The Big Myth: Running is Boring

I have a confession to make: I am never bored when I'm running. My friends and neighbors, and even some family members, wonder if perhaps I have some strange super human powers that allow me to deal with extreme boredom as I venture out on four hour runs, sans IPod (Um, I don't own one), and manage to return home without somehow morphing into a screaming lunatic from the shear tedium of it all. And yet week after week, year after year, I return, swing open back gate and drag my tired, satisfied mind and body home, seemingly unscathed. 

Clearly there must be something wrong with me.
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The ad in Runner's World for the "Tougher Muddy" series proclaims in large, bold, burning red letters that "MARATHONS ARE BORING".  The "Warrior Dash" promises "The craziest frickin' day of your life". "Spartan Race" organizers explain that: "Spartans believed while on this earth they should achieve one moment of Excellence and understood they might die trying!" (that's not exactly true, but whatever. It sounds good) and they ask: "Are you unbreakable?".  Then there's the "Muddy Buddy" where legends are made: "They were average men...Now they are obstacle conquering, trail running, mountain biking, cape flying champions...watch out ladies." Aside from the sexist message, what exactly are these brave men champions of?  What sort of 'excellence' is achieved? And, no, you are not unbreakable!

Call me a grump, but these sound more like a frat party gone bad than any sort of serious (even seriously fun) competition that involves real challenge and real risk. Marathons are serious fun - that is, they require a fairly serious approach no matter who you are and what your goals may be. And they're fun in a twisted sort of way that can only be understood by those who have been there.
 
But one message seems to shine through with all the "obstacle course" "adventure" races:  Running is boring. Running is so, so very old. We really are beyond all that and we need new, real challenges.  Is this true? What is the appeal of this new breed of competition? Are these races actually targeted at runners, or some other sort of human creature? 
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For non-runners, and some new runners, when they think of running they think: boredom. There you are, out on the road putting one foot in front of the other and repeating and repeating, mile after mile, 180 steps per minute. For a four hour run that 43,200 steps - just steps, and after all that you usually just end up exactly where you started from. The most excitement I get is facing down an aggressive pack of cyclists dead-set on running me into a ditch. Or a car playing chicken with me. Or, perhaps the growling dog that's running loose with a broken chain still attached to his collar. Mostly, though, it's me moving through the world putting one foot in front of the other.

Over my 30+ years of running I am constantly asked: "Don't you find running boring?" Or better yet, the condescending comment: "Oh, I just find running so boring." The implication here, of course, is that I'm such a simpleton that I don't even get bored doing something as inherently boring as running. Well, sorry to say, I have a lot of interesting things to think about - in fact, it's seemingly endless - at least I haven't found the end yet.

One of the problems with running is that it's hard. Putting one foot in front of the other is not on its own that difficult, but repeating it thousands upon thousands of time in row is tough. I believe that people tend to confuse 'difficult' with 'boring; as in, if something feels hard then they think it's boring.  As a philosophy instructor, I see this confusion all the time. Students find the material difficult, so they think that the problem is with the material (it's boring which is why they don't understand it), when the problem is actually with them (they really have no desire to do what needs to be done to understand the material). So with the rising popularity of all these new 'adventure' races, are the glory days of running behind us? 

I posed a couple questions to my Facebook friends (and some real blood-and-bones friends) and asked them: 1) What is the appeal of these "adventure" races? and; 2) Do you get bored running? The response to both questions was overwhelming and vehement.

On question #1 - several common themes surfaced in favor of the new races: "new challenge", "they are different and not boring", "fun", "crazy", "on the bucket list", "it's different", "cross training". For those who would never consider doing an "adventure" race of this type (I am not taking about tough trail races, but "obstacle course" races) the single theme that came through with each response was: I don't want to get hurt or waste my time because my running goals are too important to me.

To question #2 - Most runners who have been running for many years claim they never get bore running. They use their time running to get outside, listen to and enjoy nature, think about stuff they need to think about. One friend responded; "I used to think running was boring until I started running!" New runners or more occasional runners were more mixed, citing the need to have music and new routes - and some 'adventure" races thrown in - to keep things interesting.

