Run Happy

These go to (size) 11.

I am not the first person to make this observation, but one of the most gratifying things about running is that it can be shared between beginners, elites, and everyone in between.  In John Bingham’s words, the beauty of the sport is that it is big enough for everyone.  There is no one right method, pace, running group, or race that has the market cornered on running.  If I want to run with 35,000 adrenaline-fueled happy lunatics, I run the Chicago Marathon.  If I want to run with nobody but my Brooks size 11s, I just head out the door and hit Bird Hills in Ann Arbor, my favorite place to run. 

                                                                                            

I’ve done most of my distance running with the Running Fit 501 team over the past year.  I’ve met incredible people, run roads in Ann Arbor I never knew existed (like Sunset…ouch…or Harvard…super ouch), and learned a lot about myself and what I am capable of doing if I put my mind to it.  The structure and atmosphere of the program was valuable to me this year, especially on those cold mornings when the last thing I really felt like doing was going outside.

A little bridge on my first 10-miler

Reflecting on my running, though, the two most extraordinary experiences I've had (outside of racing Chicago) were essentially solo, and on my own terms.  The first one was my first ten mile run.  I have spoken with many runners since then about my first ten miler, and just about every one of them recalled exactly where and when their own first 10 happened.  It is an important milestone.  For me, it was on a pathway through town that passed right through the exact spot I found myself when I got the phone call about Moira’s cancer diagnosis.  It was, of course, an emotional run on multiple levels for me, and it was no coincidence that I took that route. 

The second most powerful run for me was my first 20 mile run.  I was a solo runner for that one as well, but this time I had my dad alongside me on the bike, handing me gels and bananas and Gatorade, on a similar schedule to what I was planning for the Chicago Marathon, to simulate the race itself.  The 20 mile run was incredible because it was the first time I KNEW I was capable of running a marathon, and because I shared it with my dad.  Growing up, I was never very good at sports, although I was happy to participate.  I know my parents and family are proud of me for many things in my life, but it was a neat experience to bang out a strong 20 miler there with my dad, it made me really happy and optimistic about the road ahead.  Now he is running himself, and I couldn’t be happier to help him on his running odyssey.

It also didn’t hurt that the 20 miles I ran were almost entirely on the beautiful, dirt back roads of Ann Arbor Township.  A2 Township is a community I work for in my day job as an urban planner.  This fantastic community has always put a premium on natural features, agricultural and open space preservation.  I’ve helped them many times in this regard.  During my run I was able to experience the Township in a way I hadn’t before, and I saw…really witnessed…many charming attributes of the rural and natural environment of our area.  You’d be amazed what you see when you ditch the headphones and go where the cars aren’t.  You can easily find peace when you are at one with each gravelly footstep, each raindrop, and every deep breath you take as you crest another hill.

At the NOLA finish for Strides for Hope

Even in racing, for most of us, the event is about pushing yourself and experiencing something special.  In the marathon, I didn’t see too many folks angrily racing each other at the middle of the pack, but I did see dozens of people helping others when they needed it most.  The day was about collective triumph for 99.9% of us.  Even the elites…the first thing they do after they gut it out across the finish line is hug one another.  Running is special in this regard. 

If you’ve read “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall, he details how the epic races run by the Tarahumara Indians are all about the connection to their friends, their heritage, and nature…it’s about honoring the fastest one amongst them and being truly happy for him, even if you’re the guy who came in second after 100 miles of running.  To me, that’s incredible.  It would be like the Yankees hoisting the Red Sox on their shoulders after an incredible game…not going to happen.

Not every run can be a special one, but in my mind, more of them should be.  By shedding the trappings of strict pace requirements, by having only a loose idea of where I will end up running, and by simply enjoying the challenge and triumph of running, I’ve experienced running on a deeper level.  I’ve even grown to love running with less and less gear, and lighter, more minimal shoes so that I can run more the way nature intended and I can feel the ground beneath my feet.

Don’t get me wrong…I’m not saying I’m growing my hair out and heading solo into the mountains or anything.  I’m just saying that, for me, the less pressure, drama, and competitiveness the better.  I still need a training program, of course.  I still need guidance, advice, and structure (and I am getting that support with Marie and P.R. Fitness).  I’m opening my mind to other running experiences, though.  In 2011, you might see me run everything from a trail half marathon to a tiny 5k to the Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon, to a major marathon like NYC or Chicago.  In between, I’ll be looking for new ways to experience running.  Running with my many friends in Ann Arbor will always be a part of that, but maybe those runs will be within something new.  This year, though…I promise to branch out a bit, and cherish every opportunity to have new sensations, see new places, meet new people, and love running more than ever.