over before it starts. When your goal isn’t the same as the guys in the race, when their purpose is to test the limit and you’re just…there. Yeah, that’s not good. You run toward the finish line because it’s the only exit from a room you do not want to inhabit.

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I started running occasionally as a habit in eighth grade. I kept running over the years because I enjoyed it. The challenge, the struggle, the feeling that I can actually do stuff that is hard. And eventually what was once hard, a 4 mile run, a mile run in under five minutes, a college cross country 8k, running every day for 18 months. training for AND completing a marathon, these became normalized and within my capacity.

I do hard stuff because most stuff worth doing is pretty hard sometimes. And as I became a better runner (relative to my beginning), somehow, in ways I’ll never understand but have spent my entire coaching career trying to convey, running contributed to me being a better, more complete version of myself.

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Social Media influencers. College coaching. Strava. I was in a heat with these guys, going some place I never really wanted to go, as slowly and painfully as you can possibly get there.

After over 20 years of running and 14 years of coaching, running became my way of proving something. To someone who wasn’t even watching. Or worse, didn’t even know I existed.

Why did I need to prove my way was better than social media famous runners even though I wasn’t one of them? Why did I need other coaches to think my balance of being an award winner and still finding time to run 30 miles a week, even in season (no one gasped) was impressive? Why did it bother me that relatively new runners were accomplishing “my running goals” (you know runners never have the same goals) because I was “sacrificing” for other people?

While I’m at it, embarrassingly, I even became jealous of dear friends who have successfully raised thousands of dollars for charity while also exponentially exploding into better runners and not surprisingly, inspired hundreds to join their cause.

Suddenly my easy runs were a frustratingly endless cycle of life sucking failures to relax. And of course when you’re in the wrong race the pace will always be too hot to hang on to.

One night, after suffering through a 45 minute “easy” run, I returned to the house and my wife asked me how it went. When I had to pause and admit it was crappy, it finally hit me. For the first time in 20 years of running, I didn’t want to admit it. Running was the worst.

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It’s not the worst anymore. In fact, it’s a lot better than a few months ago. And guess what, I’m in worse shape than I was in October when I ran the best 10-mile race time i’ve posted in 10 years. But who cares.

I look forward to running 4-5 times per week and hopefully my life allows to me to turn two decent years of running into a new 13.1 mile PR this summer. It’s definitely the race I should be running and I want to be there.

It’s honestly really cool if you have a ton of followers that are inspired by your passion and accomplishment. It increases my belief in God that people are able to raise a frigging mega-ton for charity using their running. And I am convinced it’s a good thing for our sport that so many “everyday” runners are using their personas to get freebies or product discounts.

But I put my experience out there knowing maybe a few people will relate and I can encourage them. It’s okay if running sucks right now. It’s okay if you don’t have 11.1k followers or raise $10k (but please do if you have that gift), or influence enough people to get discounts or free stuff.

I know I didn’t start or keep on running for any of those things. And I bet you didn’t either. You know hard stuff sucks sometimes. You know the difference between the normal struggles and when you’re simply in the wrong race. But you are the only one who gets to decide which race you’re running.

Be the runner you enjoy being. It may not be the fastest or easiest way to a better performance. Yet it is the surest way I’ve found to stay true to the sport itself and keep on running.

What Running Makes of Me

"There is no substitute for finding out one's own self, for the personal revelation, for knowing first hand...When I run that happens. The body and the spirit become one. Running becomes prayer and applause for me and my Creator. When I run, I am filled with confidence and the faith that word contains. I can face unanswerable questions, certain that there are answers."

George Sheehan, This Running Life

There is a bend in the West Mississippi River Road just southeast of Downtown Minneapolis. When you head south, the path plunges down over 100 feet of vertical elevation over the course of a third of a mile. The road and accompanying recreational trails pass under the iconic arches of the I-35W bridge that provide motorists passage over the river gorge. As you run along this section of the "Grand Rounds Parkway", it feels like crossing into a new time and space. Though it is over a mile from the origin point of most of my runs, this unintended gateway is truly where my running begins.

The hill provides a dramatic divide between a bustling downtown metropolis and what feels like a separate part of the world. When my legs reach the bottom of the hill, my stride evens out in stark contrast to the choppy steps a long downhill necessitates. With a few final adjusted breaths, my aerobic system, muscles, and frame unite and I'm simply running. Momentarily, after another quarter or half a mile, running begins its work. By the two mile point, before a gradual uphill section rises to meet one of my favorite bridge crossings in the Twin Cities, running has revealed what's truly on my mind.

By the top of the Franklin Avenue Hill, my running has become the truth. All of the things I am at the top of the hill are a reality. The stretch of the achilles, gastrocnemius, and soleus are real. The onset of lactic acid accumulation initiated by my pace is a true or false test of physical exertion. The most pressing issues in my soul and mind have come to the front and I am the sum total of my physical, spiritual and emotional parts.

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Over the years I've paged through a few of history's renowned theologians, philosophers, and thinkers. Kierkegaard, James, Nietzsche, the Greeks, the Romans. reformers, scholastics, romantics, theosophists. Nihilists, positivists, fascists, communists, and republicans. Generals, poets, pastors, professors, farmers, and naturalists. Criminals, heroes, and the editorialists in the local mullet wrapper tribune.

Too much. My mind is only capable of so much inquiry before the questions disable any return on investment. The time required for digestion requires to much space in actual time, of which all thinkers recognize we have so little. Though I continue to seek, the place I've been given to find is while the minutes and miles pass during my time on the run.

There is a point during every run where I am fully all of the parts of my being. I am more than my patellar tendonitis or problems at work or how to potty train my toddler but those things are a part of my experience. And experience tells me the run will come to completion in fine form. Without always knowing it the run has been a prayer to my creator and a celebration of all the things within my current experience. 

As Dr. Sheenan is quoted above, during my run I am a fully discovered self. According to my beliefs and convictions, I see it as a place where an eternal, holy and wise God communicates himself to me. Of course, I recognize that is a statement of inherent faith.

But regardless of spiritually, there remain few things more real than what running has made of me. Every day I head out for a run there will be a moment of honest clarity where the truth is known if only for that moment at the top of hill on the Mississippi River Gorge.