So, are marathons boring or are they just really fairly hard? They do hurt. The training is arduous and committing. So, is the appeal of these new 'races' the challenge or just good old fashioned fun. Are the organizers really marketing to runners? Now, don't start calling my an uptight, obsessed runner who takes it all and herself too seriously (though I probably am), but it seems that we are comparing apples and oranges - and the fact remains that maybe, just maybe, these 'adventure races' won't test you the way a good ol' marathon will - or a 5k, 10k, etc. where you really push yourself to your limit when you just want to stop. But I suppose that if these races draw the crowds away from marathons, then it will be easier for the rest of us (runners) to secure a spot. And that's fine with me.

And, by the way, Spartans began training their male children to be warriors from the age of seven. Their culture left nothing of great value behind and it lasted a very short time. They did manage to take down a flourishing democracy - Athens - a city state that, in a span of several decades, managed to create wonders of art, architecture, philosophy, political theory, theater, and, literature. As Aristotle aptly commented:  'It is the standards of civilized men not of beasts that must be kept in mind, for it is good men not beasts who are   capable of real courage. Those like the Spartans who concentrate on the one and ignore the other in their education turn men into machines and in devoting themselves to one single aspect of city's life, end up making them inferior even in that."

Hmmmm. I don't want to be a Spartan and I don't want to live in ancient Sparta. I think I'll just keep right on running.

One Decision Made

Well the dithering and muttering will cease for a bit. As a follow up to my last post, I've decided to let my gut and the little voice inside my head decide.

My little voice whispers ceaselessly to me these days. This little voice whispers to me in the middle of the night. It whispered to me during a 3 a.m. run this past week and later during a 4 a.m. run. It whispered to me while I ran through the heat, humidity, grime and traffic of New Jersey. It whispered to me when I sat gazing out at the runway in Chicago with clouded, sleep deprived eyes while waiting to board my fourth flight of the week. It whispered to me as I looked at my mother, thin and frail from too much poison being pumped into her body. Enough. I am human after all, and this is all just too much right now. I give. I will stay sane. I will stay sane.

So my gut and the little voice say: "Don't run a marathon this fall, at least don't run the Denver Rock n Roll Marathon - run the half instead". But this is not just an irrational decision based on feeling and a completely spent emotional state. There's always reason beneath emotion, the challenge is to unearth the rational in what seems irrational. This race is not a race I'm jazzed about - and it never was. My idea of a good marathon is not one that weaves it's way through an urban environment - unless it's NY or Boston, or Chicago or London. When the RnR folks released the details on the new course this week it looked like a hodgepodge of twists and turns, and heres and theres, and round and rounds, and I could only think to myself - "Eeewwww". Not very inspiring I'm afraid.

So, I have reason and emotion on my side. And though this is not an easy decision to make, make it I have. I do not back out of things easily. I usually take it as a sign of weakness and lack of commitment - a character flaw (of which I have many). But in this case, I know it's the right thing for me - and it's taken more strength to make that decision then the strength required to push on in spite of it all.

I tell my daughter over and over again that her stubbornness is a strength, but it can also work against her if it's not used properly - if she remains steadfast when doing so only hurts her or gets in the way of what she really wants, then her strength becomes a weakness. Well, it's now time for me to take my own advice.

What ta do, What ta do: Thoughts on Goals

Sometimes you have a race or run or a day that changes your ideas of what your goals should be, or what goals you truly want to pursue. This happened to me recently and now I find myself walking around the house muttering to myself "what ta do, what ta do". So, I will now mutter here...

Last weekend I ran a sweet little Half Marathon in a fairly idyllic setting. I have to say that the CASA (Spearfish) Half Marathon, in Spearfish, South Dakota, is one of the best kept secrets of the road racing world. No, seriously. This small, very well organized race down a beautiful canyon along Spearfish Creek, is a must run for anyone within a days drive.

I drove up with the family a couple days early to do some touristy stuff - you know, Mount Rushmore, Custer State Park/ The Needles (nice swimming in Sylvan Lake) - and some rock climbing in Spearfish Canyon itself. The town of Spearfish is a great place to hang out for a few days. There are loads of reasonable motels (even some old and clean "motor lodges" that I love for nostalgia sake), great camping at the Spearfish City Park (where the race buses depart from and where the finish is), and bike paths threading throughout the whole town. Oh, and this is important, a new ice cream shop opened downtown the week before we visited.
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Race Day: I am up at 5 a.m.: Yesterday was sunny and hot. Today: cloudy and a little moisty-misty. I Shower, eat a MARATHON Bar and a cup of coffee, pack up my stuff in the dark motel room, and successfully scuttle away without waking my husband and daughter. I walk about a half mile to the start of the race through a still sleeping Spearfish. When I reach the park suddenly the whole world is a bustle of activity. Throngs of children move about in packs of brightly t-shirted energy, all jazzed, and a little nervous about their upcoming 5k. Things get off to a timely start - chip pickup at the park and then onto the big yellow school buses for the ride up the canyon. Misty clouds rest on the tops of the limestone cliffs that tower above.

The race starts off pretty much on time. We form a long line loosely based on our projected pace to allow all to cross over the fairly narrow starting electronic mats. The canyon is not closed to traffic, and we were warned on the bus not to run the tangents for safety sake. But runners are more concerned with their time then their safety. Certified courses are measured using the shortest possible distance between the start and finish - and damn if I'm gonna let some pesky cars interfere with my race! I, of course, was not alone on this one.

I go out very conservatively. I decided yesterday that this will be a good opportunity for a marathon pace run. The previous week I suddenly developed some foot pain and feared it was a stress fracture until a small nubbin popped up on top of my 4th metatarsal at the base of my toe. A ganglion cyst, was the diagnosis. What to do, what to do? Well my whole damn vacation revolved around this race, and my daughter was too excited about staying at a motel for me to even contemplate disappointing her. I had to soldier on. So I took a casual, no expectations approach.

By mile 8 I feel great and my foot isn't hurting me in the least, so I decide to pick up the pace. I feel good running a couple miles at 7:30, so I push it a bit more. The last 3+ miles I run around 7:15. As I run into Spearfish City Park I feel like I have so much left in the tank. I cross the finish in 1:44:59. Arrrggggg!

Why Arrrggg? I mean this isn't a terrible time - I'm 4th in my age division (which are 10 year increments - And I'm on the high end of my group;) 14th woman overall - okay, respectable. But I realize immediately that I've missed qualifying for the New York City Marathon by 59 seconds - and qualifying for NY is one of my big big goals. Arrrggggggg, WHY DID I GO OUT SO DANG SLOW!!! Oh, right, my foot. Blah.

So now I'm thinking, maybe, just maybe I should back off on my fall marathon plans and focus on halfs, which, when truth be told, I really do like best of all. Perhaps my body could use a little break from marathon training in the summer heat. Maybe I should save my legs for the Boston Marathon this spring (assuming I get in). I could go back up to Spearfish in late August for the Leading Ladies Half Marathon which travels down the same canyon. Hmmm. Dunno. I guess I'll be walking around muttering to myself for the foreseeable future...

It's Always Something

I tend to write really looooonnnng posts. Well, not today. Today I'm here to gripe, to whine, to complain, to vent - in search of commiseration, empathy, compassion.

A climbing friend of mine, who is also my yoga guru, offered, shall I call it, a theory on injuries: In her view the body and/or mind can only deal with and acknowledge one injury at a time. So, once you begin healing from one ailment, another pops up, seemingly out of the blue.

But, often if you really mine your memory for clues you will realize that there was some little niggling thing pestering you from time to time, but it just sort of flew under the radar. Then, given clearance (the first injury starts letting up) the little-niggler goes in for the kill.

This is my life. As a runner and climber I seem constantly to be nursing some or other major or minor tweak. I can usually soldier on through it all, but that doesn't make it pleasant. It's not that I don't learn from my experiences - I do, as is shown by the fact that I don't seem to have the same injury over and over. I learn about the injury, possible causes, remedies, ways to avoid a re-occurrence and then I try to act appropriately. But then something entirely different rears its ugly head. And, the whole process begins anew.

I went for years and years without a running injury. It's tempting to blame it all on my 4 year-old daughter: "I was never injured before I gave birth to you!" - but that seems a bit harsh - too much for the poor kid (We already tease her about how we used to be able to do anything we wanted until she came along - now as she makes demands, she teases us back with a devilish glint in her eyes). Perhaps it's age. Perhaps it's because I'm running more and harder than I did for many years. One thing seems certain: I need to relax about it all or it's going to make me crazy.

So, I have a half marathon to run in South Dakota on Saturday. Perhaps on Saturday night I'll have a glass of wine and take the motel bible and smash the bejeezus out of this ganglion cyst that has suddenly appeared on my foot. Come on, talk me down off the ledge...or, cheer me on...

Puzzling Pieces

“Man…sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”
~The Dalai Lama (when asked what surprises him the most about humanity)

It's been a strange week for me. On the face of it, nothing particularly extraordinary happened, it's just the way I'm putting together the pieces of the puzzle. I don't really know how the pieces fit. I'm trying to work it out.

So, here are some of the pieces floating around, rearranging themselves just as I get them in place...

Puzzle piece #1): A few days ago I was interviewed by Charlie Butler from Runner's World about a piece he's writing on Grete Waitz. His questions forced me to dig deep into the recesses of my memory. This digging dredged up a lot about who I am and how running, for as long as I can remember, has been a central part of my identity. For some reason women runners, like Grete Waitz (for more on this see: "For the Sake of Our Daughters", June 26th), reached me, touched me, changed me and influenced the direction of my life in ways I could never have anticipated. Different things change each of us. We pay attention to some things while others go unnoticed.

I grew up in New Jersey, a distinctly unremarkable place to grow up. Several times I traveled into New York City with my father on the New Jersey Transit trains to watch the NYC Marathon. When I was in high school, I remember watching Grete Waitz run by in Central Park, and feeling an irresistible urge to jump into the street and run with her, just for a moment. I can still feel the sensation of my nerves jumping under my skin, pushing me forward and pulling me back. Today I would try it. But my shy teenage self remained firmly planted on the side of the road. But I realize now, that something happened to me at that moment. A breeze (of sorts) blew past me and opened a door to a life that I can look back on now with a different understanding. There are those moments that change us, and we may not see it at the time. I see it now and it has made all the difference. Yes, I did wear pigtails like Waitz, and I wanted Adidas running shoes - but more importantly, she showed me that it was okay to be a girl and run, even if that made me different from 99% of my peers. She made me feel okay about me. This moment showed me a path and I noticed it and I took that path...

I found this difficult to convey to Charlie, perhaps because I'm still sorting it all out.

Which is where I find myself today - and this leads, in a somewhat indirect way to puzzle piece #2): I had a birthday this week. So, I ask myself: What does all this aging stuff mean? Well, unfortunately I am not moving up an age category. No, I'm just older in the same age category. I'm still holding my own, but it's tough. Each year I'm racing younger women. Of course the beauty of running and racing is that every five or ten years (depending on the race), you get to be the kid again - the young one in the group. Use it fast, 'cause it ain't gonna last. But, more importantly, I'm really only racing against (or with) myself anyway so age doesn't really matter. Ah, eternal youth. An age old problem solved through running!

But wait, the important question is: Am I creating a valuable life with/through all these years that keep piling up? Does running, remaining on this path, help in this effort? As we live life we make choices that close off other options. But what's often overlooked is that with each choice we also open new doors and discover new paths that we didn't know existed before. When I began running it never would have occurred to me that it would remain so rewarding even as the years march, relentlessly, on. The philosopher Nietzsche presented an interesting thought experiment called Eternal Recurrence. Here Nietzsche asks us to think about whether we would wish to live the moments of our lives over and over and over, for all eternity. Difficult to do, but an interesting idea to keep in mind.

This whole aging thing (#2) and paths taken (#1) leads to #3): My mom is not doing well. Her battle with cancer has been an arduous 3 month long (and nowhere near over) roller coaster ride of fear and hope, improvements and setbacks. We are all feeling weary, and (on the bad days) she is spending much time looking back with regret. It's hard to watch. It's painful to be part of. Has she lived "as if [s]he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived”? One never knows how they will face a life threatening illness until they face it themselves - though going through it with a loved one is close second. I am unwilling to say that I will face it with courage and no regrets. My greatest hope is that my mother will get better. My wish is that this experience will open a new, more fulfilling, path to her, and perhaps help me be mindful of how I live my own life.

But when I put these three puzzle pieces together what picture do I find? I have to say that I try to live in the present, and I make every effort not to sacrifice the things I most treasure. I have spent my life trying to balance the money/time challenge: Give up your time for money - Sacrifice money for more time. It's a compromise. Don't give more than your willing to lose. I am a college Philosophy instructor. I teach at a community college. For many academics, I work in the slums of academe. So be it. I don't really care how others define a successful life. I'm working on my own definition. And how I set off to define that successful life began, in part, on that day in Central Park. I know what I love. I can honestly say that I've passed up jobs because they would interfere too much with running (and other things that I love). Some would say I'm immature, irresponsible, and silly. I can't make a living running! True enough. But I can't make a life without the things a love - running, my family, nature, beauty, time to think...

For the Sake of Our Daughters

Arriving in Denver, returning from a trip back east, I pop into the restroom. As I wash my hands I see out of the corner of my eye a mother deftly applying mascara to her 5 year-old daughter's lashes. The girl stands very still, face up, eyes closed, a slight smile on her face. It seems clear that this is a comfortable and familiar routine for both mother and daughter.

Why am I so disheartened, so concerned, so upset by this seemingly harmless act? One of my primary areas of interest and research in my philosophical work concerns the ideas of authenticity, integrity, autonomy, and self - and what those all mean. I observe people through this lens of concern. I am worried because we seem to live in a culture more concerned with image than substance. Our celebrity obsessed culture seems to think it's okay to sell padded bikini tops for preschool girls. It doesn't matter what you do - what matters is how you look. What does that have to do with running, you ask? Well it doesn't really, and yet it does, because nothing happens without something of substance - We must DO and BE in life. Image IS nothing. It DOES nothing. Running is an obvious example of this. You run or you don't run. You do it or you don't, and it doesn't matter how totally rad you look.

When I watch the video of the first women's Olympic Marathon I am struck by the effort, the doing, the being, the focus that changes our world in so many ways. Today I want to thank those women for being and doing. Their actions changed my life. My actions, likewise, will change my daughters life.
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Each day I pull on my shorts and shirt, slip on my shoes, open the back door and head off down the trail. I give this simple act and pleasure little thought. No one hassles me about my obsession with running. No one worries that I might wear myself out. I take for granted my ability to choose to push myself physically, mentally, and spiritually through running. Today it seems unfathomable that women were not permitted to run the Boston Marathon until 1972 or an Olympic marathon until 1984. I do not feel old enough to have grown-up during a different era, but the fact is, that I did.

With the passing of Greta Waitz we have lost a pioneer in women's running. The women who were so influential in changing the climate of women's distance running were quietly, yet forcefully, persistent and confident in their convictions. Cathrine Switzer, Julia Chase-Brand, Roberta Gibb, Jaqueline Hansen, Greta Waitz, Ingrid Kristiansen, Joan Benoit Samuelson, among so many others, simply wanted to run, and run they did.

Change is often resisted. When we look at the pictures from the 1950s Civil Rights movement of whites blocking the path of black children going to newly desegregated schools, we recoil at the venomous looks of hatred in the eyes of the white adults as they spit, curse, and shake their fists at the children simply trying to go to school. Likewise, the pictures of men attempting to pull Katherine Switzer from the Boston Marathon course, appears hateful, repugnant, and regretable. To my mind, this remains a dark point in the history of marathoning.

There are many parallels between the civil rights movement and the quests for equal rights for women in long distance road racing. Martin Luther king Jr. argued that individuals have a moral duty to fight against injustice, and to break unjust laws/rules. With regard to racial segregation, that required all people of good will (black, white, male, female) to break segregation laws. The point here is to make a statement through your actions - to show the world that this injustice must not stand. This is civil disobedience.

I don't wish to trivialize the larger women's and civil rights issues that have and continue to challenge our country, but the quiet fight women runners engaged in during the 1970s and 1980s proved, through their actions, that marathoning does not damage the health of women and that it was sufficiently (internationally) popular to warrant inclusion in the Olympics. The point is that change happens through ACTION - EVERYTHING happens through ACTION - Not acting is also an action, but the outcome will be very different. These women runners did what they could. Small in number, their only real avenue to change was to do what they weren't being permitted to do - to run. How simple. Yet that simple act was enough to get a lot of men's shorts in a bunch. Why? Their act of civil disobedience gradually changed minds and reality.

As a woman runner benefiting from the courageous actions of those who came before me, I want to thank them for their persistence and commitment, and their quiet yet effective actions. It is easy to forget that things were very very different not so long ago. For the sake of our daughters (and our sons) let's not forget. Let's show them how DOING changes the world. Image changes nothing. It is nothing.

Finding Your Strengths and Working Your Weaknesses

A Facebook friend recently posted a comment/question about the difficulty of determining one's best distance. This got me thinking: I believe this issue, of finding what one is truly good at goes to the heart of much in life, including running.

When I was in 5th grade I remember trying to earn a badge for the President's Physical Fitness Test. It was this experience that made me all too aware of what my strengths and weaknesses were, and still are. At that age I had no concept of inborn propensities or talents, but I soon learned that there were some things that came to me more easily than others.

Take, for example, the 50 yard dash and the 600 yard dash (Yes, this was so long ago that we ran yards not meters). My memory of the 50 yard dash goes something like this: Lots of kids lined up across the track. The gym teacher says "Ready, set, GO!" - and off we go. Or, at least everyone else goes. It seems, if memory serves me, that all the other kids were crossing the finish line while I was still pushing off at the start. I'm really not exaggerating here! I really sucked at the 50 yard dash. Next, I found myself starting, shoulder to shoulder, with the other kids for the 600 yard dash. Here's how this memory plays back: We start, the others take off like a shot while I do my darnedest to keep up, but then something truly unexpected happens - the other kids start slowing down, but I don't. I just keep plugging away at it, feeling good, passing one gasping runner after another until, miracle of miracles, I'm in the lead. And that's how the race goes. Hmmmm. I think this should tell me something. Today I remember that experience as formative for me as a runner. I knew from that day forward that I could not run fast, but I could run for a long time. I understood something about myself that I did not know when I woke up that morning.

So here I am many many years later still well aware of this fact - one of the few truths I'm fairly certain I know about myself. In other areas of life it is not so clear and simple discovering what one is naturally best at or drawn to. However, there's a catch to all of this. While it's all well and good to work and maximize one's strengths, often we improve the most by working our weaknesses. Again, this doesn't just apply to running - it applies to careers, relationships, parenting, friendships, and on and on. I know that I often get in my own way. The problem here is that it's rather unpleasant to work on the things you are not good at. I'd much rather go for a cruising 20 mile run than run 6 half-mile repeats at 3k-5k pace. I dread half-mile repeats. Why? Because I suck at them and because they hurt. But at some point, when we really desire to push ourselves, to see how fast we can run a particular distance, to beat or best ourselves, we must acknowledge that it is probably our weaknesses, not our strengths, that make the crucial difference.

So, what will I be doing this coming week?: One session of half-mile repeats. And, I really will be a better runner, and perhaps a better person, for it.